Some days are for remembering. The background picture today is a plate of fried catfish and macaroni and cheese from Rocky and Carlo’s restaurant in Chalmette, Louisiana. I remember on Sunday afternoons my Daddy would take us there. It was about an hour’s drive from our home in mid-city. The place didn’t look like much. Driving by you might have easily taken it for just another bar room. Though in the New Orleans area some rather unassuming spots turn out to be havens full of great food. I most always ordered the veal parmesan with macaroni and cheese and red gravy. The portions were huge, and inevitably there would be more than enough left over to bring home for another meal.
Those who have visited my music Tumblr may remember that I’m a fan of popular music from the 1960’s–1980’s. But growing up it was my father’s music, largely from the 1940’s that was always playing at our house. Daddy used to listen to WWIW— the way it was radio 1450. I never did become a fan of that music, yet as I sit here today remembering I can hear that station’s brassy jingle as clearly as if it were playing in my headphones right now.
I haven’t been back to New Orleans since 2002, when my dad passed away. And I know that much of the city had to be razed and rebuilt after the flooding from hurricane Katrina in 2005. Though even without such cataclysmic destruction and rebuilding I also know that places constantly change and evolve. And once you’ve left, you can never go home again. I am finding that memories can be quite powerful. I really can almost taste that plate of veal and pasta as I type this. While I can’t say that remembering is necessarily as good as being there, I do know that memories can nourish the soul.