Saturday, October 08, 2005

Part Sixty-One

Peggy and Raoul went to New Orleans with Raoul's sister, Fran, to help the Lambert family recover from Hurricane Katrina. Fran's lifelong friend, Agnes Lambert, had died just before the storm.

Monday, Oct 3

Peggy noticed a striking fact during her first day in Agnes Lambert's neighborhood: she didn't meet a single person who wasn't totally preoccupied with some aspect of storm recovery. It was all anyone talked about. It was all they did.

Along the streets Peggy saw great heaps of soggy wallboard and insulation, rolls of muddy carpet, mattresses splotched with mold, linens and pillows stained black, various furniture parts eaten away by rot and mold. In some spots the pile of residue was higher than the house from which it had been removed. Cars competed with trash for parking spaces.



The high water mark in a house was plainly visible on contents that were piled in front of it: an ever-present band of dirt around the bottoms of sofas, recliners, desks, bookcases and appliances. Anything low to the ground was ruined. Pots and pans that had been in the lower levels of kitchen cabinets had become rusted scraps of metal. They were tossed onto the piles of trash along with toys, waterlogged stereos, swollen speakers, shoes, clothes and books.



And that wasn't all. The household debris was equally matched by tree trunks, branches, leaves and other natural storm residue.





"Who's going to pick this stuff up?" Peggy asked Annie as they returned from a trip to a coffee shop. Annie was one of Agnes Lambert's daughters.

"Jefferson Parish is supposed to be sending trucks around," said Annie. "Don't hold your breath." Then she paused. "On second thought, in some areas you must hold your breath."

"Have you noticed how similar all the piles of trash are?" said Peggy. "When your belongings are in your house where they are supposed to be, you think of them as being unique and personal. But when everything is wet and moldy and sitting in a heap in your front yard, then it's just trash."

Annie looked at her. "I suppose it's comforting to know that your trash is just as trashy as your neighbor's."

Peggy laughed, then stopped herself. "Forgive me for seeing humor in this."

"We've got to laugh at something."

Peggy held styrofoam cups of iced coffee in her lap while Annie drove the car back to Agnes's house. It was a hot, bright afternoon.

"So how have you been holding up?" Peggy asked Annie, who had a permanent look of tiredness in her expression.

"The kids finally went back to school today," she said. "That's a relief. But now they have this crazy schedule because their school is sharing classroom space with a high school in town that can't reopen. I don't know how those big high school kids are going to fit in those little desks. But whatever. My kids go in real early and come home early. Everything is chaotic. The mail still isn't being delivered. The phones don't work right, it takes twenty minutes of trying to get through to anybody."

Peggy was thinking of something to say when Annie said, "But you have to be careful who you complain to."

"Why?" asked Peggy.

"Because there's always somebody who's got it worse. Jeanette, for example, lived in Lakeview and lost everything. She's really feeling down about this."

"Where is she staying?"

"She's at my house with her kids. Her husband got reassigned to Baton Rouge and my husband's in Houston. It's a pain but we're happy to still have jobs."

"I believe you had a job as well, didn't you?" said Peggy.

"I was a dental hygienist, but there's absolutely no work. Nobody cares about their teeth at the moment. So I got laid off."

"Sorry to hear that. Did you get any storm damage?" asked Peggy.

Annie shook her head. "We live in River Ridge, which stayed dry."

They were stopped at an intersection and Peggy saw what was becoming a familiar sight: dozens of temporary signs advertising storm-related services. Katrina had become a cottage industry. If you needed mold treatment or carpet removed or your roof repaired or a fallen tree chopped up, then all you had to do was drive to the nearest corner and write down some phone numbers. You could also buy new appliances, get your car repaired or hire a lawyer to sue the government.



When Peggy and Annie got back to the house with the iced coffee Raoul came out to greet them wearing the standard uniform of the day: yellow rubber gloves, face mask and white coverings over his shoes. The pile in front of the house had grown larger with the addition of a chair with a moldy seat cushion and a ruined television stand.

"We're making progress," he said.

She handed him an iced coffee. "I suppose we measure progress by the size of the trash pile," said Peggy.

Raoul paused and glanced up and down the street at the growing piles of debris. "As bad as this is, I'm told that it's nothing compared to what's within the city itself."

"That's exactly what Annie was just telling me."

Annie chimed in from behind them as she put her cell phone away. "As a matter of fact you'll get the grand tour. That was Jeanette. The city is saying they'll let Lakeview residents go in tomorrow. She would like us to come with her."

"I imagine there will be lots to clean," said Raoul.

Annie shielded her eyes from the glaring sun. "Actually, there won't be anything to clean. My brother, Hulie, has been telling us about it. He's a contractor, so he's had to go into the worst areas on survey teams and he said that the neighborhoods that have been underwater for several weeks are like dead zones. He doesn't think there will be anything salvageable. I think Jeanette just wants company."

Peggy felt a certain weariness sink in as she ventured back into Agnes's house. She had been hoping the musty, moldy smell would magically go away, but it broke over her in waves as she stepped into the wrecked interior. The floors were bare concrete, the wood framing was exposed in the walls following the removal of the lower four feet of wallboard and insulation. The kitchen and bathroom cabinets were in the process of being carted out by Raoul. The smell of bleach mingled with mold and dust. The refrigerator still worked, and everyone had heaped loads of praise on Peggy for having the presence of mind to clean out the refrigerator and freezer when they evacuated before the storm.

Peggy donned her face mask and returned to her sorting task with Annie and Fran. It was one thing to go through storm-damaged property and sort good from bad, and fume over the indiscriminate nature of natural disasters. It was tragic, it seemed, that those awful coasters from Niagara Falls survived while your favorite recording of Pablo Casals didn't. But in the case of the Lambert family, the survivors also had to make decisions about passing on their departed mother's belongings. Agnes had not left detailed instructions in her will. It was up to the family members to agree on who gets this or that item. One problem they faced is that the very people who wanted certain items were in no position to take them.

"Jeanette wants the old rocker," said Annie to her sister Shirley over the phone. "...I know she can't take it now, she wants someone to hold it... I don't have room and neither does Hulie... she can't afford to store it, and besides do you have any idea what it's like trying to get a storage unit around here? I called a few places and they laughed at me... Why don't you give her the dishes in exchange for the rocker? Talk to her, she needs dishes, she needs everything... Good luck...Bye."

Peggy had suggested gathering like items together, thinking that it would make the choosing of keepsakes easier. Annie liked that idea and within a few hours they had sorted several boxes of memorabilia. One was a box of Christian crosses collected during Agnes's travels to holy sites with her husband. Another box contained shot glasses and beer glasses, many from the same cities and towns as the crosses. One large box was filled with refrigerator magnets. "We're going to establish a rule for these magnets," Annie declared. "Whoever gave it to Mom gets it back."

Fran had compiled a box with nothing but menus and match books from restaurants. "Look at this one," said Fran. "It's from the Camellia Grill. Agnes and I used to go there when we were at Tulane together."



"I have a great story about the Camellia Grill," said Annie. "My Mom and Dad went there a lot when they were dating, and one of the guys behind the counter was a tall man who was bald on top and had black hair on the sides and black-rimmed glasses. He was a real character. Twenty-five years later when my husband and I were dating we went to Camellia Grill all the time because we lived Uptown and that same man was still working there, still telling jokes and carrying on five conversations at once."

"What a timeless place," said Peggy.

Hulie arrived in his pickup truck late in the afternoon.

"What's all that junk in the back of your truck?" Annie asked when they had all gone outside for a break.

"You wouldn't believe what people are throwing away. That's a perfectly good refrigerator," said Hulie.

"But it probably had rotten food in it," said Annie.

"There was a couple of old cucumbers. I hosed it out and sprayed it with bleach. Good as new. You see, it's a Subzero, with the motor and all the electrical components mounted on top. Nothing critical got wet."

"That's disgusting."

"Check out this lawnmower. It started right up once I drained the water out of the crankcase. And look, somebody threw out these solid cypress beams because they were underwater," said Hulie, holding up some lengths of board.

"Do you think maybe they are moldy and rotten?" said Annie.

"This is cypress. It grows in water."

"Well I say if you have space for all that junk then maybe you should store some of Mom's stuff for Jeanette."

"I don't have space. I'm selling this stuff. I already have a buyer for the fridge, and I know somebody who can use the cypress."

Peggy considered this as she looked at the growing pile in front of Agnes's house. "Do you think we're throwing away salvageable items?" she asked.

Hulie shook his head as he surveyed the heap. "So far we haven't thrown away anything made of solid wood. Wood is more durable than people think. What is not durable is all this particle board crap. When it gets wet it expands like a sponge."



Peggy made a note to herself: buy solid wood furniture if you live in a flood plain.

In the evening they gathered for dinner at Annie's house. "Chicken and rice is about all I can manage," she declared. It was generally noisy with everyone talking at once, but Jeanette was silent and brooding. Everyone knew what was on her mind. It was useless to try to talk about other things, because there was only one thing.


Tuesday, Oct 4

The next morning, after the children had been deposited at their respective schools, Raoul loaded up Annie's car with boots, gloves and face masks. Hulie picked up Jeanette in his truck and the group made its away across Metairie toward the Orleans Parish line.

As they attempted to cross into the city limits they were stopped by a National Guardsman who explained that the Mayor of New Orleans had announced earlier in the day that residents would not be allowed in.

Peggy could see Jeanette leaning over Hulie to talk to the guard.

"She must be furious," Annie said.

Finally Hulie made a u-turn and Annie followed. Then Hulie turned down another street and drove through a rundown neighborhood that bordered the 17th Street canal.

"This is known as Bucktown," said Annie. "Hulie's going to try to get in the back way."

When they reached the Bucktown bridge that crossed the canal a military guard waved them through without stopping.

"Isn't that typical?" said Annie. "Nobody knows what's really going on around here."

Peggy was not prepared for the sight that greeted her when they crossed the canal into Lakeview. If Metairie and Kenner had seemed like the edge of a war zone, this was ground zero.

The streets and sidewalks were covered with dried, cracked mud. There was not a blade of grass in sight. The entire place had one color: brown. It looked to Peggy like someone had drained a lake and uncovered an ancient civilization at the bottom of it.

The houses were muddy up to a point just above the doorway. Peggy was shocked to realize what this meant: the water had risen to the ceilings in these homes.



House after house, submerged. Lawns and gardens, dead.



They rode in silence, too stunned to speak. The streets were empty except for one or two recovery crews. No one paid any attention to them as they slowly rounded a corner and headed toward Jeanette's house.

Peggy had the sensation that they should not be there. City officials were right to keep people out, she thought. It was not inhabitable.



Jeanette's house was like the others. Front door spray-painted with orange hieroglyphics, a dirty line above the door indicating the high water mark.

With an air of resignation, Jeanette donned her yellow gloves and approached the house.



She peeked through a broken window and then pushed hard on the door to get it to budge. She stepped into the place that had been her home.



As Peggy followed the others she felt something squishy beneath her boots. She was sickened to realize that, under the dead leaves and tree branches, the yard was coated with a thick layer of black sludge. She tried not to think of exactly what it contained, but she knew it was indistinguishable from sewage.

The moment she peeked into the front door Peggy realized that she had never seen a house that had been submerged in water. It looked as though the contents had floated, and then simply fell into a pile in the middle of the room when the water drained out. All the furniture was turned over and covered with mud: a television, a futon, a cabinet with doors, a wet pile of blankets and pillows. On top of the television rested a few pots and pans from the kitchen.

Annie pointed to a ceiling light fixture caked with mud. "That used to be white."



In the kitchen the refrigerator rested sideways on the table. The sink and countertops were covered with slime. The floor had two inches of mud on it.



Peggy heard Jeanette cry out from a back room. The attic door was hanging open and she had spotted a couple of boxes that appeared to be okay. Raoul fetched them from the attic and handed them to Peggy, who passed them through the window to Fran. Later, when they were all outside, Jeanette removed her gloves and opened a box. It contained Christmas decorations. She laughed and cried at the same time. "My husband never liked these ornaments, but I loved them because they were so corny, so typical of New Orleans."

Peggy walked around the house into the backyard. It was dead and brown. On the back porch was a layer of dried, cracked mud. Two giant trees were uprooted. A garden that she guessed once contained lush greenery was now dead and brown.



In the end, Jeanette had no interest in removing anything else from the house. "As far as I'm concerned they can bulldoze it," she said, holding the box of ornaments tightly. Peggy detected, not sadness, but relief. Jeanette no longer had to wonder about her house. She knew. It was gone. A phase of her life, one that included a mother and a house, had come to an abrupt end.

They left Lakeview. They had seen enough. Peggy felt a headache coming on. She drank water and detected the stench of Jeanette's house lingering in her clothes and hair.

On the way back to Annie's, Hulie led them on a detour to a farm stand in St. Rose, down River Road, west of New Orleans.



"I heard he had opened back up," said Hulie. "We need a return to normal around here."

Peggy stood with Fran and looked at the long green levee that ran between River Road and the Mississippi River. A fresh breeze touched their faces.

"There. Feel that?" said Fran. "That balmy breeze. That smell of flowers and moisture. That's the Louisiana I remember. It's still here."

1 Comments:

At 8:19 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh dear, Bill,
What a time ...you give a most graphic picture of it all. Hard to comprehend, nonetheless. Don't get attached to material things, as my dear mother was wont to say...

 

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