In the days following Hurricane Katrina, the College encouraged
alumni affected by the disaster to use the HOLAC message board to
reconnect with Hamilton friends during the post disaster recovery
period.
Among those who posted was Andrew Marsh '90, who shared his story of
heroism and survival through several compelling journal-style accounts
he called "a humble story in light of humbling events." Marsh and his
wife Catherine decided to stay in New Orleans where Andrew works as an
emergency room doctor at the Northshore Regional Medical Center in
Slidell. Here are some excerpts from his story:
9/3/05
Catherine and I realized Saturday before the storm that things might
not be safe, but I elected to remain in New Orleans in preparation for
my shift Tuesday morning in Slidell, LA at the Northshore Regional
Medical Center where I would be staffing the ER in "recovery" mode
after the storm. Despite frequent protestations that I should leave
from concerned family members I thought two things: the storm
invariably would "jugg" east despite what the professionals were
saying, and I was obligated to remain to fulfill my shift on Tuesday
morning... and the storm continued to strengthen.
Sunday we awoke at 6 a.m. to rumors that Home Depot had a fresh
shipment of generators and plywood. We purchased a generator and
several sheets (the staff was wonderful and patient under mounting
pressure). We boarded the windows of the house and purchased gasoline
found at a ma and pa station that apparently had been overlooked by the
panicked many in favor of the corporate stations, which were all dry.
And we hunkered down... and the storm continued to strengthen.
Mayor Ray Nagin, followed by President Bush, each in turn stated to get
out... but what truly worried me was that a state of emergency was
declared by Bush in advance of the storm hitting for both LA and MS. We
jumped in the car at the eleventh hour, but once on the road we only
advanced approximately 5 miles in 1 hour... the fumes. I said I'd
rather die in my house than in a line of cars with a storm
approaching... and the storm continued to strengthen.
We returned home (my wife at the side of her crazy husband) and cooked
homemade jambalaya, served with a couple of glasses of French wine. I
was a little tired from putting up the plywood and days and days
previously on call with no sleep so I took a nap at approximately 7
p.m. -- the skies were clear... Looks like the storm is going to go
east... I told you so, we never get hit... and Katrina yawned and the
winds she expelled reached in excess of 155 mph... and with each breath
she strengthened.
"Wake up Andrew we are going to my sister's house...." Huh, what (wake
up). In a hurried rush we left for Catherine's sister's house -- a
sturdy three-story structure where we could find elevation above what
the radio was declaring -- the levees might be breached, and flooding
would ensue. About 10 or 11 p.m. we sought refuge in the attic rooms
and turned the TV on... the storm is headed for NO and is a Category 5
storm... and still strengthening. Huh, Category 5 -- haven't heard of
that, strengthening... well it is going to "jugg" east I tell ya...
Katrina's eye opened and she bore forward, and still she strengthened.
We attempted to sleep in the guest room in the attic. Turned the lights
off. Left the TV on with no sound -- comforting as this meant the
electricity was still on. 4 a.m. -- a huge explosion in the distance
with an incandescent green glow (last time with tropical storm Cindy
these explosions were from transformers or generators on the grid)...
but this was a big, big explosion. TV still on, must be ok... 5 a.m. TV
and the air conditioning shut off... no more electricity. Hand-held
radio the only communication out... and for the next hours only WWL 870
with Garland Robinette announcing a minute-by-minute update. Trees
outside (tall river oaks) flopping in the wind like wet paintbrushes
being flicked by an unseen artist.
Well if this is the worst we'll be ok... it's got to move east... it
always does... doesn't it? We move to the second-floor landing... the
phone line is still working... Catherine talks with sister several
blocks away on the other side of Audubon park... "No Catherine the
worst is yet to come. The storm is expected to reach us by 9 a.m." only
7 a.m... two more hours of this!?!... the house is shaking. The house
is shaking... a three story house is being buffeted by the winds, and
shaking. Flying shingles shatter several windows... the rain enters...
horizontally across the ceiling, dripping tannin brown.
Time to go to the walk-in closet... suits shaking. Wind howling... no
relief, no sleep... 100 ft. pine trees in Audubon Park snap in two.
Flooding on Walnut Street from sidewalk to sidewalk... a veritable
river. Leaf litter in the air plastering walls... "What time is it?" 8
a.m... light on the horizon, but winds getting stronger... house alarms
go off... electricity? no battery backup... go outside "Andrew do not
go outside" try to sleep... winds... Hello, I am Katrina... I wish I
were pleased to meet you...
Calm, light winds... still overcast. I walk out onto the streets. There
are trees down everywhere, but the water has receded... Well, thank
god, it's over... Catherine and I walk home, about half a mile, past
downed oaks... hanging electrical wires all over the place... Our home,
a one-storied Creole cottage, is relatively unscathed, but all the
trees are down... Well, time to clean up. We take off the plywood and
unshutter the windows.... We start raking the leaves and picking up the
limbs... good people ask if we need assistance... I start up the
generator. We only have about 7 gallons of gasoline... The evening
breeze is cool... The sunset is orange... We reheat the jambalaya and
offer several plates to our blind neighbor and his roommate (wonder how
he perceived the experience)... Ah warm food, lights from the generator
and a cool breeze... Life is back to normal... Thank god... I have to
go to bed early because tomorrow I go to the ER in Slidell... ah sleep.
5:30 a.m. on the road -- trees down everywhere... I am in Catherine's
Xterra... I drive up onto the levee and past Ochsner Hospital... No
lights. I go north on causeway past wildlife and fisheries personnel.
Take I10 East -- a mile down, where 610 and I10 split, there is a lake,
a large, large lake... the brand new pumping station is there... how
can this be? I go back. Take causeway... cannot as the lakefront now
extends south and the road is under water. I go east on I10 past Kenner
-- a lagoon with only rooftops visible. I go north on 55 and then east
on I12. I get to Slidell at about 8:30 and begin my ER shift. I'll be
home for dinner...
9/3/05
After passing multiple St Tammany Parish PD roadblocks, I arrive in the
ER to relieve those MDs on call over the weekend. Electricity from the
grid is down, so we have to run on generator power, which limits
electricity to barest minimum usage. No elevators, no CT scanner -- it
is overheated, NO AIR CONDITIONING, no cardiac panel... limited labs. I
settle in... Whoop, whoop, whoop -- a bell huey arrives with 7 patients
(3 on litters and 2 walking wounded). The National Guard is performing
a vertical evacuation from the rooftops of flooded hospitals (Memorial,
Lindy Boggs, Chalmette) and they arrive often with no charts... No idea
how to begin... The rescued few from the Gulf Coast have been in the
mud and suffer from exposure to snake bites and lacerations that cannot
be closed because of the time... infected. Update the tetanus and give
fluids.
Where is the Red Cross and where is FEMA? Disaster management is in a
command center, but incident command has only one satellite phone,
limiting communication. We are virtually isolated. The TV works but the
antenna connects through the ham radio line, which is our only other
extension to the outside... to area hospitals. Patients requesting pain
medicine for chronic ailments must be turned away... only true
emergencies are allowed past a security line maintained outside of the
ER in order to hold beds for incoming helos. Tempers flare... There is
no security. That night someone breaks into several cars. The van
belonging to a nurse is stolen... gasoline is a commodity worth its
weight in gold.
The national guardsman who unloads the helo is jittery... he won't go
out after dark because the searchlights make them easy targets...
Targets?! The dings are from handguns... The AK47s succeed in piercing
the skin...You've got to fly back... save those people... a downed
helicopter is a useless helicopter... The airlift will continue
tomorrow. Sikorsky Corporation lands a large helicopter... Sightseeing
copters from Houston... Heroes one and all...
The patients are scared; some angry (they've been separated from loved
ones and would like to be rejoined... That will be done by the Red
Cross. But where are they? I go to the local park where I am told that
they may be found... I found rabblement and near-riot, with Slidell
police officers attempting to maintain calm... Heroes... No Red
Cross... No FEMA. I go to Slidell Memorial Hospital and find Ujwal, an
LSU ER resident and my former "younger brother" during my residency...
He is now a senior resident and has been at the hospital throughout the
hurricane... What news from New Orleans? How can I get back to see my
wife? A hero...
Back to Northshore, more patients... more helicopters. I wish I could
tell their stories, but privacy limits my ability or my desire to do
so... but heroes... no complaints about the 100 degree weather or the
fumes, the fumes from the aged helicopters...
Night brings little relief... A code... third-degree heart block and
unstable... he needs a pacemaker, but won't survive transport and the
cath lab is down... Oh God please help me... I know the treatment but
cannot provide (I have lost my mission)... Do I externally pace him?
But this is a temporizing measure... he'll still need a pacemaker...
God help... Vfib and then asystole... he's gone. He's gone. The living
take precedence, but how do I tell his daughter. There are no visitors
and she and his wife were asked to leave after 7 p.m. because whole
families began appearing with some patients... What do I do, what can
one do?...
A new day and I take a small 2-3 hour break and drive to Bay St. Louis,
Mississippi to see to my mother-in-law's house, which had survived
Camille. My mother-in-law Mrs. C had been there through Saturday and
had left with our pleadings. The house... where is the house? I go
along the beach, which covers the road and extends inland. Trees are
uprooted and downed everywhere. A majestic live oak cradles a twisted
telephone pole... the wires are wrapped around limbs and hang lifeless.
There are no leaves on the trees... The house... Well here are the
steps... and nothing else... nothing else.
Another day as above... I decide I must find my wife... I call over the
sat phone frantically until I discover from my father that she left on
Tuesday after discovering that the levee had broke, and she feared for
her safety.... She drove down Tchoupitoulas Street past the Super
Wal-Mart -- looting. Now I understand if someone were to take food or
water (this is an animal/survival instinct), but looters were walking
off with clothes and electronics, as well as guns and ammo... These are
terrorists and should be treated no other way... regardless of race or
class... They are terrorists.
I have planned to return to New Orleans, originally to find my wife,
but then to go to the house to procure essentials (my MD diplomas -- I
need notarized copies of the originals for job applications/my computer
hard drive for financial stuff). Friday morning, early I drive to NO. I
have a Berretta and two clips but when I arrive back at causeway there
is a mass of people... a staging ground and people do not look happy...
I turn around and head for Houston.
We are rebuilding our lives... People have generously loaned living
arrangements free of charge... The dogs are in a kennel (they are like
my kids). They are Catahoula Leopards (the Louisiana State Dog). I
cannot see them...
Tomorrow, I return to New Orleans... I will attempt to return to my
house (Catherine has been text messaging our neighbor from across the
street -- she states that our blind neighbor has refused to leave). I
will look in on Izzy and pray that he will return with me... Then I
will return to Slidell and start another shift -- probably for about a
week now that I know my wife, my joy is safe...
9/5/05
Sunday 4:30 a.m. I leave Houston headed for New Orleans. In the Xterra
I have approximately 10 1.4 gallon jerry cans and one 5 gallon jerry
can filled with gasoline. The lids are taped with duct tape and covered
with black plastic bags in order to dissuade the dissolution of fumes
into my passenger compartment. The air-conditioning is left off to
preserve fuel efficiency and the windows are open to prevent headaches
generated by the fumes of leaking gasoline. I head east into a
beautiful orange sunrise.
As I leave Baton Rouge toward the Big Easy traffic becomes congested
with National Guard trucks, buses of all sorts (city evacuation),
utility trucks by the score and personal vehicles. Entry points into
the city are "closed" except for essential personnel. I flash my
Charity Hospital ER ID, as well as a St. Tammany Parish Coroner's
identification (I've been deputized)... and am waved thru. I return to
I10 at causeway -- the crowd of those evacuated from the Superdome are
gone, and in their stead remains a mass of refuse... and workers
cleaning up the garbage, which reminds me of Mardi Gras. I retrace my
route home... few souls, trees are still down everywhere, but my nook
of uptown is dry.
Like Mad Max I drive into my neighborhood ready for a gun battle...
Nobody. "Izzy" where are you you old coot? "Izzy" No response. Well,
maybe he left. My gate is smashed open, as is the side gate... The
terrorists amongst my neighbors have "borrowed" my generator... "Doc!"
"Doc?" My neighbor Ricky (Izzy's roommate) is calling for me -- where's
Izzy... He's over with his drinkin' buddies. I find Izzy and tell him
to come with me to a shelter -- no (no?!?!?) he'll stay and make do. I
give him two cases of water donated by my sister-in-law and a ruby-red
grapefruit.
Back to the house, nothing stolen. I ask Ricky who took the
generator... "I don't know I didn't have time to see the car as it
drove away..." He knows... someone in my neighborhood. I tell him to
let them know that they can borrow it until I return and when I stay
overnight I expect it back... Barter: I'll provide the gas, as an
incentive. As I pack to leave, I only take wedding pictures --
requested by my wife.
I drive over to the house where we'd sought refuge -- appears ok/no
looting apparent. I go to the Orleans/Jefferson parish line and refuel
in sight of Jefferson Parish police officers who have set up a road
block (heroes and a job well done). The traffic light behind Ochsner
Clinic is operating-- electricity!!!? I look down and see that the cell
phone has an incoming signal. A smile across my face -- a return to
normalcy.
Back on the interstate I pass the airport, underneath a C5A Galaxy as
it flies/soars over my head. The skyline behind me, over the CBD
(Central Business District) is plastered with hovering helicopters. The
Coast Guard (here from the get-go -- heroes), Black hawks and sundry
others. In the beginning death came from the sky (that evil eye of
Katrina), now life from the skies has taken its place.
Around the lake, I spy a hawk in the upper reaches of a denuded
cypress. Hummingbirds flit around flowers. Dragonflies everywhere --
how did they make it thru?
I arrive back in Slidell, as a giant Navy sea stallion copter departs,
its wash reminiscent of the hurricane's winds, but this time an
awesomely beautiful sight. A red puma helicopter leaves shortly
afterward... Moments later she crashes outside Mercy Hospital where
she'd gone to retrieve the pets (dozens of dogs) of evacuated employees
who had remained behind with an anesthesiologist Dr. Reapelle (sp?) who
refused to leave without them as he had made a promise to their owners
to deliver them into safety (a HERO). The news on TV only focuses on
the downed bird -- maybe it was shot down -- media misinformation.
As the light fades, I begin to see more patients. No time to rest...
9/6/05
While sleep is elusive, dreams are not... Sandcastles in the sand (an early
memory) -- every child loves to build them near the waves despite
parental warnings about the risk of impending destruction. Castles made
of sand... so easily erased by unchecked waves. The beauty of the
structures are forgotten after tidal decimation; yet, we rebuild
anew... So too the castle founded by Indians and French wayfarers... La
Nouvelle Orleans... her battlements were made of gold, though some
claim tarnished by thieves... every castle has a thief...
And so the ramblings of a tired mind. But as a voiceless, humbled
spectator in an unfolding drama I find myself tired, yearning the
comfort of a bed. I remain sleepless. I watch pundits from somewhere
else flock to this magnificent gold castle and decry its ruler,
pointing to the desperation and anguish of its keep, neglecting the
waves crashing at the gate... Barbarians have entered this inviolate
wasteland attempting to put a voice to my stunned, mute tongue.
We have returned to a schedule of 12 hrs on, 12 hrs off... after nearly a
week of 24 hr shifts... As the numbers of rescued ebb, a hero appears on
the horizon... Helicopters arrive bearing pets rescued from Lindy
Boggs/Mercy Hospital... 2 die from dehydration despite attempts by
nurses and surgeons to iv resuscitate them... A second helo arrives
with the remaining dogs and the "crazy dog doctor" whose valiant
efforts have saved the loved, fury family members to many. He arrives
humble and with a soft voice. Some have said: "Why should we save these
animals, humans come first..." Ah, the irony... Sing a song for New
Orleans.
And into the fray appears the dark knight... He arrives with his own
camera crew to bespoil the hard-won victories of a select few... In
walks
Hollywood to redirect the camera and to take away proud musings... In
walks Matthew McConaughey. He exits a helicopter with a wad of chaw in
his mouth (I am one of you my country brothers)... He spits on hallowed
ground, then the grievous insult... he micturates on a bush (we have
bathrooms... this is a hospital... some are still attempting to
maintain hygiene). And camera lights flare up...
Shame, for shame... to use and besmirch the sufferings of a proud
people is unforgivable... He would look good behind an anti-aircraft
gun in Hanoi. He has brought me down... but as Frederick Douglas said,
"I will allow no man to drag me so low as to hate him." Mr. McConaughey
I forgive your insensitivity...
Back on duty. A deep laceration in the wrist. Chainsaw kickback...
Another ED staff member tends to a chainsaw wound to the leg -- another
chainsaw kickback... Retching, a woman retching -- diarrhea has set
in...And death in the shadows lurking... Dysentery... The fear of every
general, every military encampment...
Nurses buoy me up... "Tetanus already given..." X-rays already done. See
this patient first -- a baby, limp and overheated... The nurses each
deserve so much praise... Theirs is a thankless job... Clean the feces.
Clean the swamp mud... Their armor bears the bruises that keep the
kings and queens afloat... many have houses that are no more... many
have families turned asunder by the blind eye of Katrina.
Dusk arrives... there is a curfew in place, so the number of patients drops
precipitously... The National Guard finally arrives to offer protection to
the hospital... They have also taken over the checkpoints on the streets...
While 6 days have elapsed -- to see their faces brings tears to my eyes;
they are here, and that is all that matters.
Dusk also brings mosquitoes... They have been eerily absent, presumably
the mature flying kind were all killed -- or blown away by the
hurricane. Their progeny have now emerged -- maybe the natural cycle of
the beast is 6-7 days... West Nile Virus is a concern.
A small blessing -- the weather has cooled... but, unfortunately, there is
rumor of 3 storms brewing in the Atlantic... Our sandcastle drones on.
We must muster the troops and arm the battlements, lest we slip into the
waves...
9/8/05
September 8. I am not sure how many days have past. I believe we are 10
days out from the beginning of the New Orleans diapsora. I have
finally, finally had a good night's sleep... all of four hours, but the
blessing is in the rejuvenation I feel despite our current
circumstances.
Yesterday during my hours off, I revisited New Orleans. I drove down
via the causeway, which is now open to essential medical personnel. I
was accompanied by "Pops" and Ronnie, both from Houston's SWAT team.
While I will discuss our journey first in this note, my next diatribe
will focus on them and their selfless devotion toward assisting the
folks of St. Tammany Parish.
We arrived at a checkpoint located on the causeway southbound entrance
ramp. Things have changed. The sentries were all National Guardsmen...
My previous two forays into NO have always involved either local parish
police or state troopers... The half-hour drive across the lake was met
with sunshine and flocks of Louisiana's own brown pelican. Everything
calm. The AR15s tucked between my passenger's legs belied the
tranquility of the scene.
The New Orleans side of the causeway was dry -- the area had been under
about 5 feet of water the Tuesday after the storm. My passengers began
taking pictures with their disposable cameras. I had to remain silent:
I want to tell them that there would be far worse to come.
We overpassed I10 continuing south to the riverside levee. I10 was
spotless... no evidence of the concentration of people... the detritus
left by fleeing evacuees was gone. Replaced by a scattering of National
Guard vehicles and their occupants chatting out windows to each other.
On river road we passed Ochsner Clinic -- the street light still on.
Our leisurely jaunt ended at the Jefferson/Orleans Paris line where I
had stopped previously to fuel up under the watchful, protective eye of
Jefferson parish police. Now my colleagues and I were greeted by
checkpoint charlie... The National Guardsmen that manned the watch were
turning vehicles around. I rolled my window down and spoke with an all
business female guardsmen -- I tried to lie, badly, "I've been working
and have brought this guard detachment with me so that I can obtain
needed medical provisions from my house (yeah right)." "Sir, we are not
authorized at this time to allow residents back to their homes, but the
gentlemen straight ahead is my rank, you'll need to talk with him..."
She saw right thru me. She pointed to a Jefferson Parish police officer
who waved me through once he saw my Charity Hospital ID...
While I was dealing with the checkpoint personnel, my passenger Pops
was being beseeched by a women who had evidently been turned away from
the checkpoint... There is an 80-year-old women on Laurel Street...
please fetch her and bring her back... She has no way of getting out.
Nothing is easy now in the Big Easy.
We arrive at my home.
My visitors exit, their rifles at the ready... "Hey sir, look, I'm just
getting ready to leave..." Ricky... He hasn't seen me yet. When he
sees me I can tell by the look on his face that he's confused. Why had
I brought so much "heat"... He's right. Contrary to news reports, New
Orleans is probably the safest city in the United States now... Granted
it is a ghost town, but charity hospital saw on average 2-3 gunshot
wounds/violent crime deaths per day and prior to the horror show of
Katrina our murder rate was skyrocketing. Fear -- the destroyer of
proud men. The only fear is now in the eyes of Ricky as he eyes the
firepower at my side... I wish I had not brought this on him... It was
not necessary, but my Texan compatriots immediately put him at ease by
shooting the breeze with him... This will be the only shooting of the
day.
I show my guests my house... as I attempt to figure out what to
remove... "Only take things that mean something, that you cannot
replace..." Ernie (Pops) says to me... He has removed the omnipresent
cigar that he chews from his mouth... Best advice I've ever received...
While I still run around like a chicken with its head cut off, he's
added clarity into the insane dilemma in which I found myself... In the
end I left most everything behind..
On our way out a rickety pickup pulls up with Izzy (my blind neighbor)
in the passenger seat... You want to go? The crude hand written sign
pasted on the door of the pickup sums it all... The mayor wants me to
leave, Hell no! No body wants to leave their homes. I don't -- I cannot
believe I have to leave... Would you leave your home on little to no
notice?
We drive around the uptown neighborhood... Tulane University... Loyola
University -- no students, a ghost town. Audubon Park -- now a staging
area for National Guardsmen. We swing by as many in-laws homes that we
can -- all in good shape... I cannot go much past Oak Street on
Carrollton toward my mother-in-law's house. It's underwater.
We pass thru 2 checkpoints along the way. The first is manned by a boy
not much older than 18. There is a quiver in his voice... He's scared.
He's green. With time he'll have some stories to tell.
We go to Laurel Street and find the address given by the women earlier
at checkpoint charlie. Her neighbors come out and inform us that an
Army patrol had swept by earlier and taken her to the staging area at
Audubon Park...
We then proceed down Tchoupatoulas Street, past Tipitina's bar toward
downtown. The music has been silenced, but in my mind I hear its
memories and know that I'll be back... It's a cultural thang...
Down by the Marc Morial Convention Center we discover the "EMS" aid
station. I encounter dozens of charity staff and residents... I am so
happy to see them... They too are without a home -- they are modern-day
minutemen, because on a minute's note they would be hands on
assistance... no thought of their own trials and tribulations... I am
proud to be an alumnus amongst this vanguard.
We attempt to drive to the Superdome -- arriving about three blocks
from it before we are turned away... Charity hospital is inaccessible.
We turn around, retrace our steps to the causeway... As we pass through
checkpoint charlie searching for the woman seeking the 80-year-old. We
cannot find her and hope that the two have been reunited, or at least
that she has been informed of her successful recovery.
Back on the causeway north to the north shore... Van Morrison's "Tupelo Honey" melts into the breeze...
9/10/05
Houston's finest. Members of Houston's SWAT team and Dive Rescue Team
appeared on scene at the Northshore Regional Medical Center
approximately 2 days post our little incident. Their mission to protect
and secure its assets. While I am well-acquainted with surgical
precision, I had not yet considered the need for military precision
outside of screaming for National Guard, FEMA, and Red Cross
intervention -- not really knowing what their mission should be upon
arrival. Well, our Houston boys arrived and understood the need for
maintaining a perimeter, but more importantly they imbued this mission
with personality, humor and sincerity unmatched in my many police
encounters.
"Pops" -- a moniker that I had given because he reminded me of my
grandfather... He always had a cigar, unlit, in his mouth which he
chewed with slow deliberation... He is the epitome of slow
deliberation. A former Marine sniper, he now has served greater than 20
years as a SWAT member for the Houston police department. In a
humorless environment he was able to bring smiles and tears of laughter
to our post-traumatic psyches. His ethics are unscrupulous... I never
knew a preacher with a gun... who could so easily disarm with a smile.
We have been in the trenches together... an experience I shall likely
never forget.
Ronnie, "Pops'" partner of 30 years. He and LBJ would have been quite
a team. All tar and no feather... He would remain silent for periods
and then at other times would be all mouth -- rivers of laughter were
cried with every joke or encounter. He'd once sat outside of a
courtroom awaiting a trial in a capital case only to encounter the
girlfriend of the perp. She spat contempt, explaining that she would
lie about his whereabouts and be the perfect alibi... He sat and
smiled, "Ma'am, yes ma'am." He shuffled over to the clerk of court and
discovered that there were several warrants out for her arrest -- the
defense attorney explained to the judge that he could not account for
her absence --- another criminal behind bars... Slow deliberation with
charm and a smile.
Their protection in the early days of chaos and uncertainty -- with no
National Guard or military presence -- cannot adequately be praised or
rewarded. Pictures only reveal police garb and AR15s and hide hearts of
gold.
At the time of this attestation, a new "professional" security force
has replaced our Houston team... The newcomers are rigid and fail in
the understanding of to protect and serve -- I harbor no ill will as
they have assumed shoes difficult to fill, but the void is palpable in
our little hospital community... Community is all we have left to try
to maintain.
Why do people not wish to leave New Orleans? Because the community is
what ties us together... "Where y'at?" Lagniappe. "Throw me sumpen
mista." "Ya herd me!" "Aiko, aiko" My spy dawg seen yo' spy dawg
sittin' down on the bayou! And despite all the disharmony reflected in
the news -- we still yearn for protection and the right to collect and
form our own cultural icons... Our Houston brothers understood this,
while our paid security guards currently on duty only understand the
power of the check.
So how do we rebuild? The communities need to be allowed to recollect
as soon as possible. Our troops should not be expending efforts toward
the expulsion of pockets of people... It should assist in maintaining
law and order and the rebuilding of the infrastructure, pure and
simple. My house is dry, my yard needs tending to. I have a bathtub
full of chlorinated water and I can buy another generator for lights
and refrigeration... I continue to pay my monthly note on the house,
and yet I have been denied access to my own property... I am currently
living on the floor of a room in the hospital, with a wife many miles
away. I am not complaining, I love doing what I am doing, but my
inalienable rights seem so untenable.
Why should we rebuild? For the very same reason that the Marshall Plan
maintained the citizenry of Berlin -- to build anew a nation. It is an
honor to be a part, albeit small, in the twenty-first century's own
Marshall plan...
