Some Surface Thoughts on New Orleans
Far too often in America, “preservation” means restoring something to a polished, idealistic vision of its former glory. Things aren’t allowed to decay with grace. They’re either given architectural botox or they’re scraped for something new and improved. Only in a few corners of this country are things allowed to fade and show a touch of gray. New Orleans is the prime example, and for all its elements that turn me off, its hidden pockets of aging edifices are what I love most about it. She may be brash, sloppy and sinful with her diet, but she doesn’t try to be anyone but herself. A city as a free spirit — you have to admire her, if for no other reason because she’s so damn rare in America.
I woke up this morning in New Orleans at 6am with a flight to catch home. I had flown in Sunday night with some colleagues from Weaver, and I was proud to see a New Orleans that was only slightly different from when I last visited in December 2001. There were crowds of people, albeit slightly smaller ones. There were street musicians playing a beautiful medley of styles, albeit not as many as last time. And there was a whole new set of contexts to nearly every landmark I saw. I couldn’t look at St. Louis Cathedral without seeing Bush in front of it, desperately trying to regain the nation’s trust from the city’s only dry patch of ground. I couldn’t even look at the Superdome without thinking about the suffering that happened there.
It’s been said that what doesn’t kill you can only make you stronger. So very true. New Orleans is proving to be resilient, even if she’s letting certain parts of herself go. But then again, it’s not complacency that resulted in that doorway at the top of this post — it’s just graceful aging.
That first Monday Night Football game in the Superdome after Katrina was intense. Green Day, Bono, and the Edge started things off…powerful. But the crowd, the joy of having some sense of normality and a common goal to cheer for. The Falcons never really had a chance (not that I feel bad). And after an early blocked punt…fun to watch the crowd on that one.
Disco_Stu said this on March 31, 2009 at 10:41 pm |
That was an unbelievable night. I have the live version of that song, and there’s a part where Bono sings: “woman on a rooftop/mother on her knees/her sign reads “please!/I am an American!” One of their more poignant live performances … and as for the game, that blocked punt was electrifying.
Kevin Day said this on March 31, 2009 at 10:47 pm |