Hurricane Parties

I was in New Orleans this past weekend, caught up in the “ramp-up” Mardi-Gras celebrations that will culminate in the Big Party on Fat Tuesday—February 24^th. It was my first visit to New Orleans since Katrina, and the evidence of the disaster, and the abandonment that followed, lingers almost everywhere you look. The cleaning lady in the hotel still teared up at recounting the story of her teenage sons who got stranded on a rooftop for three days and finally swam to safety, but were unable to find her for weeks. Houses are still damaged and abandoned. Whole neighborhoods remain wiped out. 
And yet, the party continues, even in the shadow of the storm. I walked through the French Quarter, where a newly renovated one-bedroom condo in an old brick house with a courtyard and wrought-iron balcony could be had for $380,000. That’s either mighty brave or mighty foolish, buying in a place sure to sustain more, and possibly more devastating, hurricanes in the near future. And yet, there weren’t a slew of “For Sale” signs in the Quarter, like there are in Las Vegas or Florida’s tract housing developments.

Granted, the French Quarter has a particular appeal, and its economy is not the same as many of the neighborhoods surrounding it. But still … walking along the old storefronts, cafes, and jazz bars there, with music, laughter, and celebration spilling out into the still-damaged streets, I felt a kind of vibrant color, life, courage and strength that wasn’t all the liquid kind. Even with all the problems the city faces. 
Whatever else can be said about New Orleans, it’s clearly a place that made peace with uncertainty a long time ago. Perhaps the alcohol helps. One of the best billboards I’ve ever seen was a New Orleans tourism ad that sprang up in San Francisco soon after Katrina receded. It featured, in blue tones, an attractive woman with a martini in her hand and a wry, seductive smile on her face. And across the top, it said, “Dry? We were never dry.” So maybe it’s a combination of the alcohol and an enduring, redeeming sense of humor. Or the many storms the city has survived and rebuilt from in its past. Or its origins in questionable endeavors like the slave trade and rum running, or its unusual population of colorful and garrulous gamblers, pirates, and ladies of the night. All career tracks, it might be pointed out, that don’t trade heavily in stability, security, or predictability. 
But whether it’s a form of bravery to throw a hurricane party in the face of a storm, or just an appreciation of how valuable … and how worth celebrating … every moment you have is … New Orleans still has something to teach the rest of us about life in the face of hazard or uncertainty. Because all of us should be throwing hurricane parties, these days. Gathering with friends to laugh and remember how much stronger we are together than alone, and how many other times we’re survived together, instead of just hunkering down, afraid of the storm. 
And we should all dance down the streets, every now and then, to remind ourselves that while there are forces in life we can’t control, and no matter what might lurk in the next wave of storm clouds, we’re alive now. Hallelujah! Laissez les Bon Temps Roulez!