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

Sent: Wednesday, September 21, 2005, three weeks after Katrina

Monday marked three weeks since Hurricane Katrina made landfall on the Gulf Coast...and we have a new horrible storm, Rita, that is moving through the Gulf of Mexico. Again, I’d like to share with you what I personally know has happened in Katrina’s aftermath. I write this from my home in Metairie, which as I told you in my last note suffered little damage. I’m not really supposed to be here, as the phased re-opening of Jefferson Parish does not include my zip code yet. But I’m here working with the City of New Orleans’ Health Department on their plan to provide needed medical services as residents are returning to New Orleans. The pass that I picked up in Baton Rouge on my way in gave me access to New Orleans, beginning yesterday, and I have had a chance to drive a little bit of the city. More about our individual situations later, but let me begin by giving you my impressions of the New Orleans area as of right now. (I offer specific landmarks for those of you who are from New Orleans and reading this in exile.)

JEFFERSON PARISH: I drove into the city on I-10, coming from Baton Rouge. The rail line that runs parallel with the interstate as you approach the western part of greater New Orleans (Kenner), which was so badly covered with debris and had major sections that had been compromised by storm surge when I returned 11 days ago was repaired -- had you not known about the storm, you would never know that there had been a problem. The gravel underpinnings of the track are neatly graded and the tracks are clear.

Coming in through Kenner, you can see substantial damage to commercial properties that line the interstate on the south, and what seems to be primarily roof damage to the north of the interstate on both commercial and residential properties. The damage in this area, right along the interstate appears to be primarily, if not solely, wind damage, rather than damage from rising water. One of the more extreme examples: a two-story mini-storage area on the south of the interstate looks as though someone came along and ripped the sides off the building, exposing the contents of each storage area.

Both sides of the interstate coming into the city showed substantial wind damage as I continued inwards. I stopped briefly at my house on the way into town to learn that I have power, drinkable water, cable that works sporadically, and no telephone service yet. I found, in the back of my house, a section of downspout that we quickly determined was a missing section from the roof area in the front of my neighbor’s home, so we brought it out and left it next to the remaining section for her repair workers to find.

ORLEANS PARISH: As we moved into New Orleans itself, we found a highly visible and substantial military presence, in addition to highly visible New Orleans Police Department presence. In the last couple of days, a command center has been assembled in the Hyatt Hotel across from the Superdome. You can only enter the Hyatt from Loyola Avenue today and no one is allowed past the 3rd floor except people repairing the hotel. The third floor holds meeting rooms and the ballroom, which has been transformed into the emergency operations center.

Before going in, we needed to have not only the pass that I had secured in Baton Rouge that gave us access to the city, but personal credentials showing what our business was in the Hyatt. The person who had our passes had moved from that location to a building near Touro Hospital, so we were to drive there to meet her. Before doing that, we got permission to retrieve a vehicle belonging to one of my two passengers, which was in the Superdome parking lot. I had to get permission to enter, then pass two sets of guards who radioed to each other that it was OK for me to enter. Driving into that underground parking lot with no overhead lights was scary, to say the least. But we found the car, undamaged, and my passengers drove out in that vehicle. Although it was difficult to see, I saw no signs of looting in the cars parked under the Dome, despite the many rumors that every car parked there had been looted.

We next drove down Howard Avenue to Lee Circle, then down St. Charles Avenue for a while, then to Prytania until we got to Touro. Waiting on the street for our contact to arrive, we were questioned by military personnel about what we were doing there, and our I.D.s were checked to confirm that we belonged there. (This was, actually, comforting -- knowing that there is a diligent effort to ensure that the people in the city really belong there and are there with good intent.) After getting our credentials, we then drove further on St. Charles, towards the Tulane University area. I had heard that there were terrible losses of the oaks along St. Charles Avenue and was pleasantly surprised to see most of the trees still standing. There were a LOT of big limbs down, and some of the large oaks were also down...but nearly what I expected to see, based on reports I’d heard. I’d also been expecting an awful smell in the air, but what I smelled was closer to the smell of disinfectant than anything else -- perhaps part of the clean-up??

I was able to drive around fairly freely and saw a LOT of trees down, still MANY power lines down, which is clearly why residents are not being allowed back into much of the city yet. The water is gone from the parts of New Orleans that I have seen so far...although I understand that the 9th ward still has water and St. Bernard parish is predicted to have water until October, based on the pumping process. There was clear evidence of high water in some areas...north of Claiborne around Jefferson, Nashville and Napoleon...including a boat in the neutral ground of Claiborne right around Nashville! Many of the cars that were parked on the neutral ground here to be on higher ground showed signs of water up to the dash board.

I’ve talked to several people with homes in New Orleans East -- all spoke of substantial water having been in their homes and significant clean-up needed -- less wind damage in this area, though, it seems.

With all this evidence of the storm, I was again astounded at how much had already been done in terms of clean-up. All roads were passable.

Tuesday morning I had a series of meetings in Algiers, so I also have some first-hand knowledge of the conditions there -- again, many trees down, but little evidence of standing water in the neighborhoods that I went through. And, again, amazing clean-up that has already occurred.

MISSISSIPPI GULF COAST: My knowledge here is second-hand, but quite reliable. I’m told that significant areas of the coast are decimated. One anecdote came from a friend who was searching for his grandmother’s home to assess damage. A key landmark was a two-story church that had withstood Hurricane Camille, the previous measuring stick for bad hurricanes in this area. The church, which had concrete walls, is gone. When I say "gone", I mean the church is not there, the concrete slab on which the church stood is gone, and there is no rubble. It’s gone. I’m told that much of Waveland is gone. A railroad track runs parallel with the Gulf of Mexico about ½ mile inland from Pass Christian to Biloxi. The military has erected barbed wire barricades at the tracks and will not allow anyone that isn’t a resident past -- there’s astounding damage in this area and little remains, although I’m told that some homes in the area did survive, just as they did with Camille.

THE EMERGENCY OPERATIONS CENTER: Anyone who is criticizing the response of various entities to this storm should spend 30 minutes in this center. Focused only on Orleans Parish, there are representatives from federal, state and local government who are seated at tables based on their field. For example, I am seated at the Health and Human Services table, along with representatives from the CDC, state health agencies and other local entities, as well as a team of people who have been through this process before responding to other emergency situations who have, quite unbelievably, volunteered to work with us through this critical time.

The goal is to have key people from every participating group in the same room, working through the complex, inter-related aspects of getting each neighborhood of the city clean and safe for residents to return and live as soon as possible. It’s quite amazing. That’s not to say that turf issues and mistakes don’t appear -- it would be crazy to assume that everything will go smoothly and that everyone will work together easily. But this environment maximizes the chance of this happening successfully. I’ve talked to a lot of people to find out where they are from and why they are here -- the stories are endless, including police and firemen from New York, returning the kindness that they experienced from Louisiana following September 11.

AWAY FROM NEW ORLEANS: I’ve seen an amazing outpouring of support, for me and for other evacuees. Some examples... The United Way in central Louisiana realized that they didn’t have enough people to help the evacuees in the area (probably 2/3 are staying in private homes, not public shelters). So they put out a call for evacuees who might be interested in temporary employment to help with matching other evacuees with services and resources they need to move through this time. A Canadian billionaire has bought up land in several communities and is donating mobile homes that can temporarily house evacuees in something that more closely resembles a place of their own, until they can return or settle into more permanent housing.

Briefly, about the rest of the people that I’ve written about earlier. Corky’s made several trips back to his home, which was flooded and had several big trees on (and through) the roof. Each trip seems to help him deal better with the devastation, and to aid him in building a plan about what comes next. He’s currently in Washington with a contingent of people from the coast, talking to legislators about what needs to be done to address the devastated fishing industry all along the Gulf Coast. Todd is looking for specific work that will allow him to help in the recovery. Margaret has heard from her employer and awaits their return to the city...she still hasn’t had access to her home -- although I managed to drive by her house and take some pictures...and I hope to get back by later to take care of a few small things for her before I leave town again -- probably evacuating in the face of another possible storm.

Random Recipe: : Beef Tenderloin with Balsalmic Port Reduction

New Orleans will be rebuilt.

But it will not be rebuilt by the mayor, the governor, or the president.

Not by the City Council, the State Legislature, or the one levee board.

Not by corporations, insurance companies, or tourists.

Not by FEMA, The Corps of Engineers, or even by billions in federal aid.

It will be rebuilt by the people.

It will be rebuilt by hands that aren’t afraid to get dirty.

By the hands of New Orleans natives, transplants, and visitors.

By hands of all colors, backgrounds, and religions.

It will be rebuilt by hands covered in grit, soaked in sweat, calloused by stubbornness— a brick at a time, a street at a time, a neighborhood at a time.

The With These Hands project is a monument to the hands that will rebuild New Orleans.

Please read their stories.

And please add your own.

New York is a perpetual construction site. I pass by three in the short two block walk to the subway. As I write this, I look out of my window on a hole in the ground across the street. This will no doubt eventually become an apartment complex of some sort, which is a trade up aesthetically from the glass manufacturer that previously inhabited the shabby warehouse on this plot of land across the street from my humble apartment. One day the cranes came in and gingerly knocked down the structure, and now they're back for building.

The view from my window

This city seems to reinvent itself every ten years or so. Blocks that were familiar to you can become wholly unrecognizable with the revolving door of businesses coming and going . It's not as dramatic in the outer boroughs, but in Manhattan, a restaurant older than 5 years becomes the exception, a bar of equal age might as well call itself an institution. Maybe it's a fear of standing still? Maybe it's competition? Maybe it's just poor planning. I don't know. There's never a shortage of new places to go. Unfortunately, to me it seems soon they'll be a shortage of old places to go.

Depending on who you talk to, gentrification can be lauded as the great and wonderful neighborhood saver, raising property value and rejuvenating the has-been and once-was, a sign of progress and indicator of a healthy economy. On the other hand, gentrification can be denounced as a scourge on the blue-collar, a scheme by the wealthy to justify price hiking and corporate infiltration, pushing people out of their own neighborhoods and businesses.

The neighborhood where I now live in Brooklyn is preparing for some major growth brought on by the approval of a few substantial real estate ventures. For better or worse, developers plan to erect luxury high-rise apartment buildings along the banks of the East river here in Greenpoint, which has traditionally been a quiet and largely Polish area. Plans will also include the addition of a waterfront park and promenade.

The plans were met with opposition from a few groups hoping that the current zoning, including a four-story height limit for buildings in the area, would keep the proposed high-rises from going up. They also expressed concern that a rise in cost of living would drive families and long-time residents out of their neighborhood. In the end, new zoning was drawn up and the plans were approved.

As of now, warehouses and factories, many of which are inoperable and/or abandoned, line the waterfront. Two of these recently burned down in spectacular fashion as I got a first-hand glimpse of one day while running errands.

Some of these buildings have historic importance, some have achieved a beautiful state of decay, and for this reason, I'm reminded of New Orleans.

See the excerpt below, quoted from an unnamed activist for North Brooklyn:

...in order to maintain the good buildings and the elements of the neighborhood that are salvageable, strategic (mixed-use/residential) redevelopment is exactly what the area needs. Shadiness tends to occur more when property is underutilized, undervalued, and underappreciated.

We should, while holding our breath for radical social reform, do what we can to make sure that the tools that are in place for positive urban development and design are used, and agitate and argue for the sorts of social, political and legal reform that emphasize the values that we as Brooklynites want our built environment to reflect. My wish list is simple. Support historic preservation. Don't do it later. Do it now before we lose more irreplaceable landmarks. Also demand good urban design. If we can't prevent people from being burnt out of their homes, let's see if we can't prevent them from being priced out. Lobby for inclusive housing policies.

To me, this sounds very similar to the situation in NOLA. Don't get me wrong, I'm not equating a localized building fire to Katrina, but rather trying to point out that the challenges of urban redevelopment facing New Orleans are the same in most major cities. Issues of inclusive housing, building salvation/revitalization, and social reform all come into play, and success lies in a balanced approach that makes room for the old while building new and keeping an eye on the future.

New Orleans has always recognized the historical significance of its architecture, buildings, and neighborhoods while playing an active role in preserving the unique culture born from such surroundings. New York would do well to take a lesson from her, but up here, preservation usually takes a back seat to progress, and the new often washes away the old.

But buildings are just buildings. Remembering the past is all fine and good, but there comes a point where a city must adapt in order to be viable. New Orleans has always been a bit slow on the uptake, a fact which for many of us is the very reason it is held so dear. That stubborn refusal to get with the times is enchanting, but it also helps to explain why the city's recovery is faltering. Urban planning was not often discussed in New Orleans prior to a year ago because there just wasn't that much being planned. The city seemed to repel new investment as if it was bad mojo, and just maintaining the status quo became the goal. Now, so much has been said over the past year about grand scheme planning, but when it comes down to it, the rebuilding is taking place house by house. It's certainly not the fastest way, but for now it might be the best way.
___________

I'm happy with my Brooklyn neighborhood the way it is, but I understand the need for change. I'm not looking forward to the possibility of an even higher cost of living as a result of the development, but I also wouldn't mind seeing underutilized property turn into a neighborhood asset. I wouldn't mind biking throguh a park, maybe having a cold one at a bar next to the water. And if I'm priced out, I might have to move on. What are you gonna do? The Big Wheel keeps on turning.

Back to the hole in the lot across the street...You would think that pile-driving at five in the morning would be some sort of code violation. Maybe the ground is softer when it's early? Oh well, the early bird gets the worm, and I get a nap in the afternoon.

-Ben Eberle