 |
 |
 PREVIOUS NEXT 
The Living Desert
 The severed roof of a ruined home sits several feet from its foundation in a pool of black mud. Across the street, cryptic graffiti painted on the front of another indicates that it was searched for bodies before being abandoned. On the next block, a family sedan is perched abstractly upon a rusting fence. Great mounds of furniture, photo albums, shoes — the detritus of life — lay rotting in front yards.
Nine months after hurricanes Katrina and Rita caused  the levee failures that flooded New Orleans, thousands of moldering remains like these are all that is left of the Lower 9th Ward and many of the city’s other suburbs. Yet, as unsettling as these static images are, they cannot begin to convey the feeling of silent desolation experienced when standing at the center of this panorama of rotting hulks. Because each ruin represents a life interrupted — perhaps destroyed.
 Even Scarlett O’Hara, who rebuilt her portion of the beleaguered South with only her wits and the belief that every tomorrow brought a reprieve, would have raised her fist in despair at this stagnant devastation.
Uptown, in “The Sliver by the River” — an area that remained relatively dry — the city still reflects much of its traditional gay tableau. Hotels and shops are open for  business. The recognizable smell of beignets and coffee drifts from cafés. Chefs around this city, already known for superlative cooking, are producing meals that are notably better-than-ever. As one local put it, “They’re cooking as if their lives depended on it.”
Yet, upon closer inspection, even this region is not unaffected. Garden District mansions sport roofs covered with government-issued blue tarps; uprooted trees lean  threateningly into buildings; and abandoned cars and piles of garbage line the roads. Audubon Park hosts an inexplicable flock of ducks that may have arrived after their migratory pattern was altered by the storms. In the bustling French Quarter, meringue blares from jazz bars in order to attract the new Latino customers who have flocked here to rebuild a city now largely denuded of its domestic working classes.
New Orleans remains a mainstay of national news reports because — though a truncated Mardi Gras was thrown last February, and Jazz Fest will begin this weekend — it is hardly back to normal. More than half of the city’s former residents, many of them poor or African American, are gone and may never return. Those who have come back waited these last nine months for directives on where and when they could begin to rebuild their homes. The levees that failed are not yet rebuilt and will not be reconstructed to withstand another storm of Katrina’s magnitude. Furthermore, only last March was FEMA funding approved to resume looking for the missing dead who still await proper burial.
Amid the chaos, a mayoral election, held April 20, has resulted in a May run-off between the incumbent, C. Ray Nagin — who gained national exposure as the frustrated face of his chocolate city — and Lt. Gov. Mitch Landrieu, brother to a Louisiana senator and son of a former mayor. Landrieu may become the city’s first white chief in nearly 30 years. But, while the nation will invest the coming victor of this political contest with temporary omnipotence, the lingering symbols of failure decaying along Lake Pontchartrain attest to the reality that it will take more than a single leader to restore normalcy to this embattled region.
Still, tomorrow is another day.
APRIL 26, 2006 ©Suzanne Rush 2006. As seen in Studio City Sun (Vol.4, No.13)
OWLCAT ARCHIVE -CURRENT-2-3-4-5-6-7 8-9-10-11-12
|
|
Cold Spring, Hot Food
One the most depressing aspects of having lived through the last decade of urban renewal in Southern California, was watching the destruction of so many charming old buildings. Most of the houses and other properties that were “developed” during that period were replaced with Godawful eyesores that now take up more space, increase traffic and density and make one long for a little Unabomber shack in the woods to get away from it all.
That’s one of the reasons California’s Cold Spring Tavern, located on Highway 154, North of Santa Barbara, is such a gem. It has hardly changed since it was built in 1865. Back in the day, the Tavern served as a way station for stagecoach passengers traveling through the San Marcos Pass. Today, it is still a remote, dusty locale, serving travelers willing to adventure off the beaten path.
That’s not to say the Tavern is unknown. In fact, during regular meal times, it’s hard to get a seat. While many love the turf and turf menu — and particularly rave about the tri-tip sandwiches served only on Sundays — what really makes this place worth visiting is the authentic, 19th century, western ambiance.
If time feels like it stands still here is because owners Adelaide Ovington and her daughter Audrey, have purposely preserved the ramshackle quality of the buildings to keep them just as they were when they bought the property in 1941. Go tomorrow, go again next year, go whenever you want. As long as the Ovingtons remain in charge, it will look exactly as you remembered it — which is more than you can say about almost anything. Including you.
5995 Stagecoach Road
Santa Barbara, CA 93105
(805) 967-0066
coldspringtavern.com
|
|
