The Importance of New Orleans
My heart has been heavy ever since I saw a category 5 hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico, with meteorologists predicting a possible strike near New Orleans. Even when the hurricane was far from land, I knew a terrible disaster of unimaginable proportions was about to occur. Feeling completely helpless to stop it, tears welled up in my eyes, and I did all I could do at the time - I said a prayer. Since then, I've said many prayers for those affected, and cried at night while watching the horrible scenes of human and animal suffering. I can remember a similar emotion when 9/11 happened, but this time it's worse because I'm so deeply connected to one of the focal points of this tragedy - Louisiana, and more specifically, New Orleans.
Louisiana is where I was born and raised. My mom's mother, Grandma, spoke Cajun French as her native tongue. I can remember helping her make pralines in her small kitchen. The real old-fashioned kind of pralines that weren't grainy, and melted in your mouth like butter. Like many Louisiana folks, she was a devout Catholic, and helped instill in me a sense of a higher power. I can remember listening intently to her saying the Hail Mary prayer as she fingered her treasured rosary beads, and thinking she had a direct line to God. My sweet Grandma, who I miss and loved dearly as a young child, also had a brush with death due to a hurricane. She barely made it out of Cameron parish before it was slammed by hurricane Audrey on June 27, 1957. I wasn't born yet, but I remember her telling the story of how she crossed a bridge in the blinding rain shortly before the bridge was washed away.
I went to medical school in New Orleans, trained in Charity hospital, practiced in Algiers, and lived in New Orleans for a total of seven years. I have vivid memories of a city with a unique culture, beautiful Greek Revival homes, French and Spanish colonial plantation homes, rows of shotgun houses, intricately woven cast iron fences, and beautiful ancient cemeteries. Who would think a cemetery could be so beautiful? Those old-world street cars were fun to ride and smelled of electricity from the electrified cable that ran above them. I can remember finding it difficult to study for a medical school test while I sat listening to the frivolity of Mardi Gras from my rental a half block off St. Charles Avenue. The air seemed like it was on fire from all of the energy and excitement.
I was blessed to have trained in Big Charity, the oldest, continually operating (until now) hospital in the country. It served one of the nation's largest metropolitan concentrations of the poor and uninsured. Its old Art Deco-era building is a huge labyrinth of halls and rooms, with archaic surgical theaters like the kind you see in books about early medicine. Despite its antiquity, Big Charity served as one of the few major trauma centers in Louisiana and provided top-quality care for the indigent and acutely ill. Due to a patient population that often did not seek treatment until diseases were well advanced, I saw conditions many modern medical students and doctors will rarely see. It was an ideal place to learn about all aspects of medicine.
With its high rate of poverty and masses of uninsured, the Big Easy was not the easiest place to live. Crime rates have always been relatively high for a city its size. Police corruption in the city once dominated the news, but that did improve significantly with new leadership. The city has always been a gumbo of the very rich and the very poor. You could walk down the street in the Uptown area and Garden District, passing gorgeous old mansions; and a few blocks later, start to feel uneasy as the neighborhood deteriorated into government run housing projects. You learned to be careful about where you went and when. But that is New Orleans - people of different cultures and vastly different incomes who, for the most part, lived peacefully together.
Other than my family, the one thing I miss most about Louisiana and New Orleans is the food. Some of the tastiest dishes you'll ever eat. Recipes passed down through many generations, but with little change in the basic flavors and textures. The last time I went home, I flew into New Orleans, and drove with my favorite cousin and her husband on I-10 through southern Louisiana to my birth place, Sulphur. It seemed like every time we stopped on the way there and back, it was to eat at a place that served traditional Louisiana cooking. And every time, it tasted so good. It really made me appreciate my real home, Louisiana.
The last few days, my mind has retraced so many places I used to go in New Orleans, trying to replace the sickening sights on television with those good memories of the way it used to look - the way it should be. I've called or emailed to check on family and friends who were able to get out of New Orleans before all hell broke loose. I thank God they are all safe. Now I pray that God gives them inner peace and strength as they restructure their lives and careers. Most of all, I pray that God gives them and all those affected by this terrible tragedy, hope for the future.
By Keith R. Holden, M.D.
Please donate to a hurricane relief fund if you haven't already.
I didn't even touch on the significant economic importance that New Orleans holds for our nation. Please click on the following link for one of the best articles I've read about that issue. Thanks to Chris for emailing this article to me.
New Orleans: A Geopolitical Prize By George Friedman