Winnie, TX to New Orleans

New Orleans drew us like a magnet. What would you do when friends you haven't seen in 10 years emailed to tell you they are less than 24 hours from your doorstep and wondering whether they might drop in?  Them, that is, and their two kids, a carload of luggage, two garish yellowy bicycles on their failing car-rack, and a hair-expelling dog.  My mother would be mortified (hi Mom).  Yet Sam and Joe still gave us the correct address to their house in New Orleans.  Sam even opened the door when we arrived.  It was so great to see her.

There was a soft sucking sound as Ella, who is 7, and Jake, who is 5, vacuumed Liam and Kai into the house up the spiral staircase and into the playroom.  We didn't see them for about two hours.  Sam opened a couple of beers to lubricate our tales of the ten years since she and Eric were in physical therapy school.  When the kids came back down, they made edible menorahs: graham crackers for the base, frosting for the background, pretzel sticks for candles, candy corn for flame, and M&Ms and chocolate chips for ballast.  Liam and Kai aren't even Jewish and yet they were clearly having a religious experience.  

The next morning we reclined on the porch in the 79 degrees and bright sunshine while Ella, Liam, Jake and Kai jumped in the jumpy house and made general havoc around the house. We spent a wonderful couple of hours chatting with Sam and her Mom, Mimi, while Eric expelled the rest of Moose's hair to everyone's great satisfaction.

After we completed the task of who would sit next to whom and in which seat of the car (the back seat and Ella were the most desired), Sam gave an hour tour of some classic local architecture and Tracy's, one of the classic po' boy sandwich shops on Magazine Street.  I (Eric) would swear that I picked up a sandwich full of roast beef, but none of it reached my mouth.

Sam gave us a gift: she took the kids back to the house in the car and Eric and I walked home, just us, down Magazine Street.  The people at Simon's Antique Store

told us to go to Aidan Gill For Men to look for a present for Eric's father.  That store is amazing. They'll sell you just the right tie, cologne, and also cut your hair in the barber shop in back.  They have a sign that says "Ladies and Gentleman Do Not and Others Must Not Use Cell Phones in the Store."

It also sells books.  Three of them.  We thought "How to Be a Gentleman: A Contemporary Guide to Common Courtesy" might be taken the wrong way.  There was "How to Raise a Gentleman" -- but we worried that he might see it as a comment on his parenting.  We also passed up "How to Spot a Bastard by His Star Sign."  At this rate we might have to explain to Dick that getting nothing for Xmas is sometimes better than the alternative.

Sam survived her two hours with four kids and a dog.  We cut short Ella, Jake, Kai and Liam's plans for us to live together forever in their house (one more hour and they'd have won me over), and threw everything and everybody in the car.  Kai started to fall asleep as soon as the car started moving.  Like good parents, we careened to a Vietnamese restaurant and shoved noodles in his mouth as his eyes were closing.  It was like feeding a baby bird with no neck muscles.

I loved New Orleans.  Sam and Joe told us so much about the way the community pulled together after Hurricane Katrina, working out how to rebuild the city beyond its pre-disaster baseline, finding equitable ways to share the money for schools, discovering that the act of rebuilding inspired more and deeper renovation until the pride of the people in their city became infectious.  On our meander down Magazine, with the sun enriching the colors of the houses, art and music spilling out of windows and doors, and every shopkeeper up for a chat, I was primed to believe it.

I left a tether there.  I'll be back.

-Juliet & Eric