Editor's note: PGATOUR.com correspondent Dave Lagarde was among the millions forced to evacuate New Orleans when Hurricane Katrina unleashed its fury on the Gulf Coast. He initially fled to Dallas with his parents, both in their 90s, to stay with friends. He continued to live like a nomad for several months before returning to his birthplace to rebuild.

In the next five weeks Lagarde will write about how Katrina affected the region he loves so much. He’ll tell you about how three PGA TOUR players from Louisiana made a difference. You’ll learn the lengths to which club pros and superintendents are going to rebuild courses. And he’ll explain the preparations leading up to the PGA TOUR’s return to the Cresent City for the Zurich Classic of New Orleans .

The assignment sounded simple enough.

Write a first-person account of the doings of late in my home town.

And I wish I could tell you about New Orleans as it was, a lovely and lively, spirited and cultured, gastronomically correct place to dwell, a city in possession of a wonderful and soulful mojo, one unlike any other within the boundaries of this land.

But that would not paint an accurate picture of my darlin’ N’Awlins as it is now.

Wish I could weave a Crescent City word tapestry omitting “destruction,’’ “devastation,’’ “ravaged,’’ “flood,’’ “Katrina’’ and the deadliest – and most painful -- phrase of all “breach of the levees.’’

Unfortunately that would be wishful thinking as well as wishful writing.

Most New Orleanians now consider our city in pre-Katrina and post-Katrina terms, much like the Old Testament and the New Testament, this thanks to a “flood’’ of biblical proportions that covered approximately 80 percent of the city as well as other portions of the metropolitan area for about three anxiety-laden weeks. This was a time when so many residents were filled with uncertainty, fear and thousands of questions that television and newspaper reports left unanswered for those of us lucky enough to escape the hellacious wrath with the clothes on our backs and our lives intact. The feeling of dread, helplessness and hopelessness that followed enveloped storm refugees for months, and for those unfortunate enough to have lost loved ones, property and all of their earthly possessions, those feelings continue today.

Trust me, no one in the metropolitan area came out of it completely unscathed.

So here it is, seven months to the day since Katrina lashed at New Orleans and the Mississippi Gulf Coast with wind, rain and incredibly bad intent. Some of the myriad questions have been answered about damage, personal loss, etc., but not enough of them for those hundreds of thousands attempting to dig out from under one hell of a mess. Uncertainty hangs in the air over New Orleans and the Gulf Coast like a mushroom cloud. And the area is still hurting, terribly in fact, and will continue to ache inside and out likely for another decade as massive reconstruction plods along at something less than a snail’s pace.

New Orleans isn’t The Big Easy any more. Far from it in fact. More like The Big Hard or the Village of the Damned.

Life here is a daily struggle for survivors who slowly return after fleeing to various and sundry parts of the globe. Far too many others sadly remain in a state of suspended evacuation. And if truth is told, you cannot come close to imagining what it’s like living here from afar. Seeing is the only way possible to believe.

Early on, the quality of life in this once vibrant, devil-may-care city was best described as sub-zero. It was an eerie place at night, with few street lights, stop lights and headlights flashing intelligent signs of life other than armed National Guard patrols. It was like the city rose from the dead at dawn and crawled back into its coffin shortly after dusk.

Although New Orleans still has much more than its share of Third World-like dead zones, places where torrents of flood water drowned entire neighborhoods, things are changing for the better, albeit slowly. More and more restaurants are opening along with small businesses, hotels, music clubs, etc. But there is no escaping the obvious that life here has been forever altered.

I am reminded of this every day the minute I walk out of my front door of my two-story home that held more than 5 feet of flood water for 21 days. I look to the right and see mounds of debris from gutted houses on each side of my street. Same to the left, along with those FEMA trailers so many residents now call “home.’’

My heart is broken in a million pieces when I look straight ahead and gaze upon my 85-year-old magnolia tree, once so sturdy, strong and breathtakingly beautiful with its delicate flowers and their distinct lemon-oil scent. It, too, is a flood victim, dead and brown.

Speaking of the flood, New Orleanians understand the truth of the matter and are suffering the consequences. Yes, Hurricane Katrina surely was a natural disaster. But the city has survived hurricanes before it. The flood was something else, more man-made thanks to a faulty levee system that those in charge allowed to fall into a state of disrepair. Without the levee breaches, the death toll and massive loss of property surely would have been cut by at least 75 percent and the majority of us would have been back in our homes, albeit without electricity etc., within a week.

But it is what it is and New Orleans, with its wonderful and willing spirit, soldiers on. We survivors celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas. And we welcomed Mardi Gras as if the respite was heaven sent. Jazz Fest and the PGA TOUR stop here are just around the corner.

After that, the city will cast a weary, wary and worried eye toward June when hurricane season begins anew. There are real fears of what might happen should deadly wind and water come howling in from the Gulf of Mexico so soon after Katrina.

Who could blame us?