And he looked up, and saw the rich men casting their
gifts into the treasury.
And he saw also a certain poor widow casting in
thither two mites.
And he said, Of a truth I say unto you, that this
poor widow hath cast in more than they all:
For all these have of their abundance
cast in unto the
offerings of God: but
she of her penury hath cast in
all the living that she had.
Luke 21: 1-4, Bible
New Orleans…the big easy…beignets…chicory coffee…Bourbon
Street and the French Quarter full of convention people…a sight the city
father’s are grateful for in the devastating wake of hurricane Katrina – seven years in the past
and from whose effect the city is still recovering. The city was warm and humid for October...moreso than
I expected.
A different time…
It was 1969 when I came here the first time, while training
as an air traffic controller in the military.
It was Mardi Gras and three of us hitchhiked from Biloxi, Mississippi to
see this, ah…phenomenon I had heard so much about.
I had $10.00 in my pocket, and upon arrival, the three of us
went straight to the bus station to purchase tickets home on the 11PM bus back
to the military base in time for morning formation – it was six bucks. We put those tickets in a locker, the key in
my pocket and headed for Bourbon Street with four dollars in cash next to that
locker key. That night was most
interesting and enlightening in the early life of a young fellow who had grown up in the Midwest. Culture shock would not adequately describe
what I saw in the raucous streets of the famous French Quarter. Whatever I had
expected or the pictures I had seen were not preparation enough for that day
and evening!
Years later, I would give the first scientific presentation
of my career at the Marriott Hotel on Canal Street in that same city, and see
for the first time in my life homeless people sleeping on the streets. It was surreal to be staying in an expensive
hotel within a block of folk lying full length next to buildings on the
sidewalks. It is an image that passes
through my mind with clarity even as I write this piece. Over the years, I have come back maybe 10 to
15 times. New Orleans, with little
doubt, has provided me with unique and very memorable experiences.
The present…
This isn’t the first time I’ve come here this year. I do a little work for a company based in
Orlando, Florida that has put a spine center into one of the larger hospital
systems in the city. I’ve been in a
couple of times in the last 12 months, but had no time to ‘taste’ the French
Quarter… The convention I attended this week afforded me the opportunity to
wander a little once again through Les rues du Quartier Français (streets of
the French quarter).
I have been a part of this organization since 1989, which to
the present has met north of the border from Vancouver to Toronto and Quebec
City. In this country on the East Coast from
Boston to New York and Orlando – to the Western shores of Seattle, San
Francisco, and San Diego…stopping annually in between to include Chicago, Colorado
Mountain resorts, Austin and Dallas just to name a few. One might think conference organizers can’t
make up their minds, but this is the way many scientific and professional
societies have their annual affairs…variety helping to attract attendees.
While each society is unique, most scientific spine meetings
are similar with lots of people presenting lots of research papers, while lots
of other people listen to them. In these
annual events, one rekindles old friendships, makes new ones in environments that
begin early with research papers, focused symposia, and sessions conducive to
open discussion, ending with evening events and dinners that often go late.
This year’s meeting was held at the Ernest N. Morial
Convention Center, named for the first African American Mayor of the city, and made
famous during the Hurricane by the hordes of people using it to take shelter. It contains approximately 11 million square feet (1.2 million sq. meters) of meeting/exhibit space and
covers a length of six tenths of a mile (1km).
The Southeast end of this mammoth building sits near the hotel in which
I stayed, and by the time one walked to the other end, they wandered past several restaurants, hotels and slipped under a freeway interchange. The building is BIG.
After a long day of professional immersion, evenings are
filled with society events, dinners and fellowship with colleagues.
A thematic event
kicked off the week…
Often there is a rather interesting welcoming
reception. This year, the organizers
rented Mardi Gras World, a large warehouse offering a ‘behind the scenes’ look
at many floats used in the Mardi Gras Parades.
The place was huge, and after passing a live New Orleans Funeral brass
band, one walked down a long corridor packed with larger than life figures of
action, fantasy and cartoon characters of every kind. There were eight-foot tall (2.4m) football
players, princesses, kings, monsters, lizards…the amount mind-boggling.
In the next building there was what appeared to be an outdoor patio with a couple of
hundred people sampling food and drink from tables and bars strategically
placed around its edges. Scattered
amongst the trees in this area were a lot of small circular, four chair, tables
filled with people eating, drinking, laughing and chatting. The thing, however, is that this garden patio
was actually indoors with a very high ceiling.
Its size and structure was so real, it was hard to imagine it was
actually inside a building.
After spending a little time with friends, a couple of them
sorted out the rest of their evening and headed for a jazz establishment, I had
eaten enough, and while the evening was young headed out of the building and
back to the hotel…except…except for the distraction out of the corner of my eye
that changed the course of my evening.
The unexpected – the
singers…
As I exited the building, there was an open sided tent where
folk from the society could also sit and chat next to the river. It was a bit quieter for conversation and it
had live entertainment – a live community based gospel choir.
At first I did not know what kind of music this group was
performing, so I wandered over just to see.
For the next hour I was captured by 20 or so old south, Jesus praising, God
loving, spirit filled, mixed gender/race folk singing their hearts out
accompanied only be a small key board, mesmerizing the smallish audience in the
open air of that Louisiana ‘clothes clinging humidity’ filled October evening.
I looked at their shoes as they rocked back in forth in
song. On balance, they were old and well worn. I looked at their trousers which were also well worn and baggy. I looked at their ages
and shapes. They were older
and overweight, suggesting there might be current or impending health issues
facing them. And then I looked at their
faces. To the person they shined as
brightly as the morning sun, and as they sang both they and I were transported
and transformed by the life they were sharing.
Sometimes I watched as I listened, catching an eye or two leading to a
little extra energetic sparkle; sometimes I simply closed my eyes to let the
sound of their harmonic voices penetrate my heart and bathe my soul.
At this scientific meeting attended by those most privileged
by the trifecta of intellect, education and circumstance, I had NOT expected
this. While I learned much at this
meeting, there was nothing more edifying nor enlightening as that group of
senior citizen gospel singers filling the night air with a sensibility of
meaning that find no words in the paltry vocabulary with which I have to
communicate…it was, well…it was simply wonderful.
When they were finished, I went to thank them, and was
surrounded by a small group hugging me and thanking me for coming and
listening to them. They were thanking me!!
Wednesday night, on the bank of the Mississippi river in New
Orleans, Louisiana; little doubt there was an open display of wealth. As it turns out, however, it was NOT in the
hands of my professional colleagues, but rather in the voices of 20 men and
women sharing without reservation the gift of music God had so richly blessed
them with.
That evening I experienced the “…widow’s mite...” and while
they sang with all their hearts – in the end, they lifted mine.
Loved the city... To bad our schedules were a week off.
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