2006年NPR美国国家公共电台九月-My Home Is New Orleans (2'48")

（单词翻译）

I believe in attachment¹ to place. I believe that watermarks fade, tears dry and lives mend.

A year after the flood, the nation is remembering Hurricane Katrina. And some of us, whether labeled "displaced," "evacuated²" or "back home," will wonder if we still believe. We will wonder -- sitting on our porches, in our bar rooms and in our gutted³ homes -- if we still should believe.

When I left New Orleans, I found myself, like thousands of displaced Gulf⁴ Coast residents, living on the generosity⁵ of others. People opened their homes to me. In some ways, life was easier. I'd almost forgotten how tough it is to live in New Orleans. In Chicago I was offered jobs that pay three times more than anything I could make in New Orleans. I thought about moving: Seattle, Anchorage, New York, Key West, Tucson and everywhere in between. But looking at a map spread on a kitchen table in Chicago I already knew. My home is New Orleans... still.

I moved back into an apartment uptown in the Twelfth Ward⁶ -- on the third floor this time. I'm a little paranoid about flooding. But now I can really hear the foghorns⁷ of the ships on the river.

Life in New Orleans is hard nowadays. I work for the Louisiana Family Recovery Corps⁸ and the mental health scene is not good: Depression is rampant⁹. Suicides and substance abuse have been on the rise since Katrina.

I'm also back bartending and, mixed in with the grief, I can still feel the pulse here. We live the best we can. It's like says, "Man, we just trying to get back to abnormal!"

I believe the soul of this place cannot easily be destroyed by wind and rain. I believe the music here will live and people will continue to dance. I believe in "Darlin'" and "Baby." I believe in "Where 'yat?" and "Makin' groceries." I believe in neighborhoods where Mardi Gras Indians sew beaded costumes, kids practice trumpet¹⁰ in the streets and recipes for okra provide conversation for an entire afternoon.

My family asked me why I wanted to return to New Orleans. "Why do you want to live somewhere where garbage is piled up, rents have doubled, there are no jobs and houses are filled with black mold? Is it safe? Is it healthy?" They ask if New Orleans is still worth it. I don't have an answer to satisfy them; I can't really even give myself an answer. I keep hearing Louis Armstrong saying, "Man, if ya gotta ask, you'll never know."

I'm just 26, my clothes can all fit in a backpack, social work and a 65-pound bulldog. I could move anywhere at all, but I believe in this place. I believe I belong here. As hard as it is to live in New Orleans now, it's even harder to imagine living in anywhere else.
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gutted
seriously damaged or completely destroyed
We drove slowly past the gutted buildings.
Anchorage
安克雷奇(美国阿拉斯加州南部的港口城市)
foghorn
a loud horn on a ship, used in fog to warn other ships of its position
okra
[植]黄秋葵, 秋葵荚
bulldog
a powerful dog with a large head, a short neck, and short thick legs
牛头犬