Diary: Home From Manresa, Eating All The Way.

Sunday, December 3, 2017. Return To The Real World. After Jude and I eat a big platter of Manresa's fried chicken, dirty rice and petite pois, we take our good old time preparing to depart. As if he didn't want to leave Manresa--an understandable feeling--he hadn't yet packed for the drive home. He also wanted to get some pictures of the levee across the highway. There we found two elongated pyramids built of logs. They are distinctive to the bonfires that will be set afire on Christmas Eve--a long-standing tradition on the River Road levees. We don't usually see these under construction during my retreat, but the oddity of this month's calendar brought this and other displays for us to appreciate. From there, we dawdled through the afternoon, killing time so Jude can get an evening's sleep before he flies out very early tomorrow morning. I was more concerned about finding my car in the airport parking garage, a puzzle I've dealt with more than a few times. I seem to be getting better at it, though, and I have a perfect four-out-of-four record with the most recent airport car fetchings. Before going to the airport, we made a few stops in some of the neighborhoods where I lived as a child. Jude found this fascinating, and we wound our way along Jefferson Highway. I mentioned that this route--traveled on standard transit buses-- took me to Jesuit High School when I was a student there. This made Jude want to swing by Jesuit. Logical enough. The Jesuits own both the school and Manresa. Indeed, I had a few teachers who would later become retreat masters. Jude also attended JHS for two years before Katrina. Although he knew I would be disappointed, he would never return to Jesuit High after getting a taste of Georgetown Prep. He never really liked JHS, and was glad to leave. But it's always been true that Jesuit is not for everybody--and I don't mean that in an elitist way. After we got an eyeful of our old alma mater, we rolled on a few blocks to Angelo Brocato's. We had spumone at Manresa on the first night, and it was still in our mouths. Leaving there, we got lost twice: once in City Park, which was shortly to open with its amazing Celebration In The Oaks Christmas display. We disoriented ourselves again as we drove up and down Broad Street. When we got loose, we drove to Metairie for a light supper at Andrea's. I was glad to see Chef Andrea there, because I knew he wouldn't mind if we occupied a table for the next two or three hours before we gathered the car at the airport. There we exchanged a guy-hug and felt the warmth of perfect father-and son time together at its end. Manresa has that effect.