I guess over the past few weeks there were many things I could have written about on this Blog that would entertain and inform better than this post could.
I could have lamented about the disease taking over the life of Ted Kennedy. This saddens me to no end….
I could have written about actually meeting Hana Morris at her house for her daughter’s 6th year birthday, and all the wonderful people I met there as well. Thank you Hana for a wonderful time.
I could have written about meeting Ray Shea and sharing a po-boy with him after we watched the Mardi Gras Indians march on Bayou St. John on Memorial Day—what a lagniappe that was.
I could have written (more) about Hillary’s obvious breakdown—mental and political.
I could have written about how elated I am that my “second” choice for President actually “won” the Democratic nomination—Geauxbama!!!
I could have written about the fact that I got an incredible job promotion—finally after all these years in academia.
I could have written about how much I miss Susan and Devin as they visit Susan’s parents in Tennessee, and have been gone for two weeks.
I could write right now about how happy I am to see Cece and that I am very happy that she is here visiting—I miss her so very much.
I need to catch up on my blog, but what I write about tonight are my demons….
Perhaps brought on by the second rum and coke tonight….
And a little bit of Terrance Blanchard’s “A Tale of God’s Will” on the radio….
They Still Haunt Me….
I wish I was home….
I have it so good right now. Good job, good house, not so great neighborhood, but people are getting used to me now after one year in this new place, and we’re actually making friends of sorts—but not the kind we had in New Orleans. The job is great, and I’m moving up and helping build a University. Incredible. All good.
But I guess I have and am constantly now thinking about “survivor’s guilt.” About how we are doing better than ok away from New Orleans, but that I would rather be there doing what I know I can do there, making a difference and helping rebuild.
During my last visit to New Orleans, I finally found the word that summed up the many interviews I’ve conducted since the storm and the observations in the field of the friends and people who have returned to New Orleans to rebuild.
Blake—that’s a word you should put on one of your t-shirts—honestly!!!
New Orleans has been rebuilt on the backs and from the sweat of all those who have returned.
With little help from the government and insurance companies, people who have returned (not all, but many who I know) have been able to recapture a part if not a large part of their houses, lives, and quality of life. They have done it on their own.
And I am so very proud of my city now more than ever.
And I am so unhappy that I am not there to help and participate in this incredible process.
I will always be a New Orleanian—always.
Time for that second rum and coke.