Have you ever had one of those perfect midsummer days? A state of perfect peace unobstructed by the noise of modern living, only to have your blissful contemplation torn asunder like cheap holiday wrap on Christmas morning? I have recently survived just such an experience not two weeks ago. Allow me to elabo rate if you will.
I had been called upon by our administration to attend a conference in our nation’s capital on assessment in higher education, something our administration takes quite seriously. So there I sat on the edge of the National Mall, watching in silence as the Annapolis sailing team made its way slowly around the tidal basin, conducting its daily regimen in sweltering early morning heat, mist slowly rising to slightly obscure the Jefferson Monument. I watched as the small sailing vessels cut thin, straight wakes in the Potomac. As a sailor, I am always drawn to the water. Its stillness seems to allow me the clarity of thought necessary to break through the chaos of daily life, to find humor in so many of life’s little struggles.
I pondered at the beauty of creation, the grander meanings behind the city I was visiting when I heard footsteps on the stairs behind me. I peered up to find an elderly lady and her husband, who decided to sit down on the stair adjacent to me and wait for the opening of the Lincoln Monument.
Soon, my newly acquired associates broke the silence and began to chitchat about such mundane things as the weather, the monuments in the mall and the sailing team practicing maneuvers in the still waters of the tidal basin.
No sooner had the conversation started than they learned I was from New Orleans. With that, they began to ask me about the recovery of the city. As we spoke, they learned that I was a college professor, rode a Vespa scooter, surfed and was a sailor. They seemed to appreciate the surfing and sailing, but when I mentioned the scooter, the man stopped. With a puzzled frown, he asked me how I got to work every day. How did I manage to get the scooter through the water? Huh? What water? Oh, THAT water! I smiled and told the pair that the flood waters and tidal surge had long since gone. The city had been dry for nearly two years. That seemed to quell any concerns my companions might have had about the idea of riding a Vespa through urban flood waters.
Since most of the student body attending Loyola comes from areas other than New Orleans, I would like to take this moment to comment on the current bleak impression so much of the nation has regarding our city. New Orleans does have crime, yes. That is a sad truism of urban culture, drugs, poverty and a poor educational system. However, with that said, New Orleans remains the most beautiful, intriguing and unique city in the world. Being a professor, I travel extensively throughout the United States. I have been to cities and small towns all across this huge nation. I have not yet come across any area that has the culture, history and ethnic signature of New Orleans. I like to consider myself a “local,” despite the fact that I am a transplant from central Illinois. I’ve embraced New Orleans and Loyola as my home and opted to remain in this area as administrators and colleagues have turned tail to depart for higher ground in the wake of Katrina.
Our city is, sadly, experiencing a bit of bad press, if you will. This, in turn, is affecting the local universities and tourist bureau. Instead of the beauty and cultural diversity of our city, the rest of our nation is witnessing a barrage of negative press. The media blitz seems to delight in targeting the murders, drug crimes and post-Katrina misery currently afflicting our city. Last night, Glenn Beck made a very convincing argument on CNN for the cessation of all rebuilding in this area. He pointed to the rampant corruption, crime and ecological problems troubling this entire region as reason enough to stop all rebuilding efforts and allow the city and its surrounding metropolitan communities to be returned to their original marshy state.
As students and faculty return to campus, remember to take a moment every day to simply ponder the meaning of being a New Orleanian. What does it mean to live in this area? Are we doomed to face utter destruction from another super storm, as predicted by the naysayers in the popular media? For fear of sounding like the eternal optimist, I would like to believe that our levees will eventually be rebuilt, that our illustrious politicians will come to their senses and corruption will become a mere footnote in some dusty history book.
All right, so it’s an ideal! But take an opportunity to be part of the solution … not part of the problem.
Welcome back, Loyola.
Dr. Wendy Hicks is an associated professor in the criminal justice department.
