In the summer after my senior year of high school the Grateful Dead came to play at Pittsburgh's Three Rivers Stadium. I didn't know much about them besides the "Deadhead" ethos and radio hits like "Truckin'" and "Uncle John's Band," but the guy I liked at the time was going to the concert. So I spontaneously bought a ticket, you know how it goes. But, this frivolous decision gained a strange significance, as Jerry Garcia died two months later.
In July of 2005, I was in New Orleans for my best friend's bachelorette vacation. From Beignets at Caf?© Du Monde in the morning to Pat O'Brians' Hurricanes at night, we were the ultimate tourists. Two months after our departure, Hurricane Katrina devastated the city, killing 1,300 people, displacing over 200,000 more and closing thousands of businesses.
Both events - so different in scale - served to channel heartbreak toward contemplation. A different appreciation of music emerged from the live performance and loss. In the same way, my recent and direct experience in the South has led me to an understanding of the character and resilience of New Orleans' citizens, as well as the city's vibrancy. New Orleans is not just the French Quarter with to-go cups and ghost tours. It is a distinct community and lively metropolis with industries from shipbuilding to biotechnology, universities including the University of New Orleans, Tulane, and Xavier, and an immense culture from Cajun cuisine to Zydeco and jazz.
I was given the opportunity to volunteer at Greater New Orleans, Inc. (GNO, Inc.) over my spring break from Tufts, where I am a Masters Candidate in Urban and Environmental Policy and Planning. I was being sponsored by the International Economic Development Council (IEDC), which has created an Economic Recovery Volunteer Program to assist businesses with long-term economic recovery. GNO, Inc. is a regional economic development organization, and I was helping them with anything they needed from creating surveys to updating databases. Employees at GNO, Inc. are wearing "multiple hats," as the staff has decreased significantly after the hurricane and volunteers are needed and welcomed.
I flew into New Orleans from Boston on a gray Sunday afternoon and felt the impact of Katrina as soon as I stepped into the airport. The terminal was dim, and even now, six months later, all of the businesses have yet to reopen. In the taxi ride from the airport, blue-tarped roofs dotted the horizon, and trailers sat in debris-filled yards.
I pulled up to the home of my host, Barbara Johnson, Senior Vice President of Workforce & Area Development at GNO, Inc., who was thankful to only have two feet of water in her home after Katrina. Barbara and her family made me feel at home with a Jambalaya dinner and a bed so comfortable, I wish it had fit in my suitcase. I began to experience a "day in the life" of a native New Orleanian, thanking volunteers from Kansas at the gas station, trying to get bananas at a grocery store with long lines and very limited hours, and driving by wreckage en route to Barbara's work every day. We took a tour of the 17th Street Canal area, where prime real estate was in ruins and eight-foot water lines marked the frontages. A melancholic feeling increased as I realized that no one was around; the neighborhoods were drained of life. No matter how many times Barbara sees the devastation, the shock never subsides. "This is what keeps me going," she said.
In a later visit to the Lower Ninth Ward, volunteers and FEMA workers were scattered, and families searched through rubble. I observed one man who was lucky to have grass left on his property. A cane in one hand and the mower in the other, he was moving on with life. The Lower Ninth Ward was flattened with waters from the Mississippi River Gulf Outlet as well as the Intercoastal Waterway. Fellow volunteer Stuart Sloame commented, "It looks like an atomic bomb went off," and repeated it again and again in dismay as we drove up and down the streets. Dino Paternostro, Senior Vice President of Public Policy at GNO, Inc. said, "Where are the people that used to live in these homes? That's what we need to think about."
Throughout meetings during the week, GNO, Inc. often asked its partners, "What can we do to help you?" Working at a regional level, GNO, Inc. links parishes, businesses, workers, educational facilities, and other societal keystones together, which now have been bludgeoned by Katrina. Businesses need workers. Workers need housing and health care. Houses need workers to rebuild them. Hospitals need businesses to support them. It's all interconnected, and GNO Inc. is helping to put the pieces back together by driving forward and doing what it can. "I just have to keep checking off my to-do list; it's therapeutic." Barbara said in a Workforce Meeting, when discussions became overwhelming and everything was spoken in terms of "before-Katrina" and "after-Katrina."
New Orleans is beginning to heal. It is a city that may not be as it was before Katrina - they are hoping it will be better. While volunteering with GNO Inc., I witnessed exceptional determination and camaraderie within the organization. New Orleans has charmed me with its Southern hospitality, exceptional architecture, rich history, spectacular cuisine, and the some of the best music in the country.
For all of you reading this in New Orleans, I am graduating in a year so keep me in mind when your hiring freezes are over. I told Barbara that I want to move down here, as it's perfect for a non-risk adverse urban and environmental planner like me. She smiled when she said, "It's the new frontier. Where else do you have the opportunity to rebuild a city?
Nicole Guanzon is a masters candidate in Urban and Environmental Policy and Planning at Tufts Graduate School of Arts & Sciences.
