This was written about three months ago, I just couldn’t bring myself to post it. The names have been changed to protect the guilty.

Hey Boo,

It’s been a rough couple of weeks. I’ve been running into people I knew before the storm left and right and they all have stories. Basically to a man they are back to see if they want to try and come back and rebuild and the future isn’t looking good. Thought I’d give ya an update on some of the people we knew before you were wounded so badly.

Remember James? The guy I met in the old hood cause he was always walking home when I’d be reading the paper on the porch in the morning? Or should I say he was stumbling home and always asking for spare change? One of New Orleans lost youth, a guy the system was built to basically defeat. The one who taught me what the phrase “murked someone” meant. He was always cool to me, you know how I am, scared of nothing and no one. I saw his sister last Wednesday at the Discount Zone on Claiborne. As we all do, I asked how she and James made out. I could see the tears coming and the feeling in my gut told me it wasn’t good. They didn’t get out, they were on the roof, one of James nephews slipped, fell into the water, James went after him and neither ever came back. She cried when she told me, and even though we only knew each other’s first name, I cried right along with her.

Remember Mike? He was from the hood too, met him while I was sweeping the sidewalk one day (only in New Orleans do we sweep the sidewalk…gotta keep our little bit of you clean ya know). Mike was born and raised here…never been outside the metro area. I remember him telling me that Slidell was out of town to him. You know a bunch of folks before the storm were like that here. Anyway, he didn’t have a GED or a HS Diploma. I got him in some tutoring classes and he took the GED and passed it. The last I heard he was looking for a career. Well saw him gutting his mama’s house as I drove through the old hood the other day. I about cried when I saw him. I know that’s dumb but it’s like that now. I search for a connection to the past, something that can continue to tie me to you. I stopped and we hugged and talked and caught up. He’s working offshore now, got a great gig and is a guy who just needed some help to get his life right. I asked about his mama (man the pralines that women would make and bring to me on a Saturday- “Mr. Dan I know you gots some sweet tooth’s in your mouth”) and that’s when we both broke down. The storm didn’t get her, but the pain and sorrow afterward did. She passed in October, broken hearted and as he said “She died in a city she couldn’t even spell”. He’s gutting the home and says he will live there because “That’s all I can do for her now”.

I guess the one that hurt the most was yesterday. I know you remember Lakisha. She and those two adorable babies from across the street. A single mother in New Orleans, I know you could easily get them confused because there were so many but she had gotten her self together too, had gotten her life right for her babies. The memory that stands out to me with her is that Sunday morning when I was packing the car up for a day trip to the beach. She had just gotten back from church and wanted to know where I was going. The beach, I said. She looked and said that I couldn’t go to Ponchatrain Beach, it’s been closed for years. I felt bad laughing but I did. No, the Mississippi beaches I said. She of course had never been out of the area either. I looked at her and those kids and well, you know I had to take them. I can still see the joy and the look of “are we really here?” on their faces as we cooked some wieners on a grill and talked and laughed like we had no cares in the world. And those kids, they couldn’t swim but did they love being in that water up to their knees. I saw her sister at Sav-A-Fresh out by the lake. She’s a cashier there now. We hugged when we saw each other and of course the tears started right after. The boys are okay; the Coast Guard pulled them off the roof. Lakisha didn’t. She had a heart attack as the water rose and they couldn’t get her to the roof in time. Her sister is raising the boys. Their struggling but in her words “we’re alive, that’s better than nothing”. I just cannot get the images of that day at the beach out of my head though.

I think of them often. The people I knew before. Most I still don’t know what happened or where they were sent. Knowing what happened to some is painful. But not knowing packs a punch that may take years to overcome.

Be strong New Orleans, this cycle will not ruin my love for you.

Love,
DKF

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