it’s a rough planet

Today was beautiful weather as I started to prep a house in St Bernard Parish for painting.  St. Bernard was hit hard during Katrina, in fact the house I was working on like many on the street still bore a spray painted X on the porch marking that it had been searched for bodies after the storm. The radio next to me was reporting on the devastation in Japan.

The contractor that I am working for has been getting a lot of work correcting repair work that was done in the months following the hurricane. Shoddy work done by fly-by-night contractors who flooded the city after the storm waters receded. Paint jobs that should have lasted 10 to 15 years starting to peel after 5.

I needed at lunch to find coffee and cigarettes. I walked block after block finding the same patterns, a recently renovated shotgun house, a couple of vacant lots with just concrete slabs, another recently renovated shotgun and an occasional vacant house covered with vines. One gutted home had PLEASE BULLDOZE spray painted on the front.  I had to walk a lot father than I anticipated, most of the strip malls that we passed on the way in, turned out to still be abandoned.

Like the rest of the world who watched the tragedy unfold on the news channels, we could not imagine what it was like for the residents. I’ve heard many recountings from those who were here. I often wonder how I will respond when and if I am forced to. Will I stay or evacuate and will I suffer the post traumatic stress of seeing my adopted city ravaged by nature.

Often we hear astronomers speak of how Earth is nestled in just the perfect location in our solar system. Any closer to the sun and we’d burn, any farther from the sun we’d freeze.  How incredibly perfectly located we are in the big picture with enough oxygen and water.  Listening to the radio reports of how many thousands may have died do to the earthquake and the following tsunami while wire brushing a Katrina X I thought about this planet. It’s not nearly as friendly as the travel brochures make it sound.

99 percent of the time it is pretty decent, but now and then the atmosphere decides to it’s time to fuck with us by slamming humanity with unlivable conditions. At times the most stable thing in our lives, the very plant itself becomes violent and our seas desire to show that they are in the majority and land is the minority.

It can be a rough planet to live on at times.

I went to church today

I had today off from work, so I wandered into the Quarter with sketch book in hand. Sorry to rub it into the rest of the country, but it was in the mid sixties and sunny. Tourists and Quarter Rats milled about, listened to music and lounged in the grass at Jackson Square. I'm getting familiar enough with the streets, coffee shops and cool niches that I almost feel like a local.

Most of my "architectural charactures" I draw from memory, composites of buildings that I visually inhaled on my excursions.  I thought that I would attempt the New Orleans crown jewel of St. Louis cathedral. I have been a bit intimidated to tackle a drawing of the most photographed structure in the Crescent City. For this piece of art I would have to sit in front of it for almost four hours, eyes darting back and forth between my paper and the church hundreds of times.

 

St Louis Cathedral is one of the oldest continuous operating cathedrals in the nation. The original one was destroyed by a hurricane in 1722, a fire destroyed the second one in 1788. The present one was finished in 1794 and has been the crown of the French Quarter easily viewed from the Mississippi. I'm sure many an early visitor passing on the river awed at it's spires. During hurricane Katrina the roof leaked severely damaging a million dollar pipe organ. Two large oak trees fell almost missing a statue of Jesus. The falling tree took off only Jesus' thumb, allowing him to only being able to hitch hike in one direction. 

Across The River From Algiers

Billy Joel wrote "Life is a series of hellos and good byes, I guess it's time for good bye again." 

Well I just moved from the west bank of the Mississippi back over to New Orleans.  Things are changing for the better. I will miss some of the kind folks over there. I didn't get to say good bye to a few, or tell them how special they are to me.

One gentleman I met was named Josh, a U.S. Coast Guardsman. I doubt that you could find anyone who could honestly speak a harsh word about this soul. Polite, positive and smart as a whip I always looked forward to seeing him. Most every time he walked away I would say to who ever was there "There goes a man I would not mind having my daughter bring some someday. I hope she will do as well as him when it comes to men." Any father of a girl knows what a compliment that is.  I have a greater appreciation for the United States Coast Guard, underfunded and under appreciated group of men and women who serve in times of war and peace.

 "A Steeler's Brain Eating Zombi"

Brian "Who-Dat" is one of the few native New Orleanians that I have gotten to know. The first few times Brian saw me, I was wearing my rattiest blue jeans and t-shirts covered with 5 coats of paint. Later Brian came up to me with an armful of clothes and said "Here brother, hope they fit. If you need any more let me know." A truly generous man who would literally give you the shirt off of his back and never remind you of it. A bar shirt from "The Alibi" is now one of my prized possessions because of the spirit that is was given. Perhaps he being a Katrina survivor who lost everything but what he could carry in his car is why he is so compassionate. I tear up when I think of his gifts.

It was also Brian who gave me my first appreciation of football. Brian has been a life long Who Dat, long before it was ever fashionable. He tells of being at a Saints game when he was a youth and seeing Saints fans wearing paper bags over their heads. It was as if the Super Bowl win last year was done exclusively for him. The entire city feels that personal about the team. They came close this year, but no cigar. Who Dats are still proud and joyous over their heroes' efforts. For the first time in my life, I actually gave a damn about who won a game. Brian, keep in touch so we can have a beer and watch a game together again someday. WHOO-DAAAT!

Six Flags at half mast

Six Flags over New Orleans closed for hurricane Katrina and never reopened. Here is a rather creepy and depressing video of how it looks today. It's scheduled to be demolished next year. Until I moved down here and could view the area in person I never realized how extensive the damage was, and is. I know coming from another part of the country the Gulf Coast destruction is "out of sight, out of mind." 

There are so many areas and structures that still hold the scars of damage and water marks. The people too still carry the memories and trauma of the event. It looks like the Gulf Coast has managed to get through this last hurricane season without as much as a threat. Some of the locals admit, every hurricane season brings with it anxiety, and a little rush of excitement. 

Here in New Orleans locals are already planning and anticipating Mardi Gras. These folks live for it. A Yat can tell you exactly what they wore, who they were with, and what they drank for every Mardi Gras going back four decades. The rest of the country is preparing for the Christmas season, down here that holiday takes the back seat to Carnival season.  Christmas? Leave that for the rest of the world, it's kind of lame.

Wake me when September ends....

This blog is about moving from New Jersey to New Orleans, the differences and similarities. September is where they share ugly anniversaries. Every Katrina story holds my attention and captures my heart. Acts of kindness from strangers around the country. The need to return and rebuild, with a stronger community than before. The uncountable losses.

Equally, a person from New Orleans seems intrigued by my memory of seeing the thick black smoke on the horizon. The smell that lingered for days. A small suburban town that lost twenty plus residents in an act of war. Telling folks had never seen the towers how it was one of my daily stops when I drove a commuter bus.

What could these two national tragedies have in common? Both times we as Americans expected our government to protect us, and they let us down. We go to sleep at night believing that our tax dollars are paying for agencies to catch bad guys. We trust the infrastructure that our homes are built on will be there in the morning. In both cases when questions were asked, they started to finger point and blame. They fire a few people, shuffle around bureaucrats and reassure us they fixed the problems and we are now safe.

summer has come and passed
the innocent can never last
wake me up when September ends


One observation made by a long time New Orleans resident "We managed to rebuild an entire goddamn city in 5 years, why is it taking you all so long to rebuild a couple of skyscrapers?" You know, I didn't have an answer.

What that woman she been doin' to me...

About 6 years ago in New Jersey I had a friend who had come down to New Orleans on a drinking binge with her friends. Upon her return she told me what a great city it was and that I should visit it someday. I doubt she ever ventured much farther than Bourbon Street. During the weeks following Katrina, like the rest of the nation I had a dull sickness in my gut. Sick from the idea that a city in the most developed nation of the world would be reduced to what we were watching on TV. Sickness from the fact that I never would get a chance to visit the same great place I had heard about.

Last summer in NJ my buddy Waffle kept telling me of this great city inhabited by artists of all sorts. People who were friendly and likable. An atmosphere of generosity and optimism. Being from NJ, I doubted any place like that was real, let alone the one from the news footage. "New Orleans? Is that still there?"  It was as if he was speaking of the lost city of Atlantis. "Fuck it, I have to get out of Jersey or I'll start to go Travis Bickle on my passengers."  From the moment I rolled into town, I have been welcomed, inspired and filled with hope.

Everyone here has a story worthy of a novel. Some who didn't leave or returned soon after to help rebuild are suffering from Post Traumatic Stress. Entire neighborhoods are still scarred and damaged, but most are thriving. One of my first jobs down here was as a laborer at a strip mall being rebuilt in St. Bernard Parish. As far as the eye could see, abandoned housing with a few large boats still just sitting in vacant lots where they had been deposited.

One of the first places I stayed was in the Broadmoor section. About head level a water line was still visible on the outside of the structure. The door still had an X spray painted on it. The X was a sign that it had been searched for bodies in the days after the storm. One could state that it's not the infrastructure that makes up a city, it's the residents. New Orleans then would be one of the strongest and most resilient cities in the world. It's strength is not in it's levees, but the hearts.

I’m gonna buy me a ticket as far as I can,
I ain't never comin' back
I’m gonna take me that south-bound,
All the way to Georgia now,
‘Till the train it run out of track
Can't you see, oh, can't you see,
What that woman, she been doin' to me

Saints win, 36 - 21

Back in Jersey I would have passengers in my cab ask me "You a Giants fan?" "Nope" "Ya like the Eagles?" "Both teams could die in fiery plane crashes and I couldn't care less."  I had never been to or even watched a football game in the past 47 years of life. Until last night when I went to my first Saints game. A friend of mine Brian aka "Mow" offered to treat me to a game at the Superdome. I came down to NOLA to re-invent myself, try new things and experience more of life.

Me, Mow & Murray

Thousands of black and gold fans peacefully filed into the recently re-sided stadium. It now has a goldish hue to it. I found myself leaning on the back of a pick up truck downing a few beers and watching women dressed in jersies and heels parade past. "I think I understand the whole Roman Coliseum thing now."  No Christian were thrown to lions, but the Chargers were thrown to the the Saints. Mow told me "It ain't about the game, it's about the event."

I had a great time with the crowd. Enthusiastic, but I didn't see anyone acting like assholes or getting arrested. It was a privaledge to party with the who dat nation.  The Saint's Superbowl win was a great moral shot in the arm for New Orleans. The team brought pride and unity to a city constantly getting kicked around by the weather or now the petroleum corporations. Never have been a football fan, my only knowledge of the New Orleans Superdome was as a refuge center five years ago after Katrina.

Memories of the news chopper footage of the Superdome in the days of the storm ran through my mind as I drank up with my adoptive crew.  Murray, who I had never met provided my ticket through Mow. This is a friendly town. Even though Murray kept calling me a "Damn Yankee" all night.  I got to experience my first football game as well as a city constantly in search of something to celebrate. The Superdome represents the highs and the lows of living in the Big Easy.

 My only embarrassing moment  all night was trying to tip a cheerleader a dollar.

VIDEO

Ivory's 76 yard
touch down

Running with the Bulls in NOLA

I've discovered a lot about myself while working as a background actor. If a giant monster attacks New Orleans, I will be the first to be eaten. The director set up the shot by saying: "Imagine a monstrous, forbidding, swirling cloud descending upon the city and destroying life." The director should have remembered that this is New Orleans. That description of our imaginary monster is the weather report several times a summer down here. These people don't run in fear from large murderous clouds, they run to a bar and invent a drink to honor it.

We got the gist of what he wanted. Running in fear toward the camera, looking over our shoulders at a computer generated monster who will be added months from now. Ironically, we were looking in the direction of the BP oil spill. He wanted fear and terror, panic and confusion. He got it. People from New Orleans work well together only if you dress them up in costumes and line them up in the street to perform in the same direction. It was just another form of parade. Imagine if everyone on a crowded Bourbon street simultaneously saw the same hallucination, that's what I did today at work.

I'm 47, I don't run. I have flat feet, and today is the first time I ever wore sandals. There were several flip flop injuries that instituted wardrobe changes for tomorrow. When the 300 or so of us would walk back to position one (the starting point,) we would see a half a dozen or so shoes scattered down the street with cell phones as punctuation marks. New Orleans takes a lot of pride in it's well organized evacuations.

The last time I had to sprint 2 blocks was in Belmar NJ on my forty third birthday. The reason I was running is complicated. It involved a stolen eight ball of coke, a criminally insane stripper and a very irate Italian mobster driving around Belmar looking for us. I probably shouldn't say much more.

Treme

I finally got to see episode one of HBO's TREME. My friend was a background extra in a few scenes. He also was back in New Orleans soon after Katrina. He said that the show really nails the tragedy. What happened, what it looked like, and how residents felt. The shock, the depression and anger. The producer of the show has lived in the city for 20 years and has done justice in the show.

To hear the survivors speak of the months after Katrina is akin to listening to those who pulled themselves from the rubble of a war. In fact during the show my buddy commented on the helicopter sound effects in the background. Day in and day out. Choppers, diesel trucks and the National Guard gave New Orleans the feel of an occupied city. Stench of mold, rotting food, the corpses of pets and destruction remained long after the TV news cameras left.

This is my fourth month in New Orleans, I can't imagine ever leaving it. What you see in Treme is close to what you will find here. The music, the food the people. My friend's favorite line from the first episode "Don't know how not to Mardi Gras." It's the spirit of the city.

Tis the season....

Really cool people

I'm humbled when I meet a Katrina survivor. Every one is worthy of a TV series. One room mate tells upon returning he and a friend went to Home Depot and bought the last two chainsaws and managed to turn it into a business. The roomy said he had never even used a chainsaw before. In a short time he and his partner had turned it into a successful landscaping enterprise. Never had worked with sod before, they undertook repairing storm damaged lawns back to pre-Katrina conditions.

Seeing a shortage of places to eat, he and his partner then started up a sandwich shop catering to the returning workers into the city. One person I met spoke of eating M.R.E.'s (Meals ready to eat)for weeks. Waffle told of Red Cross wagons and Taco vendors being the only source of food in this city known for fine dining. The ones I have met have a great attitude seldom heard back in Jersey. "It's just stuff, it don't mean a thing." A live for today, don't waste your energy on collecting expensive stuff that can be gone tomorrow attitude.

Conversely Nola still has a very high suicide rate.

Things I don't like about NOLA

I have been raving about how much more I like New Orleans than New Jersey. I am not saying it's perfect. Here are a few of the things I don't like about the area:

* INFRASTRUCTURE The roads are so bad down here, I'm thinking about opening up a tire and shock garage. There are some roads that look like they belong in Baghdad, not Louisiana. Not far from here, there is a road leading to the bridge that looks like the San Andreas runs under it. I thought it might be a result of attention going to repairing the remaining Katrina damage. A native told me that the roads have always been this bad. Low taxes are great until they take out a tire. He did mention that the tax dollars did go to keeping the politicians driveways in great shape.

* COCKROACHES In Jersey we did have roaches, about the size of a cigarette butt. Down here I have seen some the size of my thumb. I know I heard one call me a "Damn Yankee" as I walked away.

* LITTLE GREEN LIZARDS Sure they are cute when they are trying to sell you car insurance. At first I thought the heat and humidly was causing hallucinations. Small green streaks darting about the lawn as I was mowing kept me questioning my decision to do drugs years ago. I don't care if you are Chuck Norris, the first time a green lizard darts across your shoe, you will scream like a girl.

* RACISM In New Jersey, most sides of race took everybody on a case by case basis. Sure you had racist members on both sides who decided they didn't like the other before they met. Down here, it's a given. I never felt such open hostility for no other reason than the color of my skin. Old times here are not forgotten.

* MUD BUGS When I was mowing the lawn, I would come across baseball size clumps of mud. At first I thought they were some sort of bee hive. My landlord Jackson told me they were Mudbugs. Do to the high water table these aquatic insects will build nests in the yard. By the way, when tourist come down here these bugs are sold to them as a delicacy known as CRAWFISH! New Orleans have been feeding bugs they find in their yards to tourists and making a fortune. Give you people enough booze, they will cook up and serve you the big ass cockroaches next.

Give me your money...

If there is one thing I learned from watching Haliburton is: Where there is tragedy and hardships, there is money to be made. Looking for employment, tonight I'm Emailing out my resume to every environmental clean up agency in the state. The oil is moving in tonight. Like an oily storm hours from landfall. I need a job, and right now I have all of the ethics of Dick Cheney. Give me a Tyvek suite and some paper towels to wipe your ducks off. At least I'm honest about my intentions. I could be like the "green People" who raise a self righteous hell to receive millions from the Feds, only to line their own pockets. At least I'm promising to do real work for the money. Environmentalists only pollute with more hot air when they get money.

What are my qualifications to clean up crude oil on the beach? Do I have a HAZMAT certification? No, but I drove taxi at night and had to clean puke out of my cab on more than one occasion. Crude oil will be a walk on the beach.

I mentioned my idea to my landlord, he laughed. "You forget, this is Louisiana." They got hung out during a natural disaster, do you thing a Yankee is going to give a rat's ass about a man made ecological disaster? He pointed out that the marshes are New Orlean's BEST natural barrier to the Gulf during storms. Severe pollution from crude oil will destroy the vegetation, then the little bit of land that protects will erode.



My idea was brilliant if this had been NJ. Enough money controls politician from wealthy beach home owners, billions would've been thrown at NJ. Trillions in bail out went to Wall St, let's see how much is spent to bail out Bourbon St.

My respect for this city

In the past six weeks I have spoken to many New Orleans residents who were here during Katrina. Everyone has a story worthy of a TV movie. Chilling first hand accounts that most Americans couldn't imagine happening in their towns and cities. One man spoke of returning into the city early on and being involved in the clean up. Streets littered with debris and corpses of pets. A woman who took her own life rather than to leave her pet dog behind. He assisted with the logistics of removal of unimaginable amounts of refuge. Landfills just for building debris, appliances, trees and another just for autos. Waffle told about street after street being lined with refrigerators. After the power has been out for several weeks, you don't even want to open up the fridge. In true NOLA fashion, people were going down the streets and painting artwork on the curbside appliances that may still be there for months. Here is the Walmart that I now do my shopping in.


I have heard stories from both sides. Accounts of executions by police or vigilantes. Accounts of looting and pillaging for weeks afterwards. So many neighborhoods are still scarred or missing entirely. The scars are more than building materials, there is an ugly racial tension in NOLA. A hostilely and anger that I never sensed in the most diverse areas of New Jersey. NOLA is a very divided city, and was prior to the storm. Events of the aftermath just galvanized sides. Regardless of personal political views, what you see in the mirror will determine what side of the line you are placed.

Each side will have a different spin on events and tragedies from the storm. I'm sure the truth falls somewhere in the middle of the accounts

What we got here is....

I've been working through the temp agency. The past two days I have been digging ditches in St Bernard Parish. Literally digging ditches, Louisiana has this hard clay soil that you can only hope to chip at. Very hard work. I've been putting in 10 hour days, 8 bucks an hour. I'm going back tomorrow for another ten hours. I've been working at a strip mall being remodeled after Katrina. The entire area still looks a lot like what you remember from the news footage. Wrecked and vacant homes, boats just lying in the middle of empty lots.
Waffle understands how tough it is for me after being a cab driver for almost 5 years. As he puts it, "Being a cab driver is like being a veal." Today, about the ninth hour I started to think about this scene from "Cool Hand Luke."
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Yea, it's kind of how I've been feeling, but it's still better than being unemployed.

Standing in line..

5:30 am at the temp agency. I didn't get called up. I sat from 5:30 to 8:00 am listening to a jailhouse lawyer preaching about the evils of whitey. Considering I was the only Caucasian in a roomful of 15 to 20 men, I felt like a brother at a Klan meeting. I held my ground, I need work. Later on the Farrakhan wanna-be walked up to me outside while I was having a smoke. "Give me a smoke" "Sorry, can't help you" I got the nasty eye as he walked away. Dude, I drove cab in Asbury Park, I don't give up anything unless I see a weapon.

During his sermon I listened how "The Man" was systematically conspiring to keep the community down. I sat and thought about it. No one ever let me in on this conspiracy. First I ever heard of it. Over the two hours or so that Sharpten clone dominated the waiting room, I heard how whites and Jews were evil. Ironically, years ago I worked with a Redneck who said Blacks and Jews were evil. I guess the one thing all hateful and ignorant people can agree on is hating Jews. The only ones who don't hate Israel seem to be Conservative Christians. The same group accused being behind oppressing everyone else.
To the contrary, the overwhelming majority of white people I know want to see the black community succeed. All whites I talk to would want nothing more than all African Americans gainfully employed with good paying jobs. Most whites want to see all blacks live in safe, clean neighborhoods, black children in stable homes receiving good education. I bet the majority of law enforcement want to see a drop in black on black crime. They still can make money off of white yuppies speeding though town.

I listened to a local radio show here in New Orleans with a black host speak of the criminal acts of the NOLA Police during Hurricane Katrina. I'm sure there were civil right violations. Conversely, I have heard about the chaos and disorder in the days immediately following the disaster, I'm bet the truth lies somewhere in the middle.

There is a house in Nor'Leans....

Now the only thing a gambler needs
Is a suitcase and trunk
And the only time he's satisfied
Is when he's on a drunk

When I first tried to describe this house to my friends in Seattle, Colleen laughed "It sounds like the house from the movie 'Fight Club.' Well, yea, kind of.

Well, here it is. My latest temporary abode. $100 a week, I share it with a few other guys. One only uses it on the weekend when his band performs in town.
A Katrina house, the water marks are still visable on the outside wall. The floors are a little creeky, kind of musty smell and on the roof you can faintly read the word 'HELP' in faded house paint.
Here is a shot of my private entrance. Compared to the backhouse I rented in Belmar NJ on 11th Ave, it's not too bad. The 2nd story balcony in the front is right off my bedroom. I plan to get enough saved in a few months to get my own place.
Rents are reasonable down here. My last place in Belmar, I shared with two other guys. We each paid $700 towards the three bedroom house a few blocks from the ocean. $2,100 a month for a 3 bedroom winter rental. Durring the day, our landlord who worked in town would let himself in, use the bathroom and kitchen durring his lunch break. Last fall he told us that a friend of his would be in from out of town and was going to crash on our couch for a few days. All of that for $2,100 a month. Down here I've seen 2 bedroom houses going for $800 month. Also, I'm not sure but it may be a law that the landlord can't walk in anytime day or night without knocking, and he can't force you to share your rental with his drinking buddies. I don't miss Jersey.

Well, I got one foot on the platform
The other foot on the train
I'm goin' back to New Orleans
To wear that ball and chain

Be it ever so humble...

I found a place to live. $100 a week. Sharing an house with 3 other guys. It's a Katrina house, water marks are still visible about 5 feet up the outside of the wall. The downstairs has no Sheetrock from 4' down. The front door still has a spray painted X on it. The numbers are for the date searched and the number dead found. It's cheaper than Jersey.