measuring time... how do you do it?

      

Cafe Envie - Decatur

10 years. A decade. A lifetime..... I'm reminded of the song from Rent - Seasons of Love ( "five hundred twenty five thousand Six hundred minutes")

       This month has wiped me out - I don't think I've shielded myself psychically or emotionally to this degree in a very long time - and the crap still got through resulting in flu-like symptoms for over 2 weeks now...

    Anniversaries abound within the human experience- some personal, some regional, some national. The vast majority of these go by unnoticed by most of us-a stranger's birthday, the day 3 years ago that the neighbor's Aunt Mabel passed on, the remembrance of a certain battle in an uncertain war in another land and time. But some anniversaries settle down into the psyche, wrap themselves about one's molecular structure and become apart of the soul. And this is what a certain hurricane and its subsequent man made cluster fuck has done to me. But there was a gift for me in this - a soul-deep love affair with a city that I am not from but who's vibrant colors and sounds have transformed my outlook on life, my taste in food and music and my very way of expressing myself artistically through my photography and painting.

  Truly , I am not 'from' anywhere which may be why it was so easy for me to emotionally adopt the crescent city that exists in a bowl so far below sea level. I have lived here in the north for longer than I have lived anywhere and my mother's family is 'from here'. I've raised a family here and made a living here but I'm not 'from here'. Its beautiful and I appreciate it and its 'home' insofar as 'my people' are here (husband and kids) but if I was alone would I stay? No. If I was suddenly on my own I would not hesitate any longer than it would take me to pack a few things and my dogs and I would be in New Orleans. Does that make it 'home'? I don't know...

  At the risk of sounding like the detested 'carpet baggers' and 'disaster tourists' that abound whenever a catastrophe over-takes an area leaving its citizens adrift and bereft of their normalcy I can honestly say that New Orleans did not factor into my adult life much at all until the last week of August in the year 2005. I sat in front of my computer and the TV transfixed and horrified at what was unfolding after the storm passed through. I'm sure I didn't sleep; I've never felt such a deep connection and pull to a place as I did then-- when any sane person would be thanking their lucky stars that they were anywhere else I felt a tremendous pull - a feeling of finding home. I was (and remain) so ashamed that the powers that be in our country had allowed this fate to befall its own citizens. The language was powerful and telling - 'refugees', 'troops deployed', 'martial law'... words and phrases normally reserved for third world war zones were being casually tossed about by news reporters referencing a major US port city. And while I felt a tremendous pull and overwhelming compassion I knew better than to try to go and help in person- I am sensitive and creative but not physically strong enough or have deep enough pockets to have made any difference at all. I'm compassionate but fairly honest lol.

My family and I did send as many supplies as we could load onto other's trucks who were going down-water, clothing, granola bars,-- anything we thought might help. In reality that effort probably made us feel better than anyone on the gulf coast. What is a box of granola bars when you're house has been blasted into match sticks by a levee break or washed away by such powerful storm surges?

  The next year I vowed I would go to New Orleans- February of 2006 for the first Mardi Gras after the storm found us on a balcony over-looking St Charles watching the floats and freezing our butts off. But I felt 'home' and I cried when we left for the north.

 Since then I have consciously connected with the city as much as I can- I have made wonderful friends, I have clients that sell my art and I network with noted visual artists who depict the buildings and architecture so unique to New Orleans. We have gone from spending a few days to spending a few weeks to spending a month- our plan is to spend the majority of the year there coming back up north for the pretty summers and to visit. All of this in 10 years. 5,256,000 minutes.

  But for this blog I have remained fairly silent regarding the anniversary of the storm and its subsequent disaster on social media out of respect for those who can legitimately call Nola 'home'. Folks who co opt a tragedy for their own agenda bother me to no end and I would never presume to feel that I have the right or experience to engage in New Orleanian's remembrances and  ruminations regarding such a tragedy. I have made comments here and there if I feel its appropriate but mostly I try to skim over it all and stay within a comfortable space within myself.

On my own and here on my own blog I can remember that February in an almost empty city with blue tarps flapping everywhere like technicolor ghosts of roofs-gone-by. I remember a young boy in the Quarter who sold me a rose for $5.00 (it was Valentine's Day) that was mostly dead and the petals falling off-but he was thrilled way beyond that five dollar bill...eating at Voodoo Bar b que next to the B n B on St Charles and how happy the owners were that the parades would be rolling... seeing Muses and catching (and still coveting) the 'super hero' Muses beads and medallions. .. so much in such a short time. I cried when I left. A year later I cried going back -- its a place that allows my soul to sing; even as a perpetual visitor <3