Coping Since Sept. 11
NPR Listeners Reflect on Life After National Tragedy

Susan Eaton helps her hospital build a Habitat for Humanity house in Baton Rouge, La. Photo: Courtesy Susan Eaton

I work in a hospital, so the fragility of life has always been a given. I live in Louisiana, where poverty and a sluggish economy are also nothing new. In fact, when the nation goes into recession we generally feel that it balances things out and puts us on a more even playing field with the rest of the nation. We are a fun-loving, proud group of day-to-day survivors down here in south Louisiana.

We know we can endure anything as long as there is seafood in the Gulf and family and friends with whom to share it. We know a hurricane could hit at any minute, destroying our home and wiping out our sugar cane crop. The next mosquito we encounter may leave us with encephalitis and the next thunderstorm may flood our home. We have always celebrated with such enthusiasm, always appreciated our sunsets, the friendship of our neighbors and the taste of good food because we have all seen how hard life can be for so many.

It was no surprise to see our neighbors loading up their giant black iron pots and butane burners to head to New York and Washington with all the fixings for gumbo and jambalaya to feed the workers. We know you can do anything with a belly full of crawfish, crab and red pepper. We've seen so much need and been hit by enough hurricanes that we, as a community, have always given generously of ourselves and our resources to United Way and the Red Cross and did so again after Sept. 11.

In south Louisiana the shrimp boats continue to greet the sun each morning, the Deep Sea Fishing Rodeos and college football games go on as scheduled. And plans continue for family Thanksgiving dinners and Christmas shopping, especially for our Mardi Gras balls and parades. But something is different -- even for us in our little banana republic we call Louisiana. You can feel a different energy in us all. We sing the Star-Spangled Banner a little louder while standing a bit taller. We have an even greater pride in all our Louisiana folks who headed to New York with a variety of expertise to help in any way needed. We seem even more reluctant to say good night and to leave the company of close friends. E-mails to college children seem longer and deeper.

We know we will survive this as we have every other plague and tragedy, but we also know that somehow this is not the same as the tragedies of the past. We cope today as we have in the past. We huddle together at crab boils or in fishing boats or family kitchens, savoring our unique south Louisiana cuisine, a relaxed sip of a cocktail and the love and company of our friends.

Susan Eaton
Baton Rouge, La.

Return to the index | Read the next letter