Satchmo SummerFest is back, celebrating the life of Louis Armstrong. It’s good to continue to call attention to the genius that was Armstrong, and to keep reminding the public that a native son of New Orleans was probably the most important jazzman who ever lived in terms of his influence on other musicians and on jazz music in general.

I would venture to say that many non-musicians weren’t knowledgeable about the man. I don’t need to remind OffBeat readers about him; they know. I’m glad, though, that Armstrong was brought back into the public consciousness with Ken Burns’ documentary Jazz, which was broadcast around the same time as the very first Satchmo SummerFest. Wynton Marsalis really gave Pops his props in that series, and the cult of Armstrong has grown stronger and more vibrant since then. It’s a pleasure to continue to work with this event and to welcome the many visitors from around the world who love Armstrong and New Orleans jazz.

This issue also commemorates the anniversary of the tragedy of Hurricane Katrina. On August 29, 2005, New Orleans changed forever. I’m proud of what our staff, writers and photographers have been able to accomplish, despite the many hardships many of us have had to endure. I’m hopeful because even though so many of our friends, families and business friends were beaten down and discouraged, they managed to pick themselves up and keep on going. But a few never recovered. Some have passed away. Some moved away from New Orleans because they had to, and stayed; others moved and made their way back after being “deported” to places all over the U.S. against their will.

Our business was devastated. Our home was severely damaged. My mother, who was deathly sick during Katrina, survived, but lost everything. When she left the hospital, six weeks after the storm, she literally had the clothes on her back. But I cannot fully appreciate what it was like to have my home, possessions and all traces of my family history destroyed by the flood. Or what is was like to have to fight to survive in the attic of a house in 95-degree heat. Or wade through filthy water or waiting to be rescued from the Superdome, or a highway—with no food, water, shade or bathrooms. Or not to know what happened to my family and friends, or to have a loved one die in front of my eyes because there was no medical care.

What the people in this city went through is unfathomable to people who didn’t experience it. Anyone who survived Katrina should be awarded a medal, deep respect and get free psychiatric care for the rest of their lives, because I can tell you, brother: we all have PTSD. We all suffered. We’re scarred for life. But we are survivors, and we’ll fight to the death to keep New Orleans alive. But we have hope. It’s true: what didn’t kill us has made us all stronger. Vive New Orleans!