philosophical depth and lightly-worn grace still awe me when I revisit my wellthumbed copies of The Moviegoer and The Last Gentleman. He had a theory, which he liked to expound over bourbon and hog’s head cheese, that people are at their happiest when a hurricane is about to hit. When you’re mired in the everydayness of ordinary life, he explained, you’re likely to be afflicted by what he called “the malaise,” a free-floating despair associated with the feeling that you’re not a part of the world or connected to the people in it. You are alienated, detached. But not when a hurricane is about to hit! Everyone is focused, connected, engaged. We know what we’re supposed to do, and we do it! It’s only after the waters recede and the earth begins to heal that the malaise and alienation creep back in. But I think Dr. Percy may have had it wrong, at least with regard to Hurricane Katrina. Katrina has created the exception to Percy’s theory: this time the malaise has not settled in again, and the everydayness of life as we knew it in New Orleans never re-formed. Five years after the storm, many in the New Orleans community look back at Katrina as the point where we realized our purpose in this world. We learned how to join together, about the nature of community, and how to play a role in something larger than ourselves. I suspect that even 50 years from now, those of us who are still around will continue to see Katrina this way. A few days after the storm, Louisiana governor Kathleen Blanco asked me to serve as vice chairman of the Louisiana Recovery Authority. Although surprised by the offer, I accepted, and flew from my home in Washington, D.C., to Baton Rouge to survey the damage with a team the governor had assembled. We flew by helicopter over a city still flooded, and I could see my childhood home submerged under ten feet of water. I realized then that New Orleans might never come back, that it might be the end for the city where I grew up. Within a few weeks, people did start to come back. It should come as no surprise to those bred in New Orleans that restaurant owners were among the first group of intrepid entrepreneurs to return, bringing with them their particular
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