another story to tell
I drive to work each weekday morning at 5:45 am. I quite enjoy the contrast of New Orleans' lights and the darkness as I travel towards the lake and bayou. Once on the highway that spans the basin of Lake Pontchartrain, the sun begins to paint the horizon pink and white cranes land in giant flocks amongst moss covered cypresses. It's breathtaking even with planes landing in the neighboring airport.
A few miles from the basin, train tracks meet the levee of the Mississippi River, and my little Toyota Yaris climbs the massive Hale-Boggs Bridge to glide down onto the west bank of the river. Another mile and I exit towards the oil and pharmaceutical plants, giant cities of steam unto themselves. The backbones of automobiles and pills. The future of most of my students.
Yesterday morning a man picked his cousin up at the OxyChem plant around 6:15 am. His five year old son unbuckled and asleep in the backseat. At 6:25 am, he crossed Hwy 3127 and did not see the tiny black car traveling 65 mph in the left hand lane. Neither had time to think and today are baffled that everyone walked away.
A few miles from the basin, train tracks meet the levee of the Mississippi River, and my little Toyota Yaris climbs the massive Hale-Boggs Bridge to glide down onto the west bank of the river. Another mile and I exit towards the oil and pharmaceutical plants, giant cities of steam unto themselves. The backbones of automobiles and pills. The future of most of my students.
Yesterday morning a man picked his cousin up at the OxyChem plant around 6:15 am. His five year old son unbuckled and asleep in the backseat. At 6:25 am, he crossed Hwy 3127 and did not see the tiny black car traveling 65 mph in the left hand lane. Neither had time to think and today are baffled that everyone walked away.