Topsy-Turvy World

Since the storm, things are a little mixed-up in the Crescent City. (Not like things were "normal" before, but still...) In this newly topsy-turvy world, certain values and expectations are turned upside-down, sometimes in a good way, sometimes not.

One obvious example would be great big piles of debris and trash. Anywhere else in this country, or even here before Katrina, giant heaps of broken stuff on the curb would be cause for concern, a sign that something is wrong. Here, it is a signal of hope, a sign that work is finally being done on a house or a building. Instead of driving by and thinking, "How awful!", New Orleanians drive by and think, "Yes! They're back! Thank God!" We greet these former eyesores the way winter-weary Yankees welcome signs of Spring. (One enterprising local candy shop actually invented a new confection of pretzel sticks, coconut shreds, raisins, and nuts drizzled over with chocolate, called "trash piles.")

Pre-K (as we say here), the antics of incompetent and/or dishonest elected officials were the stuff of jokes, the cause for world-weary amusement. Show us another awful thing done by a governor or a mayor or a legislator, and we'd shrug and give a wry smile, or even top the story with another one. Nowadays, we've been through too much to find it funny. (As Paul Simon sings, "I don't find this stuff amusing any more.") Governor Blanco is not considered a sort of folk hero as Edwin Edwards once was (apparently still is, to some people, judging by the Letters to the Editor to let the "poor man" out of prison), and we're way past finding the inane (insane?) remarks of Mayor Nagin something to laugh about. And don't even get us started with District Attorney Jordan, who seems even more mortifyingly embarrassing than even Big Jim Garrison back in the day. Every day, you hear calls for some elected official or other (sadly, too many to list here) to resign and let us get someone/anyone better to serve in their place. You never used to hear that years ago.

On the other hand, one way New Orleanians cope with all they have to cope with is a savage irony married to a graceful gallantry. Example #1: Discovering that the mayor spent close to a half million dollars on "bomb-proof" tiny trashcans that were too small to be used and thus were going to be quietly (read: secretly) disposed of, the local satirical paper "The Levee" (motto: "We don't hold anything back") announced that the police department was going to be given the cans for use as bullet-proof vests. Example #2: The Bourbon St. band that Big Man plays with was named The Levee Board before the hurricane. After the storm, they discovered there was too much negative connotation to that name, so they changed their name. To Category 5 -- which I guess had a better impact on the public. Example #3: Hand-painted sign seen inside Crabby Jack's (arguably some of the absolute best po-boys in the area) -- "Save da Parish." Gee, before The Thing, who would've supported "saving" St. Bernard Parish, except for those who lived there, who probably wouldn't be eating in Crabby Jack's anyway? Example #4: Printed sign in a yard in formerly flooded Broadmoor -- "I'm not leaving, and they can't make me." Example #5 (really, and then I'll stop, since there are too many): In any poster or T-shirt shop in the city, you can find approximately 2-3 dozen (I'm not exaggerating, for once) different Katrina-related designs of varying levels of artistry and black humor.

The fleur de lis has been on the flag of the City of New Orleans for a long time, and has been the symbol of the Saints NFL football team for several decades. Before the storm, that was about it. We never thought much about it. Now, the fleur de lis is ubiquitous, and is an unspoken and unofficial symbol of love for and commitment to New Orleans. One bumper sticker even says, "I )I( NEW ORLEANS" with a fleur de lis where in other places a heart graphic would be. Fleur de lis float from banners and flags draped on St. Charles Avenue mansions and newly-gutted brick ranchers in Lakeview; one flag notably is a take-off of the stars and stripes, with fleur de lis as stars on a field of purple, green and gold (of course). They appear on T-shirts and backpacks and are woven into silk jacquard for neckties. There's even a polo-style shirt with an embroidered fleur de lis where the polo pony used to be. Candidates for office put fleur de lis on their campaign material. Fleur de lis as decorative hooks for installing in your home and as ornaments to be hung from windows and on walls fly off the retail shelves. Giant fleur de lis painted and decorated by local artists are installed around town in public places -- my favorite is the fleur de lis which has been transformed into a portrait of Chief of Chiefs Tootie Montana. It wouldn't surprise me at all to see folks dressed as fleur de lis at Carnival -- it's become the emblem of the grit and spirit of New Orleanians, and our love for this crazy-wonderful place.