That City
A year ago I was driving riding dead asleep in a car on the way back from Nashville. We were on the way back to New Orleans, after evacuating from Hurricane Gustav. On the way back from a week filled with fear, worry, frustration, elation, Sara Palin and most of all, homesickness.
Some of you might have noticed that I didn’t write a post about the 4 year anniversary of Katrina. I wanted to. I planned to. But when I sat down to do it, I just couldn’t. Talking about that city makes me sad, not for what happened to it (of course that too), but for the distance from which I am away from it. I’m sad for the 2000 miles that stand between me and my former home.
I’ll be perfectly honest with you- I never imagined that I’d miss New Orleans. That city was foreign and strange. It was hot, humid and drunken. It was unsafe and crowded.
It was also filled with character. It was filled with people who cared. It was filled with non-chain restaurants, friends and something new to do every. single. day.
And I love being close to my family, I really do, but I miss New Orleans in a way that feels almost tangible some days. I wake up, and for a brief moment, don’t realize where I am. I am always brought back to reality when I set foot on carpeting instead of hardwood flooring. Or when it takes me 15 steps to get to the kitchen, instead of the flight of stairs it was for 3 years.
Fridays are always the most difficult. We had an AMAZING temple in New Orleans and we went each Friday and then out to dinner with friends. With the kind of friends you’re just not always able to make in your 20s. The kind of friends that you sort of want to selfishly keep for just yourself. And now we go to a temple with strangers. Where the Rabbi is great, but he’s not the one we came to know and love. Where the community is lovely, but it’s not ours. We’re strangers where we used to feel like family.
I’ve been in California for 3 months now, and not a day goes by that I don’t think of that city. Hardly a day goes by that I don’t fantasize finding a way to move back there. That city that was my home. That city made me into a grown up. That city will, for as long as I can imagine, always hold a piece of my heart.
That city.
I know what it means to miss New Orleans. To miss that city.
7 Responses to “That City”
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Welcome! I'm Katie, a 27 year old, full-time graduate student who just happened to have brain surgery in November of 2007 to give my ginormous brain a little more space. This blog chronicles my daily life, from relentless headaches to falling over in public to being a doctor's wife. Sit down, get comfortable and stay for a while.
It’s hard to adjust to a different energy. When I moved from fast paced Chicago to the slower, it’s legal to carry concealed weapons state of AZ (where red necks aren’t something you get from being in the sun too long), it was a huge adjustment. Chicago will always be home.
Only three more days until your neurology appointment! And then you will get some relief, some resolution, and some respect. All things that were screwed up at the ER.
I can hardly wait for you to post after the appointment.
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I do not know NOLA as well as you, but have come ro know and love some great people down there as a result of doing “post-Katrina” work with Mediators Beyond Borders primarily in the Lower 9th and 7th Wards. We get to spend time down there with the people. I will be back there mid October again.
What struck me most in your post was this line:
“It was also filled with character. It was filled with people who cared.”
The character and people there are truly remarkable and continue to draw me back and to try to make some small contribution to the people who suffered the horror of the flood and the travesty of the “recovery.”
Great post Katie. Hope you are feeling better.
Tom
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I that feeling all too well. I’ve moved half a dozen times in my life, and it never gets any easier…especially since I can’t just hop in the car and drive to the places I consider home. The last move I made was definitely the hardest. I moved from the larger-than-new-york city of Seoul, Korea to a small rural town in the U.S. and although I promised myself I would never miss Seoul, I do. And I think about the place every day…even 2 years later. I tend to feel the same way about the other countries I’ve lived in as well… I guess moving is never easy
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I know what you mean: both NO and that unforgettable place where you first find friends and love, where you first establish yourself.
My family has a branch in Metairie, so we had a family reunion in NO. The year BEFORE I turned 21. Which is probably all to the good. I had a blast and will never forget the places we saw. I’ll also never forget visiting an aquarium where we were told by a tour guide, ‘one day the levies will break’. As matter -of-factly as that.
I haven’t been back to the city since 2003; just can’t bear to see it. But I feel you on the friends, the warmth, and the miss-ability of New Orleans.
I felt the same way about San Juan; I love being near my family now, love my job, which wouldn’t've been possible there; love being paid, which didn’t happen after the island gov’t went bankrupt. Still, the food, the people, that beautiful island live in my dreams. It fades, but it’s still there.
peace
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I’ve been trying to formulate a response to this all morning and failing. In lieu of something eloquent, I will just say that we miss you, too. When we walk down for ice cream, our steps get a little faster as we cross your street. I nearly asked the boy if you two had been there last night.
I don’t know how a city I couldn’t get far enough away from became one where my heart aches when I am not there. I can’t explain it, either. It gets under your skin, and then you miss it.
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The first time I went, I thought to myself, “I hope it doesn’t look the way Bourbon Street does on those episodes of COPS” Then I feel in love. And when you live there, even for only a very short time, you can’t forget the place. The people make you feel like you are part of it…the good and the bad.
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Fell, not feel dammit!
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