New Orleans: After the Storm

I'd like to move on...to completely forget Katrina ever happened. Now that we've "celebrated" the second anniversary of Katrina, I feel compelled to write about what life was like immediately after Katrina and some of what is going on today.

In this blog, I'll be posting as often as I can. Thinking about what happened continues to puzzle and amaze me. But dwelling on it too much becomes unbearable. I paint every day; without painting, I would not be able to stay here. So to continue to write about Katrina and it's aftermath, I'll post paintings on my blog at joandagradi.blogspot.com and post here as I can without becoming too bummed.

After writing 2 entries on my painting blog about Katrina, it became evident that another outlet was needed. I don't plan on giving up painting; I have a lot to write about. The following was my first entry.

"I wish that by writing, I could help every other place to avoid a disaster.
It's quite unnerving to see Anderson Cooper on CNN, in your neighborhood night after night, while you're hundreds of miles away, unable to return home. We evacuated, just like we do for every hurricane. This was probably the 6th or 7th evacuation in the past 15 years. I was in Baltimore, caring for my dad, when it became apparent on the Friday before that the storm was headed our way. "Just grab the small box of important papers near the door, turn off the gas, bring the cats and meet me in Memphis", I pleaded with my husband, who had just returned home after playing at a Jazz Fest in Arkansas the night before. "Too far", he said. We met in Jackson, MS on Saturday, spent the night at what seemed like the last available room in town and drove on the next morning to a small town outside of Shreveport, 6 hours north, to wait out the storm. At the Motel 6, my husband had made reservations for 5 nights. People were lined up when we got there, looking for a room. The hotel was sold out. Two cars, two cats, we eventually drove to CT to stay with family, feeling like refugees from a bad movie. No clothes, no cash, thank God for a laptop, a cell phone, and family. No way to go back home, no idea if your house is under water or has been looted. No idea where your friends and neighbors are or if they stayed. My city and neighborhood were in 'lock down"; no one was allowed in or out without a sheriff's pass. No electricity, no neighbors, no food stores or gas stations, just water, or a thick gray, stinking muck everywhere, once the water had drained. Days later, I watched live coverage as our head of Homeland Security, Michael Chertoff denied that there were any people stranded at the Convention Center, while CNN reporters were showing simultaneous live footage of people starving and baking in the 90 degree heat.
Truly surreal......"