Casa De Morrill

I think I can safely say that I spent most of every summer growing up in New Orleans. My mother grew up there and so she had a lot of family to visit who still lives/lived there. My great-aunt lived on Music St. and my grandfather lived on Neptune Ct. Then, there was the history of my family living there. My great-grandmother who was born above Arnaud’s, a restaurant in the French Quarter. My other ancestors who moved to New Orleans to be tradesmen and merchants. My family has a history there, even if it is just one more out of a million other, so I’ve always felt a connection with the city. I looked forward to spending summers and Thanksgivings down in New Orleans so that we could go visit the French Quarter and take boats down the Mississippi River. Knowing this, it’s not too much of a surprise that I still enjoy going to New Orleans.

Last weekend, after coordinating with my step-grandmother Deanie, Sean, Amy and I drove down to New Orleans for the weekend. On the way down, I was filled with a bit of anxiousness and curiosity as I hadn’t been to the city in several years. I was curious to see how the city looked after several years of being away from it, but at the same time, I was worried that I had forgotten all of the little secrets that I grew up learning about New Orleans. I didn’t know if I could find some of the book stores that were tucked away into the French Quarter only to be found by people that were really looking. I was worried that the way I remembered the city was different from how it really was. That it wouldn’t be the exciting and fascinating city I had left several years ago.

When we drove down Canal Street, in search of the theatre that we were going to see “The Princess And The Warrior” at, I began to remember bit by bit. I saw a sign for Wuhrlein’s Music and remembered my mom telling me how she used to take the bus with her sister after school down there for piano lessons. I saw the Holiday Inn with the clarinet painted down the side of the building. The St. Charles Streetcar was still there, still carrying tourists and residents into the Garden District. I remember smiling to myself and becoming comfortable once more being inside the city.

That was how the weekend went for me. As we went through more of the French Quarter and walked around/drove around more and more of the city, I remembered once more and by the end of the weekend, it was like I had never left the city. We saw all of the street performers that are always on the street tap-dancing or miming or playing jazz and the blues. I even saw the artist who had painted my portrait 13 years ago. He was still there, doing the same wonderful work that he always did. Trebere, that’s his name. Last time mom took Carlile with her, she got his portrait done by the same man. Two generations of family done by the same artist.

The Central Grocery even smelled the same. That wonderful foreign smell of olives and cheeses and meats and all the other Italian and ethnic foods they had crammed into that tiny little grocery. The Cafe du Monde was still crowded as ever as people waited for tables so that they could order little French doughnuts covered in powdered sugar. It was all there. Jackson Square with Andrew Jackson holding his hat towards one of the Pontalba apartments (there’s a whole story behind that, too). The French Market still had all of its merchants selling fruits and other foods and then the flea market with it’s usual variety of treasures and garbage.

There’s something soothing and relaxing about being in New Orleans. It’s certainly not the safety. No matter what some tourists say, it’s not the safest place in the world. You still have to keep an eye out all the time and there are just certain places that are best you don’t go to after dark. I wouldn’t say that I’m paranoid, but I am cautious and if you ask a resident of New Orleans, they’d agree with me on it, too. So, if it’s not the safety of the city, what? I think that it’s the continuity. The city is still there, still the same that it’s always been.

I can always count on finding certain things whenever I go there and it helps me remember that no matter how some things change in life, others are constant. I can go down there and I’ll always be able to order a muffelatta at the Central Grocery and an order of beignets at the Cafe Du Monde and get the best bananas foster at Brennan’s. Andrew Jackson will always be sitting in the middle of Jackson Square and there will always be random statues of people and pidgeons at the different fountains behind the French Market. I can go away for several years, come back, and they will still be there. My old friends that I grew up with will always be there for me to visit time and time again.