SEPTEMBER 2005 ARCHIVES
September 28, 2005--
Wow, it has been a long time. I did finally get the theatre done and I did-just about as soon as I wrote I lost it-find my
camera, though now the screen is screwed up for some reason. So, it's a bit more like a regular camera now, point,
shoot, and hope for the best. It's kind of bizarre that after so much time, I have nothing much to report. I've fallen out
of the habit of organizing the events of my life in a way that makes sense here. Bear with me please, as I ease back
into it.
The Automatons update is a good one. Jim and Larry Fessenden brought their trunk of film wares to a Fangoria
convention somewhere (where? I should know...) and were warmly received, especially in regards to the trailer for
"Death to the Automatons" they had put together for the occasion. We are still shooting miniatures now. I say "we"
but Jim and Larree Love have been doing 90% of the work with some a little help from Noah and less from me.
They've done some great stuff; very Castle Greyskull meets "Optimus Prime". Starring Rutger Hauer, which should
go without saying...
Wow, it has been a long time. I did finally get the theatre done and I did-just about as soon as I wrote I lost it-find my
camera, though now the screen is screwed up for some reason. So, it's a bit more like a regular camera now, point,
shoot, and hope for the best. It's kind of bizarre that after so much time, I have nothing much to report. I've fallen out
of the habit of organizing the events of my life in a way that makes sense here. Bear with me please, as I ease back
into it.
The Automatons update is a good one. Jim and Larry Fessenden brought their trunk of film wares to a Fangoria
convention somewhere (where? I should know...) and were warmly received, especially in regards to the trailer for
"Death to the Automatons" they had put together for the occasion. We are still shooting miniatures now. I say "we"
but Jim and Larree Love have been doing 90% of the work with some a little help from Noah and less from me.
They've done some great stuff; very Castle Greyskull meets "Optimus Prime". Starring Rutger Hauer, which should
go without saying...
September 14, 2005-- (12:09 AM)
Well, I've figured it all out and I need to be back at the job site at 4am in order to have everything ready for the volunteer
painters arriving at 9. Of course, I just got back from the job site and am suffering from the waiter/bartender curse of
getting home late still revved up from a balls-to-the-wall work pace. Tommorow...oh, I'm sorry...today...is going to be
interesting...
Ahhhh, the theatah......
And yes, for those of you bored to tears by the layout, I have indeed officially lost my nifty digital camera.
Well, I've figured it all out and I need to be back at the job site at 4am in order to have everything ready for the volunteer
painters arriving at 9. Of course, I just got back from the job site and am suffering from the waiter/bartender curse of
getting home late still revved up from a balls-to-the-wall work pace. Tommorow...oh, I'm sorry...today...is going to be
interesting...
Ahhhh, the theatah......
And yes, for those of you bored to tears by the layout, I have indeed officially lost my nifty digital camera.
September 12th, 2005--
You would think that just because you are doing a job inside a theatre, you wouldn't necessarily end up working
your flipping ass off to make a deadline. But of course not. Here's the basic problem; I took this job at the last
minute because The Manhattan Children's Theatre had someone back out of building the risers for their new
space 4 weeks before they are supposed to open the premiere show in their new theatre...SO...the two people I
was counting on to help me are unavailable and I've got other jobs I need to keep moving forward with a few hours
here, a few there during the week.
The end result is that I have been working like an f-ing madman for the past ten days, except yesterday when I
flopped on the couch for 12 hours of football, sensing the muscles of my back and neck were about to go into full
revolt. Yesterday helped a lot, even if i did finish last in my own goddamn football pool and I felt a ton better today
and this is exactly the kind of thing that makes blogs so goddamn boring it makes you want to strangle yourself with
your Ethernet cable or shove that little wi-fi antennae down an eye socket and into a sinus cavity...
Luckily I am too beat to go further, I apologize that my friends have not had the simple decency to be involved in any
more disasters and send me emails about them. The selfishness...really...
You would think that just because you are doing a job inside a theatre, you wouldn't necessarily end up working
your flipping ass off to make a deadline. But of course not. Here's the basic problem; I took this job at the last
minute because The Manhattan Children's Theatre had someone back out of building the risers for their new
space 4 weeks before they are supposed to open the premiere show in their new theatre...SO...the two people I
was counting on to help me are unavailable and I've got other jobs I need to keep moving forward with a few hours
here, a few there during the week.
The end result is that I have been working like an f-ing madman for the past ten days, except yesterday when I
flopped on the couch for 12 hours of football, sensing the muscles of my back and neck were about to go into full
revolt. Yesterday helped a lot, even if i did finish last in my own goddamn football pool and I felt a ton better today
and this is exactly the kind of thing that makes blogs so goddamn boring it makes you want to strangle yourself with
your Ethernet cable or shove that little wi-fi antennae down an eye socket and into a sinus cavity...
Luckily I am too beat to go further, I apologize that my friends have not had the simple decency to be involved in any
more disasters and send me emails about them. The selfishness...really...
September 10, 2005--
Well it looks like they are going to waive the "prevailing wage" laws for the big contractors doing the cleanup and
rebuilding on the Gulf Coast. That's nice. The prevailing wage in LA is $22.00/hr for an electrician and $12/hr for a
painter. God knows it would be terrible for Halliburton to have to pay people the princely sum of $12/hr.
When I was in Alaska, people spoke of the Spillionaires, the people who were in the right position at the right time to
funnel some of the millions of dollars in Exxon Valdez oil spill recovery money into their pockets. People who rented
their old pickup trucks to Exxon to haul sludge or oil-soaked animals for $1000 a day. And that was a private company
writing those checks. The orgy of overcharging excess that is about to take place will be unprecedented outside of
wartime, I imagine.
What do you think the odds are that the people displaced will share in the coming boom? Yeah, I agree, which is too
bad. To me this presents a real opportunity. They say the drying out, demolishing and cleaning up phase will take
three to 6 months at least. In that amount of time, the people living in shelters could complete quite a bit of technical
training in the myriad of trades that will be required for the rebuilding phase. Let these people rebuild their own city.
Then at the end of 5 years you have a city and a new population of working class people with mobile skills. Just a
thought.
Speaking of Halliburton, that company getting BILLIONS of taxpayer dollars without oversight in Iraq, where were those
news stories? You know the ones; "Here we see a convoy of Hallibuton dump trucks, bulldozers and cranes on their
way to help repair the levees and dig people out. Halliburton has pledged X million dollars in cash and equipment for
the relief effort."
I saw the WalMart trucks, I saw the Papa John's mobile pizza making trucks. They don't have multi-billion dollar
government contracts... Hmmm...
This is going to get more disgusting before it gets better, and the Gulf Coast is going to start looking more and more
like Iraq. Fat Cats and Humvees.
Just got what will probably be the last of the Gina Chronicles (as someone who wrote me called them) for a while:
Greetings everyone-
Just wanted to send a note out before I leave for Ohio. I have been alternately crying and laughing over the past day.
Here at my parents' house, we are full-up with journalists...which has given us a unique perspective on the past 2
weeks. We have shared our stories of going into the city. There are two guys here from Oregon who spent a week
camping outside of Bywater Hospital. I know that everyone has been changed by their experiences...and this is why it
is so hard for me to leave, and travel all the way to Ohio. I am hoping that Charity will be up and running by the spring.
It would mean so much to be able to graduate there.
At the same time, I know that in some ways, I have to get on with my life. Yesterday, on very short notice, I was able to
get back into the city to nail up the missing door on my apartment. We travelled all over the city and made it all the way
out to Chalmette. I am not ready to talk about all the things that I saw...as its just not right. This is just not supposed
to happen. But I can say, that it became a reality for me how long it is going to take to rebuild the city. True, Uptown is
fine, the French Quarter looks okay. But that is not that is all that is New Orleans. The backbone of the city...the East,
the 9th Ward, Gentilly, the 7th Ward...all the places that were home to the people who worked their asses off to keep
our city alive. All those are now awash in flood waters that I hesitate to even call "water". There is a tremendous
amount of toxic material in the water. A couple hours in Chalmette left me with a headache that wouldn't go away,as
we trudged through the oil that has leaked all over the place. There were two rescue dogs that had come a few days
ago from Oregon. They accidentally drank some of the water standing on St. Claude...and were dead within a half
hour. I have people at my house that were eye-witness to this happening.
So it is hard to leave all this. But I know that I will be back as soon as I can. And I will be part of rebuilding my city. And
I will hold our government accountable for what they have not done, and what they are yet to do. We have to make New
Orleans great again. And the only way that we do that is to be honest about what is wrong. We have to deal with the
issue of race...no matter how uncomfortable it makes us. Comfort is a weird thing. We ALL want to be comfortable.
But if we skirt around issues that make us uncomfortable, we are not only failing to address the real problems, we are
continuing to add to the DIScomfort of a large percentage of our population. If we are all "New Orleanians" then we
have to start acting like our humanity is tied to one another.
Okay, enough of that. Please all of you....keep in touch. I will send my address shortly. I love you all and want to thank
you for your support during this. I promise, promise to catch up with each of you soon.
Much love,
Gina
Well it looks like they are going to waive the "prevailing wage" laws for the big contractors doing the cleanup and
rebuilding on the Gulf Coast. That's nice. The prevailing wage in LA is $22.00/hr for an electrician and $12/hr for a
painter. God knows it would be terrible for Halliburton to have to pay people the princely sum of $12/hr.
When I was in Alaska, people spoke of the Spillionaires, the people who were in the right position at the right time to
funnel some of the millions of dollars in Exxon Valdez oil spill recovery money into their pockets. People who rented
their old pickup trucks to Exxon to haul sludge or oil-soaked animals for $1000 a day. And that was a private company
writing those checks. The orgy of overcharging excess that is about to take place will be unprecedented outside of
wartime, I imagine.
What do you think the odds are that the people displaced will share in the coming boom? Yeah, I agree, which is too
bad. To me this presents a real opportunity. They say the drying out, demolishing and cleaning up phase will take
three to 6 months at least. In that amount of time, the people living in shelters could complete quite a bit of technical
training in the myriad of trades that will be required for the rebuilding phase. Let these people rebuild their own city.
Then at the end of 5 years you have a city and a new population of working class people with mobile skills. Just a
thought.
Speaking of Halliburton, that company getting BILLIONS of taxpayer dollars without oversight in Iraq, where were those
news stories? You know the ones; "Here we see a convoy of Hallibuton dump trucks, bulldozers and cranes on their
way to help repair the levees and dig people out. Halliburton has pledged X million dollars in cash and equipment for
the relief effort."
I saw the WalMart trucks, I saw the Papa John's mobile pizza making trucks. They don't have multi-billion dollar
government contracts... Hmmm...
This is going to get more disgusting before it gets better, and the Gulf Coast is going to start looking more and more
like Iraq. Fat Cats and Humvees.
Just got what will probably be the last of the Gina Chronicles (as someone who wrote me called them) for a while:
Greetings everyone-
Just wanted to send a note out before I leave for Ohio. I have been alternately crying and laughing over the past day.
Here at my parents' house, we are full-up with journalists...which has given us a unique perspective on the past 2
weeks. We have shared our stories of going into the city. There are two guys here from Oregon who spent a week
camping outside of Bywater Hospital. I know that everyone has been changed by their experiences...and this is why it
is so hard for me to leave, and travel all the way to Ohio. I am hoping that Charity will be up and running by the spring.
It would mean so much to be able to graduate there.
At the same time, I know that in some ways, I have to get on with my life. Yesterday, on very short notice, I was able to
get back into the city to nail up the missing door on my apartment. We travelled all over the city and made it all the way
out to Chalmette. I am not ready to talk about all the things that I saw...as its just not right. This is just not supposed
to happen. But I can say, that it became a reality for me how long it is going to take to rebuild the city. True, Uptown is
fine, the French Quarter looks okay. But that is not that is all that is New Orleans. The backbone of the city...the East,
the 9th Ward, Gentilly, the 7th Ward...all the places that were home to the people who worked their asses off to keep
our city alive. All those are now awash in flood waters that I hesitate to even call "water". There is a tremendous
amount of toxic material in the water. A couple hours in Chalmette left me with a headache that wouldn't go away,as
we trudged through the oil that has leaked all over the place. There were two rescue dogs that had come a few days
ago from Oregon. They accidentally drank some of the water standing on St. Claude...and were dead within a half
hour. I have people at my house that were eye-witness to this happening.
So it is hard to leave all this. But I know that I will be back as soon as I can. And I will be part of rebuilding my city. And
I will hold our government accountable for what they have not done, and what they are yet to do. We have to make New
Orleans great again. And the only way that we do that is to be honest about what is wrong. We have to deal with the
issue of race...no matter how uncomfortable it makes us. Comfort is a weird thing. We ALL want to be comfortable.
But if we skirt around issues that make us uncomfortable, we are not only failing to address the real problems, we are
continuing to add to the DIScomfort of a large percentage of our population. If we are all "New Orleanians" then we
have to start acting like our humanity is tied to one another.
Okay, enough of that. Please all of you....keep in touch. I will send my address shortly. I love you all and want to thank
you for your support during this. I promise, promise to catch up with each of you soon.
Much love,
Gina
September 8th, 2005--
What can I tell you? All I have been doing is working on the Manhattan Children's Theatre risers and getting
absolutely way too hammered at the Automatons Wrap Party. And I've lost my camera somewhere during the past
few weeks, so I don't even have any photos to show you. Meanwhile i keep receiving riveting emails from my former
fellow flag football follower, GIna. Here are a couple more. The first was from a couple days ago, the next with the
pictures from today. Notice some of the changes...
Update 9/6/05
Finally a day off!
But of course, here I am up at 5:30am. Michelle Krups, one of our reporters, stayed here last night. She flew in
yesterday from Chicago, as she had been away for all of this. She got up at 4:30am to drive into Marrero to cover a
story. Jan was up at 1am to be at work for 2am driving trucks of food into the FEMA people at Zephyr Field. And my
mom and I are bringing my dad to the airport. Lucky him is going to Italy for 3 weeks. Then I have to go and meet
with Southern Univ. and Southeastern Univ. nursing schools. I am sure that will take all day. We also have Sean
Gardner, one the TP photographers staying here. Marie's dad and brother arrive tomorrow.
Tomorrow I am riding into New Orleans with some people from the paper. Some folks went in yesterday and found
their houses water-damaged and ransacked. Amazing how the attitude about all that refuses to be negative. When
I asked one guy how he felt about it, he said, "They didn't take anything, just were looking for things they could use.
They left the painting of my grandfather untouched...so I'm fine with it. What do we expect?"
When I found out that my house was safe as of yesterday, a wave of guilt washed over me as I thought of all the
things in my apartment that could have been useful to someone's survival: a pocket knife, my bike, bottled water,
clothing, shoes. Not much food...but a bottle of Cuban rum...that could have at least made the situation a little less
tense. So as I prepare to get down there tomorrow, our task in hand is this: rescue people if we find them.....grab
what you can...the things you should have brought with you...had you known. And to secure the houses of others
who weren't so fortunate. Rescue a pet of someone who has been waiting. The list goes on and on. I want to get
the bottled water out of my apartment and give it to someone who needs it.
A lot of you have been asking me how you can help. If you are asking in a broad way...the answer is any way you
can. New Orleans is going to need help for a long time. There are programs all over the place that need your
support. I hope to get a list compiled of organizations that I can check out. If you are asking in a specific way....as far
as I am concerned. I don't need help. There are organizations that are near and dear to my heart....such as The
People's Institute for Survival and Beyond, whom many of you know I worked for for several years. Their offices in
New Orleans East are submerged in water and will have to relocate. There's is a mission that I truly believe in, and I
believe that they have a crucial role in the rebuilding of New Orleans. And I mean rebuilding it in a way that is more
equitable. You can visit their new website at www.pisab.org make a donation if you are so moved. Or you can
donate your time...if you are a doctor or nurse, or mental health specialist...please contact your local agencies and
identify yourself as a New Orleanian. I know that many evacuees are far flung...and it would be so wonderful for
them to be recieving help from people who understand their city and their culture.
So....no more e-mails until I get back Thursday (unless something totally amazing happens that I have to tell
everyone about in hurry).
I miss you all. Please take care!
Much love,
Gina
Update 9/8/05
Well, I made it into New Orleans yesterday. I made the trip with photographer Michael DeMocker and my editor
Dinah Rogers. We took off from my parents' house in the rental car the Michael had gotten before the storm...he
covered the storm in Biloxi...hence the blown out back window (see picture entitled ride.jpg).
What can I tell you? All I have been doing is working on the Manhattan Children's Theatre risers and getting
absolutely way too hammered at the Automatons Wrap Party. And I've lost my camera somewhere during the past
few weeks, so I don't even have any photos to show you. Meanwhile i keep receiving riveting emails from my former
fellow flag football follower, GIna. Here are a couple more. The first was from a couple days ago, the next with the
pictures from today. Notice some of the changes...
Update 9/6/05
Finally a day off!
But of course, here I am up at 5:30am. Michelle Krups, one of our reporters, stayed here last night. She flew in
yesterday from Chicago, as she had been away for all of this. She got up at 4:30am to drive into Marrero to cover a
story. Jan was up at 1am to be at work for 2am driving trucks of food into the FEMA people at Zephyr Field. And my
mom and I are bringing my dad to the airport. Lucky him is going to Italy for 3 weeks. Then I have to go and meet
with Southern Univ. and Southeastern Univ. nursing schools. I am sure that will take all day. We also have Sean
Gardner, one the TP photographers staying here. Marie's dad and brother arrive tomorrow.
Tomorrow I am riding into New Orleans with some people from the paper. Some folks went in yesterday and found
their houses water-damaged and ransacked. Amazing how the attitude about all that refuses to be negative. When
I asked one guy how he felt about it, he said, "They didn't take anything, just were looking for things they could use.
They left the painting of my grandfather untouched...so I'm fine with it. What do we expect?"
When I found out that my house was safe as of yesterday, a wave of guilt washed over me as I thought of all the
things in my apartment that could have been useful to someone's survival: a pocket knife, my bike, bottled water,
clothing, shoes. Not much food...but a bottle of Cuban rum...that could have at least made the situation a little less
tense. So as I prepare to get down there tomorrow, our task in hand is this: rescue people if we find them.....grab
what you can...the things you should have brought with you...had you known. And to secure the houses of others
who weren't so fortunate. Rescue a pet of someone who has been waiting. The list goes on and on. I want to get
the bottled water out of my apartment and give it to someone who needs it.
A lot of you have been asking me how you can help. If you are asking in a broad way...the answer is any way you
can. New Orleans is going to need help for a long time. There are programs all over the place that need your
support. I hope to get a list compiled of organizations that I can check out. If you are asking in a specific way....as far
as I am concerned. I don't need help. There are organizations that are near and dear to my heart....such as The
People's Institute for Survival and Beyond, whom many of you know I worked for for several years. Their offices in
New Orleans East are submerged in water and will have to relocate. There's is a mission that I truly believe in, and I
believe that they have a crucial role in the rebuilding of New Orleans. And I mean rebuilding it in a way that is more
equitable. You can visit their new website at www.pisab.org make a donation if you are so moved. Or you can
donate your time...if you are a doctor or nurse, or mental health specialist...please contact your local agencies and
identify yourself as a New Orleanian. I know that many evacuees are far flung...and it would be so wonderful for
them to be recieving help from people who understand their city and their culture.
So....no more e-mails until I get back Thursday (unless something totally amazing happens that I have to tell
everyone about in hurry).
I miss you all. Please take care!
Much love,
Gina
Update 9/8/05
Well, I made it into New Orleans yesterday. I made the trip with photographer Michael DeMocker and my editor
Dinah Rogers. We took off from my parents' house in the rental car the Michael had gotten before the storm...he
covered the storm in Biloxi...hence the blown out back window (see picture entitled ride.jpg).
We got stuck in a lot of the traffic from the people returning to Jefferson Parish, but rode the shoulder with other press
and emergency vehicles. We made our way to near the airport, where Dinah's sister had a horse barn...which is now
barely standing (all the horses made it out safely). On I-10, we had to get off at Causeway, as the interstate is
flooded. We passed massive trucks that were removing literally TONS of garbage from Causeway and i-10, where
all those people had been waiting to be picked up. It was so depressing, and my stomach was literally in knots at
this point. We continued down Causeway and stopped where it crosses over Airline (see pic entitled airline.jpg).
and emergency vehicles. We made our way to near the airport, where Dinah's sister had a horse barn...which is now
barely standing (all the horses made it out safely). On I-10, we had to get off at Causeway, as the interstate is
flooded. We passed massive trucks that were removing literally TONS of garbage from Causeway and i-10, where
all those people had been waiting to be picked up. It was so depressing, and my stomach was literally in knots at
this point. We continued down Causeway and stopped where it crosses over Airline (see pic entitled airline.jpg).
Airline heading toward New Orleans is underwater. I was told that just the day before it had been flooded in both
directions, but yesterday, it was clear on the Jeff. Parish side. We had to take River Road into New Orleans, and at the
parish line, it was full of National Guard...weapons drawn. They were checking credentials, and there must have been
about 40 cars lined up...only 4 of us got through. They are not messing around. If you are not supposed to be there, there
ain't no way you are getting through. We made our way down Magazine Street and Audubon Park is now and armed
military camp. There were ALOT of trees down in the park (see pic: audubon.jpg).
directions, but yesterday, it was clear on the Jeff. Parish side. We had to take River Road into New Orleans, and at the
parish line, it was full of National Guard...weapons drawn. They were checking credentials, and there must have been
about 40 cars lined up...only 4 of us got through. They are not messing around. If you are not supposed to be there, there
ain't no way you are getting through. We made our way down Magazine Street and Audubon Park is now and armed
military camp. There were ALOT of trees down in the park (see pic: audubon.jpg).
We got ot my apartment first on Jefferson and Magazine. No wind or water damage. I had a bag to fill with essentials...and had
about 5 minutes to grab what I could (armed National Guard are going door-to-door trying to get people to leave....however, I saw
no one being forcibly removed, and they were actually very nice to us and other people we saw ont he street). Inside my
apartment, I found that my backdoor had been ripped off by someone. This is a new occurrance, as my landlord had been there
the day before and it wasn't liket that. Nothing was missing, so I just got what I could and said goodbye to the rest.
Next we went to Dinah's house. While she was inside, Michael and I saw some kittens stuck inside a house. They were
emaciated and crying. I couldn't stand seeing their frantic faces as they climbed the burglar bars in an attempt to get out, only to
fall 10 feet to the floor. So we got a rbick and broke the window out. I put the kittens in the pet carrier that I was using to rescue
Queta and Grant's cats. We then went to the Garden District where Barret's dog Fletch was. Had to go down 8th street (see
photo) and drive under a downed tree.
about 5 minutes to grab what I could (armed National Guard are going door-to-door trying to get people to leave....however, I saw
no one being forcibly removed, and they were actually very nice to us and other people we saw ont he street). Inside my
apartment, I found that my backdoor had been ripped off by someone. This is a new occurrance, as my landlord had been there
the day before and it wasn't liket that. Nothing was missing, so I just got what I could and said goodbye to the rest.
Next we went to Dinah's house. While she was inside, Michael and I saw some kittens stuck inside a house. They were
emaciated and crying. I couldn't stand seeing their frantic faces as they climbed the burglar bars in an attempt to get out, only to
fall 10 feet to the floor. So we got a rbick and broke the window out. I put the kittens in the pet carrier that I was using to rescue
Queta and Grant's cats. We then went to the Garden District where Barret's dog Fletch was. Had to go down 8th street (see
photo) and drive under a downed tree.
We got Fletch and dropped of the kittens to a woman who has 36 cats and 6 dogs that she has rescued. We gave her two
palates of water and left, with Fletch freaking out in the back seat. Next, we dropped of 5 gallons of gas to our reporters and
then I had to get to Queta and Grant's. Unfortunately their area was flooded.
So I put on my shrimp boots, got the carriers and headed out alone to walk the 7 blocks to their house. Dinah waited in the
car to watch Fletch. I started walking and made it about 2 blocks, when the water came up over my boots and filled them up.
The stentch was awful. I was in water that was mid-thigh high...and it was getting deeper with each step. Realizing I
wouldn't make it there, I just started crying and turned back. Just then, a civilian jeep came up the street with a uniform
Guardsman inside. He said, "God bless you. Are you doing pet rescue?" I explained that the water was too high, and I
couldn't make it. He said, "Hop in" We took off down the street...very slowly. I found out that he was from New Orleans, but
on active duty in Ft. Sam Houston. He dropped everything and came to help. He wasn't even supposed to be there. So we
went another block and the jeep took on too much water. The jeep was starting to die. There were 3 guardsmen in a
humvee behind us. We talked to them, and they indicated the water was much deeper ahead. They were supposed to
secure the area....from Freret to I-10!!!! So SGT. Smith (they jeep guy) drove me back to Freret. I was so distraught over
Queta's cats. He said to leave the address, and he would try to get them the next day if the waters went down. I left the pet
carriers with him and Dinah and I headed toward downtown. We made it to my old apartment on St. Andrew near magazine
(right near Juan's Flying Burrito). The two buildings directly across the street burned to the ground (see pic st.andrew).
palates of water and left, with Fletch freaking out in the back seat. Next, we dropped of 5 gallons of gas to our reporters and
then I had to get to Queta and Grant's. Unfortunately their area was flooded.
So I put on my shrimp boots, got the carriers and headed out alone to walk the 7 blocks to their house. Dinah waited in the
car to watch Fletch. I started walking and made it about 2 blocks, when the water came up over my boots and filled them up.
The stentch was awful. I was in water that was mid-thigh high...and it was getting deeper with each step. Realizing I
wouldn't make it there, I just started crying and turned back. Just then, a civilian jeep came up the street with a uniform
Guardsman inside. He said, "God bless you. Are you doing pet rescue?" I explained that the water was too high, and I
couldn't make it. He said, "Hop in" We took off down the street...very slowly. I found out that he was from New Orleans, but
on active duty in Ft. Sam Houston. He dropped everything and came to help. He wasn't even supposed to be there. So we
went another block and the jeep took on too much water. The jeep was starting to die. There were 3 guardsmen in a
humvee behind us. We talked to them, and they indicated the water was much deeper ahead. They were supposed to
secure the area....from Freret to I-10!!!! So SGT. Smith (they jeep guy) drove me back to Freret. I was so distraught over
Queta's cats. He said to leave the address, and he would try to get them the next day if the waters went down. I left the pet
carriers with him and Dinah and I headed toward downtown. We made it to my old apartment on St. Andrew near magazine
(right near Juan's Flying Burrito). The two buildings directly across the street burned to the ground (see pic st.andrew).
I got into the apartment (where Jan, my ex still lives) and took pictures for him...as the building was wide open). At this point,
I had had enough and was ready to go. So we headed on I-10 out of town.
We were on the raised highway toward Laplace, when a car accident happened. I got out to help the people in the car.
Before I knew it, the interstate was closed and they were landing helicopters on the interstate.
I had had enough and was ready to go. So we headed on I-10 out of town.
We were on the raised highway toward Laplace, when a car accident happened. I got out to help the people in the car.
Before I knew it, the interstate was closed and they were landing helicopters on the interstate.
Meanwhile, Michael DeMocker, the photographer called to say that he had secured a canoe and a laundry basket and was
going to try and get Queta and Grant's cats. About 10 minutes later, he called back to say that when he got there, SGT.
Smith was already there, wading through chest-deep water, with a shotgun over one shoulder, pushing a plastic tub with
the cats in it!
So, we got back to my parents' house....Michael, who is allergic to cats, drove all the way back with the two cats loose
under his seat (his eyes were nearly swollen shut by the time he arrived. Queta and Grant were reunited with their cats
last night!!! You can go to nola.com to see pictures of the rescue (they are under "today's photos" then click on "uptown
flooding"
So....that was my day! I left out many,many details...that I will fill in later.
And an update on me...I am moving on Sunday to Cincinnati, Ohio. Miami University is taking me into their nursing
program and I start classes on Monday. They have secured a car, books, uniforms...and they are not charging tuition! A
major blessing in this time.
I will be in touch from afar.
I hope all of you are well.
Take care,
Gina
going to try and get Queta and Grant's cats. About 10 minutes later, he called back to say that when he got there, SGT.
Smith was already there, wading through chest-deep water, with a shotgun over one shoulder, pushing a plastic tub with
the cats in it!
So, we got back to my parents' house....Michael, who is allergic to cats, drove all the way back with the two cats loose
under his seat (his eyes were nearly swollen shut by the time he arrived. Queta and Grant were reunited with their cats
last night!!! You can go to nola.com to see pictures of the rescue (they are under "today's photos" then click on "uptown
flooding"
So....that was my day! I left out many,many details...that I will fill in later.
And an update on me...I am moving on Sunday to Cincinnati, Ohio. Miami University is taking me into their nursing
program and I start classes on Monday. They have secured a car, books, uniforms...and they are not charging tuition! A
major blessing in this time.
I will be in touch from afar.
I hope all of you are well.
Take care,
Gina
September 6, 2005--
Yes, this is officially turning into the Gina Blog, but I think her position as a New Orleans resident working behind
the scenes at the TImes-Picayune Newspaper in Exile has given her email updates a unique perspective not
represented in the normal media and I think it is an important one. Here is her Update from Sunday:
Hey ya'll-
Just finished all the photos for the day. It was a major endeavor. I am thankful that today I had my co-pilot in the
lab, Joseph Graham. He was not able to work the past few days because he was trying to locate his wife and
10-year old son. Yesterday they were found, alive and well in Houma, LA. He went down to visit with them and
then came back the same night, ready to work today. I am BLOWN away by my co-workers. I couldn't be more
proud of the job we have done.
This morning, Jeff Rouse was able to get into the city with one of our photographers. He is a psychiatrist with the
coroner's office. He is going to try and do some much-needed intervention with the NOPD...keeping those guys
from losing their minds. Fortunately, there are mental health services for the evacuees once they get out. But
there were NONE for the people doing the evacuating. I think Jeff is going to do it single-handed. What an
AMAZING guy he is. Did I mention before how proud I am of all my people.
And I am so proud of the citizens of New Orleans. While I am much aware of the way we have been portrayed in
the national press....I know that there are people on the ground that had to break into stores to get food, clothing
and supplies to SURVIVE. These same people were also handing out food in shopping carts to others that were
stranded. Yes, there is a criminal element in New Orleans. There always has been. But that does not define our
city. There were reports of people shooting at helicopters. Some probably were. But the vast majority were likely
shooting into the air to get the attention of the helicopters. The resilience of the people of New Orleans is
amazing. Their strength and will to survive blows me away. I know that we have a lot of healing to do.
The truth of the matter is, there has always been a tremendous disparity in New Orleans between Black and
White. This hurricane has highlighted that more than ever. I hope that this disparity can be part of the healing
process.
And on a final note, I have to just reiterate how much I love New Orleans. This is the first city that has felt like home
to me. Since I moved to Louisiana at the age of 15, I have absorbed this culture. In the 11 years that New Orleans
has been home, I have come to live my life the New Orleans way. And I honestly don't think the rest of the country
understands what that is. As one of my co-workers said, "New Orleans culture is not transportable." I can't move
anywhere else on the planet and bring it with me. This is part of why all of us who call it home are so torn up by
this catastrophe. But at the same time, I feel the support of the rest of the country...in the form of your e-mails and
phonecalls and text messages.
And now for some good news: Barret's dad was rescued from a refugee camp in Dallas. His dog Fletch was
rescued by a total stranger inside New Orleans. I hope to be able to report more good news as the days go by.
I miss all of you immensely.
--I would only add to what she wrote a small notice of how immensely proud I am of the people of Houston. I was
surprised when I heard people up here doubting the size of people's hearts in Texas and/or the scope of what
Texans and Houstonians in particular would be prepared to do to help the victims of Katrina. I can only surmise
that a few bad apples have ruined it for everyone in the state. Sure, those apples have jobs in the White House,
but still...
I was not surprised at all, having lived down there for a few years. Houston was the perfect city to be closest to the
victims. It is big enough to help and lacks the self-important attitude of Dallas or Austin. The attitude wont matter
now, but in a month or two Dallas and Austin will be over all this and impatiently waiting to get back to the Really
Important Business of being Dallas and being Austin. Houston has no such pretensions and is therefore a far
better place to land.
I had to start my life over in Houston once and I can tell you there just cannot be a better place to undertake such a
difficult task. It's relatively inexpensive, there is a decent amount of work, and whatever scene you are into, they
each refuse to take themselves seriously enough to be unfriendly or intimidating. Houston is the Ugly Duckling of
Texas cities, a city of people just trying to live their lives and raise their families, two goals which until last week
really didn't seem like luxuries.
Yes, this is officially turning into the Gina Blog, but I think her position as a New Orleans resident working behind
the scenes at the TImes-Picayune Newspaper in Exile has given her email updates a unique perspective not
represented in the normal media and I think it is an important one. Here is her Update from Sunday:
Hey ya'll-
Just finished all the photos for the day. It was a major endeavor. I am thankful that today I had my co-pilot in the
lab, Joseph Graham. He was not able to work the past few days because he was trying to locate his wife and
10-year old son. Yesterday they were found, alive and well in Houma, LA. He went down to visit with them and
then came back the same night, ready to work today. I am BLOWN away by my co-workers. I couldn't be more
proud of the job we have done.
This morning, Jeff Rouse was able to get into the city with one of our photographers. He is a psychiatrist with the
coroner's office. He is going to try and do some much-needed intervention with the NOPD...keeping those guys
from losing their minds. Fortunately, there are mental health services for the evacuees once they get out. But
there were NONE for the people doing the evacuating. I think Jeff is going to do it single-handed. What an
AMAZING guy he is. Did I mention before how proud I am of all my people.
And I am so proud of the citizens of New Orleans. While I am much aware of the way we have been portrayed in
the national press....I know that there are people on the ground that had to break into stores to get food, clothing
and supplies to SURVIVE. These same people were also handing out food in shopping carts to others that were
stranded. Yes, there is a criminal element in New Orleans. There always has been. But that does not define our
city. There were reports of people shooting at helicopters. Some probably were. But the vast majority were likely
shooting into the air to get the attention of the helicopters. The resilience of the people of New Orleans is
amazing. Their strength and will to survive blows me away. I know that we have a lot of healing to do.
The truth of the matter is, there has always been a tremendous disparity in New Orleans between Black and
White. This hurricane has highlighted that more than ever. I hope that this disparity can be part of the healing
process.
And on a final note, I have to just reiterate how much I love New Orleans. This is the first city that has felt like home
to me. Since I moved to Louisiana at the age of 15, I have absorbed this culture. In the 11 years that New Orleans
has been home, I have come to live my life the New Orleans way. And I honestly don't think the rest of the country
understands what that is. As one of my co-workers said, "New Orleans culture is not transportable." I can't move
anywhere else on the planet and bring it with me. This is part of why all of us who call it home are so torn up by
this catastrophe. But at the same time, I feel the support of the rest of the country...in the form of your e-mails and
phonecalls and text messages.
And now for some good news: Barret's dad was rescued from a refugee camp in Dallas. His dog Fletch was
rescued by a total stranger inside New Orleans. I hope to be able to report more good news as the days go by.
I miss all of you immensely.
--I would only add to what she wrote a small notice of how immensely proud I am of the people of Houston. I was
surprised when I heard people up here doubting the size of people's hearts in Texas and/or the scope of what
Texans and Houstonians in particular would be prepared to do to help the victims of Katrina. I can only surmise
that a few bad apples have ruined it for everyone in the state. Sure, those apples have jobs in the White House,
but still...
I was not surprised at all, having lived down there for a few years. Houston was the perfect city to be closest to the
victims. It is big enough to help and lacks the self-important attitude of Dallas or Austin. The attitude wont matter
now, but in a month or two Dallas and Austin will be over all this and impatiently waiting to get back to the Really
Important Business of being Dallas and being Austin. Houston has no such pretensions and is therefore a far
better place to land.
I had to start my life over in Houston once and I can tell you there just cannot be a better place to undertake such a
difficult task. It's relatively inexpensive, there is a decent amount of work, and whatever scene you are into, they
each refuse to take themselves seriously enough to be unfriendly or intimidating. Houston is the Ugly Duckling of
Texas cities, a city of people just trying to live their lives and raise their families, two goals which until last week
really didn't seem like luxuries.
September 4, 2005--
Another day where nothing I have to say really seems important enough to write down. I started the initial cutting
and assembly of the risers I'm building for the Manhattan Children's Theatre today, cut out after 6 hours and am
headed to a barbecue. I had fun wrestling plywood and 2x4's around, listening to NPR and the horrors others are
going through the whole time. I usually enjoy my job and will have too much to eat tonight. Damn lucky.
None of which makes for very interesting or worthwhile blogging. Luckily I've got a ringer...Gina sent me another
email from Baton Rouge and judging from the response I got the last time I posted her email here, she is writing
things people want to read. So again, without her permission, here's Gina, writing yesterday, September 3rd:
Hey ya'll-
Today I feel like everything took a turn. I hesitate to say it took a turn for the better, but it feels that way. When I left
work today, I was trying to get some information for Jeff Rouse to get him into New Orleans...and I was talking to our
managing editor. He says there was only ONE report of violence and looting in the past 24 hours. So whatever
national reports you are hearing to the contrary are FALSE!! I breathed a huge sigh of relief. There are of course,
still many, many people waiting to be rescued.
Personally, I feel a whole lot more centered than yesterday. I think my brain blew a gasket yesterday, and today I
feel much better. It may also have to do with the fact that I finally got a full night's sleep last night. My first day off is
going to be Tuesday and Wednesday. I am meeting with Southern University on Tuesday. They are supposedly
going to be able to take me into their nursing program. Thank you to all of you who sent me so much information
on schools all over the place. I was overwhelmed by the many generous offers. Re-evaluating my current mental
state, I think that it is crucial that I stick to as close to home as I can. I simply cannot wrap my mind around moving
far away. Initially, I thought that I would be up for it, but as this has worn on me, I feel like I need to be here.
I am exhausted right now, so this update doesn't have a whole lot of info. Tomorrow I will be able to have more info.
I also want to thank you all for your e-mails. I hope to respond to each of you personally...I am just REALLY low on
time these days. A few a day, and I am getting to each of you!
Bruce- unable to get any info on the westbank other than to tell you that it is in MUCH better shape than the
eastbank. I know that Oakwood Shopping Center burned to the ground yesterday....hope that wasn't near your
property.
I miss all of you and hope that you are all well!
Much love,
Gina
Another day where nothing I have to say really seems important enough to write down. I started the initial cutting
and assembly of the risers I'm building for the Manhattan Children's Theatre today, cut out after 6 hours and am
headed to a barbecue. I had fun wrestling plywood and 2x4's around, listening to NPR and the horrors others are
going through the whole time. I usually enjoy my job and will have too much to eat tonight. Damn lucky.
None of which makes for very interesting or worthwhile blogging. Luckily I've got a ringer...Gina sent me another
email from Baton Rouge and judging from the response I got the last time I posted her email here, she is writing
things people want to read. So again, without her permission, here's Gina, writing yesterday, September 3rd:
Hey ya'll-
Today I feel like everything took a turn. I hesitate to say it took a turn for the better, but it feels that way. When I left
work today, I was trying to get some information for Jeff Rouse to get him into New Orleans...and I was talking to our
managing editor. He says there was only ONE report of violence and looting in the past 24 hours. So whatever
national reports you are hearing to the contrary are FALSE!! I breathed a huge sigh of relief. There are of course,
still many, many people waiting to be rescued.
Personally, I feel a whole lot more centered than yesterday. I think my brain blew a gasket yesterday, and today I
feel much better. It may also have to do with the fact that I finally got a full night's sleep last night. My first day off is
going to be Tuesday and Wednesday. I am meeting with Southern University on Tuesday. They are supposedly
going to be able to take me into their nursing program. Thank you to all of you who sent me so much information
on schools all over the place. I was overwhelmed by the many generous offers. Re-evaluating my current mental
state, I think that it is crucial that I stick to as close to home as I can. I simply cannot wrap my mind around moving
far away. Initially, I thought that I would be up for it, but as this has worn on me, I feel like I need to be here.
I am exhausted right now, so this update doesn't have a whole lot of info. Tomorrow I will be able to have more info.
I also want to thank you all for your e-mails. I hope to respond to each of you personally...I am just REALLY low on
time these days. A few a day, and I am getting to each of you!
Bruce- unable to get any info on the westbank other than to tell you that it is in MUCH better shape than the
eastbank. I know that Oakwood Shopping Center burned to the ground yesterday....hope that wasn't near your
property.
I miss all of you and hope that you are all well!
Much love,
Gina
September 2, 2005--
Shame on us. Shame on our country for what has happened on the Gulf Coast.
I'm not even sure I should get started about it right now because I am so ridiculously furious. I will just lay out
some of what others have said and let you get pissed off yourself. As infuriating as the television images have
been over the past two days, it is the things you don't see, the reports from the photographers and videographers
about the stuff they don't dare show you that really get the blood boiling. Things are worse, far worse than we on
the outside have seen on the screen. I got this email this morning from my friend Gina who until Katrina lived in
New Orleans. The last email I got from her was on Monday night, before the levies broke, when she was upbeat
but lamenting the week or so it would take before she could resume her life. What a difference a few days has
made:
Hey everyone-
DAY TWO at the Times-Picayune. Last night was pretty intense. We busted our asses and put out our first
physical paper since the hurricane. Haven't seen it yet this morning, as it was being printed in Houma. We also
have an extended online version at www.nola.com
Here is what I know as of right now:
Things are rapidly deteriorating in New Orleans. We are now not allowing photographers and reporters on the
ground unless they are embedded with either the police,national guard or other armed unit. The guys that came
back last night were pretty shell-shocked. I did some talking with people and everyone is in agreement that we
need to get some professional help for everyone. Talk about PTSD! We had two people have breakdowns
yesterday. It is really a strange thing to look into the eyes of people you have worked with for years and realize that
something has snapped in them. They are different people. And on top of that...the superhuman effort of everyone
to get news out. We have one reporter who was in Biloxi that we have been searching for for days, with no luck.
Everyone is expecting the worst. In spite of all that, we are operating just about around the clock.
In New Orleans: Photographers are predicting that it is going to be a complete mess at the Convention Center.
Today, they are going to lose a lot of people. I have been processing images that are too gruesome to publish.
Working right now has really helped me to both divert my attention and deal with some of the emotion that I am
feeling.
Jan got a desperate phonecall from our friend Dumas Carter who is an NOPD officer with the 6th district. His
phone cut off before Jan could get his location, but he said that he and 3 other officers were abandoned by their
unit and the Fire Department. They are holed-up in a hotel downtown and have their guns and enough
ammunition to last a couple days....but they are frantic. (speaking of Jan, he is now safe at my parents' house in
Prairieville). Hearing that last night nearly broke me. Dumas is one of those tough-as-nails guys and to hear him
in such a desperate situation ( and Jan said that he sounded like he was a mess) just kills me.
Today we have photographers covering George Bush (more on that in a second) and we have one embedded with
the SWAT team in New Orleans. I spoke with him last night for the first time in a couple days. He seems fine for
now, but I know that he is in work-mode.
Now, here is where I have to editorialize a little. I want to know where in the hell the 5 million meals are. Where is
the water? Where the hell are the troops? Photographers said they didn't see a single National Guardsman on
the streets. One told me that at the staging area on Vets and Causeway has NO food and NO water. I can't
comprehend what the hell our government is doing.... All of our damn guardsmen are in Iraq. I am not going to
get too much into it, because I could go on for days. But suffice it to say, that my feelings are shared by many here
that I am working with.
And for those of you who are far away watching our city spinning out of control, I don't want people to start blaming
the people who didn't evacuate. One thing we have to understand is that not everyone had the resources to get
out. I was fortunate. So many were not. Without cars, without money...it is a near impossibility. And as far as the
escalating violence: I have to defer to one of our photographers here who came out yesterday when he was
saying that we cannot comprehend the level of desperation down there. Paranoia, survival mode....people are
literally starving to death. On top of that, they are seeing that on many levels they are being left behind.
Desperation like that turns a human being. Unfortunately we are not seeing the best side of the city. But trust
me...on the ground there are people working together to keep people alive. Unfortunately, most of the major
networks (and we are guilty of this ourselves) are focusing on the chaos and not seeing the other story.
One last thing is that I want to give a huge SHOUT of thanks to Dr. Jeff Rouse. He is here in Baton Rouge doing
some amazingly important work with people. I spoke with him last night and I can say, he is a saint. You are the
best my friend. (special note to Jeff: Some TP people will most likely be calling you today).
Ok, that is it for now. I hope all of you are well. Thanks for all your e-mails. They have helped (although
sometimes I don't have time to read them when I want to because I am so busy with work).
Much love to you all,
Gina
Shame on us. Shame on our country for what has happened on the Gulf Coast.
I'm not even sure I should get started about it right now because I am so ridiculously furious. I will just lay out
some of what others have said and let you get pissed off yourself. As infuriating as the television images have
been over the past two days, it is the things you don't see, the reports from the photographers and videographers
about the stuff they don't dare show you that really get the blood boiling. Things are worse, far worse than we on
the outside have seen on the screen. I got this email this morning from my friend Gina who until Katrina lived in
New Orleans. The last email I got from her was on Monday night, before the levies broke, when she was upbeat
but lamenting the week or so it would take before she could resume her life. What a difference a few days has
made:
Hey everyone-
DAY TWO at the Times-Picayune. Last night was pretty intense. We busted our asses and put out our first
physical paper since the hurricane. Haven't seen it yet this morning, as it was being printed in Houma. We also
have an extended online version at www.nola.com
Here is what I know as of right now:
Things are rapidly deteriorating in New Orleans. We are now not allowing photographers and reporters on the
ground unless they are embedded with either the police,national guard or other armed unit. The guys that came
back last night were pretty shell-shocked. I did some talking with people and everyone is in agreement that we
need to get some professional help for everyone. Talk about PTSD! We had two people have breakdowns
yesterday. It is really a strange thing to look into the eyes of people you have worked with for years and realize that
something has snapped in them. They are different people. And on top of that...the superhuman effort of everyone
to get news out. We have one reporter who was in Biloxi that we have been searching for for days, with no luck.
Everyone is expecting the worst. In spite of all that, we are operating just about around the clock.
In New Orleans: Photographers are predicting that it is going to be a complete mess at the Convention Center.
Today, they are going to lose a lot of people. I have been processing images that are too gruesome to publish.
Working right now has really helped me to both divert my attention and deal with some of the emotion that I am
feeling.
Jan got a desperate phonecall from our friend Dumas Carter who is an NOPD officer with the 6th district. His
phone cut off before Jan could get his location, but he said that he and 3 other officers were abandoned by their
unit and the Fire Department. They are holed-up in a hotel downtown and have their guns and enough
ammunition to last a couple days....but they are frantic. (speaking of Jan, he is now safe at my parents' house in
Prairieville). Hearing that last night nearly broke me. Dumas is one of those tough-as-nails guys and to hear him
in such a desperate situation ( and Jan said that he sounded like he was a mess) just kills me.
Today we have photographers covering George Bush (more on that in a second) and we have one embedded with
the SWAT team in New Orleans. I spoke with him last night for the first time in a couple days. He seems fine for
now, but I know that he is in work-mode.
Now, here is where I have to editorialize a little. I want to know where in the hell the 5 million meals are. Where is
the water? Where the hell are the troops? Photographers said they didn't see a single National Guardsman on
the streets. One told me that at the staging area on Vets and Causeway has NO food and NO water. I can't
comprehend what the hell our government is doing.... All of our damn guardsmen are in Iraq. I am not going to
get too much into it, because I could go on for days. But suffice it to say, that my feelings are shared by many here
that I am working with.
And for those of you who are far away watching our city spinning out of control, I don't want people to start blaming
the people who didn't evacuate. One thing we have to understand is that not everyone had the resources to get
out. I was fortunate. So many were not. Without cars, without money...it is a near impossibility. And as far as the
escalating violence: I have to defer to one of our photographers here who came out yesterday when he was
saying that we cannot comprehend the level of desperation down there. Paranoia, survival mode....people are
literally starving to death. On top of that, they are seeing that on many levels they are being left behind.
Desperation like that turns a human being. Unfortunately we are not seeing the best side of the city. But trust
me...on the ground there are people working together to keep people alive. Unfortunately, most of the major
networks (and we are guilty of this ourselves) are focusing on the chaos and not seeing the other story.
One last thing is that I want to give a huge SHOUT of thanks to Dr. Jeff Rouse. He is here in Baton Rouge doing
some amazingly important work with people. I spoke with him last night and I can say, he is a saint. You are the
best my friend. (special note to Jeff: Some TP people will most likely be calling you today).
Ok, that is it for now. I hope all of you are well. Thanks for all your e-mails. They have helped (although
sometimes I don't have time to read them when I want to because I am so busy with work).
Much love to you all,
Gina
That police officers are describing their situation in terms right out of Blackhawk Down is ridiculous. This is five
days later! How is it that satellite news vans have been everywhere for a week but trucks of provisions have not? At
least the media have finally grown a pair and begun raking some of these fuckheads over the coals. This was the
stuff that was supposed to go so much smoother! This was the very rare but very real "good thing" that came out of
9/11, remember? Streamlined command structures, massive drills, "war game" style simulations of disaster
responses...this was what all that extra money was being thrown at! These were our "lessons learned." What the
fuck happened? Why is the response to this crisis so pathetic?
I do not believe, as some people are saying, that it is because the people left behind were poor and black. I really,
honestly do not think that has anything to do with it. I do not know what happened. I'm not sure anyone does, yet,
but obviously something got stuck in some bureaucracy somewhere. And some heads need to fucking roll. They
need to get that jackass head of FEMA off of his little news conference pedestal and put him in Command and
Control of a mop. Then they need to get some woman or man or teen in there who is going to start kicking ass and
taking names.
See, I told you I shouldn't get started...
Please listen to this interview with the Mayor of New Orleans this morning.
I don't know what to say after that.
Yesterday I posted a piece I wrote about the Houston flood in '01. It was kind of flippant about some things, it was
written a while after an event of far less magnitude. I hope I didn't offend anyone with it. I was really using part one
to get to part two, which I thought might interest people. It talks about my experience carrying people out of a
Hospital without power and I thought it might help people understand what it is like in that situation, which we have
been hearing a lot about around the Gulf Coast area. Of course now i can't find it, but I did find my notes and I will
come up with something if my hard drive refuses to give up its secrets.
In the meantime PLEASE put pressure on your government to help these people in the south.
Find your Senators.
Find your Representatives.
Find the President...or maybe the Vice President would be a more efficient use of your time.
Email or write or call or fax them and let them know this is not how we treat our own!
days later! How is it that satellite news vans have been everywhere for a week but trucks of provisions have not? At
least the media have finally grown a pair and begun raking some of these fuckheads over the coals. This was the
stuff that was supposed to go so much smoother! This was the very rare but very real "good thing" that came out of
9/11, remember? Streamlined command structures, massive drills, "war game" style simulations of disaster
responses...this was what all that extra money was being thrown at! These were our "lessons learned." What the
fuck happened? Why is the response to this crisis so pathetic?
I do not believe, as some people are saying, that it is because the people left behind were poor and black. I really,
honestly do not think that has anything to do with it. I do not know what happened. I'm not sure anyone does, yet,
but obviously something got stuck in some bureaucracy somewhere. And some heads need to fucking roll. They
need to get that jackass head of FEMA off of his little news conference pedestal and put him in Command and
Control of a mop. Then they need to get some woman or man or teen in there who is going to start kicking ass and
taking names.
See, I told you I shouldn't get started...
Please listen to this interview with the Mayor of New Orleans this morning.
I don't know what to say after that.
Yesterday I posted a piece I wrote about the Houston flood in '01. It was kind of flippant about some things, it was
written a while after an event of far less magnitude. I hope I didn't offend anyone with it. I was really using part one
to get to part two, which I thought might interest people. It talks about my experience carrying people out of a
Hospital without power and I thought it might help people understand what it is like in that situation, which we have
been hearing a lot about around the Gulf Coast area. Of course now i can't find it, but I did find my notes and I will
come up with something if my hard drive refuses to give up its secrets.
In the meantime PLEASE put pressure on your government to help these people in the south.
Find your Senators.
Find your Representatives.
Find the President...or maybe the Vice President would be a more efficient use of your time.
Email or write or call or fax them and let them know this is not how we treat our own!
September 1, 2005--
Well, wouldn't you know it. All ready to get back to writing about my little life and then here comes Katrina and
throws it all into perspective. A perspective highlighting the world's position as basically neutral to the point of
cruelty regarding humanity. Kind of reminds me of Elsa and a "hill of beans."
Anyway, everyone is probably overwhelmed with Katrina talk now, while Katrina makes everything else seem a fairly
petty topic of conversation.
Some small notes:
I am not dead. I can prove it with this interview. I also just received this link. It seems the people at Lion's Gate
were right after all with the cover art design. It does indeed get people to buy or rent the movie, which is good for
Lion's Gate. Upon watching it, they realize it is nothing like the cover and then hate it, and us, but Lion's Gate
already has their money, so what do they care? I have never before been involved in anything so universally hated,
excepting my own personal behavior. A lot of people hated In a Fix, but a lot of people loved it, too. This whole bait
and switch cover art fiasco confuses the issue, but the deafening silence of those I know have seen it but have had
the decency to follow Thumper's Mother's advice and "...say nothing at all" makes me wonder.
This is a good week to have those thoughts, because it really doesn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things
whether it and/or I sucked or was good or whatever. I have an apartment, I can pay the rent (maybe a few days late,
but that just keeps things interesting...), I have clean water and food and a few dollars in my pocket and as hard as
it is to remember in our ad-soaked world, thats really a pretty decent damn situation.
Actually, I keep being reminded of the flood in Houston in 2001, (eerily familiar photos) (newspaper stories) another
time when-on a much smaller scale and for a duration of only 2 days-nature showed a city who was boss. I
actually wrote a couple columns about my experiences there and maybe they would be appropriate here. It's
probably too soon, but what the heck, maybe a couple of laughs about a similar situation now safely behind us
would be good. Whatever...
Disaster Loves a Crowd
By definition, there are not too many instances where one is present at an historic event. Even fewer are the
occasions where the event happens not in front of, but around you. Such was the case last weekend when,
watching the local news preempt hour after hour of programming to cover the flooding here, I realized this was not
just another case of the local television sensationalizing, this was a full fledged disaster.
First it was just news about rain. Then more news about rain. Then kids playing in rain-filled streets. Then cars
started to go under, and people started to die, and things got ugly. I suppose that is what makes a disaster a
disaster. Events in day-to day life often get ugly, but in a disaster, when things start to go that direction, they go real
far, real fast.
I was watching from just north of Houston, about half a mile from where the serious flooding ended. My apartment,
recently sublet but still full of my stuff, sits in the center of town, but on a hill. I knew it, and what can laughingly be
referred to as my “valuables”, were high and reasonably dry. So, I was a spectator.
This is what those in Emergency Services want all of us to be in a disaster. Spectators are safe. Spectators are
not victims. Spectators stay the hell out of the way and don’t cause new problems. It doesn’t take a disaster for
them to wish this upon us, just unpleasantness. We’ve all heard “If you don’t have to be out on the roads, stay
inside.” It is good advice, and advice they had the newscasters hammering home every five minutes.
For a while.
As I sat on the couch and raided my parent’s refrigerator, things got worse and the messages changed.
“The Medical Center has been severely flooded. Any medical personnel who live in the area and can make it to
work, please report immediately.” That sounded bad. Of course, it’s been about 10 years since my last CPR
certification, so I didn’t have to worry; I am definitely not medical personnel. Soon the Red Cross asked all their
people to report. Damn, this thing was getting serious. Then they asked for people in the downtown area to show
up at their offices, to volunteer to work in the shelters they were beginning to set up as the rain slowly worked its
way around the city, methodically flooding one neighborhood after another.
“On the Southeast side, the Red Cross has opened a shelter at-“
“For those of you in East Houston, the nearest shelter-“
“Northeast Houston residents-“
Still, I was a long, flooded way away and if I didn’t have to be out on the roads, I shouldn’t be, so I might as well
work on that pie and flip from scene to scene to scene…
Then I heard them talking about Boy Scouts.
“Hermann Hospital has lost all power and is evacuating patients to other hospitals. They are asking for flashlights,
batteries, cell phone batteries and chargers. They are also asking for any Boy Scout troops in the area to come
with their den leaders to help transport patients down the stairs.”
They still have Boy Scouts? That did it. I can sit around on the couch eating snacks and watching television while a
lot of things fall apart around me; my relationships, my creative life, the Red Sox, but when they’re calling out the
flippin’ Boy Scouts, what can you do but get your ass up, put on some pants, make some sandwiches and start the
truck?
Finally, a disaster big enough to include a job I was qualified for: humping cargo down the stairs.
Hell Is A Journey, Not A Destination
There is something about a natural disaster that brings out the redneck in everyone, I guess. Scenes of
devastation bring out a desire to pause, crack a Busch Lite and sigh “Shee-it, they’re fucked”. And perhaps
watching swift-water rescues is the closest any of the rest of us will get to the actual NASCAR fan experience. But I’
ll tell you something else, natural disasters also bring out the genuine article. You’ve seen the children on
television, playing in the floodwaters? Rednecks.
Why? Well, my usually-35-minute drive to Hermann Hospital turned into a circuitous, 120-minute city tour as I tried
to find a passable route into the city, driving right up to and occasionally through those floodwaters…only a young
redneck would wade into water that smelled like that. I had other hints too, like their parents, who swam through
the same fetid soup to a stranded beer truck and dove below the surface to release its precious cargo. During the
whole ordeal, I watched hours of coverage, from local stations to national networks and even the BBC. All were
loathe to show what may, for me, be the defining image of the Houston Flood of 2001: highway overpasses lined
shoulder-to-shoulder with rednecks, drinkin’ beer and watchin’ the water rise, crest, then recede over the course of
36 hours or so.
The presence of one or more rednecks at a bad scene is so ubiquitous as to raise a Twilight Zone question of the
chicken-or-egg variety. Do they respond to the extremity or does the extremity somehow react to them? Do the
cops on C.O.P.S. roll out to the specific scenes of individual domestic disputes or does the sight of lit cherrytops in
the trailer park wrest the zombie-drunk, shirtless minions from slumber, pulling them inevitably forward, through
broken screen doors and trash filled yards toward the white-lit, flashing red promise of arrest? Disaster does not
strike the rich. If it did, surely we would see it. What news crew could resist the chance to tight focus on the face of
a hapless society maven as she exits clumsily from the fire department Zodiac and makes her way towards a
muddy-but-serviceable Four Seasons shuttle bus?
“Ma’am, can you tell us what it’s like in there? How deep was the water?”
“It’s up over the roses.”
Her soaked Chanel suit hanging heavily from her starved shoulders, pushing the heels of her pumps into the soft
earth, she grabs the arm of the reporter for balance. The coiffure that was just yesterday the tallest and most
envied in Houston society is now a dark, wet hair swamp that falls to the off-camera side, revealing the skin in front
of her ear. One, two, three thin scar lines, as reliable a history as the rings of a tree.
“That this would rain would begin on Thursday night, when the help is gone…well that just goes to show you how
things are these days.”
“Is that your husband, there in the track suit? Sir, if I could talk to you for just a second while they load your luggage
into the shuttle... It doesn’t look like you’ll be doing much jogging today, sir.”
“Heh, heh. No, son, it sure doesn’t. All the foul weather gear’s on the boat. Hey, you’re that fellow Chang, from
Channel 15, right?”
“Rodriguez.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah. You guys do good work.”
“How devastating is this going to be?”
“You know son, we’ll be fine. We’ll just count our blessings. Our house, the houses of our friends, they may all be
under water, but life will go on. We have contracts with caterers to that effect. Some of our staff is back there right
now, sitting on the roof, just itching to start the cleanup and put this mess behind us. That’s the stuff Houstonians
are made of. Now if you’ll excuse me, my wife is having some difficulties with the driver…”
Compelling television that would seem to exist only in the realm of the imagination. In reality, the soaked denizens
of the flood plains wear WWF logo apparel or thin, gold, serpentine chains that dangle below them both a cross
and a single, electroplated word: “bitch”.
The highways, waylaid by flash floods, were nearly all impassable, most with at least a few sections where the only
evidence of their previous function were the ghostly white squares just visible about a foot below the surface;
formerly the roofs of cars. Cars that escaped submersion were often picked up by the water and swept into
locations so awkward it was as if the flood had something to prove. Hours into the event, the highways were filled
with randomly placed cars. Some the victims of the water, others the “Hey! I’m parkin’ on the highway!” detritus of
those who had come with cases of beer to watch the water as it rose to strand them. Twice, I came within minutes
of the hospital, only to end up at a newly minted shoreline. Finally I found a way into the city, which seemed eerily
empty after the crisis/fish fry atmosphere along the outskirts. I saw hardly anyone as I made my way to the Medical
Center and to the third floor of the parking garage at Hermann Hospital. There was something odd about the
parking garage, something I couldn’t figure out as I drove up the ramps. ‘Oh yeah…no power. No lights.’ That was
how it was going to be in the hospital, too. ‘Fine. No problem. I’m prepared now, I guess.’
I was not, of course, prepared. The ride in had been Irwin Allen Meets Fellini. Once I made my way to the staging
area at the hospital, I realized Fellini was about to be replaced as co-director. The second part of this experience
would still be an Irwin Allen film, but this time with help from Wes Craven.
(continued)
Well, wouldn't you know it. All ready to get back to writing about my little life and then here comes Katrina and
throws it all into perspective. A perspective highlighting the world's position as basically neutral to the point of
cruelty regarding humanity. Kind of reminds me of Elsa and a "hill of beans."
Anyway, everyone is probably overwhelmed with Katrina talk now, while Katrina makes everything else seem a fairly
petty topic of conversation.
Some small notes:
I am not dead. I can prove it with this interview. I also just received this link. It seems the people at Lion's Gate
were right after all with the cover art design. It does indeed get people to buy or rent the movie, which is good for
Lion's Gate. Upon watching it, they realize it is nothing like the cover and then hate it, and us, but Lion's Gate
already has their money, so what do they care? I have never before been involved in anything so universally hated,
excepting my own personal behavior. A lot of people hated In a Fix, but a lot of people loved it, too. This whole bait
and switch cover art fiasco confuses the issue, but the deafening silence of those I know have seen it but have had
the decency to follow Thumper's Mother's advice and "...say nothing at all" makes me wonder.
This is a good week to have those thoughts, because it really doesn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things
whether it and/or I sucked or was good or whatever. I have an apartment, I can pay the rent (maybe a few days late,
but that just keeps things interesting...), I have clean water and food and a few dollars in my pocket and as hard as
it is to remember in our ad-soaked world, thats really a pretty decent damn situation.
Actually, I keep being reminded of the flood in Houston in 2001, (eerily familiar photos) (newspaper stories) another
time when-on a much smaller scale and for a duration of only 2 days-nature showed a city who was boss. I
actually wrote a couple columns about my experiences there and maybe they would be appropriate here. It's
probably too soon, but what the heck, maybe a couple of laughs about a similar situation now safely behind us
would be good. Whatever...
Disaster Loves a Crowd
By definition, there are not too many instances where one is present at an historic event. Even fewer are the
occasions where the event happens not in front of, but around you. Such was the case last weekend when,
watching the local news preempt hour after hour of programming to cover the flooding here, I realized this was not
just another case of the local television sensationalizing, this was a full fledged disaster.
First it was just news about rain. Then more news about rain. Then kids playing in rain-filled streets. Then cars
started to go under, and people started to die, and things got ugly. I suppose that is what makes a disaster a
disaster. Events in day-to day life often get ugly, but in a disaster, when things start to go that direction, they go real
far, real fast.
I was watching from just north of Houston, about half a mile from where the serious flooding ended. My apartment,
recently sublet but still full of my stuff, sits in the center of town, but on a hill. I knew it, and what can laughingly be
referred to as my “valuables”, were high and reasonably dry. So, I was a spectator.
This is what those in Emergency Services want all of us to be in a disaster. Spectators are safe. Spectators are
not victims. Spectators stay the hell out of the way and don’t cause new problems. It doesn’t take a disaster for
them to wish this upon us, just unpleasantness. We’ve all heard “If you don’t have to be out on the roads, stay
inside.” It is good advice, and advice they had the newscasters hammering home every five minutes.
For a while.
As I sat on the couch and raided my parent’s refrigerator, things got worse and the messages changed.
“The Medical Center has been severely flooded. Any medical personnel who live in the area and can make it to
work, please report immediately.” That sounded bad. Of course, it’s been about 10 years since my last CPR
certification, so I didn’t have to worry; I am definitely not medical personnel. Soon the Red Cross asked all their
people to report. Damn, this thing was getting serious. Then they asked for people in the downtown area to show
up at their offices, to volunteer to work in the shelters they were beginning to set up as the rain slowly worked its
way around the city, methodically flooding one neighborhood after another.
“On the Southeast side, the Red Cross has opened a shelter at-“
“For those of you in East Houston, the nearest shelter-“
“Northeast Houston residents-“
Still, I was a long, flooded way away and if I didn’t have to be out on the roads, I shouldn’t be, so I might as well
work on that pie and flip from scene to scene to scene…
Then I heard them talking about Boy Scouts.
“Hermann Hospital has lost all power and is evacuating patients to other hospitals. They are asking for flashlights,
batteries, cell phone batteries and chargers. They are also asking for any Boy Scout troops in the area to come
with their den leaders to help transport patients down the stairs.”
They still have Boy Scouts? That did it. I can sit around on the couch eating snacks and watching television while a
lot of things fall apart around me; my relationships, my creative life, the Red Sox, but when they’re calling out the
flippin’ Boy Scouts, what can you do but get your ass up, put on some pants, make some sandwiches and start the
truck?
Finally, a disaster big enough to include a job I was qualified for: humping cargo down the stairs.
Hell Is A Journey, Not A Destination
There is something about a natural disaster that brings out the redneck in everyone, I guess. Scenes of
devastation bring out a desire to pause, crack a Busch Lite and sigh “Shee-it, they’re fucked”. And perhaps
watching swift-water rescues is the closest any of the rest of us will get to the actual NASCAR fan experience. But I’
ll tell you something else, natural disasters also bring out the genuine article. You’ve seen the children on
television, playing in the floodwaters? Rednecks.
Why? Well, my usually-35-minute drive to Hermann Hospital turned into a circuitous, 120-minute city tour as I tried
to find a passable route into the city, driving right up to and occasionally through those floodwaters…only a young
redneck would wade into water that smelled like that. I had other hints too, like their parents, who swam through
the same fetid soup to a stranded beer truck and dove below the surface to release its precious cargo. During the
whole ordeal, I watched hours of coverage, from local stations to national networks and even the BBC. All were
loathe to show what may, for me, be the defining image of the Houston Flood of 2001: highway overpasses lined
shoulder-to-shoulder with rednecks, drinkin’ beer and watchin’ the water rise, crest, then recede over the course of
36 hours or so.
The presence of one or more rednecks at a bad scene is so ubiquitous as to raise a Twilight Zone question of the
chicken-or-egg variety. Do they respond to the extremity or does the extremity somehow react to them? Do the
cops on C.O.P.S. roll out to the specific scenes of individual domestic disputes or does the sight of lit cherrytops in
the trailer park wrest the zombie-drunk, shirtless minions from slumber, pulling them inevitably forward, through
broken screen doors and trash filled yards toward the white-lit, flashing red promise of arrest? Disaster does not
strike the rich. If it did, surely we would see it. What news crew could resist the chance to tight focus on the face of
a hapless society maven as she exits clumsily from the fire department Zodiac and makes her way towards a
muddy-but-serviceable Four Seasons shuttle bus?
“Ma’am, can you tell us what it’s like in there? How deep was the water?”
“It’s up over the roses.”
Her soaked Chanel suit hanging heavily from her starved shoulders, pushing the heels of her pumps into the soft
earth, she grabs the arm of the reporter for balance. The coiffure that was just yesterday the tallest and most
envied in Houston society is now a dark, wet hair swamp that falls to the off-camera side, revealing the skin in front
of her ear. One, two, three thin scar lines, as reliable a history as the rings of a tree.
“That this would rain would begin on Thursday night, when the help is gone…well that just goes to show you how
things are these days.”
“Is that your husband, there in the track suit? Sir, if I could talk to you for just a second while they load your luggage
into the shuttle... It doesn’t look like you’ll be doing much jogging today, sir.”
“Heh, heh. No, son, it sure doesn’t. All the foul weather gear’s on the boat. Hey, you’re that fellow Chang, from
Channel 15, right?”
“Rodriguez.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah. You guys do good work.”
“How devastating is this going to be?”
“You know son, we’ll be fine. We’ll just count our blessings. Our house, the houses of our friends, they may all be
under water, but life will go on. We have contracts with caterers to that effect. Some of our staff is back there right
now, sitting on the roof, just itching to start the cleanup and put this mess behind us. That’s the stuff Houstonians
are made of. Now if you’ll excuse me, my wife is having some difficulties with the driver…”
Compelling television that would seem to exist only in the realm of the imagination. In reality, the soaked denizens
of the flood plains wear WWF logo apparel or thin, gold, serpentine chains that dangle below them both a cross
and a single, electroplated word: “bitch”.
The highways, waylaid by flash floods, were nearly all impassable, most with at least a few sections where the only
evidence of their previous function were the ghostly white squares just visible about a foot below the surface;
formerly the roofs of cars. Cars that escaped submersion were often picked up by the water and swept into
locations so awkward it was as if the flood had something to prove. Hours into the event, the highways were filled
with randomly placed cars. Some the victims of the water, others the “Hey! I’m parkin’ on the highway!” detritus of
those who had come with cases of beer to watch the water as it rose to strand them. Twice, I came within minutes
of the hospital, only to end up at a newly minted shoreline. Finally I found a way into the city, which seemed eerily
empty after the crisis/fish fry atmosphere along the outskirts. I saw hardly anyone as I made my way to the Medical
Center and to the third floor of the parking garage at Hermann Hospital. There was something odd about the
parking garage, something I couldn’t figure out as I drove up the ramps. ‘Oh yeah…no power. No lights.’ That was
how it was going to be in the hospital, too. ‘Fine. No problem. I’m prepared now, I guess.’
I was not, of course, prepared. The ride in had been Irwin Allen Meets Fellini. Once I made my way to the staging
area at the hospital, I realized Fellini was about to be replaced as co-director. The second part of this experience
would still be an Irwin Allen film, but this time with help from Wes Craven.
(continued)
Don Wood Online
For the love of Pete, who's in charge here?
For the love of Pete, who's in charge here?
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