I suppose we should introduce ourselves: We're South Louisiana.
We have arrived on your doorstep on short notice and we apologize for that, but we never were much for waiting around for invitations. We're not much on formalities like that.
And we might be staying around your town for a while, enrolling in your schools and looking for jobs, so we wanted to tell you a few things about us. We know you didn't ask for this and neither did we, so we're just going to have to make the best of it.
First of all, we thank you. For your money, your water, your food, your prayers, your boats and buses and the men and women of your National Guards, fire departments, hospitals and everyone else who has come to our rescue.
We're a fiercely proud and independent people, and we don't cotton much to outside interference, but we're not ashamed to accept help when we need it. And right now, we need it.
Just don't get carried away. For instance, once we get around to fishing again, don't try to tell us what kind of lures work best in your waters.
We're not going to listen. We're stubborn that way.
You probably already know that we talk funny and listen to strange music and eat things you'd probably hire an exterminator to get out of your yard.
We dance even if there's no radio. We drink at funerals. We talk too much and laugh too loud and live too large and, frankly, we're suspicious of those who don't.
We put Tabasco on stuff without tasting it first.
But we'll try not to judge you while we're in your town.
Everybody loves their home, we know that. But we love South Louisiana with a ferocity that borders on the pathological. Sometimes we bury our dead in LSU sweatshirts.
Often we don't make sense. You may wonder why, for instance - if we could only carry one small bag of belongings with us on our journey to your state - why in God's name did we bring a pair of shrimp boots?
We can't really explain that. It is what it is.
You've probably heard that many of us stayed behind. As bad as it is, many of us cannot fathom a life outside of our border, out in that place we call Elsewhere.
The only way you could understand that is if you have been there, and so many of you have. So you realize that when you strip away all the craziness and bars and parades and music and architecture and all that hooey, really, the best thing about where we come from is us.
We are what made this place a national treasure. We're good people. And don't be afraid to ask us how to pronounce our names. It happens all the time.
When you meet us now and you look into our eyes, you will see the saddest story ever told. Our hearts are broken into a thousand pieces.
But don't pity us. We're gonna make it. We're resilient. After all, we've been rooting for the Saints for 35 years. That's gotta count for something.
OK, maybe something else you should know is that we make jokes at inappropriate times.
But what the hell.
And one more thing: In our part of the country, we're used to having visitors. It's our way of life.
So when all this is over and we move back home, we will repay to you the hospitality and generosity of spirit you offer to us in this season of our despair.
That is our promise. That is our faith.
Kindest Regards,
Beautiful.
I lived in Southeast Louisiana off and on for 10 years amd still visit often. I will vouch for the truth of this email.
Dear South Louisiana,
Thanks for the kind words, though I must take exception to your penchant for doing things your own way while you are a guest in my town. I would expect that like any guest, you behave as one, much like I would if I visited your town. If I tell you what lure to use, it's because I have fished these waters for many years and know them like the back of my hand. This stubborness you exhibit, could it part of the reason you decided to build homes 10 feet below sea level, even though you were warned of an impending catastrophe? But back to my point: When in Rome, try not to act like an a$$, whatever your culture. We have opened up our homes to you and expect that you would not try to judge us, as you say, in our own town.
Thanks in advance,
A freeper.
Dear America,
Let me introduce ourselves. We are North Louisiana.
This is Bush country.
We didn't vote for Blanco, so don't blame us.
We appreciate the big bucks you just gave to help rebuild New Orleans! We work our butts off up here, but our tax dollars can't come in as fast as thier corrupt government officials waste it. We might even get some potholes patched up around here now! Woohoo!
Thanks for taking in our southern neighbors. We really REALLY hope they enjoy their stay with you!
Kindest regards
Just pass the gumbo.
At any funeral, there's always at least on fight. I think a few leaders in the families get together and start a pool on who will be the one to start the fracas, then donate the winnings to help fray the cost of the funeral. :-)