It was two weeks ago today that we left New Orleans. We had a great vacation. I finished the paper the night before the presentation, and the presentation went very well. Interestingly enough, Mom did try to bring us back early. We arrived on Tuesday, and on Wednesday started receiving phone calls from the nursing home. Mom had pneumonia. They were keeping her home from daycare, and her doctor was coming to see her that afternoon. Pnemonia in someone my mother's age and condition could easily be fatal. But going home would accomplish nothing but the cancellation of our vacation.
Mom has a history of falling every time we would try to take off for a few days. Either at home just before we left, or the first time we put her in respite, the first day at the care center; that time she broke 4 ribs. And made an amazing recovery. My thought upon hearing of the pneumonia was that she can't get up on her own anymore, so she can't fall; instead, she'll get sick in order to try to bring us home.
Luckily, her doctor, my college friend, saw her that afternoon. She called and left a voice mail at our hotel that allowed us to enjoy the rest of our stay without worry about Mom. Dr. Barb looked at the x-ray, which she said was not of good quality. She said that what looks like the beginning of pneumonia could also be the result of Mom's shallow breathing. She had a cough, but was already perking up from her morning lethargy. She said not to worry, stay and have a good time. Knowing that the nursing home and Dr. Barb were now in communication (the charge nurse at the home kept commenting on how nice Dr. Barb was!), and that there was nothing we could do anyway, we let go and enjoyed ourselves.
We walked, and ate, and listened to music, and ate, and took tours, and ate. Great seafood--we had such terrific chargrilled oysters at Acme House, it's one of two places we went to twice (the other was the little middle-Eastern diner a couple of blocks from the hotel where they made the felafel as you waited--fresh and tasty!). We had great shrimp and red beans and rice. New Orleans is not really a town for vegetarians; thank goodness we eat seafood.
I loved walking the streets of the French Quarter, looking at architecture and people so different from what I'm used to. The people were so incredibly open, stopping us on the street just to have a conversation. None of that friendly Midwest reserve. And the history! The first tour we took was a Haunted History tour, which really was about the history of New Orleans and the French Quarter, and some of its many supposed hauntings. At one point I mentioned to Jonathan, our tour guide (who is a natural-born storyteller) that one thing I liked about New Orleans is that they are not always trying to modernize and upgrade everything. "Thank you for noticing," he replied. "New Orleanians don't just love their history, they live history." And I must say that most people we talked to were extremely knowledgeable about the history there.
In addtion to the Haunted History tour, we toured the Bayou, and on Easter Sunday we tried to tour one of the cemeteries (more about that in a minute) and we took a Hurricane Katrina tour. There is still so much devastation from Katrina; houses that have been renovated interspersed between the vacant lots where houses used to stand and the still ruined shells of houses. It was sobering. The picture on the right shows the building of two houses by Brad Pitt's organization, Make It Right 9, behind the vacant lots of demolished homes.
The cemetery tour almost made for a great story. We arrived at the gates of the St. Louis I cemetery at the posted time, and the gates were locked. Other people arrived and left, but we hung around. Eventually the tour guide showed up, but he didn't have a key. The police are supposed to unlock the gates on the weekend, and he never showed. So Walter gave us the external tour, took us around the walls, explaining the above-ground tombs and how they worked. There are 3 gates, and at each one he showed us what he could from our limited vantage point. He also suggested that we climb the gate. I hesitated, only because I have bad knees, and had to be sure I could both get in and out. Before I could respond, Walter said he would go over, take my camera, and take some pictures. So I do have a picture of Marie Laveau's tomb. She was the Queen of Voodoo in New Orleans in her day, a famous historical figure. What a great story it would have made if I could say I broke into a cemetery on Easter Sunday! I keep telling myself I could lie for the sake of the story, but so far have not been able to bring myself to do it.
Pictures from the bayou:
And now we are home again, and life has returned more or less to normal. We really did get away in NOLA, and were able to be present in the moment. And we're trying to hang on to that now that we're home, and life is so different. Here's hoping we succeed.
