In April 2008 I went to New Orleans to build houses in Musician's Village for Hurricane Katrina survivors.
I worked with an amazing crew of Habitat for Humanity volunteers
on framing, complete with termite shields.
Next door was a collapsed garage.
Across the street was an empty lot that used to be someone's home
and a guy still living in a trailer 2.5 years after Katrina hit.
Walking down the street to my next worksite
there was dilapidated house
after dilapidated house
and a front end loader.
My second work site was between
a newly constructed bright blue Habitat for Humanity home
and the house across the street
which barely qualifies as a house, much less a home.
This is New Orleans 2.5 years after Katrina hit -- caught between worlds.
It was fun work turning a pile of lumber into what would eventually be
a finished Habitat for Humanity home
but the stories of local Katrina survivors who lost their homes is what stuck with me.
John took me to where the levees broke
where homes washed away
and rubble still remains
2.5 years after Katrina hit.
A family photo album.
An unfinished game of poker.
A favorite beaded purse.
I stood where a child once stood with her favorite blue toy
a princess in a blue dress
before the levees broke.
Foundations remain
of homes that washed away
and turned to rubble.
The houses next door are still standing
and the residents evacuated safely
but their home is gutted.
No more family gatherings around the fireplace
only mud-caked debris
and martini-less martini glasses.
Across the street, the sprinklers are on.
