“Everything Old is New Again”

“ . . . a new philosophy of the use of force. It has no rational political purpose, in that it is not designed to achieve a political aim, but is simply intended to inflict hurt on the hated non-Islamic world." – Sir John Keegan on Rumsfeld and Islam.

* * *

“It isn’t about oil,” L. A. Norma said stirring sugar into her coffee. “It is about good versus evil. Evil just happens to have oil. Good just happens to want it.”

“Since it isn’t about oil, why don’t the oil companies donate the oil to the effort?” Norma asked this as she stepped aboard the Southern Crescent, bound for Washington, D. C. “I mean we give our Sons and Daughters, why don’t they give oil?”

Her waiter friend added, “It isn’t much to ask compared to our children, our jobs, our safety and our freedom!”

I helped carry their bags to their cabin. A sofa and chair faced us, and a picture window looked over the tracks towards Macy’s and the Louisiana Superdome. The peace loving duo was training North, in time for a worldwide anti-war demonstration, because her waiter friend had use of his father’s Watergate condo for the week.

“Iraq did not attack the World Trade Center,” Norma explained to their car’s Train-Attendant. The T-A smiled like this was going to be a long trip. “Cheney’s secret plan is plundering this country just like they plundered Enron,” Norma said handing the T-A her lighted cigarette. “You mean no smoking at all?”

“No,” said the T-A, “but at designated times, in the smoking car only.”

The overhead speakers spoke of imminent departure. I stepped from the sleeping car and waved as they slid away towards the nation’s capitol. When the bar car passed I saw their Train-Attendant laying a bottle of medicinal red on a tray with two upturned glasses.

* * *

Faubourg Marigny preservationist and cemetarian, Lloyd Sensat, sent this knee-slapper of a conversation he had with his friend Gene Cizak:

“It was a perfect day, cool and sunny. As we walked from Faubourg Marigny to the Quarter, we remarked on how great it was to be alive on a day like this.

“We were enroute to one of our favorite Vieux Carre bars, where we ordered two special Happy Hour drinks. In New Orleans Happy Hour is from 4-9 p.m, and sometimes 4-9 a.m., too. The French doors of the ancient bar were open and the breeze and quality of light were glorious. Van Gogh and Gauguin would have loved it here, but they would have been drinking absinthe together and fighting.

“We watched the parade of friends and tourists on Bourbon Street savoring the moment. I turned to Gene and said, ‘This is the way I hope heaven will be, an eternal French Quarter on a day like this!’

“Gene laughed and replied, ‘Heaven!...You will most likely end up in hell!’ Not amused, I asked, ‘And what will hell be like?’

“Gene smiled and replied, ‘Metairie!!!!’ "

* * *

The cold snapped and sent us back to sunshine and levee days. Then nights turned freezing, and we slept nervously, like on hurricane watch. We got up repeatedly to make sure water taps were still running, and the heater was not melting ancient paint clinging to the walls of Squalor Heights.

Squalor Heights is an 1860 domicile, without insulation or central heat, and with water pipes that nakedly shiver-up the weather side of the wall. I do have gaslights, though, and dormers that rattle in the wind, and one fuming Franklin stove.

This is a dangerous time in New Orleans. One set of holidays has just ended and we are up to our necks in yet another even bigger – Carnival! Then here comes Winter bounding off the last plane from the North. All over town, firemen stand watch as candles and gas heaters dumbfound a citizenry exhausted from sanctity and sin.

It gives pause to recall that last year at this time we were entering Carnival’s finale days, with no recovery time from the lesser holidays (poor Valentine’s Day hardly got a nod). Thank God Easter is late this year, and this year’s Carnival Season is well underway with weeks yet to go before Mardi Gras.

Laissez les bons temps rouler? Oui! But watch out for 2005!