As is often the case, what I am researching finds its way into my classroom. Knowing many teachers in Louisiana who have had students express their “Katrina fatigue” when they’ve had to read and write on storm-related material, my main goal with these “out-of-state” students in Wisconsin has been the following:  to open their eyes and let the writing of New Orleans-based authors inform them of what really happened and is still (not) happening in terms of the recovery process.

This semester, my Reading and Related Writing course syllabus includes Chris Rose’s 1 Dead in Attic, which has been serendipitously supplemented by some of the essays in the recent issue of the Oxford American.

I chose Rose’s book over others because it’s a collection of his newspaper columns between 2005-2007, and all feature his signature sardonic takes on what makes New Orleans so unique.  As many locals are bound to note, Rose is dealing with some personal demons right now, but I, and several universities in fact, still feel that the book stands out as an artifact of a real-world event that impacted the nation.

In order to keep my students here in Wisconsin interested in writing that often includes very specific references to a place they’ve never visited, not to mention some quirky food and music names, I began some classes by asking them to list items specific to Midwestern winters, then requiring them to research some of the terms that most puzzled them in Rose’s book.  In brief, I aimed to have an equal exchange of place-specific information.  If they’d tell me how to survive the cold this winter, I’d tell them my NOLA stories.

I even showed them the opening sequences from the films Love Song for Bobby Long and Grumpy Old Men, and asked them to compare/contrast the depictions of New Orleans and nearby Wabasha, Minnesota.  After all, both cities rest on the Mississippi River.  What they zeroed in on, though, were the drinking habits of all the characters.  Oh well…you can’t always win.

I’ll blog again once I collect my students’ own place essays, but I want to use this post to talk about one moment from Rose’s book that both struck my students and sent me into a wave of nostalgia.  In “Despair: 12/6/05” [available online here], Rose shares the story of a local girl whose Atlanta-born fiancé moved to New Orleans to be with her, then committed suicide.  As Rose poignantly puts it, “Not even love could overcome.  Here, in the smoking ruins of Pompeii, sometimes it’s hard to see the light.”

The impact of trauma here is clear; however, one student wanted to ask me something else:  “Rose writes that ‘New Orleans girls never live anywhere else and even if they do, they always come back.  That’s just the way it is.’  Is that true?  Are you going to move back?”

I stopped in my tracks.  Suddenly I wanted to be in the French Quarter, visiting friends and familiar places, eating beignets, and even breathing in the scents of stale beer and Lucky Dogs.  I didn’t want to have to admit to myself, or anyone else for that matter, that it’s pretty clear I’m not moving back any time soon.  Having landed this great teaching job, my Midwestern-born husband and I just bought our first house, an hour away from his parents but miles and miles away from my real home, New Orleans.

To answer my student, I reiterated Rose’s point and spoke of the countless number of locals—boys and girls—I know who have either never left New Orleans or who have returned after brief sojourns in those “other” cities where the bars close at 2am.

I didn’t say I’d never move back though; as happy as I am here, I can’t bring myself to say that just yet.