Here’s to a kinder, gentler 2025 after a rough start
Bourbon Street on Dec. 30, a block from the New Year’s Eve tragedy.
Early on New Year’s Eve, my family and I boarded our flight out of New Orleans for JFK, where we were to land around 10:15 p.m. and had planned to ring in the new year at the TWA Hotel at the airport. Hours earlier, we had crossed over Bourbon Street at Canal Street several times. For the past five nights, we had frequented that area.
Our flight home was diverted to Richmond for 2½ hours of leisure plane time because of bad electrical storms at JFK. We rang in the new year from our upright coach seats as the flight attendant counted down 4-3-2-1 just after taking off for the second time. They treated us to the leftover bags of graham crackers that no one had wanted on the first go-around for snacks. Finally, at nearly 1 a.m., we landed at JFK and dragged ourselves to the hotel where the bars were already closed.
I awakened around 8:30 the next morning to find a text from my sister saying “Holy Moly!!! So glad you left when you did! Happy New Year” and a link to “Ten dead and dozens injured after driver plows car into crowd on Bourbon Street.” I had to read it again as my foggy brain didn’t quite respond.
Since that moment 18 hours ago, I’ve been numb. It’s not like we were on Bourbon Street and narrowly escaped when that evil man sped down one of the most crowded streets in America, but to have been there so recently and to have walked in that exact area so many times felt surreal. I can’t even process how fortunate I feel nor how guilty I feel over the annoyance we felt when our plane had to sit on a tarmac for 2½ hours. That was nothing.
Earlier on New Year’s Eve day, my family and I had walked through the French Quarter to a restaurant on Jackson Square. On the way there, two flashy pickup trucks, one black and one white, pushed through the intersection in front of us bumping with loud rap music. I looked in at one of the drivers to register my displeasure at their disruptiveness. Later, I wondered if I had been looking at someone involved in the tragedy, possibly scouting locations?
I can’t stop thinking about the victims, who were so innocently taken by surprise on a night that was supposed to be celebratory. Most of them were young. One was a sweet young 18-year-old about to start nursing school. Several were young parents. One worked as an AV tech for a contractor at the Superdome. It is a tragedy of epic proportions. We should only be talking about them, not the angry, evil person who ended their lives.
Too many times in recent years I have witnessed anger outsized to the issues that sparked it. So many people are angry about so many things. Everyone feels ripped off, or entitled, or both. Fewer people are willing to accept blame for their problems or situations, seeking to push it off on others. Too many are turning to settling scores on their own.
More people are rude and revengeful. We want what we want when we want it. If we don’t get it or something goes wrong, it’s not our fault, it’s the system’s or the man’s fault. Patience is no longer a virtue. Good things don’t come to those who wait because we won’t wait.
I wrote my January blog for Susquehanna Style Magazine a few weeks ago, resolving to unresolve and avoid the list of self-improvements in 2025. Instead, I suggested things like helping others, practicing mindfulness, and working on relationships in 2025. I’m going to add another: Practice understanding and giving love in 2025. Life is too short. We all need to find patience and time for each other.
