I read recently that Ruthie the duck woman died. When I lived in the Quarter in my early twenties I saw Ruthie on a regular basis. One time when I was walking down Burgundy Street and she was with duck on the other side, she said, “Rachel!” It freaked me out at the time. Now, it makes me smile.
A friend of mine in Chicago said she got a card from my next door neighbor congratulating her – her husband asked who the senders were and she said, “Rachel’s neighbors.” She said to me I can’t believe how awesome your neighbors are! And I said, believe me when I tell you I am grateful.
I found out that the woman who drove her car into the bayou the other night did so on purpose and yes, the police were just standing by in their own morose (moronic) way, but one good samaritan jumped in after her and I bet you he is a neighbor of mine (but who knows). I heard the driver wanted to commit suicide – and I wondered what would make life so bad as to want to end it? Of course, I know a couple of obvious answers, terminally ill, maybe being one of them.
Meanwhile, in the midst of suicides and crime sprees there are mysterious late night pumpkin carvings and good samaritans – and even the crazy people know your name here.