Analog Life
In New Orleans, where spectacle is de rigueur, few things are more appreciated than the hollow gesture.
Photo of Katy Perry looking into the sun, courtesy of Reuters.
I was in Virgil Park yesterday, a part of New Orleans I rarely visit. I had no particular reason except to see what was going on. I am here to report that nothing is going on in Virgil Park. It is the kind of neighborhood where people move to raise a family.
There are not many families in my neighborhood. There are schools but very few children live nearby. They are bused in. The reason they come to our neighborhood is because we have the school buildings.
There used to be more children in Tremé.
I write this while I listen to single people under 40 converse amongst themselves how they will never have children and they are happy for that. You cannot miss what you have never had.
A thimble is as full as a jug when it can hold no more. The difference is that a jug is made to pour. People tell me all the time that they are happy to be childless. They fool me every day.
Coincidentally, one of these people, the eldest of them, lives in Virgil Park. She has a child but she was commiserating with the sterile. “Yeah, it is expensive,” she said. She owns her house.
They all do the same job. I am not hanging out with rocket scientists, neurobiologists, or quantum physicists. I talk to these people but it is rare that I encounter more than one and the same room. These people are regular people with a regular understanding of the world—like you and me.
“You wouldn’t be happy in Virgil Park,” the mother tells me. She is right. I prefer density. As I remarked yesterday, people move to Virgil Park because they want to live there. I would live there but it wouldn’t be my first choice. I dislike lawn care.
Then again, if I lived in Virgil Park, I would be closer to Pontilly Coffee.
I have never seen a child at Pontilly Coffee. The reason for this is because, when I go, all the children are in school. Young minds are nourished by the state during the day and by the family the rest of the time. There is very little screen time. An analog life confers self respect.
As they say every time the front door opens at 3300 Gentilly Boulevard, “Welcome to Pontilly Coffee!”