Gail Grenier Sweet

A quiet game in the street

New Orleans four and a half months after Hurricane Katrina:  piles of drywall, rags, litter, a freezer, a fridge.  The most amazing scene that stays in my mind is this:  On a side street behind a parked car, four people played a game at a card table set down right where another car might park.  A few friends hung around nearby.  It was as if there was no expectation of traffic, and the street was the most pleasant place to play a game.

 

 

Cajun Adventure, Post-Hurricane Rita
(continued)

I was amazed to find that the style of homes I thought unique to the French Quarter was common all through New Orleans: funky frame houses, some shotgun-style,  with gracious front porches and carved decorations.  Now there was a new decoration:  blue tarps -- stretched tightly over hundreds of roofs.  On many houses, we saw the signs we had read about: an “X” with date of rescuer’s visit, report on bodies or survivors found, report on animals found and rescued. 

photo by anna sweet	photo by anna sweet	photo by anna sweet
New Orleans post-Katrina.	New Orleans post-Katrina.	New Orleans post-Katrina.

 

photo by anna sweet	photo by anna sweet	photo by anna sweet
New Orleans post-Katrina.	New Orleans post-Katrina.	New Orleans post-Katrina.

 

photo by anna sweet	photo by anna sweet	photo by anna sweet
New Orleans post-Katrina.	New Orleans post-Katrina.	New Orleans post-Katrina.

On every street corner were signs advertising clean-up crews and insurance experts.

As we moved out of neighborhoods and toward the French Quarter, traffic got heavy.  I wanted to buy a map of New Orleans.  To do this, I pulled into a tiny strip mall where traffic was literally moving in every direction.  I threw some cash in Anna’s hand and she ran into the Walgreens to buy a map.  While I dodged cars for 20 minutes, she made her purchase and was back to the car before I could reach the exit.  Whew!

Who could forget the name “Tchoupitoulas Street?”  That was the artery I followed to the French Quarter.  We found a public parking lot next to the levee right near Jackson Square.  It was 4:00 pm now, and we wanted to leave around 7:00 so I’d still be up for work at Dolores and Huey’s home tomorrow.  Three hours seemed like a good short visit.

Anna and I wandered over to the French Market, but it was closed – darn!  We encountered the truly dirtiest buskers either of us had ever seen – clothes filthy, wrinkled like old toilet paper, fingernails black.  Joe had told us, “It’s been rough for street performers since the hurricanes.” 

We poked through a few tourist trap gift shops.  One shirt had two hurricane graphics right over the bosom area – one swirl labeled “Rita” and one “Katrina,” with the label “Girls Gone Wild.”  Another shirt highlighted Rita, Katrina and Wilma – “Twisted Sisters.”  One said, “FEMA – Our 4-letter f-word.”  One said “Katrina Recovery Team,” but there was nothing for Rita.  I think Rita and Cajun country have been forgotten.  Again, signs of the fleur de lis were everywhere.

All writing unless otherwise noted is ©Gail Grenier Sweet. All Rights Reserved. Permission to reprint must be granted by the author.
All photos unless otherwise noted are ©Gail Grenier Sweet. All Rights Reserved. Permission to reprint must be granted by the photographer.