I was first introduced to the scenic, exotic, and, unpredictable city of New Orleans as a seventh grader in middle school, at the young age of thirteen-years old. Going on a decision made by group majority, we settled on exploring the city for a weekend on a trip we made from our basecamp in Biloxi, Mississippi, our home at that time.
I first traveled to the Gulf Coast from Boston, Massachusetts during the month of June, for three weeks. We were on a mission trip to help rebuild, gut, and or clean whichever home or field we were sent to after the disastrous Hurricane Katrina had caused ruin through the region, however, not that weekend, that weekend was for appreciation and sightseeing. Our days were spent absorbing beautiful architecture, catching glimpses of cultures come together like no other place, and, of course, trying every possible local cuisine before we became stuffed. After exploring the area in and around New Orleans, and later falling for the city, I made sure to participate on the annual voyage to the region.
On my third and final mission trip, my freshman year of high school, the church that sponsored our trip from Massachusetts to the region was conveniently located a few short miles out of the city of New Orleans. We were to work directly with the people affected by the breaking of the levees. The words “flabbergasted” and “dumbfounded” did not, and still fail to describe my reaction to witnessing the conditions in which some people continued to live, even five years after the storm had arrived and gone.
Being desperate to return to the city of New Orleans for the first two years of my annual trips, I was caught in an utter state of awe at what I discovered after my wish was finally realized on the third time...
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...ght I was, and as David Mamet writes, “that is whom I [pretended] to be” (The Cabin, 123). I find that no two people are alike and everyone has their own reasons and stories for being in such a distinguished city. I am proud to share a city with people who lost most, if not all, material possessions but managed to cling on to their love for something bigger than they. The Woodwrights may not know it, but it is by their grace and their mere existence that I am where I am today. Sure, they did not guide me through high school, but they were always the voice and the instinct, either in my mind or in my heart, or both, to search for schools in New Orleans, and return to where I belonged.
Works Cited
Bolaño, Roberto. Between Parentheses. New York: Penguin Books Canada, 2011. Print.
Mamet, David. The Cabin: Reminiscence and Diversions. New York: Vintage, 1993. Print.