Dr. John, Sweet Home New Orleans

Ah Toups, I missed you soo much!

 

Tile findings at Bayou St. John

Thank you airbandb!

Getting rid of a storage unit is hard. It's almost like a record compilation, a thin slice of not just the last five years in NOLA but the other two before in Providence, Rhode Island. I'm finding that amongst all these items there are memories, some I didn't even remember were there.

For example, the exact smell of the now extinct Old Fashion Robotic Store in PVD., I remember, the traces that my boots left in the snow as I walked all the way there (I never had a car while I was in the US). Forgetting one cable or one small nut, meant a complete difference between gearing up or staying warmly at home.

But I persisted and kept pushing the snow away. Much like I persisted in the opposite weather in New Orleans. I have come to catch myself smiling because I recognise cracks I pass on the roads, every hole and stop, the right path I took to avoid harming my bike's tires under the incandescent sun. At the apartment I'm staying over, I find little items that have a now dear, meaning for me. A whistle hanging from a lamp, a red shoe covered with glitter, Ernie K-Doe, an alligator playing bass and the usual bead necklaces hanging from the door.

These things once were met with such skepticism. I hated the color combinations of Mardi Gras, I thought they were so tacky. Gold and yellow? What? With that tone of green and purple? Together? Today they resonate so strongly within me, like the sweet chords from a good song.

I'm happy to see other things have changed. It means I must have too. Nothing stays static. Letting go is hard but necessary. I'm shredding things apart, putting them in plastic bags, ready for disposal. I also lost my camera on the way here but I stopped beating my head over it. Who knows? As Sheryl Crow reminds us, a change would do you good.