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Watching television coverage of what's going on in New Orleans certainly brings things into perspective. And then today I ran across this old photo, which also makes me stop and think and be thankful.
This is my daughter, age one, reading to me. We are very fortunate people, and we are aware of that.
I'm following the situation in New Orleans like everybody else, shocked and distraught and wondering what the hell the disaster preparedness office was doing for the last fifty years. Edited to add: see this five part report from the New Orleans Times-Picayune called "Washing Away." None of what's happening comes as a surprise.
I have spent a good amount of time in New Orleans, because I like the place and I'm writing about its history in this new novel. I like all of it, the gritty parts and the tacky parts and the pretty ones. I've spent a lot of time in archives and libraries. Given the damage and destruction to the lives of thousands of people I am a little embarrassed to be worried about books, but I can't help thinking about the Historic New Orleans collection, about Pitot House (see below), and about a hundred other artifacts that probably won't survive this disaster.
Robyn sent me links to the Wikipedia news articles, which I find a lot more useful than network news, so if you're interested, here they are: general information, and a really frightening bit about the toxic overflow. I'm also scouting around for the best way to send money for the relief effort. At this point some people are estimating that it will be four months before the city is habitable again. There are a lot of low income people in New Orleans and the greater effected area, and they are going to need on-going help. If you have any suggestions, please speak up.
Finally, a repost of part of what I wrote about my New Orleans research trip in Janury of 2004:
I did a lot of research for the trip and made plans, and got pretty much everything in that I needed to do. The re-enactment of the Battle of New Orleans at Chalmette was high on the list, and that was indeed a good thing to see. People who spend so much time and energy doing reenactments are a wonderful resource. Who else knows what it's like to wear woolen underwear all day long? And it's one thing to see a uniform in a color plate, and another to see it on a man walking along the levee. Also, I always forget how loud the artillery fire is. I'm surprised anybody who fought in those battles had any hearing left.
The most instructive and interesting place was the Pitot House, (French Colonial/West Indies in style) built in 1799 on Bayou St. John. It's been carefully restored and is maintained by the Louisiana Historical Society. We were fortunate to be the only people touring that morning, which meant I could ask all the questions I usually hold back for fear of slowing things down too much or boring less inquisitive types. Kathy Collins (our guide) was one of the best informed and most helpful people I have ever run across at a historic house. We got into such an interesting conversation that I took up a good hunk of her morning.
The house itself is the kind of place historical novelists are always looking for, with an atmosphere that is so strong that you can -- for a few moments -- get the sense that you are no longer in your own time. The furnishings, the way the light falls, the air itself -- everything comes together in a very powerful way that allows the imagination to take over. I'm going to use the Pitot House as one of my settings in this novel. I will make some changes, of course, but then I will set my characters loose in its rooms. Kathy was kind enough to share the names of some of her ancestors with me, and I may well end up using them, as well: Jean Baptiste Baudreau dit Graveline is especially nice, but from Kathy I also found out more about the Pelican Girls (also called Cassette Girls).
In the early 1700s, the first families and young women came from France to the new French colony at what is now Mobile, Alabama. Many of the girls came from Parisian religious communities, and they were all approved first by the bishop (who made sure they were virtuous, but also hard workers). These young women -- some no more than fifteen-- married the French Marines who were already stationed at the colony. Prime material for a historical novel, if anybody's looking.
