Heart and Soul in New Orleans
Thomas Lorentzen and Jeanne Marie in New Orleans.
Normally, I write my columns from my home in Castro Valley. This one, however, is being composed from New Orleans. For the last few days, I have resided in an aged building that is now a hotel. Her name is Place d’ Armes. It is in the heart of the most historic part of the city – the French Quarter. The rooms are nice. The courtyard is courtly. A block away is the Cathedral-Basilica of St. Louis – the oldest Catholic cathedral in continued use in the U.S. Outside the hotel, a lively jazz performance is taking place. It is only noon. A block away is the Voodoo Bar, which I visited last night. Not only are bars and restaurants ubiquitous, so are art galleries. It is an interesting neighborhood in an interesting city. Hence, this essay.
As I write, I reflect. There is a broad menu of subjects available. Among them are cuisine and costume, providence and principle, music and meaning, race and reason, and purpose and progress. What I settle upon is an integration of all of them. It was born while imbibing chicory coffee yesterday at the famed Café Du Monde. Although it was early morning, an ad hoc jazz team was performing. I noted an elderly woman sitting in her wheelchair/walker. She was tapping her feet to the music. As she tapped, she sang. The musicians greeted her. She was obviously a regular. I snapped a photo of her on my phone. I found her fascinating.
After completing my coffee and tipping the musicians, I started to walk back to my hotel. As I did, I spotted the woman standing nearby. Her face was an etching of time and history. We smiled at each other. With that, I took the liberty to introduce myself. Her name is Jeanne Marie. She told me her age. She is 85 years old. She is a native of Algiers – a neighborhood in New Orleans that is on the other side of the Mississippi River. She expanded our conversation - telling me the story of her life. Her story flowed to her parents and grandparents. She weaved on with thoughtful reflections and views. I listened and learned. She is broad in experience, and rich with wisdom. As the temperature and humidity increased, they became inimical and minatory. I suggested we move to the shade. We did. I asked if I could take a photo of us. She smiled and said “Gladly.” Before ending our visit, I asked if a hug would be appropriate. Again, she said “Gladly.” We hugged, and then departed for cooler destinations.
Although we will never meet again, our visit was significant. She shared her life and wisdom with me. Despite the heat and humidity, it was a refreshing experience. It was, from my perspective, a spiritual visit. It happened one morning with a special person in the French Quarter of New Orleans. From this point forward, I will never think of New Orleans without thinking of Jeanne Marie. She is from the heart and soul of this famed city.