A Louisiana girl through and through, I’m sitting outside under shelter from the rain in guarded anticipation of the wrath of tropical storm/Cat 1 Hurricane Barry. The storm has been a slow mover in the Gulf for interminable days now. Barry has been taunting us, making us guess which route it would ultimately take, and allowing TV station weather people and ancillary staff the headiness of self-important celebrity status with incessant coverage. With the lull in activity as

To The Rescue Sept. 6 16 In the wide wake of recent flooding in various areas of Louisiana, many of us who live here find it hard to survey the devastation – the mountains of discarded guts of homes lining the streets – and to smell the mildew already set in. Even more difficult is seeing the dejection and even despair written on so many faces of the people whose homes were wrecked. Those of us who lived through a similar scene eleven years ago after Hurricane Katrina are

Like flotsam and jetsam we landed in shelters and on doorsteps in places that other people called home – flopping on couches or floors and gratefully accepting the kindness of both strangers and distant friends. Many of us who were St. Bernard Parish and New Orleans area Katrina refugees, had evacuated from homes which were turned into mucky rubble. When we could return home after more than a month, we found that swampy waters had marinated the contents of our homes, wood flo