9/8/05

Re: My sister's "guest" count: only 8 extra today

Son-in-law's parents and grandmother drove to Houston today and left
very early. They left his dad's truck here -- my sister's driveway
looks like a used car lot!!

Other departures today: my daughter's aunt, uncle, grandmother, the cat
("Stella") that survived in grandmother's garage until yesterday, and
their dog, "Elroy". They went to Hattiesburg, MS to another relative's 
home for the week end. Grandmother, Stella and Elroy will stay there 
for a while. Aunt and uncle will return here Sunday night.

New arrivals: My sister's daughter, husband and 1 year old son will
spend the week end.

Some of those here at my sister's are from Plaquemines Parish.
http://www.plaqueminesparish.com/ -- On the right hand side, click the
link that says: Homeland Security & Emergency Preparedness.
I was living in lower Plaquemines Parish (Buras, LA) for Hurricane 
Camille in 1969... we lost EVERYTHING.

A fun "Care package" arrived today from one of my sisters.

My Louisisna sister's neighbor baked a cake and brought it this evening.

Somebody forwarded this to me today:


From columnist Chris Rose of The Times-Picayune www.nola.com  

Dear America, 

I suppose we should introduce ourselves: We're South Louisiana. We have
arrived on your doorstep on short notice and we apologize for that, but
we never were much for waiting around for invitations. We're not much
on formalities like that.

And we might be staying around your town for a while, enrolling in your
schools and looking for jobs, so we wanted to tell you a few things
about us. We know you didn't ask for this and neither did we, so we're
just going to have to make the best of it.

First of all, we thank you. For your money, your water, your food, your
prayers, your boats and buses and the men and women of your National
Guards, fire departments, hospitals and everyone else who has come to
our rescue. We're a fiercely proud and independent people, and we don't
cotton much to outside interference, but we're not ashamed to accept
help when we need it. And right now, we need it.

Just don't get carried away. For instance, once we get around to
fishing again, don't try to tell us what kind of lures work best in
your waters.

We're not going to listen. We're stubborn that way. You probably
already know that we talk funny and listen to strange music and eat
things you'd probably hire an exterminator to get out of your yard. We
dance even if there's no radio. We drink at funerals. We talk too much
and laugh too loud and live too large and, frankly, we're suspicious of
others who don't.

But we'll try not to judge you while we're in your town. Everybody
loves their home, we know that. But we love South Louisiana with a
ferocity that borders on the pathological. Sometimes we bury our dead
in LSU sweatshirts.

Often we don't make sense. You may wonder why, for instance - if we
could only carry one small bag of belongings with us on our journey to
your state - why in God's name did we bring a pair of shrimp boots? We
can't really explain that. It is what it is. You've probably heard that
many of us stayed behind. As bad as it is, many of us cannot fathom a
life outside of our border, out in that place we call Elsewhere.

The only way you could understand that is if you have been there, and
so many of you have. So you realize that when you strip away all the
craziness and bars and parades and music and architecture and all that
hooey, really, the best thing about where we come from is us. 

We are what made this place a national treasure. We're good people. And
don't be afraid to ask us how to pronounce our names. It happens all
the time.

When you meet us now and you look into our eyes, you will see the
saddest story ever told. Our hearts are broken into a thousand pieces.
But don't pity us. We're gonna make it. We're resilient. After all,
we've been rooting for the Saints for 35 years. That's got to count for
something.

OK, maybe something else you should know is that we make jokes at
inappropriate times. 

But what the hell.

And one more thing: In our part of the country, we're used to having
visitors. It's our way of life.

So when all this is over and we move back home, we will repay to you
the hospitality and generosity of spirit you offer to us in this season
of our despair.

That is our promise. That is our faith.

Go to 9/11/05