3rd Anniversary of Hurricane Katrina

August 29th, 2008 will be the 3rd anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. Over the next week there could be seemingly paradoxical reports; those lamenting the lack of progress and others with accolades on the progress made.

But this milestone may be overshadowed by the Democratic convention and the first African-American nominee for President. Whatever your political persuasion, we have to appreciate the determination and this great country where anything is possible.

The other day a friend told me about her sister-in-law whose church is sponsoring 2 families from New Orleans. Her sister-in-law had told her, "These kids are so lucky that Katrina came along". At first my friend thought it was a rather arrogant thing to say, but then she thought of us and "our kids".

As she talked, an image flashed through my mind, a mental picture of where "our kids" might be if they still lived in New Orleans. I pictured the Projects where their mom hung out, the red brick 3 story buildings that stretched for several blocks separated by blacktop, with foul-smelling dumpsters that overflowed onto the ground. I could see people hanging out on the steps and gathered in boisterous groups. The adults pay no attention to the kids nearby, running and chasing each other, laughing and chattering, their imaginary games making up for the lack of toys.

The atmosphere is static as the adults, beer in hand, keep a watchful eye on anyone who might be ready to cause trouble for them. The kids seem to be in their own little world, but their eyes dart around as they recite their made up poems, their hands slapping and clapping with the rhythm of the words.

As darkness comes, the gathering of adults grows by numbers and in volume. Empty beer cans are thrown in the direction of the dumpsters. Leaning up against the dumpsters are those who have passed out from an overdose of beer and/or drugs. The children eventually find their way into an apartment, whether it is theirs or that of a friend, to fall asleep on a couch if they are lucky, but most likely on the floor with the "cockyroaches" and "squeeky mices". Pajamas are unknown to them. They have never had a bed of their own. Their stomachs empty, but they are used to the dull aching.

They sleep until they wake up, there is no meaning for time of day. It may be the stirring of others that wakes them, or when the hunger pains become more intense. If they are lucky they can find something in the tiny kitchen to eat; a cinnamon roll wrapped in cellophane or a package of chips.

As the adults came to life, they ask about their mom. Did anyone know where she had spent the night? They had heard about a "raper man" and finding mom would give them a sense of security.

This day would be no different than the previous one or the one to follow. Making up new variations on their games, seeking out something to eat, keeping an eye on who was around and an ear to everything that was going on; these were the activities that filled each day. Survival depended on it. School would have been a welcome diversion to the monotony of the Projects, but since mom did not see the value of education, they seldom went.

"At least here they have someone who cares about them." My friends voice brought an abrupt end to the video that had been playing in my mind.

As I thought about what to write about as the anniversary of Katrina approaches, I decided that this week we will celebrate the success and achievements of "our kids".

To be continued . . .




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