Katrina success story

Well, for all of the horror stories and mudslinging surrounding hurricane Katrina, my brother's story seems to have gone in the opposite direction.

Don't get me wrong, he had a few very rough months at the start of it. Having lived through numerous hurricanes typically hyped as much more than they turned out to be, he initially decided to stay in New Orleans and stick it out. The first turn of fortune in his story came right before the hurricane hit. The week before, he had randomly met up with a girl we went to high school with. She, of all people, managed to convince him to leave. So, he grabbed his dog and a suitcase and drove with her to Nashville, where my parents live.

Suddenly, he lost his home and his source of livelihood. His friends were scattered all over the entire country. After a few weeks of waiting around and wondering what was going to happen, he made up his mind to stay in Nashville, but he still had to go back to New Orleans at some point and find out if anything was left of his possessions. He heard horror stories from his friends who had returned already. He had a quick bit of relief when he returned to find out that his apartment hadn't flooded and no one had stolen anything. A looter had broken the window of his car, but that was it. Things were looking up a bit...until his dog died.

After all of the loss he had recently endured, his dog, Lula, died rather suddenly and mysteriously. Besides being incredibly cute, Lula was the sweetest dog I've ever met. She had been abused and was extremely skittish but would warm up to you and lean against you while you petted her. She got extremely sick one weekend, was vomiting and urinating uncontrollably, and couldn't eat anything. He called the vet before he went to bed, but the vet said to take her in the next day if she was still sick. In the middle of the night, she died. I will never forget the phone call in which he described in detail taking her limp body out of the house. I've handled so many dead rats, I knew exactly what he was talking about. I could hardly imagine how it must have felt for that to be Lula.

He didn't know it at the time, but the worst of it was over. After that, he spent a few months living at my parents' house and starting over in Nashville. Now, I'm sure most of you can imagine how living with your parents for several months could be. Not good. While in the middle of trying to meet people and make contacts to further his musical career, he had to contend with the folks at home. Finally, things blew up and he moved out. Let the healing begin.

Randomly, a friend of his from high school had been living in Nashville for a while and is involved in the music scene there. He gradually started meeting people there and playing a few gigs. At one of those gigs, a guy named Bobby Bare, Jr. happened to catch my brother play. His father, a well-known country singer from an earlier generation (think Johnny Cash, Hank Williams, Sr.), needed a bass player for a gig at South by Southwest, the giant music conference in Austin, TX. Not only that, but the guitar player for the band is Carl from My Morning Jacket--one of my favorite bands. The piano player also plays with a couple of the guys from Wilco on occasion. Needless to say, these are some good connections.

As a struggling musician, my brother has become increasingly obsessed with owning some equity in the form of a house. Not too long ago, he found out that he had been approved for a grant intended for musicians displaced by Katrina. So, now he had the down-payment for a house. So, hurricane Katrina forced my brother out of a situation in which he was struggling to get by, not too happy with his life, and not too encouraged about his future prospects and led him into a situation that seems to be getting better all the time.

He called me from the tour bus last night on his way to Austin. Rehearsal went well. He closed on a house in Nashville the other day. It's been a while since I've heard him so relaxed and content.