THANKFUL FRIDAY

It snowed here all day and well into the night on Thursday. I went to bed around nine and it was still coming down. I woke to a new layer of snow on a driveway that had already been cleared once the previous day, and I felt in my soul that I am not cut out for this kind of weather. Weeks ago, while I was staying at Heather’s and it was snowing, I sent a text to Michael about maybe going to California for Spring Break. We hemmed and hawed and looked at prices and we both agreed that we didn’t want to spend that much money to go away somewhere. We are remodeling the kitchen this summer. That is our vacation. So then we started looking at places we’d be willing to drive to and I suggested New Orleans. It meets my current criteria of temperature needs and Michael has never been.

Michael keeps telling me that he’s just going to ‘follow my lead’ and let me show him the city because I know it so well. I am not so sure that I do know it so well. At least, not any more. I’d been there so many times with Dad, just the two of us. There was a trip made once where J came with us. I think the last time I was in New Orleans was 1999/2000. It was before I started storing photos online somewhere. There’s a picture of Chris and I hugging and smiling at the camera as we stand inside the jaws of Megalodon shark. It’s on my desk at work. That was the last time I was in New Orleans. Chris, Todd and I drove down for Spring Break. We stayed across the bridge in the West Bank area because it was cheap. We had coffee and beignets at Cafe Du Monde, visited the aquarium and the zoo. We wandered the streets of the French Quarter and had our Tarot cards read in Jackson Square. We ate too much food. We spent one rainy day driving to Covington and the Abita Brewery. The dripping moss from the trees and the watercolor greens of everything made that day feel like being inside and an impressionists painting.

We laughed. We laughed so much and so often.

J died August first of 2005. Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans August twenty third of 2005, wreaking havoc and destroying so much of the city my family had grown to love. It almost seemed fitting at the time. The hurricane shared a name with my sister-in-law and all the rage and grief we were experiencing. The city is different. I am different. I don’t want to disappoint Michael, but I don’t think I am going to be able to show him the city I loved so much in my youth. The city and I have changed with age. The things I had no interest in doing before are all the things I am starting to put on my list of things to do for this trip, like cemeteries and voodoo shops, how to sneak into an abandoned amusement park without getting arrested. I am already thinking of all the things I want to point my camera lens at and how tempted I am to do all of my photography in black and white.

There is one thing that I know I can share with Michael that will be similar to my trips before and that’s the food. Sure many, if not most, of the places I knew of before that I could count on for good food have closed their doors. This doesn’t mean that food and recipes of the region have disappeared. It is crawfish season and still oyster season. Frank’s in the French Quarter with the muffaletta sandwiches is still in business. Even though I can’t eat the sandwich, I am still excited about introducing Michael to it. Buildings and businesses may have changed drastically in the years since I have been there, but the essence of the city with its rich culture and extraordinary food remains the same. This is what I am thankful for. This is what I thankful to be able to share with Michael.

Maybe I’ll come back with an exhibition of photos. Maybe I’ll come back with mercury poisoning from all the raw oysters I plan to eat. I know for sure that I will come back with new stories, new memories and a restoration of an old love.