PLEASE DON’T LEAVE!

So let’s back up a few years. My parents separated when I was around 12 years old. Ultimately my mother moved to Colorado. Being the youngest in the family, Mom got custody of me every summer for a number of years. That meant I got to visit Colorado a lot before leaving high school. There was a lot to like – a drier climate, cooler nights, mountains, even snow.

Over time, nearly everyone in my family moved away from Louisiana. Mom had moved a couple of times for my step-dad’s career – Colorado and California and Florida. My sister had long ago moved to Kansas. Both brothers ultimately moved to Colorado, also. That left my dad and stepmother and my stepsister in Louisiana. My stepsister was destined to stay in New Orleans, it seems – she’s still there today and I think she now qualifies as a native. But my dad was retiring and he and my stepmom moved back to her little hometown in Missouri after my fourth college year. I had one more semester to go, thanks to my decision to change my major after two years in. So, I spent the Fall semester, my final one, in Louisiana alone except for a couple of good friends.

What was there to keep me in Louisiana? I had some friends, but are those enough to keep someone in one place? For some people, yes, but countless people move all the time and leave friends behind. I had my degree, but I had decided not to pursue the subject post-graduation. I still think that was a good decision, but at the time it left me without knowing what to do next.

In 1987 the economy in the New Orleans area was not very good in general, although there were some improvements happening, and I figure it still lags behind in various ways. For year upon year, New Orleans had been ranked as “America’s Murder Capital”, the city with more annual homicides per capita than any other, sometimes facing stiff competition from Houston and Washington, D.C. Louisiana turned out good people, smart people, and higher education there was not bad. But college graduates were fleeing the state in droves. Not without good reason. Mayor Barthelemy pleaded with educated young people to stay and help the region progress, and rightly so.

In Colorado, I had family, I greatly preferred the climate, I felt the economic future was brighter, in some ways the culture was more exciting, and I felt more alive, inspired, and energetic there. I knew my future was not in Louisiana, even if it meant leaving my friends behind.

Even if my family still lived in the New Orleans area, I am not sure it would have been enough to keep me there. On the other hand, had I never experienced a place like Colorado maybe I would have been content to stay put. I’ll never know. But I have never regretted my decision to leave for even one second.

I visited my old hometown three times over the next several years. The first trip confirmed I had made the right decision, as it got the nostalgia out of my system. The second trip was with my wife to attend my stepsister’s wedding in New Orleans. We went in total tourist mode, something I’d never done, wandering the French Quarter and visiting my old haunts in my hometown and my college town. We enjoyed it, but once again it got something out of my system. I think it was a desire to show my wife some of where I came from, how I was formed and shaped growing up in the Deep South. The final trip was a one-day business trip to set up a booth at an expo on behalf of my employer, and although I had a nice visit with my stepsister and her husband, I was happy to leave in the end. I’m proud of my Southern heritage, and I am grateful to have gotten to grow up where I did. But that’s the past.

That trip with my wife was some 14 years ago or so and we haven’t been back. There are various reasons – we’ve vacationed in other places, and lately there have been extended family matters dominating our plans. We had a good time there and don’t count out a future visit. It’s not a high priority, however.

I seem to be out of step with the rest of my family, and not for the first time. Over the last several years, the members of my immediate family have visited and revisited New Orleans and the surrounding area repeatedly. Some really seem to love the place. I’ve always wondered why there is such fervent affection and devotion. What is the draw? I welcome your comments.

photo credits:
“sidney barthelemy” by unknown
“music new orleans style” by Brenda Anderson
“maroon bells cliche” by august allen

Within a couple of years, my brother was on another of his frequent mini-obsessions. This time it was an early sign of his lifelong affinity for the simple, rustic life of the distant past. The new obsession was Southern Rock. In my stash of records from our sister, I had a few from The Marshall Tucker Band and my brother knew it. He was desperately into the genre and wanted to negotiate a bargain with me.

“Paul, you have those Marshall Tucker albums and I am dying to get my hands on them,” he said. “So I’ll trade you. If you give me your three Marshall Tucker albums, I’ll give you any three albums in my collection. Anything. Just name it.”

Now, I had never listened to those Marshall Tucker records and I didn’t even like the band all that much. Frankly, they were a little more grown-up than where my tastes were at the time. A decade later, I finally started to appreciate them. That’s kind of a pattern with certain music in my life, particularly stuff that was classic before I was ready for it. However, for the first time in my life, I had bargaining power over my middle brother and I wasn’t going to waste it.

“I want your Richard Pryor albums.”

I have never seen such a look of dismay on another person’s face to this day. Immediately, the negotiating began. “Come on,” he said, “anything but those. Pick anything else. You don’t even like Marshall Tucker!”

But he wouldn’t budge and so I wouldn’t, either. I never got Richard Pryor from him and he never got Marshall Tucker from me. A short time later – weeks? months? – his fervor for Southern Rock had cooled drastically, which was not unexpected, and not only did he stop pleading for my records, but also he started to move on to other, newer fascinations. I was stuck with records I didn’t care about, but at least I didn’t give in. And I was pretty pleased about that.