You’ve probably given more than anyone I know, and are certainly more in need of an opportunity to step back, recharge and think about it after all that you’ve been through, and all that you’ve given to the city.

I’ve only known you since and through the Mid-City group, but I can fairly say: even if you chose to go tomorrow, you have made a tremendous positive impact here that those of us who’ve known you would not soon forget. The city will not stand or topple by your decision, but it has a better chance for what you’ve already done to far. Find some time and figure out what you need to do for yourselves.

The husband of one of my old co-workers at a newspaper in Kosciusko MS, a town not all that far from you (and much smaller–you’d probably consider it impossibly safe, to go through it, and it’s refreshingly clean, well-regarded, integrated public schools, etc.)–was killed at his workplace a few miles outside of town a few years ago. I’d interned under the wife as a college student and worked with her later while recovering from an accident. I didn’t know the husband, but I still consider her one of the best people in the world, and completely undeserving of having to live without her spouse in what would have been their retirement years. She’s still working–keeps her sane.

Fact: Violent crime doesn’t only happen in New Orleans or large cities generally. And this man was, like Hill, middle class. He was middle aged. The murder rate is inexcusably high here right now. It is not so among the middle class, as far as I have been able to tell. But don’t kid yourself about your ultimate safety from violence (at least) anywhere, and especially not anywhere in the trigger-happy United States. (And weren’t kids shooting at motorists off a bridge near Bloomington last year?)

I’m just here to witness that life with kids is immensely easier when you live near some family members (aka the world’s best babysitters) if there is a little one on the scene…

Getting stoned for the first time in ‘92, I found an appreciation for jazz, blues, and funk. I went to my first Jazzfest in ‘93 and decided that New Orleans wasn’t so bad after all. ‘94 in stark contrast, if memory serves right, was not a proud year. The year ended with the Times-Picayune headline of 200-plus murders in New Orleans. Among them was a friend’s older brother who was murdered in the Ninth Ward.

In the years after I went back and forth between New York and New Orleans. My mom was living in Manhattan at the time. I found NYC to be thrilling yet more impersonal and too busy. I was missing the Big Easy. I came back for two solid years. I enjoyed my time back in NOLA until I found myself in Central Lockup on the eve of Easter. I was embroiled in legal troubles for the rest of ‘98. I was hating New Orleans at this point. One notable fact during my ordeal was that I was witness to the underhandness prevalent in New Orleans Traffic Court. Nevertheless I had a good lawyer and was rather glad that i did. The monkey was off my back by Christmastime, and I went back to New York the next year.

‘99 to 2001 weren’t exactly good times however. I found myself in Stony Brook, New York trying to finish up my graduate engineering degree. My mom retired and went back to New Orleans. So I didn’t spend as much time in the Big Apple. Long Island in comparison was rather drab and dull. I couldn’t wait to graduate. Had a few good times with the college crowd I befriended up there but overall I was homesick and depressed. I remember seeing a local band at the graduate student lounge playing New Orleans funk. That just about brought it home to me. I was exceedingly happy to hear this yet homesick and at the same time proud that these New Yorkers pretty much had a sincere appreciation for New Orleans culture.

Well to make a long story shorter, here I am back in New Orleans since 2001 and working at the Michoud plant out in the East. Am I happy to be here? Well depends what mood I’m in actually. Ever since the year began however I am finding that a rather challenging question. Maybe I really should consider that job offer in Seattle. After all I hear there’s more single women in their thirties up there. I probably need a break from New Orleans for a while. But then……

I hope you find peace with whatever you decide to do

Helen Hill knew what it meant to love New Orleans. She did everything she could to move back. She was violently killed IN HER HOME in front of her husband.

I feel safe now. Sure, living anywhere else can be dull. Hell, this new city seems lifeless at times…..

I don’t know if I’ll ever be whole again.

all of us that never went back, that couldn’t go back, that chose to move on — our hearts break every single day. we could drown in the longing for our lives there before the storm. we feel tremendous guilt every single day for leaving New Orleans behind in her time of need…..

But what is the price for staying?