Bye, Bye Blue Roof
I got my new roof for Christmas. They put it on last Wednesday which happened to be the same day that I had a miserable cold. Fortunately I was able to synchronize my coughing with the pounding. It's gorgeous and I will stop fearing the rain now.
The Husband, Addy and I headed up to South Carolina for Christmas late in the afternoon on Thursday. During the drive up I found A Prairie Home Companion on NPR and got a flashback to our evacuation out of Louisiana nearly a week after the storm. At the time, PHC was at the Minnesota State Fair and The Dirty Dozen Brass Band was playing. The audience was going wild for them and Keillor made mention of how everyone was thinking of New Orleans at that time. I remembered hearing that broadcast and my eyes filling with tears. I remembered the uncertainty and the helplessness of having to leave.
When you talk to people day to day about where they went after the storm, all of the stories start the same: "Well, we only packed three days worth of clothes." I guess that would be a good title for a book of essays, "Three Days Worth". I've also come up with a children's book entitled, "The Wind that Blew My Friends Away" but that's much to depressing to think about right now.
I was talking to The Husband about how I've developed an "us versus them" mentality towards people who weren't living here before the storm. With the whole country developing opinions as to how we should rebuild our city, I think that people forget that when they have a New Orleanian in their presence, the debate to rebuild the levees is not polite conversation. In addition, to cancel Mardi Gras is impossible. It'd be like canceling the 4th of July or Christmas. All of these are actual dates on the calendar. The city can refuse to permit the floats to go down the streets but there is a lot more to Carnivale than boobs and beads. Few people know that.
Although I try to see the progress that is happening here, there are days when it all looks so bleak. There are trucks and trailers parked in what were once open fields. The military presence has lowered but is by no means gone. Up until recently, we had to contend with curfew when departing on or returning from long car trips. On our return from S.C., we came into the city over the Twin Span on I10 for the first time. A once well lit area of the city booming with car dealerships and box stores was black for miles. This was a wakeup call as to how much work still needs to be completed and how many people need to move back. While those of us who live along the river can try to get back to "normal", the others are still trying to get back.
Addy and I leave for Vermont to see my side of the family so that they can meet her for the first time. I always love returning to the Green Mountain State but it becomes harder and harder for me to leave New Orleans since the storm. I feel like I'm turning my back on her even though there are days that I just want to pack up and start anew.
The Husband, Addy and I headed up to South Carolina for Christmas late in the afternoon on Thursday. During the drive up I found A Prairie Home Companion on NPR and got a flashback to our evacuation out of Louisiana nearly a week after the storm. At the time, PHC was at the Minnesota State Fair and The Dirty Dozen Brass Band was playing. The audience was going wild for them and Keillor made mention of how everyone was thinking of New Orleans at that time. I remembered hearing that broadcast and my eyes filling with tears. I remembered the uncertainty and the helplessness of having to leave.
When you talk to people day to day about where they went after the storm, all of the stories start the same: "Well, we only packed three days worth of clothes." I guess that would be a good title for a book of essays, "Three Days Worth". I've also come up with a children's book entitled, "The Wind that Blew My Friends Away" but that's much to depressing to think about right now.
I was talking to The Husband about how I've developed an "us versus them" mentality towards people who weren't living here before the storm. With the whole country developing opinions as to how we should rebuild our city, I think that people forget that when they have a New Orleanian in their presence, the debate to rebuild the levees is not polite conversation. In addition, to cancel Mardi Gras is impossible. It'd be like canceling the 4th of July or Christmas. All of these are actual dates on the calendar. The city can refuse to permit the floats to go down the streets but there is a lot more to Carnivale than boobs and beads. Few people know that.
Although I try to see the progress that is happening here, there are days when it all looks so bleak. There are trucks and trailers parked in what were once open fields. The military presence has lowered but is by no means gone. Up until recently, we had to contend with curfew when departing on or returning from long car trips. On our return from S.C., we came into the city over the Twin Span on I10 for the first time. A once well lit area of the city booming with car dealerships and box stores was black for miles. This was a wakeup call as to how much work still needs to be completed and how many people need to move back. While those of us who live along the river can try to get back to "normal", the others are still trying to get back.
Addy and I leave for Vermont to see my side of the family so that they can meet her for the first time. I always love returning to the Green Mountain State but it becomes harder and harder for me to leave New Orleans since the storm. I feel like I'm turning my back on her even though there are days that I just want to pack up and start anew.
1 Comments:
I can not imagine what any of you have gone through in the south. Your book titles really say it all. You have great strength. People like you can make "the spirit of New Orleans".
Post a Comment
<< Home