First a little background...Last year I was in South America with no plans to return to the States for a good while. I was feeling high and happy and very fortunate to have dodged the economic crisis by selling out my California life: selling my business , my sweet little house that I had lived in for 25 years and raised my children in and by getting out of the stock market. I'm no financial wizard but I was blessed with a wise and rueful nephew who pushed, educated and encouraged me to sell until I finally listened. The crash for me started in January 2005 and by September 2008 I was relatively protected, resigned and tired of thinking about it.
While the world was melting down, thanks to my guru Galen, I was safe but I was still feeling a need to escape the fallout. I didn't feel like watching what was happening around me, the stress was escalating and many friend were not happy with the choices I was making. Besides, my adventurous spirit, long dormant, was waking and calling me out to play, mostly in the form of travel. My gratitude towards life and my nephew in particular for steering me through the meltdown unscathed, left me with to strong desire to give back. Who and how could I help? I had been a chef and business owner for thirty years and I had no other particular skills. In looking to be of service in a more committed way, I went back to school, became certified to teach English and took off for South America.
In the midst of my wanderings, in Ecuador and Peru, I began to get emails from old friends, who were going to Jazz Fest. This is a sacred sojourn for many and a twenty year ritual for my friends. Would I please join them? At first thought this made me laugh. It was a ridiculous idea. So not on my radar. But a few emails more and I began to give it more serious thought. It was a crazy thing to do and perhaps partly because it was so, I warmed to the idea.
Andrei Codrescu opens his book, New Orleans Mon Amour asking, how do we fall in love with New Orleans." "At first sight, violently" is his answer. That's exactly how it happened to me. Suddenly I was reminded, as in a dream, of a dear lover that I'd somehow forgotten, someone who had been right there all along. So on a serious whim I changed course for Louisiana. I would have fun at Jazz Fest, but I knew that I wouldn't want to just visit New Orleans without being of service to her. So I looked for non-profits to volunteer for and I found Hands On. I booked a one-way ticket to the city thinking that I would stay a few weeks and help with the post Katrina recovery work but that I would stay longer if needed. I stayed five months.
Hands On New Orleans is a non profit founded in the after math of Katrina which provides service opportunities for people across the country and around the world who want to participate in the efforts to rebuild New Orleans. Their motto is, "Take Action. Make an Impact. Stay Involved" I liked the name: Hands On. I went to live in their bunk house and began working on their many housing projects. A hands on experience was what I wanted. A hands on experience was what I got and it was both an unforgettable experience and an unforgettable time. See post- It's either new or it leans.
So why New Orleans? Robert Penn Warren said that "after Louisiana, nothing else is real."
That goes double for New Orleans.
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