Mardi Gras

The missing posters all over John’s Pizza were like a barometer of the city’s pain. They were left untouched for what seemed an eternity. Further west at St. Vincent’s Hospital, there was another wall, asking, have you seen this person, who left for work one fine September morning and never returned? Hundreds of them, from family, a spouse, a friend, all asking the same answered, but not settled question. No one took them down, the candles just finally stopped getting re-lit.

It’s with a mixture of emotions that I read about Mardi Gras in New Orleans today. As a New Yorker, it seems right that New Orleanians do whatever works, whatever helps to heal and to rebuild their devastated city. It seems right that people from all over the country go there to spend some time and money with them, to get a little something jump-started in their sad economy.

I know, however, that whatever kind of party they have down there, it’ll be a lot longer, a lot harder than we’ll ever know, for New Orleanians. Cheers. Here’s to you and to those who can’t be there with you. And those you leave behind. And to your beautiful city. Here’s another candle, another set of beads.