o Bring Us Home traveled through Louisiana by bus and bicycle between October 24 and November 6, 2009 In a run much shortened from our original plan, we listened to the stories of the residents as they related to the Hurricane Katrina disaster. I hope the word of the project will spread so that I may hear from more of those “refugees” who have not yet returned home to New Orleans. It is all of these stories that will come to life in a book entitled To Bring Us Home, to remind the nation of how far we have yet to go as we approach the 5th anniversary of Katrina making landfall on August 29, 2005.
We have been back home for over a week now, and I’m well settled into my old routines that make home what it is. Jon is up north with his parents, seeing his nephew who has been growing quickly while his uncle is a thousand miles away. My own daughter Karina attends school in Boston, and I call and text and email, but hi-tech fails to ease the heartache, and I will find a way to see her soon. Ian is happily in his day-to-day with his girlfriend, who missed him terribly while we were on the road. Good for you, Ian. Jon and I gave him a hard time about the long calls in the night, but in the end, we were jealous. As my mom said while my smiling little dog Ali helped me unpack, it’s always nice to be home.
We rolled well over 2,000 miles during our arduous two weeks, both on the bike and in Nola, and the road became our home away from home. We each settled into our own territory on the bus, and before long, the confusion of clothes, gear, and endless cables and wires that connected us with the world taught us tolerance and patience, and became a comfort in its own right as well. The roads we traveled took us to people who loved to see us, and some who shared their stories. We moved on with confidence and excitement, and looked ahead to where tomorrow’s road would take us.
The entire route had been planned in advance. We needed no map for the road home. Biloxi, Mobile, Tallahassee, Tampa. Home. Perhaps someone who lived in New Orleans on August 29, 2005, and has not returned home, is still looking for the map with the return route clearly marked. Four years, two months, and nineteen days later. Does anyone have that map?
After fighting the wind for 65 miles, I arrived in Chalmette at the the St. Bernard Project main offices at 4:30pm Friday, November 6. Two weeks (and one year) after the start, I finally made it! What a great reception they had for me. About 2 dozen cheering volunteers and homeowners, the founder Liz McCartney, a huge cake, and a yellow ribbon stretched across the road greeted me as I rode the final block of our long journey. Very nice of everyone to do this. Thank you! As the sun set, and we said our goodbyes until the next adventure, we considered how to spend the next morning filming in New Orleans. After a quick check of the approaching Hurricane Ida, we decided to count our blessings of good weather, and Jon’s and Nola’s stable health, and rigged for an overnight run home. This was the one and only time I was able to sleep in my “bedroom” at the rear of the bucking Nola. Weary, but glad to be home, we arrived in Tampa Saturday afternoon. We went our ways, but we will be back. Thank you for following along, and for your prayers and inspiration that helped to carry this project through the early stages. The stories of the Katrina refugees are starting to reach me. Now the real work begins. See you soon.
Hi, and good morning! This is our last day on the road to New Orleans, and I am about to lift the bike out of Nola for the final 75 miles of our much-shortened run. I’ve bonded some with the bike, and I’m thinking perhaps I should name “her” ,too. This ride will be the easiest, and the most enjoyable. As I approach the city, I am glad to be up ahead of my alarm in anticipation of coming home to a place I began a love affair with two years ago. The people of this warm city, and the state of Louisiana, are always with me. Their friendly, welcoming ways draw me back, and I so look forward to riding in to my adopted home, into the seeming open arms of a place that’s found a permanent corner in my heart. Everyone I meet smiles. What a genuine, soothing comfort that is. That is New Orleans.