I googled my house again today. My previous house. The one we used to live in. Until 2005.
I zoomed in until I could see the fallen tree in the backyard, and the play gym my daughter loved to climb on, and my white Corolla in the driveway.
None of those things are there anymore. Ruined by floodwater then demolished and carted away by demolition workers, they exist only in memory and in pictures.
Google Earth keeps them fresh for me.
I don't know why I do it, but every now and then I like to google my house to see it again. It makes me feel sad, and regretful, and happy, and proud. All these emotions assault me, they wash over me like the rising tide of flood water certainly flowed over and through my neighborhood.
One of these days I'm going to zoom in on Google Earth, and instead of brown, dead lawns and lifeless streets I'll see vacant lots and greenery. One of these days the numbing, rampant destruction will fade from view. One day, I'll stop being sad about what happened to me, my family, my friends, my city, and my nation when the floodwalls failed.
Or not.
Today, I have a "new" house in Faubourg St. John. I have new furniture and new clothes. I still work at the same place, but I have a new job and a new car. Almost five years later and a lot has changed. I've changed. A lot of that change is good.
But I keep going looking back.
There's a new drama premiering this weekend that takes place New Orleans, and I'm eagerly anticipating it. Because the story starts just a few weeks after Katrina, New Orleans is going to look brown and lifeless--just like those aerial photos of my old house I keep looking at.
I'm hoping "Treme" can get it right. New Orleans took one monumental beating in 2005, some saying the city would not survive. Many souls were lost, but we did not lose our soul. Houses were made unlivable, but we didn't lose our sense of home. The darkest hours this city probably ever saw could not extinguish the light of hope from its citizens.
New Orleans survived. Against all opponents--weather, politics, hatred, apathy and greed just to name a few--we persevered.
It's healthy to look back. We need to know where we've been to understand where we're going. Even after all the ruined houses are demolished or repaired, after all the flood-borne damage and blemishes are removed and Google Earth loads new photos of New Orleans, we will still remember.
But I hope we will remember not only the failures, but the incredible strength of humanity on display in New Orleans in 2005 and since.
That's the story "Treme" needs to tell. That's the story that needs to be told.
Thursday, April 08, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Common New Orleans
We're uncomfortable with each other. We sit elbow to elbow and make great effort to not make eye contact. If we do dare look at the person next to us, we do so with utmost stealth, in terror of getting caught looking. We dare not speak to the strangers next to us because that might be rude, or we might unleash a bore, a religious zealot, or someone otherwise totally unlike us.
Flying coach class across America, our knees often touch but our lives never intersect.
I don't have this difficulty with strangers in New Orleans. At the grocery, in restaurants, going about my daily business, I talk to people. And they seem to not mind it from what I can tell.
We may have never met, but we have so much in common. New Orleans is a small town and we're all connected in crime, weather, celebrations and politics. Because New Orleans has its own culture, its own unique food, holidays and traditions, we have shared experiences like no other city in America I know of.
At the seminar I attended in Seattle this week, I was seated at a table surrounded by complete strangers. People I've never met, worked with, or even known existed before we sat next to each other that first day. But the connections were easy. The introductions were natural and friendly.
Even though we had never met, we knew before a word was spoken that we had common interests. We all worked for the Federal government. We were all at a point in our careers that we were all participating in the same seminar.
That's all it takes--one mutually recognized commonality.
We have that in New Orleans. Nobody is ever really a stranger here. It's one of the reasons I love coming home.
Flying coach class across America, our knees often touch but our lives never intersect.
I don't have this difficulty with strangers in New Orleans. At the grocery, in restaurants, going about my daily business, I talk to people. And they seem to not mind it from what I can tell.
We may have never met, but we have so much in common. New Orleans is a small town and we're all connected in crime, weather, celebrations and politics. Because New Orleans has its own culture, its own unique food, holidays and traditions, we have shared experiences like no other city in America I know of.
At the seminar I attended in Seattle this week, I was seated at a table surrounded by complete strangers. People I've never met, worked with, or even known existed before we sat next to each other that first day. But the connections were easy. The introductions were natural and friendly.
Even though we had never met, we knew before a word was spoken that we had common interests. We all worked for the Federal government. We were all at a point in our careers that we were all participating in the same seminar.
That's all it takes--one mutually recognized commonality.
We have that in New Orleans. Nobody is ever really a stranger here. It's one of the reasons I love coming home.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Says you!
How many of us have heard children arguing:
Nu uh! Yeah Huh! Nu uh! Yeah Huh! Nu uh! Yeah Huh! Nu uh! Yeah Huh!
It's as pointless as it is annoying. Sadly, a lot of what I hear on talk radio and on certain Internet discussion boards is exactly like this.
Americans seem to have totally lost their grip with objective reality. Scientific facts are now up for debate. Historical facts are questioned ad nauseam, while conspiracy theories are discussed as if they have the same standing as historical facts.
Leonard Pitts, Jr. recently relayed such an encounter with a reader.* Pitts notes that, "We are a people estranged from critical thinking, divorced from logic, alienated from even objective truth." His observations echo Susan Jacoby's recent book, "The Age of American Unreason."
*Note: I first read this editorial in The Times-Picayune but could not find it posted on their web page.
Nu uh! Yeah Huh! Nu uh! Yeah Huh! Nu uh! Yeah Huh! Nu uh! Yeah Huh!
It's as pointless as it is annoying. Sadly, a lot of what I hear on talk radio and on certain Internet discussion boards is exactly like this.
Americans seem to have totally lost their grip with objective reality. Scientific facts are now up for debate. Historical facts are questioned ad nauseam, while conspiracy theories are discussed as if they have the same standing as historical facts.
Leonard Pitts, Jr. recently relayed such an encounter with a reader.* Pitts notes that, "We are a people estranged from critical thinking, divorced from logic, alienated from even objective truth." His observations echo Susan Jacoby's recent book, "The Age of American Unreason."
On more than one occasion I have been asked if I "believe" in evolution or if I "believe" in global warming, as if the validity of such scientific facts relied at all upon faith.
I made the mistake of listening to the "Walton and Johnson" show one morning and received a hearty dose of modern post-intellectualism. In what is advertised to be a humorous program, the hosts relentlessly bashed all things liberal and scientific like snarky school boys blurting out insults about their romantic rivals.
Facts and information from reputable sources were absent. Instead, the program mostly consisted of reading odd news items and then drawing outrageous conclusions about how the story proved either the validity of their own political, social and economic views or discredited the views of those who thought differently. There was a lot of back and forth, "Yeah, that's right," and, "See, that's what we've been saying."
I guess I understand why they left New Orleans years ago to join their contrarian comrades in Houston. What is disturbing is that they are popular enough to be heard beyond Texas and in markets such as New Orleans. Does anyone find their program funny? Are there really enough shallow-thinking, gullible listeners to sustain the program? The answer to the second question is obviously yes.
One thing upon which I did find I could agree with Walton and Johnson: America appears to be on the decline. And these guys are a perfect example of why.
*Note: I first read this editorial in The Times-Picayune but could not find it posted on their web page.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Touching Saints victory
You're probably not supposed to touch it. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's bad for it if you do.
But it seems that everyone who gets an opportunity does in fact touch it--and they touch it as much as they can.
I don't know what other teams and coaches have done with the Lombardi Trophy, but I've certainly never seen anyone before the Saints actually encourage fans to rub their unwashed hands over it. Surely the smooth sterling silver football on a pedestal was not meant to be so handled. Yet that's what the Saints have been doing with it ever since a little after 9pm Sunday night.
Not just hold it high for all to see, mind you. Not just carry it around or put on public display. No sir. After the festivities had ended at the Super Bowl, Coach Sean Payton made a point to bring the trophy over to the sideline where Saints fans were gathered. They leaned over the railing and he held up that symbol of victory so that they could all touch it.
He did it again when the team returned to New Orleans the next day. Coach Payton held the most beautiful reward in the entire football universe up through the sun roof of his car. Fans lining the road reached out to touch it, like religious pilgrims yearning to touch the hem of a holy man's robe.
That's perfectly fitting in my opinion.
Everyone in the Saints organization has consistently maintained that the victory in Super Bowl XLIV belongs to the fans. It's our team, and our trophy. We paid for it--not just in public support for the Superdome, the Saints training facility and the annual support from the state treasury. We paid for it in years of tickets and logo shirts and "Dome Foam.".
Even more than that, we paid for it with loyalty, hope and perseverance. We paid for it in our own blood, toil, tears and sweat. So much toil. So many tears.
All paid off now. All paid off in the simple elegance of a 22-inch tall, 7-pound trophy.
By the time the Lombardi Trophy is finally positioned in a glass case somewhere for long-term display, that new trophy will probably not look so new anymore. In fact, don’t' be surprised if it looks about as battered and tested as a trophy of at least 43 years of age. And wouldn't that be appropriate?
But it seems that everyone who gets an opportunity does in fact touch it--and they touch it as much as they can.
I don't know what other teams and coaches have done with the Lombardi Trophy, but I've certainly never seen anyone before the Saints actually encourage fans to rub their unwashed hands over it. Surely the smooth sterling silver football on a pedestal was not meant to be so handled. Yet that's what the Saints have been doing with it ever since a little after 9pm Sunday night.
Not just hold it high for all to see, mind you. Not just carry it around or put on public display. No sir. After the festivities had ended at the Super Bowl, Coach Sean Payton made a point to bring the trophy over to the sideline where Saints fans were gathered. They leaned over the railing and he held up that symbol of victory so that they could all touch it.
He did it again when the team returned to New Orleans the next day. Coach Payton held the most beautiful reward in the entire football universe up through the sun roof of his car. Fans lining the road reached out to touch it, like religious pilgrims yearning to touch the hem of a holy man's robe.
That's perfectly fitting in my opinion.
Everyone in the Saints organization has consistently maintained that the victory in Super Bowl XLIV belongs to the fans. It's our team, and our trophy. We paid for it--not just in public support for the Superdome, the Saints training facility and the annual support from the state treasury. We paid for it in years of tickets and logo shirts and "Dome Foam.".
Even more than that, we paid for it with loyalty, hope and perseverance. We paid for it in our own blood, toil, tears and sweat. So much toil. So many tears.
All paid off now. All paid off in the simple elegance of a 22-inch tall, 7-pound trophy.
By the time the Lombardi Trophy is finally positioned in a glass case somewhere for long-term display, that new trophy will probably not look so new anymore. In fact, don’t' be surprised if it looks about as battered and tested as a trophy of at least 43 years of age. And wouldn't that be appropriate?
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
A portfolio of responses
As we prepare to cross that imaginary line from 2009 into 2010, here's a question worth reflection: What are YOU doing to reduce your vulnerability to flooding?
Long before New Orleans filled with water, back when the name "Katrina" was not associated with the ugly images of human despair and physical destruction, our cousins across the pond were worried about flooding.
No, not the Dutch. This time I'm talking about the Brits.
And they weren't just worrying--they have been continuously reassessing the threats and developing appropriate responses. I talked briefly about this in my presentation during the Rising Tide conference in 2007.
The British, you may or may not know, have been fighting coastal and river flooding for hundreds of years. Their signature project is the Thames Barrier, a set of gates which protects London from storm surges pushing up the river into the city of 7.5 million. The target level of protection is 0.1% (1-in-1,000 chance per year).
The Thames Barrier ranks as the second largest flood protection barrier in the world. London becomes more vulnerable to inundation each year because of sea level rise and the on-going tectonic tilting of the ancient island. The current project is expected to protect the city only until about the year 2030.
Studies are already underway to decide what to do to protect the city beyond 2030. An April 2004 report from the UK's Foresight study group lays out the problem and initiates the dialogue for finding the solution. Here are some of the thoughts from the "Future Flooding" report published more than a year before Hurricane Katrina:
"Flood defences protect not only people and private properties, but also vital amenities and public assets, including hospitals, the emergency services, schools, municipal buildings and the transport infrastructure. Disruption of these by flooding can have major knock-on effects for business and society."
We saw this in the spot shortages of gasoline and the spike in prices in the weeks after Katrina. We are still feeling this now as the New Orleans area labors with a limited support system of hospitals and schools.
"The human cost of flooding cannot be measured by statistics alone… There will be mental-health consequences. Besides the considerable stress of extensive damage, the threat of repeat flooding, coupled with the possible withdrawal of insurance cover can make properties unsaleable, and cause long-term depression in the victims."
How many of us can say, "Been there, done that"? The effects of flooding linger for years after the water has gone down.
"The socially disadvantaged will be hardest hit. The poor are less able to afford flooding insurance and less able to pay for expensive repairs. People who are ill or who have disabilities will be more vulnerable to the immediate hazard of a flood and to health risks due to polluted floodwaters."
In fact statistics show that the elderly join the poor in their vulnerability. The death rate of elderly was many times that of younger people trapped in the flood.
"Many of the drivers that could have the most impact are also the most uncertain. Some of this uncertainty relates to scientific understanding – for example, uncertainties in how to model the climate. However, other sources of uncertainty are inescapable – such as the extent to which the international community will succeed in reducing greenhouse-gas emissions. It is therefore important to develop policies that can cope with a wide range of possible futures, and which can respond flexibly to an evolving world."
Flexibility? Good luck. Neither the people nor government at any level seem to be ready to be flexible. Worse, the focus remains on the effects of hurricanes and their devastation. When are we going to address the causes and ways to prevent devastation?
"It will be important to manage the layout and functioning of our cities so they can adapt to future changes in rainfall patterns. Approaches such as the creation of new green corridors and the maintenance of existing undeveloped spaces (including brownfield) would provide ‘safety valves’ for the storage and passage of floodwaters when the drainage networks become overloaded. They could also bring substantial sustainability benefits relating to the aesthetic and amenity value of water in towns. However, such schemes might require the abandonment of parts of existing urban areas, with councils and other agencies buying up properties to create new open areas."
Anybody remember the Bring New Orleans Back plan? The City Council declared it DEAD ON ARRIVAL. The BNOB plan had the nerve to recommend selective rebuilding and rehabitation of the city, a perfectly logical, practical and effective way to deal with the situation. Which is why it was murdered on the steps of City Hall by a mob of politicians with daggers.
But the most compelling part of the report for me is the constant theme that there is no single solution. There is no one course of action that will mitigate all risks. In fact, there is no combination of actions that can mitigate all risks. And to make the task more difficult, some of the factors are clouded in uncertainty, so actions need to be scalable and there need to be contingency actions ready to implement if the need arises.
The authors of this report call for "a portfolio of responses."
What this means is simply that no single medicine will provide the cure. Just as a doctor might prescribe medicine, exercise and a change of diet for common ailments, we will need a multi-faceted program to keep our coastal areas healthy.
Levees, walls and gates are the obvious measures we can employ. They can provide a great deal of protection for smaller storms.
But it can't stop there.
We need to be thinking about multiple lines of levee defences with areas of storage in between. We need to be thinking about moving critical infrastructure out of harm's way. We need to be thinking about elevating homes and businesses that remain in harm's way. And we need to be planning a total evacuation when the "big one" comes calling.
We need a portfolio of responses.
As we enter the new year, this is certainly worth some thought. The levees and floodwalls are being redesigned and rebuilt to reduce our vulnerability to flooding. What is the State of Louisiana doing? What is the City of New Orleans doing?
What are YOU doing to reduce your vulnerability to flooding?
Long before New Orleans filled with water, back when the name "Katrina" was not associated with the ugly images of human despair and physical destruction, our cousins across the pond were worried about flooding.
No, not the Dutch. This time I'm talking about the Brits.
And they weren't just worrying--they have been continuously reassessing the threats and developing appropriate responses. I talked briefly about this in my presentation during the Rising Tide conference in 2007.
The British, you may or may not know, have been fighting coastal and river flooding for hundreds of years. Their signature project is the Thames Barrier, a set of gates which protects London from storm surges pushing up the river into the city of 7.5 million. The target level of protection is 0.1% (1-in-1,000 chance per year).
The Thames Barrier ranks as the second largest flood protection barrier in the world. London becomes more vulnerable to inundation each year because of sea level rise and the on-going tectonic tilting of the ancient island. The current project is expected to protect the city only until about the year 2030.
Studies are already underway to decide what to do to protect the city beyond 2030. An April 2004 report from the UK's Foresight study group lays out the problem and initiates the dialogue for finding the solution. Here are some of the thoughts from the "Future Flooding" report published more than a year before Hurricane Katrina:
"Flood defences protect not only people and private properties, but also vital amenities and public assets, including hospitals, the emergency services, schools, municipal buildings and the transport infrastructure. Disruption of these by flooding can have major knock-on effects for business and society."
We saw this in the spot shortages of gasoline and the spike in prices in the weeks after Katrina. We are still feeling this now as the New Orleans area labors with a limited support system of hospitals and schools.
"The human cost of flooding cannot be measured by statistics alone… There will be mental-health consequences. Besides the considerable stress of extensive damage, the threat of repeat flooding, coupled with the possible withdrawal of insurance cover can make properties unsaleable, and cause long-term depression in the victims."
How many of us can say, "Been there, done that"? The effects of flooding linger for years after the water has gone down.
"The socially disadvantaged will be hardest hit. The poor are less able to afford flooding insurance and less able to pay for expensive repairs. People who are ill or who have disabilities will be more vulnerable to the immediate hazard of a flood and to health risks due to polluted floodwaters."
In fact statistics show that the elderly join the poor in their vulnerability. The death rate of elderly was many times that of younger people trapped in the flood.
"Many of the drivers that could have the most impact are also the most uncertain. Some of this uncertainty relates to scientific understanding – for example, uncertainties in how to model the climate. However, other sources of uncertainty are inescapable – such as the extent to which the international community will succeed in reducing greenhouse-gas emissions. It is therefore important to develop policies that can cope with a wide range of possible futures, and which can respond flexibly to an evolving world."
Flexibility? Good luck. Neither the people nor government at any level seem to be ready to be flexible. Worse, the focus remains on the effects of hurricanes and their devastation. When are we going to address the causes and ways to prevent devastation?
"It will be important to manage the layout and functioning of our cities so they can adapt to future changes in rainfall patterns. Approaches such as the creation of new green corridors and the maintenance of existing undeveloped spaces (including brownfield) would provide ‘safety valves’ for the storage and passage of floodwaters when the drainage networks become overloaded. They could also bring substantial sustainability benefits relating to the aesthetic and amenity value of water in towns. However, such schemes might require the abandonment of parts of existing urban areas, with councils and other agencies buying up properties to create new open areas."
Anybody remember the Bring New Orleans Back plan? The City Council declared it DEAD ON ARRIVAL. The BNOB plan had the nerve to recommend selective rebuilding and rehabitation of the city, a perfectly logical, practical and effective way to deal with the situation. Which is why it was murdered on the steps of City Hall by a mob of politicians with daggers.
But the most compelling part of the report for me is the constant theme that there is no single solution. There is no one course of action that will mitigate all risks. In fact, there is no combination of actions that can mitigate all risks. And to make the task more difficult, some of the factors are clouded in uncertainty, so actions need to be scalable and there need to be contingency actions ready to implement if the need arises.
The authors of this report call for "a portfolio of responses."
What this means is simply that no single medicine will provide the cure. Just as a doctor might prescribe medicine, exercise and a change of diet for common ailments, we will need a multi-faceted program to keep our coastal areas healthy.
Levees, walls and gates are the obvious measures we can employ. They can provide a great deal of protection for smaller storms.
But it can't stop there.
We need to be thinking about multiple lines of levee defences with areas of storage in between. We need to be thinking about moving critical infrastructure out of harm's way. We need to be thinking about elevating homes and businesses that remain in harm's way. And we need to be planning a total evacuation when the "big one" comes calling.
We need a portfolio of responses.
As we enter the new year, this is certainly worth some thought. The levees and floodwalls are being redesigned and rebuilt to reduce our vulnerability to flooding. What is the State of Louisiana doing? What is the City of New Orleans doing?
What are YOU doing to reduce your vulnerability to flooding?
Monday, December 21, 2009
The reason for the season
The sun rose this morning, right on schedule and exactly as predicted, at 6:52 a.m. Central Standard Time. It will set at 5:05 p.m., giving New Orleans a net 10 hours and 13 minutes of daylight on the day of the Winter Solstice.
If this discussion seems technical and nerdy, take that as a sign of progress. Most modern people just don't worry about the length of days so much anymore. Unless you're engaged in agrarian work or your livelihood is otherwise directly impacted by the amount of daylight, the cycle of days is just a novelty, an esoteric event of little note.
Once upon a time, the length of days was of vital importance. Shorter days and colder weather were feared because they often brought hunger and death. Superstitions arose to explain why the sun, the source of warmth and life, would seem to lose its power each year. And rituals were devised to encourage the sun's return to full strength.
Thanks to science and the work of astronomers and mathematicians over the centuries and including today, we know there is nothing magical or mystical about Winter Solstice. We know that it is just a particular moment in the ongoing journey of our Earth around Sol, our sun. We know that formulas comprehensible by any math major demonstrably predict with convincing accuracy and precision that the laws of physics apply perfectly to the motion of the planets and the pattern of seasons.
Winter Solstice used to be a time to wallow in fear and uncertainty. People wondered if the "god" of the sun would abandon us. Later we created rituals based on superstition to replace that fear with hope for rebirth. Angels and miracles assured us that the "Son" would conquer the darkness and save us.
Today, we can all but ignore the passing of the Winter Solstice, and for that we can thank science.
It's no coincidence that so many important days of the calendar all occur on or about the Winter Solstice. New Year's, Christmas and Hanukkah were all planned to coincide with this shortest day of the year. So were many other religious rituals and observances long forgotten.
But I like to remember that they all come back to this: Winter Solstice. Although it may seem blasphemous to some, it is the real "reason for the season."
If this discussion seems technical and nerdy, take that as a sign of progress. Most modern people just don't worry about the length of days so much anymore. Unless you're engaged in agrarian work or your livelihood is otherwise directly impacted by the amount of daylight, the cycle of days is just a novelty, an esoteric event of little note.
Once upon a time, the length of days was of vital importance. Shorter days and colder weather were feared because they often brought hunger and death. Superstitions arose to explain why the sun, the source of warmth and life, would seem to lose its power each year. And rituals were devised to encourage the sun's return to full strength.
Thanks to science and the work of astronomers and mathematicians over the centuries and including today, we know there is nothing magical or mystical about Winter Solstice. We know that it is just a particular moment in the ongoing journey of our Earth around Sol, our sun. We know that formulas comprehensible by any math major demonstrably predict with convincing accuracy and precision that the laws of physics apply perfectly to the motion of the planets and the pattern of seasons.
Winter Solstice used to be a time to wallow in fear and uncertainty. People wondered if the "god" of the sun would abandon us. Later we created rituals based on superstition to replace that fear with hope for rebirth. Angels and miracles assured us that the "Son" would conquer the darkness and save us.
Today, we can all but ignore the passing of the Winter Solstice, and for that we can thank science.
It's no coincidence that so many important days of the calendar all occur on or about the Winter Solstice. New Year's, Christmas and Hanukkah were all planned to coincide with this shortest day of the year. So were many other religious rituals and observances long forgotten.
But I like to remember that they all come back to this: Winter Solstice. Although it may seem blasphemous to some, it is the real "reason for the season."
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Runs with Wolves
Everyone who knows our family knows this: I run with cats, Darling Wife runs with chickens and Precious Daughter runs with wolves.
I've always been a cat person. We've had at least one cat for the past 20 years, and we've had as many as five at any one time. In 2005 we evacuated with four cats, two of which still live with us today.
Last weekend Darling Wife and I found ourselves at the mall in the middle of an SPCA Pet Adoption event. I was ready to adopt a cat right away, but it took all of five minutes for Darling Wife to commit to a sweet little grey and white tabby. We brought her home and introduced her to our two other cats, Smudge and Callie, and after a few days of perfunctory hissing and growling I predict they will be getting along just fine by New Year's Day.
Cats are not Darling Wife's first choice for pet. A city girl from birth, she has always pined for a romantic life on a farm. For many years I had her convinced that city ordinances prohibited keeping chickens. She finally looked it up herself a few years ago and discovered that keeping backyard chickens is legal within city limits. (Curse you, Internet and your easy access to information!)
And so it was three years ago we were living in a FEMA Travel Trailer on our vacant property in Gentilly and I spent several weekends building a deluxe chicken coop that Darling Wife would dub, "Poulet Chalet." When we moved to the higher ground of Esplanade Ridge, we paid movers to lift the coop up and over the fence of our new yard. Chickens, we have since learned, are not uncommon in this part of town.
Yes, we get eggs from our fowl, but eggs are not a favorite food of Precious Daughter. Being more or less obsessed with Japanese Anime nowadays, she prefers eating a big bowl of Ramen noodles with chopsticks. Precious Daughter has always been an avid reader, devouring classic books such as "Lord of the Flies" for school and "Tegami Bachi" and "Naruto" manga books for fun.
Like most teenage girls, Precious Daughter has also read the "Twilight" series of books, an angst-filled teen romance involving a depressing human girl, a brooding vampire, and a fun-loving werewolf. Fans of the series love to debate whether protagonist Bella should marry Edward the vampire or Jacob the werewolf--as if either represents any sort of happy option in the normal sense of things. Precious Daughter's loyalties are firmly in the camp of "Team Jacob," and she has a T-shirt that proudly indicates so.
It says, "I run with wolves."
I took her to see "New Moon," the latest movie installment of the series, the other night. Surprisingly, I found it a fairly entertaining movie. But perhaps most fun was experiencing it with Precious Daughter, who was openly delighted every time Jacob delivered a great line, transformed into a wolf or simply took off his shirt.
I'll leave it to the psychoanalysts of the Internet to interpret what it says about us that we love our cats, chickens and wolves, respectively, almost as much as we love each other. My only worry is that Darling Wife has hinted recently about getting a goat.
I've always been a cat person. We've had at least one cat for the past 20 years, and we've had as many as five at any one time. In 2005 we evacuated with four cats, two of which still live with us today.
Last weekend Darling Wife and I found ourselves at the mall in the middle of an SPCA Pet Adoption event. I was ready to adopt a cat right away, but it took all of five minutes for Darling Wife to commit to a sweet little grey and white tabby. We brought her home and introduced her to our two other cats, Smudge and Callie, and after a few days of perfunctory hissing and growling I predict they will be getting along just fine by New Year's Day.
Cats are not Darling Wife's first choice for pet. A city girl from birth, she has always pined for a romantic life on a farm. For many years I had her convinced that city ordinances prohibited keeping chickens. She finally looked it up herself a few years ago and discovered that keeping backyard chickens is legal within city limits. (Curse you, Internet and your easy access to information!)
And so it was three years ago we were living in a FEMA Travel Trailer on our vacant property in Gentilly and I spent several weekends building a deluxe chicken coop that Darling Wife would dub, "Poulet Chalet." When we moved to the higher ground of Esplanade Ridge, we paid movers to lift the coop up and over the fence of our new yard. Chickens, we have since learned, are not uncommon in this part of town.
Yes, we get eggs from our fowl, but eggs are not a favorite food of Precious Daughter. Being more or less obsessed with Japanese Anime nowadays, she prefers eating a big bowl of Ramen noodles with chopsticks. Precious Daughter has always been an avid reader, devouring classic books such as "Lord of the Flies" for school and "Tegami Bachi" and "Naruto" manga books for fun.
Like most teenage girls, Precious Daughter has also read the "Twilight" series of books, an angst-filled teen romance involving a depressing human girl, a brooding vampire, and a fun-loving werewolf. Fans of the series love to debate whether protagonist Bella should marry Edward the vampire or Jacob the werewolf--as if either represents any sort of happy option in the normal sense of things. Precious Daughter's loyalties are firmly in the camp of "Team Jacob," and she has a T-shirt that proudly indicates so.
It says, "I run with wolves."
I took her to see "New Moon," the latest movie installment of the series, the other night. Surprisingly, I found it a fairly entertaining movie. But perhaps most fun was experiencing it with Precious Daughter, who was openly delighted every time Jacob delivered a great line, transformed into a wolf or simply took off his shirt.
I'll leave it to the psychoanalysts of the Internet to interpret what it says about us that we love our cats, chickens and wolves, respectively, almost as much as we love each other. My only worry is that Darling Wife has hinted recently about getting a goat.
Monday, November 16, 2009
When trod upon he explodeth with a great noise
As part of her assignments in Louisiana history class this year, Precious Daughter has been reading the ruminations of Mr. Lafcadio Hearn.
Not all of his observations find a favorable audience with 13-year-olds, but one recently seems to have piqued her interest. She came home from school the other day eager to share the following passage with me.
I admit to at first being entertained by its repulsive imagery. But upon further reflection, I think I can respectably enjoy it for its good humor and style. Most of all, though, I find it leaves me with a satisfying (if oddly inspired) feeling of connection with the inhabitants of New Orleans 120 years ago.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Wednesday, October 13, 1880
THE FESTIVE
He maketh ghostly noises in the dead waste and middle of the night.
He hath a passion for the green and crimson of beautifully bound books, and after he has passed over them they look as if they had been sprinkled with a shower of vitriol.
He loveth to commit suicide by drowning himself in bowls of cream or stifling himself in other eatables or drinkables.
When trod upon he explodeth with a great noise.
In this semi-tropical climate he sometimes attaineth to the dimensions of a No. 12 shoe.
He haunteth printing offices, and fatteneth upon the contents of the editor’s paste-pot, and upon the bindings of newspaper files.
He haunteth kitchens and occasionally getteth himself baked and boiled.
Five hundred thousand means have been invented for his destruction; but none availeth.
If a house be burnt down to the ground he will momentarily disappear; but when the house is rebuilt, he cometh back again.
His virtues are these: He amuseth young kittens, who practice mouse-hunting with him. Also is the deadly enemy of the cimer lectaries. He is used for medicinal purposes.
But none care to recognize his good qualities, because of the mischievous and disgusting propensities, and all creatures wage unrelenting war against him, and nevertheless he continueth to propagate his species and to drown himself in cream.
Not all of his observations find a favorable audience with 13-year-olds, but one recently seems to have piqued her interest. She came home from school the other day eager to share the following passage with me.
I admit to at first being entertained by its repulsive imagery. But upon further reflection, I think I can respectably enjoy it for its good humor and style. Most of all, though, I find it leaves me with a satisfying (if oddly inspired) feeling of connection with the inhabitants of New Orleans 120 years ago.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Wednesday, October 13, 1880
THE FESTIVE
He maketh ghostly noises in the dead waste and middle of the night.
He hath a passion for the green and crimson of beautifully bound books, and after he has passed over them they look as if they had been sprinkled with a shower of vitriol.
He loveth to commit suicide by drowning himself in bowls of cream or stifling himself in other eatables or drinkables.
When trod upon he explodeth with a great noise.
In this semi-tropical climate he sometimes attaineth to the dimensions of a No. 12 shoe.
He haunteth printing offices, and fatteneth upon the contents of the editor’s paste-pot, and upon the bindings of newspaper files.
He haunteth kitchens and occasionally getteth himself baked and boiled.
Five hundred thousand means have been invented for his destruction; but none availeth.
If a house be burnt down to the ground he will momentarily disappear; but when the house is rebuilt, he cometh back again.
His virtues are these: He amuseth young kittens, who practice mouse-hunting with him. Also is the deadly enemy of the cimer lectaries. He is used for medicinal purposes.
But none care to recognize his good qualities, because of the mischievous and disgusting propensities, and all creatures wage unrelenting war against him, and nevertheless he continueth to propagate his species and to drown himself in cream.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
An invitation to blog
Only technically superior computer users and the most gifted writers can blog, right?
Au contraire, mes amis. Blogging is, by definition, a personal journal. You can blog for an audience of one or two, or you can blog for an audience of millions. You can keep your blog private and viewable only by yourself or family and friends, or you can open it to the blogosphere and see what happens.
If you're a blog reader and haven't yet taken the plunge into blogging yourself, here's your chance to get some sage advice to get started. The good people of Rising Tide Conference are sponsoring a free workshop, "Blogging 101: An introduction to blogging class for the utter novice." They'll give you some good advice on how to start, what to do and what to avoid, and they'll help you get plugged in to the community of NOLA Bloggers (if that's what you want).
What kind of blogger lurks in you? Wikipedia has a concise description of the various types and purposes of blogs. Even if you're on the fence, come out to the Blogging 101 workshop and find out if you're ready to stop reading and start blogging.
Event: Blogging 101: An introduction to blogging class for the utter novice.
When: Thursday, November 12, 6:30 to 8:30 pm
Where: Bridge Lounge, 1201 Magazine Street in New Olreans.
Cost: Absolutely Free
RSVP: Call 504-250-1643 or email editor@thechicory.com
See you there!
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Two tired
At 9 o'clock my Darling Wife will say, "I can hear my pillow calling."
And she means it. Try as I have over the 22 years we've been married (and even for the several years we dated), it is a rare event for her to be awake past 10 PM and about as rare as a blue moon that she'll be up after 11.
Yes, she grew up in New Orleans, a city famous in part because our bars never close. Somehow the gene that makes us able to stay up all night is not a part of her DNA.
In contrast, I used to routinely see 2 AM and sometimes saw the sunrise without having gone to sleep. I used to get a "second wind" at 10 or 11 that kept me going until the music ended or I had no more money for beer.
I'm afraid I'm not much better than my Darling Wife nowadays. I blame age and the pressures of work. I can still function on 5 hours of sleep but I find I need at least 7 to have a good day.
And so we hit the hay earlier and earlier each year. We're just too tired--or perhaps we're two tired--to stay up late.
But I'm not complaining. We have a comfortable bed and two cats who are also eager to curl up and sleep.
On cool evenings like tonight, we have a window open so I can hear the slumbering noises of New Orleans as I fall to sleep. I also hear the motorcycles and the loud car radios of those who have not yet succumbed to the onslaught of age yet.
Peace be upon them and everyone in the city tonight.
And she means it. Try as I have over the 22 years we've been married (and even for the several years we dated), it is a rare event for her to be awake past 10 PM and about as rare as a blue moon that she'll be up after 11.
Yes, she grew up in New Orleans, a city famous in part because our bars never close. Somehow the gene that makes us able to stay up all night is not a part of her DNA.
In contrast, I used to routinely see 2 AM and sometimes saw the sunrise without having gone to sleep. I used to get a "second wind" at 10 or 11 that kept me going until the music ended or I had no more money for beer.
I'm afraid I'm not much better than my Darling Wife nowadays. I blame age and the pressures of work. I can still function on 5 hours of sleep but I find I need at least 7 to have a good day.
And so we hit the hay earlier and earlier each year. We're just too tired--or perhaps we're two tired--to stay up late.
But I'm not complaining. We have a comfortable bed and two cats who are also eager to curl up and sleep.
On cool evenings like tonight, we have a window open so I can hear the slumbering noises of New Orleans as I fall to sleep. I also hear the motorcycles and the loud car radios of those who have not yet succumbed to the onslaught of age yet.
Peace be upon them and everyone in the city tonight.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
"Never again" must not fade to a whisper
In February of 2008, Senator and presidential candidate Barrack Obama visited New Orleans during his whistle-stop campaign of "Hope."
I joined my fellow NOLA Bloggers in welcoming the lanky lawman from the Land of Lincoln. But in true blogger fashion, we all nit-picked about one thing or another that was or was not said. (Mine had to do with terminology.)
As he visits New Orleans today for the first time as POTUS, here is what I would like to hear from him today: vision.
It’s a pretty straightforward proposition as I see it. As a candidate for and now incumbent president, I did not/do not expect Mr. Obama to have all the answers. I do not expect him to have all the cures.
I expect him to have vision. I expect the Chief Executive to have a concept of what he thinks this land of liberty must look like, and to communicate that idea to citizens, and to inspire us to willingly join in making that dream into reality.
When he visited here 20 months ago, Mr. Obama’s vision for New Orleans was potent: “never again,” he said.
Think about how much is said with those two small words.
“Never again.”
Not, “Next time the city is decimated.” Not, “Things are better, but it’s still very dangerous.” Not, “Let’s hope our luck holds out.”
“Never again” is a vision for action. It is a vision for prosperity and purpose. It is the vision we need in New Orleans, in coastal Louisiana, and in a nation with so many basic needs that are ignored for convenience.
No, Mr. Obama will not grab a shovel and start digging the clay to fortify our levees. He will not pull the levers on the pile-driving rig to push sheet pile into the ground. He won’t even pull out his Diner’s Club card and pay for the astounding amount of work that needs to be done to protect our great city.
What I would hope to hear from the president today when he visits New Orleans is a clear statement of his vision.
Another president, speaking about another daunting goal, articulated his vision by acknowledging the difficulty in achieving the goals he had set out for the nation. He told Americans quite plainly that we would strive for lofty goals, "not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too."
In his own words, Mr. Obama said, “The words ‘never again’ - spoken so often in those weeks after Katrina - must not fade to a whisper.”
Since ascending to the office, the president has not to my knowledge repeated those words or anything else that establishes his vision for New Orleans.
That’s what we need from Mr. Obama today.
I joined my fellow NOLA Bloggers in welcoming the lanky lawman from the Land of Lincoln. But in true blogger fashion, we all nit-picked about one thing or another that was or was not said. (Mine had to do with terminology.)
As he visits New Orleans today for the first time as POTUS, here is what I would like to hear from him today: vision.
It’s a pretty straightforward proposition as I see it. As a candidate for and now incumbent president, I did not/do not expect Mr. Obama to have all the answers. I do not expect him to have all the cures.
I expect him to have vision. I expect the Chief Executive to have a concept of what he thinks this land of liberty must look like, and to communicate that idea to citizens, and to inspire us to willingly join in making that dream into reality.
When he visited here 20 months ago, Mr. Obama’s vision for New Orleans was potent: “never again,” he said.
Think about how much is said with those two small words.
“Never again.”
Not, “Next time the city is decimated.” Not, “Things are better, but it’s still very dangerous.” Not, “Let’s hope our luck holds out.”
“Never again” is a vision for action. It is a vision for prosperity and purpose. It is the vision we need in New Orleans, in coastal Louisiana, and in a nation with so many basic needs that are ignored for convenience.
No, Mr. Obama will not grab a shovel and start digging the clay to fortify our levees. He will not pull the levers on the pile-driving rig to push sheet pile into the ground. He won’t even pull out his Diner’s Club card and pay for the astounding amount of work that needs to be done to protect our great city.
What I would hope to hear from the president today when he visits New Orleans is a clear statement of his vision.
Another president, speaking about another daunting goal, articulated his vision by acknowledging the difficulty in achieving the goals he had set out for the nation. He told Americans quite plainly that we would strive for lofty goals, "not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too."
In his own words, Mr. Obama said, “The words ‘never again’ - spoken so often in those weeks after Katrina - must not fade to a whisper.”
Since ascending to the office, the president has not to my knowledge repeated those words or anything else that establishes his vision for New Orleans.
That’s what we need from Mr. Obama today.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Mellytawn Festival
I think I was in high school before I discovered how ridiculously mangled my pronunciation of mirliton was.
It was in the middle of a conversation about who-can-possibly-recall that I said it, which completely derailed my geeky friend, Anthony.
"What did you just say?"
"We ate mellytawns from my grandmother's back yard," I repeated.
His crumpled face was probably a reflection of the data logjam in his brain and I waited while he closed his eyes and struggled to untangle my words into something he could recognize. I would have not at all been surprised had he blurted, "That does not compute!" in a robotic monotone.
Of course, at first I did not know what I had said that has seized him so. It actually took a few moments for him to parse my statement down to the single word at issue and for him to communicate this back to me.
Finally, he brightened with resolution. "Oh, you mean mirliton!"
Again I repeated it the way I had always pronounced it, the way I had always heard it, the only way I knew to refer to the water-laden, spiny green vegetable that my grandmother served baked and filled with stuffing.
Again my friend corrected me, telling me how it was spelled and urging me to look it up in a dictionary.
Well, I did look it up, and sure enough I discovered that my friend and my dictionary were both wrong!
I thought of this silly moment in my life again when I heard that it's almost time for this year's Mirliton Festival. It's coming on Saturday, November 7 at Markey Park in Bywater. Bands, art and of course, lots of local food including some featuring that funny little mellytawn that as far as I can tell only shows up on tables in New Orleans.
All are invited, but if you see my old friend Anthony, be careful what you say.
It was in the middle of a conversation about who-can-possibly-recall that I said it, which completely derailed my geeky friend, Anthony.
"What did you just say?"
"We ate mellytawns from my grandmother's back yard," I repeated.
His crumpled face was probably a reflection of the data logjam in his brain and I waited while he closed his eyes and struggled to untangle my words into something he could recognize. I would have not at all been surprised had he blurted, "That does not compute!" in a robotic monotone.
Of course, at first I did not know what I had said that has seized him so. It actually took a few moments for him to parse my statement down to the single word at issue and for him to communicate this back to me.
Finally, he brightened with resolution. "Oh, you mean mirliton!"
Again I repeated it the way I had always pronounced it, the way I had always heard it, the only way I knew to refer to the water-laden, spiny green vegetable that my grandmother served baked and filled with stuffing.
Again my friend corrected me, telling me how it was spelled and urging me to look it up in a dictionary.
Well, I did look it up, and sure enough I discovered that my friend and my dictionary were both wrong!
I thought of this silly moment in my life again when I heard that it's almost time for this year's Mirliton Festival. It's coming on Saturday, November 7 at Markey Park in Bywater. Bands, art and of course, lots of local food including some featuring that funny little mellytawn that as far as I can tell only shows up on tables in New Orleans.
All are invited, but if you see my old friend Anthony, be careful what you say.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)