At the end of my afternoon in Algiers Point, I blithely took the ferry back to Canal Street, innocent of the story I would later learn. I settled in for a final dinner of oysters on the half shell and a glass of Chardonnay. This was my last night in the city.
The next day, I flew home haunted by the week I'd spent in New Orleans, a magical conundrum of history, decadence, music, food, culture, ethnicity and politics. A metropolis of writers, artists and culinary geniuses offering more sensory indulgence per square foot than almost anywhere I'd ever traveled. And yet....
Will the destroyed neighborhoods be rebuilt? Will its citizens come home?
Some believe New Orleans' time is up. They wish the city would entirely rot in its current location and relocate inland to what they think is safer, higher and newer land.
But ask a chef or a trumpeter, a poet or an architect, and they'll likely shout a resounding "nay" to the notion of abandoning the Crescent City. I unabashedly side with those voices. For me, New Orleans is a city where all things are possible — including rebirth.
Once back home in Los Angeles, I drove to my in-laws' in order to retrieve our pets, to deliver thank-you gifts and to have a necessary conversation.
When William told his parents how his latest job had ended, there was a pause and his father voiced an idea.
Maybe it's time to find another career, he said.
It was a short conversation. William was already devastated by the course of events and this was the last suggestion he needed.
I need to tell you both something, I started, as I sat with my father- and mother-in-law and our cups of tea at the kitchen table. Your son is gifted. It's a rare thing to make a living doing what he does.There will be no career changing. He needs our support.
They listened. I give them lots of credit for that.
I know you're concerned about security but let's face it, we're all watching the news and seeing employees pour out of Manhattan skyscrapers carrying cardboard boxes with their personal belongings. I'm not certain, in these troubled times, if security exists anywhere.
Well, people will always want to see movies, his mother offered.
That's true, I agreed.
His dad nodded and sipped his tea.
William and I are in the arts, I continued. The upside of that choice is that we're always prepared for unemployment. It's not pleasant but neither is it a terrible shock when it happens.
I didn't get into my angst at being into year two of my book not selling. I figured they could only stomach so much truth at one time and I was feeling like a pretty big loser when it came to what I could only loosely call my writing career.
It's a terrible business, show business, his mom said and shook her head.
She was getting the picture. The whole picture.
I stuffed Stinky and Scrabble into the car, gave a final thank you and drove off to start a new chapter with William. A period we would call unemployment or, as it was now whimsically called in the press, funemployment.
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