Hello Everyone, and Greetings From New Orleans,
Figuratively, I've been sitting here at this screen for the past 5 months, staring at the salutation, trying to find the inspiration to write. Ann and I were here in New Orleans last fall, and I just had nothing to tell you that I hadn't told you many times before. Rather than phoning-in something just to say I'd written to you, I just put it away. I feel badly about that, because even though the story may have become a bit repetitive when I try to write it, that's only because I'm not very good at this.
Here we are, 4-1/2 years past the storm, and 61,000 homes are still officially blighted. If anything, the story here is more urgent and compelling now. Yes, the debris piles are pretty much gone. Yes, a lot of rebuilding has occurred, and many families have come home and life has returned to normal for them. But as you see how much work is left to do all over the city, it becomes clear that time has played a cruel trick on us. It has become so normal to see homes that are not rebuilt that it's sometimes difficult to notice them as the tragedies and sorrow each of them represent. We should be shocked when we see them, but they are so omnipresent that our brains have reserved a place for them in the space where we remember things as they are, and they are no longer unexpected or out-of-place.