Though I dreaded it, last week I went to see my grandmother's house.

In the background to the right you can see the pink installation Brad Pitt set up to draw attention to his redevelopment project. I wasn't planning to go there at all. I prefer seeing it on the Today show. But my cousin Bebe-- yes, I have one--needed a ride to our house on Christmas and specifically asked if I would pick her up. So after seeing the art installation-- you drive through it like the natural disaster version of Great Adventure Wild Safari, eh-- I took a deep breath and headed toward my grandmother's since it was on the way.

There are still no street signs. The installation is located in the same spot my father's mother lived for a short while on Jourdan Street. It was a sturdy, paint-worn house with the biggest yard ever. There was a huge tree. And when I close my eyes I see the oak leaves above my head and hear the creaky gate. I remember the view from the yard into the kitchen door and I remember the taste of her cooking---try as I might I cannot make rice like she did. Perfect long grains and always the best gravy over just about anything. I used the map hardwired in my head since childhood to count how many blocks to North Derbigny and then over ...is it one block or two? And now I'm disoriented. I look to my right and see a tan one story cottage with the remants of a terracotta colored roof. And I frown because that house is past my grandmother's...

I force myself to look to my left. I put the car in reverse and slowly back up the estimated length of three houses. That's where Gram house is. Was. I see a field of grass. In fact, I can see all the way past Reynes Street (pronounced like my name), Tennessee, and Deslonde to Brad's houses. That's when I look down to the pavement and see the numbers spray painted on the street.

This is where I drank six-ounce Cokes through a crazy straw; licked the cake batter out of the bowl while I watched Electric Company instead of going to school; soaked in the tub with Mr. Bubble and Zest soap, dried off with the 'good towels' and sprinkled way too much baby powder all over the floor. Here is where I tried on fancy hats, red lipstick, Estee Lauder perfume, and high heels then admired myself in a mirror with pictures of my cousins, shoulders draped in white fur stoles because they were graduating high school tucked in the corners.

Here is where I sat on the concrete porch playing jacks-- onesies and twosies while my Gram showed off by snatching eighties and ninesies before the ball hit the ground, flipping the jacks in the air and catching them on the back of her hand, then blowing my mind by doing the whole thing over but with a peach pit because she didn't have multicolored metal jacks and a bouncy rubber ball when she learned. It's where I slid around on the very same porch with the hose pipe in my Wonder Woman underoos while my PawPaw polished his new Impala. Where the rose bushes grew right up over the front window and the Claiborne Avenue bus passed all day and night long.

Here is where my grandfather mixed tobacco for his pipe sitting in his tweed covered recliner. And if I kissed his stubbled cheek and asked really sweeeeetly, he let me turn the huge, black and white, floor model Zenith to whatever I wanted. Even Mr. Rogers when the baseball game was on.

Here is where all my trophies from dancing school and science fair ended up on the dining room sideboard between the crystal punch bowl, fancy candle stickholders, dishes of peppermint candy, and bowl of big, fake plastic flowers.

This is where that is.

Second Anniversary

Well, I got through it...I completely immersed myself in work and even stayed late to try and make things go faster. I toyed with the idea of staying home, but when I woke up this morning I really wanted to get to work and stay busy. I have been determined to learn how to update our website-- I took a Dreamweaver workshop but never followed up. So today, I spent most of the day inputting new information for our website, reorganizing pages, and generally boosting my confidence. I know that I can learn these things, but on an irrational level I sometimes freeze a little contemplating projects that I'm not comfortable with or have lots of experience.

I was just not up to seeing Bush have his photo opps around New Orleans and Bay St. Louis. Ironically enough, my family is from both New Orleans and Bay St. Louis. I haven't been back to Bay St. Louis yet.

Tomorrow I have a big campus event. I hope it goes smoothly. I have no idea what to expect. Once that's over, I'll be able to exhale a little. But the campus is buzzing...students are coming back to campus and soon the pace will be brisker and there will be more calls and fires to put out.

...it's coming up soon.

When I got home, HBO was replaying "When the Levees Broke..." and I watched it.

It's the craziest thing that triggers the sadness. Looking too long at a photo, realizing that something I'm trying to find isn't around anymore, wanting some stewed okra but realizing there is nowhere to buy decent fresh shrimp...

These past two days, my body has been letting me know the anniversary is coming. My throat closes, my hands are all shaky, and the stuttering is back. I hate that. Because I can't disguise it. And I have no intention of explaining it to everybody. I dread answering the phone at work. But I'm glad too. I'm doing pretty good considering. Like Frankie Beverly says...

"Joy and pain is like sunshine and rain...
Over and over you can be sure
there will be sorrow but you can endure
Where there's a flower, there's the sun and the rain...
Oh and it's wonderful...They're both one in the same"

I guess I figured I would get over or past everything, but I think you just learn to live with it. As far away as I have moved, there has not been a day...720 come next Wednesday...that I do not hear the word Katrina. I know most people don't hear it at all anymore. But I hear it everyday. And that's OK...

For the next week, my posts might be kind of scattered...but I'm alright. Just have to talk about it sometimes.

You da man!

Brad Pitt has been using his celebrity to redirect attention to the unacceptable pace of recovery in New Orleans. He's also bought a house in the French Quarter and invested his money in an effort to develop a significant amount of green housing in the Ninth Ward.

Brad Pitt, I think I love you.

This country has been slammed with a whole bunch of 'stuff' (she says euphemistically) and I think, as a result, as a nation we've collectively checked out and vegged on celebrity twits who drive drunk, wear no panties, and bring the collective IQ down about ten points. I enjoy a little foolishness and gossip as much as the next person. But enough. If you are famous, use it for something worthwhile. You have everyone's attention? Well, say something!

While the media would rather focus on all things Brangelina, Brad Pitt has flipped the script and unwittingly tricked them into having to cover one of the most important, ONGOING social problems in our country right now. The slow, almost indifferent pace of recovery from Hurricane Katrina. It's sad commentary, but if not for Brad Pitt and a handful of other celebrities (I see you Don Cheadle and George Clooney!) the word DARFUR might never get mentioned in some media outlets or be on the radar screens of many of my disconnected, uninformed brethren.

Since they following him around anyway, Brad Pitt figures out a way to use the cameras for something important! He's forcing real news to resume their job descriptions and cover pertinent issues instead of pandering for the entertainment audience. And he's trapped entertainment programs into using clips of him saying things like 'social responsibility,' 'government accountability,' and 'social justice.' It's like someone turned on light and opened a window! Obviously, he is not just a pretty face. Brad got game!

So from this Ninth Ward Girl, thank you Brad Pitt. Next Mardi Gras we gon' Second Line just for you!

It's so hard to say goodbye...

I knew this day would come...but I put it off as long as I could. My license plate was due to expire tomorrow. It has a little sticker that shows when your registration expires, you know. Well, usually you get a renewal notice in the mail and you can take care of everything online. But I didn't get a renewal notice.
I waited and waited and waited...until today. This morning I made a very stressful call to the Louisiana Department of Motor Vehicles. I was freaking out a little...you never know when you're going to have a Katrina moment...even two years later. Anyhow...I didn't get a renewal notice because the state of Louisiana decreed that I had an 'insurance lapse' when I insured my car with an out-of-state carrier while I was dislocated. This struck me as ridiculous. Hundreds of thousands of people were dislocated and people had to make whatever temporary arrangements they could. and excuse me for choosing the best quote and having NO clue about this 'law.' Anyway after about 45 minutes of heated exchange with the DMV representative, I threw in the towel. They wanted me to fax in proof of my current insurance and since I am still not insured in Louisiana, I decided my time was better spent doing what I didn't want to do...cutting my last ties to my home state.
I spent half a day in the New York Department of Motor Vehicles, Harlem Office....and I do mean half the day--almost four hours--getting a New York driver's license and plates. Sigh. And just to throw salt in it all, I registered to vote here too. That cut the deepest. Louisiana politics are the best entertainment ever and I'll miss casting my absentee ballot.
So now I'm a New Yorker, I guess. I have to drill holes in my bumper (!) to display my new front plate. It's real bittersweet, y'all...My mother joked (I think she was joking) that this meant I wasn't coming home again.
Maybe though I will not be the victim of vandalism/burglary anymore. My car has been broken into twice and I really think it's because I had out-of-state plates...But I know I'm going to have trouble finding my car now...

fleeting moment

Today I was this close to freaking out. Since last night, I had been calling my mother and father and not getting an answer. I didn't think too much about it until I got to work this morning. It's not like my father to not answer or reply to my message, my mother is another story--she doesn't even know how to check her voicemail and doesn't want to learn.

Anyhow I started calling again and again I realized. The fact that I wasn't getting through only made me want to call more. My imagination was racing. My parents still can't get a landline at the house. So they both have cellphones and it didn't make sense that neither of them was answering. The smaller the intervals got between my calls...I had to do it...the more my anxiety increased. Finally my mother answered. She had been having reception problems and everything is fine.

It's things like that I think about. There's no going back to normal...there's only getting better from here. Nothing will ever be the same as before. I catch myself in moments doing things and reacting to life in ways that are so vulnerable and fragile. Sigh. It's fascinating and scary at the same time. None of what I'm writing probably makes much sense. But I'm trying not to be too conscious of that.

Post-traumatic stress is like having a fire drill every day. You know there isn't really a crisis but your body and emotions react as if there is one. And there are all kinds of trauma. There is the trauma of disaster or major events, but there is also trauma caused by personal experiences like psychological or physical crisis. It's hard for me to decide how much detail to blog about, but I have had all three. Most of them I had put into some sort of perspective. But Katrina is like a bad child tearing through the house pulling things off shelves and out of drawers. So things completely unrelated to Katrina get pulled out of mothballs. And just like a fire drill, your brain goes into its files and references anything associated with trauma to figure out how to cope with the latest event.

After having been almost completely shut down, it has been a shock to my system to be thrust back out into life again. And it's taking more time and patience and effort than I would have imagined to get my equilibrium back.

It's not all bad though...the most important memory in my mind's file is that I am strong and able. So most days, even when it doesn't seem like it, I have been sustained by the sincere belief that things will get better. I can't imagine what things what have been like it I wasn't so stubbornly convinced of that. And as I said, lately I have actually had more than just moments where everything seem back in sync. Like when you finally get a signal for the radio station you're searching for...

So that's why I post all the silly stuff. It makes me smile. And I'm not going to stop smiling, no matter what.

Everything has changed...

Since the last time I posted, I finally found a full time position. A really good one at Urban Ivy. So I finally have insurance again...I've been going to get check-ups everywhere! In the process, I found out that I have some post traumatic stress symptoms. Well I knew I did...but now I can actually do something about it.

I have been having panic attacks, headaches, insomnia, and really have changed in ways I can't describe. For the past two years, I've felt kind of out of sync and a bit scattered. I can't really put it into words, but I have been holding it all together with spit and Elmer's glue just praying that I'd be able to get myself re-established and on back on the path I am meant to follow. I've had a lot of distractions in the meantime, but I am really proud of myself for getting to this point. It's been awhile since Katrina, I know. But still not a day goes by that I am not reminded of it or affected by it. And that experience kind of churned up all the other difficult experiences I had before.

But I am using all this as an opportunity to understand myself better and to build a stronger future. The thing that bothered me most about Katrina was that despite all my hard work--I have been working since I was 13 years old--overnight I had nothing to show for it. I've moved from state to state and had always made excuses for not buying a house and just like that, I couldn't do any of the things I wanted to do. Watching my parents go through the process of rebuilding theirs made me feel more keenly that I had nothing to call my own. So now that I am working, I've decided one of my first goals is to save for a house of my own. It's going to take a little time. But I am firmly setting my intentions to have enough money for a down payment on a house by Christmas 2008--or sooner! And I am also doing the work of rediscovering myself. Things have been so disorienting. I literally lost track of myself. A lot of times unable to remember what I like and withdrawing from things I like to do. This month I have really challenged myself to reconnect. I have been reading voraciously! I've reconnected with friends. And I have some projects--very modest--in mind that I want to pursue. I am planning to travel--not too far at first! And I am just letting myself re-emerge.

We have no idea what we are capable of until we have the opportunity to face life. I never would have thought that the decisions I made one Saturday night

Sigh..

I don't even know if anyone evens reads my blog anymore, but I ccertainly haven't abandoned it. Today I figured I would just go ahead and post, maybe explain my lapses. If anyone is out there, I'd love some feedback.
I've been living in NYC about a month and a half. The new place is coming together. I wasn't up to having my Housewarming/Katrina Anniversary party. Too much more needs to happen before I feel comfortable having a party here. But I did have some friends over for dinner which was great fun.
Who knows what I thought was going to happen, but I am still looking for a traditional, full time job. Once I got here, I thought things would just fall into place. I'm still optimistic, but my attention has been divided. My mother decided she did not want Katrina's anniversary to find her in Virginia. Daddy came up last weekend and they packed up and set off for New Orleans. The only trouble is the house isn't finished. So there s nowhere for them and Gram to live. Gram is here in NYC with me. I can't figure out how I would look for a job and keep her so I've put my job search on hold again. I'm also waiting for my mother to find them a place so I can get Gram and Sam on a plane down there.
Today the whole thing was dragging me down a bit...I'd be thrilled to have Gram visit under any other circumstance, but I'm growing keenly more aware that I need to get focused and plugged in here and I haven't been doing that. Since I arrived I've been going back and forth to Virginia, and just generally fuzzy in my movements.
So I haven't much been in the frame to blog. I don't even know what to say. Who knew this would all still be dragging on?

The Cats are out of the Bag!

I was waiting patiently to write about this Saturday but Sam and Nairobi are already famous.Yay!

I'm just doomed...

to be in communicato. After I finally got the DSL up and running, it shut down. So I haven't been able to get back online until today.
I am exhausted.
We came in last night and found Gram slumped over in the kitchen. I called 911 and she spent the evening in an ER exam room. She was dehydrated and probably malnourished. I've been nagging her for weeks about not eating. But what can we do? Can't force the old lady to eat. She's promising to do better. I understand how she feels. This all has been no fun at all. Today I took her to see the eye doctor and now she's in her room.
I just can't keep up with all this.
Now something's wrong with my car. The turn indicators don't work. I hope it's just a fuse. I hardly have time for this. Tomorrow I'm going into DC then meeting Tonya. I'm going to babysit Nia Saturday morning and wait for Janella to come down from New York...I guess I need to turn in early tonight so I can keep up with everything. But I really could curl up in a little ball. It's pretty crisp today...Maybe yesterday was the last warm day...

back from new orleans

So this weekend, I went back home to New Orleans. Daddy and I drove down to survey and salvage. I must say that I was dreading the whole experience. But I did it.
My parents house will need to be completely gutted. The water came in about three-quarters up the staircase...about seven feet. Where the water didn't reach, there is mold. Funky mold on all the drywall, covering the furniture, coating our belongings. From one the berooms, you can see straight into the attic and sunlight streams in from the roof. In my room, latex puckers away from the walls, the ceilings threaten to give way...On the other side, my stuf is washed into a massive pile of pulpy, smelly muck...
So from here, I will backtrack and fill in everything I've been doing and plan to do. I've been offline because since I got to Warrenton, I've been without a reliable connection. As I type, I have a new DSL account with Verizon so I can type away...
I'll try and figure out how to post a photo or two...

Log in Lag...

Got a gazillion stories, but Verizon shafted us. Can't log in until we get phone service. Now I'm going to library branch and Red Cross. As soon as I get a place to log in I'll get back up to speed...

Storm weary

I was just reading about the growing strength of Rita. This evening I went into DC to attend a career networking event. Remember I was going to hit the ground running and all that? Well...whatever. The event was interesting, people were pretty friendly, I have some leads to follow up on...not jobs just friendly contacts...but I'm not feeling it.
Tomorrow we're getting the boot from this hotel because there's a big golf tournament in the area. The gas isn't on at the new place so no hot water or stove. But we can stay there.
I'm just thinking about that wall people hit. Maybe I'm coming up on it. I'm tired of being hopeful and focused. I tired of soldiering through. I just want to stop. I just cringed at being introduced as a "Katrina victim" and at the helpless, overwhelmed stares. "Oh" was a popular response to my third party intros. Here's Renea...she lost everything. The crazy thing is that then I feel compelled to comfort them. "We'll be ok" or "It's not as bad as it could have been" or, my favorite, "Hey! What are you gonna do?"
Everyone was really nice but I just don't want to talk about all this just yet. Some jerk actually asked me if any of my relatives or friends were killed or missing. Like I'm a hypothetical representative of "all this."
Ironically enough it does help to write about it. Whenever I can squeeze in a minute. Things have been so hectic this week I've barely had a chance to think.
Everyone's processing differently. I've developed this hard candy shell. Sometimes I just smile and try to be really nice, other times I cut right to it, no chaser. But I try not to let anything in...And while all my senses feel heightened, my emotions feel really dull. I told my parents we should all ask the Red Cross representative about seeing a counselor. By the way, the staff at the Fauquier Chapter of the Red Cross were extra kind...both of them, Phyllis and Denise. They have a small chapter and the two of them are part time. They have a lot of volunteers helping out.
I feel kind of detached and achy. My arm is all blotchy again but my face has stopped twitching this evening. I've been eating pretty well but not sleeping so much.
I dreamed Robi and Sam were sleeping with me. Sandwiching me in like they used to before Sam started prowling the streets like a real tomcat. I hate to think about them being gone. I tried to reassure myself that the feeling was a reassuring presence. But I feel like I failed them. I haven't gotten any reply about them being rescued. I'll keep checking. Even if I couldn't get them back I hope they find a safe home...
Sigh...

Downtime explained

OK-- I figured I'd be offline for a few days while I worked out all this moving stuff. But I didn't realize how difficult it would be to get online or how busy I'd be.
How I've spent my days:
1) Waiting for traffic to let up on the Beltway
2) Navigating maps and printing directions from the internet
3) Being late

I got to Maryland last Thursday...I think it was Thursday...the days blur together. But I didn't get to Warrenton until Friday. I think it was Friday. Anyway...the house is really nice. And so is the town and all the people I met. Of course I'm going to flesh all this out. But right now I fell like someone hit me with a bag of quarters.

Tonight despite the fact I am still crazily trying to get things settled at the house, I am driving into DC for a career network event. Got to meet the people. And I have no iron. So I may be rumpled and late. There's a look. But I should be able to work my posting out Thursday and beyond. Oh the stories I'll tell...

Moving...

It's my second full day in Maryland. I arrived Thursday evening. All the days are running together. I have to check to make sure I know for sure when I left and where I am now. Yesterday I was able to drive into Warrenton and check out the place. My parents are going to be OK there. Today I just need to get some things for Gram, safety rails for the bathroom...I'm going to try and find Mom a tin rooster...just so she'll feel at home.
I'm starting to lose my energy. Once they arrive, I'll really have to process all this. Yesterday I was driving around on the Beltway realizing that there was no home for me to go back to...when my parents arrive, here is where we will be. I am feeling inundated with choices and information. Sitting in traffic yesterday was really the first time I started to get angry and short-tempered about all this. I'm not sure if I should stop and let all this emotion come through or just keep it moving...
This morning I remembered not to put on the same jeans and t-shirt. The routine, uniform was getting kind of comforting. Monday I'll be able to catch up to the Red Cross and really look around Warrenton.
I was reading some of my internet sites for info. One African American message board has already erupted with backlash. People from Houston complaining about people from New Orleans...critiquing how they are allegedly spending their "FEMA money," griping about their behavior and the whole situation. I'm glad we didn't go there. I think like Baton Rouge, Houston, Dallas, maybe even Atlanta are going to have the first outbreaks of 'compassion fatigue' if not outright breakdown. I'm told there are 23 other families relocated by Katrina in Fauquier County, Virginia but I'm not sure where they're from our what their situation is...I'll tell all when I find out.
I've been putting off this FEMA paperwork, but I guess I need to get back to that.
I think it may be a bit trickier to get back into the swing of things than I imagined...

Leaving Port Allen for VA

So my parents had no luck finding housing to accomodate them and Gram in the Baton Rouge area. Gary's family came through big time, so I'm leaving tomorrow (!) to get some things set up in Virginia. My parents will follow in a few days.
So dont' send mail or anything to us in Port Allen. We won't get it.
When I get a new address, I'll let you know...
I should be back to blogging by next week.

Break from Katrinaland

Today I took a break…My parents went out to look for housing, find secondary support for Gram. I only went out once, stopping at local farmers’ market and finally getting a notebook and pens.
So now FEMA is going to throw some cash our way. I can’t find any info about how or when these debit cards will be distributed. I am also concerned about whether my grandmother will receive one. My mother hasn’t talked to her, as far as I know, about this whole insurance hot potato thing. But we have to get it together and file an appeal. Zero dollars for someone’s house fully submerged by water! Bureaucracy reigns. Foolishness reigns!
I really needed a break today. A mental health break. But I don’t want to lose momentum. So either late tonight or first thing tomorrow I’m going to use my new notebook and pen to start a list of job leads and other tasks that need follow-up. I’ve been trying to keep them in my brain…not the most reliable filing system right now.
She didn’t have a lot of details, but apparently the housing market in Baton Rouge is bleak. They were shown a really unacceptable place that even the agent was embarrassed about. They’re going to get back to it tomorrow. The plan is to work something out with their mortgage company or something.
Some of the kids at the motel are going to school. I wonder what it’s like for them. Others run around all day unattended. I wonder what their parents are thinking. Orleans Parish has announced that school is probably closed until January, another parish—St. Bernard, I think—has thrown in the towel for the entire academic year. There’s a sweet little baby on the first floor who’s been wearing the same t-shirt for three days- “Somebody in Costa Playa Loves Me”—another curly haired toddler trods around in diapers and baby work boots. All he says is “Hi”…he’s very focused on staying upright in those big boots.
There are three guys staying the room next door to us. Every night they split a case of beer in the parking lot under a tree. Today I saw a big fluffy cat in someone’s window, gray with that smooshy, flat face.
So the horror begins again. Soledad O’Brien is reporting on over thirty people found dead in a Chalmette nursing home…some dead in their beds…and about 100, also in Chalmette who died awaiting rescue at the Chalmette Slip.
It’s hard to strike the right balance watching all this coverage. I want to know everything. I want to honor those who have lost their lives by not turning away. But I guess you could drown in sorrow taking this all in…
After 9/11 I felt the same way. Coincidentally, I had left New York City the day before that tragedy. How can I turn away? How can I not?
Now it’s my own hometown. I watch the reporters rowing through neighborhoods and I scan the poles for street signs…
Now FEMA wants to ban photos of dead bodies. When will they stop trying to spin and get to their work? If they were helping people they wouldn’t have time to censor the press. I wish someone would tell them to stop telling people who have lost all their possessions to go ONLINE and file a claim. I wish they would dispatch their representatives to the area and start trying to convince people they have some humanity. Now that would be a PR coup…

Oprah in Katrinaland

So the motel TV is copperating enough for me to see Oprah Winfrey today. Apparently, she came down to New Orleans this weekend and tape an episode. I love that woman. Of course, I'm a weepy, snotty mess. But I'm glad that her audience will be reminded that this is still going on. I can't believe how tramautized I feel, and I am lucky. I left before the storm started. I watched the rain come with my family through our motel window. And when I dream at night my house is still there. I have not seen or heard or smelled or feared or known what these faces register. But I still cry everyday...
Thanks Oprah. Thank you for talking and seeing and caring and mostly for making your audience look and understand and witness.
On CNN, they are now discussing New Orleans. People are writing in that they should turn the city into a theme park. Keep the French Quarter and let the rest go back to marshland. My childhood under water. My parents and my grandparents hard earned homes paved over...Wow...People don't think about how the words they say might sound. That damn Barbara Bush. The lives these 'underprivileged' people were living had dignity and value. They are not "better off" or "making out much better" because this calamity swept through their days.
I'm not sure how things will ever get back to normal...not ever.

Barbara Bush comes to Katrinaland

So what am I supposed to be shocked? This is the woman who first looked at George W, surveyed her job as a parent and said, "Mission Accomplished!"
I guess poor people everywhere can thank the Bush Admininstration for turning Katrina into the first natural disaster social service program. Next Washington D.C. will find its poor swept into better environs perhaps by monsoon winds.
As long as she kept her mouth shut, I used to enterain the fantasy that Barbara Bush was just as dumbfounded by her sons and husband as I have been. But now she's opened her mouth. That whole family is a bunch of pseudo-patrician, anti-intellectual misanthropes who could care less about anything or anyone that isn't related to their own cliquish, oil-grubbing world. At least W is a lame duck, soon we'll be done with them.
I applied for the unemployment. I have to wait as long as seven days to find out if I'm eligible.
My grandmother got a letter from FEMA today. It says she is eligible for $0. That's right. I called in and was told that anyone with homeowners' insurance is automatically disqualified. This despite the fact the aftermath of the hurricane damage was caused by flooding which is specifically disallowed by homeowners' insurance. Then I was told I was technically making a help call, to call back in a week because they are focusing on taking claims.
OK. So if my grandmother had no savings, she would be in a shelter. Now she's has to fight Uncle Sam to prove something they should already know. Flooding is not covered by homeowner's insurance. Compounding this all, I'm not even sure my grandmother has homeowner's insurance. She says she does, but I don't know. She also says she asked her agent for a flood policy for a year and got nothing...but that's another rant for another time. Now, though she has no paperwork, I'm going to have to harass my grandmother to remember the name fo the company she has homeowner's insurance with...file a claim, get a letter--if she's covered--that says flood damage is disallowed, and file an appeal with FEMA within 60 days. If she runs out of money to keep her motel room before then, I suppose I should bring her to a shelter...
Oh people, if you only knew...

Since my grandmother lives on her and my deceased grandfather's social security benefits, she qualifies as part of Barbara Bush's new upwardly mobile social segment. Yes, indeed. Gram's getting fat off Uncle Sam. She's moved up like George and Weezy. FEMA said no, but I'm sure she'll get those food stamps. And everyone knows what a bonanza Medicare is...discounted prescriptions and all. WTF! I can't believe Barbara Bsh thinks the Astrodome is the threshold to the promised land, I can't believe she thought New Orleans was such a hellhole anyway!

Gosh, I learn so much everyday...

Katrinaland

Maybe I'll change the name of my blog for awhile...Anyhow, after apologizing for losing yesterday's post, I see it went up...typos and all. Go figure! I came back to balance it. I don't mean to suggest that everything that is going on is racial. I think a good chunk of the failure to respond has been garden-variety ineptitude. And I also don't mean to paint Baton Rouge with a broad brush...many of the people here have been very nice and this experience has been traumatic for everyone. But like my favorite novel--Invisible Man--I couldn't help but to fill out the opportunities I've had to see how race continues to play out in this situation. That is what I am interested in, so that is what I muse on. I'll probably touch on class, gender and other social issues as well as occasionally having personal moments (pity parties, I got a right!) I'll get to put all that theory into praxis again. and I will write my posts before I log on...I'm seeing other people are finding my blog, please bear with the fact that I also use this site to communicate with my friends. If you would please consider the quasi-personal nature of what I may be posting here I would appreciate it. Translation...don't scare me by sending weird letters to me or my parents in my post office box, we've been through enough.