It happens about once a year when visiting my family in Louisiana. My sister Jo has lived there for over 45 years. Her boys are now grown men with families and directions of their own.
The Food
There is a love for this part of the country — the scent of the gulf, the air that carries its own personality, and the slur in the tongue of its natives.
When you visit, it is required to have a Po-Boy of either shrimp or roast beef — and don’t forget to say “dressed,” or else the sandwich will not be oozing with mayo, and the lettuce and tomatoes will not fall out with every bite. We ate at Parkway in New Orleans (voted the best in town), and the Po-Boy had endless fried shrimp with the crustiest bread. An inconsiderate appetite left not one morsel for the birds.
The Road Not Taken
A visit to Baton Rouge was on the wish list, but Jo would not hear of it. Coffee and beignets at Café Du Monde in the French Quarter was also out of the question. Being denied a photograph with the Mississippi as a backdrop, however, was simply not an option. Some coaxing was required, but eventually Jo and her son Nick drove to the Harvey Locks. Stepping down the deep levee, the scenery opened up — a crane appeared to be wading at the water’s edge, a tugboat helped a larger vessel navigate its way through the narrow passage, and the city watched silently from a distance.
The Photo That Almost Wasn’t
At first, the photo session was a disaster. Whether it was the white clothing casting an unflattering light or simply fate, every picture came out displeasing. Nick stepped in as photographer, but the more he tried, the worse things became. Then came what seemed like a brilliant idea — moving closer to the water’s edge. Nick warned that the rocks were unsteady. The warning was ignored. The unsteady rock won. The fall was not terrible, but the angle was awkward enough that getting up required assistance. Nick laughed so hard his arms went limp — like overcooked spaghetti — and he had to collect himself before any help was possible. The dramatic announcement of the fall did not go unnoticed by those enjoying the view from the park benches above.
Around the Table
Dinner was shared with Jo’s son Torie and his family — his wife Stacie, their children Julia and the twins Tyson and Jake, and Stacie’s mother Myra. After dinner, a Bible study unfolded that, despite all the delightful distractions, turned out to be wonderful. Jo’s oldest son Frank and his wife Lindy were occupied with their boys, so that visit was short and sweet. The following evening, Nick and Michele and their daughter Sophie joined for dinner, followed by another lively Bible study.
Lost in the Beauty
The next day brought an adventure — dinner at The Mint, a trendy restaurant in the Uptown District. New Orleans’ infrastructure is still bearing the wounds of Katrina, and nearly every street is under construction. Even with navigation, finding the restaurant was its own journey of wrong turns. Rocky, Jo’s youngest son, had already arrived and kept calling to ask where everyone was. It was easy to get lost — not just on the streets, but in the beauty of the stately mansions lining them, each with its own charm and character, some of which were once plantations. Across the broad avenues, the old oak trees seemed to reach toward one another in a friendly embrace, their branches so intertwined it was impossible to tell where one ended and another began.
Before and After
Everyone still speaks of Katrina as a dividing line — pre-Katrina and post-Katrina. The Category 5 hurricane swept the city clean, then drowned it in salt water and brought its citizens to their knees. But it also bound them together. No storm will ever destroy the hearts of its people, and New Orleans stands as living proof.
Jo
As Jo sweeps the floors of her shop, she listens to the French singer Édith Piaf perform “Non, je ne regrette rien” — the only phrase she understands of the lyrics is “no regrets.” It suits her. Jo is on the edge of a significant transition — downsizing from her empty nest to a smaller, more intimate home. The move is exhausting, and there is much to organize before this new phase of life begins. From childhood on, she was always the one doing the chores, running the errands, holding things together for the family. The only difference now is that she does it for her own. She visits her late husband’s grave regularly, reminding him how much he is missed — and what he has missed. Her spirit remains bright, and within the family she is known simply as the woman who can do whatever she sets her mind to. To those who know her best, she is simply fascinating.
