Valentine's Day

If someone had ever told me that, at this point, in my life, I would be living in a city called Mandeville, Louisiana, I would have been speechless with incredulity. Me, a forever urban girl, and a Yankee at that, living in a southern city whose name translates as "big farm."

But, it is Valentine's Day, and here I am. Now, a few facts about Mandeville.

It's post-Katrina population totals 12, 421. A strange number -- 12, 420 would be so much symmetrical. I guess I'm that extra "one." The odd man out. In so many ways.

I don't have soccer-mom blonde hair. I don't play tennis. My political views are that of an independent and I generally keep them to myself. The phrase "family values" typically gives me indigestion.

Once upon a time, doctors sent their New Orleans patients with respiratory difficulties to Mandeville to take in the clear air. That was when Mandeville was a haven for towering pines. Six months ago, I was able to look out my living room window and see nothing by greenery. I now keep my blinds closed at night so that I don't get a seizure from the flashing neon sign advertising "Kim's Nails." Even with the blinds closed, that damned purple light manages to poke its ugly self through the window.


In 2009, I threw my hat in the ring as a candidate for interim mayor. When asked, the other candidates immediately affirmed that they were proponents of business expansion in the city. Me, not so much. Not without consideration of some kind of master plan. A plan that would not include being able to feast my eyes on a Dollar General store when I awaken each morning, or listen to the perpetual drone of bulldozers making way for the next similar attraction.

It also would have been nice if our forefathers had considered the benefits of sidewalks which are few and far between here. Yes, we have two state parks within walking distance, but you can't actually walk to them.

Long ago, things were much different. At the beginning of the 20th century, bands played music on steamboats traveling from New Orleans across Lake Pontchartrain, and at at local pavilions and dance halls. Mandeville was the first place where jazz music was heard outside of the Big Easy, and many early jazz artists played here.

Many people don't know this, but there used to be numerous lighthouses in the Mandeville area, too. The ultimate romantic edifice.

Mandeville still has its merits. Two libraries. Good schools. Low crime. But it could be so much more.

Maybe I'm especially feeling this way today because Mandeville, as livable as it remains in contrast to many other communities, can sometimes be a lonely place for the "plus one" to the 12, 420 other residents. Particularly when that person just lost a close friend. Someone she could have seen herself kicking back with on one of those musical, magical steamboats so long ago ...