not goodbye, but see ya later - Blog #1 New Orleans Series

I'm streaming one of my classical stations on the Blackberry, cleaning some clothes and going through my things to get them ready for packing. The washer is on spin cycle - banging and clicking like there's a war happening in the laundry room. When it stops I can hear the creaks, ticks and other sounds of this enormous house behind the violin concerto playing in my palms.

I didn't bother bringing a computer. I also had no intention of watching any TV. I've been tapping away at this teeny qwerty keyboard all week trying to make notes of all the wonderful things I've heard from my 26 house mates this week. Twenty-six. That's a lot of fucking people in one house. I'm not nice enough to live with 26 people, but somehow we did it. No one hit me, and I didn't erect any new walls (to my knowledge). I laughed and joked about some things that other people didn't think were funny, but that has been happening my entire life. I have tried not to be awkward in that way, but fighting it just made it more pronounced with each attempt. I accept it now after living with it for 35 years. It amazes me that some of my fellow volunteers have done it in just one week. Perhaps it has something to do with our mission.

I could go into the whole schpeel here with the mission statement and history of In Good Company, but you have a computer and they have a Facebook page. There...

On Tuesday, some of us worked on a food garden in the Holy Cross neighborhood. For those who don't know, New Orleans is very segmented. We were taken on a tour by a delightful native named Pam. Not to say that we are all now experts, but I felt that she truly enlightened us. The neighborhoods, before Katrina, were fairly self-sufficient, and most people living within them rarely ventured beyond them for any things they needed to survive. Since the levees failed and the neighborhoods were devastated by the flooding, very little has been rebuilt in the poorer areas. Many people have no food source near where they live. There is also the issue of unemployment since the companies many people worked for have not resumed business here.

New Orleans Food and Farming is working to teach people who don't already know how to grow their own food and encouraging neighbors to work together to restore the community bond that once existed. The Guerrilla Garden in Holy Cross is in its first stages. Jenga is the garden's keeper. I worked there twice this week digging out a rain trench, sifting the dirt and hauling the rocks in wheelbarrows to line the street side of the trench. I personally prefer digging to sifting. Sifting is just another one of those tedious tasks - like removing lint from a black sweater. I got really sweaty yesterday. The inevitable exhaustion that followed was probably a key component in my raging hangover today... as was the Sezerac - a god awful anise-infused alcoholic debacle. It had mixed reviews. I suppose my alcoholic taste buds are just not refined enough to enjoy it.

During the afternoon on Tuesday and all day Thursday, everyone worked on the home of Alice Cousins. Her house is in the Hollygrove neighborhood (not too far from where Pam's Food and Farming garden project is located. The house has been in her family for generations. I spent an entire day just painting doors - speaking of tedium. There was this youngish-looking black electrician there who took an interest in me. Although he was nice, I didn't consider it an efficient use of my work time to flirt. Besides, I've seen enough gold teeth to last a lifetime. One of my coworkers tried to lead him to believe that there may have been some sort of spark, but I successfully managed to put that suspicion to rest by openly and quite obviously preferring to spend my free party time talking to everyone else. It was weird because he was also there at the club when we went out to the Blue Nile on Frenchmen St. I smell a rat.

Wednesday was heartbreaking for me. We worked with a wetlands restoration organization (I'll have to plug in their info later). We toured the bayou (via canoes) and got to see firsthand the damage done by the freight and oil industries. There seems to be no end to the work that needs to be done there. I was overwhelmed by the destruction and my eomotional reaction to it. It made me ashamed to be human and deeply depressed. I drank a lot that night, but couldn't quite get the feeling I was after. I was finally able to relax after bowling with the group, but I gotta say that I am going through the classic coping stages with this issue already. I never knew I had such a tree hugger inside me. It's weird.

Living and working with 26 people on these restoration and rebuilding projects has surely changed me. I have no doubt that most of my friends will like the changes (many of which are yet to come - I've been warned). I'm absolutely certain that Killa B will be pleasantly surprised and maybe mom will too.

As for me and New Orleans, we're not party friends. I'll never be a tourist again. This relationship is being built on sweat and tears, is sure to last at least my lifetime and may be leading me somewhere I'd never imagined going before.
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