Living in New Orleans was strange and wonderful in some ways. It was a corrupt Louisiana city, but it was somehow more than that. It felt like a bough of New York, not a city in Louisiana. In summer, the summers that sometimes seemed destined never to end, the stench of cooking red beans did haunt Monday mornings. Cajuns did commute from nearby wetlands in the morning and drive home in the evenings. Scandinavians did love the city, as did German tourists. The Scandinavians stayed to imitate famous Jazz musicians and to replace them when the old men died.

Members of the Preservation Hall Jazz Band did dress in formal wear and appeared cool and aristocratic in performance at the Jazz and Heritage Festival in the spring.

I did know someone who had known Charles Ives in her church in New York. She called him Old Charlie Ives. The streetcars did feel cool no matter how hot the day grew. The coffee was cheap but good. Your waiters at Camellia Grill did recall you and did bring you the usual order. Ships did float above your head behind the levee.

In New Orleans, Linda and I knew people who had never been to Baton Rouge. They feared the very notion of driving to the capitol of their state. I never quite felt that New Orleans was like San Francisco, except that New Orleans was a tourist trap like San Francisco.

I sometime mention attending a Russian movie and being part of an audience of mostly Russian speakers. I enjoyed that. I used to be able to walk to work or walk a good part of the way to work. It was not exactly safe, but it was somewhat romantic. The air was heavy, moist with the breathe of flowers, but the stench of dog poop mixed with stale beer did pervade summer mornings in the Vieux Carré as someone washed down the sidewalks in front of the bars.

Members of my congregation in New Orleans marched routinely to protest what war of the moment needed protesting. It was no big deal, it was what we did. One woman told me about marching in New York to protest the tearing down of a children's park. Later she learned that park was on the site of the United Nations.

i can hardly read your post the font is to small

Blaise I want to thank you for taking me to some wonderful places. Your writings have the gift of showing me other places. Thank you for taking me with you and you must keep writing. I am a fan.

tugon (imported) wrote: Wed Jul 30, 2008 5:58 pm Blaise I want to thank you for taking me to some wonderful places. Your writings have the gift of showing me other places. Thank you for taking me with you and you must keep writing. I am a fan.

Thank you, New Orleans is a strange and fascinating place. You just made my morning.

kennath7 (imported) wrote: Wed Jul 30, 2008 2:04 pm i can hardly read your post the font is to small

]I have trouble finding a middle way. I apologize for that problem. A 2 is too small and a 3 is too large. I apologize for the problem.

kennath7 (imported) wrote: Wed Jul 30, 2008 2:04 pm i can hardly read your post the font is to small

On the display on my computer, the size of the type is the same as the size of the type in your post. It might differ on your screen. I don't know what to do about it. [This is a 2.] [This is a 3.]

Blaise (imported) wrote: Wed Jul 30, 2008 12:20 pm Living in New Orleans was strange and wonderful in some ways. It was a corrupt Louisiana city, but it was somehow more than that. It felt like a bough of New York, not a city in Louisiana.

I lived in Baton Rouge for over twelve years and frequently got down to New Orleans. I always enjoyed those times in part because it seemed so very different from other American cities. It was unique and the wonderful blend of cultures and ethnic groups was stimulating and exciting. I am originally from the northeast and have spent a lot of time in NYC and Philadelphia and lived in one of them. New Orleans did not seem to me to be in Louisiana either but in a special place of its own.

My boss was originally from New Orleans. Before I knew that, I had always thought she was from the New York area. Her accent was not what I thought of as being southern in any way.

Blaise (imported) wrote: Wed Jul 30, 2008 12:20 pm In summer, the summers that sometimes seemed destined never to end, the stench of cooking red beans did haunt Monday mornings. Cajuns did commute from nearby wetlands in the morning and drive home in the evenings. Scandinavians did love the city, as did German tourists. The Scandinavians stayed to imitate famous Jazz musicians and to replace them when the old men died.

When I first moved to the deep South, to Houston, I thought I would die in the relentless summer heat and humidity. After several years I got used to it but always longed for the first cool front that usually arrived sometime in October. The night time temperatures might drop into the 60s for the first time in months and the humidty dropped, too.

There always seemed to be one day each May when I knew, without a doubt, that summer had arrived in full force and would not let up for many months. I adapted and appreciated some of the benefits of a long summer. Especially the much longer growing season and greater variety of plants I could grow than had been possible in the north. Then there were the beautiful camellias that bloomed through the winter.

When in New Orleans, I spent a lot of time on Canal Street, in the French Quarter and in the Garden District along St. Charles. There were always lots of tourists around from all over.

Blaise (imported) wrote: Wed Jul 30, 2008 12:20 pm Members of the Preservation Hall Jazz Band did dress in formal wear and appeared cool and aristocratic in performance at the Jazz and Heritage Festival in the spring.

One hazy summer afternoon, my ex-wife and I were in the French Quarter when a jazz band passed us by. They were leading a funeral party that seemed very intent on celebrating the life of their loved one. The music was outstanding.

Blaise (imported) wrote: Wed Jul 30, 2008 12:20 pm I did know someone who had known Charles Ives in her church in New York. She called him Old Charlie Ives. The streetcars did feel cool no matter how hot the day grew. The coffee was cheap but good. Your waiters at Camellia Grill did recall you and did bring you the usual order. Ships did float above your head behind the levee.

I regret that I never rode one of the New Orleans streetcars. My first visit to NO was many years before we moved to Louisiana. I was a student then and attending a conference. I was so in love with NO that I spent too much time walking around the city in late May. I spent hours outside of the conference hall and in the neighborhoods seeing the sites. There were other students doing the same thing.

This was my first real taste of New Orleans. I was surprised when the waitress at a restaurant addressed me in a familiar way, as if we had been friends for some time. My northern reserve made this a little uncomfortable at first.

It was also during this visit that I walked into a moving bus. I was so preoccupied with looking at everything around me that I did not see it turning in the cross walk in front of me. I received no lasting injuries

One of the things I liked about the Mississippi River area by was the fact that it was below sea level. It was really neat to see ocean-going vessels, barges, tug boats and smaller craft passing by overhead as I stood by the levee. I climbed the steps to the top of the levee to get a sweeping view of the wide river and its strong currents.

Blaise (imported) wrote: Wed Jul 30, 2008 12:20 pm In New Orleans, Linda and I knew people who had never been to Baton Rouge. They feared the very notion of driving to the capitol of their state. I never quite felt that New Orleans was like San Francisco, except that New Orleans was a tourist trap like San Francisco.

We were lucky to know some of the locals who could direct us to little-known, but very good, restaurants and out of the way places seldom visited by tourists.

Blaise (imported) wrote: Wed Jul 30, 2008 12:20 pm I sometime mention attending a Russian movie and being part of an audience of mostly Russian speakers. I enjoyed that. I used to be able to walk to work or walk a good part of the way to work. It was not exactly safe, but it was somewhat romantic. The air was heavy, moist with the breathe of flowers, but the stench of dog poop mixed with stale beer did pervade summer mornings in the Vieux Carré as someone washed down the sidewalks in front of the bars.

The number of odors in the Vieux Carré was large. I tended to ignore the unpleasant ones. There were flowers of many kinds hanging from the wrought iron balconies and in nearly hidden interior court yards also filled with palms and other tropical plants. When I first visited, I did not know how to pronounce Vieux Carré. Even when I had learned, the French Quarter was already stuck in my mind. Then there was also the matter of the proper way to say 'New Orleans'. That I picked up and used pretty quickly.

Blaise (imported) wrote: Wed Jul 30, 2008 12:20 pm Members of my congregation in New Orleans marched routinely to protest what war of the moment needed protesting. It was no big deal, it was what we did. One woman told me about marching in New York to protest the tearing down of a children's park. Later she learned that park was on the site of the United Nations.

I do not think I ever went into any of the many churches in the city, with the exception of St. Louis Cathedral. The cemeteries were very interesting. Many along interstate 10 and other areas had large mausoleums. All the graves were built above ground because the water table was so high.

I appreciate your sharing your life here, Blaise, in an intimate insider's way. It brings back many of the good memories I have of New Orleans that I have not thought about in years.

tugon (imported) wrote: Wed Jul 30, 2008 5:58 pm Blaise I want to thank you for taking me to some wonderful places. Your writings have the gift of showing me other places. Thank you for taking me with you and you must keep writing. I am a fan.

I agree, I was taking that walk with you, keep writing.

River

Thank you, I appreciate that!

Blaise-

First off... You change your avatar more often than a french man changes his underwear.

I spent a week in NO last summer on business. The heat was suffocating, as was the humidity. Any time I think that it is too hot here in Los Angeles, reflect on that time spent in NO.

The thing that you did not comment about was the people. I found them to be some of warmest, most open, and caring people I have ever met. EVERYONE says hello, and smiles at you when they say it. They hold doors open. and seem like they are laughing all the time.

Additionally, they are some of the fattest people I have ever seen. I am a fat guy, and I felt skinny the whole time I was there. Every other man was wearing a searsucker suit (look it up),and they looked great in them even if they were 500 pounds. The ladies all seemed elegant and slightly more formal than I am used to, but were always charming.

I am regret that I was only able to spend a week there. I would love to go back during a cooler season. What a lovely city filled with lovely people...