South Coast Rock Tour
~ Day 23 ~
Walmart Travelers…Slow Pace…New Orleans…Jamie…Nobody.
The Lafayette layover was unexpected, though that has been a
descriptive word for this whole journey thus far. Excited to be in Louisiana
and new territory, I woke up with a smile despite not sleeping well due to the
cold temperatures. Went into Walmart to freshen up and when I came outside,
there was a couple with a dog who were sitting around the corner of the
entrance doors. Went to Tumbler and grabbed some Hot Hands warmers, then walked
back over to them. “Cold yet beautiful morning, friends. Ya’ll want some hand
warmers?” The guy replied, “Heck yeah! Those things really help in this cold
weather. You from around here?” --- “Nah, just traveling through. Headed to New
Orleans.” --- “We just came from there. You’re going to love it. There’s a
place for everyone there.” The guy’s name was Trash, the girl’s name was Lisa,
and their dog’s name was Baby Girl. The three of us sat there for an hour
talking about their journey from California to Louisiana and now back to
California again. Lisa’s close friend had died back in her home town and she
said it was a funeral she had to go back for. She had mixed feelings about
going home. Her story made me wrap my arm around her shoulder several times
throughout her sharing titles of many dark chapters. I bought Subway sandwiches
and we ate them as people walked past us with an array of expressions. Some
gave Trash a dollar or some change, a bag of non-perishable food, or a can of
dog food for Baby Girl. While most glanced away or gave sneering looks, I was
glad to see the handful of people who acknowledged us with a smile or beyond
the gift of simply seeing us. Trash and Lisa were saving up for a Greyhound
ticket back to Northern California. If I wasn’t going the opposite direction, I
might have given them a ride for a couple hundred miles. Tumbler would have
been packed with 3 people, a dog, and all of our bagged up belongings, but it
would have been an cool adventure. The hour spent with my new friends was a
perfect start to this new gift of another day. Gave them a “Hope” rock, and
Lisa had moisture in her eyes when we hugged one last time. Trash gave me two
green and pink polished pebbles. We parted paths, going opposite directions,
yet with a similar hope for the next step along the journey.
Interstate 10 and the 17-mile bridge to Baton Rouge was
still blocked off due to ice. The cars and semi-trucks were either taking one
of two detour routes. I chose the northern detour of 190. There was no “better”
option, as both routes consisted of bumper-to-bumper traffic. It took almost 3
hours to go from Lafayette to Baton Rouge and then another 3 hours to go from
Baton Rouge to New Orleans. The scenery was quite stellar though. What some might
perceive as boring and bleak, was beautiful and brightened my sight with the
mossy foliage and winding canals. The slow pace created space to take in the
new topography. An array of song playlists was the soundtrack to the crawl to
the New Orleans vast, downtown sprawl.
While crossing The Crescent Bridge that stretches over the
Mississippi River, my heartbeat quickened. It was 6pm and though I pretty tired
from the last 3 days of intense driving, the site of the skyscrapers was giving
me an extra dose of adrenaline…. And I would need it for the night ahead of me.
Drove around the crazy one-way streets and traffic-congested main streets to
get a feel for the area. This was my first time in Louisiana, yet alone, this
vast city with a reputation for many things. Parked at a high-rise lot above a
Dave and Buster’s restaurant. This would be my go-to parking place for the next
few days. It was downtown, yet several blocks from the French Quarters and I
liked the long walk to prepare going in and the processing of then coming out.
I certainly have been getting a lot of miles of walking in while on this
journey. Add to that a backpack that weighs over 50lbs. My new shoes are already
well-worn and weathered.
The main downtown area was walked for an hour. For a Thursday
evening, the streets were busy, but not near as packed as the French Quarter.
The place is a city within a city. Again, this has been my first experience in
New Orleans, so I was totally green going into this unique territory. Only a
few blocks in, I met a man named Jamie. He was a Grateful Dead fanatic with
long, dark dreadlocks. We hit is off immediately. Told him I had just rolled
in, and he gave me a verbal tour of the French layout. Jamie picked a “No
Limit” small rock. We hugged and said we would try to find each other again.
And that we did, as tomorrow would include much of Jamie and his friends whom
would become my new family in New Orleans.
The French Quarters were explored for the next 2 hours.
Bourbon Street, Royal Street, and Decatur Street… all packed with people of
various cultures, dress attire, and differing levels of intoxication. It was
wild and crazy. My heartbeat continued to palpitate at a high rate. It was so
much to take in, both the streams of eclectic people and the ground-level
architecture that stretched upward to more artistic detail. It was only 9pm,
and I knew this place was just starting to come alive with the evening
entertainment. Part of me wanted to stay later to hand out rocks and hugs, but
the other part of my heart was craving stillness and quietness. Knowing I
wouldn’t find either of those in this part of the city, I walked towards Canal
Street and found a sidewalk space down from the hustle and bustle. Sat in front
of a store that was closed yet still had their front window lights on. Went to
pull out some blank rocks to draw on and noticed that my zipper bag of
pre-drawn rocks was not in my backpack. There had been a couple dozen rocks
inside that took probably took 10 hours to make collectively. I retraced my
steps in my mind to decipher where the bag might have been left. Had stopped to
give rocks to several people in the French Quarter as well as stopping to sit
on a doorway stoop to eat a granola bar. The bag could have been left at any of
those locations… bottom line, it was very unlikely to still be sitting at any
of these places. While I was bummed about the loss, I prayed for the person who
had picked up what they had gained. More rocks would be made and a new zipper
bag would be purchased. If this was the worst thing that happened to me
tonight, it was still a good night.
I sat on the sidewalk and scribed rocks for the next 2
hours. During that time, a young guy walking a bicycle weighed down with his
belongings strapped down on all sides of the bike, came strolling up to me.
“Hey, I dig your rocks, girl. Mind if I sit down here for a bit?” I nodded and
introduced myself then asked his name. “My name is No One, but my initials are
I.M. so therefore I-M-No-One.” This produced the start of a long conversation
with No One, who was certainly a someone. We talked about our travels, New
Orleans, the people’s response and the police’s reaction to we who were homeless,
and how he had meant to “pass through” New Orleans, but had stayed for over a
year now. I.M. had drank his share of alcohol for the day, but continued to sip
as we shared our stories together. He was shocked that I didn’t drink. “You
will be drinking by the end of the weekend. The longer you stay here, the
easier it is to stay drunk and high.” I thanked him for the cautious warning,
and reached down to wipe the bottom of my shoes and then slid my hands down my
chest and arms. My new friend might have thought I was simply brushing dirt
off, but in actuality, I was shaking off any attachments or residue that his
words had just tried to adhere themselves to me. While “no one” continued
talking, I made him a specialized rock with life-giving words written on it. He
read it slowly when it was placed in his hands. He gave me a pebble from a
small, leather pouch, as well as my choice of “a shiny thing” from his
collection of said things. We embraced and he pushed his baggage-laden bicycle
onwards down the street. We would merge paths again tomorrow. More rocks were
scribed and felt my eyes growing red with tiredness. Made the long walk back to
Tumbler and found a Walmart on the other side of the Mississippi River. It was
only 11pm when I made my bed in the backseat of Tumbler, but sleep came
quickly. My dreams consisted of both New Orleans as well as home on Suncreek
Farms. I was loving the new street family members I had met tonight, but my
heart was missing my blood family whom I loved most deeply back home. 
New territory.
New faces.
Same Truth.
Same Faith.
Unshakable Peace and Purpose
Cling to the Rock
Psalm 18:1-2
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