I Can't Believe It-I Am 40 And I Got Carted...

Catchy huh...Here is the deal. I love the people here in New Orleans. I love the place, the atmosphere, the energy, the food, and again the people. These are the same people who I share the roads with though-the one's on the road I ranted about in my last blog. They are also the same people who I shop with at all the great stores here. Something happens, though, when they get out of their Road Warrior mode, and out of their shopping mode when they leave the store. It's a state of mind they enter before going back into Road Warrior mode. I just don't have a name for it, so I am calling the act of it "carting".

So what am I talking about? I am talking about getting carted. You know, back in Dallas or wherever-where you go to the store you occasionally see the renegade cart rolling to a helpless empty car. You see some carts with no home (usually at Wal Mart) because the cart corrals are full. And yes, on occasion you see that "busy" person who had time to shop at the store but has no time to take the cart they chose to borrow back where it belongs or to its proper return corral. But here its totally different. Everyone, and I mean everyone (except us) leaves their cart right by their parking spot. Some people nudge their cart up against the car beside them. Others do the semi right thing and prop the cart on the small, decorative grassy/tree spot so it won't roll away. Others just unload it and give it a little push towards an empty area of the parking lot. The cart corrals sit empty. No one uses them. Carts are all over the place. When you roll into your favorite store you have to park far away because carts occupy most open parking spaces. They do because no one here seems to have time to roll them where they belong.

Today, as we left Rouse's (its like Kroger meets Tom Thumb in Dallas but much better), we started to load the car. Opposite of our car was a woman doing the same thing. She unloaded her cart and then pushed it an inch away from our car and loaded herself up in her over sized SUV to head out. My wife and I saw this and my wife went towards her and got the cart. I chose to glare at her. The woman just stared at my wife, then pulled out. I urged my wife to put the cart behind the woman's car but to no avail. We got carted.

We have started a 2 person crusade here. Wherever we go, we park and grab a couple of carts each and roll them in. We are hoping that people will see this and hopefully understand the concept-similar to when we are children and taught to pick up after ourselves. We are trying to break the carting habit through example. Sadly,I don't see this crusade going far but we refuse to give in to the masses. The carting problem is too widespread and I think everyone is just used to doing the carting thing.

We will do what we can though, one cart at a time...

"The Big Easy" But It's Not So Easy

It has been a while, I know. There is just a lot going on with settling in as the days (and summer) flies by. I wanted to continue the back story but thought I would do that in between the current entries so there aren't so many time gaps.


Something strikes you here in New Orleans when you start to settle in. The pace here is slooooowwwwww EXCEPT on the road. The roads are rough-figuratively and literally. As you swerve to avoid potholes, bumps, and debris, you also play the New Orleans version of the Road Warrior. Part of that comes from the layout where U-turns are a way of life here. They are not the U-turns we would use in Dallas if we missed our turn. No, these are lanes all over the place to help you navigate. Cars come from all directions, Fast and Furious. Don't even try to wave in hopes someone will let you in or cross-not going to happen. You have to learn the way of the drivers in Plano, Frisco, and North Dallas and apply those skills here if you want to survive on the roads. Quite simply, barrel along 10-15 miles per hour over the speed limit while you talk on the phone and use your large vehicle's auto-pilot. Sorry to anyone in those locales-yes, its a (small) exaggeration, or is it? It's not that the drivers here are rude-its more that they are pre-occupied and with what I have no clue. I do have a theory, though.


My theory is that everyone is in such a rush on the road because once they get where they are going, the pace comes to almost a dead halt. If you are arriving to your favorite restaurant, you will be eating a long, leisurely meal as you talk with friends/family/strangers about life and the next meal. If you are going shopping, you will be taking a while as there are lines (and I mean long lines) at almost every store. I'll save the Wal Mart story for another time but just picture Friday night at 10 with EVERY checkout open and every checkout with 10-20 people deep waiting, waiting, waiting... All essential things have lines and waits that dwarf anything I can recall in Dallas. Doctor offices, the DMV (and, oh, I dread that trip), anywhere you have an appointment, appearance, or interview-there will be a wait and likely a long one. Thankfully, time stands still in the French Quarter though-it's true-look it up.

So far, the people here are amazing. The atmosphere, food, all of it is amazing except when you are on the road. When its time to head out to your destination, put on your protective gear, load up your armored vehicle, fire up the Internet ready phone, turn on your headlights so you can maybe be seen, and just start honking the horn (EVERYONE HERE LOVES THEIR CAR HORNS!!!!). It will not be an easy breezy Sunday drive but the stress will flow away when you finally get where you are going in The Big Easy.

Homecoming

I thought I should put a rift in the timeline and write that we made it. It has been a long journey-months and maybe in my case years in the making. The past weeks have been challenging as well, but we are here and we are home.

As school let out the "to do" list seemed to grow longer and longer. On top of all of the things to do were the emotions racing through us both. Anticipation, anxiety, excitement, frustration, and the list goes on. It seems like no matter how much planning you do, the wheels can fly off at any time to derail the planning.

For us, the U-Haul experience was tough but I think God was saying don't take on more than you can handle as in pulling the truck behind the truck. Hard for me to accept because I try to handle it all and then some. We had a couple of late nights of last minute packing and then at 5AM on Wednesday, I got in the truck and headed out with my travel companion, Darcy P. Doolittle. Nancy came a bit later with Piper as she got things wrapped up at our former home.

The drive was actually pretty nice and it seemed to go so quick. U-Hauls suck gas to the tune of maybe 4-5 miles to the gallon so lots of expensive fill-ups, but other than that the ride was pleasant. My portable XM radio with Deep Tracks and just some down time to think were just what I needed.

What was really wonderful is within minutes of pulling in, the neighbors came out to greet us. It was a nice welcome. Nancy arrived not too long after me, and after visiting with her dad some, we began to get our essentials off the truck. Neighbors helped us without us even asking.

There is warmth here and I am not saying there isn't in Dallas. Its just different. The past couple of days of unpacking have been stressful on the body and the mind (some), but we are getting it all together. Last night I finally slept and it was like a who's who of aquaintances I saw in my dreams offering strength, energy, and support. 3 (of you) spoke to me to remind me of my purpose and path and I am appreciative to those 3, along with the rest who I saw. I know that all I need to do is look into Nancy's father's eyes and see his smile to know we are home.

Sucking Heads, Those Things Raw, and Eating Cute Turtles

As our relationship grew stronger, Nancy and I were making more and more trips to New Orleans. It was nice to be able to go visit her family, friends, and just see all those New Orleans things. There is always something new to do, see, or eat in New Orleans. This is about the latter.

To this day, I am a pretty picky eater except when I go to New Orleans. For some reason, the atmosphere there encourages me to break out of my shell, and wow, there are all kinds of things there with shells.

My first visit to New Orleans was when I was introduced to the crawfish. It was such a wild concept to see this crawfish that had been crawling around not to much earlier now looking at me ready to tear into him so I could get the meat. What a savage concept. So I slowly learned the art of getting the meat out of the crawfish. I am still far from being a master, though. Eating crawfish is something where my meticulous way of doing things does not work. As my girlfriend and her aunt tore through 5 crawfish to my 1, I noticed something peculiar. Her aunt was taking the crawfish heads and sucking them. I looked puzzled I am sure-so I had to ask. “It’s the best part” was her aunt’s reply. I looked at both of them and took a shot (of crawfish head fluid) and it was not too bad. I did another, and another, and it got easier and easier. How cool was this?

On that same trip I was introduced to the raw oyster. This was a little less exciting. We had ventured to the Riverwalk and went atop of Jax Brewery. There was a raw oyster bar there. I enjoyed the beer more than the raw oysters. I just had this innate fear of eating something raw. Of course I did it wrong with the first one. I just bit into it-no cracker, no red sauce or lemon. Texture wise this was a real nightmare. The taste was, interesting. Then I was taught how to do it. You adorn them with sauce and lemon (cracker optional) and swallow. I tried a few but never got into them until recently.

As Nancy and I have made our trips there, I have tried to explore food further. She showed me the greatness of the Acme Oyster Bar. The raw oysters are great, but even better-oyster soup. I have enjoyed several crawfish boils. The neat thing about them is the people there with you-be it family or friends, who make that kind of eating more special. I can even look past my OC issues of being messy and just enjoy the crawfish boil for all it is-an event and a gathering and not just a meal.

Then there are the turtles. I remember our first trip to Mandena’s. We were going to enjoy some po’ boys at a place I had never tried. They also had something called turtle soup. When I first heard that, I thought “yeah right” with visions of a little turtle floating in some kind of “gumboesque” substance. Sure enough it was on the menu and I was going to have no part of it. Nancy ordered it, as did her dad and step-mom. Hmm, it had no floating turtle when it arrived. It was just bowl of copper-brownish soup. It came with buttered French bread and then the waiter poured sherry into the soup. How interesting. Nancy asked me to take the first taste. I was nervous and then I tried it and it was an instant love. Next, I dipped the bread into it-even better! Since then, Mandina’s and the turtle soup has been a regular part of our New Orleans jaunts.

So from crawfish, to oysters, to turtles, along with shrimp (I have even tried rabbit), New Orleans offers the taste buds all kinds of new sensations. I know there is so much more food to discover and that will be a really nice perk of moving to New Orleans. Now where did we put that frozen gator meat?

I Found Her (From New Orleans) and Some Places Too

It is funny how we find our better half. Nancy and I found one another where we worked. I got the job through my sister who knew about the job through her boyfriend who…you know the whole 6 degrees of Kevin Bacon(ker) separation thing. Nancy and I spent time getting to know each other as most couples do. We talked at happy hours, went out here and there, dated more and more, and many years later here we are. I don’t use a specific number because we dated a few years, had a long engagement, and have been married almost 11 years.

Nancy is from New Orleans and that intrigued me at the time we met and began to talk more. More and more, I was running into New Orleans “familiars”. Eventually, after Nancy and I dated some, I got to go back to New Orleans. This was a trip to meet her family.

This trip was an important trip for me-meeting Nancy’s family plus after many years I was going back to the place that drew me. It was a wonderful trip. I loved meeting Nancy’s family and for the first time I got to see New Orleans for what it isn’t-the party city. It was on this trip that I got my first introduction to New “Orleanean” hospitality. I had no idea that hospitality was all over. I got to meet one wonderful person after another-from Nancy’s family, to her friends, to just people who say hi to you at the store or on the street. They say "hi" because they can and they like to. In Dallas, if you do that, you will likely get a cold (rude) stare and possibly some kind of obscene gesture or word thrown back at you-but not there and not back then.

In addition to the amazing family, friends, and people, Nancy introduced me to the places-the special places. Sure Pat O’s and Café Du Monde are great but there is so much more to discover. Mandinas, Port of Call, Ye Ole College Inn (pre-K), The Galley, Liuzza’s, Parasols, and the list goes on forever. To this day, there is still so much more to discover there. It’s just wild-the seafood (of course), the burgers, specialty sandwiches (po boys), even the pizza, are all just better there. I have been told it is because of the water, but it's likely because of the people behind it all.

Then there are the stores and shops. The French Quarter speaks for itself, as does Magazine Street, but you want a shopping trip?-Go to Dorignac’s. Here you can see older women in frocks and slippers smoking a cigarette while they peruse the aisles purchasing anything from turtle meat, merlaton, to hard liquor (yes they sell hard liquor in grocery stores), to oyster soup, to Doberge cakes. Try Gambino’s for baked goods, Gordon’s for all kinds of home items, Rue De La Course for a coffee experience (a plug there for you Jerry). Again, the list can and does go on forever.

This is not only about my wife and New Orleans places. This is about family and friends-the special people who make up our lives. New Orleans is full good people just as Dallas is. It is also full of family-run establishments and that is truly unique in this nation of cookie cutter chain businesses. Families put their hearts, their talents, and their roots into their businesses. Add that to the New Orleans energy and that is just the beginning of what makes New Orleans, well, New Orleans. That trip taught me a whole lot more about what New Orleans is truly about.

The First Time

I remember my first trip to New Orleans. I went with my girlfriend at the time. We were just out of high school. The plan was to go so she could visit with her aunt. I picked her up and we left a little late. It was a long drive-a real long drive. I think back then we had to take Highway 1 but since then the trip has gotten a lot easier. I remember sunset, listening to tapes of The Beatles, Queen, Bad Company, and Bowie, talking, the piney woods, long bridges, water (which is something you don’t see much in Dallas) and then darkness/water the rest of the way. This time and place seemed so different-swampy towards the end of the drive, so mysterious, so exciting. This was going to be special.

I had heard about New Orleans-the stories from Mr. Roland and learned a little more on my own. Now I was including the “party” aspect of New Orleans. I had heard stories of being able to drink under the age of 21. I grew a beard just in case, though, since I was 19 or maybe 20. This was going to be about Pat O’Briens, Café Du Monde, more beverages, food, and exploring. After all-that’s what’s in New Orleans, right? And by the way, the drinking age there had changed to 21.


We arrived late and tired. I was a bit nervous-totally out of my element in a place I had never seen. I was excited to get out but we needed sleep. Our tours would have to begin the next day. We got up at different times, visited with my girlfriend’s aunt, finished our breakfast, got dressed, and prepared for our first adventure. Right across the bridge, 17 miles away, was New Orleans.

There was such energy there. Yes, we did the Pat O’Brien’s thing, the Café Du Monde beignets, and walked around the quarter. We saw different street vendors. There was art, performance art, even the “Bubble Man”. He performed bubble art and sold his bubble toys. This may or may not be the same guy, but a few years later I got my first apartment. My neighbor downstairs just came from New Orleans. He sold bubble toys. What are the odds it was the same guy? I recall the many different types of bars-even one with legs that popped in and out of the wall. We visited a couple of those clubs, even saw a woman dance with a python then the python danced with her-very wild.

It was a different scene in New Orleans-a party scene unlike any I had ever seen before. I also knew there was more to it than just partying and drinking. This was a special place with a different culture. I ran across the Joey the Bubble Man who I would later see again as a neighbor. I may have even heard a female singer coming from one of the clubs-a singer who would years later become my wife. I sucked the heads of crawfish and ate raw oysters. Back then, I wasn’t quite ready for turtle soup though. They eat turtles there? This was my first time-in the place known as the Crescent City-the city of New Orleans and the city that celebrates life. I had to make it back someday.

Mr. W.O. Rowland

Back in the day when I was in 6th grade I made money by throwing newspapers. I threw the Dallas Times Herald. It was an afternoon paper so each day after school I would run home and get to work. I would have to un-bundle the papers, stack the sections, and then either wrap them with a rubber band or put them in a plastic bag. Once I was done with this, off I would go delivering them on my old ten speed bike.

I started off with 1 route of approximately 60 papers then another became available. This let me jump to delivering 150 papers each weekday and 175 on weekends in a 5 square mile area. The cool part of this was getting to know the customers. Some were out in their yards waiting for delivery. Select others would offer conversation when I porched their papers. They were usually older people who needed such help and I was glad to oblige. Finally there was the interaction from collecting. Yes, every month I would have to go to 90% of the customers and collect the $6.25 monthly charge. It was challenging but the pay off was tips and in the case of W.O. Roland some great conversation.

During this time, it was for the most part “safe” to go into homes. I didn’t go into many, but some people would invite me in, especially when it was cold. W.O. Roland was one of those people. He was in his 70’s, kind of a grandfatherly figure. He loved to tell stories about a place called New Orleans. His stories were of jazz music, his adventures as a musician, and other tall tales. The French Quarter sounded fascinating, as did the above ground cemeteries, Mardi Gras, crawfish, and the Mississippi river with its boats and ships. It was through him I learned there was a far away "magical" place called New Orleans.

Mr. Roland convinced me to believe a story about him as a teen wanting to get into the music scene there. He told me he hopped a train bound for New Orleans. He rode in a boxcar for days until he almost made it. I pretty much just heard “hopped a train” and thought that was so cool. At a stop outside of New Orleans, he was caught and his mom was called. She had to drive from Dallas to New Orleans and pick him up. Eventually he made it on his own as an adult and gave the scene a try.

He must have loved it to go back and spend some years there and he must have loved it to share such tales. Mr. W.O. Roland (R.I.P.) was the first person to introduce me to New Orleans through stories and it was then, unbeknownst to me, that my path was set.

Kevin's Introduction

40 years ago I was born in Dallas, TX. I have never truly left Texas for more than a few weeks so Dallas has been home. It’s a good place for the most part. Dallas is progressive, a bit hurried, scattered, modern, and it has been a great home. My family is here and we are all doing our thing. I have met many friends in Dallas who have come and gone. I met my wife here as well.

I have been married to Nancy for 10 years. She is from New Orleans and moved to Dallas 20+years ago. We have had many visits to New Orleans. These were not my first visits to New Orleans though. I went many years ago a time or two. The city always appealed to me from my first visit. As years have passed, I have read that it is common to fall in love with New Orleans because of the way it is. It is unlike any other city around.

Our path in life is taking us to New Orleans-family calls. I read in a Chris Rose book called 1 Dead in Attic that “New Orleans girls never live anywhere else and even if they do, they always come back.” It’s true. It is time for Nancy to go home and I am taking the journey by her side.

This is going to be quite a ride for me and I want to share it. I am full of all kinds of emotions-excitement, nervousness, sadness, fear, and all the things that go with making such a life change. It is easiest for me to work through this with writing and sharing. I plan to share my experiences learning the New Orleans lifestyle, my ups, downs and all in between. I hope you will take this journey with me at your leisure.