Monday, September 19, 2005

A heartbreaking post

(it killed me to read this and post this - jon)

Hello Mid City!
I was able to go to my house this past Saturday. We left a little late, arriving in the city at 6 pm. We were never stopped. I live in the 400 block of South Solomon, off of Carrollton and Banks. The entire neighborhood was grey....sediment and mud filled the streets. Fallen trees and branches were in abundance. When we pulled into our drive way, we found our window pane of our door broken (it is large enough for a child to enter). I Peeked in and saw that my belongings were scattered. In my naivety, I thought we had been broken into. But upon entry I realized that the standing water had shifted our furniture. Our block had up to 7 feet of water. My boyfriend had a record collection of 10,000 plus LP's and EP's (can we say obsessive?). Most of those shelves had collapsed and 20 something years of record collecting just disappeared literally under our feet. We were able to take very little, but grateful for our measly leftovers. Thick black mold was growing furiously on the bottom half of our walls. The stain and varnish on our floors had been stripped, and our floorboards were bowing. The smell of the neighborhood had to have been the worst part of this experience. It was the most pungent, nauseating seaweed-like odor that seems to envelope itself into everything that is left of your home.
We returned to New Orleans the following day, Sunday. We were stopped by the National Guard, did not have a business pass (I had a letter from my father's business). We were allowed in. My neighbor's were at their house when we arrived. They had been to their home about 5 times post-storm, and it had been secure up until Saturday. Someone had broken in. I noticed that there were virtually no National Guard in my Neighborhood. Perhaps it has to do with how worthless our homes are now, or the income level of my little area of Mid City.
Once we had taken everything that we could out of our house, we locked it up, knowing we will never return. I loved the little house and life that I once had. I will miss my hometown, my family, and friends. I wish those that are staying good luck and good health.

Elizabeth Broussard