esrosedotblog

BIG MUDDY Revised

It is very hard to watch the slow motion horror in New Orleans.

I find it difficult to imagine what people are going through whether temporarily displaced or permanently and tragically without a future.

I, for one, am pained by any inconvenience or delay or disruption.

I suppose when a 'big one' hits, the reality, cushioned by a bit of shock, moves you to the next square and then the one after that until there is some stability and comfort.

In the meantime, there is suffering.

I have been to New Orleans several times on business and only once for pleasure. That trip was in cold, damp, January and I had a bad cold. We still had a good time.

We stayed in the French Quarter not too far, but far enough, from Jackson Square and Bourbon Street. We were on the second floor (good) of a guest house with a big porch to sit outside and watch whatever action there was. (not too much).

We saw the wild and grungy side on Bourbon Street but soon realized it was tourists watching tourists.

We hit all the famed spots and some out of the way places. I remember the old street car rides fondly as well as the paddle wheeler that had a steam calliope.

We took a tour of a warehouse and factory where they make Mardi Gras floats. And, we had some good food, but, to say the truth, it was all pretty fat and unhealthy. Beignets.

As the hurricane approached the other night, we thought about the minutiae of the trip. They were good memories.

Now, under water.

Another way to fondly remember—The American Red Cross—apparently the way to go with a desire to help.