Strength and Rebirth: New Orleans and the Lower Ninth Wednesday, Apr 4 2012

Bumper stickers at the House of Dance and Feathers, Lower Ninth Ward, March 2012, Taylor Frarie

It was our last night in the city; the air was warm and the city was alive. Despite the fact that it was around one in the morning the city was showing no signs of stopping anytime soon. It was then, as we were heading back to the van, that Shanti asked me what my favorite part of New Orleans had been. I thought about it, and gave her my honest answer: “I don’t know.”  I asked her the same question and she told me it was the spirit of rebirth that the city embodied.

I digested this and realized how perfect of an answer it was. I was even a little embarrassed that it did not come to my mind. When she had asked me I thought of obvious things like the food, the craziness, and the music. I know these are all a major part of the city, but when it comes down to it, none of that would be there if it weren’t for the strong inner spirit that the people of New Orleans have.

Levee along the Industrial Canal, Lower Ninth Ward, March 2012, Taylor Frarie

Thinking about it brought me back to the Lower Ninth Ward where we had visited on Sunday, our first day there. I just remember standing there when we learned about the destruction and how all the houses we were seeing would have been completely submerged in water. I tried to take it in, to fathom the magnitude of the damage and horror, but I just could not. It was surreal, like none of it had happened. But I know it did.  Even when we saw where the levee broke, it still didn’t quite hit me, and I don’t think it ever will. No one can imagine such an event unless it happens to them, the rest of us just have to try to do what we can to help. And people did try to help, just as residents tried to help each other.

Today the Lower Ninth Ward, even though it has a long way to go, is looking infinitely better. I remember long-time resident Ronald Lewis telling us that one of the things that made him happiest was the sight of children playing in the street in front of his house.  This hit me and I thought it was a beautiful way to describe it. It meant that life was truly coming back to his home and neighborhood. At first, I was surprised to learn that not all of the efforts into helping the Lower Ninth were fully appreciated. For instance, the modern and energy-efficient homes built by Brad Pitt’s “Make it Right” Foundation. But now I understand that many residents just wanted help getting back to their old lives, they didn’t want everything to change. They just needed some support to get back on their feet.

Cover of Dan Baum's "Nine Lives"

Although foundation support is mostly a good thing; I can see where the mixed feelings are coming from.  I think these feelings are embodied through a song written by Paul Sanchez for a musical based on the Dan Baum’s book “Nine Lives.” Ronald Lewis’s story is one of the nine. The chorus of that song states: “We were fine in the Lower Nine.” These words are drawn straight from Baum’s interview with Lewis. The song reflects Lewis’s exuberant pride in his neighborhood and helped me to further understand the feelings held by him and his neighbors.

As I walked down the streets of New Orleans for the last time, these were my thoughts. As music played and people laughed and danced and stumbled all around me, I knew that the city was once again a place of high spirits despite the tragedy and devastation that it had faced.  It took me some time, but I finally saw and realized that the spirit of rebirth was alive and well in New Orleans and I watched as it pulsed through the city. And maybe, I thought, this is my favorite thing too.

–Taylor Frarie–

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The REAL Spirit of New Orleans Monday, Apr 2 2012

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing but burn, burn, burn…” –Jack Kerouac

Bead work from Mardi Gras Indian outfit, House of Dance and Feathers, Lower Ninth Ward, March 2012

Looking back to the weeks before my first trip to New Orleans, I remember being nervous and wondering what to expect from a city known for its indescribable culture. After spending one day in the city, I was hooked. Our first day experiencing New Orleans as a class helped me to understand the spirit and culture of the city that Bill had been trying to describe to us for the first half of the semester.

Our first full day in New Orleans, we started off by heading to the Lower Ninth Ward to visit Ronald Lewis at The House of Dance and Feathers, the museum located behind his house. The bright colors from the Mardi Gras Indian costumes filling the room made it difficult to look away. Each costume was created with beautiful beadwork and details. It is one thing to see them in photographs or videos but it is a completely different story to see them in person.

Lower Ninth Ward, March 2006

Once everybody had settled into the museum, Ronald shared some of his experiences with Hurricane Katrina. While I had heard a lot about Katrina before visiting New Orleans, I didn’t truly understand how it affected the city and her people until hearing Ronald talk about his experiences. He helped me to understand the depth at which the people of the city were affected. One thing he said really stuck with me. When asked about the response to Katrina and the progress that has been made over the past few years he said, “It not the hot story, but it’s an ongoing story”. This was a really great thing to hear right before we started our work with Habitat for Humanity. Living in a world filled with daily disasters and news stories, it is hard to remember that the problems that occur from these events persist long after the hype goes down and volunteering is not longer the popular thing to do. This concept resonated with me and was something I carried with me as I volunteered and hope to remember now that I am back home and far away from the damage of Katrina and the people of New Orleans. So often people jump on the bandwagon to support issues but forget about them shortly afterwards. It makes sense, but it is a shame.

New homes, Lower Ninth Ward, March 2012. Gabby Chesney.

After having spent a little time in New Orleans, I know I won’t forget. I am excited to explore ways I can get involved and support the amazing and spirited people affected by Katrina from a distance. Ronald’s words were inspiring and so truthful. His spirit and passion were contagious. I love people like that, those are the ones who stick with you and change your outlook. 

 

I think many of the people I met in New Orleans embody this spirit. A city is nothing without the people who fill it. The people of New Orleans, so filled with the spirit of life and music and resilience, are the heartbeat of the city. Throughout the week we heard stories of people who suffered greatly after Katrina but returned to the city with a strong spirit and sense of hope.

Gabby and Ronald, House of Dance and Feathers, March 2012. Gabby Chesney.

Those are the stories that made the week we spent amazing. Without the people, New Orleans would just be a picturesque city by the water. Once you add these eclectic and passionate people, you have a place that is impossible to forget and sure to change you in one way or another. 

–Gabby Chesney–

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Fine in the Lower Nine Monday, Mar 12 2012

Ronald Lewis and the House of Dance and Fathers, March 2012

For the first time, the entire group went into New Orleans. And heading from Slidell, we logically, and by planning, went from east to west. First stop was the Lower Ninth Ward, arguably the part of the City hardest hit by the flooding after Hurricane Katrina.

We began our visit at 1317 Tupelo Street, home of Ronald Lewis and his backyard museum, the House of Dance and Feathers. I first met him last summer, but I got to know him several years ago in Dan Baum’s wonderful book, Nine Lives. Ronald’s voice, as relayed by Baum, captured me, and before they read the book, I wanted my students to meet Ronald and hear him and his wisdom in person.

Students with Ronald Lewis, March 2012.

Ronald was heading off to speak at a onference at Tulane, but he took the time to talk about his lifetime in the Lower Ninth, the Mardi Gras Indian and second line traditions, and his collection which represents both. The students were mesmerized, both by his experience and his knowledge. And his warmth. It was a great introduction to the Lower Ninth before heading over to the levee along the Industrial Canal, where the worst damage occurred. It is always sobering, but it was heartening to see slow, steady, and sustainable progress in a place where an entire neighborhood was swept from the face of the Earth.

Students with parade loot, March 2012. Photo by Cora Lehet.

After our informal tour, we parted ways, the students to get a bead fix at the Metairie St. Patrick’s Day Parade and me, to go to the Keep N It Real Social Aid and Pleasure Club second line in Mid City. The students had a ball tastefully collecting beads and throws from marchers at the parade in Metairie. And they caught cabbages, carrots, potatoes and onions thrown from the two level parade trucks — it is not a parade for the inattentive. It would be interesting to get a total weight of the beads they brought back and I heard a couple complaining of sore necks resulting from wearing so many beads. Needless to say: a good time was had by all.

I joined Kyle and his friends for the second line, which started at Bayou St. John and Orleans Avenue. In keeping with the Nine Lives theme of the day, the To Be Continued Brass Band played behind the dancers. Their formation, under the direction of band director Wilbert Rawlins, Jr., was also chronicled in the book; a story, which to me, created some of the most moving parts of the book. So, here they were, the driving for for the throng which pointed itself towards Treme. And one which would not stop dancing, drinking, and eating until several miles and hours later. We followed for a couple of miles before taking

Second Line parade with TBC Brass Band, Mid City, March 2012

the car to catch up with them as they entered Treme. Highlight: the band and marchers version of  ”A Closer Walk with Thee” that segued into “I’ll Fly Away.” Priceless.

We went into the City to listen to some great music and great musicians on Frenchmen Street, before polishing off three pounds of boiled crawfish. But the day was not over.

We reunited with the sunburnt and bead weary students at the Gentilly Baptist Church for a concert by singer, songwriter, guitarist Paul Sanchez. We were there as guests of Tom Brink and UNH Intervarsity, who are staying working in Gentilly. And it was fun for us to see and visit with friends and former students in a place far distant from Durham, NH.

Left to right: Alex McMurray, Paul Sanchez, and Arsene DeLay, Gentilly Baptist Church, March 2012.

And in keeping with the theme for the day, Sanchez has spent the last three years collaborating on writing a musical based on the book, Nine Lives. Alongside guitarist Alex McMurray and singer Arsene DeLay, niece of singer John Boutte, they would highlight and draw together our collective experiences.

For an hour and half, they brought tired students to their feet. Had them dancing. Singing. Sanchez opened with Arlo Guthrie’s “City of New Orleans” and later played one of my favorites, “At the Foot of Canal Street,” written in collaboration with John Boutte. My favorite part, however, were selections from the musical, including “Fine in the Lower Nine,” written in the voice of native son Ronald Lewis, and “It Could Have Been Worse,” which DeLay used to bring down the house. And it would not be the first time.

At about 9:30 p.m., the concert and singing and dancing and socializing wound down. What a day. The students still needed a beignet fix. I opted for a shower and some quiet time and instead headed back to Slidell. And when it was time to get up this morning, I was very happy I did.

Reader beware: these daily posts during spring break are often done on the run, usually in a McDonald’s. I generally don’t have the time to review or edit them as I might usually, and the chances that I’ll go back and catch things is limited. In advance, let me apologize for typos (especially this year since I am using a netbook) and missing words. It goes with the territory, but if I can, I ‘d rather post as often as time allows, albeit imperfectly.

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New Orleans: A Center for Entrepreneurship? Saturday, Mar 10 2012

“New Orleans is the opposite of America, and we must hold on to places that are the opposite of us. New Orleans is not fast or energetic or efficient, not a go-get-’em Calvinist, well-ordered city. It’s slow, lazy, sleepy, sweaty, hot, wet, lazy, and exotic.” Mark Childress

I have used the quote above in my syllabus for several years now. It expresses prevailing, widely accepted wisdom. It is the reason much of the Nation looked askance as New Orleans literally drowned. They we lazy, exotic, and enjoyed life far too much. To many, they didn’t deserve to be saved.

However, recent evidence suggests that like a Fox News narrative, it is based more oral myth than evidence. I started seeing some rumblings to overturn this narrative a while back. I reported on it a little over a year ago in a posting entitled: “Dying City,” or “Brain Magnet.” In that post, I reflected on the contradiction of using raw population data, reflecting New Orleans’ population loss after Katrina (well, duh!), with the fact that New Orleans ranks number one in the U.S. in attracting college-educated youth. And, as a recent op-ed column in the Times-Picayune suggests, it is not all due to an influx of volunteers for Teach for America. Not there is anything wrong with that.

Walter Issacson photo, Times-Picayune, March 2012.

On Tuesday, March 6, 2012, journalist and native-son Walter Isaacson wrote a wonderful op-ed on this phenomenon. And for a multiply-challenged city that is approaching its tricentennial, he illuminated the error  of looking only at short-term trends. Nor, as he pointed out, should innovation be measured only by a balance sheet.

And this challenges my assumptions about my favorite city, but new perspectives, even if they ultimately prove you wrong are good. Right?

Isaacson convincingly argues that throughout its history, New Orleans has exemplified an entrepreneurial spirit. I mean, if you go back to the fact that due to its location, it is a city that should never have happened. But that is the crux of his argument. It emerged from an uneven colonial history, at best, to become the most vibrant immigrant community in the South.  It has, in succession, welcomed Haitian, British, Irish, German, Jewish, Greek, Italian, Middle Eastern Christian and Muslim, and most recently, Latin American immigrants, And the addition has made it a stronger and more vibrant community.

New, energy efficient homes in the Lower Ninth Ward, New Orleans, March 2011.

And then came Katrina, a man-made catastrophe that many feared would be the death knell for a city, nearly half of which (49%) lies below sea level. Ivisited a few months afterwards and it was difficult to imagine that it would come back. And as I write this from Chalmette in St. Bernard Parish, which like outlying areas of New Orleans, is not close to coming back to pre-Katrina norms.

But. As Isaacson points out, New Orleans had fallen into complacency before Katrina. It had watched it economy recede, and was willing to become the party city of beads, breasts and booze. So, who would have bet on a comeback for such a lethargic and tradition-bound contestant.

Instead, this week, New Orleans is hosting New Orleans Entrepreneur Week. And to Isaacson, every native who stood up and said “we are going to stay and rebuild” was a nascent entrepreneur.  It was an inspiration and it has attracted an unprecedented level of innovation and new ventures, many spawned by college-educated migrants to the Crescent City.

Look to the award-winning, albeit slow development of the Lower Ninth Ward. New Orleans is now a model for for our Nation’s reinventing itself economically and sustainably.

So it is not just the stubborn residents, but young MBAs from elsewhere who are driving an economic resurgence in New Orleans. So no longer is New Orleans, the semi-Caribbean step-child of America, it is the personification and bell-weather of American innovation. Its example may indeed lead us forward.

And I’ll be among the first to admit it: I was wrong. The emerging facts prove that I was wrong. And I believe in facts.

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Things to Do in New Orleans — Part 1 Thursday, Mar 1 2012

We’re about a week away from heading down to New Orleans. In addition to working with Habitat for Humanity in St. Tammany Parish, we will be experiencing the history and culture of New Orleans. And in looking ahead, we will have plenty of opportunities to do just that.

Lower Ninth Ward, March 2010

You’ll be arriving in Slidell next Saturday. If you arrive early enough, we can go into the City. If it a little later, there is a fire pit where we are staying. We can can hang out. Rest after 30 hours on the road. And be well prepared for an action packed Sunday.

On Sunday morning we will head down to the Lower Ninth Ward, ground zero for flooding from the levee failures after Hurricane Katrina. We’ll head to the intersection of Tennessee and Galvez, once the center of a vibrant and close-knit community.  Much of it was washed away in August 2005 and of the all the neighborhoods hit by Katrina, it has been the slowest to be rebuilt.  Many of the houses near the levee are the product of Brad Pitt’s Make it Right initiative. The houses are innovative and sustainable. And other charities have built houses in the Lower Ninth.  Development has been slow, but it is being recognized as a model of sustainability.

Kendra and Ronald Lewis, House of Dance and Feathers, June 2011

After that, we’ll head over to 1217 Tupelo Street, also in the Lower Ninth. There we will visit one of the most personal museum collections anywhere. We are going to visit Ronald Lewis’ home grown museum, the House of Dance and Feathers. Long before Katrina, Lewis, who spent years repairing street car tracks, began collecting Mardi Gras Indian and Second Line memorabilia from the Lower Ninth of his birth. Remarkably, much of his collection survived the flood. And since, he has built a place for people to come and appreciate his handiwork and the work of others.

Afterwards, I’ll turn you loose. I suspect most of you will head over to Metairie for the St. Patrick’s Parade. There you find beads and catch cabbages. As fun as that sounds, I’ll likely be off chasing a Second Line parade (I plan to catch the Irish Channel St. Patrick’s Parade on March 17th). In the evening, we’ll meet with our friends from UNH Intervarsity for a concert  by New Orleans born singer, song writer, guitarist Paul Sanchez. I saw him for a brief set with John Boutte several years back, so I’m looking forward to hearing him again.

St. Patrick's Day Parade, March 2010

Uncharacteristically,  we have Monday off, so we will make full use of it. I’d like to hit the City early so we can visit some of the cemeteries. Afterwards, I’ll leave it up to groups. Whether you want to kick around the French Quarter, take the ferry to Algiers, or ride the streetcar uptown — it’s up to you. All I know, we have to back out in Slidell by 1:30pm for a swamp tour on the Pearl River watershed.  Hopefully, it will be warm and sunny so that we get bored seeing alligators and other reptiles.

Afterwards, I suspect we’ll head back to the Peace Mission Center, have dinner, gather around a fire, and call it a day. Stay tuned for Part 2. I’m still looking at what music is playing week after next.

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Lower Ninth Ward, 2011 Saturday, Feb 11 2012

The Lower Ninth Ward, at the intersection of Galvez and Tennessee. I have returned to this place every year since 2006 and I have taken my students there every year since 2007. A student in last year's class, Sonja Loeser, captured a shot of me that I think reflects the sad history of this once vibrant neighborhood, March 2011.

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Hurricane Katrina Plus Six Friday, Aug 26 2011

On August 20, 2005, after attending a conference in New Orleans, I took off from Louis Armstrong International Airport to return home. As we flew across Lake Pontchartrain I remember looking back to the strange, little city that I had ever-so-slowly grown to love. At that point, Katrina was a small tropical storm forming in the Atlantic. Little did I know that nine days later, it would change the city that I left behind forever.

Six years after Hurricane Katrina and the subsequent failure of the levee system, much of the east coast is waiting and watching Hurricane Irene as it inches northward up the coast.  As a North Carolina native, I know that there will be stubborn folks on the Outer Banks who’ll stay behind, because that’s what they do.  And I suspect that my alma mater, East Carolina University in Greenville, will be unofficial host to more than a few hurricane parties. However, during the intervening years, governments and emergency management agencies have studied and learned from the myriad of failed responses to Katrina. And hopefully, what they have learned will help reduce damage and loss of life from this impending storm.

And on this anniversary, we still need to  remember the people of the Gulf Coast. Six years, millions of volunteer hours, and billions of dollars in aid later, there are still communities and neighborhoods that will never be the same.  From New Orleans eastward to Alabama nearly 2,000 people lost their live in the flood and thousands more evacuated and never returned. And weeks later, along the bayous to the west, Hurricane Rita, prolonged the regional agony. Six years hence, much has been done, but there is so much more that needs to be done.

In the Upper Ninth Ward, this week’s opening of the Ellis Marsalis Center for Music punctuates the end of construction at Musicians’ Village; however, hundreds of houses in the neighborhood have been torn down, while other blighted structures remain unclaimed and/or unoccupied. And this is true in varying degrees in neighborhoods throughout the City.

To this day, many of the streets in the Lower Ninth Ward are dirt, gravel, or broken pavement. Sidewalks, if they existed at all, are cracked and overgrown. On the sixth anniversary of the storm, New Orleans has secured $45 million to repair streets in the Lower Ninth and to assess repair needs in other parts of the City. So progress, albeit excruciating slow, continues.

And this is a victory for the past, current, and future residents of the Lower Ninth. As some proposed that the area be bulldozed and returned to wetlands, residents fought for their generations-old community; it was something that belonged to them and they fought to let others know that is was something worth saving. In August 2005 and afterwards, they were betrayed, not by nature, but by their own government. Nevertheless, they will gather this weekend to remember and celebrate, as neighborhood pleasure and social clubs, Mardi Gras Indian gangs, and brass bands come out, not just to recall the death and destruction, but to celebrate their determined survival as a community.

So, from Biloxi, MS, to Shell Beach in St. Bernard Parish, from New Orleans East to Lakeview in New Orleans, and from Metairie, LA to the Texas border; residents will be thinking of and praying for those along the east coast. But in addition, they’ll be remembering what happened to them in 2005, all the while taking stock of their own survival, stubbornness, and resilience.

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A Tale of Two Cities Friday, Mar 26 2010

Sunday was a sleepy, weird sort of day. I woke up early in my Central Business District hotel, even though I was exhausted. And, at the time, I didn’t know that I was coming down with an infection. The last thing I wanted was to be challenged intellectually, but I’ve often found that New Orleans does that to you; if you stop long enough to peer beneath the surface, the City is lousy with great puzzlements.

I walked down to the waterfront and got a large cup of cafe au lait, eschewing the beignets since I was going out for a pricey brunch later. For one, it was uncharacteristically cold and blustery, more typical of January than mid-March, and my fleece vest and windbreaker were ill-equipped to fight the chill. I took in the view of the river, as working tugs and barges busily plied the waters while a cruise liner was being outfitted for a trip to the Western Caribbean. Before heading to the brunch, I stopped by my hotel to warm up and do a bit of writing. I decided to drop a layer since I was only going around the block.

I met Burt and Jeannie at the Veranda of the Hotel Intercontinental around 12:30pm. My jeans and plaid shirt attested to the fact that this was not my scene, as I would usually be perched on the stool at some hole-in-the-wall diner. But as it turned out, we were not there for the creole-style buffet (which was quite varied and delicious), the make-your-own bloody Mary station (the pickled okra were a nice touch), or the opulently appointed surroundings and guests; we were there primarily for the music.

As well-heeled locals, convention attendees, and NCAA basketball fans passed in and out, we spent nearly two hours listening to Dr. Michael White on clarinet and Greg Stafford on trumpet, accompanied by guitar and bass, as they languidly went through their repertoire of traditional New Orleans music. The two had been in New Hampshire only 20 days before, but it was a pleasure to catch them in a more informal, albeit lavish, venue. Suits and ties notwithstanding, it would have been better still in some weathered dance hall; the local incubators for this music about a century ago.

During breaks we had a chance to catch up a bit. We all bemoaned the fact that the Indian parade had been postponed a week. Even though the sight of Mardi Gras Indians on St. Joseph’s Night had been a singular experience, I learned that when traveling in the company of folklorists that there’s always room for more local spectacle. That is when Greg offered that there was a second line parade winding its way through the Uptown neighborhoods. I knew I was in trouble and also, that I could not say no. Within moments of the music ending and paying our tab, we were in the car and heading Uptown.

We traced the route as outlined on Greg’s map, but could not find the parade anywhere. We finally decided to go to the end point — the intersection of Toledano and Rocheblave in the Broadmoor neighborhood. One guy had a grill set up and there were a few people milling about, but they assured us that the parade would end right there. We drove off again to know avail. Had it been cancelled? Did police force them away from their planned route? Or, as I suspected, did they find a nice cozy bar and decide not to brave wind-chills in the 30s? Given that I only had my windbreaker, that would have been my choice.

We passed through neighborhoods that were in trouble before Katrina. And the aftermath had left many homes, businesses and institutions in disrepair. And many of those residents, businesses, or institutions simply had not come back. But, there is a spirit that resides in the people who have returned and I feel it grow with every year I return. And I suspect that the Saints’ Super Bowl victory, coupled with the the fact that Katrina grows smaller in the City’s rear view mirror, is helping feed that spirit. That is not meant to suggest that serious problems remain, but these are a stubborn people with a strong sense of place, who cling tirelessly to tradition, especially if that tradition is somehow tied to having a good time.

So there we were: three, very white college professors, standing in the median (neutral ground in New Orleans-speak) of a working-class, African-American neighborhood, waiting for a neighborhood parade. We had no clue where it came from or why or for what purpose. But by the time we returned to the endpoint, there were a couple of hundred people, a half-dozen barbecues blazing and an equal number of pick-up trucks selling beer and soda off the back. I don’t have to use the adjective cold before “beer” or “soda,” because every damned thing was cold, especially me.

So, we wandered back to the neutral ground on Toledano and talked to some of those waiting for the second line. They were angry that the Indians’ Super Sunday parade had been postponed and blamed the City, not the notoriously unpredictable Indians. They also suspected that the NOPD had thrown this second line parade off route, thereby delaying its finale. Forget that there were planned stops at bars and private homes for refreshments along the way. My favorite response was from a woman about my age, who seemingly saw herself as an interpreter for us. In the midst of our conversation, in response to no question, she pointed to the meager second line coming up the street and said: “It’s Sunday and after church we want to party. It’s what we do.” And who can argue with that.

The second line included two or three social clubs, dressed to the nines, carrying fans or umbrellas or other symbols of their club. They danced to the drum rhythms and sousaphone-driven baseline of the Stooges Brass Band and another unidentified band. The crowd was far bigger than the parade and by they time it reached its end, the crowd had probably swollen to seven or eight hundred. The dancers and musicians occupied the center of the intersection and after a a couple of tunes, the former retreated to the warmth of one of the bars and the latter shouldered their instruments and headed home or to their next gig. We left as the crowd refocused on po-boys filled with freshly grilled meat. Still full from my extravagant brunch, I was just glad to get into the warmth of the car.

We headed downtown because Jeannie wanted to see Musician’s Village in the Upper Ninth Ward and some of Brad Pitt’s “Make It Right 9″ homes in the Lower Ninth Ward. Afterwards, we tried to go to the late Ernie K-Doe’s Mother-in-Law Lounge (below) on Claiborne, but it was locked shut.

I had Burt drop me off at my hotel, went in to thaw out, and then dressed about as warmly as I could. I took Royal Street across the Quarter and for one last time enjoyed the musical buffet that is Frenchmen Street. After savoring jazz at the Spotted Cat and DBA, I ended up at Blue Nile. There I saw another side of New Orleans, as they were holding their weekly salsa night. Free dance lessons, Latin food a la carte, and recognition of the fastest growing segment of New Orleans’ population.

As enjoyable as it was, I stepped out into the cold and crossed the Quarter on Decatur Street. The streets were close to deserted, which to me symbolized the fact that my annual trip was drawing to a close.

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Another Beautiful Day in New Orleans Monday, Mar 15 2010

The late night before made for a slow start. I spent a while at McDonald’s, drinking coffee and using their free WIFI. The leaders got everybody up by 11am and a little after noon we were heading back into the City. It was probably the best day of the week: lows 70s, bright sunshine with a little breeze, especially out in the Lower Ninth where we started the day.

For the uninitiated, the drive east across New Orleans is a sobering experience. Many homes in the Upper Ninth are still uninhabitable and a large percentage of businesses there have not returned, even nearly five years later. And then you cross the Industrial Canal into the Lower Ninth. Large patches of weeds and slab foundations remain where houses used to stand. And as bare as that scene is, it doesn’t belie the devastation and profound remnants of human habitation left by the broken levee. Still, there is progress. In the shadow of the new levee, about two dozen news homes have sprung up, many constructed by Brad Pitt’s foundation Make It Right Nine. Even so, the modern, sustainable homes, while architecturally innovative are in stark contrast to what once stood, as well as to those still standing a few blocks away. I suspect this might be jarring to some residents of the neighborhood; at least those lucky enough to have returned. Nevertheless, it represents progress.

We left there to travel across town to the Audubon Zoo, where they were holding the last day of a two-day Soul Fest. The difference in the neighborhoods could not be more drastic, as we left weed strewn lots for oak lined streets lined by 19th century mansions. The disparity did not escape the students. And many tourists who visit only the French Quarter and Uptown neighborhoods can easily come and go and not understand the work, both structurally and socially that remains.

We braved lines of traffic and at the gate to get into the zoo. Most students had some time to actually see animals before jazz trumpeter Irvin Mayfield and the Rebirth Brass Band closed the festival. The set was high energy and the crowd was exuberant and engaged. It did not really feature Mayfield’s considerable talents as he joined in with Rebirth’s standard repertoire and as much as I enjoy his gifts as a player that was all right by me. The set included trademark tunes like “Casanova,” “Do Whatcha Wanna,” and “Feel Like Funkin’ It Up,” among others. The zoo closed soon thereafter, but not before I snagged some samples of the soul food as the vendors closed shop.

The trip back downtown had similar traffic trials, but virtually everyone ventured to the French Quarter and/or Marigny for a brief while. I took advantage of the warm weather to walk the streets for good examples of ironwork and Creole cottages. At the Spotted Cat, I caught most a set from a talented bunch of young musicians named the “Loose Marbles.” The rhythm section was quite good, most notably the tuba player and pianist. Alas, fatigue set in and I returned back to the West Bank and Madonna Manor.

Within a half hour, everyone was back together under the same roof. Spirits were good, but the sun, long night before, and anticipation of a week of hard work set-in for everyone. It is quiet now, but that will change in a few hours as over two dozen students and I scramble to get ready and out by 6:30am, in order to make the trek to Gentilly for our first day of work with Operation Helping Hands.

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