How to scare a raccoon.

We all sat helplessly tonight being sucked into Mike Smith's world of hurricanes, cats, pink flamingos, FEMA trailers, and political madness. Mike Smith, a man who sounds as if he's smoked 2 packs of Marlboros a day for the last 35 years, showed up toting a brown paper grocery bag. There is nothing spectacular about this man, his khaki and olive plaid shirt did nothing to hint at his hidden charisma. His ginger mustache blended in with his oversized square frame spectacles, which all blended into the background of middle class, 40-something, white American-male. But don't let his gentle facade fool you. This man knows a thing or two about living, and what shyness he may first exude is quickly squashed by the sweet southern lisp of his passionate storytelling.

Now I am a romantic at heart, and I was Mike's most willing victim tonight. His story begins with his Exodus out of Egypt (New Orleans), which on the morning of August 29th (the day Katrina hit), took him more than 26 hours of straight driving time to reach the promise land. For Mike and many like him, escaping New Orleans was like slow mental torture. Stuck on the interstate for 7 hours moving only 25 miles, watching people defecate out of the sides of their car windows, drinking beers out of their trunks and all the while seeing the encroaching blackness of the storm swell up in the rear-view mirror.

Mike was one of the "lucky ones;" if you can call losing your home lucky. He was alive, living in exile with all the other hundreds of thousands of New Orleaneans and Mississippians- waiting for the return home from Babylon; waiting to reach the promise land, which ironically was the very land all were trying to escape. And the promise land for all the natives here is pock marked with thousands of white boxed trailers, scattered tree limbs, piles upon piles of trash and refuse, broken glass, roaming cats and dogs, empty buildings, construction barrels and bobcat cranes... etc- the land of milk and honey (shrimp and crawdads) is a desolate land of poverty and homelessness.

So, 15 months later, Mike is back. He is working and doing well- enough. What is so impressive about this man is not that he is one of those Katrina victims, but that he has chosen laughter to ride out the storm. Sure, none of this was funny at first, and the loss of it all is still tremendously burdensome on the souls of these people. But part of the spirit down here is to say "stick it to you 'll" and that's where the laughter comes. It is funny because none of this makes sense. There is no logic in the human mind to put together the enormity of the loss and ensuing confusion and frustration. A whole generation of people have been washed away- is that possible?
So how do you get the nail out of your car tire? Well somehow it involves buying flood insurance.

How does one scare away a raccoon? -
Mike was sitting on the stoop of his FEMA trailer last summer- in the heat of August cooking a slab of ribs. Now if you've ever been in one of these trailers, you know that there is not enough room to fully wipe your own ass let alone cook a meal comfortably in 105 degree heat- with a 100% humidity.
We learned quickly down here that rats have taken over. What the city has lost in human population, it has compensated for in rodent population. "It's like there was a war and the rats are saying "we finally got the houses!"
That August night, Mike was cooking his ribs and a curious raccoon came upon him, wanting a portion of the meal. Mike, helpless and weaponless began shooing away the creature with his only defense, the barbeque tongs. The animal was not dissuade and became even more so intereseted in the goings-ons, when barbeque sauce started flying everywhere. Creeping closer, Mike became truly frightened and grabbed the closest thing he could find that didn't have any food on it, a pink flamingo.
When Mike moved into his FEMA trailer 6 months prior to this Raccoon Ribfest- his coworkers sent him a token of their love- a box full of pink flamingos- to inaugurate the white trash FEMA trailer existence. Perhaps he didn't appreciate it then, but on this night the pink flamingo did more than bring down the property value in that neighborhood.

"Swish... Bop!" The hollow pink plastic cavity of the bird's belly landed squarely on the masked face of the raccoon, and off it ran, scittering away to the next trailer- one of the 30 down the street.

This is one of Mike's many stories. He is a Katrina Man, a son of the hurricane covered in the mud, muck, and the seaweed and slime, telling a story of a people trying desperately to survive. When the governmental agencies fail, when the social service agencies stop working, when the church doors close, when the Zanex and prozac stop cutting it, when the lines at Mc Donalds just get too long... there is always laughter. It is their way of saying "screw you, I am going to survive this shithole of a life I now live."
Perhaps this isn't the most reverent prayer, perhaps praying through laughter isn't too productive, but there is healing there. God is in that laughter for all of us saying "Yes my Children! I didn't want this for you either, let's get through this together. I am going to be with you the whole time making this better." And for Christians, we can laugh a little more heartily at life because we have seen the glimpse of the better life, we know what is coming for us. So even when we are all bogged down in the rats and mold, fighting life away with lawn ornaments, we are able to look ahead and laugh away the present... saying "Yes Father! I want what you've got to give! Let's get to making this better!"


Leah Whitaker