Last night Mr. Maud got a call from one of his best friends, whose two elderly great aunts were finally found in Gulfport, Mississippi yesterday, stranded ankle-deep in water. Earlier, a friend of mine wrote to say that his girlfriend’s brother-in-law “is holed up at a funeral home in Bay St. Louis helping take care of the bodies. There are currently more than 200 in the parking lot alone.”
And the image above, swiped from the AP, shows Superdome refugees waiting to be taken out of New Orleans today.
No doubt there are far more comprehensive lists online, but if you’re looking for Katrina donation options, I’ve been adding them to the end of my last post.
Here are the last of the literary New Orleans links:
- Writer Ken Foster, founder of the KGB Bar Reading Series, moved to New Orleans a few years ago. He checks in from Atlanta today. He’s started a blog called Here is New Orleans.
- At The Simon, Alan Williams says, “Waxing literary feels, at best, beside-the-point in a time of national crisis, but with New Orleans on the mind perhaps there is no better occasion to discover or remember The City that Time Forgot — one of many under-used and misunderstood nicknames — through the eyes of southern writers.”
- At Teleread, Robert Nagle rounds up links about public domain works by New Orleans writers, including Kate Chopin.
- Anthony reminds me of Rob Walker’s Letters from New Orleans, which I discovered, possibly thanks to Bob Sassone, sometime last year. They’re always worth a second look.
- If you haven’t followed links to the other New Orleans literary round-ups I’ve mentioned, Scott Eyman of the Palm Beach Post did a fine job yesterday.
- And be sure to read a summary of what Walker Percy’s cousin had to say about the Great Flood of 1927, which threatened New Orleans. Thirteen thousand African American refugees were left stranded on a Greenville, Mississippi levee (scroll down) while the white women were taken away on a big ship. Good thing that could never happen today.
I’m heading out to visit in-laws on the Keweenaw Peninsula, where ancient, striped rocks line the coast of Lake Superior, blueberries grow by the side of the road, and you can throw a pebble and hit a defunct copper mine.
Back next Wednesday.