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Thanks to our most loving mother, my sister and I were able to take a day trip to New Orleans sans enfants. We sat in on a couple of the Tennesee Williams literary festival talks, held in the Counting House at the beautiful Historic New Orleans Collection, a room that was painted wedgewood blue with near white trim. On the wall behind the lectern was an enormous portrait of three sisters in white Scarlet O’Hara dresses. I had a hard time keeping my eyes off them.
from www.hnoc.org
The wall to my left was also adorned with portraits from two centuries ago: a scowling older gentleman, the lady of the house, several young people, including a young girl who must have been the house maid. One dashing young man could have been a stand-in for Mr. Willoughby, with his dark tousled hair and flirtatious smile. Were these people actually related, or had the historical society collected some portraits and arranged them to indicate familial connections?
We also had time to spend wandering the streets of the French Quarter for a couple of hours. Browsed in a couple of shops pretending we might actually buy something. Stopped in for a sandwich at one little corner bistro but were overwhelmed by the patchouli, so we passed out again through the side door. Peeked around the Ursuline Convent, now a museum, and studied its intricate model of New Orleans, its reproductions of old Bibles, and its display of actual Episcopal jewels, which suggest that a great strength of humility is needed by the man who wears them to withstand the intoxication of power. The convent church was repainted in unfortunate pastels. The empty tabernacle indicated that it isn’t currently in use; unfortunately, it wasn’t repainted to represent the period during which the convent was flourishing. I noticed in the festival program that one of the presenters scheduled later in the weekend had written two books about the Ursulines, who settled in New Orleans nearly 3 centuries ago, and who must have represented order and peace in contrast with the bacchanalian pursuits indulged in a few blocks away. The partially tended garden, peopled by contemporary statues of southern spiritual leaders, scented with orange blossoms, and sprouting a few random herbs, suggested the peacefulness of the cloister that must once have thrived here. The visit to the convent was at least as instructive as the festival.
After visiting New Orleans on three separate occasions, the feeling of having arrived in a foreign land has faded a little. I feel like I can orient myself around the French Quarter: That way to the Mississippi River, the opposite way to the city park, which we only drove through, west to the Garden District, east back home. There is still much of the city to discover; I know we’ll be making a trip to do the Audubon zoo and insectarium at some point, and I’m daydreaming about a weekend trip with my husband after his return: we’ll check into one of the quaint little European style hotels a couple blocks up and over away from the shopping and bars. Then we’ll stroll at a romantic pace along the city streets for awhile before dining at one of the little bistros. The next day we’ll visit some churches and look for the oldest tombs at some cemeteries, before spending the rest of the afternoon at the art museum and picnicking in the city park. Maybe whoever is watching the kids could meet us there, so that we all could enjoy the little storybook theme park there.
I’m happy my mom and sister felt the instant enchantment of New Orleans on their first visit. You always want the people you love to love what you love. Like this picture.
4 comments:
Sounds like a lovely place. The portrait is gorgeous, brings back memories of my youth. My mom had a huge picture of 2 girls at a piano dressed nearly the same as those in your post.
Have a blessed Holy Week and a Happy Easter!
I'm so glad y'all got to go! When you take your husband there, WATCH OUT in the cemeteries. They can be really dangerous. A great thing to do on Good Friday, if you ever get the chance, is to do the Stations of the Cross in the St. Roch cemetery with the congregation of Our Lady Star of the Sea. It's an incredible experience.
Anne - I wish I could remember where I first saw this picture and shamelessly copied it into my pictures folder. Do you know who painted the picture your mom had?
Daisy B - You've piqued my curiosity about the cemeteries - should we beware of pickpockets or ghosts? Just today I was going through the Clarion Herald, the New Orleans Catholic paper and saw a blurb about a Good Friday walk to nine churches to pray the stations. Wish I could go back for that! But we'll be in Houston for the holy days.
I appreciate you taking the time to ponder and pass on what you saw and thought. I've never been to that city, or even been attracted to it, but you communicate the truth that there is something to appreciate, something of God, in every place. Maybe it's similar to the way I feel about San Francisco--or would that be all cities? Where people congregate, there is always much sin. But the New Jerusalem is a city of some kind, demonstrating God's redemption.
And one key to visiting a city must be to focus on some details, as you have done, so you don't get overwhelmed by a superficial scan. I love the picture.
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