Lynne and I had a lot fun in New orleans in October 2000 for the DMA convention. Lots of memories. It also marked my switch to digital cameras, a huge paradigm shift that improved my creative abilities. Now, here’s the very sad reality in that once-great city:
* New Orleans Times-Picayune newspaper has switched to a weblog format, an excellent decision.
* Photos from Nola.com.
* Live video stream from WDSU.
Like the eventual earthquake and destruction of California along the San Andreas fault, New Orleans has held the kinetic potential of elimination ever since it was built 20 feet below sea level. Will the water drain? No, the water will rise until levees are plugged/fixed and the water is pumped out. I think today is the day we realize that this is going to take a long time, if we can even afford it. As Dave Winer said, this is beyond spin. That might be a good long-term societal change, if it sticks.
Riding on the City of New Orleans, Illinois Central Monday morning rail Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders, Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail. All along the southbound odyssey The train pulls out at Kankakee Rolls along past houses, farms and fields. Passin' trains that have no names, Freight yards full of old black men And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles.
CHORUS: Good morning America how are you? Don't you know me I'm your native son, I'm the train they call The City of New Orleans, I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.
Dealin' card games with the old men in the club car. Penny a point ain't no one keepin' score. Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle Feel the wheels rumblin' 'neath the floor. And the sons of pullman porters And the sons of engineers Ride their father's magic carpets made of steel. Mothers with their babes asleep, Are rockin' to the gentle beat And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel.
CHORUS
Nighttime on The City of New Orleans, Changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee. Half way home, we'll be there by morning Through the Mississippi darkness Rolling down to the sea. And all the towns and people seem To fade into a bad dream And the steel rails still ain't heard the news. The conductor sings his song again, The passengers will please refrain This train's got the disappearing railroad blues.
Good night, America, how are you? Don't you know me I'm your native son, I'm the train they call The City of New Orleans, I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.
-- The City of New Orleans, by Steve Goodman
Probably the saddest thing heard so far, from the Mayor, on the WDSU video stream this morning: “The looting situation is going to take care of itself due to the rising water levels.”