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Sunday's broadcast

Those of us who witnessed -- either first-hand or on television -- the devastation from Hurricane Katrina still remember the images of residents suffering along the Gulf Coast. So we took notice of today's Washington Post, which reports that, in the wake of that disaster, the U.S. government either turned down or lost track of hundreds of millions of dollars worth of aid from foreign governments -- everything from medical supplies to search-and-rescue teams to cash. Why would the U.S. turn away help when so many of its own were in need? NBC's Martin Savidge, who reported from New Orleans in the aftermath of the storm, will explain and bring us reaction from the Crescent City.

CONTINUED »

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Record Breaker?

Getting to 30 Rock tonight was an adventure, and it wasn't because of the traffic. Those of us in the Northeast are finally getting a first-hand look at the storm system that has already wreaked havoc in the Southern Plains. The so-called "nor'easter" is bringing coastal flooding, storm surges and wild winds. It's predicted to be the region's worst storm in 15 years, and its surprisingly slow track means it could be causing trouble for the next 48 hours. We'll wrap up the developments tonight and get an outlook on how air travel could be affected. We'll also get a forecast from NBC Weather Plus's Bill Karins.

We have two reports from the front lines tonight. Richard Engel tells us how some Iraqis are coping after a weekend of deadly bombings. Also, Jim Maceda has made his way to Afghanistan to report on the new "spring offensive." Tonight, he'll bring us the first of several reports he plans to deliver over the next month.

Finally, chances are you've spent at least part of the past week thinking about race -- and the way it shapes the debate in America. Tonight, Peter Alexander will help us remember Jackie Robinson's first appearance with what was then the Brooklyn Dodgers. It was 60 years ago today. As you may know, Robinson changed the face of sports and opened the door for generations of athletes. We'll look at how Major League Baseball today remembered "number 42."

We hope you'll join us tonight.

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The gnats are hungry

We're in Plaquemines Parish, being eaten alive. Teeny, tiny gnats are everywhere. Not the kind that just cluster in the air like they're having their own private party, but mean, aggressive gnats that huddle around your face, try to get up your nose -- and bite.

The smell of trash is enough to choke on. But its hard to tell where the trash ends and the homes begin.

Right now, I'm standing by what once was a Blue Bell ice cream freezer. The flies inside are feasting on Rainbow Sherbet. I know this site was a gasoline station once. But there's absolutely no clue as to whether it was Exxon or any other brand.

The only sounds are: crows crying from the trees and the FEMA convoys heading further south (we're told they're cleaning up debris). Spray painting has become a key form of communication: on homes and cars. Some say: DO NOT BULLDOZE. Others simply say: JUNK IT.

This is the worst damage I've seen.

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Music to report by

After five days, two states and 640 miles, there's been some time to kill on the road. Here are my top 10 "After the Storm" road trip CDs:

Stevie Wonder, "Innervisions"
Bill Withers, "Best Of"
Journey, "Greatest Hits"
Ella Fitzgerald, "The George Gershwin Songbook"
Stan Getz, "Anniversary"
Slightly Stoopid, "Everything You Need"
The Sundays, "Blind"
Mel Torme, "Live in Tokyo"
Lenny Kravitz, "5"
"Rent," Original Soundtrack

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Back in the Big Easy

The final chapter in this series brought us to New Orleans last night. Despite all the destruction we've seen, nothing prepares you for the sight of this hobbled city -- even if you've been here several times since Katrina, as most of our crew has. I think it's the sheer SCALE of damage: block after block without electricity. Neighborhoods devoid of any actual neighbors. Yes, the French Quarter is open and happily serving reporters and FEMA employees. But nearly two months after the storm, parts of New Orleans are still the urban equivalent of scar tissue.

We won't spend the day here. We're going to Plaquemines Parish, far to the south and an area which took a unique punishing from Katrina. I have no idea what our story will be tonight. Right now, we're wrestling with about 20 Mexican migrant workers who, like us, are trying to muscle in on the coffee pot at a nearby Shell station.

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Sad to see it end

It's dawning on me that tomorrow is the last day of our series -- which means no more trolling around the Gulf Coast like a band of gypsies. This saddens me.

We'll keep bringing you the stories from here, of course. There are enough to fill a million Nightly News broadcasts. But the treat of parachuting into a small town and delivering it to viewers in just 12 short hours is one few of us want to see end. Maybe that's because the spirit of the Texans and Louisianians we've met is infectious. They almost seem more concerned with making sure they've offered us a drink of water than with their own, much more pressing troubles.

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Dredging for oysters

Lesson of the day: BlackBerries work even in the deep Louisiana bayou.

We're on an oyster boat. Just met LeRay Billiot, a 35-year oyster fisherman who, in between brief bits of conversation with me, dredges hundreds of pounds of oysters from the bayou into his boat, "Lady Linda."

It's hard work. And it's getting harder. Hurricane Rita dumped hundreds of thousands of tons of marsh grass onto the reefs, suffocating the oysters. The sudden rush of salt water killed them too. So not only have some fisherman lost their homes and their boats, they've also lost the resource that would have allowed them to work and get those things back.

Tonight we'll introduce you to LeRay. He's a great guy. I just wish I'd had some chest-deep waders like he had. I have oyster schmutz all over my pants.

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A salty story

Our story tonight is about salt. And rice.

The salt came from the Gulf's seawater. It shoved its way 35 miles inland to Forked Island, La. and Charles Broussard's Flying J Ranch. It flooded his rice fields and soaked them for two weeks.

When it was finally pumped out, it left a salty, white residue on anything worth harvesting. The cows have nothing to graze. And now, Broussard is afraid every time he tills the soil, that salt will contaminate the soil deeper and deeper.

Is Louisiana facing a looming farm crisis? Broussard thinks so. And that's bad news for a state where agriculture -- everything from sugar to rice to cattle -- is every bit as important as gambling.

We're hanging out with the cows right now. They're nice enough, but I don't think they like Al.

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Lucky Lafayette, La.

We're checking out of the Days Inn this morning in Lafayette, La., which, I can confidently say, has THE loudest ice machine in the western world. Especially if you're in room 231.

It's easy now to tell when you're in an environment of hurricane victims (like a hotel). The front desk has stacks of flyers. Some give advice on "how to find housing online." Others are clearly intended for children: "Do You Wonder WHY?" one reads, featuring a picture of a sad boy and images of a hurricane. Inside, the reader is invited to turn to God. A sticker on the back has the address of a nearby church.

Lafayette escaped largely unscathed by Rita. Much of the city never even lost electricity. (We know because we rode out the storm here, in a parking garage.) The city's saving grace? Hurricane Lily. It was the last major storm to hit nearby, and it stripped many of the city's trees. This time, there was little left to be broken by the wind -- little debris to knock down power lines.

The city feels back on track: Ray's Appliance Center has a sign that says, "Happy Holidays!" It reminds me of a much different sign at the Holiday Inn in Port Arthur, Texas, on Monday: "We're one day closer to being normal."

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'Gators love dogs'

I get nervous around alligators. Call me crazy. As we were talking to a resident here in Cameron Parish today, along the beach, he casually mentioned that, oh, alligators have been a nuisance to the recovery effort.

They climb out of these intercoastal waterways, he said, running "at about 35 miles an hour."

His dog, a spry, young Jack Russell Terrier, had been frolicking through the rubble. He yelled at her. "Come back here!" He then turned to me and added: "Gators LOVE dogs."

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