Limbs and Looters and Drug Seekers
Between cases, I stole glances at the weather channel to keep tabs on things. The industrial canal levees were impressive, but the most memorable on the spot coverage was a reporter who pointed out that some limbs were bent, and that the parking lot with speed bumps above the water she stood in was "flooded." I suppose she was an Arizona reporter. We have been lucky. Power is out all across the state, but here, the lights stay lit, and the air conditioner churning, although once in a while the lights dim or flicker. The winds are still rattling the window panes. Limbs are down and the store shelves are bare, but there are a few cheerful signs.
Amazingly, the price of gasoline went down. Most people, myself included filled the gas tanks of our cars on Friday or Saturday at $3.89 a gallon. Today, gas is $3.59 a gallon. Looting has been curtailed in South Louisiana by announcing that looters would be bused directly to Angola and housed among the general population. This was odd, as pointed out by one blogger, as those accused are held in jails, while those convicted go to penitentiaries.. But then, there was a report of at least two looters, Thomas Battenburg of Arabi and Kelcy Price of Ponchatoula who experienced just that surprise. Angola. The Farm. Famous for "Dead Man Walking" and the Angola Prison Rodeo. Louisiana State Penitentiary. LSP stands for something else among the prison population, "Last Slave Plantation." True or not, the threat of Angola seems to have been effective.
It's looking like the levees held in New Orleans. Grand Isle and Lafitte were hit the hardest, it seems. Lafitte is still fighting rising water. It makes the limb that dropped across the roof of my veranda an hour or so ago seem small potatoes.
We are still waiting for confirmation that the worst is over. It's somewhat understandable why some people chose to stay in New Orleans, saying the hurricanes "always turn." Picking up one's life every two weeks and running from a storm during hurricane season can be trying. I suppose a lot of people feel rather silly for evacuating. I know I feel rather silly in my precautions. I'm just thankful that the evacuees will have a place to go home to, and perhaps by the middle of the week things will be back to normal. Tonight, a curfew is in effect. Tomorrow, after the blow is over, I will fire up the chainsaw and deal with the limb on the roof and any more that may fall tonight.