A third bout of COVID-19 in mid-December 2022 thwarted this editor’s grand plan to spend what promised to be a short but sweet holiday getaway in New Orleans, the city where, many generations ago, his ancestors began their journey in this land that—back then, and certainly to them—was truly a new world.
Given the tumultuous global landscape since 2020, there was a particular urgency to get back there this year, but the third round of COVID was the worst yet. Despite the misery of the preceding infections, this one brought hallucinations, days of immobility, and, regularly, an inability to speak, understand, or string together a single coherent thought. If leaving the prison of the bed was impossible, hope of travel became a delusional dream confiscated and locked away in a cell to which a key no longer existed.
Finding yourself at what you legitimately believe might be death’s cold door is a tricky undertaking. You’re faced with flashbacks and reflections, memories of things that might have occurred or were merely fever-induced. Most of all, you face decisions. Do you let go and simply walk through? Or do you resolve to find something tethering you to survival.
Mano a terra
Long before New Orleans’ March 1891 lynching massacre of 11 Sicilians, my great-great grandparents’ family had relocated west of the city, where, as sharecroppers, they and previously enslaved persons worked, lived, and formed new families together before slowly migrating back into New Orleans, west again to Louisiana bayou lands, and finally, to Texas. But leaving a land—any land—doesn’t necessarily mean the land leaves you. In my ancestors’ case, that applied to Sicily as much as it did Louisiana.
My great grandmother always said Sicily was Persephone’s Island because it’s where she was stolen into the underworld to become its queen, and as such, its descendants were her children, no matter where they were. Regardless of the dilemma you found yourself in, she would say: “She’s always there for you. Tutto quello che devi fare è mettere la mano a terra per trovarla.” [All you need do is put your hand to land to find her.]
My grandmother used to call her mother’s proclamation superstitious swamp gibberish, but something of it always resonated with me, and in the throes of Round 3 COVID-19, even more so. I made my way to the backyard on Dec. 31. There, in the dank, sweaty drizzle, I knelt amid the brown-running rot of fresh-dead banana trees to dig. The soil felt like the cold of mortuary marble in the centuries-shaded crypts of New Orlean’s St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 that, for a third year, I again would miss visiting.
As the rain picked up and the sky grew darker, I kept my palm pressed to earth, hand to land. Closing my eyes, feeling the soft pummeling of drops against their lids, I felt better, not as lost…somehow, more grounded.
Stories to tell
For many reasons, 2022 was a hard one for this editor, personally and professionally. Even amid immense gratitude for receiving the Software & Information Industry Association’s annual Timothy White Award recognizing “extraordinary courage, integrity, and passion” in tackling a controversial issue, a gnawing sense of purposelessness grew.
But whether it was Persephone’s hand that reached out to mine that afternoon or simply knowing mobility again was possible, something whispered that there was still more to do. There are a great many of our industry’s stories still waiting to be told. The telling leads to awareness, and with awareness, comes improvement.
So, here’s to a year of continued digging, continued telling, and at our best, continued improving. Hand to land, editor to reader, best wishes for a prosperous and enlightening New Year.
Robert Brelsford | Downstream Editor
Robert Brelsford joined Oil & Gas Journal in October 2013 as downstream technology editor after 8 years as a crude oil price and news reporter on spot crude transactions at the US Gulf Coast, West Coast, Canadian, and Latin American markets. He holds a BA (2000) in English from Rice University and an MS (2003) in education and social policy from Northwestern University.
