I moved to New Orleans on a whim: I had visited the city a few times and, like many people, was struck by the ruined beauty of the architecture, the food, the openness of the people, the embraced permissiveness of the culture. I signed a six-month lease as an experiment, and a few years later I was buying a house. Over the last 22 years, however, I have, on numerous occasions, contemplated breaking up with the city. But the one thing that kept me here is my beloved Creole cottage in the Upper 9th Ward. Rescued from an arson attack in the mid-1990s, the house has been a source of pride, frustration, companionship, dedication, focus and purpose. I feel, quite literally, tied to this plot of land.
– John C.