I broke down and cried for the first time since New Orleans/Louisiana issued a stay at home order. Four weeks of me trying to being the strong one, teaching online, checking on friends and family, trying to be optimistic (more time to read is always a good thing!), and I cracked.
It came out of nowhere. I was watching a video love letter to New Orleans from a man in New York City. In it, I saw my adopted home: full of interactions, joy, hugs, smiles, music; full of life. And I cried.
I miss my students, even the ones that drive me crazy. Especially the ones that drive me crazy.
I miss my colleagues, that amazing group of educators dedicated to insuring that our students know they're loved and cared about in the midst of all of this.
I miss my New Orleans friend-family. I miss their faces, their hugs, their dumb jokes.
I miss being able to go out to restaurants, bars, festivals, theaters.
I miss being able to walk down the streets, seeing the strange and wonderful variety of people who inhabit this city.
I miss being able to travel.
I miss the crush of humanity.
I miss life.
New Orleans isn't supposed to be quiet. We're not supposed to be separated from our community. We're supposed to be out in the streets, enjoying each other's company. Instead, we're mourning our losses separately, unable to gather together to share the sorrow. No one here is untouched. I have friends who have had the coronavirus or who are waiting on test results, and friends who have lost loved ones.
And I know we're not the only ones. My heart is with everyone trying to cope with this strange, awful situation. I'm terrified for my family and loved ones in Nebraska, where there is no stay at home order, and the numbers are starting to accelerate. But this virus is hitting New Orleans differently. We're losing our culture bearers to this awful disease. The ones who create the music, the life that everyone loves so much.
Our most vulnerable populations are being hit hard. And while I could go on a rant about the incompetence of this federal administration (and believe me, I have), please realize that we can't go back to the old normal when this is through.
Things have to change--socially and politically--if we want to insure that something like this doesn't happen again.
We will get through this. Stay safe. Stay home.
I love you.
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| From Jazz Fest 2019, when life was normal |
