trip

It was a trip. In all senses of the word. Gather eight women from age 27 to 65 in one vehical, in one condo, with one key. . .

Those were the only "ones". With eight women were countless unspoken expectations, hopes, weaknesses, appetites, interests, tolerances and energy levels.

We had never braved this together before. Our friendships were from ten years to nine months. The limo ride to was a blast. We were like school children, preparing for a field trip. It was a stretch Navigator, so we had lots of room, lots of mimosas and bloody marys, music and laughs.


















As we neared New Orleans, my daughter's tears mirrored my own as we faced the beginning of the Hurricane Katrina devastation. Miles of houses and apartment buildings that crumbled under Katrina's bullying power.

Our leader who is from the Big Easy gave us the verbage of the before and after, mile upon mile. How heartwrenching it must be for her to see her birthplace ravaged, maybe beyond repair.

Our accomodations were as grand as our transportation. We were high above the city and oh, so comfy.


We went to Jazz Fest Friday afternoon. My back/leg was screaming in pain, so I had to be in a wheelchair. I cannot tell you what it did to my soul to burden my friends with pushing me around. It was frightening to be so helpless. I sat in the Gospel Tent and cried as I listened to songs of hope, praying for a miracle.

We dined that night at a lovely place dear to S's heart.

Sleep came easy. I was exhausted.

Saturday morning, I awoke to squeals and giggles. M was showing her favorite new lingerie, Hanky Panky to all the women. She is so with it, so trendy. I know her husband must say prayers of thanks every night for being married to such a loving, contempory gal.

S and her local friend (who graciously allowed us to stay in her castle, I mean condo) went on to Jazz Fest. The rest decided to shop on Magazine Street. Walking was such a challange to me. My daughter and I split off, went at my snail's pace, into Funky Monkey (where she found a groovy skirt for $5!), Shoe Nami and many other cool boutiques.

We had a lovely lunch outside. The wind was blowing, so soon we had gritty faces, and who knows what landed in our food!

At lunch, J and S textmessaged us from the Fest and we decided to catch a cab! We arrived in time to get in place for David Matthews band!!! My tender daughter wheeled me through the dirt forever to get us there. She is not the workhorse type, so it was a love labor, believe me.



J and B joined us and we had beer, cuban sandwiches and a long drink of fabulous music. S and L were able to find us. Long story short, after dinners and drama and driving, we all landed in our beds for a good night's sleep.

Sunday, we headed to the Quarter, S and I attended the last half of Mass at the Cathedral, joined the others at Cafe Du Monde, then began shopping. Of course, my body objected, so I spent an hour or two at MarketPlaceCafe, listening to jazz with a glass of red and an icepack on L5.

Lunch there and then a long trip through the Ninth Ward and much more, surveying what seemed like endless destruction. Much of New Orleans is a ghost town. What withstood the storm flourishes. The signs in many of the damaged areas that said, "we are coming back" were stirring glimpses at the courage and resiliency of a unique people group.

I learned a lot. I learned what TT must feel like in his weakened state from all his health devastions. I learned that while Hurricanes Ivan and Dennis were a hard blow to our city, that they were but a mosquito bite compared to the rage of Katrina. I learned what I am thinking in my head and feeling in my heart does not always get rightly communicated through my mouth or actions, and if that is the case with me, most likely it is the case with all humans.

We traveled to a storm site, had our own storms, and like the storm cycle, had sunshine and clear skies before and hopefully they will return after.