New Orleans Trippin
Well, I returned to Ann Arbor from a service project in New Orleans in the wee hours yesterday. I had to rest most of the day to recover from the 17-hour drive and the general emotional and mental stress associated with seeing a city you once considered your home completely destroyed beyond your wildest imagination. But I have nothing to complain about. People have lost so much. I'm one of the lucky ones, having left the city in 2001.
The purpose of the project was to help other archivists to get back to normal and to demonstrate our concern by offering our labor to them. We worked at the Newcomb College Center for Research on Women. A really wonderful woman, Susan Tucker, the curator, was our host. We also had the tremendous pleasure of meeting the charming director, Beth Willinger, the cool librarian, Christina Hernandez, and the ultra-hip educational director, Crystal Kile (a.k.a. Pop-Tart on WTUL). I can't imagine working with a better group of people.
Susan was so terrific as to have arranged for us to meet with other archivists around town. We met with archivists from the Jazz and Heritage Foundation, the Notorial Archives, the New Orleans Historical Collection, and the Government Documents Collection of Tulane. Some lost more than others. Some appeared shell shocked. Others relived the intensity of the storm as they answered our questions. Everyone was wiser. We learned a great deal not only about the effects of Katrina, but about the archives profession in general.
Perhaps the most eerie hallmark of this hurricane is the darkness of the city at night. Over 80% of the city still has no electricity and is mostly uninhabited. One drives through huge swaths of darkness from one "island" neighborhood of light and life to another. Stop lights are replaced by makeshift stop signs.
Of course I had to drive around the city and look at all the neighborhoods I had lived in or my friends had lived in in order to make sense of the scope of the destruction. I'm still coping with what I saw. I can't imagine having lived through it. I suppose I have some bit of survior guilt for having left the city before this horrible event occurred. The mood of the city is depressed, but also hopeful for a new beginnning. Perhaps this destruction can make a clean slate for a NEW New Orleans with better schools, a more responsive, efficient governement, and safer streets. But there is also fear for the future. People are worried for their jobs. Housing prices are high. Rentals higher. Out of the 200,000 housing units in New Orleans, over 150,000 have sustained damage. Many of these are blighted beyond repair.
There is no smooth road ahead for this great city. But when has New Orleans ever had it easy? Throughout the French period of the city's history (1700s) it was plauged with fires, hurricanes, and floods. Anyone who's studied the rich and colorful history of the city knows about the infamous, devastating fire of 1788, which destoyed most of the French wooden buildings. The Spanish had hardly rebuilt the city when a series of three hurricanes and another fire, all in 1794, destroyed the few buildings that had escaped the 1788 disaster, as well as most of the new ones. (As a result, most of the existing structures date from 1795 or after.) In 1818, 1847, and 1853, over 14,000 people -- a sizeable percentage of the population -- succumbed to yellow fever. In 1927 a great flood effected the entire lower Miss. river and displaced over a million people.
New Orleans survived all of this. And it will survive Katrina, I have no doubt. The fact that the city has suffered and yet still retains its joi de vivre is exactly what makes the New Orleans brand of pluck so extraordinary. The resilience of its inhabitants is integral to its character.
In the meantime, only three libraries are up and running in the city. The school system is destroyed: Teachers have all been laid off, only one public school is now operating, and the city will be the first all-charter school system in the country -- a situation that many people are watching closely. Therefore, the health of libraries is more important than ever. Not just for children neglected by the school system, but as a resource for the community as it negotiates the arduous rebuilding process.
I want very much to continue helping in New Orleans, but need to decide what will be the best way to do this. This will be the focus of much of my professional exploration in the months to come.
The purpose of the project was to help other archivists to get back to normal and to demonstrate our concern by offering our labor to them. We worked at the Newcomb College Center for Research on Women. A really wonderful woman, Susan Tucker, the curator, was our host. We also had the tremendous pleasure of meeting the charming director, Beth Willinger, the cool librarian, Christina Hernandez, and the ultra-hip educational director, Crystal Kile (a.k.a. Pop-Tart on WTUL). I can't imagine working with a better group of people.
Susan was so terrific as to have arranged for us to meet with other archivists around town. We met with archivists from the Jazz and Heritage Foundation, the Notorial Archives, the New Orleans Historical Collection, and the Government Documents Collection of Tulane. Some lost more than others. Some appeared shell shocked. Others relived the intensity of the storm as they answered our questions. Everyone was wiser. We learned a great deal not only about the effects of Katrina, but about the archives profession in general.
Perhaps the most eerie hallmark of this hurricane is the darkness of the city at night. Over 80% of the city still has no electricity and is mostly uninhabited. One drives through huge swaths of darkness from one "island" neighborhood of light and life to another. Stop lights are replaced by makeshift stop signs.
Of course I had to drive around the city and look at all the neighborhoods I had lived in or my friends had lived in in order to make sense of the scope of the destruction. I'm still coping with what I saw. I can't imagine having lived through it. I suppose I have some bit of survior guilt for having left the city before this horrible event occurred. The mood of the city is depressed, but also hopeful for a new beginnning. Perhaps this destruction can make a clean slate for a NEW New Orleans with better schools, a more responsive, efficient governement, and safer streets. But there is also fear for the future. People are worried for their jobs. Housing prices are high. Rentals higher. Out of the 200,000 housing units in New Orleans, over 150,000 have sustained damage. Many of these are blighted beyond repair.
There is no smooth road ahead for this great city. But when has New Orleans ever had it easy? Throughout the French period of the city's history (1700s) it was plauged with fires, hurricanes, and floods. Anyone who's studied the rich and colorful history of the city knows about the infamous, devastating fire of 1788, which destoyed most of the French wooden buildings. The Spanish had hardly rebuilt the city when a series of three hurricanes and another fire, all in 1794, destroyed the few buildings that had escaped the 1788 disaster, as well as most of the new ones. (As a result, most of the existing structures date from 1795 or after.) In 1818, 1847, and 1853, over 14,000 people -- a sizeable percentage of the population -- succumbed to yellow fever. In 1927 a great flood effected the entire lower Miss. river and displaced over a million people.
New Orleans survived all of this. And it will survive Katrina, I have no doubt. The fact that the city has suffered and yet still retains its joi de vivre is exactly what makes the New Orleans brand of pluck so extraordinary. The resilience of its inhabitants is integral to its character.
In the meantime, only three libraries are up and running in the city. The school system is destroyed: Teachers have all been laid off, only one public school is now operating, and the city will be the first all-charter school system in the country -- a situation that many people are watching closely. Therefore, the health of libraries is more important than ever. Not just for children neglected by the school system, but as a resource for the community as it negotiates the arduous rebuilding process.
I want very much to continue helping in New Orleans, but need to decide what will be the best way to do this. This will be the focus of much of my professional exploration in the months to come.
(The School of Information Recovery Project, a.k.a. SIRP, was partially funded by Ginsberg Center for Community Service and Learning)
posted by Miss Information at 6:13 PM
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