Not Just the Levees Broke: My Story During and After Hurricane Katrina

by Phyllis Montana-Leblanc, Spike Lee (Foreword by)

Overview

Now in paperback, the astounding and poignant account of how a Katrina survivor and her husband lived through one of our nation’s worst disasters—and continue to put their lives back together today.

A driving force in Spike Lee’s acclaimed and hardhitting HBO documentary When the Levees Broke, Phyllis Montana-Leblanc became the outspoken voice of Katrina survivors everywhere. In her gut-wrenching memoir, Not Just the Levees Broke, she reveals the impending doom that she and her family experienced during one of the greatest disasters in contemporary American history. From the initial weather forecast to the public warnings from officials, and the increasingly devastating developments— the winds, rain, and rising waters—LeBlanc takes readers into the eye of the storm. With unrelenting vigor, Not Just the Levees Broke continually begs the question: What would you do in a life-and-death situation with your family and neighbors facing the ultimate test of character? Filled with the generosity of family, neighbors, and strangers; the depth of love that one can hold for another; and the power to help and heal others, Not Just the Levees Broke is a profound portrayal of the human spirit at its very best and what happens when it is pushed to the absolute limits.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781416563471
Publisher:	Atria Books
Publication date:	08/11/2009
Pages:	240
Product dimensions:	5.50(w) x 8.44(h) x 0.70(d)

About the Author

Phyllis Montana-Leblanc is a resident of New Orleans, who has recently moved out of a FEMA trailer into her new home with her husband. She continues to put the pieces of her life back together.

Spike Lee is one of the most prominent and influential media figures today. His films include the critically acclaimed School Daze; Academy Award nominee Do the Right Thing; Malcolm X; Clockers; and 25th Hour. Born in Atlanta, Spike attended Morehouse College and NYU's Tisch School of the Arts, where he earned his master of fine arts degree in film production. Spike and his wife are the authors of Please, Baby, Please, their first picture book with Simon & Schuster. They live in New York City with their two children.

Read an Excerpt

My husband and I start hearing about the hurricane and the chances of it hitting New Orleans on August 26, 2005. I call my sister Catherine and we decide that my husband, Ron, and I will go over to her house and bring her and her son Nicholas over to my mom's apartment so that we can be together. Catherine lived about a mile away from us in eastern New Orleans. Ironically, that's where our FEMA trailer is now located.

Mom's apartment was directly across from ours. She had moved there after a short stay with my sister Cheryl in Los Angeles. When Ron and I first walk out of the apartment, I look up at the sky. I notice an odd kind of gray color, but otherwise it's a normal day. I pause for a second in thought and then go about the business of getting my family.

I'm looking around as Ron is driving and I'm thinking, "What in the fuck is about to happen to us and this city?" I think this because the newscasters are saying that a huge storm could possibly happen but "it's not definite at this time."

This is why we're so confused and don't know whether to run for our lives or just "ride it out." We've had this happen before where the weather people tell us that the forecast is bad and then that turns out not to be the case. We are cautious kind of by nature, and wait to see what's up. But, honestly, this time I have a feeling that something is about to go down in a serious-ass way. We get to Catherine's home and start packing her truck.

My nephew Nicholas is running around without a care in the world. I envy him right about now. He has autism and is unaware of "real time." I know it sounds crazy, but in anxious moments like this, you do what you have to do to mentally escape.

So, we're packing juices, clothes, Nicholas's backpacks that Catherine has just purchased for school, cans of food, extra bottles of water, Nicholas's school uniforms, and her favorite music that her late husband had taped for her. And just as we're ready to head back to our apartment complex, Catherine yells that she has to go back in the house to get her husband's pictures. All I can say to Ron is "Oh, my God, not now." She runs into the house and grabs the picture of their wedding and jumps into her truck. Her husband, Helmon Michael Gordon Jr., succumbed to liver cancer on September 4, 2004.

We ride back to the complex and all the time I'm thinking that all of this effort is for nothing. Ain't no damn hurricane gon' hit New Orleans, this is some bullshit! Every time they tell us there's a hurricane, people begin running for their lives and nothing happens. So we get to my mom's apartment. Once we situate Catherine and Nicholas, Ron and I go back to our place. I put the Weather Channel on and begin to cook and put food away in ziplock bags. The media are saying we need food for the two or three days when we may be without power.

I know people say that black folks love some chicken and I gotta say they are correct. I fry chicken, barbecue chicken, smother chicken, buffalo-wing some chicken. You name it, I did it to the chicken, okay? I fixed some egg and rice for Nicholas and some gravy and rice, because those are his favorite foods. I fill our tub up with water because the news is saying to "fill your tubs up with water, just in case you need to flush your toilets." Then I remember something that I used to see my mother do back in the '70s when there was a predicted hurricane. I put gray electrical tape on all of our windows so that if the wind breaks the windows, they won't shatter and cut anyone.

All the time I'm running around doing all of this, Ron is looking at me and not saying anything because he would upset me. Ron later told me that the way I was yelling and screaming he was thinking that I was going to have a mental breakdown or a heart attack. He'd already made up his mind to let me do what I wanted and that's why he only called my name every few minutes or so in hopes I'd calm down. I have to do what I have to do, and nothing is going to stop me. My anxiety is building by the minute because the media's starting to talk about what to do if water comes into your home and you have to go into your attic. They are recommending that we keep handy a hammer or something that could make a hole through the ceiling to your rooftop. I was like, "Oh, hell no, fuck this, this shit is about to be serious."

So, I begin to think, if it's going to be this serious, why in the hell is there no mandatory evacuation right now? What does the mayor have to say about that? Where is the governor? Why are they not telling us to get the hell out of town? So, I'm thinking maybe, just maybe, this is all for nothing. Don't worry, Phyllis, this is all going to pass us by just like it always does. Still, I prepare. Just in case. Copyright © 2008 by Phyllis Montana-Leblanc