Gotta love Dolly Parton. She's on Larry King:

"Does being called a dumb blonde offend you?"

"No, because I know I'm not dumb and I know I'm not blonde."

Lor', chile. I never lost anything in Monroe, LA, that I couldn't do without.

In fact, since I-49 was finished, I don't even have to drive past the place.

Monroe News-Star: 30% in Monroe shelters have criminal histories

Choice quotes:

[...] The background checks were conducted because of Sheriff Richard Fewell's concerns about the safety of evacuees living at the shelter and Red Cross volunteers working there.[...]

[...] "We've run approximately 900 of the names we were provided by the Red Cross and of that 900, approximately 30 percent have some sort of criminal history," said Ouachita Parish Sheriff's Deputy Bobby Baker. "We had a feeling that was what we were dealing with. We also found people this morning that's not on the list."[...]

[...] The background checks, based on information from the National Crime Information Center database, found evacuees who had been charged with various offenses from drunk and disorderly to first-degree murder, Baker said. But in most cases, NCIC doesn't tell local law enforcement officials whether those people in the database have been convicted of a crime.[...]

From an article by Lynn Peterson, June 2001:

[...] If the subject has a common name many records will be found for that name that have nothing to do with the subject. Therefore, all case files found on the index with the same name must be examined for a match to date of birth, and sometimes Social Security number or driver's license number. It will also be necessary to examine the case files to determine the charges and the dispositions. The large online public records vendors provide online access to county criminal court records in some jurisdictions in California, Arizona and Texas. However, in many locations the only information available is name of defendant, case number, and date. Penal code violations may or may not be listed, and disposition is rarely included.[...]

I think that is this Lynn Peterson. And this one.

This is solid evidence of the old North-South Louisiana split.

It's evident in the black community in Monroe, too: Monroe Free Press.

UPDATE: Here is the Red Cross entry form to enter their database.

As far as applying for benefits or shelter, there seems only a requirement to prove that individuals and families lived in a disaster area. Identification numbers are the Red Cross' own.

You're welcome to correct me.

People vs. FEMA. Ex-NBA star takes his company to Pascagoula to clear ground for stricken residents and runs into red tape.

Come to think of it, it was illegal to serve food from my kitchen to the evacuees at the church. My kitchen is not officially sanctioned. I haven't heard that anyone got sick.

UPDATE: Lyman tells me I wasn't illegal, because I wasn't under the auspices of the government.

On the other hand, I will tell the Southern Baptist church that I will never become a member. First, I will never give over my will to a man, and second, I have a homosexual brother whom I will never renounce or diminish.

Pariah, Pariah,
And they called the wind Pariah ...

(Thank you, Mr. Balko.)

Speaking of help, Daniel Morris has posted some suggestions about how people can help one another more directly in emergency situations, and would like some feedback.

Leave comments at his post.

Mostly Cajun lost his home and pets to fire after Rita passed.

According to him, Boudreaux and Thibodeaux might be the butts of lots of jokes, but they're the boys you want at your right hand in times of trouble.

Scroll down for his story.

Best to you and your neighbors, sir.

Let us know how we can help.

(Thanks to Indigo Insights and Nate McCord.)

UPDATE: Mostly Cajun also remembers jokes.

Working on a washing machine Rit Dye project today. Wish me luck.

UPDATE: That worked well.

I had bought table covers for the two cheap stands we use as end tables in our bedroom. I ordered them online, and was pleased as punch with the design but not the color. Other offered colors were less appealing. So I fixed it.

I have some confidence now. If this color isn't satisfactory, I'll do it again.

I do not tend to beat my breast when I perceive something that others don't.

But, watching CNN covering their ass this evening, I would like to point out this post and comments from August 31, when I told you what would happen with this coverage.

Maybe my journalism degree ain't totally worthless, after all.

UPDATE: Personally, I believe that a great many journalists are both stupid and racist. I prefer to be stupid and racist on my own time.

This Nola in Exile story speaks to me.

When we returned from our trip to Colorado, the first place we went was to a Piccadilly Cafeteria in New Orleans. Before we left, I ran to the bathroom, leaving my eyeglasses on the table. When we returned to the table, the glasses were gone. The girl who had cleared the table walked up and said, "Here they are, Sugarfoot. I thought you had left."

Sugarfoot. I hadn't heard that in years.

Don't get me wrong. Coloradans are friendly people, just not the same.

For every little boy who has lived where it snows, this is for you.

(Thank you, Agitator.)

More tornado damage from Sunday morning's weather.

I just drove the six blocks to pick up some chili my mother-in-law made today.

When I returned to the car with the pot, I said, "Let's open this side door. I have rubber mats back here."

There was no rubber mat. (The kids have been using my car.) There was a jewel case for "Booty Hits" instead.

UPDATE: By gosh, if these boys weren't grown, I'd teach 'em a thing or two about booty hits.

So the nigras didn't devolve into savages, after all?

Must be a cover-up sommeres.

Sorry, silly ...

(I put up this link because it links to Rick Stuart's comments, and buy that man a beer.)


UPDATE: You'll note in the comments to Mr. Stuart's post that someone brings up this story.

I certainly don't deny that New Orleans had a dreadful murder rate. But I don't see any numbers in this story. Are we talking 10 gunshot victims? 30? 100?

Not a great many months ago I read a story on nola.com about a mentally retarded, black, teenaged boy being chased and gunned down in his neighborhood for fun, it appears.

A woman was abducted, raped, and if I remember correctly, murdered in an alley on Christmas day one year.

There were and are bad actors down there. How many?

UPDATE II: Juliette Ochieng has a different take.

The events of the past few weeks have created a fundamental change in me.

This morning, considering options for a rare breakfast, I discovered that nothing would do but grits with butter, salt and pepper.

Kris Alexander's blog has some first-hand reporting of managing evacuation to Austin, Texas, and return.

(Thank you, Scott Chaffin. And Mr. Alexander, especially.)

Lyman's weather station has many nifty qualities. One thing its software does is adds up rainfall amounts. We received 4.16" since Friday night, bringing our total for the month to 4.40".

It also provided a chart of wind velocities. We had gusts up to 20 mph before we woke yesterday.

The sun is shining today.

And that seems to be about it. Good riddance.

But I do believe I'll stay awake to see Rita off. She should only be another hour or two. Malicious slut.

UPDATE: One last ugly cell just passed south and east of us. Be careful over there.

Off to bed now.

Here comes another ugly red spot.

It's raining at the rate of 5.88" per hour.

This storm is going to destroy my marriage.

Lyman woke me from a dead sleep to tell me that the tornado siren sounded. But he didn't say that.

He whimpered some mealy-mouthed crap about how he needed help with the birds, because the storm was bad.

Good Lord, boy. You're worse than my father was at waking me up. Mother was matter-of-fact.

By the way, the tornado didn't hit us, but it's a nasty-looking piece on radar.

Our cable TV has been out for hours.

"Where's the emergency radio station?"

"I dunno."

::GLARE::

The fellow at the fire department told us it was sighted south of Ferriday.

UPDATE: It didn't miss everybody.

The big boys have Miller Time and birds have millet time. 8:30. Routine, routine, routine.

Here comes the rain again ...

2.48" an hour.

Good boy! It broke up.

There's an ugly red spot on the radar headed for us. We are in the path of the feeder band coming from the Gulf.

The power went out at about 3:50, a blown transformer.

How about a hand for the linemen?

In the meantime, the rainfall rate here went to 7.78" an hour. You couldn't see across the street. It didn't stay there long.

We only received .8" since I last posted.

Now that's rain. It's falling at the rate 4.97" an hour.

Now down to 1.95.

Now 2.62.

Lt. Gen. Honore, the Ragin' Cajun, is on his way to Lake Charles. No wonder reporters are staying away. Sir.

I think it's right cool that every news channel has correspondents showing us where the damage is not, and none showing where the damage is -- like Lake Charles.

Don't they know the bars are better in Louisiana?

CORRECTION: Mark Biello, photojournalist with CNN, is in Lake Charles. And there's Rick Sanchez.

Thank you very much. Back under a tornado watch until 9 p.m.

Tell you, we could use the rain, but I would have been happier were it the result of a clash of pressure fronts from the Gulf and Missouri.

Watching the wireless of Lyman's little weather station in the back yard, at noon today we are getting variable winds from the SSE, gusting no higher than about 12 mph. Without being harmful, the wind is making a perfect mess of twigs and such in the yard.

Now, big boys, follow up on your interview yesterday with Ms. Avery in Galveston, the strong-willed and self-assured elderly black woman who refused to evacuate from her home of 50 years.

In the words of Randy Newman:

"They're trying to wash us away, they're trying to wash us away."

Nothing much happening here, so I'll give you the recipe for Vidalia popcorn, in just the increments my mother gave my recipes to me:

Fresh okra

1/2 all-purpose cornmeal and 1/2 all-purpose flour, enough to dredge the vegetable

Salt and pepper to taste

Now. Wash the okra, cut off the tops and sharp ends, and cut into 3/4" to 1" lengths. Throw them in a corner of the sink and keep them moistened with water.

Mix the cornmeal and flour in a large bowl with a fair shot of salt and pepper. Put a colander into the sink. You'll want it for shaking off excess.

Set the deep fryer to 375 and wait for it to heat up.

When it's hot, toss small batches of the okra (for me, about 4 hands full) into the dredging bowl, cover well, and shake the excess off in a colander and put them into the fryer basket. Drop the basket into the oil.

Let them cook for six minutes or so. Poke pieces with a fork. You want the batter crisp without the okra becoming crisp as paper.

To your satisfaction, lift the basket, let it drain, then toss the pieces onto paper towels to absorb oil. Taste. Salt if necessary.

Enjoy.

That's it. We didn't buy the generator and the power just flickered.

The power flickers here when Elfrieda Johnson lifts her skirt.

It's gonna be a long night. We're under a tornado watch until 6 a.m.

If you consider Louisiana a boot, we are a bit up from instep, just above the ankle. We are catching outer bands, which means a lot of rain, light wind, and, yes, the threat of spin-off tornados.

As you might imagine, I'm watching Rita closely. Through Brendan Loy, I found links to Dr. Jeff Masters and Steven Gregory, both well-qualified observers of the storm data.

Again, everyone in Rita's path, stay safe, be kind, and God bless.

UPDATE: Matt Welch is collecting good links for Rita at this post at Hit and Run.

And one yellow ribbon comes down.

I asked if there was something I can do for him. No go.

Seems the gentleman seeks favor from someone younger and closer than I am.

If I seem erratic, or odd, it's because Katrina has pushed about every button on my panel. I read this yesterday:

One of my friends asked if I could go in the house first, for in the back room they had to leave their birds in their cage; they had to leave them behind because they didn't have anyway to transport them. Several of their local friends said that they would go into the house and get them, but no further contact could be made due to the phone lines being down. Stepping over fallen wires and broken limbs, I climbed the porch and crawled over the massive tree that had fallen across the yard and porch. I placed the key in the deadbolt and after several attempts, finally got the lock undone and opened the door and was greeted with a musty and damp smell. I made my way to the back of the house and parted the curtain that closed off the back room from the rest of the house and looked into the bird cage, hoping that their friends had made it by and taken the birds out. Please, please, please, please.

I buried them in the back yard in the garden. Neither of them could do it and they asked me to take care of it. A little over a month ago during my birthday trip to New Orleans (which marked my 15th trip to the city in 5 years), I sat on the back porch with them as they sang and talked to me. As I dug the hole to place them in, I realized that I had gone numb. When I found them, they were lying at the bottom of the cage; much like two lovers might do if they knew that their time on this earth was ending, facing each other and their bodies were so close, like they were holding one another. That image will never leave my mind.

That's from Nola.com, NOLA in Exile.

So, you see, I am a silly southern girl.

How many ways can you find to break my heart?

Hmmm. A first-hand account from an evacuee from the Marigny-Faubourg area, in the New York Press.

(By way of a commenter at Hit and Run)

Why am I not surprised?

Silly birds.

They did the funniest thing yesterday.

We had some French bread left over from dinner. I gave both Lucy and Charlie a piece. They were happily snarfing away, then Charlie ran out.

I gave Charlie another piece. Lucy dropped the piece she had in her foot and took Charlie's new piece away. Charlie reached over and took it back. Lucy started eating from the piece that Charlie had in his foot.

Last I saw, they both had a small piece.

Idiot kids. They don't starve. They're both plump as bowling pins.

Welcome to the life boat party, chile. I'm nothing special at all.

(Bless her, Joan has a good heart, but she's a lousy writer. I can say such a thing because I don't work for her anymore, and haven't in a long time. But she does, indeed, have a sweet heart.)

I always thought we'd be more alike than different. Here is Donna Brazile.

Thank you, Dr. Taylor.

This is America. We are not immune to tragedy here, but we are strong because of our industriousness, our ingenuity and, most important, because of our compassion for one another. We are a nation of rebuilders and a nation of givers. We do not give up in the face of tragedy, we stand up, and we reach out to help those who cannot stand up on their own.

Here comes Daniel:

Just an observation: Shock wears off. People begin blinking. Soon, maybe tomorrow, lots of folks will shake off the awful oh-my-God-what-just-happened-to-me feeling. Beware!

Tempers will flare. Tears held back by a miraculous calm will start to flow. Drivers will rediscover rage. Grief. Despair. Insane laughter. After a little while, equilibrium returns. But this may be a bad weekend. Perform random acts of kindness. Commit senseless acts of beauty. We’re going to need ’em.

And, I may be wrong. I hope so. But around town today I saw people looking up. Things that hurt too much to bear stirred in their eyes, promising to be borne. An edge crept into people’s voices. So watch out. Be kind. Remember the first law of the sea.

That, as I learned it, was always to render aid to anyone in need. That seems a wise rule, and a fair one, for we are all shipmates in a storm. We are all shipmates in a storm, and the sea is very dark, and very deep, and very forever. So be safe, and render aid in need. God bless.

Before I start here, I am going to reference this post.

Now that my anger is in some kind of bounds, I'm gonna give it to the big boys.

You expected it, you wanted it, and you helped create it.

You sorry, silly MFs, I hope you suffer from this day forward.

Go cover Britney's baby. That's where you shine.

Bush's speech is putting Charlie right to sleep.

Today is the first anniversary of hurricane Ivan.

Our condo complex is still recovering a year later. Some units still don't have windows.

Some places near Pensacola, where the hurricane hit hardest, are still a mess.

Mercy.

Michael and his girl carried chicken and dumplings to my brother last night, then he called them back for margaritas.

There is good news in our little city. One yellow ribbon that I know of is coming down this week.

These lyrics bear repeating, not for my sake:

I left a good job in the city
Working for the man every night and day
And I never lost one minute of sleeping
Worrying ’bout the way things might have been

Big wheel keep on turning
Proud mary keep on burning
And we’re rolling, rolling
Rolling on the river

Cleaned a lot of plates in memphis
Pumped a lot of tane down in new orleans
But I never saw the good side of the city
Till I hitched a ride on a riverboat queen

Big wheel keep on turning
Proud mary keep on burning
And we’re rolling, rolling
Rolling on the river

If you come down to the river
I bet you gonna find some people who live
You don’t have to worry if you got no money
People on the river are happy to give

Well yes, I did quote that for my sake.

Now for a little cheer from Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, who has been working hard as a volunteer at a shelter in Lake Providence:

"Jury of Your Peers"

I just got off the phone with my cousin Katherine in Arkansas. Katherine's one of those people I call when I need a laugh. She's a good story-teller and she works as a stenographer at the courthouse, so she always has a couple good ones to tell.

This morning she was telling me about a recent case that came to trial. The defendant is not very well liked in their town. Katherine said to change the names here if I used her story, so we'll call him Lenny. From all accounts, Lenny has been a pain in the town's collective back side for a long time. Everyone knows his word is worthless and his handshake means nothing. He'd rather climb a tree and tell a lie than stand on the ground and tell the truth.

Lenny's lawyer knew how the town felt about his client. He tried to have the case moved to another jurisdiction but the judge denied the appeal so they went to trial. After three days of intense testimony the jury retired. Katherine said the door hadn't shut on them good when they sent word to the judge that they had reached a verdict. A few minutes everyone watched while the jury filed back in the courtroom and took their seats.

The judge addressed the foreman, "Sir, has the jury reached a decision?"

"We have your honor."

"Would you please read it to the court?"

"Yes sir, in our opinion, we don't think Lenny did it because we don't believe evidence has been shown that he was there. But we would like the court to know that we're all pretty sure he would have if he'd been given a shot at it."

How about life in a small town?

Early yesterday, a uniformed gentleman with the electric company knocked on the door, and told me that a limb was laying on a power line, and that power would be cut at 4 p.m. for about ten minutes during removal.

And so it came to pass.

Daniel Morris is on the blogroll at left because he is coping with the effects of Katrina on his home in Slidell, LA, hard hit by the hurricane.

We both forgot until a friend called that today is Lyman's birthday. For several years that day has been in shadow.

What did he do for the dinner? He helped plan and did all the shopping (under summat adverse conditions). Picked chicken.

The boy is cool. I like him.

UPDATE: When I say adverse conditions, I mean he had to buy 2 2-lb. bags of flour rather than a five pound. There were no large jars of olives at Wal-mart, of all places. "Janis, I could only find two hens at the store, but I found these three large fryers."

He didn't have to bribe with my body, or anything close. (Which might have obtained for us half a pound of pinto beans.)

Oh, and I learned that chicken and dumplings are not a comfort staple in New Orleans as they are up here.

There were several people who hadn't tasted them before, and they liked them.

And I learned that I am too old to make a career in food service.

Egads, my back.

I learned that Michael and his girl will step up and pitch in. They took over salad duties.

I learned that Fritz Schranck is the only one of you who has a clue about portions.

Thanks, Fritz.

I made the chicken and dumplings chock full of chicken for good protein. I prefer more dumplings, but I also haven't been homeless for two weeks.

We used two hens and five of the biggest fryers we could find, and turned up with something near six gallons.

As it turned out, only about 30 people showed, but there was plenty to feed 20 more. Luckily, the main dish freezes well. If we can find the space.

First of all, I learned that you can feed people a respectable Sunday dinner that you might make at home for about $2.50 a head.

The green salad was a hit.

The base was mixed iceberg, green leaf and red leaf lettuce, colored with grated carrot.

We set up a salad bar so people could make choices. Choices were: grape tomatoes, celery, cucumber, radishes, red onions, green olives and Bac-o's, with a choice of Ranch or Thousand Island dressing. The church supplied the dressings, and didn't tell us there was no Italian until too late.

One woman said it was a long time since she had seen a tomato.

And in a horrible time when people depend on the goodwill of others, they had at least a few options.

Geez, what a learning curve.

How weird am I?

I had a dream after I came home from Dallas.

Lucy started talking. I mean talking like you and I talk to one another.

Her voice was that of an educated Hispanic young woman, I'd say 21-22, a native Spanish speaker.

I asked her why she hadn't talked before. She said she was afraid that I would exploit her, but that she was reassured.

Calling Mr. Freud, please. Honk, tweet.

Work as you will at being strong, but Chris's 8-year-old has me crying out loud:

My 8 yr old sobbed holding his favorite beannie babies and stuffed animals. I told him he didn't have to give anything away if it would make him so sad. And he said that as sad as it was making him, he knew that there were other kids even sadder and his favorite toys might make them feel a little better. As he put them into the box he kissed them one by one and told them to enjoy their adventure.

OK, kids, I need some help.

I have never cooked for a big group of people.

How many gallons of chicken and dumplings to feed 50 people?

Assignment due Sunday evening.

Hmmmm.

Why not?

By way of Sean Kinsell, here's an account of a couple's stay at the Superdome, from Michael Demmons.

(Funny how those gay people write just like everybody else. May not even be left-handed, you know?)

But, I am a mother. So, when Michael and his girl came in to borrow a pot for soup, I said, "Merry Christmas!"

Because I had found a perfect pot on sale (Calphalon, hard-anodized, 8-quart, $19.99, Amazon) and stored it in the closet.

He's a big boy. He can handle it.

You know, I'm feeling a little sick.

I spoke to Craig Johnson today. He is on the ground in New Orleans. His business is heating and cooling, and he is working on a building there.

He lost everything once in Camille, and he is running a little thin.

He asks for prayers.

Another day.

I received an e-mail from a woman in Arkansas today who bought a parrot from the Johnsons. She hadn't heard and was worried.

She told me she is willing to help them any way she can.

I was able to reassure her that they are fine.

Another instance of small blogs.

Our local grocery chain offers a stamp for every $10 worth of groceries you buy.

I've been collecting these things for years, but haven't filled my books to redeem them. Each book is worth a $5 discount at the store.

When these are filled, I'm interested in finding local households where people are keeping relatives, friends and strangers.

UPDATE: $95

Scott Chaffin asks that we post his offer again. He has property in Glen Rose, just south of Dallas, with RV hookups.

Please consider donating, for long-term use, your idle RV or travel trailer. We are opening our park to our good neighbors from Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama who have lost so much in Hurricane Katrina. We have RV hookups available for their use, but we don’t have RVs. Your donation can make all the difference in the world to people who are looking for a place to call home for a few weeks or months as they sort through the aftermath. It’s absolutlely crucial that we all work together to help out our friends and family. Please email (info@buckbrazos.com) or call (254-898-2825) if you’re able and willing to help out. We can help make arrangements for getting your RV or fifth-wheel to our place. Buck loves to drive.

Pass the word, please. I’m just one dude. Make it ationwide, too. I expect that there are more RV parks and campgrounds like mine that can take this kind of idea and run with it, just like we’re doing here.

I haven't met Mr. Chaffin in person, but I've read his blog for years. Nothing leads me to suspect he's doing a thing but trying to help people here.

Something I haven't seen elsewhere.

Radley Balko suggests donating to Modest Needs which can help those householders keeping evacuees in their homes.

I finally got through to the Johnsons today.

They have many trees down and old oaks uprooted, but nothing hit the house, where 15 people stayed. All the people are fine. All the birds are fine.

Craig's sister's house in Bay St. Louis is a slab. Cousins also lost theirs.

Shellie Tomlinson has requested that everyone search for relatives or friends of a young woman staying now in Lake Providence:

Tara Lee
African-American
DOB 7-16-82
Address in New Orleans:
4927 Perrier St.
NO, LA 70115
She is eight months pregnant

Contact number in Lake Providence - 318-559-4030

Her name is in the Red Cross database. Check with your local shelters to see if there is someone who knows this young woman.

Here is a link to Louisiana newspapers.

I went down to the local church where about 40 people are staying. The one thing the staffers could think of that they needed right now is long-distance minutes.

I guess when you're not hungry or filthy or exposed, you want most to keep touch with your loved ones.

What a pretty story in dark days. Thank you, Mr. Farber.

Sean Kinsell reminds me to be kind.

This is from the comment thread from Brendan Loy's post below:

Brown is incompetant. And did cost lives. No chain of command exists. I worked the rescue boats on Wednesday. It was impossible to get large boats across the railroad between south of 610 and north of I10. We carried small boats across but if you put a boatman and two LE in a boat then you only have room for 4 or 5 refugees, if someone bails. We could have crossed large boats with the help of an excavauter or backhoe that drove along the tracks from the high ground westof Metarie. When I told this to the search and rescue team leaders on site they all thought that it was a good idea. They recommended that I tell Mike Brown. Are you kidding me? I am a 1SG in the USAR. If I have an idea on how to save lives in a combat situation I don't wait to talk to Donald Rumsfield. Government is not the solution. We had over 300 boats from Acadiana and 75% were turned around at the launch site. A local politician (state senator) organized the boat lift but when asked if he was in charge he denied it. Enough screw-ups to go around. If I hadn't been so anxiuos to get my boat in the water and had done a recon we may have accomplished more. When the pol backed away from leadership I dismissed him. I should have used him to get me in for a recon and then to meet with some official instead of tearing off to another launch site. Eventually I put twenty of our boats in the water with a SWAT team from OPSD. We crossed small boats over Orleans canal and Airboats over Bayou St. John.
Bullshark | 09.04.05 - 6:54 pm | #

Again, I'm not trying to be hateful or assess blame, but you've got a crew of 100 medical personnel who are told to watch CNN for information, and a guy in the field who's supposed to call Mike Brown.

For an emergency that has been expected for decades.

Lyman says, "Contractors are making up words down there. De-water Plaquemines?

"De water is what de boat goes in."

Gary Farber brings up the Meet the Press interview with another of Lyman's law school mates, Aaron Broussard, president of Jefferson Parish.

If you can make sense of FEMA's actions in the circumstances he mentions, let me know.

Just for the record, I also called the people in hotels in Dallas refugees.

One takes refuge from a storm.

But I won't use the word if it's a sensitive one.

I agree totally with this post by Brendan Loy.

Scott Chaffin has property in Glen Rose, just south of Dallas, with RV hook-ups. Here's his post:

Working on this:

Please consider donating, for long-term use, your idle RV or travel trailer. We are opening our park to our good neighbors from Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama who have lost so much in Hurricane Katrina. We have RV hookups available for their use, but we don’t have RVs. Your donation can make all the difference in the world to people who are looking for a place to call home for a few weeks or months as they sort through the aftermath. It’s absolutlely crucial that we all work together to help out our friends and family. Please email (info@buckbrazos.com) or call (254-898-2825) if you’re able and willing to help out. We can help make arrangements for getting your RV or fifth-wheel to our place. Buck loves to drive.

Pass the word, please. I’m just one dude. Nationwide, too. I expect that there are more RV parks and campgrounds like mine that can take this kind of idea and run with it, just like we’re doing here.

Here's a good story from New Orleans.

Lyman's law school buddy that we contacted today, and whose family is safe in Baton Rouge, parked his boat in the lot of a shopping center in Chalmette and left the keys in it before the storm so it could be used.

He's heard that the shopping center is gone, and his boat has been sighted doing rescue work in the neighborhood.

As far as Lyman could see, there is only one station with gas in town. Drivers are coming from the east to buy here.

I welcomed this post from Sarah G., which reassures that the Audubon Zoo and the Aquarium are in good shape.

I still can't get through to the Johnsons in Covington. As I understand, there are something like 875,000 phones out in Louisiana.

So, if I have one image to keep from the past 30 years, it is the one of riding the Staten Island ferry in 1976 with a Dixieland jazz band on board.

Gasoline supplies are low in the area now.

Scott Chaffin can help.

More local news.

Sorry I was short with you the other day, hon. Gary Farber has lots of good links.

Phil is OK. This is good.

Mr. Hlatky is right.

Lucy moped and called my name the first evening I was gone to Dallas, I'm told.

More.