All for one
Often, random thoughts and worries will be galvanized by reading something another wrote, or watching a movie or story tangentially-related. So it happened that a recent blog jolted my fuzzy musings into an organized frustration: We New Orleans people will all go up or down: together!!!
Strangely, here on the West Bank we go about our daily routines almost (physically, at least) untouched by the devastation in which we are immersed whenever we cross the 'connection'. Whether by bridge or ferry, immediately on entering the east bank, New Orleans' metropolis, I'm struck by the industry of some who are rebuilding and rehabbing in the midst of neighboring properties that are tumbled to the ground or resting partially on former sidewalks. My first thought, always, is along the lines of "what does that person think will come of this effort? Hasn't he read all about the infighting, the Bush campaign to frame us as reprobates? Just some down-on-their-luck crazy folks who want a handout." I wonder how the buy-outs (maybe backed by a state agency) will treat those who have 'rebuilt' on untenable real estate.
Well, one thing is certain: The ransacked, the looted and/or burned, the swept from the foundation and the untouched, glittering lucky mansions will occupy the same boat when the city's future is decided, over the next couple of years. No industry, no Shell Square, no lakefront neighborhoods, no Mardi Gras krewes and certainly no city government will survive for very long if the 'infill' of everyday folks give up on an impossible pilgrimage to return home to their city.
What in the world does our president believe is happening, day by day, week by week? People, businesses, schools, doctors are making decisions to hang on a l ittle longer, hoping our government will join hands with Louisiana and New Orleans, or they are drifting away, eroding the population and the "market influence" that Bush insists will decide the future of our city. Almost every day I drive past a hole-in-the-wall corner of an empty brick building a few blocks from my home: a free medical clinic, staffed by volunteers and some folks who are paid minimal expenses by non-profits. This is taking the place of a "free-market" medical clinic, such as the ones in Texas and D.C. This is where Laura and 'W' need to settle their derrieres for a few hours when they next descend (or is that condescend) on New Orleans to guage the health of our city in the aftermath of nearly total destruction.
Sometimes I have daydreams of the future when the lights are going out, one by one, across the river, as I watch from the levee. I and a few others from my wonderful, active, neighborhood are standing there, with our hands toward the sky, shouting that we are o.k. Don't do it! Don't give up! Like Horton and the little 'who' on the clover flower, I'm screaming at the mayor and the hoteliers and tugboat captains: We are fine over here!!!
The reality, as mentioned in the beginning of this entry, is that we, the unflooded, and they, the swamped, will rise or fall together. Should power-brokers or bankers believe they can pick and choose among the city's former residents to rebuild in a vision that isn't inclusive, they will be disappointed. The footprint should, and must, be smaller. But believe this: America won't flock to the Cafe du Monde or Jackson Square or St. Charles Avenue without the funny, crazy, carefree spirit that infects everyone spending time in the Big Easy. This is the vision that Bush and his minions actively are annihilating. They don't get it...or they do get it and don't want it.
Strangely, here on the West Bank we go about our daily routines almost (physically, at least) untouched by the devastation in which we are immersed whenever we cross the 'connection'. Whether by bridge or ferry, immediately on entering the east bank, New Orleans' metropolis, I'm struck by the industry of some who are rebuilding and rehabbing in the midst of neighboring properties that are tumbled to the ground or resting partially on former sidewalks. My first thought, always, is along the lines of "what does that person think will come of this effort? Hasn't he read all about the infighting, the Bush campaign to frame us as reprobates? Just some down-on-their-luck crazy folks who want a handout." I wonder how the buy-outs (maybe backed by a state agency) will treat those who have 'rebuilt' on untenable real estate.
Well, one thing is certain: The ransacked, the looted and/or burned, the swept from the foundation and the untouched, glittering lucky mansions will occupy the same boat when the city's future is decided, over the next couple of years. No industry, no Shell Square, no lakefront neighborhoods, no Mardi Gras krewes and certainly no city government will survive for very long if the 'infill' of everyday folks give up on an impossible pilgrimage to return home to their city.
What in the world does our president believe is happening, day by day, week by week? People, businesses, schools, doctors are making decisions to hang on a l ittle longer, hoping our government will join hands with Louisiana and New Orleans, or they are drifting away, eroding the population and the "market influence" that Bush insists will decide the future of our city. Almost every day I drive past a hole-in-the-wall corner of an empty brick building a few blocks from my home: a free medical clinic, staffed by volunteers and some folks who are paid minimal expenses by non-profits. This is taking the place of a "free-market" medical clinic, such as the ones in Texas and D.C. This is where Laura and 'W' need to settle their derrieres for a few hours when they next descend (or is that condescend) on New Orleans to guage the health of our city in the aftermath of nearly total destruction.
Sometimes I have daydreams of the future when the lights are going out, one by one, across the river, as I watch from the levee. I and a few others from my wonderful, active, neighborhood are standing there, with our hands toward the sky, shouting that we are o.k. Don't do it! Don't give up! Like Horton and the little 'who' on the clover flower, I'm screaming at the mayor and the hoteliers and tugboat captains: We are fine over here!!!
The reality, as mentioned in the beginning of this entry, is that we, the unflooded, and they, the swamped, will rise or fall together. Should power-brokers or bankers believe they can pick and choose among the city's former residents to rebuild in a vision that isn't inclusive, they will be disappointed. The footprint should, and must, be smaller. But believe this: America won't flock to the Cafe du Monde or Jackson Square or St. Charles Avenue without the funny, crazy, carefree spirit that infects everyone spending time in the Big Easy. This is the vision that Bush and his minions actively are annihilating. They don't get it...or they do get it and don't want it.
posted by Pelican Stories at 6:17 PM
1 Comments:
This is terrific. I hope a lot of people see it your way.
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