hurricanes

Some of my New Orleans memories:
*The trumpet player outside Cafe Du Monde
*Etta James grinding her hips at the Jazz & Heritage Festival
*Exploring a cavernous Catholic Church in the middle of the night on an Open School trip; discovering a swimmng pool in the basement
*Sleeping on a pew
*The palpipal feeling of Ghosts and Darkness on certain streets, even in the afternoon
*The heat
*Tarot card readers lined up around the plaza
*Playing the washboard with a cajun band on Bourbon Street, writing a little poem about it on a napkin
*Voodoo shop
*Hurricane stands (small storefronts that sold these sweet, alcoholic frozen drinks)
*Jazz funeral
This disaster is unfathomable to me. I cannot fathom it. When I get close to understanding, when I innundate myself with Talk of the Nation and the New York Times, I am filled with despair. Halfway through writing this list, I started talking to my friend Azmo who works at the coffee shop. He is from New Orleans, and he told me about his family. His parents house flooded, but will probably be okay. The grocery store they owned is gone. Literally gone. So is the neighborhood around the store. They won’t rebuild. But still, he says they got off light. Many of his friends lost everything. It makes me so scared and sad.