New Orleans

I visited NO 11 1/2 years ago. it was remarkable and one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen. the old architecture and balconies with plants and flowers; the flaming fountain at Pat O'Brien's; the wisteria in the spring, blooming, hanging like grapes, perfuming the air; the parades and free flowing alcohol, particularly the famous Hurricane cocktail; jazz on every corner, on the street; drag queens and platters of crawdad ready for boiling; the dancing in the streets and Mardi Gras beads; and on and on. the people.
I feel helpless as I watch what is happening there now. maybe I'm watching it too much, but I feel like if I stop watching, I'll lose sight of this reality and horrible tragedy that is getting worse by the hour, and every long lasting desperate day. it's been 5 days now. why isn't there more help for those people? I am helpless to do anything except throw money at the situation. my heart grows heavier and I feel guilty for having my own good time and looking forward to Labor Day weekend. but I will pray. I've been praying everyday that these people will receive the help and rescue they need. I don't want to get political about it yet, but I definitely have my opinions and am drawing more conclusions as I learn certain things. but the city is gone. New Orleans is gone and will never ever be the same.

City of New Orleans - lyrics by Steve Goodman Riding

Riding on the city of New Orleans
Illinios central, monday morning rail
15 cars and 15 restless riders
3 conductors and 25 sacks of mail
All along a southbound odyssey
The train pulls out of kankakee
Rolls along past houses, farms and fields
Passing trains that have no name
Freight yards full of old black men
The graveyards of the rusted automobiles

Singing good morning america, how are you?
Saying, don’t you know me I’m your native son?
I’m the train they call the city of New Orleans
I’ll be gone 500 miles when the day is done

Dealing cards with the old men in the club car
Penny a point, ain’t no one keeping score
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels a rumbling ’neath the floor
And the sons of pullman porters
And the sons of engineers
Ride their fathers’ magic carpet made of steel
And mothers with their babes asleep
Rockin’ to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel

Singing good morning america, how are you?
Saying don’t you know me, I’m your native son?
I’m the train they call the city of New Orleans
I’ll be gone 500 miles when the day is done

Nighttime on the city of New Orleans
Changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee
Halfway home and we’ll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness rolling down to the sea
But all the towns and people seem
To fade into a bad dream
And the steel rails still ain’t heard the news
The conductor sings his song again
The passengers will please refrain
This train has got the disappearing railroad blues

Singing good morning america, how are you?
Saying don’t you know me, I’m your native son?
I’m the train they call the city of New Orleans
I’ll be gone 500 miles when the day is done

Poor Places - Wilco

It's my father's voice dreaming of
Sailors sailing off in the morning
for the air-conditioned room
sat the top of the stairs
His jaw's been broken
his bandage is wrapped too tight
his fangs have been pulled
and I really want to see you tonight

There's Bourbon on the breath
of the singer you love so much
He takes all his words from the books
that you don't read anyway
His jaw's been broken
his bandage is wrapped too tight
My fangs have been pulled
and I really want to see you tonight

Someone ties a bowin my backyard to show me love
My voice is climbing walls
smoking and I want love
My jaw's been broken
My heart is wrapped in ice
My fangs have been pulled
and I really want to see you tonight

And it makes no difference to me
how they cried all over overseas
It's hot in the poor places tonight
I'm not going outside

They cried all over overseas
It makes no difference to me
It's hot in the poor places tonight
I'm not going outside