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Survivorship.

Yesterday we were walking around New Orleans' neighborhoods, Audobon Park, the French Quarter.  It's odd to be in a place that you know was visited by such devastation only six years ago.  We place such a high premium on survivorship in our society and I'm here in a city seemingly dedicated to revelry,* and everything you see that was here before 2005, people included, is a survivor.  It conjures a kind of awe that is quickly forgotten, gilded over with Mardi Gras beads and drive through daiquiri bars.

But really, is this so unusual?  Aren't we all survivors of something?  Who hasn't lived through a tragedy of some kind, a loss, a misfortune, an event that threatened to tear your world apart?  It's an amazing aspect of the entire human existence that we forget, overlook in the day to day.  It's interesting that the very indicator of survival, the ability to go on with your day-to-day life, means forgetting that there are things to survive in the first place.

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