Community

Our neighborhood, April, 2005

One thing that seems to be lost in the discussions about Katrina is that whole communities were lost. I’m not talking about the houses or the buildings that were ruined by the neglect of the Corps of Engineers (our Federal Government), but the neighbors who will never live in their homes again. There are family-owned businesses that have existed for generations that may never reopen. The fabric of these communities will never be the same again. While I am overjoyed that I have a new home in which to live in an unflooded area, I will never have the same neighbors – one of whom was so generous he would even let us borrow his new truck when we needed to move wood paneling. One of the first things he did, upon us moving into our house, was help us move the heavy furniture in. He had a Dixieland band that would practice on Tuesday nights – I miss the joyous music wafting through the wall; I used to turn off the TV and try to listen to their practices from next door. Our neighbors on the other side were elderly and I used to just enjoy going over there, talking to them, and petting their dog. When we heard that Saturday night that Katrina was coming our way, we tried to get them to evacuate with us to Mississippi. Like so many others, they didn’t want to leave their very large Lab, Monet; he doesn’t travel well. So they stayed, and of course, the levee broke a block away. After three days, they were rescued from the second story of a neighbor’s vacant house by boat and spent the night, waiting for a bus on the concrete of the Interstate. She has had medical problems since then and they aren’t coming back. We were much more fortunate than they were – they spent 40 years in that house and raised a family there.

My neighborhood was a vibrant community before Katrina. There were elderly residents, middle-aged residents, and younger residents. We had black residents, white residents, and some between. We had nuns, college professors, and computer programmers. Everyone got along wonderfully. Now, there are about 4 FEMA trailers in the whole neighborhood. The neighborhood gas stations, the shopping center, the grocery stores, and the coffee shop are boarded up. Who knows if, like my neighbors, they’ll ever return? Looters roam freely, taking anything left behind, even defecating in the houses not boarded up. With the mixed signals and lack of vision and direction given so far in the recovery, is it any wonder that residents are stymied by lack of resources, information, and lack of faith in our government and levees? Who would want to go through this again? A whole community will not be whole for many years…and like irreplaceable personal possessions handed down through the generations, cannot be brought back.

Do holidays and vacations mean anything anymore?

I remember growing up when all the stores were closed on Sunday and weren’t open late everyday. Now we live with a 24/7 drive-thru mentality in the United States. God forbid if we have to wait to get something done! While I won’t argue that it’s a good thing to have hospitals, paramedics, and firemen available 24/7, do we really have to have every restaurant, WalMart, and mall open on holidays? Can we wait one day to go buy the perfect mini-skirt? Can we honor whatever occasion caused the day to be made a holiday in the first place and allow families to be together? We are so afraid in this country that we’re going to slow the economy or fall behind in our productivity that our lives are literally passing us by at breakneck pace, and we can’t slow down enough to honor veterans or Martin Luther King, or even take a couple of days off. And you must just plain be a BAD EMPLOYEE if you want to take more than a week off at a time! European countries don’t seem to have this problem and allow citizens to have more time off – they have weeks more vacation than overworked US citizens. Is it really a badge of honor to spend 5, 6, or 7 days a week making the greatest widget on Earth, from 8 AM ‘til 7 or 8 PM, instead of taking the time to walk your dog or taking time to celebrate a relative’s birthday? Why do we tolerate this kind of thinking from employers in the United States? Are we compulsively listening to every order they give, afraid we’ll make a misstep and lose our jobs? Why are we SO afraid? Maybe this country would improve if we would find more courage within ourselves and not conform so much…

Why save New Orleans?

When I evacuated for Katrina, I was sent to Dallas because of my husband’s job. It was not until I had been in Dallas for over a month that I realized that I really missed New Orleans and wanted to go home. I know that anyone would probably be homesick if they were forced to leave their home suddenly - maybe it was depression since my house and belongings were destroyed, but this was a real sense of my soul being disturbed. I missed the music that had become such a part of my being. I also missed our world-class food – I sincerely believe it to be the best in this country; the food in Dallas seemed so bland in comparison. I missed my favorite radio station, WWOZ. Other cities have good radio stations, but there truly is no other radio station like WWOZ. It is one of the few stations nationwide with mostly a jazz format, but on weekends the world musicians are let loose. There is Irish music, Cuban music, Brazilian music, Brass Band music, Cajun music…you get the picture. Driving 25 miles to get to my destination in Dallas, I also realized that the city of New Orleans is rather compact. You don’t have to drive forever to get someplace, and when the streetcar is running, you can leave your car and take the scenic route Uptown (and not past 10 Targets, several Linens 'N Things, a Barnes and Noble, and 15 WalMarts). Not many American cities can claim that distinction anymore.

When people from other parts of the country debate whether New Orleans should be rebuilt, there is only one question to be asked – have you spent a significant amount of time in New Orleans? You cannot debate the fate of one of the world’s greatest cities unless you have visited and left the French Quarter. If you’ve just hit the normal tourist hotspots, don’t even think about commenting on this, ‘cause that ain’t Nawlins and you’ve not met the diverse array of people that live here and commune here. If you watch the news reports, you may get the idea that all the neighborhoods that were flooded were African-American. It may be true in some areas, but there are many neighborhoods (like mine) in which diversity was not just an idea, but lived out everyday. I also point out the fact that many of the residents of New Orleans are not from here - they chose to come here to paint, to write, or to play music. The fact that so many artists choose to move here says a lot.

So does this make up for the crime or the horrendous roads or living below sea level? No one lives with security, absolute safety, or in a untroubled area – Los Angeles is overdue for a major earthquake, as is Memphis, Charleston, and perhaps, even New York City. Tornadoes hit the middle section of the country constantly. And we never discuss not rebuilding these areas. Have we become so cold in our American thinking that we would simply choose to discard the already-established lives of several hundred thousand people because “they’re all animals – they live below sea level – they are full of corruption and they deserve what they get?” That’s the kind of blanket thinking that caused, among other things, the Holocaust and the Japanese concentration camps. People whose thinking is leaning that way need to take the high road and have some compassion – look at the bigger picture. We are all people and people here are hurting. They need our attention. Help to rebuild one of the greatest cities in the world. In improving a great city, you will know that you helped improve yourself.

In praise of grits!

There are certain times of stress or not eating enough in my life where I crave grits. Yes, it’s comfort food for us southerners. Whether plain with a slab of butter on top, combined with cheese, cheese and jalapenos, or cheese and garlic, grits is just good food. I’ve never figured out why some parts of our country turn up their collective noses at grits. It’s just ground corn, and they eat it in other parts of the world such as Italy, where they make it sound especially yummy by calling it polenta (it could be the accent that makes it sound so appealing, or just the fact that everything Italian, except Fiats, is better). Actually, I think the rest of the country is getting the picture, though, with chefs like Emeril Lagasse kicking it up a notch with Shrimp and Grits, or variations, such as Quail with Grits Cakes (Bobby Flay), and Sea Bass with Grits (Tyler Florence). That’s some good stuff! What tookya so long!? Wouldya like some sweet tea to go with that?

Knock on wood

I just got through sitting on the 2nd floor balcony of the public university where I work, watching workers throw old wooden desk chairs off the balcony, crashing to the ground below. With each thud! or crack!, I felt a rising tide of indignation. Aside from the fact that these chairs were each made by cutting down a tree or two, they're just cool representations of Mid-Twentieth century design. You know - the straight back wood chair with slats in the back and a curved wood support connecting the chair's bottom and back.

Perhaps they remind me of my Daddy's desk chair that I lost in Katrina and that's the reason I like them so much. I can smell his pipe tobacco and see him sitting in his chair, writing a book in the dim light, dipping his pre-ballpoint pen in a jar of ink. Of course, they're just neat chairs, too - they remind us of a time when even chairs were built to last and weren't put together with a toothpick and glue. Meanwhile, I'm sitting here, content to gloat about these two wonderful chairs surrounding me in my austere little cubicle that I rescued from the dump - my co-workers smirk and think I must be affected because I didn't have coffee this morning.