power outage

Yesterday, winds picked up suddenly at dusk, the world became a dust bowl, and finally - 15 minutes of beautiful, much-needed rain. A little later, James and I took a walk. After two weeks of mid-90's, 82 was a welcome temperature and we wanted to enjoy it. About 6 blocks from home on our return, we saw some plants sitting at the curb waiting for trash day. Not able to leave them, I hoisted a large, neglected schefflera onto my hip and we began walking again. Just about that time, we saw a huge flash of light and then the street went dark. A transformer blew out and surged a couple of times in an attempt to regain power. As we made our way down the final blocks home, our neighbors began emerging from their homes, talking back and forth across the street, asking if anyone had called Entergy. Many didn't have phones and couldn't call, one woman, new to the neighborhood, had one of those minute phones, but she ran out of minutes earlier that day. The hairdresser had a phone but it wasn't working. Others had no phone at all. The buzz of conversation continued as we walked along. Even with the chatter in the street, we were amazed at how quiet the neighborhood seemed. No airconditioners buzzing, no radios, no sizzling electric lines. Someone said that it sounded like this after Katrina, but was darker, because this time, there were only a few blocks without power. We went inside, lit candles, and went about our business, our neighbors, however, stayed outside until another hour or so until the Entergy truck arrived and the power was restored.

'the smaller the group, the bigger the party'

At least 3 nights a week and always on Sunday evening, our corner neighbor, the hairdresser, plays this song. Sometimes she replays it multiple times in a row, sometimes she plays the entire mix cd, so that on any given week night, we might hear this tune 3-7 times. After having lived in the Irish Channel for one year, I estimate that we have heard this Mel Waiters song an absolute minimum of 468 times. I know its thumping base by heart. Interestingly, I still don't know the words.

Often there are loud conversations that take place over the music. Large, styrofoam Daiquiri 'to go' cups are generally present. Sometimes a grill is wheeled to the curb and some food is prepared. On occasion, a dance party ensues. Once, bag-head participated in a dance off with the hairdresser and the pink-shirt crack addict - somehow pink-shirt acquired an American flag and incorporated that into the dance routine. You never can tell what will happen in our neck of the hood.