Thursday, December 30, 2010

Banking on the New Year in New Orleans.

It's not where you live that matters, it's what you make of your life.

I found the sign above laying on the side of the road.  I DID NOT BREAK IT OFF ITS POST!  That said, it is one of the few things I have kept since leaving Olde New London.  Naturally, I couldn't leave it there for someone else to pinch.  I carried it home on my motor scooter and it has become one of my prized possessions.  It is now on the mantle in a place of honor next to my pipe rack.

Bank Street is the most interesting and busy of New London, Conn's streets.  State Street (nee Congress) is stately, but all the real action happens on Bank.  I spent many hours over the course of a decade on this cluttered rattlebag of a thoroughfare.  Good times.  Good people.  Little traffic.  A vesperado's paradise.

If you ever find yourself in New London catching a ferry or a train, check out Thames River Wine and Spirits.  Don't stay on the ground floor.  Visit the cellar.  It will take your breath away.

Where am I going with all this?  We'll find out when I'm finished.  At the eve of the New Year, I am reminiscing.  I enjoyed my stay in New London, it made me Whalehead King.  My time spent afterward, in Boston, was less rewarding.  Dorchester, Mass. is a helluva town, but the rest of Bean Town and I didn't mix so much as mingle and the tingle that I felt when I first moved there didn't linger.

New Orleans...well, that's another story.  Like many people, I suppose, I feel home in New Orleans.  I don't understand much of what goes on around me but I'm sure I will in time.  I just spoke with a transplant from Worchester, Mass. (pronounced "wooster") and he said, "See you later, babe," when we parted company.  I don't foresee myself calling anyone babe anytime soon, but you never know.  It's happened to other yankees who came before me.

I've made some hard decisions and some resolutions for 2011 and beyond.  I didn't move 2000 miles on my little motorcycle (details of the trip in the sidebar to your left) to stare at a computer screen for eight hours a day.  I came to New Orleans to live, to be a productive citizen, to add my dram of whatever it is I've got to the cocktail.  Sink or swim, I'm here to stay, come what may.  So far, New Orleans has been as good to me as New London ever was.  Not better, but certainly  not worse.  It's up to me to make it better and, from what I survey, I'm on a level playing field ripe with possibility.

This post will be the last I'll subject you to maudlin introspection.  Beginning January 1, I will be up to my some of the more usual shenanigans long time readers are used to.  I'll be reporting on the subjective facts of what I encounter, but there will be more spirit of play and whimsy.  I have my bearings and I know my course.

Best wishes for a Happy New Year and best wishes to you and yours.
With a handshake,
Smart women prefer to live in New Orleans rather than read about it.
With more adventures to follow.  Let the games begin!

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