author: Nicole J. LeBoeuf

Finally. Chapter 10 is over. Brian and Mike have Had Words, none of them particulary pleasing to Brian, all of them fairly amusing to Mike. A couple of things have been revealed between the lines, and hopefully it's clear that Brian's missing them all because he is desperately trying to sail down a river in Egypt, and not because he rolled triple ones for his intelligence stat.

Great. Now, according to the revised outline, next comes the chapter in which Brian meets the shark, and I try very hard not to sound like I'm ripping off Diane Duane's Deep Wizardry.

Meanwhile, New Orleans. I purchased tickets yesterday to fly down to New Orleans, help Mom and Dad with the clean-up, and see with my own eyes how my hometown is holding up. Of course, now more than ever I feel kind of a fraud talking about New Orleans as my hometown. Orleans parish responses to the post-Katrina situation differ from those in Jefferson parish, to the point where it's almost like my parents in Metairie are living in a different country from folks in New Orleans. But, really, it's all home.

My parents have been struggling against the chaos beseiging their insurance company. Every other day, Mom would call with new indignities: her assigned adjustor was in Dallas, what good would that do? She didn't even know if they'd reassigned her claim to her home owner's insurance policy rather than her flood insurance policy. Could she even get started on fixing the roof, and with what money? Helpless me, all I could do was agree that life totally sucks and I wish thing could be better.

"Is there anything I can bring you from Colorado when I come visit? Celestial Seasonings herbals, anything?"

"No, no--well, actually," Mom said, "could you bring me an adjustor? Just go by your insurance agent's office, grab one, and put him in your luggage?"

"Er, well, I think they're out of stock..."

Just bullshitting, of course, but the thought that came out of it was, why didn't I go talk to my insurance agent? My parents and I use the same agency, and a Boulder office wouldn't be swamped like one in south Louisiana. (Ha! Swamp. Pun!) Maybe there was something could be done from here?

So I biked on over to the State Farm office on Mapleton. And I felt really stupid asking; I kept saying things like, "Of course I'm just clutching at straws here--but just in case, on the off-chance there's anything you can do..."

And the agent smiled sympathetically, and asked me for Mom's policy number. She made a phone call. She found out some stuff. She took notes. Then she called my Mom.

They talked on the phone for at least twenty minutes. She got all the details on the house, reassured Mom that in this unique, unprecedented situation she didn't need to worry about preserving evidence of damage or itemizing it all, mentioned what kind of unheard of things her office, all the offices, had been given authorization to do, and promised she'd do what she could today to get the ball rolling. I left the office feeling that at last I had done something, I'd finally been able to help. At least, I hoped so.

That night, Mom called me up to say Thank you. "You mean she really was able to help you?" Yes, yes she was.

So anyone reading this, if you have relations in the New Orleans area whose insurance claims are just stuck, see if you can get an agent in your part of the country to take a look. If you're in New Orleans, see if you can get ahold of a relative elsewhere who can stop by their local insurance office. Apparently it's not just clutching at straws.

But we'll know for sure how helpful things have been in seven to ten days--that's when they've promised Mom and Dad will finally get a visit from the adjustor. Then, if all goes well, they'll be able at last to start rebuilding their roof.