In their wake...
Guess one either is a leader or a follower. Truth is, it usually occurs to me to check for others' blogs before I am moved to post. The unfortunate result of this sequence is my attempt to chronicle without duplication; to create without plagiarism. These girls of mine have active, fast-changing agendas. I feel positively (or negatively) sluggish alongside their busy diaries.
On the other hand, I discover I'm secretly happy to pass on the busy days of guardianship of two (apparently) quite precious and precocious children, the tutelage of one (definitely) extremely precious and precocious grandson, as well as the constant flipping and flopping of legal folders containing the future of well-paying clients. And the very thought of BEING the photographer for someone's wedding...well that's scary.
How about a discharge of (unmentionable) onto your clothing (or worse) from a male doggie derierre? A slight bloody shower? Not to worry...pop into the lab/pharmacy for a tiny hit of alban or worming paste? There...feel better?
At the beach, as I contemplated the challenge of helping document and facilitate the progress of our own Algiers Towne Plan, under the aegis of the City Planning Commission, Auburn university mentors, with the help of a Rockefeller grant of $250 million, I came upon a copy of a 'planning' publication, which the son-in-law planner/landscaper had carried with him. I was struck by the inter-connectedness of Americans, North Americans, Continental Americans, ad nauseum.
Which brings me to the part that is difficult to relate while avoiding duplication. Sometimes I drive to work or walk on the levee and the 180 degree view prompts feelings of wanting to be among the first to cut and run, thereby capitalizing on the willingness of the 'believers' to buy into this miasma of uncollected garbage, bullet-drilled ghosts of cars and boarded up dreams. What the hell? I could do a little fixing up, hit the bull housing market and make out like a Katrina bandit. Not unlike the FEMA frauds and shining corporate citizens who have collectively robbed the city of needed funds in a rush to line their platinum pockets with silver sorely missed by the unhoused, unfed and under-insured.
As the country song goes: "On the Other Hand" there are the reasons (mostly in the form of people I've met) I won't turn tail and head for higher ground just yet. Last week a moving van nestled in the huge potholes that are helping shake apart the foundations of my and my neighbors' houses. The large, purple camel-back across the street finally sold. As luck would have it, they are a lovely family. The old abode, on Sycamore, can't be rehabbed, so they pulled up stakes, forsook the little park down the block and the neighbors who nearly took out a restraining order to prevent their emmigration, and plopped down in Algiers Point.
The really wonderful nature of the people who inhabit this city was exemplified in my improptu conversation with the mother-in-law who moved into this interesting purple house with her daugher (university psychologist), son-in-law (don't remember) and Alzheimer's-afflicted brother, who was at day care when she and I met. In the little landscaped patch across the street from me, where I follow the doggie periodically throughout the day for a bit of 'green', we discussed our children, respective ages versus gardening enthusiasm, dog breeds, previous marital status, current grandchild count, ad infinitum. The topics and depth of discovery is limited only by the necessity of pressing appointments or inability to withstand another 15 minutes of New Orleans summer heat. What is it about this city and it's environs that strips away pretension and the desire for anonymity? I don't suggest it can't be found. Au contraire! Last night, before a meeting of the committee studying the Algiers Towne Plan, etc., a woman of questionable self-esteem 'presented herself' in our office. "Well, let's get hopping...here I am" she seemed to say. The boss was familiar with this individual, from a previous encounter, and explained to her that she was quite early for the meeting, which would begin 30 minutes hence. This painted lady huffed and puffed and paraded, all the while denigrating those in charge whose names she could recall. Seems she isn't listed on the email for the committee, so missed the corrected meeting agenda notice (not an oversight...she isn't ON the committee). Finally, having elicited no excitement or remorse from those (two) of us who were setting up the room for the meeting, she strode from the room and out the door, with a comment that "this isn't worth it." If she only could perceive how similar our sentiments were at that moment! Turns out she's a trophy wife (attorney - no reflection)of some rich dude from a gated community and she turned up at the previous meeting dressed as the Harper Vally PTA candidate (look it up, youngsters)and proceeded to dominate each and every topic opened by the 20+ committee members for a full two hours!!
We managed to open and close the meeting without her and she wasn't missed. So there are those who are not 'on board.' They aren't in much evidence, however. The buzz-words seem to be "inclusion", "equitable", "everybody", "hang together," "what can we do for you?"
The only danger of the New Orleans progressive movement is death by meeting. It's rather nice to retreat behind the red door, draw the curtains and settle in with the dog and cat: not a quorum!!
On the other hand, I discover I'm secretly happy to pass on the busy days of guardianship of two (apparently) quite precious and precocious children, the tutelage of one (definitely) extremely precious and precocious grandson, as well as the constant flipping and flopping of legal folders containing the future of well-paying clients. And the very thought of BEING the photographer for someone's wedding...well that's scary.
How about a discharge of (unmentionable) onto your clothing (or worse) from a male doggie derierre? A slight bloody shower? Not to worry...pop into the lab/pharmacy for a tiny hit of alban or worming paste? There...feel better?
At the beach, as I contemplated the challenge of helping document and facilitate the progress of our own Algiers Towne Plan, under the aegis of the City Planning Commission, Auburn university mentors, with the help of a Rockefeller grant of $250 million, I came upon a copy of a 'planning' publication, which the son-in-law planner/landscaper had carried with him. I was struck by the inter-connectedness of Americans, North Americans, Continental Americans, ad nauseum.
Which brings me to the part that is difficult to relate while avoiding duplication. Sometimes I drive to work or walk on the levee and the 180 degree view prompts feelings of wanting to be among the first to cut and run, thereby capitalizing on the willingness of the 'believers' to buy into this miasma of uncollected garbage, bullet-drilled ghosts of cars and boarded up dreams. What the hell? I could do a little fixing up, hit the bull housing market and make out like a Katrina bandit. Not unlike the FEMA frauds and shining corporate citizens who have collectively robbed the city of needed funds in a rush to line their platinum pockets with silver sorely missed by the unhoused, unfed and under-insured.
As the country song goes: "On the Other Hand" there are the reasons (mostly in the form of people I've met) I won't turn tail and head for higher ground just yet. Last week a moving van nestled in the huge potholes that are helping shake apart the foundations of my and my neighbors' houses. The large, purple camel-back across the street finally sold. As luck would have it, they are a lovely family. The old abode, on Sycamore, can't be rehabbed, so they pulled up stakes, forsook the little park down the block and the neighbors who nearly took out a restraining order to prevent their emmigration, and plopped down in Algiers Point.
The really wonderful nature of the people who inhabit this city was exemplified in my improptu conversation with the mother-in-law who moved into this interesting purple house with her daugher (university psychologist), son-in-law (don't remember) and Alzheimer's-afflicted brother, who was at day care when she and I met. In the little landscaped patch across the street from me, where I follow the doggie periodically throughout the day for a bit of 'green', we discussed our children, respective ages versus gardening enthusiasm, dog breeds, previous marital status, current grandchild count, ad infinitum. The topics and depth of discovery is limited only by the necessity of pressing appointments or inability to withstand another 15 minutes of New Orleans summer heat. What is it about this city and it's environs that strips away pretension and the desire for anonymity? I don't suggest it can't be found. Au contraire! Last night, before a meeting of the committee studying the Algiers Towne Plan, etc., a woman of questionable self-esteem 'presented herself' in our office. "Well, let's get hopping...here I am" she seemed to say. The boss was familiar with this individual, from a previous encounter, and explained to her that she was quite early for the meeting, which would begin 30 minutes hence. This painted lady huffed and puffed and paraded, all the while denigrating those in charge whose names she could recall. Seems she isn't listed on the email for the committee, so missed the corrected meeting agenda notice (not an oversight...she isn't ON the committee). Finally, having elicited no excitement or remorse from those (two) of us who were setting up the room for the meeting, she strode from the room and out the door, with a comment that "this isn't worth it." If she only could perceive how similar our sentiments were at that moment! Turns out she's a trophy wife (attorney - no reflection)of some rich dude from a gated community and she turned up at the previous meeting dressed as the Harper Vally PTA candidate (look it up, youngsters)and proceeded to dominate each and every topic opened by the 20+ committee members for a full two hours!!
We managed to open and close the meeting without her and she wasn't missed. So there are those who are not 'on board.' They aren't in much evidence, however. The buzz-words seem to be "inclusion", "equitable", "everybody", "hang together," "what can we do for you?"
The only danger of the New Orleans progressive movement is death by meeting. It's rather nice to retreat behind the red door, draw the curtains and settle in with the dog and cat: not a quorum!!
posted by Pelican Stories at 6:23 PM
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