Howdy, man!  Shakespeare Winston Jackson here.  Can't sleep, so I thought I'd write in my journal, to help me sort out my feelings.

Four years ago today, it happened.  The storm.  The storm that would change my life (and the lives of millions along the Gulf Coast region of the U.S.) forever. 

Because of Katrina, my life isn't the same.  Still plagued with nightmares, especially since I see Katrina-news splashed out in newspapers or on television sets as people reflect, remember the Anniversary of Katrina.

Because of Katrina, I no longer have my family.  My mom, pop, sisters Shenice, ShaKonya, and Sheena, and brother Shaqarius--all gone forever:  they drownded in the storm surge; by the time people found them, it was too late.  I was plucked from the nasty, murky waters by rescue workers, where I was soon rushed to a plane to be taken elsewhere.

Because of Katrina, I live in a different state.  Montana.  It's been a culture shock for my system, but as the days, years go by, I am adjusting (slowly, but surely).  I am a misplaced Louisianian, not sure as to whether I can ever go back Home again.

I try to keep busy, to keep my mind clear, free of the memories.  I go to counseling.  I work three nights a week at a restaurant here in Butte.  I go to college (Montana State), where I am studying music; I would either like to be a record producer or a rapper.

I also go to church.  God, He been cleanin' my mouth; I used to cuss really bad.  Ask my uncle and aunt: they know.  I hardly cuss anymore; once in a while I let one fly, but I am reallllly trying like heck to watch it.  'Sides, if I cuss, I get to put some of my hard-earned cash into the Cuss Jar my uncle has set up.

If I want to be rich (have money), then I'd better have an incentive to keep it as best as I can.  :)

Church keeps me focused; it's nice to have people who genuinely care for me.  They know I went through Katrina, so they have been extra supportive, nice towards me.  I appreciate that.  I can use someone to lean on as I deal with these awful memories!

Today, the city is going to have a moment of silence for those who perished in Katrina.  And tomorrow the church will make reference of it; I will hang my head, perhaps shed a tear, as I remember one more time of what was stolen from me by Katrina.  My family.  My home.  My former life.  Louisiana. 

Oh, God, how I miss them; I still can't talk about them without wanting to fall apart at the seams!

Pardon me while I wipe my eyes; I am crying again ....

Had my family lived, my sisters would be eight, eleven, and thirteen; my brother, meanwhile, would be fifteen.  And we would still be in Louisiana, hadn't Katrina tried to erase her (or the American southland) off the face of the earth!

It's gonna take years for the damage to be undone.  Four years later, there are still scars, still places that need repairing, fixing up.  People are trying like hell to rebuild, return the Gulf Coast to her former glory; however, it won't be the same, as a lot of historical places, areas were lost.  And there are people still missing, unaccounted for; if they will ever be found again is anyone's guess.

And there are people still waiting for homes, assistance, when it should have been given to them as soon after it happened.

I am not too happy with the government, in particular, former President Bush.  He did a pissant job in trying to handle the crisis; the mayor of New Orleans wasn't much better (and get this:  the guy is still in charge when he should have been run out of the country for his mishandling of the disaster!!).

I just wonder if President Obama will even mention what happened and if he will make any effort to help those who were displaced or to help locate the missing/dead.  There are a lot of people who went through that who need closure; I am one of them.

I'm just glad Obama got in:  as long as Bushie is gone, I'm happy.  He seems to be doing a pretty fair job; he's getting things done, slowly.

Well, I'd best go.  Starting to cry again; feel the tears pricking at my eyes, and the lump growing in my chest, throat.  I don't know when I have cried so much as I have in the past few days; Katrina did that to me, and I must again confront her, remember, try to move on with my life.

Don't know when I will write in here again, but I will, from time to time.  That way, you will know what's goin' down with the Shake-Man.  Until I write again, take care, and please keep me (and other Katrina victims) in your prayers/thoughts; today is going to be a very hard day for all of us.  We would greatly appreciate it!

So long; talk to y'all soon!

~Shakespeare Winston Jackson, Butte, Montana.