NOLA Hangs In

I got hung up watching the repetitive and rather hysterical coverage of Hurricane Katrina last night, bringing back many sweet and bittersweet memories of youthful visits to New Orleans and Biloxi. I'm so lucky to have experienced short spurts of the Crescent City and environs before it got as cleaned up and gentrified as it is today. Back when the Jax beer factory was still a factory and the Mississippi River front was still funky and Cafe Du Monde was more raggedy and downhome. Back when many of the buildings of the French Quarter remained unrenovated and some coins could buy you a plate of red beans and rice if you knew where to go. When you could still find run-down places to rent for cheap in the Quarter or the shotgun shacks down the way, and you had to exhibit some bravado to do so.

I could go on with the memories but I'll spare you. Still, I find myself pining for a chickory-laced cafe au lait and some beignets this morning, and I can almost recapture the mix of earthy smells and sounds and textures of a walk in the morning drizzle there, something green sprouting out of every nook and cranny.

Last night in front of the TV I kept returning to the chant, "turn East, turn East". Remarkably, Katrina did, at the very last moment, sparing New Orleans the very, very worst case scenario that held real possibilities for almost total destruction. I know that things will still likely be incredibly bad there, and farther East toward Biloxi and the Mississippi and Alabama coasts, as well as inland. Levees could still break and flooding and wind damage will no doubt be widespread and severe. I feel for the people caught in the maelstrom, and in the awful aftermath. But I have the hopeful feeling this morning that at least some of the dear essence of NOLA will survive, as it has for hundreds of years. Damp, worn, a little damaged and decrepit, but still kicking.