I was in New Orleans last week with a friend. We rode the St. Charles streetcar to the Garden District and went on a walking tour of all the beautiful homes.

I stood in awe in Jackson Square looking at the beautiful St. Louis Cathedral.

We ate lunch and drank Mimosas in the pink room at the Commander’s Palace Restaurant. A man with a handlebar mustache led us to our table. We had bread pudding and cafe au lait for dessert.

And then there was the music on Frenchman Street. The music was the crown jewel of the trip. At one of the music places we visited, the host described the interaction between the band and the audience. He talked to the audience saying that they had come to listen to the music and dance and “leave it all there” on the dance floor.

Even though I only listened to the music and didn’t dance, I felt he was right. The music was so full of a life of its own that it resonated throughout the audience. I felt that somehow listening to it was a cathartic experience. I felt at home, connected, alive.