Joel's Visit to Metairie

Immediately after Rita, the streets had a weird, post-apocalyptic feel to them, and I fully expected to see Mad Max come barreling around the corner. I drove the wrong way for several blocks on a major boulevard one night, and lived to talk about it. Ordinarily, the Loop is a very demanding and unforgiving driving environment. I feel lazy about driving too far across town. Taking Katie to school is a one-hour round trip and requires a level of alertness that I ordinarily don't possess, particularly early in the morning.

Last week Joel drove the van back to Metairie to check out our house firsthand. Katie had school, and we and the dogs stayed in Houston. Joel loaded up his schedule with constructive activity. He met with an insurance adjuster and his regular urologist, and picked up stuff to hold us over here in Houston till Katie’s regular school, the Jewish Day School in Metairie, opens (or later). He's also getting opinions on whether or not it'd be too soon to put our house on the market.

For my part, I'm already looking at the MLS listings in Houston. I start to get excited about the potential when I see a nice house, but then I remind myself that once Katie and the dogs hit it, the house will never look really nice again. Then I think that--even if it weren't a hurricane--there's always the very real possibility that the house could be taken away completely. There's a stoic or ascetic part of me that says such detachment is a good thing—but in my gut it feels more like learned helplessness and looming depression--so I shake it off as fast as I can.

In the past I have read about survivor guilt, but it wasn’t until the last few years that I experienced it firsthand. How were we spared? Why were we spared? I am not complaining about our fortune, but how does one handle seeing one’s friends’ homes, memories, and most treasured possessions destroyed? I don’t know what to say.

We were thrilled to hear that the house was just as intact as my friend Val had described on the basis of his looking through windows a couple weeks ago. Joel said that everything was just as we had left it, only he was afraid to open the refrigerator because of the likelihood that the stench of rotten food a month old would permeate the house. Joel said that the house itself smelled musty, but that is to be expected after its being locked up untouched for a month. (We will schedule the visit of a mold expert, just to make sure that there isn’t storm-related mold damage that isn’t behind the odor.) Not all of our neighbors were as lucky as we were; many of them had moved fallen branches, destroyed carpeting, and upholstered furniture to the curb. However, all on our street appear to have electricity, potable water, and (where applicable) intact cable service. Joel sneaked out of the immediate neighborhood, and filmed outside views of his office in Audubon Park, and the homes of several friends. He said that experiencing the utter devastation of New Orleans directly is much more disturbing than via television. Of course, that is to be expected.

While Joel was gone, I did four loads of laundry, swept our entryway and porch, vacuumed two rooms, and cleaned the dogs' ears. Katie and I returned a Blockbuster DVD that had come from the Metairie store. Repeated surprises postponed Joel’s return to Houston from mid-Friday to late Saturday. It was a relief to have him back--both to have him here to share the childrearing chores, and to see all the stuff he brought back. I am happy to have my Golden Retriever puppy slippers back. Now that we have the "real" computers, we had to go to Target to buy computer desks. Three cheap matching maple laminate computer desks--it makes the apartment look like the office of a fly-by-night company. J & K will be working for hours to put these together. But they will triple the table- and counter- space of the apartment.

Joel has made many contacts in the last week and has a second potential referral source lined up. I had really hoped to work as an Animal Trainer at PetWorld instead of as a psychologist, but PetWorld has not called me back, so it looks like I might need venture back into the land of pantyhose and managed care. The PetWorld operations manager made a strong point of discouraging us from telephoning the store to follow-up on the status of our applications, but I am likely to visit him in the context of a shopping trip and ask him flat-out if I have been ruled out for being overqualified. In the weeks since I first considered the job, I have become more and more convinced that the instruction they would provide me, the experience I gain on the job, and the joy of working with animals will more than offset the decrease in potential salary. Morever, if I am training dogs for a living, I shall be more highly motivated to train my four—which would be a definite contribution to our family’s quality of life. Having only two folding chairs, no beds or mattresses, and using a video lounger and an ultra-thick dog bed as our only sofa, we are down at dog-level most of every day. If I could reduce Jesse’s compulsive licking, she and the rest of us would be far happier.

We like the smaller Conservative shul here in town (Brith Shalom), but I have not gone back since they had the nice dinner for us. It will feel better now that I have the requisite spouse, clothing and tallit. Of course, for the High Holidays, Shir Chadash is holding services at the Houston JCC. I don't know how they plan to do it without Harvey, the cantor usually hired for High Holidays. I just wish the holidays weren't here already: Katie has missed far too much school to be able to afford yet another vacation. On the other hand, she's picking up some weird stuff at this Orthodox school: she has painted her nails black and wants to dye her hair to match to be Goth!