Well, its been awhile since our last post, but that isn’t for a lack of happenings. In fact, quite the opposite. Story and photos at the end.
As the waters receded over the last week, it became apparent that we could return to our home much sooner than we originally thought. On Sunday night we made our first trip back to check out the house, along with our friend John. Coming back to our neighborhood was a bit surreal. From the street, everything looked normal…a peaceful neighborhood with well-kept houses lining the streets. But once we stepped inside the house, we found a more expected sight
The floors of our home were caked with a dark black mud, the leftovers from 33 inches of river water which had been there for nearly a week. Couches and beds were stained and heavy with water. Inexpensive furniture made of particle board had disintegrated, snapped in half or fallen over. The few books which didn’t make it out were bloated with water and splayed out on the carpet like victims of a back-alley homicide.
That first night back was, as I mentioned, expected, but no less difficult. It was hard to see our first-home so brutally battered by the raging river. We spent a few hours there, meeting with the FEMA inspector and knocking out a few walls to let the damp wood begin to breathe.
I returned on Monday morning with a crew of three (John, Tom and Steven). There was considerable experience in demolition with this crew. John had been a contractor and lived in New Orleans during Katrina. Steven was a fix-it-all type by trade. And Tom’s tennis swing proved just as good with an ax. In just over four hours, the four of us knocked out all of the drywall from the house, removed all the damaged furniture, unhooked the appliances and pulled the wet insulation from the walls. It was an impressive wrecking job.
I got some more help later from my friend Nick and by the end of the day we were the first house on the block that was stripped to it’s frame. No walls, no carpet, just 2″x4″s and siding. The whole thing was oddly gratifying and still left me feeling a bit empty inside. Nothing seems better right now than sitting in my backyard around a fire, grilling summer vegetables and playing fetch with the dog. But that will all have to wait for another day.
Still, on the bright side, unexpected gestures of help and friendship have lifted our spirits. From assistance from the Red Cross, to meals from Liz’s co-wrokers, to letters and checks from old friends in the mail, it has made every day bearable if not joyful. While we sit and wait for the city to plot the future of our neighborhood, at least we do so in the company of good people.
View our photos from the return home.
