[Original post: September 3, 2005]
Yesterday I visited one of the shelters in Marksville, and interviewed the guy who's trying to run things there - his name is Roland Scallan. I'll post the interview tomorrow (and will try to post a picture as well from the shelter). Roland is completely exhausted; he broke down crying a couple of times while I was talking to him. There are 550 sleeping there in a disused garment factory (with no showers): all the aid so far, from the cots to the food to toiletries and clothes, is donated by the community. It's not the only shelter in Marksville - there are about 400 people sleeping at the casino. This is a town of just 5500 in
Avoyelles Parish, one of the poorest in Louisiana.
I went to the shelter after doing a phone interview with Curtis Sittenfeld (very nice person: read her book): the interview was supposed to take place last Sunday, but we were stuck somewhere in Mississippi at the time. Surreal juxtaposition - talking to an author about New England private schools then driving out to a shelter in sweltering central Louisiana.
Those of you asking about our good family friends, Rebecca and Randall Lewis: they're still in a hotel in Dallas, spending money they don't have, like everyone else, but hopefully will be moving back to Louisiana soon. Deanna Schmidt, Becky's sister, is in nearby Alexandria, along with Baby Joy and family. Becky may come to Marksville and try to rent a house for a few months so the children can go to school. Last time I spoke to Becky, she hadn't heard from Lester or Robbie, who are both in the Louisiana National Guard. Big Joy is in Houston, and so is Deanna's daughter, Stacy. I haven't heard about Doug and Jill yet.
As for us, we spent last night sleeping in a Winnebago in Shreveport, near the Texas border. (It's not quite a Barbie camper, but I was excited.) We left our friends, Sarah and Joe, in a PJ's coffee house waiting for Sarah's mother to drive in from Dallas. Tonight we're on the Cane river just outside Natchitoches, staying with more family of family of friends, if that makes sense. (Kevin: if you're reading this, it's your aunt's house.) Everyone has been incredibly hospitable and kind. Nearly everyone around here has taken in someone from the New Orleans area.
Today has been hard, and I'm not sure why - perhaps the terrible frustration with what we're reading in the newspaper and seeing on television, too many people still living in despair and squalor in the city. It's good to know our mayor, Ray Nagin,is making some noise. He's an immensely charismatic man. We saw him once in the Canal Place shopping center, the one that's currently on fire. I'm glad he hasn't left the city, choosing to stay while the rest of local government moves to Baton Rouge. The pictures of the elderly lying on the baggage carousel at Louis Armstrong airport, or the tanks rolling through downtown while people line up still waiting to be evacuated, make me feel utterly sick at heart. The hurricane passed us on Monday. Today is Saturday. There are still people rotting in the Superdome and the Convention Center.
Part of me is desperate to go home and see our house and our neighborhood. Part of me wants to steal the Winnebago and drive west, as though leaving all this behind will somehow make it unreal. More unreal than it already is. Like that line from Withnail and I: we've gone on holiday by mistake.
Please excuse my probably confused mix of American and English spelling. Tulane has officially canceled the semester now, and for those of you trying to reach me at my Tulane e-mail address, it isn't working at the moment.
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