Before and After Katrina

18 08 2015

Before and after Katrina is how we mark time down here in south Louisiana. There’s been other storms since then, but 10 years later, if someone talks about THE storm, you know they’re talking about Katrina. It’s the event that changed our lives forever. What makes my story somewhat unique is that it was during this dark, stormy time that I experienced the best of humankind.

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As the storm approached the bigger event in my life was that my husband had moved out the week before. I would be weathering the storm without him with my then 15-year-old daughter. I don’t remember being worried; I’d been through hurricanes before and knew the drill. Baton Rouge is far enough inland that it’s where people evacuate. The next morning the storm had barely impacted us and I went back to work.

Early that morning, even New Orleans appeared to have dodged the bullet. The storm had not hit NOLA with full impact. Mississippi was a whole other story. By mid-morning, there was breaking news. The levees were breached and New Orleans was filling up with water like the geographic bowl it was. My work friend and I seemed to be the only ones in our office aware of the seismic shift that had just happened to our world. Our boss was more concerned about ad deadlines and couldn’t grasp that the nightmare everyone knew would someday happen, was upon us.

The hours, days and weeks that followed have now become a blur. It would be days or weeks before we could contact our friends or family in the drowned city 90 miles away. What we did know was that Baton Rouge instantly doubled in size. The streets were completely clogged with evacuees, the grocery shelves were empty and Baton Rouge welcomed friends, family and strangers into their homes for weeks and even months.

I work in marketing at Woman’s, a specialty hospital and the largest OB hospital in the region. When they evacuated the NOLA hospitals tiniest, most vulnerable babies and the moms who had just delivered, or were still in labor, they helicoptered them to Woman’s. This is when husbands were separated from their wives, mothers from their babies, and parents from their children.

Woman’s was where these families were eventually reunited. The world media descended on us because we were the happy ending story in a region filled with tragedy. Patients arrived in their hospital gowns; families arrived with only their flood-soaked clothes, desperately looking for their wives, moms and babies.

Those of us not involved in direct patient care did whatever job was needed. The staff went home and cleaned out closets to bring clothes to our patients and families in need. I was my daughter’s Girl Scout leader. I volunteered the troop, who was still out of school, and they gladly came to help. The Scouts sorted and organized the mountains of donated clothes that arrived crammed in plastic garbage bags. They collected the clothes orders from the nurses and delivered the needed clothes. These teen girls shopping skills proved invaluable as they set up this “Clothes Store” housed in the hospital’s medical library. We heard first-hand accounts the horrors of what had happened as the clothes were received with tears, hugs and gratitude. We all did a lot of growing up.

We heard about the nurse who had learned that one of her patient’s had finally located her young son who had been put on a bus and sent to Houston. This nurse drove all night to Houston (5-hours away) to bring this son back to his mom. This was the kind of story I was experiencing amidst the stories of death, gunfire, drowning, looting and fear that filled the news.

It would be months later before I drove down to see the devastation first hand. It was like entering a war zone. Mile upon mile of devastation, and empty buildings, and no people on street after street. The black cloud of depression hung over the area for years.

It’s now been a decade.

I was recently visiting with a dear friend whose beautiful home overlooks Lake Pontchartrain. It received storm damage, but remained livable. She said she has no memories of the 5 years post Katrina. She took an early retirement from working in the criminal justice system. Her stories are the opposite of mine. She did not see the best of human behavior. I’m sure this was an unspoken factor in her taking an early retirement.

New Orleans has a revived spirit. Young entrepreneurs flooded the city post-storm and brought their youthful energy to this old town. Many stayed and made it their home. That depressed cloud is now gone. It’s still a city that is rebuilding; there’s still too many impoverished, too much crime, and really, really bad roads. But it’s jazzy, gritty, spirit is once again alive and well.

Baton Rouge no longer feels like the country town it once was. It has a thriving downtown and sprawling suburbs. Like New Orleans it’s now a city that has too many impoverished, too much crime and really bad traffic. But there’s a creative spirit in the air that extends beyond LSU football season.

The storm forced Woman’s Hospital to move up their expansion plans. When Baton Rouge instantly grew, so did the needs of the community. Our brand spanking new hospital is now 3 years old. Whenever I hear a helicopter, I flash back to those Katrina days. There was the constant sound of helicopters overhead. Helicopters still land at our new helipad bringing moms and frail babies, but these patients aren’t desperate and lost from their families.

That Scout troop stayed together through High School and took a trip to Italy together their Senior year. I’ve now been divorced for a decade. I’ve built a new life with my wonderful sweetie, Steve. My daughter’s dad and I sat by each other and watched with pride when our baby girl graduated from LSU a few years ago. We’ll all have dinner together when she flies in from Chicago for a visit.

Katrina…an epic milestone to remember. It’s important to celebrate progress and to mourn what is gone forever. It’s important to look back and see how far we’ve all come. God bless us all.

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In memory of a Wild Woman

5 08 2015

Today would have been my Mom’s 87th Birthday. In honor and memory of Jimmie Dee I repost this story I wrote a while back that’s full of my favorite wild woman stories of her. 

  My mom dresses just like the Cosmo Girl.


My mom dresses just like the Cosmo Girl.

Caution: contains explicit language; I’m quoting my mother.

At some points in my life…I sometimes…have been known to flash certain people. Not in public, mind you, but I have been known to flash my daughter as well as my sweetie. Not at the same time—that would be weird. So it just came to their awareness that they had both been recipients of this gift. Which led them to ask, “Why?” I replied, “ Well, it’s kinda like when Nana flips you off.” Both my daughter and sweetie were perplexed and said, “Nana has never flipped me off.” This led me to the realization that I need to start writing down my mother’s wild woman stories.

History
What makes Mom’s stories so wild to me is that I’ve watched her grow into her wildness. She’s gotten feisty in her senior years. At 84, she’s clear as a bell and can always read her audience and knows just how outrageous she can be. She’s got that sweet, little ole lady thing going for her; think a southern, genteel, frail, Betty White.

Dinner Conversation
We traveled to her Texas family roots for a holiday a few years back. The family adores each others stories and the more outrageous they are, the louder we laugh. We tell the same ones over and over and all talk at the same time. Mom’s brother is known to email the raunchiest of jokes to his daughters. We think we’re all hilarious. So as we gather round the table Mom tells everyone about her new boyfriend, Dick (that’s really his name) at the nursing home. She tells us one night she carried her boom box down to Dick’s room, very late, when everyone was asleep. She slips quietly into his room turns the sexy music on and she proceeds to do a strip tease for him. She then, picks up her boom box and goes back to her room. The next day, Dick tells her that he had the strangest dream. She never tells him it wasn’t a dream.

The Night Shift
Not long after this, Dick and Mom move into the same room. She tells us all that she can’t get any sleep. The night shift, she says, “keep coming in our room all night trying to catch us f*#king!”

The ER
Mom is frail and falls more often these days, which seriously concern me. She took a tumble recently that put her in the ER. Her hand needed stitching up. It was a bad cut, but it was a minor injury in the ER. While the staff was sewing her up, she engaged them in a friendly conversation. I’ve learned to be quiet when she’s on a roll. She was telling them about her “fiancé” Dick. She said, “I have no interest in getting married, but I did make him put a ring on my finger,” holding up her uninjured hand. She was rambling on about him and how he’s such a picky eater. The ER staff was listening politely. She then said, “So I asked him, what do you like to eat? You know what he said? He said he likes to eat pussy.” This comment had them in stitches.

My DNA
I realize I have this wild woman gene in me. My daughter has already witnessed her own future ‘cause she has it too. I guess it’s time to go flash someone.

Mothers and daughters, our maternal lineage

Mothers and daughters, our maternal lineage

I honor my maternal lineage: I am Connie Lee, daughter of Jimmie Dee, daughter of Jimmie Corrine, daughter of Minnie Mae; mother of Jade Lee-Mei.