Missing Louisiana is an Understatement

/in /by

Posted from Camarillo, California, United States.

Over the course of my academic career, I have had numerous opportunities to travel and visit culturally and environmentally significant locations. All had a significant impact me, but none like New Orleans. As I reflect on the trip, I am overwhelmed with emotions. We were able to participate in numerous activities that benefited both the people of Louisiana and impacted our perspective as well. I was 12-years-old when Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans. I remember hearing snippets of news reports and information about the destruction and chaotic state of the region from flooding, but not enough to fully understand. Up until I enrolled in this class, I still had that same limited knowledge of Katrina. My eyes were opened to a disturbing reality once I began to comprehend what occurred in Louisiana following the storm. The people were left with nothing and relatively little emergency assistance. Levees burst, homes were knocked off of their foundations, lives lost, and families torn apart. Entire neighborhoods were flattened and debris littered the ground. This year is the ten year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. While visiting the area, more truth was revealed about the storm and recovery of the people, neighborhoods, and culture of New Orleans. There is still apparent evidence of Katrina as we drove through its cities and you can hear it in the voices of locals as they describe the effect the event had on their lives. What struck me the most was talking to the man from Buras, where we planted a community garden. His home lies directly between two levees: one holding back the Mississippi, the other the Gulf. When asked why he returned to such a vulnerable, low lying area that will surely be destructed again, he replied simply: “This is my home. I can’t imagine lively anywhere else.” It then hit me that what we were doing truly was service. We were serving the people of Louisiana who have a deep connection with the land and city. It is all we can do to protect it and save it for future generations.

The swamp, I realized, is one of the most unique ecosystems I have had the privilege of understanding and experiencing. It was all I imagined it would be and more. The species that inhabit the humid, warm, and inundated regions are unique to say the least, and different from anything I have seen before. It was breath-taking. When all was quiet, the forest was peaceful and a calm would come over me. Clearing my mind of numbers and science I could feel at peace with the environment and be able to think past the hard labor and know what I was doing was imperative to preserve the gorgeous ecosystem. In addition, the comradery among the students was strengthened on the trip. Previous friendships grew stronger and new friendships blossomed. These are people I will know and remember for the rest of my life. Our joint respect and passion for service, research, and learning was palpable.

The harsh reality is the swampland will most likely disappear in our lifetime. It saddens me to think my grandchildren won’t be able see the beautiful swamp. The opportunity we had to travel to this region of the country was a once in a lifetime experience. Though our visit was short, I feel I experienced most of what New Orleans had to offer, though that doesn’t hinder my thirst to explore the region more. I will never forget my time in New Orleans. And with that…CORNBREAD!

Hello world!

/in /by

Welcome to WordPress. This is your first post. Edit or delete it, then start blogging!

Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?

/in /by

When you really get up close and examine a subject closely from a scientific perspective, I have found that along with the data collected you establish a deep connection with that subject. And when that subject is a place, a connection can be felt to the whole environment, its plants, animals, people and culture. I can say that this is true about my time spent in New Orleans, Louisiana. The Crescent City has a certain romance to it, it has a vibe. The people who call it home are so passionate about their city by the river. The English Turn Forest that we crisscrossed with transect tape and spent so many hours breaking down to the last Sambucus canadensis is alive and when one is still and patient one can hear it breathe.

But the city is a beautiful disaster, a place of paradox and a place of dilemma. A common theme in the history of humanity is our futile attempts to dominate natural systems instead of constructing our existence in harmony with those processes. Southeastern Louisiana is a great example of our folly in this regard. There are those that would claim New Orleans should be abandoned, that it is not worth saving and we should move to higher ground. By this reasoning, should we relinquish our homes in California because an earthquake might bring them crumbling down around us, or because a fire might reduce them to ashes? Yet we are so quick to judge those folks for living in a city beneath the sea. It will not be easy to save the forest, to save the city. But just because something isn’t easy, just because something is unpopular, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do it. The worst thing we can do is nothing at all.

As much as I have learned about New Orleans, about plants and snakes and music and food, I have learned more about myself. There are a few moments that stick in my mind, but one was particularly moving. When we planted a garden in Buras, the gentleman whose property we utilized said that for him, our spring visit was the most exciting time of the year. This man and his family, in a humble home by the river, was touched by what we did for him. In that moment, I realized that the service learning trip that we had embarked on was so much more than some field experience for ourselves to further our own education and career, it was a chance to contribute to something much bigger than ourselves. Where before I saw that garden as a small contribution, a tiny plot with a few peppers and corn and tomatoes, I knew then that for at least one man and his community, it meant the world. These folks in Louisiana, they love their home enough to return and rebuild even after losing everything. Their passion and tenacity is inspirational, and we owe them (at the very least) our respect.

What is the takeaway here? I have learned that as a student of environmental science and as a human being there is the potential to work for something greater than myself. I have learned that however easy it is to be cynical and pessimistic about our species and the choices we have made, the human spirit can still surprise you in a beautiful way– if only you can open your eyes and let it.