Notice the diversity of colors between each stick figure? The diversity in New Orleans is one of its greatest strengths. As a musician said at the end of the PBS film American Experience: New Orleans: "New Orleans could teach America how to be America."
As you can imagine, folks talk differently here than they do in my hometown of Los Angeles. Here are some impressions:
• I'm addressed in three ways by the people I see: Miss Kathy (which is what Leon (pronounced lee-OWN) at the tire store called me, as in "You come back and see me, Miss Kathy"), Ma'am (what I'm called at the grocery store, as in "Thank you, Ma'am") and darlin' (which is what men say when I'm passing by on the sidewalk, as in "How ya doin', darlin'?). I like all of them!
• When speaking of the wood siding on houses, it's called weather boards down here. If you go into a lumberyard and asked for horizontal lap siding, they look at you like you're speaking Japanese.
• And when speaking about your mortgage payment, it's known as a "note" down here, as in "I can't pay my note because I spent all my bill money when I evacuated for the hurricane." And here's another difference: The lenders have been conservative down here with making home loans, and did not put people into houses they could not afford. So while there are other issues here, there are not so many foreclosures due to bad loans.
• Happily, there is less of a youth-worshiping culture here. As a mature adult woman, I feel more respected and less cast aside than I did in Southern California. In fact, I feel so attractive. I look in the mirror or see my reflection in a plate glass window and I think, dang, that's a good-looking woman! That alone is worth the cross-country journey.
It was about 90 degrees and humid and I waited until about 6 p.m. to take my big, black dog Zeus out for his walk. Usually we walk around our Jefferson neighborhood of modest post-war bungalows, but I decided to give us both a treat with a walk at City Park.
The country's fifth-largest urban park, City Park was at one time a plantation, and is 1,300 acres of giant oaks (one is pictured here), statues, lakes, trails, people, dogs, an art museum, tennis courts, and so much more. The oaks are amazing, dripping with Spanish moss, and with ferns growing right off the trunks and branches.
Zeus got to say hi to quite a few other doggies, including a splendid white standard poodle. The sun was shining as we set out and I wore a hat to fend off the rays. I brought water for Zeus but he really prefers wading into the lagoon for a sip or two. I worried, being a newcomer to New Orleans, about alligators. I asked some fishermen and a fisherboy about that. The boy said he saw a 3-footer not too long ago, but the others assured me that the area was generally gator-free.
A few steps further, we came upon a group of adults and their children chatting on the path. All of them turned to me and said hi, how ya doin'?
About halfway into our walk, I felt a few sprinkles of rain. The locals barbecuing and picnicking seemed to know this was going to turn into a squall as they ran with their food-laden paper plates into the stone pavilions nearby.
As the squall came on, Zeus walked slower and slower. I thought it was a time to run, but his slow-poke speed made me simmer down and enjoy the torrents of warm rain. A jogger passed by and called out that he loved this weather.
By the time we got back at the car, Zeus and I were drenched. And I could hardly see to drive. A few miles away, I noticed the street lights were out and the stores and houses were dark, all except for a nearby hospital. We passed by Metairie Cemetery with its giant stone mausoleums sitting above ground.
Near a freeway overpass I heard a loud noise and when I passed the intersection I could see that a white van had just smashed into a pillar, its lights still blazing. I saw several cars make u-turns to go help. It wasn't until I got half a block away that I realized maybe I should have stopped. But I had the black dog and was wearing sandals and was soaking wet. I felt depleted. So I drove on, but I felt guilty about not stopping to help, and I hope when I need help, people don't just drive on.
My plan had been to stop at a grocery store called Rouse's on the way home to pick up dinner supplies. But when I passed by, I saw that it was dark from the power outage. I had resigned myself to canned pea soup and nuts for dinner when I came across Dot's Diner, which was all lit up. I had never been to Dot's, which has several stores in the area, so I pulled in. I waved to a man sitting outside and watching the rain. He looked like he wouldn't have minded some company.
I ordered onion rings and a dinner salad to go. When I said, "I wouldn’t mind having blue cheese dressing or something like that," I realized how much New Orleans had already changed me. Back in my home state of California, you demand what you want and if it's not available, you start thinking about getting a lawyer. Here in New Orleans, so much doesn't go your way so much of the time. But you adjust yourself to that. You become easy-going. I noticed that in my husband, Bill, who has been down here for several months. Bill's typically a pretty demanding guy. But I started hearing comments from him like, "I've come to accept that," or "I've adjusted myself to that." In New Orleans, when things take longer than you want, or are not available, you work around it. That's how things are done in the Big Easy. You mellow and relax.
And, sure enough, they were out of blue cheese and offered me ranch. Back at the house, the power was on, and I enjoyed my meal, and Zeus enjoyed his dinner and his nightly bone. A little while later I noticed a tiny frog jumping across the carpeting and I gently moved it outside.
(Photo: Samual Portera)
