What I Would Never Write

This week's prompt at Sunday Scribblings is "I would never write..."

I would never write things about other people that I wouldn't say to them in person. And I would never write something that I wouldn't be interested in as a reader. I think that may be it.

(You can see what others will never write about here.)

A Tale of Two Cities: Lower 9th Ward

The Garden District, the French Quarter, the Superdome... much of New Orleans has moved beyond recovery and has re-achieved normalcy. And the people of New Orleans want you to know that.

But they also want you to know that their hearts are broken. That the Katrina diaspora has broken up families and communities. And that people all over the country are trying to figure out how to get back home to New Orleans.

Mayor Nagin got re-elected and he's got his hands full. Wrecked infrastructures, debris to be cleared, buildings to be gutted, decisions to be made about who will and will not be supported in their desire to rebuild.

What's it like here? It's haunted. Not just by the people who died – over 1570 people in Louisiana alone – but by the lasting presence of the physical evidence of what people here simply call "the devastation."

Katrina made landfall on August 28th, 2005. I took these pictures in New Orleans' Lower Ninth Ward today, September 9th, 2006. There are no signs of life in the Lower Ninth Ward. Just block after block like this:



These homes were mostly uninsured. Their owners couldn't get FEMA trailers because there's no power or water here. So those folks are in Houston or Baton Rouge or crammed into some tiny space wearing out the welcome of their friends whose houses survived the storm. Some of them will decide not to come back. Some of them will come back no matter what. And all of them are hurting.

A Tale of Two Cities: Tulane

When you walk out the back door of Gibson Hall at Tulane University, this is the sight that greets you. This part of New Orleans is on high ground, relatively speaking. They are fine. If you sit down to lunch at the cafeteria in Bruff Commons, you might even luck into some honest-to-God gumbo and hush puppies:

And if your luck holds, you might get to talk with some of the students of this world-class university. They know that even though they've told the story hundreds of times, that you'll want to ask them if they would tell it again. What was it like, last year, to be here? What is it like now?

And what you learn, as you listen, is that Tulane University had an evacuation plan that worked. And that the rest of the country's schools opened their doors and hearts to Tulane's students as it became clear that no one would be returning to New Orleans anytime soon. But that when they had the chance, they came back. Ninety-four percent of the students who were expected to return did just that. This percentage, this rate of return, was HIGHER than it was the year before.

And when Tulane did re-open, despite the sobering magnitude of the work ahead, the mood on campus was triumphant. As the largest private employer in the city, Tulane knows that it can be an important source of revitalizing energy to a battered city. And to a person, the students, faculty, and staff of Tulane stand ready to rise to that challenge. "This is a great school, but there are lots of great schools. What makes this different is that this is a moment in time," said one of the students we spoke with as the others nodded in agreement. "This is Atlanta after the Civil War. This is San Francisco after the 1906 fire. This is our chance to be part of something bigger than ourselves."

Kind of makes you want to be a part of it, doesn't it?

Big Boy on the Block

Here he is, checking himself out on the first day of big boy school.

Me? I'm off to New Orleans to see for myself how Tulane and the city are faring a year after Katrina.

Him I'm not worried about.

The Moment It All Changes

D has been looking forward to "the big five" for what feels like 364 days. It's the first birthday that has really seemed to mean something to him. He was full of questions about when he could actually start answering the tired "how old are you?" question with the new number, rather than his cagey "4 and eleven-twelfths" or "almost practically five."

But then, as soon as the candles were out, he got a little case of cold feet. What if I'm not ready?, he seemed to be feeling.

Kid life isn't so different from adult life.

Birthday Sandwich

D was permitted to invite four good friends to his very first birthday party this year. He thought about it for about two seconds before putting his two Maryland cousins on the guest list.

And these smiles show just how right that decision was.

Back to School Haiku

Cool autumn daybreak
No child is calling for me
Still, I am awake

(Thanks to the women of One Deep Breath...
want to see some more solitude-themed haiku?)

Space: the final frontier

[cue Star Trek theme in background... the old one]

Here are D and his best friend from school this past year, deeply engaged in one of their many conversations about outer space.

They're five.

Even though they're only just starting to read (did you see that the book in the photo is upside down?), they know a lot about space. They know that the earth revolves around the sun, and they understand why life gets hot at the Equator. (They also know that there isn't really a line around the Earth there, but that we usually draw that line on our maps and globes.)

They know that space travel is dangerous, and that scientists think the universe is expanding. They know that some scientists believe that the frozen surface of Europa (one of Jupiter's moons, as you undoubtedly knew) might conceal a frigid but life-supporting sea.

And they learn more every day.

My eldest niece is three years older, and hopes to participate in the next series of manned missions to the Moon. Like the boys, she is displeased about the recent "demotion" of Pluto from the planetary ranks. "It used to be my favorite planet," she says, "and now what am I going to say when they ask me what my favorite planet is, which I'm pretty sure is one of the questions they're going to ask me!"


It is possible to remain immune to space fever. You may very well be one of those folks who feels that our limited financial resources are better spent on telescopes and rovers, that we can learn almost everything we need to know through less dangerous means than human space travel.

But I'm instinctively in favor of anything that gets people thinking about the Earth – or Gaia – and the life she sustains in these terms:

(Image courtesy of NASA's Earth Observing System flagship, Terra)

Especially as the evidence of our need to shape up continues to mount.

So put me down as pro-space, pro-exploration, pro-big dreams. Whatever the risks. And I don't even drink Tang.

(Thanks again to the women of Mama Says Om
for their continuing inspiration.)

Fortunes, Wishes, and Gifts

My Fortune Is

Resist convention. Follow instead the thread of your happiness. Tell stories.

My Story List (mostly just titles so far)

I like the idea of creating your own fortune cookie. What message would you be thrilled to read on that little strip of paper? What gift would you give yourself? I always loved the parts of folk tales in which the fairy godmothers bestowed gifts. Genii's, too. I used to plan for what I would do if someone showed up and offered me my three wishes. (Would using up an entire wish on the demise of all mosquitos be worth it? Or would it completely mess up the ecological balance? I remember agonizing over this one.) Eventually I gave up, figuring that it just wasn't meant to be.

But as I get older I wonder if maybe my fairy godmother just did her work quietly. Someone has given me some incredible gifts. My partner. Our son. My confidence in my own path even through those dark times when it seemed that I would be walking it alone.

(Thanks to the folks at Fortune Cookie Generator
and hello to all the Sunday Scribblers!)