My First Night In New Orleans

In 1994, fresh out of Pediatric residency, and uncertain as to my course, I decided to take a chance and do some Locum Tenens (travelling doctor) work. My first assignment was in a tiny town in Indiana, where, for the first time, I actually saw miles and miles of amber waves of grain. It was perhaps one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen.

My third assignment was in Covington, Louisiana. It is a small town north of New Orleans . . . just over that eighth-wonder-of-the-world bridge that crosses Lake Pontchartrain.

As it is in many states, when one applies for a Louisiana medical license for the first time, one must present one's self to the Board of Medicine for one of the old geezers to size one up. I was scheduled to start work in early November, and arrangements were made for me to interview on October 31.

Halloween.

To my complete dismay, the Medical Board's office was in the heart of the city . . . quite literally in the French Quarter (I have no idea if, after Katrina, this is still so). My interview was in the late afternoon to accommodate my arrival.

As I drove through the narrow streets of the Quarter (something I would do many times in the months to come), I saw all manner of ghost and goblin . . . and some things that, to this day, I cannot quite describe.

It's one of many memories of New Orleans I have come to cherish.

Tonight it all came back to me as I discovered a restaurant in the city in which I am working. It's called "Crescent City". Now, I am watching the calories and could not sample some of the dishes I would have liked to, but I did have the best Cobb salad I've ever had anywhere . . . with spicy blackened chicken.

It was an early dinner and there were not many people in the restaurant. The manager and I struck up a conversation, and when he found out I had lived in the New Orleans area, I was immediately a VIP. He told me that people from Louisiana were always coming in and telling him how to make his gumbo/creole/etouffee/remoulade/jumbalaya.

I just bet they do:)

As I have blogged before, I rather enjoy Halloween. I was watching a TV show earlier this week in which a Wiccan was explaining the significance of the day to her faith. She said that it was a celebration of life . . . not death . . . showing respect and appreciation for the souls that have crossed over . . . and those that are crossing back/reincarnating.

I think that's a nice way to look at it. I lost someone a long time ago on this night. And every year at this time, he (and others) feel just a little bit closer. The veil between worlds seems a little bit thinner. My spirit soars to dance with others when a candle is lit or a train whistle blows.

Anyway, tonight, after the salad, feeling like I had a few angels sitting on my shoulder, I blew that diet all to hell and order a beignet with cafe-au-lait.

I have not had a beignet since leaving New Orleans.

I ordered only one, and asked the waiter to take it easy on the powdered sugar. He brought me two . . . absolutely buried in white. As I rolled my eyes in protest, he winked and said, "I betcha can't eat just one".

I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of chicory in the coffee. Memories flooded back . . . of people now gone and a place I loved now irrevocably changed . . . and tears came to my eyes.

To the waiter's amazement, I dumped most of the sugar, and ate one beignet. I boxed the other.

Of course, I inhaled it just a few minutes before staring this post.

The diet can resume again tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day.