Mark Twain once said that people in South date things “befaw the waw” or “aftuh the waw,” referring, of course, to the Civil War. In New Orleans things are now dated “Pre-K” and “Post-K.” Like the Civil War, Hurricane Katrina suddenly became a milestone in time by which other events are dated. Post-K New Orleans is slowly coming along.

The city faces many major obstacles, both internal and external. One of its largest stumbling blocks is a deeply ingrained mindset of entitlement and a culture of dependency. It’s probably not very PC to say it, as sometimes the truth hurts, but for many black citizens, it dates back to the region’s plantation culture during which the white master took care of everything. This was further reinforced for blacks, and established for other southeast Louisiana residents, during the Huey Long administration, which promised “a chicken in every pot.”

Like it or not, many New Orleans-area residents not only expect “someone else” to fix things for them, but believe they are entitled to it. They’re therefore perfectly willing to overlook the accompanying culture of political chicanery as long as it produced tangible results, i.e. a new bridge, street repairs, pavement improvements, increased homestead exemptions, etc. When I lived there Pre-K, this even extended to basic things like litter. “Someone else” was always there to pick up locals’ waste.

(One of the hair cutters at the place I go here in Crestview volunteered at her church to help hurricane refugees. One New Orleans lady tossed her food wrapper on the floor. “You’ll have to pick that up,” Terri told her. “Tha’s OK,” the lady said. “Dey got people here who do dat.” “I’m one of those people, and you’ll have to pick that up.” The lady was shocked. She never had to do that before.)

Sadly, many, many New Orleanians are still sitting on their duffs waiting for “somebody else,” in this case “the government,” be it state, local or federal, to hand them the piles of money to which they feel entitled. But in other cases, such as in the devasted Lower Ninth Ward, some folks are just rolling up their sleeves and doing their own recovery, and pitching in to help their neighbors do theirs.

But even this rare do-it-yourself attitude is posing problems, because some parts of the city as well as most of the outlying areas were built where urban development just never should’ve taken place. In my previous entry, I mentioned the lovely, shady cypress tree in my old backyard. That means the lake was just about where my former home now stands. And I lived almost a mile inland from the lake. That swath a mile wide used to be wetlands that helped protect the homes wisely built on higher ground farther inland. But not any more.

I visited my buddy Paul Nelson while we were in New Orleans last weekend. Paul’s a realtor (give him a call!) who lives in a delightful c.1840 Creole cottage. He had friends who didn’t bother buying flood insurance because the levee was only two blocks from their home. Paul snorted and said, “Don’t you think it means there’s the potential for flooding if a levee is needed so close to your house?” As he wisely ppointed out, a levee is “flood protection, not flood prevention.” And we all saw what happened when some of those levees just weren’t up to the task.

And so places that should never been built upon, including the luxurious Lakeview neighborhood, are still a wasteland.

(Paul also told a new joke making the rounds: Why did God send Hurricane Rita to New Orleans right on the tail of Hurricane Katrina? Sometimes you just gotta flush twice.)

But fortunately for visitors (I should’ve mentioned this earlier in this post. I’ve probably lost most of you by now) most of those parts that SHOULD have been built on are doing fine, and those neighborhoods include some of New Orleans oldest and most charming visitors’ destinations. The French Quarter, the Riverbend area, Faubourg Marigny, the Irish Channel and the Garden District were all sensibly built on high ground. (”High ground,” of course, being a relative term in New Orleans. That means they might even be at sea level!)

And it’s those areas that recovered first and today bustle with restaurants, shops and night life. We got to visit some favorite old stomping grounds, including two of New Orleans many, many live theatre venues, and ate at favorite restaurants once again.

We saw Theatre Marigny new show, a musical revue, which was a scream, and rivaled the New York production in quality. Dinner was at La Peniché, a neighborhood eatery in The Marigny, where good, affordable down-to-earth food is served in a relaxing, pleasant atmosphere. The restaurant’s walls are paneled in bargeboard, giving you an idea of its old charm.

(Bargeboard was rough-hewn wood reclaimed from flatboats that were loaded with goods upriver, floated down to New Orleans in the pre-steamboat days, where everything, including the flatboat, was sold. The merchants would then return home to points north via the Natchez trace.)

One of my most favorite restaurants is the Sun Ray Grill. I like going to their Warehouse District location, though the same excellent, eclectic cuisine is available in their original home on Metairie Road in Old Metairie (a district which has also bounced back from the storm with vigor). Sometimes I just get the Penthouse Nachos (with duck) as my dinner, which I did this time. Afterwards it was off to my favorite New Orleans nightspot.

Le Chat Noir is one of the coolest places to go for evening entertainment in the whole city, and, surprisingly, many visitors are astounded to discover it’s not in the French Quarter. (Many guests seem to think New Orleans begins and ends at the Quarter.) Le Chat is a true cabaret, with the elegant Bar Noir out front. My friend Troy, with whom we stayed, swears by their martinis. In the equally elegant showroom, a variety of cabaret performances and live theatricals are presented. This past weekend it was a delightful cabaret performance. I was bummed, however, because in the audience was the lovely Amy Alvarez, whose lilting voice has won her many an accolade, including a recent Big Easy award (the Tony’s of New Orleans) for her turn as Nellie in “South Pacific.” She told me that starting next week she will return to the Le Chat stage with her Rodgers & Hammerstein show, and I’ll miss it. Drat!

We enjoyed a late breakfast/early lunch at Camellia Grill, a long-time landmark in the Riverbend district, which has at last reopened after sustaining some water damage. As usual, lines were down to the sidewalk as we approached, but the wait is not long and it was fun meeting other visitors who were glad for the opportunity to be back in the queue. Our waiter, Phillip, served with aplomb as we once more settled ourselves at the counter. I had the Manhattan Omelette, a meal in itself, and, of course, a chocolate cheery [sic] freeze. The Grill is renowned for its freezes. Be sure to get one.

New Orleans is a city made for walking around. We strolled along Exposition Boulevard on the fringes of Audubon Park. A bagpiper was skirling tunes including “amazing Grace,” “The Marine Corps Hymn” and–you haven’t lived until you’ve heard this on pipes–”My Heart Will Go On.” We also walked along Magazine Street a bit, until a drenching rain forced us to go visit Paul again, and see his gorgeous German shepherd Cyrus, who forgets he’s a dog sometimes. And Leon and I returned to our alma mater, Tulane University, where he got to see the newly refurbished University Center for the first time. (I saw it earlier this summer, and still think it looks llike a medical center.)

New Orleans is still a lively place, and there’s life in the ol’ girl yet. She needs her friends to pay her a visit, pump in a little cash, and help her back to her feet. Go see her one of these coming weekends. She’ll show you a good time. And be sure to spend an evening at Le Chat Noir, especially to catch Amy Alavarez in her Rodgers & Hammerstein show. That’s worth visit the city in itself!

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