Gentilly Girl- a part of the 99%

Many years ago my mother helped me when I awoke screaming from a nightmare (which was every night for 13 years). I was crying and scared… feeling like I didn’t matter in the scheme of Life. Mom said, “All people are important. None are worthless.” I calmed down with that knowledge that there was a reason for being alive and went back to a blissful sleep. I felt that there was some form of order, reason, to every day.
I can’t sleep now.

It’s been over 40 years since that night. I have learned much through those years by traveling the World, meeting and talking with folks… learning about myself and what makes all of us tick. I have witnessed horrible things and beautiful ones too. I’ve seen the worst and the most touching of things in my time. I know what Death is (having been a party to it), and I understand Life. Often I laid awake and wondered why I’m still alive, and the only comfort was the Goddess, whispering into my ear (much like my mom), that it’s all a part of this insane game we call Living.

Two years ago I was a happy little spirit. Had my best friend with me, had a nice house, had friends… was correcting the harms done to me after birth that totally fucked up most of my 48 years living on this planet, and then a demon came into the picture. She was named Katrina. As normal for a Gulf Coaster, I tracked the Miserable Bitch from day one to almost landfall.

Little did I know that She would shatter my life in so many ways. (Both good and bad…)
At this moment in time it’s late August, 2005. I’m tracking a hurricane, looking at where it will go. I’m prepping the house to hold several friends who need a safe harbor. Tomorrow I will clean the entire place. I’m trying to catch up on all my work for the Transsexual community. I’m beginning to get afraid that I’m going to call this storm wrongly, and Betty (who trusts my instincts) could be put into danger. A part of my persona has been activated… every breeze and sound catches my attention. I watch the birds and squirrels. Nothing seems to be out of place. I dig deep in the soil of my vegetable garden, and nothing seems wrong… there’s just a storm coming.
I’m in my little office on the East side of the house. Betts is across the room working yet another computer deal. The Siamese is sleeping in the little chair that I keep for customers. I’m working on doing a third album of music… trying to figure out how to do all the video from two months previous in Houston for Gay Pride. My good old IBM has a constant link for storm tracking. I’m thinking of Betty’s upcoming vacation, the legal stuffs that we need to do and her upcoming B’Day. I keep scanning the computer models concerning the storm.

I am thinking that I should rebuild the waterfall and ponds in the courtyard. (wait ’til the storm passes) I need to fix the window that Cindy cracked weeks before. Maybe we should buy shutters so that we don’t get hit by storm-driven debris. (No fucking time for that now) We have all we need. There’s water and food and I can cover almost anyone’s needs. I do more laundry. Clean the bathrooms and call folks in order to have them come here for the storm. (Yeppers, I have lots of beer and whiskey)

Should I send Betts and the cat away? I don’t run from things. Did Betsy, Camille, Loma Prieta…. tons of typhoons, a blizzard in the Teton Wilderness, Cape Rollers, was in St. Helen’s caldera days before the eruption… I have seen almost every kind of shit one can find… survived them too, something’s way freakin’ wrong. I’m sensing something. Am I finally coming down with AIDS Dementia?

Little did I know that a disaster was going to occur and it would be from the hands of men and a freakin’ money grubbing culture. That I would wind up seeing such fucking horror, racial hatred and outright non-caringness (and some wonderful acts of selflessness and love). That I would have to fight battles that I never saw the reason for happening. Things that would show me what it means to be Human.
The insanity of the Natural Disaster to the Gulf Coast and the man-made one in New Orleans two years ago must never be forgotten. Heroes and heroines must be praised, and the damned demons that screwed so many must be brought to justice. Never fucking again should this kind of shit happen!

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Over the next few days I’m going to be writing about those few days two years ago. What it means to me, how it’s changed my life and of those I cherish. How much those events challenged and strengthened my belief about all things and how I came to discard an entire world-view of Reality.