I am a few days behind on the blog. A little backtracking will be necessary at a later date to give you, the gracious reader, a daily chronicle of our activities. Until then, please accept these impressions, which I write hastily before fatigue renders me mute. Form an image, and offer a prayer or a smile or a laugh or a curse, but not a shrug:
The wilderness plains of the Lower Ninth Ward, and grassy, weedy fields where there used to be neighborhood blocks
An Upper Ninth Ward church being re-built, ready to be re-born, like the body of Jesus on Holy Saturday neither dead nor alive
The tent cities of homeless hurricane survivors encamped by Canal Street under Interstate 10
Food for the soul and pearls of great price at Christian Unity Baptist Church, and soul food at a seafood buffet hidden like a pearl in the West Bank
Duke Ellington and Cole Porter and Bob Dylan and Miles Davis jazzed and funked up on a sweet Sunday night on Frenchmen Street
The cafes and circuses of the French Quarter, kaleidoscope of class and kitsch, and the Superdome bathing in the colors of the season of Mardi Gras
Lake Pontchartrain, whose waters sit above New Orleans with endless expanse
Today's unmourned casualties of the hurricane, who continue to die of broken hearts in exile or be wounded by nightmares
The angry ministers of New Orleans whose love for their people is more fierce than the surging floodwaters of Katrina
The welcoming into New Orleans, their home, by people who do not take home for granted
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