Injuns

One of the many wonderful and weird things that one gets to experience in New Orleans are the Mardi Gras Indians. Mardi Gras Indians are somewhat difficult to explain, but, over-simplistically, they can be described as; African Americans who create and then parade down the streets of New Orleans in elaborate costumes decorated with feathers and beads or sequins. Mardi Gras Indians form strict hierarchical groups (tribes) that do 'battle' with members of other tribes in the form of singing and dancing as they parade through the streets. The costume a Mardi Gras Indian wears is called a 'suit', and takes thousands of hours of work to create. Every tribesman makes his own suit (or at least, helps in the making of it with assistance of his family) and the costs of the materials for a suit can be in the thousands of dollars. The very best compliment you can give an Indian is to tell him he has a "real pretty suit" or a "nice suit". A new suit is made each year for the Mardi Gras parades, and often members of a tribe will begin designing and purchasing items for their next suit as soon as Mardi Gras is over.

The Indian's position in the tribe also provides some requirements for the suit, as Tootie Montana, the long-time chief of the Yellow Pocahontas explained:

"You've got first chief, which is Big Chief; First Queen; you've got Second Chief and Second Queen; Third Chief and Third Queen. First, Second, and Third chiefs are supposed to have a queen with them. That's just tradition. I found them doing that. ..You also have your Spy Boy, your Flag Boy and your Wild Man. Your Spy Boy is way out front, three blocks in front the chief. The Flag Boy is one block in front so he can see the Spy Boy up ahead and he can wave his flag to let the chief know what is going on. Today, they don't do like they used to. Today you're not going to see any Spy Boy with a pair of binoculars around his neck and a small crown so he can run. Today a Spy Boy looks like a chief and somebody carrying a big old stick. It's been years since I seen a proper flag... The Wild Man wearing the horns in there to keep the crowd open and to keep it clear. He's between the Flag Boy and the Chief."

Often you can tell the Big Chief and First Queen by their elaborate costumes and large headdresses, and the chief carries some sort of identifier of the tribe (the "big stick" that Tootie refers to above). Flag boys have embellished 'flags' to signal danger, and the wild man wears a headdress with animal horns attached.

The origin of the Mardi Gras Indians is difficult to determine . It appears that the Mardi Gras Indians have masked and paraded in New Orleans for around two hundred years. It is clear that West African influences,Native American influences (both those of local tribes such as the Choctaw and Chitimacha as well as those of the plains Indians) and the New Orleans slave and free black traditions contributed to the costumes, chants and culture of the 'Indians'. The fact that local Native Americans in Louisiana assisted escaped slaves from New Orleans and surrounding plantations, may have inspired slaves in New Orleans to dress in the style of Native Americans.

Regardless of what inspired Mardi Gras Indians to start making and wearing their suits, the results of their handiwork are amazing. The pictures below are taken at the Mardi Gras Indian parade on st. Joseph's day.

I feel pretty, oh so pretty!

A beautiful suit made by a female Mardi Gras Indian. If you look closely, you can see the pictographs representing the life of female Native Americans. I caught this Indian before she had put on her headdress, you can see it being held by the woman next to her. I am pretty sure this is a Hard Head Hunter tribe member.

Again, I sadly captured this Indian without his headdress. According to Nola.com he is a spy boy for the Hard Head Hunters tribe. If you link to Nola.com you can see him fully dressed at in the slide show at the bottom of the page.

Indian butt! Notice how an a single suit can contain several accessories that are equally impressive as the costume itself. Here you can see a fan and a flag. This is probably a cheif given how much equipment he has.

An individual suit can weigh over a hundred pounds. They are also quite hot and do not allow for air circulation. This particular Indian was so hot and dizzy by the time he got to me that I ended up giving him a drink of water out of my nalgene bottle.

According to Nola.com, this is the Mohawk Hunters Flag Boy Jamal Casby. the two 'flags' are visible at the bottom of the photo.

A small child gets in on the dancing.

A young flag boy, holding his shotgun shaped flag.

New Orleans, Katrina +4

Today is an important date in the city of New Orleans. Four years ago today Katrina made landfall in New Orleans . The effects of that storm, combined with the structural failures that accompanied it, are sadly familiar to most news watching Americans. Colin and I were not here for Katrina, we were still living in Chicago at the time. This is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing in that we were not forced to evacuate, did not have our lives turned upside down and did not have to go through the many hardships that others were forced to endure. A curse in that we can never truly understand how hard that time was for this city and its residents, and that we were not witnesses to the destruction, the federal and local government failures, and the suffering that was experienced at this time four short years ago.

For me, the Katrina anniversary provides me with another chance to be grateful that I have been able to come to this amazing city. That New Orleans was still here for me to live in and to love. That in some small way my arrival here was helpful in allowing the preservation of a great American city.

Rabbi Cohn, the rabbi of our synogouge said it best when he noted that the residents of New Orleans post Katrina must be “the rebuilders of the ruins, the restorers of paths to dwell in.” (Isaiah 58:12) I like the King James version of this line even better, and think that New Orleanians are "... The repairer(s) of the breach..." or the ones who will fix our broken levee system and our ruined wetlands. This translation is particularly apt because most of the commentaries on this verse understand "breach" to be a breach of the covenant. To apply this to New Orleans, we (both the city and the rest of the country) have broken our promises to ourselves and each other to maintain a livable and safe city.

A visitor that came through the city this summer and stayed with us noted that New Orleans seemed to still be referencing the storm, or the flood, in every conversation. I think that the magnitude of destruction left a permanent watermark on this city, and that it will take many more years before Katrina does not hold a place of attention in our city's consciousness. However we see progress every day. In just the last two years, a huge number of stores and homes have been built where before there were only abandoned buildings. Colin and I constantly marvel at how much has been accomplished in the time we have been here. This is not to say that we have not also seen negligence and squandered chances. This city will never be the same as it was before Katrina, and we still have a long, long way to go before we are fully functional. But, I can see the promised land. If we are lucky, New Orleans will continue not just to exist, but to thrive.

Friday cat blogging

This week we feature a cat we met while purchasing a piece of furniture in River Ridge. Colin and I finally bought ourselves a china cabinet, a furniture piece that we have needed ever since we moved into the new house. We found a lovely two piece set on craigslist and had arranged with the owner to drive over and pick it up at his home in River Ridge. When we arrived at the seller's house, we saw an adolescent male cat in the bushes. The cat ran out of said bushes as soon as he saw us, and was very friendly and snugly. When the seller answered the door, we asked him if this was his cat. He replied, "Who, Lagniappe? He kinda belongs to the whole neighborhood." Colin and I thought this was particularly apt, because of the meaning of the word Lagniappe. The term is thrown around quite a lot in New Orleans; for instance, the Times-Picayune calls its Friday extra section Lagniappe.

Colin's leg gets a little "something extra."

St. Patricks day

Colin and I spent the Saturday March 14th on Magazine street watching the New Orleans St. Patrick's day parade. This was the first time we saw these festivities, having missed last years parade. We had a good time though, and I am pretty sure that we will be sure and go to next years celebration.

Firstly, allow me to set the scene for you. Southern Louisiana has been experiencing a lack of rain for this time of year. In fact, according to climatologists, we are experiencing a "mild drought". We had gone weeks without a drop of rain, making the Mardi Gras season quite enjoyably dry. It could not last forever though, and on the day the parade was going to roll it poured for the whole day. This did not mean that the parade was canceled, just that everyone stood out in the drenching rain for the afternoon. Luckily the small group we were with had been well fortified with whiskey cake (see recipe below). Unluckily, it was so wet that I was not able to capture any photos of the event, and you will have to make do with descriptions and photos shamelessly stolen from Nola.com

Firstly, there are more people who walk in the St. Patrick's day parades than those that ride. Most of those who walk are men dressed either in black tuxedos, or kilts. These men carry Irish themed objects for distribution (the equivalent of float 'throws'). Items for distribution include beads, flowers, stickers, cups, magnets, and for some reason, thong underwear and garter belts.

Two members of the Irish Channel St. Patrick's Day Club.

The beads were of course primarily in green and white, sometimes with Irish flags or shamrocks and occasionally with a small plastic beer cups attached, which you could get filled by float members distributing liquor. Some beads were clearly designed for just the St. Patrick's day parade, and some could have been used for Mardi Gras too.

The flowers were mostly fake plastic carnations in either green, white or orange, and were displayed on "flower canes" a typically bizarre New Orleans creation consisting of a plastic or bamboo umbrella handle and shank, around which is a layer of Styrofoam with individual plastic flowers stuck into the foam. (In the photo above, the man on the right holds his flower cane) To get a flower, you had to catch the eye of a walking gentleman and he would present you with a flower in exchange for a kiss on the cheek. Colin however, found an equally good method of obtaining flowers which was less intimate. He would simply run up to one of these guys and ask pathetically if he could have a flower for his wife. Usually the parade member would willingly give him one without asking for any kiss in return.

There were some floats as well in the parade, but they were definitely less predominant than they are in the Mardi Gras celebrations. Mostly the floats held women and children who were family members of the men who walked. The floats distributed the usual throws of beads and stuffed animals/ toys, but they also distributed food. Top Ramen packages, individual Lucky Charms cereal bowls, lemons, carrots, potatoes, onions and cabbages were all tossed from the float to the crowds below. The cabbages were particularly dangerous, being both large and heavy, as well as dangerously slippery in the rain. We spent a fair amount of the parade either catching or deflecting cabbages to prevent injury. In the end we had collected six cabbages. Luckily we found someone to give a few to after the parade was over. We met a lady on the way to our car who was sitting on her porch. She asked how the parade went, and as we got to talking she mentioned how her severe arthritis, had prevented her from attending the parade, and collecting her usual cabbage haul. We gladly gave her some of our excess cruciferous vegetables, and in the last week have managed to eat the remaining three.

The last thing you ever see before dying is an incoming cabbage.

Whiskey cake:
(Adapted from the Irish Spirit; recipes inspired by the legendary drinks of Ireland)

1 cup raisins
1.5 cups water

1.5 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
.75 teaspoon cloves
.75 teaspoon nutmeg
dash allspice
.5 teaspoon salt

1 stick (.5 cup) butter
.5 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg

.25 cup Irish whiskey
1 cup chopped walnuts

Optional frosting
8 oz Neufchatel cheese
.5 cup confectioners sugar
.25 cup whiskey

1. turn oven on to 350 degrees. while oven preheats, place raisins and water in a small saucepan on high heat, until water boils. Then, turn down stove and let raisins simmer for about 20 minutes.

2. While raisins are simmering, place the flour, baking soda, baking powder, the spices and salt in a bowl. Stir these dry ingredients together until well mixed.

3. In another bowl, cream butter and sugar together with a mixer until light and fluffy (4-5 minutes) . Then, add the egg and beat until smooth.

4. Take the saucepan of raisins and remaining water. Remove all the raisins, and pour the water off into a measuring cup until you have .75 cup of water. Throw away any other remaining water in the pan.

5. Into the butter/sugar/egg mixture fold the flour mixture, alternating with the remaining raisin water. Then fold in the whiskey, raisins, and walnuts.

6. Bake at 350 degrees for 30-35 minutes in a 8 inch cake pan. Blend frosting ingredients together until smooth, frost cake when cool.

Arts enjoyment weekend

Colin and I just had a fabulous weekend. On Friday, we went to the "American Routes 10th anniversary extravaganza" at the House of Blues. For those of you who do not know, American Routes is a radio show which plays music and interviews artists in from the genres of jazz, blues, folk music, Cajun, zydeco, and more. A while back, we were listening as we always do to the Sunday night American Routes broadcast and were quite pleased to hear that to celebrate the 10th anniversary of the show a live music concert would be held at the New Orleans House of Blues. So we decided to buy tickets and attend. The show was amazing, and featured the following artists:

Dr. Micheal White and the Original Liberty Jazz Band
Feufollet
Deacon John and the Ivories
Al 'Carnival Time' Johnson
Topsy Chapman
Trombone Shorty

Every performer was amazing, but I think I enjoyed Dr. Micheal White and the Liberty Jazz band, Al 'Carnival Time' Johnson, and Trombone Shorty the best. Really it was an amazing show, and lucky for you it will be broadcast on American Routes on February 18th. Even if you do not get the show on your local NPR affiliate, the American Routes website has a brand spanking new digital archive that you can use to hear the program anytime after it airs on February 18th.

Then on Saturday, Colin and I headed out to see as much of the Prospect 1 Art Exhibit as we could before it closed on Sunday. For those of you that do not know, Prospect 1 was was an international art exhibit set in various locations in the city of New Orleans (from museums and galleries to flooded out buildings in the 9th ward) . All the exhibits were free, and there was a shuttle that would take you around to the 12 venues officially featured in the show. In addition, numerous galleries and smaller exhibit spaces featured the work of local artists as a complement to the official show. Colin and I only were able to visit some of the various official sites, but the quality of the artwork we were able to see was truly amazing. Some of the pieces did not lend themselves to photography, and others I took pictures of but they did not capture the whole effect of the work. Here are some of the works I was able to capture:



Each of the tare weights is the exact mass and volume of one of the people in the artist's family (pictured). Each weight is labeled with the person it represents: "father," "mother," etc. There is a diagram on the wall illustrating the process; the piece in the photo to the left is a visual representation of the purpose of the weights.




These are wall murals in a flooded house in the 9th ward. The murals show Louisiana's bayous. They are wall-to-ceiling, and intricately detailed, showing wetland wildlife. It was surreal to see these murals inside a house that became flooded in part due to the loss of coastal ecosystems.



This is the ark, one of the most well-publicized pieces of the biennial. It is made of plywood sheets gathered from wreckage in the 9th ward, pieced together to form a boat.



This sign is self-explanatory. It was part of an exhibit in a police station, and is made from welded metal.



This is a chair made for two people. You can rock back and forth with your partner. It is surprisingly comfortable, as well as stylish. It was in the Charles J. Colton School, which has been recommissioned into artist studios. While we were there, there were artists working in the machine shop, crafting non-Prospect 1 pieces.



These pieces was also at the school, and were part of an installation of five or six similar pieces made of concrete with inset LED counters. There were 1400 counters total, representing the number of people killed in Katrina and the subsequent flooding.



This piece was in the Battleground Baptist Church in the 9th ward. The diamond structure is made of rusted gym equipment from 9th ward homes, and has been welded together. There are mirrored walls surrounding the piece, and an audio recording of Martin Luther King spliced with electronic music was playing. That sounds strange, but the whole piece was actually quite moving.



This painting showed the paths of Rita, Katrina, and Ivan. In each state, there are mixed media pieces depicting things that can be found in that state. Specifically, see the fire ant in Florida, the heart of Dixie in Tennessee, and the various cut-outs of Jesus throughout.

Of pimm's cup and banksy's

So, on Tuesday, Colin and I attended a surprise engagement shower for my public health buddy Sammy. Her roommates, Joe and Meroe, planned the whole thing quite carefully, and the bride and groom to-be had no idea we were all lurking in the backyard ready to pounce. At the appointed moment the unsuspecting victims were lured outside and into the festivities. After that, all the guests spent a pleasant evening hanging out in the garden, eating appetizers and drinking pimm's cups. The weather was lovely, the setting pleasant, and the company congenial. the garden had been decorated with tea lights in paper bags, and looked quite romantic. The only thing that could have possibly spoiled anyone's evening was the fact that the neighborhood cats tried to pounce on us. (The Marigny is FULL of cats, and these particular cats had ringworm). Colin and I of course enjoyed shooing the kittens away from the food, so we had a great time.

I was also pleased to continue to expand my repertoire of alcoholic beverages by sampling the Pimm's cup. The particular recipe we imbibed was a mix of the Napoleon house Pimm's cup and the Town hall Pimm's cup with slight alterations. (1 part Pimm's No.1, 2 to 3 parts ginger ale and garnished with a cucumber slice). It turned out quite tasty, but still carried a punch.

Colin and I were also able to view wonderful outdoor art on Tuesday evening, quite by chance. Recently, the Times Picayune reported that several outdoor paintings had appeared across the city, and were being attributed to the graffiti artist Banksy. (You can see photos of the New Orleans instillation here ). We had both read the article, and found the included photos of the street paintings profound, inspiring both joy and sadness. On the third anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, Banksy was able to capture some of the truly emblematic symbols of the hurricane while provoking new thoughts on the tragedy. His work was so politically astute, so relevant, and perhaps best of all, exceedingly local. For example, one of his paintings features the grey ghost, a New Orleans figure (in) famous for removing graffiti. Other very local insights include a walking jazz band wearing gas masks, and a small child flying a refrigerator kite. (The refrigerator, with its rotting food smell, was one of the most visceral results of Katrina). We were able to veiw one of the city's Banksy's while we were driving around the Marigny, looking for the address where the surprise engagement party was being held. While trying to find a one way street going the correct direction, I saw a Bansky and shouted out to Colin to stop and let me out to take a photo. It was the painting of a young girl using an umbrella to fend off the coming storm, only to be soaked by the umbrella itself. Some have suggested that the umbrella is a metaphor for the levee system, designed to provide protection, but which ultimately was a leaky umbrella itself.

After the party I convinced Colin to take a small detour on our way home to see the other Banksy I had accidentally run into a few days earlier. This one I had encountered while walking from the downtown Tulane campus to the LSU's Health Sciences Center for an appointment. I had just turned a corner on my route, when I walked past an abandoned building with a painting of Lincoln with a granny cart on it. I believe that this painting is supposed to represent the displacement and homelessness that many New Orleans residents have faced as a result of Katrina.

Eruv

This weekend the Times Picayune ran a story about how the Orthodox Jews in Metairie (1) have just established an eruv.

I find this fascinating and funny for a number of reasons.

First the funny. It turns out that we have met the family that lead the charge to establish the eruv. Rabbi Uri and his wife and children often attend the Jewish newcomer events in New Orleans that Colin and I go to. They go to make sure that any interested Jews know that there is an orthodox synagogue in Metairie. (You can see photos of them, and read about their congregation, Beth Israel, here). The last time I spoke with them was at a Zephyr's AAA baseball game, when I was drinking a beer and eating a kosher hot dog. I was chatting with Uri, while Daliah ran around after the two boys, who seemed to be really enjoying the festivities. In fact, when Colin and I were trying to find Zephyr Field, Colin spotted a mini-van and said, "Oh, we must be getting close, I see 'The Jews' ". I had no idea what he was talking about, because I could only see the back of a beige minivan, so I chided him about how not ALL minivan drivers were Jews. He replied that he could see the people inside (which I could not from my seat) and it was Uri and his family. Then we both laughed.

Next, the fascinating. The first is that it is nice to see this little community of orthodox Jews rebuild their lives after Katrina. Large portions of Jefferson parish flooded after the levee breaches, and this particular synagogue was completely ruined. Seven Torahs and hundreds of old holy books were destroyed by water. All the other Torahs' in New Orleans had been evacuated before the Hurricane. A rescue operation to save the books was attempted, but sadly all were destroyed by water and mold. They were buried according to Jewish law, which states that destroyed holy books must be buried, because they should be treated like people, rather than as mere objects. The second fascination is that this particular eruv is being established using primarily natural boundaries. Most eruv I know of are established by means of string, or an arrangement of telephone lines, to denote the communal boundaries of a "house". This is done so that orthodox Jews can carry items outside of their homes and not be breaking the prohibition against work on the Sabbath. (Strictly speaking, to carry any item outside the home is considered work). The only natural boundaries I have ever heard of being used before to create an eruv were in Manhattan, where sea walls are used to create walls for the "house". In New Orleans, of course, we use levees and canal walls to mark our neighborhoods, and our eruvs. The Metairie eruv uses canal walls, levees, a highway sound barrier as well as the expected telephone wires to create a community "house". I think I find the concept of an eruv made of levees just inherently funny. I mean, the levees we have cannot protect us from flooding, so who says they make a decent "house"? Well, apparently, the rabbinical council of New Jersey, that's who!

(1) Metairie, it's safe here.

Warning:This post contains profanity!

So a few weeks ago, when Gustav was still an incoming hurricane, and Mame was visiting, I had a brilliant idea.

It was when we were putting up plywood over our windows. Basically, this involved either one or two of us lifting a 4 foot by 8 foot half inch thick plywood sheet and holding it up while the last person screwed the sheet into the window frame with a drill. I must admit that I had no idea how heavy and awkward outdoor grade plywood was before that afternoon. To make the time pass more smoothly, we mixed up a pitcher of Hurricanes. It was when we were on the last piece of plywood, and I had been drinking all day when it hit me.

If New Orleans and our house survived this storm, we would need to celebrate. My plan was to host a huge barbecue. We would invite everyone we knew, grill a ton of sausages and burgers, and for dessert, serve sheet cake. The sheet cake was in fact what the flash of brilliance was all about, because suddenly, as if it was before my very eyes, I could see a sheet cake emblazoned with the phrase "Fuck off Gustav".

Fast forward to this weekend. Colin and I hosted a huge housewarming BBQ party, we grilled meat all day, and for dessert I got my very special cake. Just in case you were wondering, it turns out that the Rouses on Tchoupitoulas will put whatever profanity you want on a cake, you just have to ask nicely. Although, I will admit that I got a funny reaction from both the cake decorating lady "you sure you want that on a cake?" and an odd look from the check out lady.

I think it came out beautifully.

The BBQ was a smashing success. We had a great time giving people tours of the house, and everyone seemed to enjoy the food, the company and the surroundings. Perhaps best of all, everybody loved the cake.

The day before evacuation

Before we left due to Gustav we took some pictures (on Saturday of last week). This was while Mame was in town visiting, so we were trying to do some touristy things. Sadly, we gave up about midday to return to the house to make final hurricane preparations.

We took Mame to the french quarter for breakfast on Saturday, while we were there we saw some advance National Guard troops getting coffee.

Mame also enjoyed the coffee and the beignets available from Cafe du Monde. The rest of the French quarter was really deserted though, since everyone had already begun to evacuate. (Even the Mules were absent from Jackson square.)

later that day we worked on boarding up the house.

The result of our hard work, all shutters locked and windows boarded up.

July 4th picnic

Colin and I decided to go downtown to see the fireworks from the riverfront. We thought that it might be nice to bike the 8 miles or so to the Canal Street Ferry, and then take the ferry to Algiers and sit on that side of the levee and watch the show. We packed plenty of consumables, and left early in the evening so as to be comfortably established for the 8pm "dueling barges" show. Here is a photo essay of our Fourth of July holiday.

Colin waits at the ramp entrance (the one for cars) at the Canal street ferry terminal.
Notice the overladen picnic basket and his styling chapeau.

The view from that same ramp waiting for the arrival of the ferry. Amusingly enough, the ramp had contradictory signage, which originally confused us, and made us wonder if we were allowed on the car ramp.

A unique view of the crescent city connection from the ferry.

We has a picnic spread! Also, space to spread our picnic, which was not the case on the East bank of the river, which was filled with people both for the 4th of July, and for Essence festival.

The view from the Algiers levee of the St. Louis cathedral, appropriately back-lit from the heavens. See how close we are to the French quarter? There were two boats shooting off fireworks in the mile between us and this church.

The beautiful fireworks.

All in all we were very pleased with ourselves. I had suggested going across the river because I thought it would be less crowded, and I remembered that the levee on that side of the Missippi was right on the water. We had a perfect position to veiw the fireworks from, and it was not too crowded with tourists. In fact, I think we were surrounded by local West bank families, and their picnics. All in all it was a complete success and a gorgeous evening. Even the weather cooperated, humidity was really low and there was a cooling breeze during our ride too and from the ferry.

Tomato fest

We went to the Creole Tomato Festival a few weekends ago, and I thought I would share some images from that tasty, tasty event. Colin and I went down to the French Market on June 15th to see what the tomato harvest looked like this year. We purchased a box of famous Becnels tomatoes, grown nearby in Belle Chase (which is just over the Mississippi river from us, about a 15 minute drive from downtown New Orleans). I have heard claims from locals that Becnel's tomatoes are the best of the local offerings, so I decided we needed to see for ourselves.

The rumors are true, these are dang tasty tomatoes.

We also got to try a southern specialty at the festival, fried green tomatoes. These were amazing. the corn breading was crunchy, but not too oil soaked, the tomatoes firm, bright green and flavorful, and the rémoulade sauce on top was to die for. Colin and I really savored the four slices we got for 5$, a reasonable investment since they were not only delicious, but also filling.

Green tomato slices, don't they look good? The staff of Voleo's Seafood Restaurant prepare the tomatoes by dipping them in cornmeal.

Perhaps the most exiting part of the day was the fact that the US Mint, a defunct mint and now a museum in the French quarter, was offering free admission. This meant that Colin and I were able to see the new exhibit Treasures of Napoleon for free. The exhibit was pretty awesome, filled with artifacts from all stages of Napoleon's life, from his schoolboy letters, to items from his home on St. Helena. The exhibit was well laid out, had beautiful pieces, and was informative. NPR has been playing advertisements for this exhibit for a while, which say: "Come see Treasures of Napoleon, at the old US mint ....(artifacts) including the sword that proclaimed him emperor, as well as one of his hats!". We were pleased to see that the exhibit did indeed include one of his hats, since that had been mentioned so prominently in the advertisement. We walked through the exhibit and would say to each other, this is awesome, but where is his hat? Finally in the last room of the show we found the hat. For some reason this made us ridiculously happy.

America, they are washing us away

So, first it was levee breaks in New Orleans, now it's Iowa.

When New Orleans flooded, I remember being horrified when people said that the residents should just move away, because it was too dangerous to live below sea level. Nobody seemed to remember that New Orleans was the inventor of the only true American music genera, Jazz. Nobody mentioned that New Orleans was one of Americas busiest ports, and the main refinery for petroleum in the US. Now the Midwest is flooding, and I heard a similarly horrific statement the other day from an economist about the flooding in Iowa. He said that protection on those levees was poor because it was hard to enact legislation for levees in farmland. He said it was not cost effective to offer buyouts for the farming families who lived on the land, and that levees were too expensive to create just for some corn fields.

Just some cornfields? Cost effective? Has the whole world gone insane? Americas Midwest is the bread basket for the world. The iconic image of the small American farmer is as legendary and iconic as the puritan New Englander (and one hell of a lot less judgmental). If we cannot, or are unwilling to protect the plucky American farm family, the people who feed this country, then who are we willing to protect? Who is worth saving anymore?

There is a song that I have heard since moving to New Orleans. It was written by Randy Newman, and it is about the 1927 flood, a flood that covered parts of Arkansas, Illinois, Kentucky, Mississippi, Missouri, Tennessee and Louisiana. The version I like best is sung by the author, and backed up by the Louisiana Philharmonic orchestra and members of the New York Philharmonic. I tear up every time I hear the music swell and the lyrics start:


The river rose all day
The river rose all night
Some people got lost in the flood
Some people got away alright
The river have busted through, cleared down to Plaquemines
Six feet of water in the streets of Evangeline

Louisiana, Louisiana
They're tyrin' to wash us away
They're tryin' to wash us away
Louisiana, Louisiana
They're tryin' to wash us away
They're tryin' to wash us away


now, it seems like they are trying to wash us all away.

Quote of the Week

I can haz Cheezburger wins the internet this week:

Jazz Fest

We were able to take a day away from our studying and attend a premiere New Orleans event, Jazz Fest. We went on Saturday and had a lovely time. Saturday morning it was pouring rain and actually had a tornado warning. Colin and I were undeterred by the foul weather, and set off in a drizzle to bicycle to the New Orleans Fairgrounds, a little over a four mile trip (each way) from our house. The rain had actually stopped by the time we arrived, and the sun came out soon after. The fair grounds were muddy and full of standing puddles, but the weather was quite lovely.

Here is a list of the artists we saw:
Lillian Boute (jazz singer)
Pine Leaf Boys (Zydeco band)
Dirty dozen brass band (Brass and Jazz)
Ruthie Foster (Blues singer)
Bobby McFerrin and Chick Corea (improvisational jazz and Bebop)
Irvin Mayfeild and the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra (full orchestral jazz)

In addition to great music, Jazz Fest also has incredible food. Colin and I had lunch and dinner plus a snack at the festival, so we were able to sample as much as possible of the cuisine. I think our favorite dishes were the duck po-boy, the cochon de lait po-boy and the pheasant, quail, and andouille gumbo.

Entrance to Jazz fest at 11 am, notice the rainy conditions.
New Orleans Jazz Orchestra

Beautiful weather later, we actually are using our umbrella here for shade.

Evidence of muddy conditions on the fairgrounds