schizophrenia, at last

Well, in the long time since I've posted, the inevitable (according to daughter) has happened: I really, really miss New Orleans. I've been catching up on reading her posts since Katrina, about missing the grand lady, and realized I "feel" many of those things she is describing. It's sort of like the amputee who "feels" her missing limb, even as she stares at the stump. In my own case, it's even wierder, because the area in which I live, Algiers Point, seems, to outsiders, unscathed. Each week, from the levee, I watch as one after another of the landmark hotels and other commercial buildings downtown comes back to light and life, amidst the darkeness to the right, Chalmette, and other, hardest-hit neighborhoods that remain darkened and without discernable pulse. Barely had I tasted the vitality and cultural feast of my adopted home when it was cruelly and violently snatched from me and millions more. Feeling like a poseur, I presume to lament what others have earned the right to mourn. The grasses have overgrown a bit the familiar sidewalk and paths atop the westbank levee but the ships are returning; the ironwork garbage containers on Jazzwalk overflow with empty MRE's instead of fried chicken boxes. The good ole Bollinger shipyard again thrums 24-7 and I still can spot a "batture" squatter climbing from the riverbank of a morning. Riding the ferry was bittersweet: didn't notice any commuters, just some down-and-out clean-up workers and somber tourists taking in the desolation of the East Bank riverfront.

Now for the really great news: This weekend I was continuing the hosing off and cleaning up of my tiny back yard when, yes...I think...oh YES!!!! I dropped the rake, yanked the dog into the house and set off. Although the boat was out of sight when I finally stood at the levee top, I could still faintly hear the celestial steam-whistle music that, 'till now, wasn't remembered in the long list of "the storm" casualties -- Calliope! I cried.