The storm was on a Monday. Saturday and Sunday were comparatively festive, the traffic moving slowly to and through Maringouin in contraflow. Monday classes had already been canceled. There was a pre-storm dance Sunday afternoon, with fiddlers.
We never feel these storms as much in Maringouin but the heavy atmosphere of the outer bands was here, and we were tense and worried about what might happen en ville.
We fed the ducks.
Then the storm had come through and it hadn’t been as bad as one feared, and we drank wine. Then the levees broke. I remember that for about six hours there were people unable to grasp the news. I had grasped it instantly and knew its meaning, which was the basis for my own state of shock.