As I sit in the dark with the generators rolling like waves on an imaginary New Orleans beach, I could almost be fooled into thinking there's a soothing quality to the current circumstances.
Then I sweat through my third shirt of the day and turn on my battery-powered lantern to walk through the home I've lived in for years yet hardly recognize, and I quickly remember the realities of life without electricity.
For a variety of reasons many chose to stay in New Orleans and the surrounding areas through Hurricane Ida's wrath and the difficulties afterward. Others didn't have the luxury of making a choice. They stayed as the storm plunged the city into indefinite darkness, through the horrid smell of spoiled refrigerators and sweltering heat and humidity that offers nearly no respite.
Many made the equally painful decision to leave their beloved homes behind to ride out the storm elsewhere. There was no right decision. There was no wrong decision. There are only difficult choices.
For me, one of those difficult choices comes this weekend as I depart my home for one with electricity to help cover LSU football's opener against UCLA. From there I'll turn my focus to the New Orleans Saints, playing yet another "home" game hundreds of miles from the place called home.
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But as uncomfortable and distressing as the current state of Louisiana might be, two thoughts keep coming back to me: We'll get through this together ... and it could've been much, much worse.
I can't say the latter part from experience. But it's not difficult to find people who can, any of whom could've probably written a far more compelling version of this column from memory alone.
And the fact they're still here to tell those stories speaks volumes. Each has their own unique and often tragic twists, memories held like a badge of honor. They'll speak of a city that didn't just survive Hurricane Katrina 16 years ago, but came back stronger. They know exactly how bad "worse" can be. They've seen it. They've lived it.
A large number throughout the state weren't as fortunate as myself this week, still with the ability to live in my darkened home with a fiancee and pets to keep me sane.
And that's what I've continued to tell myself when I get low, figuratively and literally. The only way I've been able to get rest has been by following a tip from those animals, sprawling out on the hardwood floor, a survivably cool surface that allows for at least a few hours of sleep at a time.
Throughout that I've continued to see the question posed: Why? Why does south Louisiana battle back every time it's thrown to the mat?
But I don't see that question as much of a mystery, even after just a half-decade since work brought me to my new home. While others might look at a city and a state beset by tragedy and ponder that question -- often out loud -- we see our home. We see passion. We see history. We see what we know is worth preserving. We see love. We see culture. We see parades. We see art. And yes, we see a good time as often as we can.
What we won't see is self-pity. What we won't see is anyone quit. What we won't see is a community that throws in the towel because others don't think it's worth the fight. We know it is.
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And that's why this weekend feels particularly important. As many head into yet another day still unsure of exactly when the lights will pop back on or when loved ones will finally be able to return home, we'll be unified by something that's called a game but means so much more.
Over the past week, many of my colleagues at WWL Radio have virtually lived at the station to help give wall-to-wall coverage and vital updates day and night. The job has never felt more important than when you hear and read the level of critical, potentially life-saving information shared minute-by-minute.
On Saturday, that coverage will turn to LSU taking over the airwaves for a few hours of much-needed distraction and excitement on WWL AM-870 and FM-105.3. Many might not be able to watch on TV or in person, but we'll all be together.
LSU football won't cure the ills across south Louisiana. A certain result might actually make you more frustrated than you were before.
Eight days later it'll be the Saints in the spotlight, shipping out from their temporary home base in Fort Worth to host a "home" opener against the Green Bay Packers in Jacksonville, Florida. Another "Domecoming" could arrive as soon as Week 4. We'll be together for that, too, even if we're not all there.
We might not know when the lights will return. We might not know how long it'll take to really, truly feel at home again. But we know who we are. And if you've ever lived in south Louisiana, you know football is about a lot more than wins and losses. It's about a lot more than points and big plays. It's about community. It's about a common goal. It's about fight.
That's as important now as it's ever been, and to quote the great philosopher Ed Orgeron: "Geaux Tigahs."