{"id":347,"date":"2010-08-30T09:33:48","date_gmt":"2010-08-30T09:33:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.beliefnet.com\/thinplaces\/2010\/08\/reflections-on-hurricane-katrina.html"},"modified":"2010-08-30T09:33:48","modified_gmt":"2010-08-30T09:33:48","slug":"reflections-on-hurricane-katrina","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/2010\/08\/reflections-on-hurricane-katrina.html","title":{"rendered":"Reflections on Hurricane Katrina"},"content":{"rendered":"


\n\"IMG_4424.JPG\"<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n

My husband’s
\nfamily is from New Orleans. He spent much of his childhood there, and most of
\nhis aunts, uncles, and cousins still call New Orleans home. I fell in love with
\nthe city after his mom became ill with cancer. We lived with her for a few
\nmonths, and I stood in awe of this place that embodied carelessness and risk
\nalongside beauty and delight. <\/p>\n

It was two years
\nafter Peter;s mom died that Hurricane Katrina hit. I wrote the following
\nreflections three months later, in December of 2005, just after we visited New
\nOrleans:<\/p>\n

In the past, a
\ntrip to “NOLA” as the natives denote it, has been filled with sights and sounds
\nand smells of delight bordering on decadence. The food is rich, the scenery
\nexotic, the lifestyle relaxed and indulgent. My husband’s family lives in an
\nold part of the city, “Uptown.”. St. Charles Avenue runs through Uptown, and
\nthere are moments when it feels like a return to a bygone era with the
\nforest-green streetcars gliding through the center of the road and live oaks
\nspreading their branches low to the ground and quiet, stately white houses
\nrising up behind wrought iron fences. <\/p>\n

Uptown was part of
\nthe city built on high enough ground and far enough away from the breaches in
\nthe levee that it only partially flooded. Peter’s relatives were lucky, as it
\nwere–they had second homes or friends who could take them in or enough money to
\nrent an apartment and put their kids in private school in another city. Lucky
\ntoo, in that the extent of the physical damage to their property included one
\nnew roof, some water damage to the walls, the need for a new refrigerator. But
\nthe city wasn’t functioning–no power, no water, no stores open, no mail or
\nphones or streetcars, no country club, no clear plan for the future. In
\nNovember, though, the family started to come back. New Orleans was still home,
\nand even Peter’s 85-year-old grandparents wanted to trade the comforts of their
\nhouse on the coast of California for their home Uptown, even if there was a
\nbroken window and the smell of mold and limited provisions at the grocery
\nstore. They all came home for Thanksgiving, and we decided to join them.<\/p>\n

The flight down
\nwas full, and I wanted to know the stories of each individual. I didn’t ask
\nanyone, though I did learn that the teenager sitting behind me had been placed
\nin a northern boarding school until her school reopened. I know the little girl
\nin front of me still didn’t understand what happened as she kept asking, in a
\nloud voice, “What happened with Hurricane Katrina?” The whole city, as it
\nturned out, felt subdued, depressed. I saw it first in traffic patterns.
\nStreetlights, for the most part, weren’t working, so cars had to inch their ways
\nthrough intersections. It would have been surprising for anyone to honk their
\nhorn. It would have been equally surprising for anyone to wave in greeting. As
\nthe plane descended, on a clear day that highlighted the city’s topography–the
\ncurve of the river, the expanse of the lake, the canals that funnel water from
\none to the other–we peered out the window to look for signs of the destruction
\nwe knew to expect. From that height, all we could see that looked unusual were
\nthe bright blue tarps that dotted the roofs of houses. Otherwise, it looked the
\nsame as ever.<\/p>\n

Even the car ride
\nfrom the airport, when we again almost eagerly attempted to immerse ourselves
\nin devastation, was mild. Sure, we saw some signs down and there was a tank
\nwith national guard troops guarding one strip mall, and the local Popeye’s was
\nclosed. Some houses had the spray paint that indicated a search had been
\nperformed within; two brick mansions had burnt to the ground. We noted stumps
\nwhere trees had fallen, and Audubon Park looked, as my husband said, like it
\nhad been raked from above. Everything seemed a little gray and empty and slow
\n(and it was a slowness that felt like sickness, not a slowness that comes from
\nluxurious amounts of time), but it all looked familiar and we could imagine it pulsing
\nwith life again. <\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
\n

The next afternoon, we climbed into the back of Peter’s aunt and uncle’s SUV with both a video and still camera, and we began a tour of the city. Uptown, we quickly learned, was deceptive. Only a few blocks away, at the point where the water finally had stopped pouring into the city, the devastation began. And continued, for mile upon mile upon mile, block upon block, house after house, neighborhood by neighborhood. The water respected no demarcations between rich and poor. We saw as many ruined multi-million dollar homes as we did dilapidated small dwellings. Everywhere else in the city–Lake View and Lake Vista (the areas of “white flight”), the Upper Ninth Ward (home to many African-Americans), New Orleans East, Mid-City, City Park–bore the undeniable traces of merciless disaster. Piles of debris lined the sidewalks–mattresses and refrigerators were usually the only distinctive items, the rest was just a jumble of clothing and trash and household objects far beyond salvation. Mounds of dirt and tree limbs and trunks filled empty lots. 144 million cubic yards of debris, we were told, needs to be removed from the city. In most places we could see the ominous muddy line that traced across the front of buildings and proved that stagnant water had pooled up in living rooms and kitchens for weeks on end. We saw few people. More cars sat than drove, covered in a film of gray dust, many with broken windows, never to run again. Workers with gas masks pulled detritus out of houses.<\/p>\n

We got out of the car at the site of the Southern Yacht Club. Boats were piled on top of each other by the dozen, looking like a little boy had a temper tantrum, overturned a basket of toys and refused to clean it up. Hulls sliced into decks and bows crunched into pavement and snapped masts dangled. The Yacht Club itself burned downed after the storm. The dozens of trophies won by Peter’s great-grandfather, a recreational sailor, sank to the bottom of the lake.<\/p>\n

And the tour continued as more of the same. Mind-numbing scenes of ruin. Heart-gripping, emotion-stopping repetition of destruction. 285,000 homes affected, mostly destroyed. Nothing operative: no power or water. No people. No fast-food joints or Wal-Marts. We had to take a pit stop in a parking deck where the asphalt crunched underfoot as if it had been baked in a kiln. We drove up on the 17th<\/sup> Street levee to see the place where the water came through–a 50 yard gap in the retaining wall that now has rusty metal stakes protruding behind it. The houses and trees in its immediate path had been engulfed–oaks snapped in two and houses without a water line because the water had been overhead. The workmen politely asked us to leave.<\/p>\n

It raised all the appropriate questions–ecological, sociological, anthropological, political, economic. The city was a mess to begin with: bad education, high poverty, high crime, high murder. Now the schools are closed, the population has fled, there has been only one murder since the hurricane, and it was a crime of passion. The politicians continue to bicker. The corruption of levee boards and school boards gets in the way of making any progress. The local newspaper reported that the levees had been inspected only months before the hurricane exposed their flaws and weaknesses. The inspectors spent five hours surveying the 100 miles of levees. They pronounced them in fine shape, ready to withstand a storm. Had they been up to code, even to the code required for a Category Three storm, it is unlikely that they would have been breached.<\/p>\n

            <\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

            <\/span>We still go back to New Orleans once a year. We still love the pulse of it, the Caribbean feel, the storefronts the color of mango and cherry tomato, the food, the music. We still love the people–the smiles and laughter, the decadent hospitality, the sense that people belong to this place and no other. We’re saddened by the reports of violence after the storm, violence that exposed deep-seated racial prejudice. We’re heartened by reports of education reform. And we’re grateful for the countless women and men who have given time, energy, prayers, and ideas to making the city flourish again.<\/p>\n

            <\/span>Five years later, may New Orleans become a place of healing, where the beauty and delight remains, and the decay and destruction has been washed away.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My husband’s family is from New Orleans. He spent much of his childhood there, and most of his aunts, uncles, and cousins still call New Orleans home. I fell in love with the city after his mom became ill with cancer. We lived with her for a few months, and I stood in awe of…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":88,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-347","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-family"],"yoast_head":"\nReflections on Hurricane Katrina - Thin Places<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/2010\/08\/reflections-on-hurricane-katrina.html\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Reflections on Hurricane Katrina - Thin Places\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"My husband’s family is from New Orleans. He spent much of his childhood there, and most of his aunts, uncles, and cousins still call New Orleans home. I fell in love with the city after his mom became ill with cancer. We lived with her for a few months, and I stood in awe of…\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/2010\/08\/reflections-on-hurricane-katrina.html\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Thin Places\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2010-08-30T09:33:48+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"http:\/\/blog.beliefnet.com\/thinplaces\/files\/import\/assets_c\/2010\/08\/IMG_4424-thumb-200x150-17598.jpg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"amyjuliabecker\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"Reflections on Hurricane Katrina - Thin Places","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/2010\/08\/reflections-on-hurricane-katrina.html","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"Reflections on Hurricane Katrina - Thin Places","og_description":"My husband’s family is from New Orleans. He spent much of his childhood there, and most of his aunts, uncles, and cousins still call New Orleans home. I fell in love with the city after his mom became ill with cancer. We lived with her for a few months, and I stood in awe of…","og_url":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/2010\/08\/reflections-on-hurricane-katrina.html","og_site_name":"Thin Places","article_published_time":"2010-08-30T09:33:48+00:00","og_image":[{"url":"http:\/\/blog.beliefnet.com\/thinplaces\/files\/import\/assets_c\/2010\/08\/IMG_4424-thumb-200x150-17598.jpg"}],"author":"amyjuliabecker","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/2010\/08\/reflections-on-hurricane-katrina.html","url":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/2010\/08\/reflections-on-hurricane-katrina.html","name":"Reflections on Hurricane Katrina - Thin Places","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/2010\/08\/reflections-on-hurricane-katrina.html#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/2010\/08\/reflections-on-hurricane-katrina.html#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"http:\/\/blog.beliefnet.com\/thinplaces\/files\/import\/assets_c\/2010\/08\/IMG_4424-thumb-200x150-17598.jpg","datePublished":"2010-08-30T09:33:48+00:00","dateModified":"2010-08-30T09:33:48+00:00","author":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/#\/schema\/person\/4dde10eee38770361dc9b46a9413776b"},"breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/2010\/08\/reflections-on-hurricane-katrina.html#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/2010\/08\/reflections-on-hurricane-katrina.html"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/2010\/08\/reflections-on-hurricane-katrina.html#primaryimage","url":"http:\/\/blog.beliefnet.com\/thinplaces\/files\/import\/assets_c\/2010\/08\/IMG_4424-thumb-200x150-17598.jpg","contentUrl":"http:\/\/blog.beliefnet.com\/thinplaces\/files\/import\/assets_c\/2010\/08\/IMG_4424-thumb-200x150-17598.jpg"},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/2010\/08\/reflections-on-hurricane-katrina.html#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"Reflections on Hurricane Katrina"}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/#website","url":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/","name":"Thin Places","description":"Amy Julia Becker on Faith, Family, and Disability","potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/#\/schema\/person\/4dde10eee38770361dc9b46a9413776b","name":"amyjuliabecker","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/wp-content\/wphb-cache\/gravatar\/222\/2222023dcae76abe6e896a3cf80e9836x96.jpg","contentUrl":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/wp-content\/wphb-cache\/gravatar\/222\/2222023dcae76abe6e896a3cf80e9836x96.jpg","caption":"amyjuliabecker"},"description":"Amy Julia Becker writes about theology, disability, family, and culture. Two major life experiences have shaped her writing and her faith\u00e2\u20ac\u201dcaring for her mother-in-law as she battled cancer and welcoming her daughter Penny into the world after she was diagnosed at birth with Down syndrome. Both experiences expanded and enriched her understanding of what it means to be human and to receive each and every person as a gift.\u00c2\u00a0 A graduate of Princeton University and Princeton Theological Seminary, she is the author of Penelope Ayers: A Memoir, and the forthcoming A Good and Perfect Gift (Bethany House). Her essays have appeared in First Things, The Philadelphia Inquirer, The Christian Century, ChristianityToday.com, and Bloom, among other online venues.","sameAs":["http:\/\/amyjuliabecker.com"],"url":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/author\/amyjuliabecker"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/347","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/88"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=347"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/347\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=347"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=347"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thinplaces\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=347"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}