I was sitting here writing a different blog, and changed my mind. I want to write about a little boy and his younger sister.
My husband and I went to New Orleans this past summer. Now, of course it was an amazing trip, considering neither of us had been. But this trip to me, was a little bit more special because we took a day to visit the Lower Ninth Ward and the devastation that the Hurricanes had caused.
We didn't know prior to visiting New Orleans that you could actually go on an organized tour through these areas. Upon perusing the brochures in the Hotel lobby, we learned that you can tour the cemeteries, swamps and "NOW NEW AND IMPROVED TOUR THE DEVASTATION OF THE LOWER NINTH WARD!" *Gulp. That was a little too hokey for me.
I had brought both cameras along on this day trip and an extra memory card. I wasn't prepared to miss a thing. On the other hand, I felt like such a jerk taking photos of other people's misery. It just didn't seem right at the time. Maybe it still isn't right, but I'm a "see it to believe it" kind of girl. The news didn't show me what my own two eyes could. And I wasn't prepared.
Mostly, our drive was silent. We were both astounded at the devastation and ruin in the community. We were both aware of the fact that at many times, we weren't welcome there. I imagine tour buses in your neighborhood will do that to a resident.
We just crept around in our car, feeling sad and astounded all at the same time. I mean, this was four years later and there were piles and piles of garbage in the streets. But this garbage was different. It was walls and carpets and sinks and windows and furniture. It was lives and memories in piles on the roads left to rot in four years of neglect. Utter sadness.
Rounding corners, it was wise to keep an eye on who was watching you. It was wise not to stare. Dark tinted vehicles made their rounds and crept in behind us wondering what we were up to. We just kept going and I kept shooting. People would arise from their porches to gesture to us at street corners wondering "whatchoo lookin' at?"
Understood. This is not a Zoo. You are not on exhibit. This is your neighbourhood and your home. I understand. Driving on...
We passed dumpsters and FEMA trailers and foundations with lone flowers growing at the sidewalk where houses used to stand. We saw unimagineable heartache. Yes, we saw it; and we felt it.
The sun had come out and the clouds were parting when we decided enough was enough. I had my photos and my husband had had his fill of sadness for the day. I looked at the map and suggested that he take a right at the next corner to get us back to the main road and out of the neighbourhood. He argued, but I know my directions if nothing else!
Upon heading to the corner in our rental car, I saw a little guy and his (presumably) younger sister approaching the corner as well. We made a right turn and I watched while Older Brother gently put his arm out and stopped Younger Sister from crossing close to our car.
I smiled at his kind protectiveness and he smiled back at me.
My heart swelled. For the most part, we had been unwelcome in that neighbourhood. We were tourists getting high on other people`s misery.
But for this one quick instant, I realized that just one resident of the Lower Ninth Ward knew I saw the good and the kind and he smiled at a complete stranger in a car.
So, I was going to blog about how much I really dislike coffee, but instead, I remembered this little boy and his sister. I hope he shot hoops that day and that she cheered him on. I hope they found a safe place to play amidst that heartache and that they were happy for the afternoon.
I don`t know what home they went back to, or where they lived. I don`t know if they have a backyard to play in and warm safe beds at night. I do hope that we all remind our children and friends and loved ones how lucky we all really are.
