Jazz

New Orleans. It pains me to think about it. Death toll presumably in the thousands. Risk of epidemic. Hundreds of thousands homeless. That is all very very horrible. But this is not what is making me cry tonight. Jazz. The birthplace of jazz. The birthplace of the music of my soul is gone. Wiped out in a mere two days, what it has taken generations to build jazz. As I sit and listen to my regular jazz, I can't help but reaize that the history is gone. Every club, every basement theater, every concert hall, gone. It's been wiped out in the blink of an eye. I can't help but cry at the sound of the lonely saxaphone. There is something different tonight. The notes flow more, the music seeps into my soul. The music is my soul. It's gone. The birthplace of jazz has been taken by the wrath of the sea. My secret dream has been to study jazz in New Orleans after college. That dream will never be fulfilled, for even if they restore the city, New Orleans, will not be there. Physically, yes, but emotionally, spiritually, culturally, New Orleans is gone forever.