Midnight Ramble
A few thoughts after a long walk with Bandit the German Shepherd and before going to bed.
I was going to leave it with cats. Yes, cats are cute. Yet I am compelled to sidestep even cats for bigger thoughts.
Such as the realization that this whole New Orleans thing is the most embarassing chapter in our nation's history. Rob and I have seen no groups in these areas except for little church groups or responders like Habitat. We work and drive through ghost towns with no recovery efforts in progress. In addition, these areas are removed from the tourist spots. The TV crews left a long time ago. The President made his speech in Jackson Square months ago, provided the sound byte to the evening news and moved onto the next talking point. The newspapers don't carry anymore stories. The general public -- you and me -- have been assaulted for reasons to not care, blame the city, blame the mayor, blame the stupid bastards who chose to live here, and say such is life and move on because after all, it had the misfortune or fortune (depending on how you want to look at it) of not happening in our back yard.
The reality of this type of thinking, of course, turns a person's sense of the world into a mechanical knot, where the impulse for action and compassion is blocked, leaving only elitism, apathy, inertia, self-importance, all things you cling to for dear life when you're scared shitless. And what's the fear? Come down here and take a look at what is happening in your country.
Eight months later, traffic lights don't work. Broken streetlights make some parts of this city pitch black. And homes sit off their foundation blocking traffic. What is more incredible — there are no officially sanctioned crews sweating it out 24-7 to bring back life. There is no plan. The work is more vigorous on the Dan Ryan Expressway in Chicago during the summer where city workers are at it 24-7, Sun-Sat, months in a row. In New Orleans, you couldn't find a national guardsman or a state government clean up contractor if you tried.
People can blame the broken government down here and the engineering decisions made 100 years ago to build homes next to a levee and so on and so on. But those reasons don't completely forgive the fact that a large portion of this city is being left to rot. It's amazing that in America it takes one hurricane in 24 hours to unmask the ugly side of ourselves we prefer to keep hidden beneath our cheery American demeanor that everything's great and mission accomplished. But we're the people under those masks, shamelessly self-obsessed and doing everything within our power to make sure that's the way it stands.
I see two options to get off that treadmill: get involved and turn off the television.
Our San Diego co-worker on this project said over lunch today that this would never be the case in California because it's one of the wealthiest states we have. Yet in the Gulf Coast, there is ZERO authority in these devastated neighborhoods. None. No one is cleaning up debris, making sure streets are safe, lights are working, coordinating efforts to either bulldoze or restore buildings, etc. You just don't see anyone.
Imagine the four block radius of your house. Now imagine returning home one day and your house is off your foundation and down the street. Every personal possession is ruined and soaked in nasty chemicals. Your insurance starts fiddling with numbers creating the sense that they will indeed screw you. And any sort of official prescence — the police, national guard, army, peace corp — is not around. The politicians you voted draw somber faces, but they offer no concrete solutions for where do you go from here. And the only people living high off the hog off this are the contractors the federal government brings in to perform menial tasks. Then wait eight months and realize nothing changed. Welcome to New Orleans.
You can argue that the role of state or federal government isn't to get involved on a long-term basis and that people need to pull themselves up by the boot strap. But isn't the government supposed to, at the very least, restore some of the basics? Like cleaning up trash or fixing the red lights? If people came down here to see for themselves they'd discover the real narrative of post-Katrina life in New Orleans: Let them eat cake.
I was going to leave it with cats. Yes, cats are cute. Yet I am compelled to sidestep even cats for bigger thoughts.
Such as the realization that this whole New Orleans thing is the most embarassing chapter in our nation's history. Rob and I have seen no groups in these areas except for little church groups or responders like Habitat. We work and drive through ghost towns with no recovery efforts in progress. In addition, these areas are removed from the tourist spots. The TV crews left a long time ago. The President made his speech in Jackson Square months ago, provided the sound byte to the evening news and moved onto the next talking point. The newspapers don't carry anymore stories. The general public -- you and me -- have been assaulted for reasons to not care, blame the city, blame the mayor, blame the stupid bastards who chose to live here, and say such is life and move on because after all, it had the misfortune or fortune (depending on how you want to look at it) of not happening in our back yard.
The reality of this type of thinking, of course, turns a person's sense of the world into a mechanical knot, where the impulse for action and compassion is blocked, leaving only elitism, apathy, inertia, self-importance, all things you cling to for dear life when you're scared shitless. And what's the fear? Come down here and take a look at what is happening in your country.
Eight months later, traffic lights don't work. Broken streetlights make some parts of this city pitch black. And homes sit off their foundation blocking traffic. What is more incredible — there are no officially sanctioned crews sweating it out 24-7 to bring back life. There is no plan. The work is more vigorous on the Dan Ryan Expressway in Chicago during the summer where city workers are at it 24-7, Sun-Sat, months in a row. In New Orleans, you couldn't find a national guardsman or a state government clean up contractor if you tried.
People can blame the broken government down here and the engineering decisions made 100 years ago to build homes next to a levee and so on and so on. But those reasons don't completely forgive the fact that a large portion of this city is being left to rot. It's amazing that in America it takes one hurricane in 24 hours to unmask the ugly side of ourselves we prefer to keep hidden beneath our cheery American demeanor that everything's great and mission accomplished. But we're the people under those masks, shamelessly self-obsessed and doing everything within our power to make sure that's the way it stands.
I see two options to get off that treadmill: get involved and turn off the television.
Our San Diego co-worker on this project said over lunch today that this would never be the case in California because it's one of the wealthiest states we have. Yet in the Gulf Coast, there is ZERO authority in these devastated neighborhoods. None. No one is cleaning up debris, making sure streets are safe, lights are working, coordinating efforts to either bulldoze or restore buildings, etc. You just don't see anyone.
Imagine the four block radius of your house. Now imagine returning home one day and your house is off your foundation and down the street. Every personal possession is ruined and soaked in nasty chemicals. Your insurance starts fiddling with numbers creating the sense that they will indeed screw you. And any sort of official prescence — the police, national guard, army, peace corp — is not around. The politicians you voted draw somber faces, but they offer no concrete solutions for where do you go from here. And the only people living high off the hog off this are the contractors the federal government brings in to perform menial tasks. Then wait eight months and realize nothing changed. Welcome to New Orleans.
You can argue that the role of state or federal government isn't to get involved on a long-term basis and that people need to pull themselves up by the boot strap. But isn't the government supposed to, at the very least, restore some of the basics? Like cleaning up trash or fixing the red lights? If people came down here to see for themselves they'd discover the real narrative of post-Katrina life in New Orleans: Let them eat cake.
posted by burningsun | 12:36 AM
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