Let it will be
My truck has been held hostage by the slow Veterans Ford who discovered that I had all sorts of rocks and debris in my rotors on my brakes. Meanwhile, I rode my bike to E’s and we had a good fun session. I told her I don’t feel in control of my emotions and she laughed. Duh, you can’t control your emotions, she said. Well I want to, I said. And she laughed again. I’m glad I am there for her amusement.
I called a cab to pick me up from E’s and get Blue because I wasn’t riding my bike out to Metairie at 5PM in the traffic. Cab driver was a funny guy – big guy – told me all about the dinners he made himself with his wife out of town – sounded horrible – cream of potato soup with a large can of pork and beans and rice. Yikes! Anyway, he took me on a short cut that I always forget about – Academy Drive to Fleur de Lys – just bypass all that Causeway I-10 pile up – he said he used to operate in the east, but now there’s nothing there.
We drove through Lakewood North – which is where Academy comes out of and onto Veterans Boulevard. The brick on slab houses were all empty except for maybe one or two that had new landscaping outside. It was disconcerting – all the empty houses, boarded up. He pointed out the water line along the freeway wall. “Where they going to go?” he asked. “I couldn’t stand being away from here for the four weeks I was evacuated.”
I said, I know. I was in California for 15 years pining to come back. And moved back in May of ’05. He said, good timing. Yep, I said.
He wondered aloud – “if they don’t come back, what will they do with all these houses, tear them down?”
He turned to me and said, “There is no place in this world like New Orleans. In the midst of all this foolishness, we had Mardi Gras, because we are fun loving people. I spent some time in California and in New York, and it’s just not the same there, the people aren’t the same.”
I said, I know, I know. But I couldn’t help gritting my teeth a little as we turned left on Vets and saw all the houses lining the street that are half gutted, or boarded up. It’s like you get in these little microcosms where you don’t see it and you think, we’ll be alright. Then you see an entire neighborhood with houses barren, funky, and desolate yards and you think, how? How are we going to come back?