New Orleans: Always For Pleasure...

"Make this land a better land than the one in which we live." - Lee Dorsey, Yes We Can, Pt. 1

 In Tom Piazza's Why New Orleans Matters, he notes that there are so many stories you hear of people who come to N'awlins for Jazz Fest and simply never leave. That's the grip the city can have on your soul. Jazz Fest happens just as the humidity becomes oppressive, right before the start of hurricane season, right as the mosquitos come out to feed on human flesh, and thunder storms are constant threat. But so little of that is of consequence when you have a refreshing alcoholic beverage in hand, you've stuffed your face with the best meal of your life, you've danced and laughed with friend and stranger alike, you've heard a great yarn or three, and perhaps told a few yourself, and you can't imagine why you'd ever leave a place like this.

That's how I felt last week. We stayed in a hotel where the great Civil War General, Robert E. Lee, stared down at us like an overseer on a plantation. You'll remember he fought on the wrong side of that war and, if you were with me, I wouldn't let you forget it. Just a few blocks away from us were museums recognizing the Civil War and World War 2. Herbsaint, one of the 50 best restaurants in the country, was in walking distance. The St. Charles cable car's route was right there and one of the best dive bars I've ever been in, the Circle Bar, was undiscovered territory until our last night in town even though it was just 30 paces from our lobby.

We were there, primarily, to put in some good, hard work with the St. Bernard Project. I spent two days working on houses that eventually will be lived in by residents displaced by Hurricane Katrina and it's aftermath. Some of our group did more, some less, all of us, if I can be so bold to say, quite moved by the experience. The whole project was started by and is sprinkled with people, transplants, who picked up and moved their lives to do more. To help. To stand up. To fight. The stories—of both those doing the good work and those who would receive the benefits—were inspiring.

Stories, in general, are what I always remember about my trips to NOLA. It's a city that seems to both create and collect storytellers. This time, I was captured by the tales of the transplants. There was the lead bartender at Loa, who took a one way ticket to the city from Long Beach just after her 18th birthday a decade ago and never looked back. And Brian at The Circle Bar, another former Californian (a fact that could've easily been figured out if you'd only heard his pandora station which played between bands at the city mainstay), who told us about how he was only happy when working and, thus, worked in multiple bars while also spending his days as a contractor. And, last but not least, there was Rene, our waiter at Herbsaint, whose accent was some melange of creole and Brooklyn, and who seemed to be as of the Crescent as any local.

For someone like me who is so invested in and fortified by the power of the story, this kind of thing is intoxicating. This idea that whether over drinks, on public transportation, or while bruising my body doing mold remediation or learning how to drywall in the sweltering heat to remake a home for someone to come back to, I can count on my mind to be set ablaze with the fascinating tales of another, well, why would I want to leave that?

A week later and it calls to me. A month from now it still will. A year from now, when I get married there, it will ask why I'm leaving again. I'm running out of answers. When I see what needs to be done in the face of tragedy after tragedy in that part of our country, I'm also running out of excuses.

I can say with great confidence that If I'm lucky enough to stick around this big blue ball for more than a couple years, NOLA will one day be my home.

I haven't done the greatest work in my life yet and it feels more and more that that great work may be in Renewing New Orleans.

The hardest work I've done this year was the two days I spent in St. Bernard Parish but even with my lingering pains, even with the bug bites and exhaustion, even with all that, every time I return to my favorite city on Earth, it's always for pleasure.