Rain, rain, go away

There is little I can say to describe my feelings about the catastrophe that is Hurricane Katrina. It is overwhelming. I send out best wishes and prayers for each and every person affected by the storm. The devastation in New Orleans is particularly striking to me because I was just there two months ago and vividly remember the sights and sounds of the city. I want to take a moment to remember the performers I saw in New Orleans back in June. It was my first real visit to the city (I had stayed one night for work back in April 2004), and I soaked up as much New Orleans jazz as I could. One night I debated having dinner at a pricy restaurant (Arnaud's Jazz Bistro) that featured a jazz trio; I finally decided, well, how often do I get to New Orleans? and had dinner there in spite of having to wait 30 minutes by myself for a table. It was worth it. That restaurant, on Bourbon Street, is likely flooded right now. One evening, I got to cruise along the Mississipi on the steamboat Natchez. On it there was a 7-8 piece Dixieland jazz band, the "Dukes of Dixieland," that played exceptionally. At the end of the night, I got a chance to tell one of the musicians how much I enjoyed the performance. He was touched and said that he had noticed me; it seems I stood out as one of the few people on the boat who actually listened to their music. Hopefully the Natchez survived the storm; it is a piece of living history. Wandering up and down Bourbon Street in search of music, I listened in on half a dozen performances. I remember thinking that New Orleans must have the best street musicians in the world. I stopped for a while in Fritzel's European Jazz Pub, a study in incongruity with its German beer hall decor and Dixieland jazz music. I saw another trio, memorable not only for their great performance but also because all three appeared to be in their twenties. It was good to see some younger blood carrying on the tradition. I also poked my head in Preservation Hall, where I heard a rendition of Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World." The irony of that memory brings tears to my eyes:

I see skies of blue and clouds of white The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

I hope that the city survives, rebuilds, and regains its vitality. And I wish I'd gotten a beignet while I was there. If I ever do, the sweetness will be tinged with sorrow. If you've ever had the pleasure of listening to a musician in New Orleans, please consider donating to the Preservation Hall Hurricane Relief Fund. 100% of the money raised goes to support New Orleans musicians.