Cold Spaghetti

Kate has the pincher grasp down.
We figured it was happening based on observation, but knew for sure she had it when we quickly rushed to baby-hemlich a piece of food (which had rolled under the pocket door out of sight) from her throat. Maybe it was a sign she wanted some food to chew?

Then later the same day, she ripped part of a sandwich from my hand and stuffed it into her mouth. Point taken, Kate.So at some point in the past few days (what a blur of a week) I gave Kate a piece of Zwieback toast to gnaw on in her high chair. (Thank goodness she is finally big enough to really sit in her high chair… the Bumbo, wonderful little plastic mold that it is, has become completely unhelpful in feeding. As a gymnastic tool, it’s wonderful though!)Will asked for a piece of toast, too. I gave one to him. And I spread cream cheese on one and ate it. Then Paul came in:
“Where did you find this?”
“We had it leftover from someone.”
“Did you check the expiration?”
“Of course. It expires at the end of the month; we’ve got some time.”
“Holly. It expired the end of February… LAST YEAR.”
Apparently I didn’t drink enough coffee that day. The bottom line was that everything was sealed, unopened, and tasted fine. No one was sick. Will asked for seconds. And Kate enjoyed her first bread!

We uploaded the Nightline segment on the violence surge in New Orleans that discusses Helen’s murder to youtube. In short, the piece cuts down to heartstrings and buzz points. Emmy (Abeona’s amazing director) provides a wonderful interview, even if the clip edits out much of her thoughtful and poignant commentary. Our kids are featured (Will included, although mostly hidden at the lunch table). Several of my photographs (4, I think) are featured, although uncredited. Kate and I are in a group photo from the March (taken by Paul, uncredited). While the clip is respectful, it falls short on content. The grinding poverty exposed and exacerbated by Katrina and its relationship to violence are not discussed. The spot was between an Oscar story related to the best picture snub for Dreamgirls and physical signs of rudeness in France. Make what you will of that.

I also found these march/rally videos. This one features Dora (friend, Abeona parent, and ShoeNami shopkeeper) in the very beginning.

Helen’s husband, Paul, wrote a moving piece in the Times-Picayune. It came at at wonderful time. I’ve been seething about Riley’s assertion of Paul’s withholding information for days; too frustrated and angry to speak or write a thing about it. What can I say? Warren Riley is a horrible, ineffective leader. He lies, points fingers, distorts truth and by doing so, provides one more reason why New Orleans and her people struggle. He is an embarrassment. How dare he.

Our photos from the March/Rally may be viewed here.

Our Coffee-welding angels…
Starbucks came to Abeona on Friday, giving us hope beyond our dreams. They flew in the day before and arrived bright and early, bearing gifts, surprises, and helping hands. Among the tangible gifts were mulch as a temporary fix to the backyard (which was getting muddier and muddier by the day), $2000 in donations that they had raised from their Seattle co-workers, coffee, hot chocolate and pastries for parents and teachers, and a huge assortment of coffee beans with a bean grinder! Perhaps even more uplifting was the interest, compassion, and enthusiasm they shared. They seemed to truly grasp the scope of Abeona, our challenges, triumphs, and special magic .
The morning was spent with the mulch — Abeona folks and Starbucks partners wheeled in and emptied several dozen bags of mulch, making a huge “mountain” in the yard. Then the 2s and 3s were brought out… who can resist a mountain of mulch?? They knew what to do. (Photos of the morning here.)
Will had enough mulch in his Bob the Builder underwear to nicely cover the diffenbachia potted on our front porch.

Once they’d jumped and climbed their hearts out, teachers passed out kid-size shovels and rakes for the kids to get to work spreading it out in the yard. Few things are cooler than giving a bunch of preschoolers a serious job and watching them hop to it with the intensity of Olympians preparing for their event.
We are so thrilled that these people, from the other side of the country, took such an honest and sincere interest with us. On any given day, we feel isolated, misunderstood, and forgotten. The tragedy of New Orleans and our struggle to save this important city — somehow, these have become passé, old-news, out-of-fashion. Being here is hard. Feeling forgotten is a big part of why.
One of the many positive aspects of Starbucks’ visit was how it made us realize how far Abeona has come. With so much looming ahead and so many challenges yet to face, there have not been many opportunities to see our progress. More than ever, I am inspired and amazed by peers in this city and by the fantastic space we’ve created.

Paul’s Mom knitted this beautiful sweater for Kate — how amazing is that?! I’ve been terrified of using it but decided to take advantage of the cooler temps, the beautiful afternoon, and the fact that it is one of the last Thursdays I’ll have with Kate before she joins her brother at school 5 days a week.
After encouragement from Matt and others, I’ve started shooting in RAW format and am playing with photo processing software. If I were in Peru, I’d go to “the guy” for Photoshop… but since I’m not, it’s free Adobe Lightroom for now. Not that I know what I’m doing with either of them.
Matt told us he’d bring his monitor calibration tools and adjust the monitor to true color, so I may start printing without processing edits. I’m very excited about this new side to photography and hope to soak all I can from Matt while he and awesome wife Laura visit during Mardi Gras!

Paul and I sent a letter out to family and friends at the holidays talking about Abeona House. I’m copying parts of that letter here. We are eager for support towards a variety of Abeona initiatives. There are Reggio-related equipment and resources needed for our classrooms, teaching tools needed to follow Reggio documentation and community learning (things like a digital camera), and funds needed for our hardship assistance program (which subsidizes needy families and allows us to continue to serve a range of incomes on a sliding scale). Should you, your family, or an organization you are involved with be interested in making a donation, providing resources, or holding a fundraiser, please contact us or Abeona House for more information. Please be a part of our magical space!

The story of Abeona, as experienced by Paul and I:

When we returned post-Katrina to find that the quality childcare we had depended on was no longer available, we decided to join other parents to explore other options. These efforts lead to the founding of Abeona House in November 2005. It took us almost a year of work to open. Parent volunteers gave nearly 2,000 hours and contributed over $30,000 in no-interest loans to finance its start. In September 2006, Abeona opened with a full roster of 32 enrolled children (age 6 weeks to 5 yrs) and a waitlist of 60 and growing. Paul and I remain deeply involved with the school; Paul is the President of the Board of Trustees and I volunteer each week.

The Abeona House Child Discovery Center is a non-profit, parent-led organization that arose out of the need for high-quality childcare in post-Katrina New Orleans. Named after the Roman Goddess Abeona, who watches over children when they leave their mother’s care, it is the only center in the city that uses the Reggio-Emilia early education philosophy to guide its programming. Like Abeona House, the Reggio approach was borne out of community response to disaster. After World War II, citizens of the town of Reggio nell’Emilia, Italy, decided to use the remnants of destroyed buildings to create a school. Being dissatisfied with the current state-run early childhood programs, the philosophy grew out of a desire to create an environment where children could acquire skills of critical thinking and collaboration essential to rebuilding a society. At Abeona House, we honor this philosophy and strive to create a learning, nurturing environment that respects the individuality of each child, encourages parental involvement and appropriately rewards teachers and staff.

Abeona fills a critical niche in New Orleans as a supportive learning community that provides quality childcare at a sliding cost scale. Like Paul and I, many of the other Abeona families are “on the edge” – financially and emotionally – with our decision to stay in New Orleans. Participation in the creation of Abeona has given us grounding and a sense of community that we lost after the storm. The school’s holistic approach is a needed refuge from the harsh realities of life in our post-Katrina world. All of us experienced displacement; many are rebuilding destroyed homes. Most of us work in the social service sector – at local nonprofits, schools and hospitals, and several are struggling small business owners. Even members our teaching staff – an incredible group of dedicated professionals with talents and experience in special education, early childhood development, preschool art and music, and bilingual education – still live in trailers. Everyone involved with Abeona represents a family dedicated to children, education, and building a better community.

Paul and I write all this to express to you how important Abeona is and to implore for your help. Abeona House is at a critical juncture. The months of loss and costs of rebuilding have tapped our community resources. Survival means reaching out. As you participate in your workplaces, schools, churches, book clubs, parent groups, and volunteer positions, please keep Abeona in your hearts and minds. You can help us with a sponsorship, fundraiser, or by making a donation. Please help us create a foundation for quality, affordable early education in New Orleans.

We got the official notice from ABC Nightline staff… tonight is the broadcast.

ABC’s Nightline news show visited Abeona House last week. They took video of the house, the kids, and interviewed our director, Emmy. (Paul walked in during the interview and was introduced, but says he wasn’t filmed.) It was part of a short story they were researching involving the “increase in homicide” in New Orleans. We’re all sort of ambivalent and nervous about it… will be sensationalized? Will they get it? Tune in… it airs tonight: locally, it’s 10:35pm on channel 11 WGNO.

Things got rough early on and the anxiety became too much.
(Not that Kate, contentedly tearing up the house, noticed.)
We set off for the park. The neighborhood was silent — no cars, no kids at the playground. Neighbors came out to porches at times and gave us updates on the game.


THANKS, SAINTS FOR A GREAT SEASON — YOU GAVE US PRIDE AND HOPE! WHO DAT!!!

We have a running list of “reasons why living in New Orleans is like living in the developing world.” It’s quite a long list; the comparisons are uncanny. Today, we have one more to add to the list.

An athletic event can hold the hopes and dreams of an entire population, shutting down the normal functions of a even an entire city, to focus all energy on that game. Incredible challenges of daily life are completely forgotten and winning or losing becomes the ultimate symbol of the value and importance of an entire population.

This is what life in New Orleans feels like today. Today’s game — can there possibly be anyone in the United States, or even the world, who isn’t invested in today’s game?? — holds the hopes and dreams of our city. The desperation to win, to go all the way, has somehow gotten wrapped up in our personal survival. Something tangible that we can point to show that we matter.
I’ve thought hard on why even I am caught up in it all. Paul and I fell in love with New Orleans in the days before Katrina. But it was after Katrina, watching our city fall apart while others minimized the loss, rationalized the tragedy, and responded in passe, tacky ways (“Tell them about all the free stuff Katrina evacuees are getting!”) that were so arrogant and ignorant that it was hard to put into words how isolating and insulting it felt. (“It’s not like you lost anything, your house didn’t flood.” ) The stifling depression that set in after Katrina was perhaps more toxic than the sediment left behind by the flood. Paul and I, after experiencing the comparatively posh life of expats in Peru, came close to the cut-and-run. Life here, especially right after the storm, was intense. But when it came right down to it, we couldn’t leave. Our decision to stay was wrapped up in a web of emotion, experience, and pride too difficult to articulate. Perhaps one of the reasons we stay is for the shared understanding that everyone else here has gone through the same incantations. We can complain about the city, our taxes, our safety, the poor schools, the failing systems — but do so in a safe space where we know that the discussion exists within the context of incredible love for a place unlike any other in the world.
Community pride is important and I don’t mean to wax on, as us New Orleanians are known to do, boasting about the unique qualities that make our city such a gem. I imagine other folks in other communities feel pretty strongly about where they live, too. I don’t want to get into a pissing contest over which where is better… but I will say that I’ve never heard anyone sing “I know what it means to miss Centreville.”In the here and now, we are all in black and gold. On Friday, the kids has a Saints pep rally at Abeona. It was a serious affair. I spoke with Emmy at quarter to 8 Friday morning as we searched for black and gold facepaint and markers. Paul and I tore through our wardrobes for black and gold to wear (unless you’re Liberace, or a Hilton girl, who has gold in their wardrobe??) Other parents ran around town for fleur-di-lis patches and yellow sweatshirts. At school, the kids were eager to learn the nomenclature. When he got home Friday afternoon, Will told us that when you yell “Who Dat!?” you scare away bears. This morning, our street is filled with cars and pedestrians walking up to Whole Foods for King Cake and football snacks. Black and gold banners fly from cars; everyone is wearing their Saints best. I’ve bitten off all my nails and my stomach is in knots. We hear the kids next door, running around with excitement as game time closes in. It’s a big day in New Orleans.