In Which Sarah Acquires A Residence

Yes, the moment you've all been waiting for: I have an address. Well, technically, I have two addresses-- the empty apartment in Boston where I currently am sitting on the carpet, and the house with no roof in New Orleans where all my belongings are. But if you'd like to reach me, the address the U.S. Postal Service will like best is:

2031 Commonwealth Avenue, #15
Brighton, MA 02135

It is a very exciting day. Today we got the internet. Tomorrow we may get a chair! Oh the possibilities...

Love To All My Larries

To St. Lawrence and its alumni: You guys remain the best people I know, and I think will ever meet. I don't know if many people know this, but St. Lawrence was something I almost missed. I applied early decision to another school, and when it didn't work out I found myself at SLU. I think I am not exaggerating when I say that it was the best thing that ever happened to me. And I almost missed it... But I didn't. I'm really not joking when I say on my website that I've got the St. Lawrence logo tattooed on me. Got it my senior year. I bleed scarlet and brown anyway, but you can't see that...

I just want to say thank you for all the fellow Larries who've offered to help in the last couple weeks-- even the ones I don't know. I've heard from people from the Class of '65 on up. I want to say thank you to the amazing ladies of Epsilon Kappa chapter.

I still miss it so much, you know. The clock tower, walking up Park Street at 3 AM under the orange glow of the streetlights, the silence when it snows. You can tell from my website, I suppose. And St. Lawrence seeps through in most of the short stories I have posted there. I would, like, sleep curled up in a drawer in the Tick Tock kitchen if only St. Lawrence would let me come back and go there for another four years... unfortunately, I think everyone else would start looking a bit young.

I raise a Blue to my Larries. You guys are my original crew.

What Is Lost

- My clothes.
- All the pictures that were on my walls, which I took down and put in the walk-in closet because that was the only place the roof was safe last time.
- My car, which had all the windows broken, and is now in the street instead of in the driveway and will probably be stolen.

Mike is trying to get a friend in to save things, but I don't know if it will be possible. I can't afford it, but I will fly down if I have to.

I don't know what to do.

Cried a lot, then had a drink, or three. Then I woke up at 5:00 AM after a dream in which Bry and I were on top of a building and there was a tidal wave coming and we were about to wash away. Stared at the ceiling some. Didn't sleep.

Somebody tell me what to do. I cannot let it go, if there's a chance I can save it.

For Just Two Months Out of My Life

...COULD THERE PLEASE NOT BE A HOLE IN THE ROOF OF THE HOUSE I KEEP TRYING TO LIVE IN?

What Is Saved

Sometimes it's nice to stop and do an inventory of your life. Therefore, I, Sarah, displaced resident of Uptown New Orleans, left my house in a hurry on the afternoon of August 28, 2005 with:

- 1 IBM laptop computer
- 6 diaries, primarily from my St. Lawrence years
- 3 notebooks of my writing
- 3 books (out of a few hundred... just three)
- 4 bras
- 9 pairs of underwear
- 1 bikini (??? in case I had to swim through floodwaters in brand new white J Crew suit??)
- 1 bag assorted toiletries
- 1 travel jewelry box with some necklaces and earrings
- 1 small makeup bag
- 1 purse and wallet
- 7 tank tops
- 4 skirts
- 4 pairs of shorts
- 6 t-shirts
- 1 pair of jeans
- 2 pairs of capri pants
- 3 belts
- 1 cell phone
- 2 Nalgene bottles
- 1 large Maglite
- 1 small CD case with CDs
- 1 pair flip flops
- 1 pair sneakers
- 1 Gregory backpacking pack, stuffed with most of the above

I hope my photo albums are safe. I hope my books are safe. I hope my car is safe.

In that order.

Save the Furries

I saw this picture this morning on the Times Picayune's site, and it made me want to help. So even though I am myself a hurricane victim, I donated money. I know that lots of people died as a result of the disaster, and I know hundreds of thousands are homeless and need medical attention. But... they have the federal government, and family, and many strangers willing to help. I saw the National Guardsman carrying this poor wet cat, and I thought, if I had hours to pack my things for evacuation and I didn't even bother to bring socks because I thought I'd be back in two days, how many people thought the same thing and left their pets with plenty of food and water-- but only enough for a week? The human victims will get help. That soaking wet white cat is all alone and its people are not coming back. They can't come back. It's sitting in the water wondering why they abandoned it, because pets don't understand.

There are all these stories about people being forced to leave their pets behind when they got into boats or helicopters. I wasn't there, having evacuated by car, so maybe you could argue that I don't know what I would do in that situation, but I can tell you that you would have to physically pry my cat from my arms before I would ever, ever leave it. I would stuff it in a bag. I would even stay behind.

So I gave money to the Humane Society. Let's just say it was a donation in memory of Jane.

Awakening From the Dream That Was New Orleans

I thought this was a really good article, expressing a lot of my own sentiments about living Uptown and also articulating the hard truths about New Orleans that we tend to ignore. I haven't lived there as long but I know what he means. But then, I also used to take the streetcar to work because I didn't have a car, and worked at least one service industry job where they called me "little white girl" (because I was the only one), so I think I have acquired somewhat of a diversified perspective of the city. Frankly, I don't have quite enough money to be able to hide in my Garden District mansion and only see that part of the city... but damn, I still wish I had a Garden District mansion.

Nifty Flood Map

According to this neat little map my house and car on Danneel Street are dry. You can roll over it to look at different areas.

Finally Some Good News!

I checked my bank account this morning and there it was, in all its gloriousness, a day late but there... a paycheck!

Another Day, Another City

Arrived in Boston last night, our fourth city in as many days. But this one we will stay in, which makes it different. It feels good to finally reach your destination.

Stopped at the Lee Outlets on our way over, which brings up the question of: how are you a refugee if you just dropped $100 at J Crew? None of it was stuff I would have bought, if it weren't for the fact that all my sweaters are hung up neatly in a closet in New Orleans that you can't get to by any roads. And now I have more than one pair of pants. (I own TWO pairs of pants. Whoo.) But it seemed as if my life was infinitely more under control now that I had a striped belt and a pink sweater (and a green sweater, and a white shirt, and the other 8 items I purchased at the Gap, where there was an excellent sale...) There. And I've justified my shopping. By the way, as the news media informs us, if you were previously unaware (like me), "refugee" is not P.C. The proper term is "displaced person."

I thought maybe they'd find some way to direct deposit my paycheck today, since it is payday. No such luck. Dollars dwindle. And the promised update of the work website has not occurred. I just hate that I worked so hard at maintaining some kind of savings, even at my low paying job, and now I am going to have to use them all just to buy stuff I already have. Some good news though-- apparently I can go to any Walgreens to get my prescriptions because they have me in their computer, and there is one 2.7 miles away according to their website. I am going to assume I still have health insurance. All the more reason to get prescriptions filled ASAP.

Irritated. Worried.

But it is sunny outside. This is a new chapter in the story of my life, and it starts... with a shower.

"Pretty soon they're singing one by one the same old line
They say, I'm all right, I just can't get home tonight"
- Counting Crows

Limbo

Brief stop at my parents' house (where my boyfriend is convinced that my pets are trying to eat him-- which they are not, my cat just has a penchant for sitting on people's faces) before heading to Boston today.

I'm in quite the interesting and frustrating social and financial limbo. Do I still have a job? How can I have a job if the windows are blown out of the office and there's water in the street? (It's on Poydras Street across from the Superdome, if you've seen the pictures.) Come to think of it, since what I do at my job is open new files and call clients, what on earth would I DO at my job now that no one is there to open a case and even if they were they don't have phones? Not to mention that I don't know how many of our clients are homeless or dead. Many of them were low income and lived in the East. What about my paycheck I'm due tomorrow? Will I be laid off? Do I still have health insurance? And where do I go in Boston without paying exorbitant copays since I have Blue Cross Blue Shield of Louisiana? Can I collect unemployment? I need prescriptions and new contacts, and both those doctors are in New Orleans. How am I going to be able to get these things, which I need in the next 2 weeks? Do I get a job in Boston? Do I pay car insurance on a car I am unable to drive because it is sitting in my driveway in New Orleans? Am I going to have to pay rent on an apartment no one can live in, because my stuff is there? And... do I or do I not pay my Entergy bill? On one hand, the bill is for services already rendered, so I should pay it. On the flip side, what can they do, threaten to cut my power off??

But I am alive. And there's a strong possibility I still own something in New Orleans. Which places me better off than thousands of citizens of our fair city. Poor city. I am obsessed with the news. Every five minutes I excuse myself, "Sorry, I have to go look at the destruction again."

It's a mess, that's what it is. Poor city. It was actually less than 60 degrees here last night. I just want to go back to my city.

I Can See My House From Here!

Bry got a picture of my neighborhood on a satellite image yesterday, and outlined my block in red.



The bad news: There is water in the street, and a suspicious looking spot on the roof that may be-- what? a hole? a chunk of debris? Impossible to tell. You can't see my car, but that side of the house is shadowed.

The good news: The water is probably not deep, since it stops just a couple blocks down. The mysterious blotch on the roof is not over my room (?? questionable--this isn't really good news, it still sucks if there is a hole in the roof and I know this having had my ceiling cave in this July in Cindy). The house is still there.

Anything else remains unknown. But it looks like maybe we'll only have water/wind damage from broken-out windows (which can't be seen). So I probably DO still own clothes, etc.... I just can't get to them.

Today's rave: Anne Rice's essay on New Orleans in the New York Times.

Oh Yeah! Is the Northeast Ready?

Because I'm coming back!! Leaving for Boston early tomorrow AM, where Mike will be going to B.U. this semester for his 3rd year of law school, and I will be doing... well, whatever it is that people who own no socks or jackets do in Boston. It looks as if I may be able to take my classes online, but no details from UNO yet on how that will work. And my job... well, hell! I hated my job anyway! Liberation!

I hate leaving my car and belongings so far away with no way of knowing whether they are all right, but I guess it's an easy choice to make when you're left without a choice. And many other people are in the same situation, or worse.

I will update with address information when I acquire a residence.

Waiting...

Unlike most disasters, as the days go on, this one seems to be getting worse. Couldn't sleep last night because I saw on the news a woman who was sitting on top of the I-10 overpass next to her husband's body, which was wrapped in a blanket in the 90 degree heat and which no one would take away.

Now I have to worry not only about if I lost everything to wind/water damage, but if looters are at this moment stealing my TV and my car and breaking my personal items. It's a very small TV and I don't really care, but the thing that gets to me is I keep picturing people tossing about my priceless and irreplaceable pictures and memories just to see if there is jewelry underneath, and then throwing them in the water and stepping on them. I think these hoodlums ought to be shot on sight. Didn't they declare martial law? Honestly, I'm a very liberal person. Looting a store for food when you're starving is one thing. But TVs? Electronics? THERE IS NO POWER. YOU ARE HOMELESS. These people have got to have a less-than-human stupidity level. What do they expect to do with a stolen flat screen TV in these circumstances? A gang hijacked a bus that was evacuating nursing home residents, stole all their supplies, and left them to die. That enrages me so much that my political values seem to have just disappeared (they are ignorant and uneducated, they are in poverty, etc.). Nope. These people simply need to be shot. They have absolutely no worth as human beings. I firmly believe this. There are plenty of low-income 9th Ward evacuees who are clean, decent, moral people, who are waiting at the Superdome and whose evacuation had to be halted this morning because of the gunfire, who are not behaving like this.

Still have no idea where I am going, what I am doing, whether I have anything left. It's a kind of limbo that is very hard to live with.

Contact Information

I forgot to mention this before, but you may not be able to get through on my phone. I can call out, but it's pretty much impossible right now to call into the 504 area code. Also, my two school emails are down (as are both schools' entire websites), and I can't check them. So if you want to contact me, leave a message here or email me at my hotmail address.

Update From A Refugee

This is just to let everyone know that I got out. Mike and I left at about 3:30 Sunday in his car. (I left mine parked in our driveway, which is a couple feet above sea level, so we'll see.) We were sitting in traffic on I-10 and the bridge (both of which are now underwater/gone) until about 9 PM. By that time it had started raining and the water along the road was starting to rise a little, which was making us nervous. We made it to Hattiesburg, MS by 11:00, and stopped above Tuscaloosa, AL to sleep on the grass at a rest area from 3:00 to 6:00. By 10:00 AM Monday, we made it to Aunt Carol & Uncle Doug's house in Nashville.

Last night we heard that New Orleans had been spared a direct hit, but from the news that's coming in today, at least one levee was breached and massive sections of the city are under 20 feet of water. My neighborhood is OK from what I've heard, except for a lot of trees down and structural damage. The roof on my house was new, having been destroyed in Tropical Storm Cindy, so I want to say it may have made it... but these winds were about 50 mph higher, and I am not confident about it. I am bracing myself to come home and have nothing. But right now we don't really know when that will be-- they aren't allowing people back into the city, and the road we took to get here is gone. I tried to call into work this morning, but I just got a busy signal. From the news I've seen this morning (the Times Picayune isn't producing a paper edition at all, just in .pdf form online-- as of a couple minutes ago, the water was rising at their building and they announced they are evacuating, so this may in fact be the last paper), water is still coming into the city and areas that were dry last night are flooded today. Spared? I don't know... Certainly it seems rude and presumptuous to say it was spared, when several low income neighborhoods are completely underwater and gone. A lot of these people are on the roof because they don't own vehicles and can't get out.

It seems like everyone was optimistic yesterday because the worst case scenario didn't happen. OK, the worst case scenario was a disaster and loss of life on the scale of December's tsunami. So while I'm glad that didn't happen... New Orleans is not fine. From the news I've seen this morning, the water is still rising, there may not be power for months, and martial law was just declared.

So we will sit here and wait. As the water trickles in.

Silence Falls On New Orleans

This morning we woke up to sun shining through the slats of the blinds. The palms and magnolias on my street are swaying with the strengthening breeze. The heat bakes the slate roof tiles on the house next door. I look out over roofs that have been there for a hundred years. The cars are parked on the neutral ground. The streets are ominously empty.

We meant to ride it out, but...

Mandatory evacuation of Orleans Parish. It's a Category 5 storm with winds of 175 miles per hour. The officials are saying there's no longer a question that the levees will be overcome by the water. It's so strange, really. It just seems like a pretty Sunday. Last year they said Ivan was going to be The One, and it wasn't. They said the city would full up like a giant fish bowl. They said this was the price of living in the past.


I don't know. I know I don't want to leave, because, no matter how I want to deny it, there is a very real possibility that it won't be here when I get back. I suppose at a moment like this what you feel is admiration and wonder: at the persistence of the people who settled here, who braved malaria and ungodly heat, who watched the river swallow their homes and then improbably built again in a swamp, at the women of two hundred years ago who did it all in floor length skirts. At least that's what I think about. Goodbye to my green streetcars. Goodbye to the sweet still air that smells like flowers. Goodbye to my newly redone little garret upstairs that I was going to write in. Goodbye to the grand old ladies of St. Charles Avenue, with their iron lace and graceful tall shuttered windows and delicate porches, to whom my heart belongs. If this is your end, I am glad I won't see it. Stubborn old city. It's funny, somehow I see it making it... It's very quite outside now. I've taken the pictures down from the walls. We're evacuating north to Nashville.


Goodbye, city. Good luck.

Good Morning From Ground Zero!

Current Occupation: Holding down the fort.
Location: The fort.

It's now a Category 5. We may not be here much longer... in other news, I am going back to bed.

The 504 Settles In...

Have just received in my email a party invitation which includes the following line:

"If you're still in town, it could be your last party, so come ready. Beginning Sunday night...until the roof comes off. RSVP!"

Also, in case you were worried, never fear: my neighborhood is in fact 2-5 feet above sea level. We on the high ground here, bebe!

Katrina Update

In today's tropical update, it is currently 91 degrees with blue skies in metro New Orleans. And I am going to lie out with a beverage. In the meantime, here is some light reading.

Will this be The Big One That Submerges the City? Or will it be The Day The Worst Didn't Happen, Redux? Do we really care?

Ha, wouldn't it be ironic if, thanks to Ivan-- the Storm That Cried Wolf, no one leaves this time and the levee breaks and we all end up 20 feet under Lake Pontchartrain?

What does This Blog think? This Blog was born in Tropical Storm Cindy. This Blog says bring it!!

"I just got this bucket of bolts back together!"

"... I'm not going to let something tear it apart!"
- Han Solo

Which means, loosely translated into context, that my roof is back on, my room is gorgeously redone, and if Hurricane Katrina hits on Monday (doubtful, but true to character people are freaking out already) I ain't moving from New Orleans. Nope. Here I stay.

First week of dual work/grad school... it seemed like the longest week of my life. Hopefully this will get better once I get used to the schedule. I am mostly moved into my new and improved (with beautiful hardwood floors! no more nasty rug!) room. I changed around the furniture and it seems like I have twice the space.

Part of the reason I haven't posted in so long is I didn't like the idea of putting another post on top of Jane. Poor Janie. I have to admit to crying twice on the plane to Albany. I put a flower on her grave, but she wasn't there to pet. Just rocks. I didn't really know what to say... so I just said, "I'm sorry, Janie. I was coming home. I would have come home."

Re-reading:
Robin Hobb, Ship of Magic. First book in the Liveship Trilogy. I cannot stress enough the excellence of this series. (Gee, nautical fantasy. I wonder why that would appeal to Sarah... HA! It ought to be its own genre!)

Jane: A Tribute For A Good Cat

So today on the phone my dad told me that our cat Jane died yesterday. This is not a surprise. Jane would have been 19 in October. But I started sobbing anyway. I've been saying a special goodbye to Jane each time I've left home ever since freshman year of college, because I knew she was old and she might not be there when I came back on my next break. I last saw her the day after Christmas. I was scheduled to fly home this Thursday for a 5 day weekend. She died on Monday.

Here are two pictures of Jane that I think really give you some perspective on how long she lived. On the left is my brother Bryan with Jane in 1987. Below right is Bryan with Jane in 2004.















Jane's full name was Jane T. Cat. (The T stands for "The".) But we just called her Jane T. We adopted Jane and her littermate Lucy in January 1987. I was 5, and my brother was 4. Jane managed to outlive her sister by ten whole years, which makes her a pretty impressive cat. Isn't it strange how the way we feel about our pets can't truly be understood by anyone outside the family? And isn't it strange to wonder how they feel about us? I mean, what did Jane think? Did she remember being with us the whole way? Or was it like my mom always jokingly maintained (owing to a car accident in her youth that resulted in her disappearing for 2 days, having to have her jaw wired together, and developing a drooling problem for several years afterward), that Jane didn't really have any particular thoughts at all, besides being in the sun and an adamant love of sleeping on the dinner table ? I believe she recognized us when we came home to visit, if only because strangers usually made her run upstairs and hide under the bed. I believe she was happy with simple things.

Here are some things about Jane you might not have known. Jane never killed a mouse in her life. She was, however, an opportunistic eater of already-dead mice, since Lucy and our other cat Groucho were talented hunters. Jane liked to play with Construx. They were these plastic building toys from the 80's, sort of like Legos. The structures were held together by these square light blue connector pieces. Jane was obsessed with them. Probably up until the last week of her life, if you rolled one across the floor she would perk up and run insanely after it, bouncing her head off the wall. We always kept a couple around for her. Jane liked to sleep in people's crotches, more specifically directly between the knees. This meant if she fell asleep on your bed, you would not be able to move your legs the entire night, and when you got stiff you would eventually have to kick her. Jane did not like to have her stomach touched. It was the only time she would bite you. Jane liked to sleep on top of the computer monitor. Jane had a beige streak running down the right side of her nose; her sister Lucy had a mirror image streak on the left side. Jane had kind of a stubby tail. It was 8 inches. I know this because at some point we measured our cats' tails on a ruler. Jane's favorite spot was on her blanket on the radiator. The fur between the pads of her toes was very soft. She was pretty, with owlish yellow eyes.

When I go home the day after tomorrow, for almost the first time since I can remember, there will be no gray cat to meet me. And I am sad. Because maybe Jane wasn't a good conversationalist and didn't have any deep thoughts. But I loved her. And I think she loved us too.

Jane

1986-2005

In Which Sarah Gives In To Cheesiness and Posts Cute Pictures of Self and Boy Being Cute At the Lakefront On Saturday

He also took this neat one of me walking along the edge of the steps and then made it sepia toned. You can click on it to see it big. (I'm not a narcissist! I just think it's a cool shot. Also, it proves that, contrary to what the above photo may indicate, I do have a top on...)

Till Next Time, Asshole

I hate New Orleans drivers so much I actually almost followed some guy in a black Jeep home today. Luckily, the idea of dinner appealed to me slightly more than the satisfying mental picture of painting his car with pink hearts (or something equally humiliating) overnight, and so I was saved from a psychotic act of road rage. I did, however, drive the entire length of St. Charles between Louisiana and Napoleon with my middle finger out the window.

I should just let these people hit me... he was blatantly at fault. But a Jeep would hurt my baby! A Jeep is bigger than us! Cringe. So inevitably I throw on the brakes hard, then seethe the whole way home about how lame I am.

DEDICATED TO BLACK JEEP CHEROKEE WITH LOUISIANA PLATE MIG###: YOU SUCK.

My Ceiling Is Back!

It is a greatly triumphant feeling to come home one day and suddenly have a ceiling in one's bedroom where once there was a gaping hole. It gives one hope for humanity, really. It is just a special, special experience that I hope you will all have one day.