I came to South Louisiana a little over four years ago to escape feeling like the dirt people scrape off the bottom of their feet, to find Joie de Vivre and start over. I hated leaving loved ones...I left parts of my heart scattered all over western New York.One of the first things I learned about down here was 'da Blues'. People who were extremely happy enjoy listenin' to da Blues. I guess, because misery and pain gave birth to the Blues, and people overcame or learned how to live and love despite their suffering, the Blues is kind of like their rallying call, their mental comfort food, to know that even in the most desperate times of their life, they are not alone. It's a well-traveled road, Heartbreak.
I went to Dallas to escape the initial storm. I witnessed the second 'storm', the drowning of New Orleans, from Texas. I am back home, warily secluding myself and the dawgs, in our little town. I have wonderful neighbors. We look out for each other, and it wasn't that long ago that we all gathered for the National Night Out, to get to know each other better. I'm an artist, so I painted kids' faces...kids from 4 or 5 yrs old, to kids in their seventies. The third 'storm' has been spawned from desperation and ineptitude, I believe.
The atmosphere of our neighborhood has changed abruptly. Families are banding together to help one another, but I've noticed that cultural lines seem to exist, where there seemed to be none before this tragedy. I witness, with everyone else, the seemingly cold-heartedness of some people on television. I just can't fathom, that such a warm, welcoming place would...could turn away it's 'own'. Cappy is out on 'da boat'. He's trying to haul oil from damaged oil platforms, from which gasoline is made, to help get the country up and moving again. He will not get off the boat. From where he is, his sister called and asked how to make huge batches of food to feed the masses that have migrated to her town. He told her of many, many ways to cut costs, but feed large crowds of people that have nutrition and flavor. Even out there he is multi-tasking.
Four out of ten of the tugboat workers, at his company alone,have not been heard from. They live(d) in the path of Katrina. We have always said that Cajuns make lemonade when life hands ya lemons, and I said, "Hah! These Cajuns make huge lemon merangue pies outa them". I wonder what kind of recipes they are going to come up with from this immense lemon storm. The entire area needs Lemon-Aid. Cappy, again, somehow managed to get through on his cell phone and told me that his office cannot send them groceries, or water. He doesn't know what they are going to do. He said they will try fishing from the boat. He will not leave the boat. He is serving his country from his tugboat. Meanwhile, I'm going to get in touch with whomever I have to, to get supplies to him. I asked one of our neighbors how I could rally support. He shrugged his shoulders, and sighed, "Oh WELLLLL....tell him to get off da boat...ya gotta do whatcha gotta do...well, I'm busy, I'll see yall".
Where's dat danged Muddy Waters CD, the best of da blues.