Losing hope

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Yesterday, I was feeling like we’d dodged something horrible. Now I’m not so sure.

Last night, I stayed up late watching CNN, hoping for more information on the break in the levee at the 17th street canal – two blocks long. Two blocks long of letting Lake Ponchartrain into the city. All reports pointed to water rising in New Orleans. I debated staying up until daylight hit New Orleans, in hopes of getting more accurate information and maybe some visual indications. But rationale won out and I went to sleep, only to dream of torrents of water sweeping through New Orleans.

Now, the next morning, I don’t feel significantly more informed. Except that the levee break has been confirmed, without the solution I was hoping to hear about. And I’ve heard the weariness and sadness in the Mayor’s voice as he lists all the issues going on.

And one of the scariest indications that virtually every belonging of my family’s (including those of Sam’s and mine, stored at my parent’s house) is destroyed is a headline from a local television station:
Jeff Parish* President. Residents will probably be allowed back in town in a week, with identification only, but only to get essentials and clothing. You will then be asked to leave and not come back for one month.

Yes, I know the important part is that my family and friends are okay. But how do you rebuild from such destruction?

The neighboring parish, or county, as the rest of the country calls them

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