New Orleans

On my first night of my college freshmen orientation I meant and fell madly in lust with this Greek God named Michael Levvit. He had this great opening line. He heard I was a Newspaper woman, he was starting a new department on campus called OVO, and wanted me as a writer.

 

Looking back my advisor probably sent him to me to make sure I adjusted to college life. Four years later and my putting off basic math 5 semesters in a row, I'm sure she regretted that, I may have adjusted a little too well. Who knew you weren't supposed to plan your classes around extra curricular activities.

 

Long story short, I soon learned OVO stands for Office of Volunteering Opportunities. And Michael could sell an Armanti Suit to a nudist. For two years I practically lived in that office. It was the first place in my "new life" that I felt I belonged.

 

I wish I could say I did great things but I probably didn't. I ate the cold pizza that always seemed to be in the refrigerator and I wrote a weekly column about other people doing great things, usually Michael was behind it. Michael Levvit died tragically in October of 1992.

 

In my life, I probably made four big ass life alternating mistakes. I'd say trying to be born feet first was kinda dumb… can you say permanently brain damaged? Another was, the week after Michael died I resigned from my column at OVO. And I "moved" out. I know he'd wanted me to keep spreading the word about volunteering but I just couldn't imagine going in the office without getting my daily bear hug.

 

There's nothing I can say about New Orleans. I grieve as a human being. And I grieve personally as we are just now learning what my family members have lost. Michael has been on my mind because he wanted to save the world. If I know him, by now he probably would have rented a canoe and paddled the streets of New Orleans, saving one family at a time.

 

I wondered what he'd tell me to do. Would he tell me to go to New Orleans and rent a canoe? Hell no. Although he'd probably get a good laugh at the thought of me trying to paddle straight. Through our two year earth journey, he became an overprotective big brother so that's definitely out. Michael would tell me to try to donate a little to the Red Cross. http://www.redcross.org/ . Michael would tell me to donate can goods to the food pantry. And Michael would tell me to write something, no matter how insignificant it seems to be…