New Orleans was like your favorite quirky relative... excessively good and excessively bad in all the best ways. With all her mystery, she was always a woman, but rarely a lady.
As an airmen's wife in Biloxi, New Orleans was Oz on less than a tank of gas. It was in a Bourbon Street courtyard where my birth control pills were thrown into a fountain in exurberent celebration of the decision to have my daughter.
As a young Mom with a stroller, the constant daytime parade of artists, musicians and street hustlers on the square were my easy entertainment, while my baby took many of her first steps trying to chase the pigeons there.
Maturity, money (and a babysitter) changed my perspective dramatically when I lived in Houston. New Orleans laid bare a regular buffet of rich food and amusement.
Everyone should have one massive hangover in their life that was worth every miserable wretch. Mine came with a trip with Houston friends to N'Awlins to see the Bills play.
There are no photos of that night. That's probably a good thing. But I recall our merry mob moving from bar to bar with broadcatser Paul McGuire tipping ridiculously and begging to get each band to play "Shout" -- the Bills theme song. As the night went on we continued to get down with the song... but pretty much gave up on getting back up.
Games, parades, speaking engagements, rendevous ... any excuse was a good one to go to to New Orleans .. some were excellent.
The circumstances blend together in a memory tapestry of tastes, sounds, and sensations. The sumptuous luxury of a feather bed with Egytian cotton sheets, a bed and breakfast with a fruit-laden lime tree, the "shoes" guys, Commander's Palace, Court of Two Sisters, powered sugar from beignets all over a freshly kissed face ... New Orleans could make a real estate convention sensuous and exciting.
The individual human cost of Katrina is beyond comphrehension. I sat in shelter for a smattering of lesser storms over the years and emerged to pieces that could be reassembled. I can not fathom the pain of loss being experienced throughout the coast. My heart hurts at the sight of once familiar places in Biloxi and New Orleans on the television news, with me protected by many miles and years.
Like everyone else I'll add another dollar at the check out, support the food bank efforts, pray and hope for the people.
And hold, perhaps foolishly, to the idea that even a monster this large and terrible can not break the spirit of New Orleans.
Copyright 2005 Judi Griggs