Tree limbs littered the roads, leaves and branches creating a not-so-gentle quilt covering New Orleans’ roadways and thoroughfares.

A few power poles teetered on the edge of snapping and falling to the ground.

Traffic lights rested on the blacktop, stopping what little traffic there was by blocking the road.

Yet, though plenty of buildings could be seen that fell short of lasting through what Hurricane Gustav threw at the region Monday morning, it won’t be why this storm is remembered.

After so much was made of this “monster storm,” of this “storm of the century,” the enduring thought might just be the lack of total ruin on the east bank of Orleans Parish and how lucky its inhabitants ended up.

Certainly when Gustav roared ashore in Cuba on Saturday at 150 mph, the expectations were that what this city saw during Katrina would only be a precursor to the damage this storm would provide three years later.

But that devastation didn’t come.

Not for Morris Martin and Deleeter Dean, two residents of Treme who stayed despite a dire warning of destruction and catastrophe from New Orleans mayor Ray Nagin Saturday night.

Photo by Bradley Handwerger / WWL-TV.com

Hurricane Gustav blew down a billboard in downtown New Orleans, Monday, Sept. 1, 2008.

Not for Pat McInerney, an employee for a major airline at Armstrong International Airport who didn’t flee Katrina and didn’t run away from Gustav.

Not for Eric and Barbara Green and their daughters Ashley, 8, and Sterling, 12 or their friend Lisa Labarre and her son Dylan, whose past memory of evacuation included a five-hour trip to Baton Rouge and weeks before returning home.

“I stayed for Andrew and I didn’t want to go away for Katrina,” said Martin, a 46-year-old life-long New Orleanian. “I didn’t think it was going to be as bad as Katrina. And I didn’t have the means to evacuate financially.”

Martin patrolled St. Philip Street Monday afternoon, checking in on Dean, a 63-year-old employee of the Holiday Inn who stayed in town because she expected to have to work.

They were the only two left on their block, the eerie howl of wind and the fresh smell of splintered oak the only things keeping them company.

“No National Guard. No police. No nothing,” Martin said.

To get to Bayou St. John, the only means was using a personalized Contraflow, taking left lanes because right ones were blocked.

That’s where the 53-year-old McInerney was, sitting atop a concrete support of the Dumaine Street bridge overlooking Bayou St. John, taking a break from his house where power was lost in the morning.

“Most everybody else evacuated,” McInerney said. “I hunkered down.”

He added, “I’m no fool, though I did stay for Katrina.”

McInerney’s neighborhood sustained downed limbs and trees as well as broken fences. Gustav, quite obviously, didn’t pass by without giving a hearty hello.

Photo by Bradley Handwerger / WWL-TV.com

The Fat Harry's awning lies on benches in front of the St. Charles Avenue establishment.

“This storm packed a punch,” he said. “My house was rocking.”

From there it was onto Gentilly, where damage left from Katrina masked anything done by Gustav.

Still, there were people out, even after memories of the flood that changed New Orleans continue to weave a tapestry of stories.

Two men flaunted military police, wearing board shorts and no shirts while carrying beer across Robert E. Lee Blvd.

In the Lakeshore neighborhood, the Green’s and Labarre’s weren’t leaving, not after the way evacuations went three years ago for Katrina.

After taking five hours to get to Baton Rouge in 2005, Barbara Green and her family weren’t reliving that experience. Her father has a two-story office building near Conti and City Park that didn’t flood during Katrina.

That’s where they were heading for Gustav, until they watched the news.

“The more we watched it, we realized it wasn’t going to be another Katrina,” she said.

Nevertheless, there was a moment of hesitation with that plan – Nagin’s doomful news conference Saturday night.

But when the sun came up Sunday and Gustav’s winds dropped to 115 mph, the Green’s and Labarre’s decided to stick around, remembering their flee and tough return from the lake three years ago.

“I didn’t ever want to do that again,” Green said.

“We couldn’t get back to see our property,” Lisa Labarre said. “That was a big issue. We could have saved so much more stuff.”

Uptown wasn’t much different – trees down, power lines hanging and power poles tilting.

And, compared to what was expected, relatively little damage.

People milled around, raking up leaves and checking in on neighbors, drinking cocktails and sharing stories.

By Monday night, a city on the edge breathed a sigh of relief.