Re: Has anyone heard?
- From: "Susan Fraser" <chinchuba@xxxxxxx>
- Date: 9 Sep 2005 23:01:27 -0700
> my friends and family have come through without injury or lasting
> harm.
YAY! We have also found out that our house was undamaged. Unbeleviable,
as we live on a *heavily* wooded lot. Will go home when the power comes
on. (My actual criteria is 24 hour ice cream.)
I predict the country will probably be amazed at the resilience of New
Orleaneans. I won't. They're a determined and tough bunch. I'll paste a
post after this that I wrote for another list about people refusing to
leave.
My dogs are having quite the time being "countryfied". Long hikes in
the woods, runs on the mud flats, going to bed D-I-R-T-Y, chasing
critters, Gris-Gris (and me)even got stung by a yellow jacket today.
They look like backwoods curs tonight, and we're all loving it.
Susan and the Gold and Tan Retrievers
begin paste________________
From: Chinchuba@xxxxxxx
Subject: ClickTrain=> Sleepless in Shreveport
<The true New Orleans accent isn't southern at all, but almost
Bronx-ish and sometimes nasal, due to the heavy initial population of
Irish and Irish Americans, further twisted by the Cajun and Creole
accents and inflections.>
<Popular greeting, "Hey DAH-lin, where y'at?">
My momma grew up in central La. on a by-oo. Down in S. La. it's a
by-you. We tease that there is a Bubba/Boudreaux line seperating the
rednecks in the north from the Cajuns in the south. And then finally
you come in to New Orleans, a gumbo of cultures who harmonize with each
other, but remain unique. The "yats" live in Chalmette and are truly a
race all to themselves, much like there are distinct dialects and
cultures all over the city in various N.O. neighborhoods. My husband, a
N.O. native, has an uncanny knack of telling where in the city another
native is from - uptown, river ridge, "met-tree", the parish, etc. by
listening to him speak for a few minutes.
I haven't been able to follow all the thread about why people didn't
leave, or why there is such denial about staying (and trust me, there
are many who did leave who think they'll just go on back in a few weeks
when the power is back on) but it has a lot to do with the unique
character of N.O.
My sister-in-law has never lived more than 6 blocks from the house she
was born in. More natives than you would believe have never left even
once. And likely as not, if they do take a trip, it is _down to one of
the parishes. The society is emmeshed in ways I will never penetrate
since I was not born there, and I've lived there for 30+ years. They
have their own world view, and a big part of that is that they were
born below sea level. Their grandparents lost houses to Camile, they
lived through Betsy as kids. Hurricanes happen, floods happen, but
their society is stronger and has always survived.
Many make their living off the land, trappers, shrimpers, etc. and they
live with mother nature every day. Many in the inner city live like a
third world country, walking barefoot in the streets carrying home
groceries that they cook outdoors while the children play in the dirt
because it's too hot inside. They see murder and hunger daily. Many of
the well to do are 5th or more generation in their homes and churches
and clubs, where debutantes in white dresses are still presented at
lavish balls. Women hang their wash on lines their grandfathers strung
every Monday while the red beans cook.
There are a billion scenarios of life in N.O. and what they all have in
common is a separateness from the rest of the world, a uniqueness
probably similar to burroughs of New York, or island peoples or the
like.
What has happened to all these various and cohesive cultures is
inconceivable to us, the educated sitting far away watching it all on
CNN. To those whose lives are and have always been the very fabric of
that the city, some inevitably must be clinging to the shreds of their
very existence, defiant that the outsiders telling them to do this and
that willl not tear them away from their lives, in spite of the
unthinkable going on all about them. As Scarlett said "I can't think
about that now, I'll think about that tomorrow" and that's fine
Southern tradition.
My own mother-in-law who has lived there since she was a bride come
from Bay St Louis, thinks her house is fine because she saw it on a
satelite view and there were not any shingles missing. And when they
get the power back on, she'll go home and clean it up and life will
resume. She's 79. What can I possibly say to that? Take away the
lifeline she's clinging to? Everything she holds dear and cherishes
took place there, and frankly, *I* can't imagine her starting over
anywhere else. Red beans and rice on Monday and bingo and the ladies'
club with people she's known all her life, what else could she possible
DO? If I can't imagine it, can I expect her to?
Anyway, I know I'm rambling, but I couldn't sleep and I just feel like
the saying about walking a mile in someone's shoes (or lack thereof)
surely fits here, except if you were not born and raised all your life
in that special, sometimes magical, often cruel and inhospitable, but
always familiar microcosm that is totally unique on this planet, you
cannot possibly know why someone would be standing in a filthy
undershirt on his second-floor porch sweeping water out the door with a
worn out broom, hungry, thirsty, weeping, yet waving off the boats come
to take him "away". Everyone deals with personal loss in their own way
and that's all he CAN do. I know that man - he was my neighbor.
Susan Fraser
end paste_______________
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