Submitted by: lois Posted: Monday, June 12, 2006 The state of louisianna has treated us like second class citizens. The hurricane benefits was to end on june 3, 2006, not may 13, 2006. I haven't gotten an unemployment check since May 13, 2006. I'm going to the newspapers out here in Atlanta. The best source is CNN, Atlanta's Journal, and contact Congressman, and any media that will listen. That why my family and I will not come back to a place that don't want us and try to kills us.

Submitted by: jimmartin Posted: Monday, June 12, 2006 My name is Jim Martin. When Hurricane Katrina struck on Aug 29 2005, I lived at 1719 Jackson Ave in Uptown New Orleans. I lived in the twenty percent of New Orleans that did not flood when the levees broke. I remained in New Orleans for six days after Katrina struck. I left aboard a bus on Sunday, September 4 and arrived in Geneva Alabama on Monday afternoon September 5. After Katrina struck on Monday and the levees broke on Tuesday August 30, flooding eighty percent of the city, I found myself and my roommate, Marquis Dye, 29, left trapped, abandoned and stranded, afoot and unable to escape. Sunday night, August 28, I slept through the hurricane. I lived in a small one story apt between two large three story houses. My two roommates and a dog slept in the front room and I slept in the back bedroom. I did not hear the winds howling around the corners of the house. I awoke Monday morning and walked to my front door. I looked out and the water was running like a river down the street. It drained away from the river north toward Lake Ponchartrain How ever, by sundown that water had drained away and left water only in the gutters on either side of the street. One of my roommates, Calvin Dawson, 39, who had been living with us for only a few weeks, decided he had better make good his escape. He disappeared early that morning and we have not seen or heard from him since. He hitchhiked out of New Orleans before the two levees broke. I later discovered his photo and interview on the internet on the City Pages of St Paul Minneapolis Minnesota. The electricity had gone off during the night caused by falling tree limbs blown by the wind and rain. Marquis and his pit bulldog named Dolly and I found ourselves witnessing that day the looting of the local Wal Mart, located seventeen blocks from our apartment on Tchoupitoulas Street by the Mississippi River. We saw dozens and dozens of black people of all ages, shapes and sizes, and a few whites, pushing shopping carts full of beer, soft drinks, bottled water, 2 whiskey, wine down the street from the direction of Wal Mart toward their homes past our block. We saw very few police cars that Monday and the four following days. That Monday morning I decided to walk about the neighborhood in the affluent section called the lower Garden District. I walked up Jackson Avenue and saw a large old live oak tree that the wind had felled next to the Ramada Inn. It fell toward St Charles Avenue, sprawled on the sidewalk blocking pedestrian traffic. I walked to the intersection of St Charles and Jackson, one and a half blocks from my apt. I walked down St Charles toward Lee Circle on the neutral ground between the inbound and outbound streetcar tracks. I saws dozens of crepe myrtle bushes uprooted and felled on the streetcar tracks or on the street next to them. Broken tree limbs littered sidewalks, store fronts and the streets on either side of the streetcar tracks. Large tree limbs had fallen and blocked the streets, making passage by vehicles impossible. I chanced to meet with one of my acquaintances named Troy, an elderly man with a small, wiry frame and no teeth, whose face and body indicated the ravages of years of alcohol abuse/ consumption. He proved articulate and intelligent when I had met him a few months earlier, and he and I had become friendly. Our tour covered the area between Lee Circle and Jackson Ave and St Charles and Magazine Streets, called the Lower Garden District. We walked around surveying the damage to trees, shrubs, flower beds, houses, apartments, windows and business structures. We saw one two story house that had been under extensive renovation collapsed now beyond repair. We saw countless piles of limbs from the old, large, umbrella style branches of live oak trees at the park that sets next to Magazine Street. We found ourselves with jaws dropped when we would see a house with a window blown out or roof shingles missing or a tree limb fallen on a roof, next to a house that stood untouched. Troy soon tired of walking and I continued alone. I crossed over Jackson and 3 entered the wealthier residential section with larger and more architecturally impressive homes. I had to step over and step around countless tree limbs. I saw giant ancient live oak and magnolia trees that had stood since the 19th Century topped across streets. Broken and downed power lines and cable tv and phone wires lay along every street on both sides. I greeted a few white elderly men who had remained behind to protect their homes and property, raking leaves or picking up limbs on their front yards or lawns. I did not realize what I had slept through. I have lived in New Orleans since 1991 and I had never seen this much damage to homes, property and trees in any previous hurricanes. The streets were relatively dry. I saw a few low spots at street corners and intersections covered in water. I returned home to spend time with Marquis and his dog. We had some canned food in the house. The previous night I had filled the bathtub with water and collected water in glass mayonnaise jars. The gas stove continued to operate. I could boil water and wash dishes. My telephone still worked, to my great surprise. I called my sister in Utah and told her we were still all in one piece but scared because of the many looters in the neighborhood. She said she would pray for me. I told her I would call her back if conditions worsened. They did. I stayed with the apartment while Marquis walked about scavenging any canned goods, bottled water, and soft drinks and fruit juice that looters had dropped in their flight from the Williams Grocery on the corner of St Charles and Jackson, or from the Walgreen’s four blocks down the street or from Zara’s Supermarket on Prytania Street, four blocks from our place. I last saw Marquis on Friday morning when he went down to the Convention Center to fetch some water that his foster father, who lives in New Mexico, had told him he could retrieve, according to reports he had seen on tv. Marquis took his dog and apparently found himself effectively kidnaped. I later called his foster father and he said Marquis had made it to 4 Albequerque, and was living in an apartment paid for with FEMA funds. I escaped on Sunday, September 4, after another of my neighbors and I walked down to the Superdome with our luggage and caught a bus to Jackson, Mississippi. I had learned anew what fear means.

Submitted by: Dean Posted: Monday, June 12, 2006 I have a panasonic fax machine and a lexmark printer in nearly new condition, both only used once. Also have a wooden 26"x 52" seven drawer desk in good condition. These are perfect donations items for any small business in the Mississippi or Louisiana gulf coast hit hard by Katrina. Can ship the fax/printer to you, the desk will require a truck heading in your direction from my area. I am in Culpeper County, Virginia. Would like to Donate these items to any small town in the devestated area. Can Slidell,La. or Waveland,Miss.use them? E-mail me at.....donniellama55@yahoo.com Thank you and God Bless you and keep you wrapped in His arms.

Submitted by: Lynette Posted: Monday, June 12, 2006 I too am I Katrina victim now living in Georgia. I have probably faired well compared to some who have been displaced. I have a rent-free home and have found work - although I am paid much less than I have earned in the past 20 or so years. I am grateful to have recovered some type of order and routine to my life. But what I truly want to do is go home. I miss New Orleans. I grew up there as a child and left as an adult and returned after raising a family in the north. I have never felt at home anywhere but Uptown and I long to go home. New Orleans - the only place in the world that has ever accepted me just as I am. I will never be whole again.