The news continues to come in from Katrina. This morning our newspaper’s front page was filled with this photo, and I couldn’t help but notice the name of the restaurant in the background–Mulates. I ate at Mulates with a group of Christian novelists back in the summer of 2000–hard to believe that the scene of so much fun and joy then could be the scene of so much suffering and devastation now.
My hubby got a call last night from a friend in NO–since my husband used to live there, he has many friends who lived in the city. This man, Fred, did get out on Tuesday by driving along the Mississippi. Apparently the only part of the city not underwater is down by Mulates, the convention center, and the railroad tracks. Anyway, Fred’s house is under water.
We haven’t heard a word from my sister in law and her family, who lived on the other side of Lake P.–though we did get her answering machine, which means she has power, at least. Let’s just hope there’s a house around that answering machine.
The scenes of chaos and tales of looters shooting at rescuer’s airplanes remind me of that dark movie, Escape from New York. May heaven help us.