Cold Spaghetti

“Agua” = any liquid
“Shark” = the automated pool cleaner
“Gato” = any cat (tigers included)
“Stuck” = anything he can’t open
“Need help!” = I want to do something I shouldn’t be doing
Straining grunt = how he greets anyone on the toliet
“Bye bye, do do!” = what is said when any toilet flushes
“Bubbie!” = breasts, ie: what is said when walking past ladies’ lingerie department
“Hungry!” = I’m not really hungry but I want to delay bedtime
“Eat!” = I’m ready for food
“No” = answer to statements like, “Will, it’s time to brush your teeth.”
“Golf ball” = favorite game
“Wat ap-pin?” (aka: What happened?) = Something did not just go my way

Paul and friend Alex (a PhD student in my cohort, whose great kids I’ve talked about in this blog) spent yesterday working through his house in Lakeview. Lakeview is a beautiful family neighborhood in the north of the city boarding on Lake Pontchartrain. It was a top contender in our home search, ruled out only because I was so enamored with the Audubon Park area that I stubbornly refused to look outside of it. Lakeview was badly flooded by the breech of the 17th street levee, the levee that divides Orleans and Jefferish Parish on the north west side of town.

As described by Paul, the destruction in the neighborhood is beyond words. Roughly 7 feet of water engulfed Alex’s house, filling the first story. Although the second story was spared the damage of rising water, they found the front door open and the dry rooms looted. They said that the looting looked methodical, obviously took time, and had every indication of being from a relief worker or other officer; heavy boot prints fill the house where all drawers were searched, a hall safe broken open, and every small valuable carried out in a basket stolen from the front room.

They have taken hundreds of pictures, although Paul reports that they absolutely cannot do the reality justice. When combined with the smells, the heat, and the sounds, the totality of the destruction can only be realized. Little things remind you of what occurred: Alex’s house once had a back porch. It is gone, no indication of where it went, how it left their back yard, or where it now resides. A two-story staircase sits on his back fence, no idea from where it came. The piles of debris more than one can take in. They work slowly, hearing the noises of trucks, beeping of alarms, and buzzing of insects.

My Dad went to check on Will before retiring and found Will fast asleep, sitting straight up in his crib. Who can sleep sitting up? He laid him back down and the little guy didn’t so much as grunt. What a little monkey!

How can one tiny child, who isn’t even two years old, be such a monkey???!!!

— Two trips to the pool
— Multiple walks around the neighborhood where he: chased birds, tried to grab bumble bees, attempted to eat acorns and berries, checked the mailbox at least 57 times, and stomped on ants
— Two household water accidents: one where he flooded the floor of Granna’s bathroom with the hand-held water spigot for the bathtub in the thirty seconds it took me to throw away his diaper; and another when my Mom, who was holding him, was on the phone and didn’t see him turn the sink spigot over the floor and turn on the water full blast, soaking her, a cat, and the floor
— Many, many, MANY games of “golf ball”
— Many, many, MANY trips up and down the stairs
— Emptying three drawers in our bedroom and playing in the piles of clean clothes
— 700 grapes, 1 cup of pudding, an apple, potatoes, vegetable soup, goldfish crackers, corn, peas, baked chicken, OFB, scrambled eggs, toast, and ham
— At least 5 bowel movements (complete with Will flushing it down the toilet calling “bye, bye, do-do!!”)

How can a 1-year-old go through all of that in one day and STILL be crazy????

After a whirlwind of shopping and packing supplies (bleach, tarps, heavy-grade masks, pump sprays, hundreds of garbage bags, etc., etc.) Paul left this morning for Joseph Street.

Even with the detour he had to take around the city (I-10 over the Lake is still out of commission and there is no getting into the city from the East) he arrived in a little over 3 hours reporting a smooth, light traffic, drive. He called as he pulled up and I got the first-hand impressions.

Our house:
Is generally in very, very good shape. Some long stretches of missing siding and lost shingles. No paint on the house. Both pines in the backyard destroyed. The remainder of the fence left after Cindy is now leaning on our neighbor’s house. The other neighbor’s brand new fence is in their yard. Inside, musty, but better than expected. Fridge salvagable due to Walt’s early clean-out. One of the a/c units wasn’t working (safety had tripped), a quick fix from Paul. A lot of beeping from smoke alarms whose batteries are dead (bummer, we didn’t think of this so he didn’t have 9-volt batteries!) He flushed the household water to the street for 15 minutes or so and reported it looking good (no discoloration or sediment). We have gas and power. He made my day by saying that many of my houseplants (including my first orchid, the only one to survive the move from Michigan) may actually be saved.

The neighborhood:
In Paul’s words, the city is “a war zone.” He said that things looked good from his vantage driving in River Road (which runs along the riverside levee into uptown from Jefferson Parish)… until he realized that every power and telephone pole he was seeing was brand new. The smell “changed” about a mile out of the city and although he says it isn’t as bad in Uptown, is still striking. In reference to the debris and the clean-up ahead, he said words like “unimaginable” and “unbelieveable.” Trash, flies, sealed refridgerators, debris and rotten garbage is everywhere. He felt he could be there all week and still not finish the clean-up around our little house and tiny yard. (Our yard is roughly 30 x 120, with 23 x 80 of that covered by house… not a big space!) A walk around the neighborhood gave him hope and brought a great upbeat tone to his voice: neighbors were everywhere, cooking out, swapping drinks, and cleaning up… he described a regular evening of conversation and friendly faces.

We are very hopeful of getting back as a family by the end of the month at the latest!

…with a huge box of goodies from Gwen! She sent a bunch of her pregnancy garb (she’s like 4 days post-partum and already sending over maternity clothes…!) with anti-nausea remedies (preggie pops and sea bands), stickers, and fun maternity note cards. I’m not sure if the bands are really working (lunch didn’t really last long) but I sure am wearing them! One of the tops went to use today, too! What a great surprise!

Interesting discussion I’ve somewhat unwittingly started. Hate to stop a productive thing, so…

I actually don’t think there is an organized conspiracy to kill poor blacks in America. However, I do believe (and have science to support it) that our government’s policies and false ideologies promote hurtful and even deadly outcomes for our nation’s poor, most specifically American blacks. And yes, I do believe that in the deepest, darkest recesses of the hearts of our nation’s rulers, in those places they don’t talk about at parties, they feel that the best thing for the country would be a mass cleansing of poor blacks from our world. And more, I don’t think it’s all that secret. Quoting Richard Baker, the republican representative from Louisiana, in the days immediately following the storm: “We finally cleaned up public housing in New Orleans. We couldn’t do it, but God did.” Doesn’t this sound like someone who just wants to rid himself of a problem, not serve the needs of people?

The idea that poverty is a problem of lazy, dependent people is a folk notion: a common sense belief based on dominant views that are so pervavise that they are accepted as fact. It is a notion so ingrained in our pysches it is hard to know where to begin to debunk it. Further, where I have the biggest problem is that this becomes linked automatically to blacks, and specifically, to black women: who, in line with folk notion, are unmarried, government dependent, baby makers. In very simple terms, the science on poverty, reproduction, and labor not only refutes these false ideas, but in many cases completely blows it all out of the water.

This is why Bennett’s comments make me crazy. People will balk at his comments as inappropriate; it’s obviously in bad taste to suggest that an entire generation be eliminated due to the color of their skin. However, in the back of their minds, folks actually think that this would be a good thing: that restricting black women’s reproductive capacity would in fact, reduce crime, possibly lower welfare roles, and do a heck of a lot of other positive things. And again: the science and the truth of the issue will be ignored. Part of our comfort is in believing these false facts. It’s much easier to blame the poor for poverty than it is to recognize the complexities of it.

I don’t particularly feel the need to write a scientific discourse on this in a blog, although I certainly have academic material that I’ve written in the past (fully cited and referenced) that I’d be happy to pass on. (Delighted, actually… reproduction and poverty is essentially the stuff that gets me up in the morning.) My academic training and experience is heavy in the study of poverty and I think it’s important to keep this type of discourse open in friendly conversation. I do not believe, nor have much respect for, the “branding” of America, where we all stay a-political and without opinion at the risk of offending. We should be talking about these issues because they matter.

Some have balked at my earlier comments about the role of poor, nonwhites left in New Orleans to weather hurricane Katrina, as I argue that their role was to perish. I stand by my assertion of modern genocide; that the government system wants nothing more than to rid itself of those whom they feel are undesireables. The mis-education and mis-information of a conservative society (which we are) promotes false ideology regarding wealth (that it is earned, not something gained from privilege), work (that if you work hard enough and play by the rules, no matter what your circumstance, you get ahead), reproduction (that early childbearing, wrongly understood as a problem among poor nonwhites, equals any number of ills), and poverty (that it is a self-supporting “culture,” not a socially induced position). In America, all of these untrue, unfounded, and misguided ideologies are connected to race, or more specifically, being black.

This ideology plays out in many ways. The comments by former education secretary, now conservative talk-show host, William J. Bennett, are an example. In Bennett’s words: “if you wanted to reduce crime, you could — if that were your sole purpose — you could abort every black baby in this country, and your crime rate would go down.”

How is this okay? How is anyone okay with this?

Will rides his popper lawnmower (aka: the favorite 6am toy) while Granna pushes!  

The Scheib’s are in heaven over the love we’ve been bestowed from my Birds. (For those uninitiated, the Birds are my college girlfriends.)

Christie (and David) sent a huge Junior’s Cheesecake — right in time for my Dad’s birthday (today!) So, not only did she send a big piece of heaven, but also got me out of having to bake a cake!

Steph (and Mike) sent a package with tons of assorted fun: a beautiful maternity top, pedicure set, fun smellies, AND… Oat Fudge Bars. A recipe perfected by Julie, our usual connection to the OFB supply, and magically made by Steph. OFB, a staple dietary item in the life of any Bird, are simply the end-all be-all in ooey-gooey baking perfection.

My Mother, after getting a mouthful of complete bliss only described by the OFB experience, exclaimed: “It’s like being looked down on by angels!” “No, Mom,” I said, “Birds.”