Owlspotting

I’ll stay away from blogging about hurricane relief and the storm aftermath politics, but I can’t ignore the tributes and cvasi-obituaries being written about New Orleans. A few days ago, CJR Daily took a swipe at those who’ve began mourning the loss of the town while evacuations were still taking place.

The Sunday papers carry an even heavier load of tributes; the NY Times even lays out 22 reasons to miss New Orleans (as Louis Armstrong sang).

I’ve visited New Orleans last year for a week — and joked () that it was the most Romanian of American cities. Whatever I saw last June, it was hardly more than a shallow glance at a city only the multi-generational Orlenians really understood.

I can’t help being sad at seeing a city — any city — fall. But it’s even sadder when the city falling is one whose streets I walked while thinking about John Kennedy Toole and The Confederacy of Dunces New Orleans pulled him into.

In the French Quarter

St. Louis Cemetary No. 1

At the foot of Bourbon Street