The Information Super-Frog

Personal retrospective anniversary post - adapted from my old LiveJournal (migrated to Dreamwidth) post on the 1st anniversary, as I was too busy experiencing it to post about it at the time, with a few slight edits and some relevant photos added.

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To backtrack just before...

Beverly, an old friend and former New Orleanian, and her sweetie, Girgl, the professor of physics from Germany, were staying at my place. The previous day other old friends were passing through town, Nancy & Harrison, moving out of Bay St. Louis on the Mississippi coast up to Arkansas. We and some other acquaintances all went to lunch at Sid-Mar's, on the Bucktown peninsula where the 17th Street Canal meets Lake Pontchartrain. (Spoiler, I mention this place specifically as less than a week later everything in the area would be gone.)


Photo by Infrogmation: What was left of Bucktown after we got back to town from evacuation.

My car brakes were sticking, I said maybe I should take it by a mechanic in the morning. Girgl said he'd take a look at it. He jammed the brake pedal hard and it stopped sticking. He said it was likely just a pebble caught in the mechanism, but it was fine now.

The tv news reported a category 1 hurricane named Katrina was heading towards the Florida Panhandle.

At night we had dinner at Mandina's in Mid City. (Spoiler, in a few days Mid-City New Orleans would be inundated in the Federal Flood when the levee system failed in the biggest engineering disaster in US history.)

Friday morning, 26 August 2005, I'd listened to the news on the radio this morning and not heard of any change about the hurricane.

I picked up my new business cards, the first ever with my just acquired self-phone number. I'd be leading my new band at the Miss Crescent City pageant the following day. I stopped by the Unitarian Church on Claiborne where the pageant would be. Ms Hollie was one of the organizers, and I checked out the venue and looked in on some of the rehearsal.




Photos by Ms Hollie: Interior of the Unitarian Universalist Church after we got back from evacuation.


Friday night I was playing trombone as a substitute with a jazz band on Decatur Street in the Quarter.

On break, a tourist remarked how much fun they were having, and they'd managed to change their flight to leave early the next day. Why's that, I asked. The hurricane is coming! Hurricane? Others who'd heard more recent news confirmed that Katrina had changed course and strengthened and was a potential threat to New Orleans. Might come here sometime after the weekend.

Saturday the 27th Ms Hollie and I were both in a bit of a tizzy. The morning news showed the storm looking even worse. Hollie was taking care of Pageant details, and I was taking care of things regarding the band, while contemplating that we may need to evacuate. I picked up the sandwiches for the band, unsuccessfully looking to fill my gas tank on the way-- stations either had long lines or had signs announcing they were out of gas. The band's drummer, Sue, called to say she couldn't make it as she'd been called to the State Museum to do their hurricane battoning down the hatches procedure. I unsuccessfully tried to get a sub, calling around thinking, "Oh no! A hurricane is coming, and I have to find a drummer!"

The band members -- sans drummer-- met at the trumpeter's house in Broadmoor, a short distance from the venue. (Spoiler, Broadmoor would soon be under deep water.) We'd planned to do a quick rehearsal, as the musicians I'd gathered had never played together as a group. We did no rehearsing, instead staring at the tv screen with a satellite image of a monster that seemed more than half the size of the whole Gulf of Mexico barrelling towards us.

On to the pageant. The band played some to fill time before anything else got started; Ms Hollie revealed that the MC didn't come into town from the North Shore due to the hurricane, and things had to be rearranged. The turn out was light but things went well considering the improvised nature. Fortunately the guitar and tuba were such good rhythm players that we overcame the lack of a drummer.

Before and after playing, the sax player, who managed a convenience store in the 7th Ward, was on his phone trying to finagle or bribe a gasoline tanker truck to make a run into town as the store had emptied their gas tanks early that morning. He was also instructing the staff to turn the freezer to maximum setting and put the perishables in it, as there might be a power outage. (Spoiler, this area of the 7th Ward would soon be in deep water.)



Photo by Jocelyn Augustino/FEMA, Aerial photo over the 7th Ward area 30 August 2005


After the pageant the co-organizer Margaret was going to drive straight to Dallas, and tried to foist off a whole pile of perishable food on Hollie and me. As I was trying to empty the refrigerator of perishables, most went right into a trash bag and the trash can. (Alas, the emptying of the fridge was not nearly complete enough, as would be revealed over 5 weeks later.)

Sue phoned to say the museum staff had made quick work of things and she was already in her car on the road to Texas.

I finally found an open gas station with not too terrible a line (they only had super; my car takes regular, but this wasn't the time to be too picky.)

Bev & Girgl were off somewhere (I later found another friend was taking them on a driving tour all around town-- in retrospect, very fitting). I closed up the house's storm shutters and packed up suitcases-- what we needed, then extra space filled with local collectables like jazzfest and art opening shirts.

Hollie and I then tried to unwind with a splash in the back yard inflatable pool and lying in the sun a bit-- it was a very beautiful late afternoon. Somehow, however, it seemed strangely quiet. I didn't realize until hearing other folks accounts later that most of the birds had already left town.

The Krewe of OAK Midsummer Mardi Gras Parade was in my neighborhood that night. Hollie and I were throwing together costumes when Bev & Girgl came back. I told them a major hurricane was coming, and they needed to pack up-- I'd check the weather service website at dawn, and if the storm hadn't changed course, they needed to get out. Girgl said, "This hurricane sounds very interesting. I have never seen one. I think I would like to stay and watch it."

".... No." I replied. "No, you don't. Nancy and Harrison want you to visit them in Arkansas; this is the time to go there."

We all went to OAK. The turn out was lighter than usual; many folks had already left town. We heard Mayor Nagin had issued a call for a voluntary evacuation. Some friends said they'd spent the day boarding up their house and packing, and planned to drive out after the party. One costumer had "KATRINA STAY AWAY" painted on them. It was a good parade party.


Beverly and Girgl at Krewe of OAK Mid-Summer 2005


Hollie and reveler at Krewe of OAK Mid-Summer 2005


Dancing in the streets of New Orleans, maybe for the last time, before evacuating.

Krewe of OAK Mid-Summer Mardi Gras 2005 photos by Infrogmation


Back home. Hollie needed to pick up her cell phone charger on the West Bank before leaving town. I said I didn't want to fight traffic in the morning; let's do it now. Traffic was light after midnight. Along Claiborne and Fountainebleau hundreds of cars were already parked up on the raised neutral grounds in hopes that the half foot of added elevation would protect them if there was flooding. (Spoiler, it wouldn't. )

We all got up before dawn on Sunday 28 August. Bev and Girgl drove out of town just before dawn. Hollie and I headed out about 40 minutes later, after I spent some time anxiously pacing around the house, double checking things, and throwing a few more possessions into the car.

Between the speed of the arrival of the storm and being busy, unlike evacuations for Andrew and Ivan I had no reservations nor definite destination. Maybe to my Brother in Gainesville, my parents who were staying in Jacksonville, or see if we can get a room somewhere beyond Tallahassee... just bug out. We headed east on I-10, on the high rise across the open water of the Rigoletts. Traffic was heavy but moving through Slidell, then pretty good thereafter. My car radio didn't work, but Hollie brought a portable. Somewhere in Mississippi we heard Mayor Nagin had made the evacuation mandatory, the first in the city's history. I was having a problem with my car's brakes-- every time I'd use them, they'd stick worse. It wasn't just a pebble, clearly. I had to jam on them repeatedly to get them unstuck. I tried to not worry Hollie by talking about the problem as an amusing minor annoyance, but she was not fooled.

At Tallahassee we stopped to eat and make some calls. My mother had already made us reservations in Jacksonville! She said she saw an ad in the paper with a good rate at the local Quality Inn, so she booked it. Peachy, thanks!

We made it to Jacksonville. I followed the directions-- it turns out it wasn't a Quality Inn as my mother thought, it was the "OK Quality Motel" or some such-- we looked at the room and the Quality was low indeed as fleas bit our ankles. We succeeded in finding a vacancy at a better motel nearby, and used one of the obvious defects of the room as an excuse to cancel the reservation at the first place.

The next morning, Monday the 29th, at the complementary motel breakfast the lobby tv was on showing satellite images of the hurricane coming ashore at South East Louisiana. One fellow evacuee from the area was for some reason insisting that the storm wasn't going to be hitting shore until that evening (I think that had been the prediction a day or so earlier, but the tv was clearly showing otherwise). I was trying to find a brake repair place when my parents arranged to move us to a better hotel-- with internet access (Yay). We repacked and moved to the other hotel. As we were unpacking the car Hollie got a call from Tal, who said he heard a report of those dreaded words: a levee break. A bit later, a report mentioned flooding somewhere in the 9th Ward. "Sounds like a rerun of Betsy", I sighed.

I took the car to get the brakes fixed. When it was ready, the mechanics wanted to joke at length that the Superdome now had a new skylight.

And so began my evacuation.

In my dream I was younger and on my own, but the time was this year.
I needed to find a new job and a new place to live. I was at a big jobs fair. I had a soft-side canvas suitcase with some clothes and possessions, and one of my trombones in a hard-case, even though I was looking for a academic/archival/writing job. I was staying at some dorm or rooming house, and my suitcase was riffled through when I wasn't looking and things were stolen, including all my shirts except for the the one I was wearing, a long-sleeved dress casual.
I first went for an interview for a job I'd applied for in Germany. From the description and benefits it was my first choice, but I thought I'd be very unlikely to get it, because I don't speak German which I was sure would disqualify me. 4 people sitting at a table interviewed me, and to my pleasant surprise they offered me the job, which would come with a room I could stay in at the University, and I could leave on a flight that afternoon. We agreed and made arrangements. It was never said, but I was quite sure that they were importing some good people to escape from the fascism rising in the United States. One of the interviewers asked if there was anything more I needed, so I explained that my shirts had been stolen so would it be possible after I landed over there for someone to help me shop for 2 new work shirts and a casual shirt or t-shirt to wear off work. I was told 'That can be arranged, not a problem'.

Next I was on the airplane, taxiing on the runway. We ran parallel to a passenger train on tracks beside the airport, and for a while were at the same speed, and people in the windows of the train and the airplane were looking at each other. The train was dirty and worn looking. Then the plane took off, and I was very comfortable in a business class seat. I thought the only thing I needed to take care of back home was to message some friends about the things I'd left behind in a storage room, and they could split them up or sell them as they wanted. Now I was about to start a new life elsewhere, as I looked out the window at the Atlantic Ocean below me, and thought of ancestors who had crossed the same ocean going the other way.

20 years ago this week I got my first mobile phone. I've upgraded once since (when the old flip phone finally died in 2020).

August 2005 I was fairly active playing trombone, with a weekly gig, a monthy gig, a gig that was a successful tryout for another weekly gig to start the following month, a private party, 2 special events, and at least 1 gig as a substitute.

Then at the end of the month, a notorious rude interruption.

I kept this my old LJ (migrated to Dreamwith) in no small part for the documentation of my life before, during and after the disaster.

I see on social media various locals talking about the anniversary bringing up PTSD.
All of us who went through it have that. In various degrees and manifesting in different ways, but I don't think there were any exceptions.

There's a 5 part National Geographic documentary "Hurricane Katrina - Race Against Time" that's supposed to be very good, and I plan to watch it; I read it's on Hulu and probably elsewhere.
Some find it best for their mental health to avoid such things.
I was one who dealt with things by diving in. Perhaps the less common reaction, but far from alone.

Beyond basic survival, I channeled my energies into documenting the situation and finding out what happened, fueled by righteous indignation and intellectual curiosity, and armed with my skills in historical research and a pocket digital camera I got while evacuated in Texas.

I got the camera intending to document damage to my own home and those of some friends who couldn't get back so soon and asked me to email them photos of how their homes looked. Soon, however, it became clear that more was needed, as stories in the national media were often clearly wrong. I'd participated in Wikipedia and Wikimedia before the Federal Flood, but dove in deep afterwards.

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I recall when evacuating for Hurricane Gustav in 2008, feeling that if New Orleans were destroyed, my taking part in rebuilding, even though at that point very incompletely, was probably the most important thing I'd done in my life - helping New Orleans exist for a couple more years.

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Effects on mental health vary from person to person.

Suicidal depression ran in my family, and I'd fought it myself, going back to childhood.
I've not had such episodes since, even when going through some very bad situations.
I think it's related to seeing such widespread disaster, and knowing in comparison that my own problems didn't amount to anything much. Although I'd understood that intellectually, it seems to have taken this disaster to understand it viscerally.

Corrupt hypocrite televangelist Jimmy Swaggart died at 90. (I keep hearing lots of people just assumed he died years ago.)

https://www.aol.com/news/us-televangelist-jimmy-swaggart-dies-160057339.html


About 1989, some friends had a "Jimmy Swaggart Party" at a seedy motel in a suburb of New Orleans - they claimed the room they rented was one Swaggart used to meet with prostitutes. All attendees were to dress as either televangelists or hookers. The tv set was tuned to a porn channel, with a paper cutout of Swaggart pasted on it so he'd be in every scene.

We had something else we had to do that day, but figured we had to stop by briefly, because the concept was so on point.

I dreamed I was on photo assignment to a huge grand stone church building with attached complex that used to be a convent up in Canada. I was taking photos of the architectural and sculptural details.

The complex was mostly deserted, except for a children's school band rehearsing in one hall. The caretaking team for the church decided that they could leave and go do something else since the band-director and a photographer (me) were on premises we could take care of things if there were any problems, although that was not really our role. Two of the children in the band took sick, which was more then the band-director could deal with so I had to stop photographing to get help for the children.

Then my role changed, and I was working to help select costume designs for the squirrels on the complex grounds. I was looking through a big book of squirrel costumes, and selected blue & white collars in geometric patterns, burgundy long-coats, and matching hats with large plumes to make the squirrels look like Dumas musketeers.

Like pretty much everyone who spent any time in the USA in the 2nd half of the 20th century, I was aware of Lucy Ball on television.
As an adult, I was somewhat surprised to find out she had 3 separate shows, "I Love Lucy", "The Lucy Show", and Here's Lucy". My impression had been that it was all one very long running show, with Lucy and various subsidiary characters, that had been on the air since about a decade before I was born and was still going when I was in my teens. Episodes were often on tv on reruns. I watched only irregularly. I thought it was sometimes very funny indeed, sometimes not, and often repetitive and annoying.

I haven't watched a Lucy episode in many years, so I'm not sure why it popped up in my dream. I likely saw a brief promo for it on "METV", which Hollie and I watch regularly for the "Svengoolie" comedic horror host Saturday nights.


Anyways, my dream:

Ms Hollie and I were hired as extras for Lucy's show. It was the original one filmed in black & white. Most of the show was a series of chase scenes on foot. Lucy & Ricky, sometimes with Fred & Ethel and sometimes not, were in one group. Hollie & I and a couple of other extras were in another group. A third group of people was chasing both of us. Sometimes we were running the same way, sometimes in opposite ways, our paths intersecting and clashing in wacky hijinks. At one point we were running through an office building, and Lucy shouted "We're being chased by a tiger! Quick, we need to find a veterinarian!" which was a laugh line. Then we were being chased up some stairs and Lucy's group and Hollie & my group were separated again.

At the end of the take Hollie was out of breath. I contemplated that I couldn't always do running like this (in my dream I was in condition where some days I could run but other days not), and I wondered if we were put in an episode with so much running to get rid of us, since the show usually didn't have much running. Then with the extras and crew we sat down at picnic tables to a meal served on paper plates. It included zucchini and french-fries, and I was pleased to find they were quite tasty.

Basic US history reminder: Keep in mind that slavery in the US slave states was not something just on plantations. Human enslavement was central to the economic & political system.
Pretty much every structure in the US South from European Colonial times through the US Civil War was built with slave labor.

Also, representing enslaved people as only furnishing "unskilled" labor is a deliberate and pernicious fiction to minimize the achievements and importance of People of Color. Skilled craftspeople and artisans labored as enslaved "property".

Every pre-1860s church, bank, town hall, town house, etc in the US South was as much a product of slavery as a plantation house.

When I say pretty much everything, it goes down to granular level.
Free family of Color or poor whites building their modest house by themselves with help from family and friends? Lumber would come from mills using slave labor. Bricks from brickyards using slave labor. Nails from ironworks using slave labor.
Slavery was a ubiquitous force in the whole of society.

This came to mind with news that Nottoway Plantation House, which had been the largest surviving example, burned down, and seeing some people on social media celebrating as if it were set fire by the enslaved people with the enslavers inside... It's 160 some years late for that.

I am vehemently against any glorification of the "lost cause" enslaver society, but see no victory in the old building's destruction.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nottoway_Plantation

IMO it should have been a monument to those enslaved there - including those who despite their suffering produced art and architecture, and illustrating the enslavers' decadent barbarity under a thin unconvincing veneer of culture.

I'm aware of only 3 Louisiana plantations made visitor attractions that make the centrality of brutal enslavement a key part of the story - Laura, Whitney, and formerly the 1811 Kid Ory House (which unfortunately closed for good during the pandemic).

M.S. Bellows, Jr. commented: "It was still encouraging white people to celebrate a culture that could not have existed without enslavement. It was having that effect in the present. It needed to burn."

I have to say I do see that as a valid perspective.
The issue is not about the long dead, it is about the living who are marketing an historic site of horror torture and death as being something cool and romantic.

In a dream last night I was at a music history conference, which is not unusual for me, and I had a pet stapler-cat, which is.

I called it "cat", but in every way it was more of a living stapler, small enough to hold in one hand, rectangular with no separation of head and body. It was covered with short green felt fur and had eyes on the top of it's head that looked like plastic googly eyes. So from the top it looked rather like a young child's craft project, but it was also an animal, with short lizard legs that it would use to scamper around. It had 2 long staple-fangs protruding down from it's upper jaw.

When I wanted it to stay for a minute and not run off, I put it on a tree branch and pressed down on it's head, sinking its staple-fangs into the bark. This stuck stapler-cat in place. I set it free by tapping on the top of its head again. Stapler-cat looked at me with it's googly-eyes in more embarrassment than annoyance, but forgave me as I petted it and called it "good cat".

“I had arrived at the season of general relaxation, on the eve of the Carnival, which is celebrated with much gaiety in all Catholic countries. Masks, dominoes, harlequins, punchinelloes, and a variety of grotesque disguises, on horseback, in carts, gigs, and on foot paraded the streets with guitars, violins, and other instruments; and in the evening the houses were opened to receive masks, and balls were given in every direction.” -- J. Freeman Rattenbury's description of Carnival in St. Augustine, Spanish Florida, February 1818, from "Narrative of a voyage to the Spanish Main"

Yesterday Ms H & I watched "Everything Everywhere All At Once". Excellent!
Sci-Fi Multiverse Kung-Fu Comedy-Drama, I guess. Deeply silly fun in parts and generally well crafted. One of the best films I've seen in a good while.

We woke up this morning to the sight of snow. It was predicted, but still startling to see. It's unusual for New Orleans to get any snow. We had light snows with enough to stick on the ground for a while in 1973, 1989, 2004, and 2008. However significant snow has continued to fall all day, I'd say conservatively at least 6 inches deep as of 2:30p - we haven't had the likes of this at least since 1963.