I was born and raised in New Orleans. When we had a child in 1992, there was no way we were going to raise him there during the middle of the crack wars. We hit a high of 424 homicides in 1994 with a population of approximately 484,000. Our son made his first homicide scene when he was 3 months old. We also had a couple of mortally wounded dope dealers dumped out of a car about two blocks from our house, which was in the safest neighborhood in town. It rained bullets every New Years’ Eve from celebratory gunfire. Life in that town generally revolved around food, beverage, music, Mardi Gras, festivals, and, at the time, a crappy pro football team.
New Orleans was, and remains, a very dysfunctional city in terms of governmental services and crime. It has become more gentrified since Hurricane Katrina, with McMansions replacing older hurricane-damaged houses in Lakeview (including the one we sold when we moved) and high-end renovations being undertaken in previously transitional or bad neighborhoods. Property values have greatly appreciated, resulting in higher taxes without any appreciable enhancement that I can see in terms of services. (Of course, the pandemic has killed tourism, so the future is bleak without “free” money from the feds.) The crime rate is lower than when we left, although crime generally has gone down nationwide.
My mom is still alive, and I get down there to see her and my sister, and to visit old friends and colleagues. I can sleep in my old bedroom if I want, and I left some stuff there so I can travel light. I made it to the Jazz Festival three years ago, and my wife and I enjoyed Mardi Gras this year. (We did get rear ended while driving a rental car, but that is another story.) Our son regularly visits his grandmother and aunt, but he thanks us for moving whenever he returns to Wyoming.
We could never live there again. We much prefer the wide open spaces, mountains and woods.
