Naw'lins memories

The first time I went to New Orleans it was January 1973. Me and two buddies were driving non-stop from Platteville, Wisconsin, in a 1964 Rambler my grandmother had given me. We had driven my grandma and her sister ("Aunt Lois") from Baytown to Wisconsin in a late-model Olds my uncle was giving to his mother. In turn, she gave me her old Rambler, my first car, which I unfortunately totaled about a month later, but that's a whole other story.

We planned to stop in New Orleans, where the brother of one of my friends was living at the time.

As it turned out, while driving through the night down through Illinois, Memphis and on into Louisian, this nut with a gun stationed himself on top of a tall building in downtown New Orleans and began shooting at people. We listened to non-stop radio news coverage of the ordeal until we finally pulled into New Orleans sometime before dawn, where we found the downtown area cordoned off by police. Then we found my friend's brother, who lived over around Tulane, and crashed.

So that was my first New Orleans visit. Everytime I went there after, it was at the behest of a newspaper, though I never did "cover" Mardi Gras, or even attend it as a civilian. Still, I enjoyed going there, especially since I enjoyed a drink or three in those days. That's not to say I have a special kinship to the place, but it's become clear that many people do, and that the events of this week have left them feeling more than a little wistful. Will their New Orleans ever be the same? No idea. But what got me typing this was reading Slampo and his random recollections of New Orleans, acquired, evidently, over a number of years. So read his post. Just click the link. I'll update you on the Katrina refugees here in Brazosport sometime tomorrow or the day after.


[Slampo's Place]