Roving packs of wild tree cutters are attacking the city with guttural growls. After dismembering their prey, they leave the scene, sometimes carrying the carcass with them, more often leaving it behind, looking only for the kill. Sometimes you see a lone treewolf, but frequently they travel in packs of two or three. Regardless of pack size, wherever you look in the city, you see the carnage left by their passage. And these wolves mark every corner with signs of their passage: "Stump Grinding! Free Estimates!"
They passed through my yard on Friday. The lovely cedar tree in our back yard (Kathe and I have a serious disagreement about my use of that descriptive term – she has always thought it was ugly) has fallen victim – literally – to the post-Katrina cleanup. When we came home, it was leaning precariously against the shed of our neighbor to the east. Three guys attacked the tree, carving it up with the chainsaws, and left to attack another tree in another sector of the city. For one day, our cedar tree sat in a large pile on our front lawn, cut into more manageable and shreddable chunks.
I completely expected to have to wait a pre-Katrina length of time for the pile to be picked up. Before Katrina, a pile of debris like that would have lasted a month, perhaps two, until the grass beneath the pile was dead and the ground poisoned. The only official action that would have been taken would have been to write us a citation for not moving the pile of garbage back from the curb to beside the house every time they failed to pick it up (I'm not kidding – we got just such a citation last year). In the post-Katrina era, less than 24 hours after being placed on the curb, the entire pile was attacked by two bobcats, and within an hour it was all piled up in the trailer and hauled off. Amazing.
No less so than the previously mentioned refrigerator. Someone took at face value the sign I placed on it "Free to a Good Home", dumped most of the maggot-infested contents on our front lawn, and took it away, presumably to a good home. Meanwhile, the rest of the block continues to sport duct-tape adorned refrigerators, so the action was not part of a general cleanup.
I have to admit that I was troubled by the presence of the maggots. Not surprised, perhaps, but troubled. What food am I eating that carries fly eggs? Is it the meat? Leftovers? In any case, when the power went out, the flies hatched and reproduced. And they did it again and again, until the electricity was turned on again, at which point they all died.
Hmph. I think I'll skip lunch today.
The real estate agent came by yesterday to look at the house. We are putting the house up for sale. The process is extremely painful – Kathe and I put our soul into the building, renovating, and decorating of this house, and it feels as though we scarcely got the boxes unpacked before we are now selling it.
Double hmph.
Speaking of not quite getting to live in a house, Saturday the Times Picayune published a story on two of my friends, Jason Emery and Katie Lintott. These guys, bless their hearts, bought a house, spent three months restoring it so that they could live in it, moved their stuff in, and fled the city the day they were supposed to move in.
Now they have been working to make their place livable again. And still have not spent the night in the house they own. Check out the story at: http://www.nola.com/search/index.ssf?/base/living-1/1133592639325970.xml?nola (story no longer archived)
We have done a little driving around the city in the past few days, and it is an odd admixture of emotions that I am hit with. Areas where I expected devastation are remarkably unscathed. Very little of the old city is damaged – there are FEMA blue roofs everywhere, but everything seems to be working well.
Other areas are in deplorable condition, and it is heartbreaking to see it.
A recent letter to the editor in the T-P stated that the city can't have it both ways. It cannot proclaim to the world: "We are open and ready for business!" while also stating that it is worse than it is being reported in the media, and that we are in direst need of help. The unfortunate truth is that it is very much like that. The French Quarter was almost completely undamaged. Ditto parts of the Uptown area. Most of the areas that tourists visited have already bandaged up the worst of their wounds and have opened again.
Other areas are just recently being opened for residents to return. Most of these areas are off the tourists' maps of New Orleans. Much of it is residential areas on the outskirts of the city. But the devastation there is intense, and New Orleans does not have the resources to help its residents to rebuild. And here exists the weird duality: in order for New Orleans to rebound, people have got to visit – the tourist industry is too integral a part of our economy to lose. But if we say that we are up and running, we risk offending the people who try to help aid those whose lives have been overwhelmed by the destruction of their houses and livelihood here in the city.
What we really need is a Big, Easy solution. It is most unfortunate that the solutions available are neither.
They passed through my yard on Friday. The lovely cedar tree in our back yard (Kathe and I have a serious disagreement about my use of that descriptive term – she has always thought it was ugly) has fallen victim – literally – to the post-Katrina cleanup. When we came home, it was leaning precariously against the shed of our neighbor to the east. Three guys attacked the tree, carving it up with the chainsaws, and left to attack another tree in another sector of the city. For one day, our cedar tree sat in a large pile on our front lawn, cut into more manageable and shreddable chunks.
I completely expected to have to wait a pre-Katrina length of time for the pile to be picked up. Before Katrina, a pile of debris like that would have lasted a month, perhaps two, until the grass beneath the pile was dead and the ground poisoned. The only official action that would have been taken would have been to write us a citation for not moving the pile of garbage back from the curb to beside the house every time they failed to pick it up (I'm not kidding – we got just such a citation last year). In the post-Katrina era, less than 24 hours after being placed on the curb, the entire pile was attacked by two bobcats, and within an hour it was all piled up in the trailer and hauled off. Amazing.
No less so than the previously mentioned refrigerator. Someone took at face value the sign I placed on it "Free to a Good Home", dumped most of the maggot-infested contents on our front lawn, and took it away, presumably to a good home. Meanwhile, the rest of the block continues to sport duct-tape adorned refrigerators, so the action was not part of a general cleanup.
I have to admit that I was troubled by the presence of the maggots. Not surprised, perhaps, but troubled. What food am I eating that carries fly eggs? Is it the meat? Leftovers? In any case, when the power went out, the flies hatched and reproduced. And they did it again and again, until the electricity was turned on again, at which point they all died.
Hmph. I think I'll skip lunch today.
The real estate agent came by yesterday to look at the house. We are putting the house up for sale. The process is extremely painful – Kathe and I put our soul into the building, renovating, and decorating of this house, and it feels as though we scarcely got the boxes unpacked before we are now selling it.
Double hmph.
Speaking of not quite getting to live in a house, Saturday the Times Picayune published a story on two of my friends, Jason Emery and Katie Lintott. These guys, bless their hearts, bought a house, spent three months restoring it so that they could live in it, moved their stuff in, and fled the city the day they were supposed to move in.
Now they have been working to make their place livable again. And still have not spent the night in the house they own. Check out the story at: http://www.nola.com/search/index.ssf?/base/living-1/1133592639325970.xml?nola (story no longer archived)
We have done a little driving around the city in the past few days, and it is an odd admixture of emotions that I am hit with. Areas where I expected devastation are remarkably unscathed. Very little of the old city is damaged – there are FEMA blue roofs everywhere, but everything seems to be working well.
Other areas are in deplorable condition, and it is heartbreaking to see it.
A recent letter to the editor in the T-P stated that the city can't have it both ways. It cannot proclaim to the world: "We are open and ready for business!" while also stating that it is worse than it is being reported in the media, and that we are in direst need of help. The unfortunate truth is that it is very much like that. The French Quarter was almost completely undamaged. Ditto parts of the Uptown area. Most of the areas that tourists visited have already bandaged up the worst of their wounds and have opened again.
Other areas are just recently being opened for residents to return. Most of these areas are off the tourists' maps of New Orleans. Much of it is residential areas on the outskirts of the city. But the devastation there is intense, and New Orleans does not have the resources to help its residents to rebuild. And here exists the weird duality: in order for New Orleans to rebound, people have got to visit – the tourist industry is too integral a part of our economy to lose. But if we say that we are up and running, we risk offending the people who try to help aid those whose lives have been overwhelmed by the destruction of their houses and livelihood here in the city.
What we really need is a Big, Easy solution. It is most unfortunate that the solutions available are neither.
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