The bloodsuckers are descending on New Orleans. Our “leaders” are playing politics as usual. Companies involved in the rebuilding would rather hire migrant workers with few rights and no power than give an Orleanian a fair shake. A levee system to protect us from a Category 5 storm isn’t even on the table. Restore the wetlands? Hardee-harhar! And FEMA just sent the state a bill for $4 billion.

No wonder you’re pissed off enough to exile yourself to Austin.

I was not at all surprised when I read that last bit of news at the Dallas paper online, just a bit heartbroken:

I had just heard that one of my best friends, a 3rd or 4th generation Orleanian was leaving town.

Another man done gone.

Yet, still, it was a very “Cyril” thing to do.

You always were the angry young Neville.

A righteous anger.

On message.

The message of the Nevilles and the All Stars.

Praise of brotherhood  and freedom.

Anger at injustice and stupidity.

If you feel you can’t get the respect you are due in New Orleans, then so much more an indictment of our failures.

And, if you must, live long and prosper in Austin.

Yet...I can’t imagine New Orleans without your voice.

Not just your singing voice.

“Fiyo on the Prairie”  just ain’t the same tune.

With all the s--- going down, this still may be are best shot, and maybe our last shot, to make the Big Easy live up to our dreams.

Maybe those people who live in the gated communities of their little minds have gone too far this time.

They’ve put their cards on the table for all to see.

Four of a kind.

 Heartlessness. Greed. Corruption. Ignorance.

And people are angry.

White and Black. 

Uptown and downtown.

A grassroots movement is stirring.

Look at common ground in the 9th.

And New Orleans and the Nevilles have a lot of friends in the world.

And they’re watching.

And waiting.

To hear our voices rise.

Come back to New Orleans, Cyril.

Raise your voice.

Be one of our leaders.

(Look what Martha Reeves is trying to do in Detroit.)

Don’t give up on us.