OUR WOMAN IN NEW ORLEANS
Guest Blogger Becky Hears from a Friend

Earlier today, my wife heard from the one friend that we knew for sure had stayed in the city before Katrina came. Here's the lowdown:

I Heard From My Friend in New Orleans Today

About eight o’clock this morning, while I was outside doing yard work, I could hear my cell phone ringing. When I retrieved my message, it was from my friend Debbie, who called to say that she was fine.

I met Debbie a little over a month ago, via the internet. After getting acquainted by email, I drove to New Orleans for the day to meet her in person. We went to a museum, a commie bookstore and ate a falafel sandwich on Frenchman Street. I was delighted to have made an interesting new acquaintance from my generation and with many similar interests. She’s originally from San Francisco, and lives in the Bywater neighborhood, which is only a mile or two from the French Quarter if one follows the river to the East. Debbie is 56, and a bona-fide San Francisco hippie who was there for the summer of love. She lives in NOLA with no air conditioning. She works six part time jobs, doing everything from paralegal work to jewelry making. She’s a breast cancer survivor, and was divorced about a year ago from her 20-years-younger musician husband. A wacky, fun, cool chick.

I knew she did not intend to evacuate. Her 86 year old stepfather lives with her part time, and is there with her now. She also has six cats, a young son and wife who live in the back house, and a car with no air conditioning. Her reasoning was that she’d rather hunker down for the storm than try to transport her family.

Needless to say, I’ve been concerned about her. I wrote her an email Tuesday night when we got back, simply saying that I hoped she got out and if she didn’t I hoped she was ok and to let me know if she needed any help. I decided against trying to call her cell phone, thinking that if it was working, she needed it for more important communiqués.

Listening to her message, I found out that she had some roof damage, but in general her house was ok. She was scared when the water started to rise, but flooding stopped one block short of her house. She said that the “lawlessness (was) fucking intense”, but guards were finally starting to show up. She mentioned her six cats, and signed off by saying “when this is all over and I get electricity back in a week or two, we should make plans to do something”.

I had to call, even if only to say that I was fairly certain it would be more than a week or two before she had power restored, and she should consider leaving, and could come here if needed.

She was in good spirits on the phone. She told me that everyone was fine, she had plenty of supplies, and was “having a ball”. She told of shots being fired constantly, and the “crackers” of the neighborhood: armed, patrolling and trying to prevent looting of abandoned houses. To the best of my knowledge, “cracker” is a derogatory name for white people, but I got the sense she meant the tougher young people who were brave enough to hit the streets. She said the crackers had found food and water in ruined stores, and were taking requests from neighbors for specific needs. They brought her more water, and her stepdad a bottle of scotch. Another day, they brought her a bottle of wine because it was her birthday. They brought her a generator, but she hasn’t been using it. It would make noise, and someone with bad intentions might get ideas. The man across the street is running his generator, though, and is charging cell phones for whoever asks.

She told of an elderly woman who went into a store with a flashlight looking for food, and was killed. Another neighbor was walking his dog and was shot in the face; it’s not clear why. The only news source she has is one radio station, and the word from the street.

She had to hang up because her “family was about to try to convince (her) to leave.” I’m betting she stays, at least for now.

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