By Doris
Our move to New Orleans and Comet Street was the beginning of three good years living in a picture perfect neighborhood of many houses, children of all ages for playmates and very welcoming neighbors, many of whom worked for oil companies. The oil companies moved people as often as the Navy did, so again we were meeting people from other parts of the country.
Our neighbors across the street were Navy people, and had a daughter, Debbie, and a son, Ricky, close in age to Jennifer and Kent, so instant friendships were formed. It was a neighborhood made to order for children, the kids could come and go up and down the block, and we were all still stay-at-home moms in 1971, so they were well supervised. They played school in our house — we had four bedrooms on a second floor and an intercom between all of the rooms, just like a real school! I played the role of the principal from my station in the kitchen. One family had six children, one of whom was a Down syndrome girl, Linda, and twins Rita and Nita. All of the kids were so great with Linda. She was part of everything they did and we all struggled watching her learn to roller skate and ride a bike, but to the kids accepted her as just one of the gang.
At Mardi Gras, the kids organized their own special Mardi Gras parade. Jennifer and Kent made the move very well — Jennifer enrolled in elementary school and Kent in nursery school, and Comet Street was a real gift to us. Not all military moves go so smoothly.
New Orleans schools did not have a good rating nationwide, but Habans School had excellent teachers, our experience over two tours of duty was outstanding, and the kids did very well. There were no special ed or gifted programs, so the teachers made the difference. Many New Orleans families preferred private schools, shades of Meridian! I once made telephone calls to gain support for a tax increase for schools and was astonished to be met with resistance to what amounted to a few dollars per year. Very different from California schools.
Jennifer decided she wanted to be a Brownie, so I was enlisted to be the leader. I had never been a Brownie or Girl Scout, but I was game. We met at our house once a week after school — another mother, me, and twelve girls. After our first meeting my neighbor, Karen Ewing, said it was very evident I was otherwise occupied when Kent decided it was fun to aim the garden hose at cars in the street! Things were never dull on Comet Street.
The father of one of Kent’s friends, Kevin Enoch, became the subject of a story Kent later wrote, when he was stranded overnight in the Gulf of Mexico on a group diving expedition. The boat pulled away without him, so he swam quite a distance to an oil platform but couldn’t communicate with rescuers until the following morning. Very scary, Mr. Enoch was missing! That story showed Kent’s talent for writing at a very young age.
And then there was Mardi Gras Fat Tuesday, which was preceded by parades every day or night for two weeks leading up to the big day. My first parade was nearby in our neighborhood, on a Saturday afternoon. Don was now working on weekends because he was assigned to train reservists who came in on weekends, hence the name “weekend warriors.” Jennifer, Kent and I attended the parade with Karen, Debbie, and Ricky Ewing. There were many floats with people in colorful costumes. These people were part of a “Krewe” that met all year round to plan their special parade. The parades culminated with the big Mardi Gras Day parade, presided over by the King and Queen of the Rex parade.The Mardi Gras balls were wonderful events attended by many of the elite families going back several generations.
Our first parade in Walnut Bend, (the name of our subdivision named after a plantation) was a great eye opening experience for me as I discovered a competitive streak I didn’t know I had. You see, the riders on the floats throw beads, doubloons, and candy to the parade watchers, and the object is to catch something. The refrain is “throw me something, mister.” Well, my inner kid took over, and I became very competitive with small children when something came flying in my direction! We had a great time and I remember that day vividly. When Don finally went to a parade with us he couldn’t believe my transformation! On Mardi Gras day, families gathered in the Garden District, where there are many grand old homes. People line the streets and bring ladders for children to sit on so they can see better and are well positioned to catch beads. Families dress in costume. One year we went as clowns. The picture that stands out most in my mind is of a family of little black children all dressed as Indians. Most parades have a designated route, but the Zulu parade, comprised of all African Americans, wanders all over the city, with people trying to locate them because they throw golden coconuts. And then there is the music and the marching bands, our favorite was Pete Fountain’s “half fast ‘marching band!’ We certainly were enjoying all that New Orleans had to offer!
At the end of Comet Street was a levee holding back the mighty Mississippi River. Looking toward the levee, you could see the tops of ships as they passed by. Our neighborhood was within walking distance of a McDonald’s restaurant, and one day Jennifer and one of the twins went to have some lunch. On their way, Jennifer fell and cut her knee badly. She sent Nita into the restaurant for some napkins to staunch the flow of blood, limped home, cleaned the wound up herself, and then came upstairs to tell me about it! Our brownie troop went on a field trip to McDonald’s where we learned that their French fries were from fresh, not frozen, potatoes and the employee motto was CAYG which stood for “clean as you go,” a very good motto for the Brownies.
When Kent started kindergarten we discovered that he had a doppelgänger, Dale Lockhart, a year ahead of him. His mother and I had trouble telling them apart, both tall with red hair and blue eyes. They were a Navy family and we later skied with them in Breckenridge when we all lived in Colorado. I still hear from them. Marcy and her daughter went back to the old neighborhood a few years after Hurricane Katrina devastated the city and gave us a report. Our side of the city was not devastated like some parts of the city. One of the big changes was that all New Orleans public schools became charter schools and were able to rebuild from the ground up.
I volunteered in the school office and thoroughly enjoyed working with Mr. Puyagh, the principal, who was the father of seven red headed children. He always explained that his children went to parochial school for the religious aspect, but he was a firm believer in public education. On our second tour in New Orleans when the schools were integrated, both staffs and students, he was a firm supporter of the black families. He sent a school bus to bring black parents to PTA meetings because as he explained, “many of them as children didn’t have good experiences in school” and he wanted them to feel welcome. An exceptional man at an extraordinary time.
Our lives were now more normal on an everyday basis, except Don was now working weekends. This meant that his “weekends” were Monday and Tuesday, but Sunday nights he had to fly the airlift to return the weekend warriors home. The Officer Wives Club was a very active group.
Our neighbor Karen was president and could run a meeting better than anyone I have ever known. Each Christmas we had a Christmas party for the children at an orphanage in downtown New Orleans and many hours were spent wrapping toys and making food for children who had no families. This was always a very special event each year.
And then there was hurricane season. I had experienced remnants of hurricanes in New Jersey, but that was high waves and downed trees, not the vulnerability that we felt in New Orleans. When Hurricane Camille took aim at New Orleans, I grabbed Jennifer, Kent, and Chris, our insurance policies, family photos and evacuated to the Naval base, figuring whatever happened we would have support there. I remember hearing there were 200 mile an hour winds approaching the mouth of the Mississippi, not good, as I remembered Adak winds of 100 miles an hour! Camille turned out to be the strongest storm to hit the United States at that time. The devastation was incredible. People who opted to stay and have a hurricane party on the gulf coast were never found. A sheriff took their names when he warned them of the seriousness of the approaching storm. This was before cell phones and the internet so the areas hit were incommunicado for a long time. A helicopter from the base flew over the area, saw a nun waving a flag on the beach, and landed to see what she needed for the orphans in her care. It was an incredible operation for the military and they did a fantastic job. Our homes and lives were safe, but I learned that I would never stay put for another hurricane!
As Navy life would have it, orders for our next move arrived and we were off to middle America and Nebraska. As the saying went, “Join the Navy and see the world!”