Last Tuesday, my husband celebrated his thirtieth birthday. The actual celebration began on Saturday when I threw him a surprise party (it was one of the most difficult things I've even done...whew!). But in the end, he was definitely surprised! I had been telling him that we were going to be taking a little trip, so I decided to give the party a Mardi Gras theme to give him a little hint. I think it was the Rebirth Brass Band's Do Whatcha Wanna that finally helped him realize that we'd be vacationing in New Orleans.
I attended Xavier University of Louisiana, but I've only been back to the city twice since graduating. The last time was in May 2005, right before the city was rocked by Hurricane Katrina. He and I were both anxious and nervous to see what condition the city was in since our last visit. The people of New Orleans hold a special place in my heart, but always have because it was home for several years. Our plan was to have the full tourist experience, we were sure to dine at our favorite restaurants; which include Semolina's and The Quarterview. We really had an awesome time, better than we both expected. But the most sobering moment came when we ventured to the Ninth Ward. I remember the first time I saw the literal death and devastation that filled the streets due to the hurricane. I fell to my knees and screamed because I felt as though the residents (not refugees) of New Orleans we "my" people. They were the children I'd mentored, the teachers and staff at Xavier, and friends. During the entire ordeal, I was glued to the television or computer screen or tuned into the radio waiting to hear any development-any news-any sign of hope. My local church even became a shelter for people who came to Houston with no place to go further intertwining my heart with those of the people of New Orleans. Five years later, houses were still abandoned, roofs still torn off, red X's still stained painted and brick homes. I wonder when those who have returned to the neighborhood look at those homes that read 9-21 (indicating the day that the home was searched), do they remember the lives that once filled the place but received help far too late; nearly a month after the tragedy?
Since returning to Houston, many people have asked me how the city looks or if everything is back to "normal". I would say that the much of the city as recovered, but I do not know if normal is possible. But in the midst of all that I witnessed and felt, I knew that I needed to do something. I needed to let people know that the city of New Orleans is still alive and pulsating with people, culture, music, art, and fashion. I left the Ninth Ward on a mission, a mission to find local boutiques who fill the Crescent City with beauty and unique style.
You will read about two such boutiques in the next story.
Stylishly submitted,
Dean Tipper Diva
I attended Xavier University of Louisiana, but I've only been back to the city twice since graduating. The last time was in May 2005, right before the city was rocked by Hurricane Katrina. He and I were both anxious and nervous to see what condition the city was in since our last visit. The people of New Orleans hold a special place in my heart, but always have because it was home for several years. Our plan was to have the full tourist experience, we were sure to dine at our favorite restaurants; which include Semolina's and The Quarterview. We really had an awesome time, better than we both expected. But the most sobering moment came when we ventured to the Ninth Ward. I remember the first time I saw the literal death and devastation that filled the streets due to the hurricane. I fell to my knees and screamed because I felt as though the residents (not refugees) of New Orleans we "my" people. They were the children I'd mentored, the teachers and staff at Xavier, and friends. During the entire ordeal, I was glued to the television or computer screen or tuned into the radio waiting to hear any development-any news-any sign of hope. My local church even became a shelter for people who came to Houston with no place to go further intertwining my heart with those of the people of New Orleans. Five years later, houses were still abandoned, roofs still torn off, red X's still stained painted and brick homes. I wonder when those who have returned to the neighborhood look at those homes that read 9-21 (indicating the day that the home was searched), do they remember the lives that once filled the place but received help far too late; nearly a month after the tragedy?
Since returning to Houston, many people have asked me how the city looks or if everything is back to "normal". I would say that the much of the city as recovered, but I do not know if normal is possible. But in the midst of all that I witnessed and felt, I knew that I needed to do something. I needed to let people know that the city of New Orleans is still alive and pulsating with people, culture, music, art, and fashion. I left the Ninth Ward on a mission, a mission to find local boutiques who fill the Crescent City with beauty and unique style.
You will read about two such boutiques in the next story.
Stylishly submitted,
Dean Tipper Diva
Great Post :)--Jdubb
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