Off Topic Saturday

As Girl Friday pointed out, the universe works in hilarious ways. Presumably like my fellow weekday dishers, I was hard pressed to find time to sit down with blogger this week-- but for me it was because I was on the road in the deep south. My first trip there, ever.
So, this Girl Wednesday wanted to take a few minutes this Saturday to think about what I witnessed and to see what yaw'll think about it.
Having grown up in a part of Long Island that's so heavily visited by people from New York City, and having grown up to move there, I usually have a hard time figuring out what draws people to live in parts of the country that do not at least somewhat frequently interact with city folk.. Not to mention places that are planes, trains, and automobiles away from the Big Apple. (I fully recognize my ignorance here, is equivalent to one's small-town mentality. I am not proud of this by the way).
My producer and I drove from the airport in New Orleans to Gulfport, Mississippi. A three hour trip. We drove the low bridge that hovers over boisterous muddy waters, the humid green of the bayou, the endless stretch of rolling highway surrounded cavernous woods in the brightest greens I've ever seen. We switched highways, briefly passing through bursts of oversized strip malls; then, less populated areas with mom-and-pop truck stops surrounded by small junk yards, antique shops, and magnolia trees.
Right before we hit the gulf, there was a long row of fast food restaurants, and a vacant border town.
Then-- remnants of old southern mansions dotted the coast, amid sun-bleached sand and blue water: Long Beach, Gulfport, Biloxi, Bay St. Louis and Pass Christian- where hurricane winds and waters have left almost nothing of a sleepy, happy town.
I was sort of knocked off my feet by the beauty- especially of Pass Christian- which actually felt so much like home, I was surprised when people spoke and a southern drawl came out.
We were there interviewing hurricane survivors for a show we're working on. And speaking with these people, who so loved their home that literally not hell nor high water could convince them to live someplace else, made me realize that maybe not everyone cares about New York City and wishes they were there. And maybe I am still lucky that the vegetable of the day in my neighborhood will never be "fried-red-beans-ma'am," but it doesn't mean that its the only place I'll ever love and call home. Maybe I'll find a place that I'd cling to a tree for, in the middle of 200 mile-per-hour winds, walk home barefoot, and then go rebuild my home, right where it stood before the storm wiped it out to sea.