It's Not There Anymore.

While resting today (alternating between hot and cold compresses) I downloaded Google Earth and paid a visit to my childhood home in New Orleans.  Had no trouble finding the area - it was a pretty unique little enclave of small homes a block from Lake Pontchartrain and the old (now private) airport. The homes once served as housing for military officers during World War II and close to the military facilities on the other side of the Industrial Canal. 

My grandparents purchased their home from the government on June 23, 1945 and I was born on July 23, 1946. I lived in their home from age 5 to 16 when I moved to NYC. (If you click to embiggen and follow the arrow in the image almost directly down, you can just make out the small U-shape of the homes with another street located straight down the center.  A trident of sorts.)

The U is Curtis Drive that begins and ends on Haynes Blvd. Martin Drive was the center street and ended at the corner of our home and the stream that wound into the woods behind our house.  Martin  Drive now continues past the house and continues into the newer neighborhoods that replaced the woods. The area  known as "Little Woods" would later become New Orleans East. I prefer the former title.

I spent many a summer's day in that lake slowly bobbing around in an inner-tube (car tires used air-filled soft rubber tubes in those days, if one was punctured it was usually discarded. They would be patched and given to anyone who wanted one) or using the tube to hold a bushel basket while we caught crabs.

Individual summer camps - houses on pilons that jutted out into the lake - stretched for miles down the Haynes Blvd. coastline.  One such "camp" was owned by an aunt and uncle who lived further into town.  They would spend weekends and a few weeks at the camp, crabbing, fishing, shrimping and cooking up the most amazing fare you could ever imagine.I would spend days there enjoying the lake, birds, and of course, the food.

In my travels via Google Earth I discovered that all the camps are gone. The airport has been completely renovated to accept private planes, even small jets. There is a marina where I used to swim. When I found the little horseshoe shaped enclave I once called home, I zoomed in to get a better view of the homes there.   A few remain abandoned since Katrina, but most have been restored, enlarged and look to be well cared for.  Green lawns and even some trees.

Sadly, my own old home has been replaced by a red brick structure (house?) resembling a bunker or utility station. With windows high off the ground, 2 X 3' rectangles, and offering no view of the surrounding neighborhood, I wonder who would build such a fortress-like thing. Clearly, not "community" minded folks. 

I was saddened by viewing the surrounding neighborhoods that are still washed out and vacant. Schools, churches, even roadways in dis-repair.   All these years later, it is heartbreaking to think that this could be so.

While disturbing on so many levels, it gave me hope for the city and (at least for a while) took my mind off the back pain. I am left with only images, not what I have seen with my own eyes.  That is the next logical step. I need to visit to see for myself.

And so it goes.
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