I know Katrina happened awhile ago, but I cam across this amazing letter to America, written by Chris Rose, and it blew me away. So, I decided to share it with you all in hopes that is moves you, and deepens your love and respect for the people of South Louisiana.
Dear America,
I suppose we should introduce ourselves: We’re South Louisiana. We have
arrived on your
doorstep on short notice and we apologize for that, but we never were much
for waiting around for invitations.
We’re not much on formalities like that. And we might be staying around your
town for a while,
enrolling in your schools and looking for jobs, so we wanted to tell you a
few things about us.
We know you didn’t ask for this and neither did we, so we’re just going to
have to make the
best of it. First of all, we thank you. For your money, your water, your
food, your prayers,
your boats and buses and the men and women of your National Guards, fire
departments, hospitals and everyone else who
has come to our rescue.
We’re a fiercely proud and independent people, and we don’t cotton much to
outside interference,
but we’re not ashamed to accept help when we need it. And right now, we need
it. Just don’t get carried away.
For instance, once we get around to fishing again, don’t try to tell us what
kind of lures work best in your waters. We’re not going to listen. We’re
stubborn that way.
You probably already know that we talk funny and listen to strange music and
eat things you’d probably
hire an exterminator to get out of your yard.We dance even if there’s no
radio.
We drink at funerals. We talk too much and laugh too loud and live too
large and, frankly,
we’re suspicious of others who don’t. But we’ll try not to judge you while
we’re in your town.
Everybody loves their home, we know that. But we love South Louisiana with a
ferocity that
borders on the pathological. Sometimes we bury our dead in LSU sweatshirts.
Often we don’t make sense.
You may wonder why, for instance – if we could only carry one small bag of
belongings with us on our
journey to your state – why in God’s name did we bring a pair of shrimp
boots We can’t really explain that.
It is what it is.
You’ve probably heard that many of us stayed behind. As bad as it is, many
of us cannot
fathom a life outside of our border, out in that place we call Elsewhere.
The only way you could understand that is
if you have been there, and so many of you have. So you realize that when
you strip away
all the craziness and bars and parades and music and architecture and all
that hooey, really, the best thing about where we
come from is us.
We are what made this place a national treasure. We’re good people. And don’t be afraid to
ask us how to pronounce our names. It happens all the time. When you meet us
now and you look into our eyes, you will see the saddest story ever told.
Our hearts are broken into a thousand pieces. But don’t pity us.
We’re gonna make it. We’re resilient. After all, we’ve been rooting for the
Saints for 35 years.
That’s got to count for something.
OK, maybe something else you should know is that we make jokes at
inappropriate times.
But what the hell. And one more thing: In our part of the country, we’re
used to
having visitors. It’s our way of life. So when all this is over and we move
back home, we will
repay to you the hospitality and generosity of spirit you offer to us in this
season of our despair.
That is our promise. That is our faith.
Please pass this along.
