I am on the road, in Louisiana for a marketing meetings with a gem of a company located on the north shore of Lake Pontrachain. On the other side is New Orleans, or what was New Orleans.
My practice takes me to many cities. On each visit, I always ask myself, is this a place I could live? Does a whisper remind me to return? Mostly, it’s an intellectual exercise–my assignment is over and I’m gone like a cool breeze. This, however, is one sweet place.
This was my first visit to New Orleans since Katrina, so my friend Kenny took me for a ride. We passed through a neighborhood full of restaurants and shops and traffic lights, bustling with everyday life and we crossed the levee into the Lakeview section.
Once this area was under more than 20 feet of water. You can see the high water mark at the tops of the (really nice) homes. Everything is gray. The buckled roads, the yawning houses, the toppled trees are all gray. Not a bird, nor a blade of grass. No squirrels. No kids on bikes. Just gray. Drapes, chairs, beds, hopes and dreams--dead in the sun on the gray lawns. Some orange insulation blew down the street. Occasionally we’d see a FEMA trailer.
At 17th street, where the levee broke, it looks like a hose turned on an anthill, with twisted walls and eddies of gray dirt. You’ve seen it on TV, only you really haven’t seen it at all. And it hasn’t changed since the water was pumped out.
I believe the Constitution of this great country of ours refers to a nation of the people, by the people and for the people. It’s time for some sober thinking about how the situation in New Orleans got so out of hand, and what needs to be done now to put it right.
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