10:35 AM CDT on Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Kim Horner / Dallas Morning News

Singer Ellen Smith has performed the jazz classic countless times, but now – after several months in the Dallas area – she really understands.

"Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans, and miss it each night and day. I know I'm not wrong ... this feeling's gettin' stronger, the longer I stay away."

Back home, Ms. Smith had regular singing gigs. In Dallas, she has been out of work for months. She and her 16-year-old daughter, Kiara, are far from friends and family, and Ms. Smith has gone from feeling like "somebody" in New Orleans to a "nobody" here.

"Dallas is a foreign country to me," she said. "I don't know nobody. I don't know where to go."

Thousands of Hurricane Katrina evacuees in the Dallas-area are still adrift eight months after the storm and are finding the culture clash hard to overcome. Soon, many will be forced to make some tough decisions as rental assistance and unemployment benefits begin to run out.

In New Orleans, temporary and full-time jobs in the service and tourism industry were easy to come by.

But of the estimated 21,000 evacuees still in the Dallas area, two out of three do not have jobs.

It was simple to get around New Orleans, with its compact neighborhoods and public transportation. In sprawling Dallas-Fort Worth, many evacuees are without cars.

And extended family that once helped with child care and finances back in Louisiana is not available in North Texas.

Some want to go home but don't have a place to stay in New Orleans. That includes Ms. Smith, who says that despite the obstacles, she has made up her mind: She is moving back as soon as possible.

'Off the radar'

After an initial outpouring of support, followed by months of financial assistance, the public has begun to question why so many evacuees are still struggling to adjust.

"As much as it [Katrina] was in the headlines after it happened, it's off the radar now. People wonder, 'Why aren't they settled?' " said Nicole Dash, assistant sociology professor at the University of North Texas.

Dr. Dash said recovery programs, which have focused on financial assistance, have not adequately addressed the fact that people lost more than money – they were put on buses and separated from friends, family and neighbors who used to help each other with child care, transportation and emotional support.

"Now you're in this foreign city without any of these networks," Dr. Dash said. "A lot of that is creating a situation where people just don't know what to do next. Their social compass is gone."

New Orleans had among the nation's largest native population, with families going back generations, said Anthony Ladd, associate professor of sociology at Loyola University New Orleans.

"People want to come back. They love this place, they're attached to this place, and they don't know how to function in many respects elsewhere," Dr. Ladd said.

Cheryl Bernard has done her best to re-create that sense of community with 16 family members living in Richardson. Three of her siblings live in her building, the New Orleans Apartments, a complex that has a familiar name but is much different from the shotgun homes the family members used to live in. A brother lives in a complex nearby. Other family members are scattered around the nation.

"I miss it back home," Ms. Bernard said. "The neighbors, they were like family."

She especially misses her granddaughters, ages 7 and 5. They are back in Louisiana.

"I used to pick them up or say, 'Bring them over for the weekend," she said. "It's very depressing for me."

Financial shock

The lack of family support has hit some evacuees financially as well as emotionally.

Most evacuees who came to North Texas hurricane shelters lived in poverty before the storms. Many of them lived inexpensively with relatives in New Orleans but now have their own apartments paid for by the Federal Emergency Management Agency.

Social service workers worry that many will be evicted when the assistance runs out. FEMA will only give additional aid to evacuees who were the head of the household in Louisiana.

Many evacuees, including those who worked in bars, restaurants and casinos as part of New Orleans' bustling tourism industry, still have not found jobs in North Texas. About one-third of the evacuees would have been classified as unemployed back in New Orleans – on welfare, disabled or working only odd jobs.

"I think the people who really came here in the first three months, those who wanted a job and wanted to do the right thing, they've done it already," said Natalie Johnson, senior workforce development planner for the North Central Texas WorkForce Board, which is responsible for helping evacuees find jobs and training.

Ms. Johnson said some of those who were on welfare in Louisiana cannot receive those benefits in Texas because of different eligibility requirements.

Dallas has plenty of jobs, she said. But some evacuees lack "job readiness" skills – including training and the professionalism to show up for work every day, she said. Some evacuees were used to a less formal work culture and worked only when they needed cash, she said.

A major obstacle to getting a job is a lack of a car, Ms. Johnson said.

"This is a place where you have to have a vehicle, and a lot of the people we come in contact with never owned a driver's license," she said.

Some evacuees who used New Orleans' bus system find it harder to get around here, especially those in suburbs and rural areas without public transportation.

Willie Bernard, Ms. Bernard's brother, is learning to navigate Dallas' bus and light-rail system because he has no car. The longtime maintenance worker wants to stay in Dallas and has been looking for work for months. He is struggling to pay his rent – $575 a month in Richardson compared with $178 in New Orleans.

He said he believes many employers simply won't hire people from New Orleans.

"They really aren't trying to help you out here," he said. "We still ain't on our feet yet."

Bobby Dantzler, who lives in Oak Cliff and has no car, said the only jobs near his apartment pay minimum wage. Yet he needs more to pay his $700-a-month rent, which is much higher than what he paid to live in his Ninth Ward home. He hopes to earn more as a security guard – and then buy a car.

Down to the wire

Help is running out for many of the jobless surviving on unemployment benefits and rental assistance. Some people who received Dallas Housing Authority vouchers are beginning to get 30-day notices that their assistance will end. More notices are expected to be issued later this month.

"I think people may still be in limbo," said Ms. Johnson of the North Central Texas WorkForce Board. "I don't know if reality has hit yet. I think they're still hanging on to hope that they're going to go back soon."

Grateful for help

Mr. Dantzler, who is appealing after being denied further rental assistance, said he's struggling but feels lucky to be alive.

"I have food and a place to stay," he said. "I'm getting through by the grace of God."

So is Ms. Smith, who has survived thanks to financial help from Metrocrest Social Services in Carrollton, a grant from the Jazz at Lincoln Center in New York's Higher Ground Hurricane Relief Fund and short-term FEMA aid.

Ms. Smith, who has made a few trips to New Orleans to earn money singing, has found some of the comforts of home in Dallas at a Shuck 'n' Jive restaurant – and she loves the fast and friendly customer service compared with back home.

"I couldn't have asked to be dropped in a better place in terms of people being helpful to us," Ms. Smith said.

Still, it isn't "home" – and instead of staying in her Carrollton apartment, she plans to resettle in New Orleans. She initially planned to return to Louisiana this week, but friends have discouraged her from moving too quickly.

"I want to go home so bad, but everybody is telling me there is nothing to go back to," Ms. Smith said.