No School Today

The grey clouds came close, trying to touch the ground, but they couldn’t quite reach, so they poured themselves out in the attempt. I awoke to a gentle swirling world just starting to turn white. The snow came down steadily for most of the morning, and looking out the window I could see the progression of the snow, coming to cover the grass and trees and pavement in a soft thin blanket.

Something about snow makes me feel like a small child again; skipping everything to stay at home and admire the snow is exciting. We built a snowman, or snow girl, to be precise, we attempted sledding on an inner tube, we drank hot chocolate and sat by the gas fire — all the things one should do on a snow day.

Everyone needs a few snow days, a few days when everything stops and there is time to listen to the silence that snow brings. Next time you have a snow day, go outside and listen. You may hear the peaceful silence and it may do you some good.

NOLA 2008

What do you think of when someone says “New Orleans”? Katrina devastation? Jazz? Mardi Gras? The Mississippi River? Last week I went with the Fellows and some UVA students work with Habitat for Humanity in New Orleans. I’d never been before, and was glad of the opportunity to go see for myself what damage remains after hurricane Katrina two and a half years later.

My first thought as we walked around Magazine street was, “am I still in America?” NOLA has an atmosphere unlike that of any other American city I’ve been to [though I cannot say my experience is vast]. The architecture harkens back to European influence, especially French influence, and we got the feeling that people are more laid back than most other Americans. NOLA seems to be a city that knows how to celebrate, a city that doesn’t mind being open [about alcohol, among other things].

I loved walking around the town, admiring the fact that most businesses are local instead of chains, the fact that the architecture is lovely, the friendliness of the people I encountered, the closely knit communities.

But of course, not everything about NOLA is beautiful. The devastation is real: next to one house that has been renovated are three shells of houses and a driveway that goes to a plot of grass. Driving through the lower 9th Ward the first night [I didn't realize at the time where I was] I was struck by the sense of loss and sadness that hangs over what remains there.

New Orleans is a place in need. Some people have moved back to the city, but many are afraid or haunted or have simply put down roots elsewhere. NOLA needs people of presence to move in and make a difference, as Ray Cannata, the pastor of Redeemer church in NOLA, told us. Actually, he told us that we should all move down there; I think he enjoys stirring things up.

My reflections on NOLA are still scattered, at best. I’m not sure what I think just yet, I’m still in the processing stage, but I thought I should get out a few initial thoughts for those of you who are interested.