Partitions

I think everyone has at least one event that forms a "partition" in the way they think about their time on this earth. What I mean is an event like the birth -- or death -- of a child. You hear people talk about a time being "before the kids were born", or "before John died". I'm betting that most of us have more than one such event in our past.
Today is the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina's attack on New Orleans. It is one of my partitions - things in my life are timed either "before the storm" or "since the storm". I know that thousands share this partition with me. That doesn't make the partition any less (or more) tall. And many more died during the creation of this particular partition.
I pray their rest is peaceful.

Guns and Warnings on the Redneck Riviera

Went to visit my folks for Mothers' Day. They live in Okaloosa County, Florida, which, as my dad proudly announced to me, is the most conservative county in the entire country. I am now ready to believe it.

I took the Route 98 -- the road along the gulf -- between Pensacola and their home. About halfway along I passed a single-wide that had been turned into a store. It had a stick-on letter sign out front that said "New AK-47s". Really. Yes, REALLY!
Another half mile along I passed a billboard sporting the new 10-20-30 campaign rhetoric. Depending on what you do with your gun, if you use it while you perform a criminal act, you will wind up in jail for 10-20-or-30 years. Guaranteed.

I hunkered down behind the wheel of my Obama bumper sticker bedecked mini-van. Schizophrenia has always made me very nervous.

The Morning After the Night Before

It's the Monday after Jazz Fest. Appropriately, it's raining. You can feel the spirits slump -- almost hear them. After two weeks of a huge, musical party here in New Orleans we are all grumpy. It's over for another year. No more instant city on the Racetrack. No more people wearing the worst-looking, wildest hats they can find. No more high, skin-baring fashion. No more dancing by yourself (or with others) until your feet feel like lumps of lead. No more baking in the sun and gorging on ten different crawfish combinations. No more shopping in a New Orleans bazaar.
Most of all, no more music. I know I'm exaggerating. There's always music in New Orleans, but no more of having nearly every type of music you can think of crammed into such a small space. In the space of the same hour you can boogey your way from soul to gospel to cajun to jazz to funky and back.
And all our friends from all over are heading home. No more reunions. I feel like I'm part of a giant, city-wide hangover. It was really fun, though.

Gardening New Orleans Style

We're back in New Orleans -- "NOLA" to insiders -- and I am facing the backyard again. Sub-tropical growth is hard to believe unless you see it. The bougainvillea that I chopped back to a nub last trip has literally re-grown branches reaching 6 feet in length.
My morning "gardening" (because if you don't get out before 10:00 a.m., you'll have heat stroke) consists of pulling up growing things. These are the kinds of growing things that I know my northern friends are buying at Lowe's and Home Depot over the weekend. For example, I have to slash through giant philodendrons to tame them back under the porch stairs and railings. A part of me hates to do it. But if I don't I know from rueful experience that the plants will go crazy and try to take over my home.
Each morning after an hour of pulling and hauling and chopping I fight feelings of defeat and hopelessness at the hands/vines of the greenery. The bright spot is that perhaps my carbon footprint is being offset a bit.

"Spring is Abundant"

A friend wrote "spring is abundant" on her Facebook page today. I am back in North Georgia after a short trip to Nashville and spring came while I was gone. I saw purple wisteria climbing next to a deep pink dogwood this morning. I stood and stared. The color combination was so right; so beautiful. I wanted to applaud or knock on neighbors' doors and tell them to, "Come. See."

I know. I know. Spring comes. The sun rises. "Death and Taxes". But I don't know if I've had my head down for a while or something because this spring seems different. More new. More amazing. And the lovely show is totally, completely, entirely free.

Abundant.

Here's my tip: "Keep your head up."

Running With the National A.D.D.

I have to wonder whether the terrible economic news is lessening or if I am just getting tired of it. I, and I think it's safe to say "We", don't wear well with the news in the U.S. Especially bad news. We're "over" both the Octomom and the recession.

Is it that in our eternal rush to speed up life we've lost our ability to focus? I'm guilty of it. Facing the 400-600 word requirement on a site I write for sometimes overwhelms me. A WHOLE 400 WORDS?! How can I stay with that? Much less anyone who might want to read it? And why do I think that an Elizabeth Barrett Browning or a Susan B. Anthony would laugh down her sleeve at my discomfort with a mere 400 words?

A theory came to me some years back that since we've not been able to give ourselves eternal life in this form (yet), the next best thing is to cram as much life as possible into every minute we do have.

I know this is not a new idea, either. Another Mid-Century Modernian from a different century, Andrew Marvell, ended his wonderful poem, "To His Coy Mistress", with the words, "Thus, though we cannot make our sun stand still, yet we will make him run."

Anyway, I've got to run now...

Leave It As You Find It?

It was a cool, rainy, edge of spring day. My little friend Emma and I took the dogs out for a walk. We meander. Her legs are short; the dog Alice is in dog years as old as I am, and Jazz the Pomeranian mix is such a scaredy cat that he stays by our feet.

We discussed many things until we came to a gated roadway. The gate was locked and wore a sign saying “Leave Gate As You Find It.” Emma read it out loud and looked at me.

“What does that mean?”

I explained about “putting things back the way you find them.” We discussed her playing with her toys and school projects and how people expect us not to hurt or destroy other people’s stuff. She seemed content with our explanation and we went on with our walk.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the sign, though, and its sentiment. It’s a metal sign – professionally made. That means there is some company somewhere stamping out hundreds maybe thousands of them a day. The message is pretty good. Leave things as you find them. Try not to do any damage. It reminds me of the signs in the national parks –“Take only memories. Leave only footprints.”

The thing is the sign leaves me a little flat. Instead, how about a sign that says “Leave things a little better than you find them”?