The following is an email that became the chronicle of Nancy Burris Perret. The first in a series of detailed, poignant accounting is what follows.

Sent: Friday, September 02, 2005 1:23 PM
Subject: Some information following Katrina

With all the national and international news about Katrina filling the airwaves, I wanted to give you each a personal account. First, I am safe, having evacuated the city before the storm. (Actually, I left to do some work in central Louisiana on Friday, expecting to return the next day, then learned the storm was imminent, so stayed here.) I am staying in a home owned by dear friends and am surrounded by caring people who are helping us all make the best of a terrible situation. There is a revolving door of people staying with us, but the core group is four people, with five homes among us that I will tell you of later.

LOUISIANA: While there are certainly an unfathomable number of stories of horror, I want to tell you what I have seen and what I know -- stories that have not made it to the national news. A friend who lives about 1/2 mile from where I am staying ("Scottie" Scott of Cottonport, Louisiana) heard on the local news that they were asking anyone with a flatboat to come to southeast Louisiana to help with rescue efforts. He said it was the most organized operation he'd ever seen: miles of ambulances and buses lined up along the interstate, waiting to transport people away from the disaster. Buses carry as many as they can away from gathering points as far as they can drive, transferred to small boats (manned primarily by volunteers, like Scottie) who bring them across the flooded parts of the interstate, then re-loaded into buses or ambulances (depending on need) and carried to safe havens. As of yesterday (Thursday Sept.1) at 10:00 AM, 70 buses were already either in Houston or on the way there. The process continues. Throughout Scottie's time there, he watched a non-stop process of two helicopters at a time landing on the interstate, dropping off rescued passengers and taking off -- to be immediately replaced by two more helicopters . It is an incredible, tedious, but well-functioning process. There are just a LOT of people.

Prior to the storm's hitting, it was estimated that 100,000 people stayed in the city of New Orleans, not heeding the mandatory evacuation order -- sadly, many because they did not have the resources to leave. Others, it seems, stayed with the intent of looting the deserted city -- a criminal element that has given New Orleans the current "honor" of being the murder capitol of the US. (ed's note - the city lost this dubious "honor" after 1994) There are many people who now are looting for food and water and other necessities of life. The national guard and other protectors are allowing this to happen without incident. Those who are looting televisions, etc. from stores and people's homes are not treated in the same way, although, clearly there have not been enough enforcement officers on site to police the entire city.

Hospital evacuations continue -- although the process is also slow, and there are situations becoming more and more desperate. The process is as follows: a coordinating group is talking with each hospital (with difficulty, because phone service is essentially gone), learning of the individual needs of each patient and identifying appropriate hospitals for them to be moved to (for example, a recent heart-surgery patient needs to be in a cardiac care unit), and then transporting them to these hospitals, who are waiting to receive them across the state.

The state-wide 2-1-1 network (works like 911, but for information about social services) is being re-routed to other parts of the state, so that people can call from wherever they are to get needed services.

A hotline has been established for parents to enroll children into school wherever they are, and for displaced teachers to sign up to teach in the city where they have re-located.

The United Way is developing a response plan for the enormous needs that will shortly emerge, once people are out of harm's way and trying to figure out how to put their lives back together.

A new website has emerged: www.shareyourhome.org for people who are willing to open their homes to strangers for an undetermined amount of time.

The levee breaks (there are currently three) have different impacts. There is an aerial shot that has been frequently broadcast showing two nearby breaches in the levee with water streaming through. Look closely though, and you will see that the water is flowing OUT of flooded area and IN to the canal...taking flooding waters OUT of the problem area. The Army Corps of Engineers has said that, eventually, the water flow will stop being a help -- and that they will repair that breach at that time. The third break is the 17th Street canal, which is a horrible problem, compounding the damage of the storm and flooding much of New Orleans proper. They have been working around the clock to repair this breach, but it is devastating areas that might well have weathered the storm itself.

There are certainly an abundance of horror stories and drama yet to unfold. The media is doing a fine job of telling those, and in many cases magnifying the story. I don't need to dwell on that...

When you consider that 1.2 million people were directly impacted by this storm in the New Orleans area alone, you can begin to get your arms around the magnitude of the effort. That doesn't count the people in St. Bernard, Plaquemines, St. Tammany and several other parishes (same as counties), nor does it include the Gulf coast of Mississippi and Alabama.

MISSISSIPPI: I know less about this, but here's what I know. The Gulf Coast has been ravaged -- from one end of the Mississippi coast to the other, there is little remaining in the area closest to the shore. Phone service is beginning to be restored, but there are not enough resources available there, including water, food and gasoline. Looting is occurring.

PERSONALLY: From reports I've gotten from people who stayed, I know my home is in reasonably good shape, and we are hearing that we may be able to go in starting Monday of next week to survey damage, take precautionary measures to protect the homes from additional damage, take what we absolutely need, and leave again for about a month...perhaps longer. I live in Metairie, which is on the OTHER side of the breached levee at 17th Street. Corky had two places -- his apartment in Gulfport, Mississippi is now a concrete slab...gone completely. His home is in eastern Slidell, Louisiana. He knows he has a roof, but also knows that the neighbor across the canal from his home had waist deep water...and Corky's home is substantially lower than that house, so suspects water at least throughout the first floor, perhaps higher. His neighbors across the street, who have a one-story home, stayed through the storm at last report. No one has been able to reach them. The water has subsided and he is on his way as I write this with three other men to try to get access to his home, remove the tree that lies across the roof, assess damage, and salvage what he can. He will be returning here this evening. He has several employees who are unaccounted for at this writing. Todd lives in New Orleans proper, in a house that is relatively high by New Orleans standards. He likely had no flooding in his home from the storm itself but probably does now, because of the levee breach. He is quite concerned about looting, but has no way of knowing the situation right now. His employer (a small business owner) stayed and has defended his home three times thus far, having to shoot at looters who were trying to break in to his home. Todd has no income at this time and will be looking for work here or in other cities during the 3-4 months that is currently estimated to be the time before he will be allowed access to his home. Margaret lives in an area of New Orleans that has alternatively been reported as faring reasonably well and being flooded -- we don't know for certain at this time. She expects water in her first floor and hopes that it doesn't go beyond that. She, also, will be looking for work while she is here. We all have friends that we have yet to be able to reach -- some of whom are on this distribution list. For those of you who are also in this same situation, please let me know how you have fared. Getting word from others is a part of trying to have some sense of hope, connection and normalcy in a time that is anything but. For those of you in other parts of the country and world, who are struggling to know what to do, I could offer a couple of thoughts:

1) Connections are incredibly important right now, but also difficult. Many do not have telephone access, much less internet, although I expect that in the coming weeks this will improve. Email, quite honestly, is a good method of communicating, because, at least for me, lets me respond when I can. Phone calls are wonderfully cathartic, but also need to be kept short because so many people are trying to reach people that haven't been located yet, so if you choose to call, try to be brief.

2) Relief efforts are staggering, and will continue in waves: rescuing the living and giving them food, shelter and clothing, recovering the dead (the numbers will likely be staggering...they will take your breath away, I am certain (1,836 by some reports - ed's note), then helping people find more permanent homes, employment, etc. The Red Cross is an amazing charity that will sorely be taxed in the coming weeks. The United Way can distribute funds to many charities to meet the changing needs of the millions of displaced people. Or if you have a charity of choice that does anything from emergency rescue to grief counseling to job placement -- consider giving in that way.

3) Spread the stories of quiet heroism and hope that will doubtless emerge from this storm -- the media will do a fine job of spreading the bad news. There are desperate situations still, and additional resources are needed as soon as possible to keep those still there safe. But the good stories will also give others hope of a future beyond this immense disaster.

Stay safe and keep your loved ones close...they are the essence of our lives.

Random Recipe: : Red Snapper in a Port Reduction (for you Gulf Coasters)

On the sixth day of an electrical blackout in Queens, one of the five boroughs in New York City, recently re-elected mayor Michael C. Bloomberg gave a press release in the effected area of the city. The black out was apparently the effect of a wilting heat wave endured by NYC during the early part of the week of July 17th 2006. Fifteen to twenty thousand customers of Consolidated Edison Power Company (translated to one hundred thousand residents) are without power. The press release was warranted as a long term black out can be dangerous as well as inconvenient.

The mayor’s speech was delivered on July 22 around 9:30am. It consisted of a report given to him by Consolidated Edison. The mayor described the process by which ConEd was attempting to recover the electrical network. He said that the power company had repaired service to a number of areas originally downed by the failure, but went on to disclose setbacks caused by the rain storm of July 21st and the fact that ConEd has not yet discovered the true nature of the problem. Next, he subtly put ConEd on notice stating that he would further disclose updates on the blackout based on “an updated report promised to him” by the middle of the week from ConEd execs. Though he was delivering discouraging news, the mayor remains a realist. “It gets done when it gets done.”

Bloomberg began to wrap up by giving credit to his agencies and associates for the hard work they were doing. He shared the solution finding ideas of others; he thanked the tradesmen of ConEd and the volunteers of the Red Cross who were delivering water and fresh fruit to those whose refrigerators were unusable and whose residences were temporarily not up to snuff. He concluded with a briefing on what he called the “macro” view. Crime was down due to a heightened NYPD presence. There have been fewer calls to the FDNY and NY EMS.

The magnitude of this electrical blackout is pretty meager compared to the almost one year old devastation of Hurricane Katrina to New Orleans and the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Bloomberg was not calling on the Feds to come to his aid, he was not running for re-election. He was not trying to convince anybody of anything. He was a civic leader in-the-know giving his perception on a pressing problem that had not yet been solved. He put forth faith in his team, but gave no false hope or expiration date on the electrical trouble. He simply said he had his best men on it and “it gets done when it gets done.”

New Orleans mayor C. Ray Nagin used to show up on the news an awful lot. During the crises we saw his best and worst side. The beleaguered mayor at first seemed a leader, someone to stand behind; but then he showed us that the only leaders during the crisis and the recovery of New Orleans were ourselves. During the fateful days, the critical beginning of our end, Nagin was on TV crying out for aid. It is questionable whether or not he received aid worthy of his pleas.

The next time we can collectively recall Nagin’s considerable airtime he was running for re-election. Today, ten months after the storm, progress reports (i.e. press releases) from the office of the mayor of New Orleans are few and far between. This is entirely unacceptable.

Tell us, Mr. Nagin, of your setbacks, tell us of your tribulations. Plenty of us want to help. Further, inspire us with reports on actual progress. Tell us that a school or a hospital is reopening. Tell us that a new daycare center, coffee shop, plumbing supply warehouse is open. Tell us a permanent feature of our great city is gone forever. Tell us that your aim is to implement a neighborhood plan and that you are breaking ground in September. Tell us you didn’t get the financing you were after, but you’ve set your sights on an alternate source. Tell us there is no alternate source. Tell us you’re fighting an uphill battle with crime resurgence, but that you hope to raise the salaries of the men in blue. Tell us good, bad, consequential, optimistic, disheartening, innovative, encouraging, shameful, visionary. Tell us anything and everything. Tell us, as a civic leader in-the-know, giving your perception on a pressing problem that had not yet been solved what you see as good and bad. We will respond.

On a Spring Saturday in April, I accompanied a few friends to the R Bar in the Marigny for Miller High Lifes and free crawfish. Outside, it was the kind of day that suggested we might need a sweater that night; the hot sun hinted at weather soon to come. The cave-like darkness of the New Orleans dive contrasted with the glare streaming through the open door.

Photo: Dan Schultz

Various barflys mulled around; a girl typed on her computer at the bar. Tough looking guys played pool. The condom jar outside of the bathrooms was empty. All around everyone acknowledged one another with a nod or half smile, since we bore in common the Saturday afternoon and the manner in which we had chosen to spend it, with early booze.

When our crawfish had been eaten we decided to walk a bit. Outside, as I filled a plastic to go cup, a large one-eyed man, leaning on a pole in front, motioned to me. He introduced himself as Ronnie, before leaning in for a polite New Orleans-style cheek kiss. Somehow I semi-obliged, making fake contact like snobby people; I guess I can’t kick the habit. He had long wavy white hair and tattoos on his arm under heavy amounts of blond fuzz. He explained to me all about the house he and his crew were working on, pointing it out down the street. “You know what dental work is?” he asked. Our conversation until then had been amusing and I didn’t want it to veer toward the technical, so I lied and said yes. He seemed to forget what was supposed to come after that. Instead he leaned in; his face got a bit too close. I feared that the polite cheeker from before would become an unfortunate, sloppy mess, so I took a step back, shoulders slightly bent.

My friends beckoned looking like they had waited long enough and I began to walk away. I turned to say, “Nice to meet you.” Ronnie called after me in a fast-paced Southern accent: “Hey, you married, separated, divorced or single? And do you mess around?” I smiled and let out a slight cackle, but kept walking. “You didn’t answer my question,” Ronnie yelled.

“See you later” I replied as we walked down Royal Street.

Bikes, cars, and dog-walkers passed on Esplanade. “Hey,” somebody in the group said, as I slipped my sunglasses back on, “Let’s go to Lafitte’s.”

“Oldest bar in the country,” someone else reminded.