I am New Orleans…
I am the streetcar – NOT the trolley – that rolls down that grand old avenue.
You know, the one called St. Charles - the avenue that is home to everything from grand old mansions to dingy little hole-in-the-wall shops.
I am New Orleans…
I am the child who knew how to pronounce Tchoupitoulas before I could read.
I am the girl who stands in the same “family spot” on the “neutral ground” – NOT the median – every year to watch the royalty of Mardi Gras parade by to the light of second-lining flambeau carriers.
I am the young woman who knows how to respond when someone asks
“How’s ya Mama and ‘em?”
I am New Orleans…
I am Catholic schools - all girls and all boys - separate but still somehow connected.
I am New Orleans…
I am snowballs – NOT snow cones – on a hot summer day.
I am po-boys – DRESSED – from the corner store.
I am fried shrimp, boiled shrimp, stuffed shrimp, shrimp etouffee.
I am crawfish – NOT crayfish – wrapped in newspaper and ready to eat.
I am New Orleans…
I am the French Quarter’s beautiful mix of people and places.
I am Café DuMonde, Café Au Lait, and Café Maspero.
I am beignets – NOT doughnuts – served with hot chocolate at a table that has not been cleared.
I am New Orleans…
I am Jazz Fest – music, food, and culture – rain or shine.
I am New Orleans…
I am second line parades and brass bands that roll through the streets to celebrate life and death.
I am a Who Dat – a Saints fan - and a proud member of the “Who Dat Nation.”
I am New Orleans…
I am a witness to crime and pain; a victim of broken levees and flood waters.
I am New Orleans…
I am a dreamer, a rebuilder, a SURVIVOR.
I am New Orleans…
I am a product of its variety and its diversity!
I am this great city.
It has shaped me and made me who I am.
I am New Orleans…
The waters of the Mighty Mississippi flow through my veins.
The sounds Jazz and Blues are my lullabies.
I am New Orleans.
Nia, age 16