My Love Letter to New Orleans

On the 10th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, a group called Evacuteer.org is trying to raise money to place 17 statues around New Orleans.  These would be evacuation bus stops for people who need help getting out if another hurricane were to hit.
As part of their fundraising, they have solicited "love letters to New Orleans" from people to help raise money and awareness, and people like Archie Manning, Steve Gleason, and the Neville Brothers have contributed essays.
Here's the one I posted on their web site:


My family moved to Long Beach, Mississippi just as the Saints were born in New Orleans.
Although I was only in 7th grade, we became rabid and frustrated fans immediately.  The travels to mystical New Orleans were many, and my parents brought us to all the classic restaurants like Brennans, Antoines, and Arnauds, as well as an occasional Saints game.  I even got to a Super Bowl, climbing to the top of Tulane Stadium on crutches to watch the Steelers beat the Vikings.

When I attended college in Hattiesburg, me and my buddies would frequently travel to New Orleans.  One of the reason would be to eat a great slab of prime rib at the long-gone Victoria Station.  We thought it was incredible.  I remember one of my marketing professors, Dr. Tom Smith, asking me what the hell I was doing going down there to eat beef when there was so much other great food.

I would soon learn what he was talking about.  I graduated and took a job in New Orleans and began to get it.  From 1978 to 1988 I loved the whole area, and it loved me back to the tune of about 30 pounds.  And I didn't have any money!  If I'd had, well I hate to think how much more trouble I would have gotten into.  There is no other culture in America like New Orleans.  I often say I've never traveled outside the US, except when I go to New Orleans.

Between the fact that I married a beautiful Louisiana girl who claims to have resided at one time or another in every New Orleans neighborhood, and the fact that my job took me to every single street on both banks of the river, I began to drink it in and really appreciate the uniqueness of south Louisiana.

In 1988 we began moving around the country for my job, and we finally moved back to Mississippi in 1999.  While we were away, we began to form our guidelines for the rest of our life.  Never miss a Jazz Fest, never miss a Saints game, never eat gumbo north of I-10, never miss a hot restaurant, and never stop sweating (whether you're sweating out a hurricane's path, or just sweating.)

I can't believe it's been 10 years since Katrina, but what I can believe is the depth of the resolve and the love that we all feel for this whole area.  The Who Dat nation has a unique set of landmarks to us - whether it's dinner at Brigtsen's, Crawfish Monica at the Jazz Fest, a Ferdi at Mother's, Grilled oysters at just about every restaurant now, the Acura Stage, a snoball at Hansen's, a Saenger experience, a Central Grocery muffaletta, a stroll down Frenchman Street, or Royal, or even Bourbon, a shrimp po-boy at Parkway, or the thrill of falling in love with another restaurant, you just can't beat New Orleans.  When a Saints fan thanks and welcomes a visiting fan for the other team (which doesn't happen in any other place in America, believe me) it tells you two things - we know how our bread is buttered, and there's going to be a lot of it.

Dressed.