9/11/08

Sept 11,2008 Reminds me of 9/11 some years ago when i was living along, divorced in a one bedroom apartment on St. Charles Avenue In New Orleans . My actor son Barret was in NYC and my daughter Rory was at Fordham. They called me before I saw the news on TV or left my apartment.
• I had left my husband after twenty-four years. Packed a suitcase and went down the backstairs. Left my grandmother’s Victorian green cottage on Carrollton Avenue in New Orleans, which I had inherited and he had taken over, and my sixteen-year-old daughter in her pink bedroom, which I had designed. Left with one eighteen inch roller suitcase did if for all the fifty-year-old women who can’t leave their trapped situations, who can’t demand respect, kindness, and consideration from their mate. I gave away most of my clothes all the furs, ball dresses, costumes stored in the attic. All my jewelry: divided it among friends, daughters and son. Donated my library of books to Tulane University, my collection of T. Williams’s tapes to the English Department. Gave all my photos and papers to my eldest daughter, left all the antiques, the paintings, the piano and the china in a 4,000 square foot house in my family for centuries. Took my real jewelry, my laptop, and my soul.