New Orleans on my mind ...

Growing up in New Orleans was the best. I didn't know that until I left. It's been six years since I lived there. All I lost when hurricane Katrina hit was a '77 Chevy Caprice that I hadn't driven in years and a few things that I left in the closet of my parents' house. I think I had some old prom and Mardi Gras dresses, pictures and text books from college just to name a few. Every time I see or read about what happened to N.O. I feel the pain like it was yesterday. What's weird about this emotion is that I don't feel the pain for myself, despite the fact I spent thirty plus years of my life there, I hurt for the city, the people that are New Orleans.

Everytime I see a documentary on Hurricane Katrina, I watch it and I cry. It's not a bawling cry, it never was, just a lump in my throat and a few tears.  WEIRD! Then I watch it again (because cable channels always show the same show over and over and over again). I don't know why I get sucked into these shows. I just love New Orleans I guess. Maybe I watch this stuff repeatedly in an effort to desensitize myself to the reality of it. My old neighborhood is still a disaster, only a handful or so families have returned and they are the ones carrying the neighborhood. They keep the lawns cut and watch out for people that don't belong there. Yeah, it's the people that define the city and they are the ones I hurt for. One day, who knows when, the city will not look so scarred up, but we will never forget the scars we hide inside.