jazz fest memories

Thanks to Kathy for providing us with our only photos during Jazz Fest! James has a few photos of performances, but no documentation of our existence at the fest. I'll share the other photos soon.

Mr. McDonald

Mr. McDonald is counting down. 8 school days remaining. Not a lot of hope for reaching the kids academically in the last 8 days of parties and field trips and 8th grade graduation and general summer fever. Essentially, he has completed his mission. It is nice to see him smiling again and looking at the world with hopeful eyes.

In these last weeks, he has begun to give treats to his students. Coming from a man who has been taking candy, gum, pencils, wrappers, rubber-bands, etc. from the kids all year and offering nothing in exchange, the gift of a cookie or a pickle is worth more than gold.

He was surprised yesterday, when upon handing out the last of the pickles, one of his students begged to drink the juice from the pickle jar. Mr. McDonald was pretty grossed out by this, but allowed the student a little if he poured it into a cup. The student happily got two cups and poured some for himself and some for another student. They then gulped it down with great satisfaction.

While on our walk last night, James asked with an almost worried tone in his voice if I thought the pickle juice would make the kids sick. I keep smiling whenever I think about his question. Partially because he's finally learning what it is like to be a kid growing up in the south and partially because he has learned what it means to be teacher of children.

New NYC Health Chief

Big news in my department today. Tom Farley, the department chair (Community Health Sciences), and my next-door office neighbor, has been appointed the NYC Health Chief replacing Thomas Friedan. The office is abuzz with activity as we await his return and more details.
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NYC gets new health chief amid swine flu outbreak

By SARA KUGLER | Associated Press Writer
May 18, 2009

NEW YORK - As New York City grieved its first swine flu death and looked ahead to more likely school closings related to the virus, Mayor Michael Bloomberg introduced the new commissioner who will take over the health department next month.

Dr. Thomas Farley is set to succeed Dr. Thomas Frieden, who is leaving to head the federal Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Farley, a pediatrician and epidemiologist with years of experience in infectious diseases, said at a City Hall news conference that he is ready for "the best job in the field of public health."

Bloomberg noted that the appointment takes on great importance as the city continues to deal with swine flu. An assistant principal at a Queens school died of the virus Sunday evening, and several schools have been closed since swine flu was first detected at a private school last month.

Farley comes to New York from the Tulane School of Public Health and Tropical Medicine in New Orleans. He has served as a senior adviser to Frieden since 2007.

He also worked for the CDC and the Louisiana Office of Public Health. In Louisiana, he oversaw efforts to control tuberculosis, HIV and sexually transmitted diseases.

The New Jersey native said his overall goal at the health department is to "continue to make advances against the leading causes of death for New Yorkers today, such as smoking and obesity."

Under Frieden, New York City's health department has aggressively used public health policy to influence residents' lifestyles. The city banned smoking in bars and restaurants, outlawed trans-fats in restaurant food, and forced chain restaurants to post calorie information on their menus.

Farley declined to discuss specific policies he would like to implement. He starts the job June 8.

Fire on the Mississippi - view from my window

I've been watching it off and on since I arrived, trying to determine what exactly was burning and if the fire was getting bigger. From my window, it was hard to tell whether the fire was from a boat in the water or from the shore. Now that the smoke is beginning to clear, it is easier to recognize. There is currently a huge vessel on the Mississippi pouring water onto the fire and smaller boats zipping back and forth around it.


From the Times Picayune:

New Orleans firefighters are on the scene of a two-alarm fire at the site of the old Piety Street Wharf between Piety and Chartres streets. The condemned wharf, owned by the Port of New Orleans, consisted only of a foundation and was littered with debris, including lots of old wood, said Cpl. Mike St. Cyr of the Harbor Police.

The wharf is among several decrepit buildings that are included in massive riverfront development plan to increase pedestrian access to the waterfront. Built in 1916, the wharf had been out of use for 30 years and caught fire after Hurricane Katrina, according to broadcast reports.

The fire call came in at 5:34 a.m., according to a New Orleans Fire Department spokesman. By 7:45 a.m. the fire was under control, St. Cyr said. There are no reported injuries.

The cause of the fire is under investigation.

The first phase of the planned riverfront development, which was scheduled to begin before year's end, is designed to transform the area between Esplanade Avenue and Mazant Street.

Now a gritty industrial zone marred by burned-out cargo docks, the area is set to become a lush green space replete with bike paths, pavilions, a pier and even electricity-generating windmills. If everything goes according to plan, the park will open in 2011.

In the plan, the Piety Street wharf is set to be replaced with a pavilion with a musical theme, with plaques embedded in the ground giving facts about famous New Orleans musicians.

What East-Side Eye Learned in New Orleans

James' sister hasn't been to NOLA since Jazz Fest 2004, the year that the fest was canceled for one day due to rain. I love the pieces of New Orleans that each person takes home with them. East-side Eye.

annual visit

Conversation with my doctor today.
Dr. "So, what brought you here today?"
Me "My annual PAP smear and gynecological appointment"
Dr. "We don't do that here."
Me - no words - mouth falls open.
Dr. "Did you think we did those here?"
Me "Yes, obviously."
Dr. "What gave you that impression?"
Me "When I had my initial visit with you in October, you asked for the date of my last OB-GYN appt - I said May 08, so you told me we should make an appointment for May 09."
Dr. "Funny. No, we don't do those here. Is there anything wrong with you now?"
Me "No. Nothing."
Dr. - no words - flipping casually through my chart.
Me "Is there a reason that you would need to check on me in May if it weren't for an annual appointment?"
Dr. "I don't see any need. You appear to be very healthy."
Me "Maybe you could recommend an OB-GYN."
Dr. "Yes, of course. I guess you shouldn't pay for this appointment."
Me "I don't think so."

Stand by me

This video features two of our favorite New Orleans artist, Grandpa Elliott and Washboard Chaz. It was the first in a series of 'songs around the world' featured on the Playing for Change website. Enjoy.

Memories of my melancholy hoes

The Keller Library in the Broadmoor neighborhood is a one room modular unit that opened just recently in the lawn of the previous building which is still awaiting restoration post-Katrina. James likes to go to the 'trailer' library, because the DVD selection is good and everything is new. All the books are new, too. About a month ago, I was excited to find, 'Memories of my Melancholy Whores', a recent book by one of my favorite authors, Gabriel Garcia-Marquez.

I checked it out, read it, and sent it back with James on one of his many trips. Last week, I received the notice that the book didn't find its way back to the shelf. Today, I visited the Main Branch to get to the bottom of the issue.

I have to admit, I felt a little embarrassed when the librarian called the Keller Branch to ask if the book was on the shelf and read the title. The first time was no problem, but apparently, the person on the other end could not understand. So the Main Branch librarian read it again louder. 'Memories of my melancholy whores. Whores. Not hose! Whores!' Then she spelled it - like in a spelling bee. 'Whores. W-H-O-R-E-S. WHORES!' I have never heard nor used the word so many times in repetition and with such volume.

She hung up the phone shaking her head and asked me "Why would anyone have memories of a hose? That doesn't make any sense." She must not realize that a huge majority of NOLA folks don't pronounce the r's in certain words. Ward is wahd. Store is stowe. The plural of stores is stowes. So, of course, the plural of whore is hoes.

Whores or hoes - whichever the case. The book is still MIA - lost within the New Orleans library system. I'm sure there will be more story to follow.

make it right

The Times Picayune ran the article that was being researched during our visit to the Make it Right houses two weeks ago. Fay Holmes was in our group. The article is interesting as are the comments that follow it.



Residents learn to cope as tourists, TV crews pour in to see Brad Pitt's 'Make It Right' neighborhood

Before Aug. 29, 2005, it's unlikely a tour bus ever rolled down the 1700 block of Tennessee Street.

Home to neither alligator swamps nor neon lights, that part of the Lower 9th Ward was not what visitors wanted see when they toured the Crescent City.

What a difference a catastrophic levee failure makes.

Hurricane Katrina exacted some of its harshest punishment on the Lower 9th Ward, turning the neighborhood into international buzzword and desolate spectacle. Countless houses were knocked off their foundations, hundreds of families displaced, and the neighborhood below the Industrial Canal became an unlikely tourist attraction. Read more.

Jazz fest co-pilot

In order to avoid paying $50 per day to attend Jazz Fest, James and I volunteered. For 2 hours on Saturday and 3 hours on Sunday, I was co-pilot in the musicians shuttle at the fairgrounds. My main responsibility was to yell out of the window to tell the passers-by to move out of the way. Of course, my version was the less intimidating, "Excuse me, sir or ma'am, we have musicians, could you please move so they can make it to the stage?"

I helped to safely transport Harry Shearer and Judith Owen (they were disgusted with the white PT Cruiser mini-van - too many blind spots - and, of course, it is a rental, who would ever buy such a travesty?), Sonny Landreth (he was rather pleased with the performance but concerned about the sound quality), Chubby Carrier and the Bayou Swamp Band (very difficult to round up this group of 7 who were enjoying food back stage hoping to meet Earth, Wind & Fire), multiple Mardis Gras indians, their elaborate costumes,and a souped up baby stroller, and a high school gospel group (two of which were making out in the back of the shuttle during the entire ride, while others vocalized displeasure with the situation).

I saw Etta James, and heard her sing 'At Last,' but she arrived in a limo and didn't need our services. Earth, Wind and Fire were also nearby, but they went from the stage directly to their tour bus to avoid the droves of ladies loitering near the exit.

Next weekend James and I will be assigned as ushers in the gospel tent during Aaron Neville's performance. Can't wait to report on that.

spring break 2009

Our good friend, Diane, visited us to help James celebrate his spring break last week. So many highlights - lots of great food, happy chatting, bead collecting and exploring.

Katrina re-visited

On Friday, I was responsible for taking a group of 40 MD's, PhD's and public health students from colleges across the country on a visit to some of New Orleans 'recovery' areas. I struggled with the idea of renting a motor coach, loading it with people, and doing a show and tell of all of the devastation that still exists post-Katrina.

We visited St. Bernard Project located below the Lower 9th Ward in St. Bernard Parish. Some of the lowest ground in the area. People who lived here were 75% home owners making an average income of $38,000 per year. They worked hard and lived comfortably. Katrina wiped out the area. The people here have lost everything and are working to rebuild their lives, the St. Bernard Project is working to help them. Liz McCartney, co-founder of the project, was named the 2008 CNN Hero of the Year because of their efforts. She spoke to our group about her work and about the continued struggle to help rebuild.

The Lower 9th Ward Clinic was another part of our visit and the area where the Make it Right project is hard at work.

Roland was our driver for the day - he has lived in NOLA all of his life. He has survived Hurricane Betsy and Katrina, both times losing his home to the flood. He didn't know he was going to tell his story as we drove along, but once I started asking him questions and realized he was a survivor and that he wanted to talk about it, everything fell into place. He drove us slowly along abandoned streets of St. Bernard and the Lower 9th Ward, pointing out areas where his friends used to live and his children used to play. He told us where the levees were breached and how high the water rose and for how long. He showed us where the church was and where it isn't any longer. He talked about the temporary clinics and the people who came to help and, when asked why he came back he answered, "New Orleans is my home. When I wasn't here, I wasn't anywhere. I had to come back and I'll keep coming back."

In the end, it is necessary and important to talk about what is happening and not happening in New Orleans. I know this, but it doesn't make looking at it or talking about it any easier. The reality is that people's lives were changed forever and they are trying hard to come home - to what they know, to their families, to a place that makes sense to them.

Catching monkeys

Who knew that when we attended the Muses parade that our new pal, Curious George, would fly from the hands of a queen on the float and fall into James' loving arms. George arrived beadless and with some extra nostrils drawn in. Since that time, he has caught some beads of his own, watched some parade action, taken a bike ride or two and been photographed countless times. He lives in a Mardi Gras shrine area that is steadily expanding on our kitchen table. George keeps us focused on the big picture. When life gets tough - you have to take time to stop and catch a monkey.

the not-so-scary monster

Yesterday, James and I were sitting in the sunny spot on the concrete slab in our backyard when we heard a chorus of childlike yells coming from the direction of our neighbor's house. We sometimes hear our little friend, Armani, making similar sounds (semi-dramatic, but not indications of danger)when life doesn't go his way, so we weren't concerned. A half a minute later we hear their dad, Floyd, talking to them, 'That's what happens when you leave the gate open - sometimes animals come in.'

I walked closer to investigate and saw my three young neighbors huddled together on their front stoop and a pretty little smiling australian shepherd below them - tail wagging. Their dad tried to round up the shepherd, but the dog really liked the yard and was doing everything in its power to stay with its new family.

James and I offered to help, so he went around the fence and I went to get some chicken from the fridge. Floyd managed to get a leash around the dog and politely tugged - the dog would move a foot or two before sitting down again. The chicken did the trick. We were able to lure the dog into the street and Floyd closed the gate. Of course, I made a new friend - the dog now sat beside me, rubbed up against my leg, and asked for more. My little neighbors did not want the dog anywhere near me. Still, I pet the dog and talked to it - James told them it was a nice dog and that not all dogs were mean. We walked around the block and the dog followed us, leaving the boys in peace.

They don't like animals. Their response to most living creatures is to search and destroy. I guess this could be typical for small rough and tumble boys, but it seems extreme from my perspective. They want to squash caterpillars, pull crickets apart, and they throw rocks at any bird who flies by. This all disturbs me. So, I pick up caterpillars and talk about the pretty birds and pet dogs in hopes that it will start to seem normal to love all types of creatures - no matter how different and frightening they may seem.

NoLA Rising

NoLA Rising is a non-profit that promotes local artists who create art work relating to the recovery of New Orleans. Later this month, during the first weekend of Jazz Fest, they are having an art sale/fundraiser for a new mural project that they are hoping to get off the ground.

Proctoring the LEAP

Mr. McDonald is proctoring the final day of the Louisiana Education Assessment Program (LEAP) test for his 6th graders.

Translation

James is spending his birthday babysitting 6th graders who are going stir-crazy after being removed from their daily routine to be placed in one classroom to take a standardized test in three-hour increments each day since last Wednesday.

what i saw today

I drove about four miles away from my office today - into the neighborhood called 'Desire'- to visit George Washington Carver High School. First Book did another book distribution and I was there to take photos. I mapquested the school, having never been there before and got directions to 3059 Higgins Blvd. When I turned onto Higgins, I knew immediately that the school was not open, nor were the houses surrounding it inhabitable.

Though I know what it is like here - I live here now. I'm still shocked. My stomach always turns. My heart yearns for something different. Something better. Something. Anything to be done. I drove past the abandoned school, looking for some sign of life.
I drove farther than I needed, but I couldn't stop looking.








When I pulled over, I was given directions to trailers that now held the students -only a few blocks over and surrounded by rotting, gaping houses, useless street lights, cars with flat tires, and trash.

It rained last night, so the grassy areas underneath the trailers were like mini-marshes. Water lapped over onto the cement sidewalks. Students - every one black - every one wearing a uniform of a bright orange shirt and khaki pants, goofed around in the breezeways.

I had trouble paying attention in the classroom. I kept looking at the kids, trying to see into their lives. Later, when looking through the photo release forms, I recognized the handwriting of one student and then her name. Tiffany. She was the brightest student in my summer school class at Reed. Planning to go to college, she was in summer school, not because she did poorly, but because she missed too many days during the year at her regular school. When she told me over the summer that she went to Carver, I had no idea which school that was, what it looked like or where she lived. Now I do. Tiffany wasn't in class today.

what's happening in the projects

Right now, I'm eating my lunch, looking out the window, watching the projects.A tiny baby in a white onesie is learning to walk. Another tiny person in a similar outfit is waddling around more successfully. Some women are standing nearby. A guy is playing basketball on the new court donated by a Hornet's player last month.A police officer just drove up on the sidewalk through the center of the houses and parked in the middle of the common area/lawn. No one has exited the car.Someone is walking along another sidewalk carrying grocery bags.3 other people are walking slowly through the center - each headed in opposite directions.It isn't raining yet, but it looks like it will today.The police officer is now standing on the sidewalk beside his car.

James and the giant sycamore

broken sandals

our street, like many other streets in new orleans, is covered with large white painted letters creating SOS messages on it. yet another memory of katrina. i bike over them, drive over them, and walk over them on a daily basis. seldom do i look down and read them. though sometimes i do. if you look up our address on google earth and zoom in - you can read the messages. it is creepy and bizarre and i only did it once.

today, as i was headed for work, i noticed a pair of metallic gold summer sandals lying in the middle of the road - interestingly enough, they acted as quotation marks surrounding the giant words 'need water' sprawled in white across the black asphalt. the sandals had a broken strap and were abandoned there.

i wonder who, upon hearing the snap of the vinyl, would simply step out of, or kick off the useless shoe and then unstrap the other - leaving both behind. preferring to walk along barefoot, both feet exposed on the gravely, uneven pavement peppered with shattered glass and nails, rather than looking for an alternate solution. choosing not to be bothered to pick up what had become trash in order to drop them in one of the many garbage cans that line the street.

i wonder if she had to walk far to get home? if she noticed where the sandals fell? if she read the words? or, if, like me, she chose to stop seeing the white paint as letters creating messages, and instead, waits for the day when they are finally erased by time and our daily passage over them.