Grey Bayou

March 7

As we left this a.m. we pulled into a local garage to have the RV’s oil changed. On recommendation of the campground, I had met the owner of the garage, about my age, a few days ago and had prearranged the date and time. We arrived at 8 and found the shop closed. Alas, Rickey arrived about 8:10. With 500 miles to travel in 2 days, you can, if you know me well, imagine that I was “chomping at the bit” to get the work done so we could get on the road.

After Rickey directed me into a bay of his neighborhood garage, he walked to the driver’s window. As I opened the window he said in his heavy southern drawl, “Pud don yo fwont dawg legs.” I had to pause a minute. “Dog legs,” I had only heard that term in relation to canines and golf. But I put it into context and lowered my front leveling jacks.

As I readied to quickly leave so he could work on the rig in a timely manner, Rickey had questions. “Yo frum Warshintun state?” “Wad ya see har in Nawlens?” and other questions. He readily went into his Katrina story. I have found that you rarely have to ask. Apparently they are happy to see tourists and I imagine that the locals are tired of telling their story to each other.

Rickey related that he left Friday before the storm hit. He and his wife drove upstate to stay with his sister. The day after the storm subsided he began his way back alone. Roads were impassable into the city so he made his way to the Mississippi River levy and drove it (the bike/walking path that Barb and I experienced the first day) to his shop which was located just a block from the levy. The normally one day trip took two days. On arrival he found two sources of damage. The wind had blown out his front windows and looters had stolen tools, tires, and had even poked holes in gas tanks of the vehicles parked in the lot to steal the gas.

I can’t write in southern so I’ll paraphrase. “First thing I did when I arrived, I strapped on my gun and wore it for 5 weeks. I heard gunfire every once in awhile over yonder,” he said pointing to a local neighborhood. “There were no cops here. They were down in the flood areas trying to rescue people.” Ricky then related how he boarded up his windows to secure his shop. Then he cleaned out the water (not surge related, only rain damage) then began to work on repairing cars. He could not get parts so he had to rely on cleaning and repairing parts. No grocery stores were open (at least this area had water) and finally his wife drove down from upstate. Then she drove the 70 miles to Baton Rouge every other day, through the security check points, to get parts and groceries.

Ricky had the oil changed by 11. This kind man, a sole proprietor with no employees at this time, mentioned as I paid my bill, that my coolant level was low and he had added some, and the brakes looked good. “Drive carefully,” he urged me on departure, “and when you come back again, look me up. On a Sunday, my wife and I will take you down to (couldn’t understand the name but it is southern delta) where we grew up. Ain’t nothin there. The storm took everythin. Just the water towers are still layin on the ground.”

While Rickey changed the oil, Barb and I drove down to have coffee at the local Starbucks. I sat on in the sofa section, Barb preferred a table. We both worked on our journals, she writing in her book, I with the laptop. Soon a group of 3 ladies sat in the sofa chairs near me. It was not long until I had to put the laptop away to listen as each (late 30’s) spilled out their Katrina experiences. Again, no prompting was needed. Each had evacuated with their families. Two had gone to Houston. The six hour drive was 15 hours. All had been out for at least 3 weeks. They had taken clothes and money for 3 days. One related that when she did return she felt like she was in Viet Nam in the 70’s. Check points, no electricity, helicopters flying overhead, stories of daily violence. There was no electricity in this area, an area without flooding, for five weeks. Since it was August/ September, the humidity, heat and rain fostered an unprecedented growth of mold. Food and clothes began to arrive but they could not get fuel.

All three were thankful to the Guard, FEMA, and the volunteers. One said, "Isn't great that we live in a country that has created a department like FEMA." Another one shared an interesting thought. “You know what Katrina means, don’t you? It means cleansing. Many people left and we don’t want them back.” We had heard this referenced before. Katrina is German for Katherine, which does have Greek roots meaning “pure”. It is interesting that some radical religious groups (Don’t you just love these false prophets? Would radio survive without them? ) identified Katrina with cleansing, thereby rationalizing God’s judgment on the sinfulness of New Orleans. It is interesting to note that the French Quarter, where a significant portion of the gay population live, and where a significant part of the partying does go on, was not flooded and did not experience severe wind damage. Most of the inundated areas were in the middle class and the working poor areas. The high rise hotels, Super Dome, and business areas were devastated. The upper-class housing area, relatively unscathed. That is because the upper class housing areas and the French Quarter are on higher elevation. The first to arrive here built on high ground. Wouldn’t you?

All 3 were glad that the Police Chief and Governor had been replaced. They were surprised that the Mayor had kept his job.

The drive out of New Orleans passed through the home of LSU and on to the west on elevated roadway over the Bayou and Cajun area of Louisiana. It was a March day typical of Tacoma, grey, cold and a slight rain (actually, you had a lot better weather than we did). Barb and I wished that we could have stopped and explored the areas around Lafayette, but our schedule would not permit it. It was not an easy drive but we are now settled safely in an RV park in the outskirts of Houston. The roads were rough and I think 80% of I-10 between New Orleans and Houston is under reconstruction. Also, winds from the north battered us all day long. But we are safe and comfortable and only a few hours drive from our dear friends in San Antonio.