NEW ORLEANS — New Orleans is a city rooted in adversity: Built below sea level, on top of sinking soil, often in the center of the cone and at the epicenter of outbreaks, we have been tested. But our pulse still beats to a familiar rhythm. Our culture is no casualty of COVID.
It's hard to believe something so deadly, so insidious could've wrapped itself around us in a blanket a joy. Mardi Gras 2020 believed to be our super spreader.
We remember talking to one of the very first patients, Eugene Jefferson. He seemed to be okay, until just days later, he wasn't.
And as the numbers increased, so did the press conferences and the restrictions. Bars and restaurants closed, schools moved online and anyone who could worked from home. There was no such thing as safety in numbers. We were encouraged to stay six feet apart or alone. Zoom, social distancing and flattening the curve became part of our lexicon and masks ultimately part of our wardrobes.
And yet the virus spread, sweeping through nursing homes and Carnival dens, leaving most of us shocked, confused and in mourning, and some of us indescribably exhausted. Doctors and nurses worked around the clock putting themselves at risk.
N-95 masks and PPE became as scarce as toilet paper. Testing kits were in short supply too. People lined up for them like they would to get into sporting events or festivals. Though, of course, those had all been canceled.
Life was changing, but as generations had done before us, we adapted.
Traditional graduations may have been called off, but celebrations were put into motion nonetheless. And the city known for its parades lined them up: for birthdays, retirements and just because.
Jet engines screamed thank yous from above to the weary healthcare workers below, fueling their determination to never give up.
College football stadiums were empty, but a noisy skeleton crowd of Who Dats and the Saints kept us cheering.
And kids kept us smiling, decorating our sidewalks as, step by step, we made progress. Our lives were marked in phases and sometimes we took two steps forward and one step back. It was a delicate dance to reopen the economy, but everyone stood up. Out of work musicians performed on porches and online and listeners paid what they could, grateful for the music that fed their souls.
And while food lines grew, restaurants offered free meals, only to have other customers often foot the bill.
And when COVID called off Carnival, homeowners called up those unemployed artists to decorate their houses and new traditions were born.
People rolled up their sleeves to help their neighbors and then rolled up their sleeves to help their neighbors, by getting vaccinated.
The crisis isn't over yet but, by most accounts, the worst is. We have lost so many. Their memory will forever be marked in the city's history, like the brave souls before them who fought the Spanish flu and yellow fever.
New Orleans has been tested again and though we are not immune to future crises, the sun will set on this one and a brighter tomorrow for our people and our culture will surely follow.
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