How do you fix this?

Over and over, throughout the past 8 or 9 years, I went to New Orleans when I was broken beyond repair. The first time was when I was burnt out in my ad agency job and trying to drub up some hope that my performing days weren't over. I went to Jazzfest the year my band blew up in the middle of making a record, when I thought my music was gone. I saw the Nevilles, George Porter, Dr. John, Bobby Blue Bland, Taj Mahal and Ray Charles in one day and that was good enough medicine for anybody. I long to go whenever my spine needs unkinking (which is frequent), whenever I get entirely too uptight (even more frequent), when I need to dance, when I need to wander spooky streets and be a shadow, when I need a parade for one person in second-line time. Now the lovely NOLA is broken and I wish I could fix something. I can't even really do much to help from here, being hugely pregnant and sleep-deprived and hot and worn out. M tells me to stay away from the news because I'm having a rough enough time sleeping, but I can't help it. I obsessively check the Times Picayune online. I turn on CNN, and get mad when they babble on and on about looting (because, hello? If I were stuck in a flood with no food, water or A/C, you can bet I'm stealing some shit). I get mad that nobody ever planned to get the poor folks out, irked at our classic American bravado that says nothing bad will ever happen here, so why plan for the worst-case scenario? (HInt: Put a woman in charge. We always plan for the worst-case scenario.) Ultimately, I know that fatalistic/optimistic/surrealistic New Orleans spirit will survive somehow. They found Fats Domino, by the way. But I do know what it means to miss New Orleans, and I need to hear some Rebirth Brass Band right about now. I hope the benefit concert on Friday features all of the good ol' favorites, and not just MTV/CMT dorks. WIth Marsalis in charge, I have hopes. We need a little Louis Armstrong, stat.