Day 2: NOLA

*Day 2 Quote: "There is more to life than increasing its speed." -Ghandi

*Selected by Mahalia when I was yelling at her to hurry up and get out the door this morning. 

After inserting homemade earplugs to block out the sound of death metal coming from the neighbor's apartment at 2am, I was finally able to get some sleep. The next thing I knew, Wendell was standing at the side of my bed just staring at me. Given that the earplugs also muffled the oncoming sound of her footsteps, she scared the shit out of me!

Stumbling to the kitchen, I put on a pot of coffee and poured her a bowl of honey nut cheerios. We went and sat together on the front stoop watching the early morning traffic rumble down St. Claude Avenue. I love waking up in the Bywater neighborhood, filled with murals, colorful shotgun houses and crumbling streets--and bursting at the seams with creativity. 

But I am also confronted with the downside of this nouveau riche, urban hipster neighborhood, which is, of course, gentrification and the loss of black home ownership after Hurricane Katrina. Sitting in my cozy Air-BnB rental, I realize I might be part of the problem. Ani DiFranco is right: "Something is always lost when something is gained."

We roused Will and Mahalia and drove to the French Quarter to visit the market and eat beignets. First stop at the market was a booth where a local Louisiana author was selling his self-published book, Hood Struggle. In a total social work moment, I struck up a conversation about the courage it takes to tell your story. He told me it was either tell his story or end up dead. Needless to say, I bought the book.

The kids all got hand-painted, hand-made journals, and the artist, Rico Salas, customized them with their names. Will got a new wallet (with his own spending money), and I got hand-crafted earrings and a necklace (she threw the necklace in for free because she said I was "vibrant"-- I'll take that!). 

All this shopping made us hungry for beignets, so we headed over to Cafe DuMonde and got seated immediately. We dipped our powdery treats in chicory coffee and then licked our fingers clean. 

These two are such pals.

She's such a beauty. I just absolutely love this picture.

We walked over to Jackson Square, past a sign that reminded us that the entire city used to just be one big portage for Native Americans crossing between the Mississippi River and Lake Pontchartrain. What?! This Outward Bound fact made me smile (and made my shoulders ache).

When we got to Jackson Square, we met a woman named Tia who gave us Mardi Gras beads, but assured us we didn't have to "show our boobs--that's only on tv!" She then proceeded to tell us she was raising money for the local battered women's shelter. Whether this was true or not, Mahalia reached in her purse and gave her some money, and then told me that her high school Feminist Club wants to do a volunteer project with our local women's shelter. Almost right after, Wendell wanted to give a young, tatted-up young women some money too, "Mommy, did you see that girl's sign?" I turned to look at the sign which said she was homeless and needed help. "That's someone's little girl," I whispered to Wendell, giving her a dollar to take back to her, painfully aware of how the suffering and the beauty seem to live hand in hand in New Orleans.

We walked through the end of the French Quarter, making wishes in fountains and tasting hot sauces at the Pepper Palace.

We left the French Quarter and headed to our favorite green space in NOLA, City Park. To satisfy Will and Wendell, we headed straight to Storyland Amusement Park, where the two of them rode ride after ride for hours, while Mahalia and I sat reading. I did ride the ferris wheel and one god-awful spinny ride with Wendell (only because she couldn't ride without an adult!). 

Best slide ever!

Classic big brother moves...ignoring everyone else to constantly turn and "bump" his little sister.

On the ferris wheel!

Reading Catcher in the Rye

As a treat to Mahalia, we visited the NOMA and sculpture garden for the first time. The museum was free for teens that day, so Will and Mahalia wondered around, particularly drawn to the robust collection of Italian Renaissance art.

New Orleans Museum of Art

She said it reminded her of a thestral in Harry Potter.

With George Rodrigue's famous Blue Dog

Stopped into the cafe to grab a snack and recharge our batteries. I still get so tickled when Will orders.  I can't get used to him growing up.

To cap off a pretty perfect day, I bought us reserved tickets for a New Orleans jazz concert at Preservation Hall (happy early birthday to me!), where we got to hear The Preservation Legacy Band with Wendell Brunious.

Before the show, we walked over to a voodoo shop on St. Peter Street, and explored the items for sale. When Mahalia and I were in the Dominican Republic, we visited a Haitian batay and went by the house of the neighborhood voodoo priest or curandero. I shared with Wendell what I learned from that visit--that voodoo was the religion of resistance in Haiti, much like Creole was the language of resistance that allowed slaves of various cultures to rise up and defeat the French. A shaved-headed, pierced, tatted, multi-racial woman working there said, "I'm impressed. You wouldn't believe how many people come in here to say horrible things to me." I told her that I thought that voodoo had been racialized and sensationalized in New Orleans and in America, and that I don't think fear is the answer. I told her that I am a Christian, and that while I don't "believe in" voodoo, I think it is important to separate myths from reality. She was astounded (in a good way) and said she'd never met a Christian who was so curious. I thought to myself, "What if Christianity was a religion of curiosity and not judgement?" aka Walt Whitman. I guess that would be my brand of evangelism.

With these thoughts floating in my head,  we packed into the small venue of Preservation Hall, and and the band played "Everybody Ought to Know Who Jesus Is." It made my heart sing, and we joined the intimate crowd in clapping and tapping our feet, smiling ear to ear, except Wendell, who fell asleep. Hilariously, the band commented on the fact that they were having a contest to see how many children they could put to sleep and what the oldest age could be. Wendell won. After the concert, the band leader, Wendell was astonished to know that the oldest child they put to sleep was also Wendell!

The most interesting thing about our time at Preservation Hall was running into someone we know. Just as we were getting up from our seats, I hear a woman say, "Are you guys Billy Norton's family?!!" It was one of his former RMSEL students, and she had overheard us telling the band leader that our daughter's name is also Wendell. This was our tell. I guess not too many folks have a little girl named Wendell!  Crazy small world!


This special day ended with NY style pizza from Pizza Delicious back in our neighborhood. We brought it home, got in our jammies and wrote in our journals. I was amazed at the density of the day...how we packed in so many special experiences. But that is New Orleans for you..."unlike any city in America, it's cultural diversity is woven into the food, the music, the architecture--even the local superstitions. It's a sensory experience on all levels and there is a story lurking around every corner."

New Orleans is unlike any city in America. Its cultural diversity is woven into the food, the music, the architecture - even the local superstitions. It's a sensory experience on all levels and there's a story lurking around every corner.
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/ruta_sepetys_515432?src=t_new_orleans