It’s so surreal-the complete destruction of a major United States city.
“New Orleans is no longer safe to live in. It’s that simple and that stark.”
I listened in disbelief as reporter Aaron Brown made this statement last Wednesday, standing in the waterlogged remains of what was, just a couple of weeks ago, one of the most colorful, eclectic and culturally rich cities in the country.
For people who have never seen enough of New Orleans to consider themselves more than tourists, you probably think of the city as a tacky amalgamation of street performers and nonstop partying. You think of New Orleans and think of Mardi Gras and Bourbon Street. I’ve heard some people call it dirty, saying that the hurricane wiping it out was no real loss because of how trashy it was to begin with.
If this is the New Orleans you knew, I am deeply sorry that you never got the chance to realize the true majesty of the city. I grew up in Birmingham, but I knew New Orleans almost as well as a local. My grandparents and great-grandparents were from there. My dad grew up there. My parents met there. We still have family and friends living there. That is they did, up until last week.
When I think of all that has been lost and everything that I, and everyone, will never again have the chance to appreciate, it’s an almost unbearable pain. Every time I visited I felt like I didn’t have enough time to take everything in. There was always another ornate house to imagine myself living in someday, another sunset over Lake Pontchartrain to soak in, another endless trip across the causeway, another willow tree swaying in City Park to recline upon, another heavenly meal to enjoy at some spectacular restaurant, another artist, sidewalk musician, marina, hole-in-the-wall ice cream shop, fisherman and fountain to admire.
I couldn’t help the aggravation I felt when a smiling President Bush showed up last week to say that everything will be rebuilt, that New Orleans will be restored to its former glory, that “cities will flourish.” It was like some scene from a cheesy disaster movie. There’s nothing wrong with showing optimism, but no one directly affected wants to hear that one day things will be fine. They want help now, not some warm, fuzzy statement of false comfort, of a future that’s not only years away but also completely uncertain.
As Bush flew over the affected areas of the Louisiana and Mississippi coasts, I felt very little emotion watching him stare out of the window with his chin propped in his hand, a photo most news station seemed to view as the president’s solemn reflection. I hardly thought so.
I felt even more miserable every time I heard someone praising classes being cancelled or the recollection of last week’s hurricane parties. It seemed they thought nothing of any real consequence happened, or that there’s nothing worth mourning or no one worth reaching out to. Last week as classes resumed, I heard a guy say that he didn’t care about an economic crisis or the tragedy that is growing by the minute, as long as he could buy cold beer in Starkville. I’ve heard so many people say they feel no sympathy for the people trapped in New Orleans because they had the chance to evacuate. Some people simply didn’t have the money or resources to get out of the city. No one deserved it-even the crazy New Orleanians who decided they could ride out the storm. No one expected this to be a history-making natural disaster.
I don’t even feel that I should complain about rising gas prices. They seem frivolous to worry about for me, a college student. I wish I could be down on the Coast helping with the relief efforts, but I realize there’s little more I can do from here than donate things.
I urge you all to make donations of anything you can spare-clothes, money, food and supplies needed for everyday life. If you think you can’t spare anything, please just turn on CNN and just let it sink in how many people have literally nothing but the clothes on their backs. We can all spare something.
None of the culture, history and aged beauty that has been lost in the city of New Orleans can be reclaimed, but I hope above all that what’s been suggested doesn’t prove true, that the new New Orleans, whenever it may surface, will serve as no more than a cultural center and port city. There was no city in the country like New Orleans, and it contributed something beautiful, something necessary, something we should go to all lengths to replace so that one day New Orleans will be restored to what it was mere weeks ago. Or perhaps it’s just that I don’t want to let it go.
I’m not going to be one of those people who says, “They need our prayers,” or “Say a prayer for these people,” because prayers aren’t what the people affected need. Prayer isn’t going to cause clothing, food and shelter to rain down from heaven. The only thing that really matters now is action, and I just hope every able person has enough heart and initiative to take it.