Surrealism isn't just found in television shows, newspaper comic strips, or art. Real life can seem a bit surreal at times. I used to always find myself wondering, pondering. Staring and thinking as if there were a large abyss filled entirely of my every thought that my eyes just had to catch a glimpse at. My mother often times told me how strange life is and how it'll seem to become more normal with age. I never found it to.
It was April 2nd, 1936. I was almost at the age of 11 years old, if I remember correctly. I followed the dusk of the sun onto the sidewalk into the outskirts of the booming city. There I was, whether I knew it or not, right at the starting point of Esther Avenue. I recall throughout my childhood, children and their excitable talks of Esther Vitiosus. Esther had romantic relations with a man of the name Edward Lewis. Edward kept a steady job as a prison guard. He and Esther met upon the imprisonment of Esther. They lived during the early 1850s. At the time women did not work. They did work such as house work but they didn't obtain any public jobs. Esther was a loud person. I don't mean she talked loud because she was actually quite quiet when she spoke, I mean that when needed, she spoke her mind. Esther wore loud colors and ensembles; swirls of magenta and yellow scarfs, diamonds and faux fur galore.
Esther was arrested in 1854. During the wide spread of the yellow fever, Esther caught the virus. The people in most areas had difficulties handling the people who have fallen ill. Louisiana state officials were ordered to lock up any sickly individuals in damp, unvented, filthy cells. This was done with good intent, to stop the spread of the virus but it ultimately killed more people than save. Edward was in charge of keeping watch on the cell that Esther stayed in. Over the few weeks they bonded and some say they fell for each other. A month went by and Esther began to feel more so rage than sadness at that point.
All fear left her body, she wanted to leave that prison that night. The idea of leaving made her smile again. One night Esther told Edward her plan of escape. With Edward's keys, Esther escaped her cell and let any other injustice counts of imprisonment go as well. She and the other ill prisoners left the facility. Esther left the building shouting her now famous words "We are not the source of evil, the virus is the killer. Don't lock us up, give us medicine!" , as the guards raced after her.
The prison is located on the block of what is now Esther Street. I seemed to always think of her story when I biked pass the street weekly. This time I actually turned the corner and went down the legendary road. I tried to imagine the old fashioned people walking around during the evening with their fancy attire and going to the Brunch Interlude Cafe that has stood strong on that block since Esther's time. I stumbled over the muddy curb and stood in front of The New Orleans Prison. I stared at its rusty exterior and thought, Esther outlived that building. Her name is still spoken while the building hasn't seen a soul in decades. I wished that one day my name would out live any object of construction, any immortal cartoon character. The only thing was that I didn't do anything extraordinary as Esther did, I was an ordinary being.
I got home that evening, with a lot of mixed feelings; Happiness for Esther's happy ending but an almost envious feeling towards her bravery. I opened up the blocky front door of our house and walked inside. I set down my helmet for my bike which at that point I threw in front of the garage. Almost like a magnet, I scurried towards the backyard, to the tree. I sat down in the brown muddy grass next to a few hardworking ants and their hills. I told Esther's story to the tree. I knew my mother wasn't home, I didn't have false hope that time. I wasn't going to ignore clear placed reality in order to imagine something unrealistic to make myself happy for about 5 seconds of my life. That was false happiness, I wasn't going to do it anymore. Instead, I told my life to something I knew couldn't drive away on a erans run or have to work late hours. I started off telling the tree about Esther Street. I was soon interrupted by a spacious, noise of nature.
YOU ARE READING
The Whereabouts of Arthur
AdventureCarter Grate must share the physical, emotional and financial pain that his mother suffers during the Great Depression. As a young timid child, Carter has no one to tell his troubles to. Carter forms a friendship with a tree in his backyard; whom he...