23 April 2006 - Southern Farewell

It was one more morning of showers, breakfast by the bleachers, and logistical planning. All the pallets and wood that had been risers for the tents had to be collected and stowed, so Tiberio drove the City Team forklift over and moved the wood. After the rented truck was packed Michael and Oliver would take the borrowed chairs back to New Orleans and drive the truck back to Austin. The Karamazov bus would head east, and different groups would depart from the airports in New Orleans and Gulfport. Andrea and Michelle were planning to stay on for Jazz Fest. Tim, Eben and I had to leave camp before everything was finished in order to return the RV on time, so we reluctantly bid farewell to the folks we wouldn't see later in the day on our return flights to the Northwest.

After returning the RV, we traveled back to New Orleans for one last bit of sightseeing. We drove past the still battered Superdome, and through the Garden District, relatively high and dry and in good shape. Under the freeway were miles and miles of dead cars parked side by side, more causalities of the flood. We saw long stretches of the famous graveyards with thickly crowded, aboveground burial sites and mausoleums. This is a city of great and lavish extremes. We saw people walking pairs of Harlequin Great Danes, large extravagant dogs, through the ornate streets, and felt how the districts of the dead in the midst of the neighborhoods of the living create a powerful sense of ancestral presence. Characterized by warmth, vibrancy, intimacy, intensity and the pulse of music set amidst the extremes of religion, Mardi Gras, profound racial conflict and violence, New Orleans retains its heroic spirit. The wholesale destruction of its neighborhoods and scattering of its people to the four winds has left the future nature of the city in grave doubt. The recovery that is taking place is largely due to the hard work of citizens and volunteers. Hurricane season is upon them again. There is more left to be done than we would ever have imagined.

At the airport, we met up again over piles of luggage, and made our way inside to decide how to spend the time before departure. Dr. John walked right by us, returning home for Jazz Fest. He is one of my music gods, so it was a benediction of the best sort.