Letter From the Editor

By Marcy Nathan, Creative Director

The issue of Rouses magazine you’re holding is the first one we’ve printed in eight months. We put out three must-read digital versions — The Essential Issue, Beach Eats and The Breakfast Issue — that we shared on our website and social media, and that still live online (www.rouses.com), but we know nothing can replace the feel of printed paper in your hands. Producing this issue felt, appropriately, like coming home, albeit after a long, strange trip.

We’ve been talking a lot about home these days, and what it sounds like, looks like, tastes like — you know, all the feels. It’s clear no matter who you are, or where you’re from, there’s no place like it.

It took me years after losing my house to Katrina before I found a new one in Uptown New Orleans that felt like home. It’s 114 years old, and lately it’s been showing its age. Pandemic home remodeling is apparently a thing, and I’m right there with everyone else who is sick of their old kitchen or bathroom — and in my case, leaks, and a fridge that sometimes thinks it’s a freezer. There’s been a steady stream of workers at the house, and my 92-year-old neighbor, Mr. Tommy, aka the Mayor, provides a running commentary on them, as well as everyone who lives on the street.

Uptown is one of the largest historic neighborhoods in the United States. The house next door was once a meat market; the one across the street a barbershop. I can practically see the giraffes at Audubon Zoo from my way-too-expensive new porch. Audubon Zoo, by the way, dates back to 1916.

I am lucky; I have two of the greatest neighborhood restaurants in the city, maybe the world, just up the block and around the corner: Patois and Clancy’s. When the longtime maître d’ at Clancy’s died from the virus, our neighborhood mourned. When the restaurant reopened, we celebrated.

But it’s not all panéed veal with crabmeat and lemon icebox pie around here. We also have an all-night Circle K nearby, which is perfect when I’m feeling real, real snacky. I once tried to buy Mike & Ike candy there, but the clerk told me, “Nah, baby girl, you need to go to a corner store for Mike & Ike’s; we’re in the middle of the block.”

I love my sliver by the river. It feels like home.

I do wish it still sounded like it. Music is New Orleans. But aside from the occasional driveway concert and visit from Piano on a Truck, and the murder of crows who have taken up residence on the power lines outside, it’s been too quiet. Even the high school marching bands — a familiar sound in my neighborhood this time of year — aren’t practicing much.

I don’t know whether my favorite bars and music clubs like Tipitina’s will be back with bands this year. Or if we will have Mardi Gras parades with marching bands next year. Or even Jazz Fest. I’m hopeful we will. I’ll certainly be ready for all the music when it comes back.

But until then, I can’t help but wonder: Is it strange to feel homesick, even when you’re home?

I’m supporting organizations like Feed the Second Line, which provides food and employment to the culture-bearers of New Orleans (www.feedthesecondline.org/#Send-Love); Tipitina’s (www. tipitinas.com/friend-indeed); and The Jazz & Heritage Music Relief Fund, which was created by the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Foundation to support Louisiana musicians who’ve been impacted by COVID-19 (www.jazzandheritage.org/contribute?donation). Contributing to funds that are important to you – even a small amount – will ensure that home still feels like home when things return to normal. #localshelpinglocals