A friend sent me this magical post being revisited now because of Ike, the next storm about to enter the Gulf. Just tell me where to show up and I'll play my flute.





New Orleans/gulf coast anti-hurricane strategy by Michael Joseph

"Every man woman and child who possesses a wind instrument (Brass or woodwind) please unite with us at 8:29 pm CST on Friday, August 29th. Face directly south towards the Gulf of Mexico and blow. The resulting sonic force should disturb storm organization and direction, and wind-wise create a man made system of high resonant pressure. Those without wind instruments are welcome to join in as well: sing, whistle and hum. That many horns even God, Saint Gabriel and the rest of the heavenly hosts will hear as well as Our Lady of Prompt Succor.


From the East Bank, the West Bank, the Northshore, the Gulf Coast, Da Parish -- everyone make some noise!!! Like breaking up kidney stones with sonic bombardment -- that's the goal. If you don't have a horn, make noise anyway -- party horns, kazoos, drums, tambourines, ocarinas,your own mouth.


Join us by the Moonwalk, Woldenberg Park, or a levee near you!

Be sure to find a clear and SAFE place close to the banks and shores of our communities for the best resonant wave. We suggest maintaining the lowest tone your instrument can muster for one to three minutes then feel free to break into your favorite New Orleans songs."  

Our son Andrew's safely in Austin and we lost our chocolate Lab, Eddie, in October, so Malcolm and I were more mobile & agile than we were in Katrina. Went to my sister G's house in Mandeville. We've been living in the attic of our gutted house with no kitchen or laundry, so we did loads of laundry and M made a pot roast, which made us feel better and sort of normal in the midst of all of the blooming panic about the storm, especially when the Mayor determined last Saturday, that it would be "the mother of all storms." 1.9 people evacuated the coast and it took my mother-in-law 16 hours to drive from New Orleans to Destin - a 5 hour trip. No way can I get into that kind of traffic again; that's my post traumatic stressor, thanks to Katrina and an 8-hour-bumper-to-bumper-I-55-drive that should've taken 3 to Jackson.

For Monday's hurricane, we drove twenty miles north of Covington, to the home of friends because they had a generator and we knew G's power would go out once the winds and rain started. And it did. We stayed in Covington for two nights. Ten people and eight dogs. Wine, good food, bridge, and plenty of beds. The morning of Gustav, I had a cup of coffee, forced down some scrambled eggs, and went back to bed to sleep through him because it's nerve-wracking to sit glued to the radio and listen to a lot of worry and not have any pictures or results because the storm's unfolding.

On Tuesday morning, the unease of so many unshowered people (enough kilowatts in the generator to power one A/C and lights, but not hot water) and dogs trapped inside by bands and bands of rain was sort of present, so we bolted back to G's where there was no power but privacy and quiet, a gas stove, hot water, toilets that flushed. Malcolm has first responder credentials, and he traveled across the lake and into the empty city. He checked on our house; the National Guard showed up at our front step within minutes. Everything was fine, but hot as hell. He drove back across the causeway to sleep with me in the dark, a battery-operated fan at our feet. That thing worked. We woke at 2 a.m. needing covers.

By Wednesday morning, G's freezer was thawing and the fridge food had started to spoil. Also, we were stir crazy again, so we loaded up the trunk of my car and I drove to Hattiesburg to my mother's, and Malcolm ventured back into the city to work with clients, and throw out the contents of his mom's fridge, also his sister's and his son's. Fear of a fridge ruined by rotting food, and maggots that can only be duct-taped shut and dragged to the curb is a post-traumatic stressor, thanks to Katrina.

Entergy, the power company, lost 14 out of 14 transmission towers. It took four days to get power back in our neighborhood, and we just got cable and internet this afternoon. Once again, the city dodged the bullet of a hurricane. It's the after-its-over problems that knock you down.

People hurried home en masse. Orleans Parish people defied Mayor Nagin's order to wait until midnight and showed up at checkpoints, turning roads into parking lots, so he discontinued the checkpoints. A fierce need to check on your home and live in it again even if it means backed-up sewage, no A/C or lights, cooking on your barbecue, warm beer, no stores, and gas stations pumped dry = Civil Disobedience = a person's right to return.