in loving memory

You can take a cemetery tour in New Orleans. No, you can take cemetery tours here. Seriously, Google that. The stone mausoleums create an interesting landscape as one drives around and through New Orleans, and really all of southern Louisiana. The ground is too low, too wet to bury anything. And while there are countless stories and second line parades to take in, I hadn't stepped foot inside of the beautiful wrought iron gates of a single one, until today.

In the midst of other errands today, I drove past the New Orleans Katrina Memorial on Canal Street. I'm not sure what compelled me to stop and go in, but I did. It was a small, quiet place that could easily blend in with the several other cemeteries surrounding it, the street car line that drives right past it, and the busy intersection just beyond it. There was plenty of parking right in front of the entrance. I was the only person there.

Today marked seven weeks since I arrived in Louisiana, and I have quickly learned that Katrina and every other hurricane in the last decade are immediate on people's minds. I remember meeting with Dave The State Climatologist shortly after Sandy to discuss the progress of my Geography of New Jersey course. He was to teach it the following semester, and we lamented how a lot of the course topics would become wrapped up in the storm. But it's true-- that kind of weather permeates every aspect of your world. I've said it many times, that Sandy was a very different storm than Katrina, but I think I have some appreciation of how that's a wound that won't heal for the people who went through it.

So I walked around.

This understated memorial is the final resting place of countless people who could not be identified after Katrina. That might be the part I struggled with most. In 2005 and after, we were actually incapable of identifying all of the victims. Despite all of the technology in studying DNA and dental records or even just stringing clues together about missing people... and there were still people unclaimed. Lost. Forgotten.

But here they lie. The memorial site was developed out of the old Charity Hospital cemetery, where other unidentified remains and remains donated to medical research were laid to rest. (Charity Hospital closed after Katrina due to the damages from the flooding.) The development was made possible by at least two dozen local funeral homes.


As I walked around the simple sidewalk in the small park, it was amazing how quiet it felt despite being right on a busy road in the middle of a busy city. I could hear a few birds singing. I could hear my slow footsteps. I'm sure I could hear the traffic just a few feet behind me, but I was totally absorbed in the memorial. There were a few wreaths on stands. This one was my favorite, with a fake bass and a fake duck--



Each of the five or so wreaths I saw were old, falling apart, dried up in the sun. I wondered how long they've been there-- I'm hopeful just since the most recent anniversary of Katrina in August, but who knows. The whole place was an interesting juxtaposition between highly maintained landscaping and barely remembered individuals.