The roof will set you free...help finally arrives. Photo by Todd Perley
Out One Day: No Rain Probably Helps
by Todd Perley
An occasional column of real life stories from New Orleans.
(CONTENT WARNING: THIS EXCERPT RECOUNTS THE IMMEDIATE AFTERMATH OF HURRICANE IDA)
I’ve been texting the roofer all day. He was stuck in a petrol queue for 5 1/2 hours. Then the cops came and shut it down. So a roofer spent the most important day of his year not getting gas. I can only speculate on his frustration.
So I put Plan B into action tonight. One friend has a number of tarps. He just drove in from Florida and stopped at every hardware store buying tarps. He’s very smart. Tomorrow morning I’m swinging by his place to pick up three. Tomorrow afternoon, friends are coming to my house to tarp the rest of my missing roof. Hopefully that will keep most rain out of my attic until we can have a proper roof installed, probably in a month or two.
(My husband) Ben has been trying to get home from Nashville. His flight tomorrow was canceled. The airport seems to still be closed. As much as the last three days have traumatized me, I wouldn’t wish that I was away. The thousand little tasks I was here to take care of as my roof blew down the street were important. And there’s more work to be done. Not having access to my city would be insupportable.
Afternoon cocktails and strategizing with (my friend) Marrus in her backyard. Then we filled my car with food that will spoil soon and went to Bar Redux, where the punks and Goths were having a lovely street BBQ. The punks and Goths are the ones helping me through this, and the sense of community was tangible and beyond precious to me. Tonight I may have the first easy sleep in my own house since all this madness began.
This afternoon as I was charging USB batteries from my car lighter and sitting on the stoop, a neighbor came by and gave me muscle relaxers and proper pain meds (sorely needed, pun inevitable), then mentioned she had space in her giant freezer. I spent the next hour taking eight fully-loaded grocery bags of food to her house. This will save us several hundred dollars in food that won’t go bad. For the 99th time in the last 36 hours, I was bowled over by my city and friends and neighbors. People care about each other here.
During the afternoon as I continued to write, various friends stopped by to see if I needed anything. Again: community. Daylight hours are spent marveling at the outpouring of love and help from those near me, and afar.
A friend started a GoFundMe account on our behalf. We do have insurance, but this is still going to be a very expensive event to fully recover from, and it couldn’t come at a worse time. I’m out of work until either my computer works, or a bar I work at can open.
The plan I’m making on the fly now goes like this: get the roof tarped. Deal with whatever things cannot be put off. Pack the animals in the car. Maybe drive to Nashville to pick up Ben, since he doesn’t seem to be able to get a flight home, then go...somewhere for a while.
I’m aware, and more grateful than I could ever properly convey, of all the luxurious options that friends and family have offered to us all over the country for temporary housing until NOLA is a functional city again. Ben and I need to discuss these options and figure out what we’re gonna do.
At the moment I am once again sitting on my back balcony in the pitch dark, alone, exactly as I was last night, but without the sense of impending doom. No rain at the moment probably helps.
This excerpt has been edited for length.
More by Todd: Tree-beads Hold Their Value
You can read the entirety of Todd's book, 'Hurricane Ida and the Aftermath'. Click here for a link to the paperback version.
You can support Todd's writing and other artistic projects at his Patreon
Back to Stories
by Todd Perley
An occasional column of real life stories from New Orleans.
(CONTENT WARNING: THIS EXCERPT RECOUNTS THE IMMEDIATE AFTERMATH OF HURRICANE IDA)
I’ve been texting the roofer all day. He was stuck in a petrol queue for 5 1/2 hours. Then the cops came and shut it down. So a roofer spent the most important day of his year not getting gas. I can only speculate on his frustration.
So I put Plan B into action tonight. One friend has a number of tarps. He just drove in from Florida and stopped at every hardware store buying tarps. He’s very smart. Tomorrow morning I’m swinging by his place to pick up three. Tomorrow afternoon, friends are coming to my house to tarp the rest of my missing roof. Hopefully that will keep most rain out of my attic until we can have a proper roof installed, probably in a month or two.
(My husband) Ben has been trying to get home from Nashville. His flight tomorrow was canceled. The airport seems to still be closed. As much as the last three days have traumatized me, I wouldn’t wish that I was away. The thousand little tasks I was here to take care of as my roof blew down the street were important. And there’s more work to be done. Not having access to my city would be insupportable.
Afternoon cocktails and strategizing with (my friend) Marrus in her backyard. Then we filled my car with food that will spoil soon and went to Bar Redux, where the punks and Goths were having a lovely street BBQ. The punks and Goths are the ones helping me through this, and the sense of community was tangible and beyond precious to me. Tonight I may have the first easy sleep in my own house since all this madness began.
This afternoon as I was charging USB batteries from my car lighter and sitting on the stoop, a neighbor came by and gave me muscle relaxers and proper pain meds (sorely needed, pun inevitable), then mentioned she had space in her giant freezer. I spent the next hour taking eight fully-loaded grocery bags of food to her house. This will save us several hundred dollars in food that won’t go bad. For the 99th time in the last 36 hours, I was bowled over by my city and friends and neighbors. People care about each other here.
During the afternoon as I continued to write, various friends stopped by to see if I needed anything. Again: community. Daylight hours are spent marveling at the outpouring of love and help from those near me, and afar.
A friend started a GoFundMe account on our behalf. We do have insurance, but this is still going to be a very expensive event to fully recover from, and it couldn’t come at a worse time. I’m out of work until either my computer works, or a bar I work at can open.
The plan I’m making on the fly now goes like this: get the roof tarped. Deal with whatever things cannot be put off. Pack the animals in the car. Maybe drive to Nashville to pick up Ben, since he doesn’t seem to be able to get a flight home, then go...somewhere for a while.
I’m aware, and more grateful than I could ever properly convey, of all the luxurious options that friends and family have offered to us all over the country for temporary housing until NOLA is a functional city again. Ben and I need to discuss these options and figure out what we’re gonna do.
At the moment I am once again sitting on my back balcony in the pitch dark, alone, exactly as I was last night, but without the sense of impending doom. No rain at the moment probably helps.
This excerpt has been edited for length.
More by Todd: Tree-beads Hold Their Value
You can read the entirety of Todd's book, 'Hurricane Ida and the Aftermath'. Click here for a link to the paperback version.
You can support Todd's writing and other artistic projects at his Patreon
Back to Stories