Howie Luvzus

I want to first make clear that my family and I have been very blessed throughout the Katrina ordeal. We have not suffered the loss that many of my friends have experienced. We have not had to face all of the uncertainties that others have faced, but we have suffered nonetheless. As I’m researching theological aspects of Bioethics, I am becoming aware of why I’m having difficult days. I apologize beforehand if my complaining offends those who have it worse than me. Your pain does impact me more than you can know.

I think that the most difficult aspect of being impacted by Katrina is the sense of disempowerment I feel. Prior to the storm, my life was pretty well mapped out. My third year review at work had gone well so I had confidence that I would continue to work there as long as I wished. As of today, my pay status for October is uncertain. When classes begin in January, I’m unsure as to the number of students that will return. That figure will have an impact on my employment status I’m sure. I’m also concerned about how my teenaged son will handle another change in schools if I need to relocate. During this academic year, he has experienced three first days of school at three completely different kinds of schools.

Not only is my employment future uncertain, I am also miles away from my family and friends. I can’t begin to describe how painful this separation has been for me. I will move on to less difficult matters.

How else do I feel disempowered? Since I was 15 years old, I’ve had my own car and could go anywhere I wanted to go. I don’t even have a bike now. Can’t even get one! My world has been reduced to a few square miles. I tried the bus on Friday. It was a most frightening experience for me, but not in ways you might expect. When I was in the second grade, I got on the wrong school bus going home. I’m dyslexic so bus 54 looked a lot like bus 45. I was terrified! Not knowing where I was going or how to get to a safe place is excruciating for me. I have no idea how bus systems work. I tried to read all of the brochures, but I still didn’t understand. I hopped a bus headed for a mall and took my chances. The freedom was exhilarating but I was still afraid I would have to contact a cab to get back “home.” After catching a movie, I sat by myself at the bus stop watching cars go by. I had no idea if a bus would pick me up. After 30 minutes a bus pulled up and the same driver from my first trip was driving! He said that the bus would take me back to Vandy!

The list of things I can’t do now is huge. At one point in this ordeal, I joked with my older brother that I would be much more comfortable if he would just tell me what I needed to do. He’s a wonderful guy who loves me very much. He’d probably do a much better job of managing my life right now than me. He wouldn’t go for it though. I can now better identify with those who sat on I-10 waiting for someone to help them. I feel so helpless and alone. But for now I must trust that still small voice that says “Get back to work.”

I took this yesterday. You can find more here as well as some pictures I took around Skarritt Bennett Center where I am currently staying. I also took a few around the Vanderbilt Campus.

I experienced a treat Friday. I went to Benton Chapel to see Jim Wallis, the author of God’s Politics. I saw Jim on the Daily Show, but I have not read his book. The title of his lecture was “A New Vision for American Politics.” It was an inspiring and challenging lecture that was more like a sermon. I’ll provide a few highlights:

“God is personal, but never private.”–I think many Americans believe that their religion is a private affair and it should not impact their everyday lives. Wallis clearly debunked this myth and said that one reason that the myth exists is that too many times persons are “converted” into a fact or concept rather than being enlisted into God’s program.

He spoke about how the prophets were interested in justice, in poverty, in land, etc. and that these are the “stuff of politics.” One interesting claim he made that I need to run past my archaeology expert is this–when the size of the homes were the same, there were no prophets. When the size of the homes varied greatly, prophets existed.

Most poignant was his description of the “American Bible.” He claimed that, unlike the true Scriptures, it contains little about the poor.

Dear America,

I suppose we should introduce ourselves: We’re South Louisiana.

We have arrived on your doorstep on short notice and we apologize for that, but we never were much for waiting around for invitations. We’re not much on formalities like that.

And we might be staying around your town for a while, enrolling in your schools and looking for jobs, so we wanted to tell you a few things about us. We know you didn’t ask for this and neither did we, so we’re just going to have to make the best of it.

First of all, we thank you. For your money, your water, your food, your prayers, your boats and buses and the men and women of your National Guards, fire departments, hospitals and everyone else who has come to our rescue.

We’re a fiercely proud and independent people, and we don’t cotton much to outside interference, but we’re not ashamed to accept help when we need it. And right now, we need it.

Just don’t get carried away. For instance, once we get around to fishing again, don’t try to tell us what kind of lures work best in your waters.

We’re not going to listen. We’re stubborn that way.

You probably already know that we talk funny and listen to strange music and eat things you’d probably hire an exterminator to get out of your yard.

We dance even if there’s no radio. We drink at funerals. We talk too much and laugh too loud and live too large and, frankly, we’re suspicious of others who don’t.

But we’ll try not to judge you while we’re in your town.

Everybody loves their home, we know that. But we love South Louisiana with a ferocity that borders on the pathological. Sometimes we bury our dead in LSU sweatshirts.

Often we don’t make sense. You may wonder why, for instance - if we could only carry one small bag of belongings with us on our journey to your state - why in God’s name did we bring a pair of shrimp boots?

We can’t really explain that. It is what it is.

You’ve probably heard that many of us stayed behind. As bad as it is, many of us cannot fathom a life outside of our border, out in that place we call Elsewhere.

The only way you could understand that is if you have been there, and so many of you have. So you realize that when you strip away all the craziness and bars and parades and music and architecture and all that hooey, really, the best thing about where we come from is us.

We are what made this place a national treasure. We’re good people. And don’t be afraid to ask us how to pronounce our names. It happens all the time.

When you meet us now and you look into our eyes, you will see the saddest story ever told. Our hearts are broken into a thousand pieces.

But don’t pity us. We’re gonna make it. We’re resilient. After all, we’ve been rooting for the Saints for 35 years. That’s got to count for something.

OK, maybe something else you should know is that we make jokes at inappropriate times.

But what the hell.

And one more thing: In our part of the country, we’re used to having visitors. It’s our way of life.

So when all this is over and we move back home, we will repay to you the hospitality and generosity of spirit you offer to us in this season of our despair.

That is our promise. That is our faith.

Chris Rose can be reached at noroses@bellsouth.net

I’ve received countless emails from people I know well and from people I don’t know that have been upset by my posts (some written on the older blog months ago). I want you all to know that I started this blog as a way to have fun, promote the exchange of ideas, and get things off my chest every now and then.

If you are offended by comments, please feel free to express your disagreement. I believe Christians ought to be able to disagree without being disagreeable. Do I love Fundamentalists? Well, I try to. Do I love narrow-minded Liberals? I try to.

If you can’t try to love me, even though you disagree with me go away.

Some Humans Ain’t Human
John Prine
Fair and Square

Some humans ain’t human
Some people ain’t kind
You open up their hearts
And here’s what you’ll find
A few frozen pizzas
Some ice cubes with hair
A broken Popsicle
You don’t want to go there

Some humans ain’t human
Though they walk like we do
They live and they breathe
Just to turn the old screw
They screw you when you’re sleeping
They try to screw you blind
Some humans ain’t human
Some people ain’t kind

You might go to church
And sit down in a pew
Those humans who ain’t human
Could be sittin’ right next to you
They talk about your family
They talk about your clothes
When they don’t know their own ass
From their own elbows

Jealousy and stupidity
Don’t equal harmony
Jealousy and stupidity
Don’t equal harmony

[Spoken:]
Have you ever noticed
When you’re feeling really good
There’s always a pigeon
That’ll come shit on your hood

Or you’re feeling your freedom
And the world’s off your back
Some cowboy from Texas
Starts his own war in Iraq

Some humans ain’t human
Some people ain’t kind
They lie through their teeth
With their head up their behind
You open up their hearts
And here’s what you’ll find
Some humans ain’t human
Some people ain’t kind

Last Friday I took a trip to St Bernard Parish to visit the church that I served during my time at NOBTS. I knew I was in for trouble when I passed the St Bernard Southern Baptist Church. Dr. Paul Gregoire pastored this church while I was Creedmore Presbyterian Church in St Bernard parish. My church is about ten miles south of the baptist church.

As I traveled south, I saw only police. The land was white and almost looked like snow. Some houses were totally destroyed while others were standing with water-lines anywhere from five feet to the rooflines. It was very quiet. I could only hear the sound of birds, a few dogs, and helicopters. It was eery.

I also saw many items that were misplaced–I saw refrigerators on the side of the street miles from any house. Boats were everywhere. When I arrived at the church, it looked totally normal except for the whiteness of the ground. I was greatful that Mr and Mrs Buck’s stained-glass windows were all OK except one. When I looked in the broken window I found that everything was not OK. The beautiful black piano was turned over in the middle of the sanctuary. The organ that had survived Betsy was also flipped over. The pews were in disarray and there was a layer of sludge on the floor.

I went inside the church through the back door. It had been kicked in by rescue workers, the ubiquitous painted markings on the building showed that no dead bodies had been found in the church. I took about a hundred pictures of the inside of the church. Each corner, each room, each pew held a fond memory. One of my professors in seminary said that you would never find a another church like the first church you served (either good or bad). All my memories of Creedmore are good ones. I’d go back and pastor it right now if they asked.

The water-line on the inside of the church was about six feet high. The water must have drained out of the back of the church because the back hallway was impassible. It had most of the items from the kitchen in it and the back bathroom and nursery were filled with mud and tree limbs.

Eddie and Evelyn’s house next door had quite a bit of furniture on the porch. I couldn’t tell if they rode out the storm or had come back. St Bernard Parish wasn’t officially open when I went in. I decided to go to two more areas before I went back home. Braithwaite, a small community nearby where several of my parishoners live and the trailor park where two of the sweetest ladies of the church live. Braithwaite was still under water. I wondered where my dear friends might be. Next, I went to the trailor park. I had seen a couple of trailor parks that were totally destroyed so I was a bit afraid to go by there. The women there are very poor and I was afraid that they might not have been able to evacuate. I had gotten a bit used to seeing the markings on buildings that had indicated that a body had been found, but I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing it on the home of someone I love.

Much to my surprise, the trailer park was intact. They were flooded of course, but they weren’t totally destroyed! In fact, the hopeful messages painted on the trailers gave me a sense of hope. I can’t wait to get back home so that I can see my friends again. Please remember to pray for the victims of Katrina. It will be YEARS before things are back to “normal” in many areas.

To see more photos go here.

I had no choice but to eat at McDonald’s yesterday. Even on the Westbank there are limited choices. I watched Super Size Me last week with Howie Jr. so I wasn’t able to finish my Big N’ Tasty (ever notice that if you drop the T the name is more fitting?). I’ve never been a McDonald’s fan, but after seeing the movie I will avoid them totally if at all possible. The mom and pop places are usually better for you even if they are a bit more expensive.

Anyhow…..I saw two guys who looked really rough, and hot, and stinky that walked up to the door at McDonalds. They asked if they could go inside to order their “meals.” The nice lady smiled and said, “Sorry, only the drive through is open.” They explained that they didn’t have a car! “Sorry!”

My window was down in my van and I have no sense of smell so I invited them in. I told them that if McDonalds was taking credit cards that I would be glad to buy their lunch.

They said no thanks, they had money but were very hungry. It was about 1:30. Everything takes longer in New Orleans because of the scarcity of open stores. We placed three separate orders and after we got our “food” we said goodby. They were very greatful and I was afraid Shirley might be bothered by the funk when I picked her up. She wasn’t.

It seems this Katrina thing might be making some of us more kind, more trusting, more willing to give and receive help from our neighbors. I thought I’d make a positive post for a change!

On Saturday, I am headed to Nashville to begin work at Vanderbilt Divinity School. I’ve received an appointment as visiting scholar there so that I can continue my research. They have been most gracious and I’m looking forward to spending time in their library!

Yesterday was a really difficult day. We’re back in New Orleans because my wife’s boss demands it. I find it interesting that she’s been able to do her job so well from TN with a dial-up modem! After having driven about 10 hours on Sunday, we wake up early so that we can get son #2 in Archbishop Shaw High School on the Westbank (heard they’re thinking about calling it the Blessed Bank). The school is wonderful and very well organized. My wife starts to write the check for about $5000 and one of the priests tells her to write it for $500, he wants to make sure my son is comfortable at the school so we only need to make monthly payments. What a guy! While Shirley is enrolling him, I take Shirley Jr to St. Andrew the Apostle School a few blocks from my house. A very nice lady explains that they don’t know how many of their students are coming back, so she doesn’t know if there is room available. She asks me to call back the next day.

I pick up Shirley Sr and we go to Salem Lutheran School. They are very helpful and even give Shirley Jr a uniform skirt and we tell them that we will come back to register later. We leave, but Shirley Sr isn’t totally satisfied.

We then go to Shirley’s workplace. A prominent non-profit that is now housed outside New Orleans. Her boss greets her and we see some of her co-workers for the first time since Katrina hit. We all hug (except for her boss) and begin to share our stories. Shirley then asks her boss where she needs to set up shop. He then tells her that this is a “self-service” place and that she needs to set up her stuff on her own. This might not really sound as bad to you as it did to Shirley and me. She has been working sometime 12 and 15 hour days since the hurricane hit so that everyone would continue to receive their checks and get their insurance paid. We were forced to move to a city with no public schools for our kids or my wife would lose her job. We had just tried to get our daughter in a school and had been rejected, we had just committed to spending $5000 for our son’s education (he was attending a public school prior to the hurricane), we were also facing having to spend about $1500 for our daughter’s school until January, we had driven God only knows how many miles the day before, I’m going to have to leave this Friday to work in Nashville until Christmas, etc…..

Shirley sharply replied that she had just walked into the building and didn’t have any idea where to find a table or chair or where she could set up shop without imposing on someone else’s space. The company is sharing the small, one-story building with another non-profit. The IT guy, who is a really great guy, hopped up and got a table for Shirley, told her where the nearest power outlet was and suggested a place for her to work. When I left, I said loud enough for everyone to hear, “Shirley, Is there anything you need ME to do for you before I go?” I got about 5 miles down the road and almost turned around to go open up a can of whoopass. Got to get back on my anti-depressant today.

I got home and started looking up the addresses of several Jefferson Parish schools that I might send Shirley Jr. I then realized that it was after noon so I thought I might call St Andrew the Apostle School to see how full their fourth grade class was. My daughter was very apprehensive about which school (her third one this year) she might attend. The person that I talked to at St Andrews was EXTREMELY rude to me when I called to check. Although I had been told I should call back today, she said they wouldn’t know anything until next week! I won’t repeat our coversation, but she was so rude that I am going to call the principal next week and report her rudeness. We stopped in at a Baptist School, but I was unimpressed. My daughter was given a list of about 50 rules she had to follow before we even knew how much the tuition was! I then went to another Catholic School to see if they had room for my daughter. They were very helpful and said that I would have no problem getting her in. I then drove past two public schools. Shirley Jr said no to one before we even had a chance to stop. The second one was fantastic. The ladies in the office were super-nice. They offered us free uniforms and were so sweet to my daughter. I enrolled her and she went there today! It was then 3pm and my daughter and I hadn’t eaten because in all of our travelling around the Westbank, we hadn’t passed an open fast-food place. We stopped in a mom and pop place and had to wait 30 minutes for our food–ooops, now we’re late for picking up Howie Jr! Rush Rush!

Today has been better. I will have to admit I was overwhelmed at the grocery store this morning. It’s a really terrible feeling to know that when you walk in the door you need everything! Spent around $200 and will fix my family a home cooked meal tonight. I should be able to fix two or three other meals as well. For example—no condiments, no canned goods (gave them all away to Police officers the first time we came home) nothing in fridge or freezer, etc.

However, Southern Baptists from Missouri gave me ice, water, cleaning supplies and a hot meal. Thanks again folks and God bless you!

I usually don’t post many positive things about George W. Bush, but when I saw this on Grrrl Meets World I had to share it:

Donald Rumsfeld is giving the president his daily briefing. He concludes by saying: “Yesterday, 3 Brazilian soldiers were killed in an accident.”

“OH NO!” the President exclaims. “That’s terrible!”

His staff sits stunned at this display of emotion, nervously watching as the President sits, his head cradled in his hands.

Finally, the President looks up and asks………. “How many is a Brazillion?”

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