Yesterday afternoon, I got a strange request. Lisa Derx, director of e-buddies—a non-profit that provides opportunities for e-mail friendships between an individual who has an intellectual disability and a peer who does not have an intellectual disability and the subject of a potential story I’d wanted to write about—requested that I not do a story on e-buddies. Why? She said that they had too many volunteers already, and that by writing the story I’d be implicitly soliciting volunteers. She cited a recent blurb in CosmoGirl about E-Buddies. “We received hundreds of requests for applications,” she said, and the organization had to turn them down. “We don’t want to disappoint anyone.” What about a disclaimer saying that e-buddies is no longer accepting volunteers I suggested. Derx respectfully declined. I thought about begging—I really wanted to do the story, and there could be more stories on children with intellectual disabilities on our Web site, but alas, I didn’t. The sympathetic part of me beat out the unyielding journalist that lurks in me that only comes out when really needed.

On Saturday night, my husband and I sat in bed with our laptops and waited for 9pm. We were waiting for the polls to close in New Orleans—promptly at 8 pm (New Orleans is an hour behind DC). Specifically, we were waiting for the online results of the mayoral election—who had New Orleanians chosen to lead the city for the next four years? Hopefully, as voters entered the voting booths they thought of a couple of things: Which man would provide the best opportunities for my child? Which man would provide a safe and healthy environment for my child?

About a month ago, I flew to New Orleans a few days before the primary election on April 23 with my then-2.5 month old daughter. I carried her in my arms as we slipped into the voting booths. She stared at me as I made a mental pro and con list of the mayoral candidates. In the end, I could think of only her and other children as I made my selections. I didn’t believe any candidate was more qualified than the other, and I can’t say I was happy with whom I had chosen, but, well….

Afterwards, when I found out it would be a runoff, I thought the candidates would at least mention children or youth during the televised debates. Nope. Nada.
Neither of them had children’s issues explicitly on their platforms—it was an afterthought. Sure they talked about families torn apart because of Hurricane Katrina and bringing families back to New Orleans as soon as possible. There are larger issues concerning children that are looming: How many children are still considered missing? What’s the state of children in foster homes? What’s with the dragging of the feet regarding re-opening schools and hiring teachers? Are there special programs being created to help children cope with the most traumatic event that’s probably ever happened to them?

My husband and I are DC transplants who are committed to staying in DC, but we are also native New Orleanians who love the city that we were born and raised in. New Orleans is not a love ‘em and leave ‘em type of city. For years, I struggled to understand this city that I thought was backwards in every sense, and it took a natural disaster to make me realize how much I love the city.

I hope Nagin thinks of the kids second time around.