This week my maternal grandmother, Mary Alice McCormick, passed away. She was 86, had been in decline for a year, and went peacefully in her sleep with my mother and uncle beside her.
4 Generations: Mary Alice, my mother Kathy, my sister Anna, and my niece Grace.
As I think about her life, I realize how I've seen her differently at different phases of my life. As a child, she was, naturally, revered. Now I realize how my tee-totaling, Southern-Baptist parents projected their values on to my perception of my grandparents; as a child, I assumed they were "good" Baptists, too. Only later, did I realize that all of my grandparents, like most from south Louisiana, liked to drink; Maw Maw was also into ballroom dancing. As a teenager, Maw Maw was a familial novelty. And as an adult, I started to know her as an adult, and that's when the trouble started.
Maw Maw had a difficult personality. She would frequently foist unwanted and unnecessary advice on you and do so in less than diplomatic terms. She was often an argument waiting to happen, and as an adult, that turned me off. Over time, though, I gained some insight into some of the psychological dynamics behind the behavior I didn't like. And right now, I'm less inclined to think about some of the things that she said and more about some of the things she did. Though she never had much (She married my good-for-nothing grandfather.), she was reliably generous and hospitable. She loved books, and she was a good storyteller. She will be missed.
The delicious pecan pie Nicole made for Thanksgiving.
It was Thanksgiving in the U.S. In Canada, that occurs in early October. Nevertheless, Nicole prepared a traditional tofurky feast, and afterward we watched the Saints almost give a game away to the Dallas Cowboys. I was telling a co-worker that I prefer the U.S.'s Thanksgiving to Canada's. There the end-of-year holidays begin with the light and fun Halloween. A month later, the holidays escalate with Thanksgiving. A month later, the holidays crescendo with Christmas, followed by a coda at New Year's. Of course in New Orleans, there's Twelfth Night, too. I thoroughly enjoyed the Thanksgiving here, and when I brought my co-workers half of Nicole's pecan pie, they enjoyed it, too.
Most of you know that Nicole and I got married. Though there's some of you who don't, but now you do. However, many of you don't know that this November we'll celebrate our fourth anniversary.
So here's the story. Way back in 2006, in the post-Katrina summer, Nicole and I went on our first date to hear Kermit Ruffins at Vaughn's. (If you've been watching the Treme, you're familiar with the act. Actually, Kermit and his music figure prominently in this video.)
I found aspects of post-Katrina New Orleans rather romantic; things were starting over and just being there felt like an act of defiance. I likened it to living in post-WWII Paris. So naturally, we fell in love.
Our relationship was going great, when we decided to take a vacation to Vancouver in November. But then, Nicole wasn't allowed back in the US, because her papers weren't in order. A week later, she was given a visa solely for the purpose of getting her van and belongings back into Canada. The visa would expire in a matter of days, and then she'd have to remain in Canada indefinitely.
Well at that point, I'd had five straight months of her hot lovin'. There was no way in hell I was letting my Canuck cookie out of my clutches. So the next day, we went to the Gretna courthouse, eloped, and told Immigration to suck it.
So why'd it take so long for you to hear about it? Well, at first, it was our secret, which made it all the more romantic. We hadn't been together that long, and while we definitely wanted to continue our relationship, we weren't ready to publicly wear the "married couple" label. Then after that, of course, we had the house fire and were completely distracted by that. And the truth is the period after that has been a difficult one for each of us as well as our relationship. There never seemed to be the "right" time.
But now that we're starting over again in St. John's, I hope that our lives and relationship are entering a happier phase. And I'm happy to have Nicole in my life.
Next week, Nicole and her parents (and our cats) begin their trek from Toronto to St. John's. They leave Tuesday and will arrive Saturday morning.
It goes without saying that Nicole has had a lot to do. (Yet I say it anyway.) I feel bad that I can't help her with it, and I feel glad that I don't have to. But while I may have escaped the hassle of moving out, I cannot escape the hassle of moving in, starting a new job, moving to a new city, and immigrating to a new country. The pile of tedious phone calls and documents seems endless.
I realize that few enjoy fumbling with the minutiae of modern life, but I honestly dread it. Sure I get it done, but the whole time I'm, say, interacting with an automated phone system to, say, set up my internet, I've got a script rolling in the back of my head--Why in the hell am I wasting my brain power on this? Such experiences have revealed something about myself--I like ideas, thinking about "the big picture," but I don't like dealing with all the details that go into that big picture.
Bart's photo of Friends of Lafitte Corridor, on an annual hike of the route.
Here's an example. Years ago, I was walking with my friend Bart when we crossed a dead railroad bed, and I said that someone ought to make it a bike trail. That happened one or two more times, before Bart started a group, Friends of Lafitte Corridor. To make a very long story short, this group became the impetus for making this trail a reality. That is, after a lot of work by Bart and other volunteers, New Orleans' City Hall signed a contract with a design firm; the bike trail/park is going to happen, marking a major improvement in New Orleans' infrastructure. Bart has credited me with the idea, and I appreciate that. But the truth is I didn't do, nor would have done, dick-all to make that happen. I had a big idea but no patience for the details.
I can't wait for Nicole and our kittens to arrive. As we begin our lives in this new city, I should invest myself more in the details of some of my ideas.
I recommend you have some Pepto-Bismal in your stomach when you start and a stiff drink ready for when you're done. I'm not joking. It is, of course, damning of Rove and Bush but also Nagin and Vitter.
My letter about the article to salon is the third one posted under Mr_Humidity. Since I first posted, it's been made Editor's Choice.
Today's the first anniversary of our house fire. I think about where the time went and what's changed.
For me, the most painful thing about the house fire was the death of my cat, Oleanna. I'd had her for 14 years, my first pet I'd gotten on my own, and a companion through every significant phase of my adulthood. She was a smart, funny, loving cat. In a strange way, I feel some guilt about having moved on without her.
So where has the year gone? I realize now it can be divided into three phases. First, the insurance post-mortem from June to October. Second, our period in Oakville, Ontario from October to Februrary. Our period in Toronto from February to the present. Each phase was four months, strange.
What do I have to show for the year? Insurance money and much, though not all, of my belongings replaced. Life in a (slightly) different country.
The most significant accomplishment was writing my screenplay Alien Harvest, and by a fluke of timing, yesterday I mailed that script to Ridley Scott's assistant. I realize the odds aren't good, but at the risk of indulging in some writerly jargon, I feel like I owe it to the characters to give them a chance. I've gotten some really positive feedback from the three people who've read the script--Nicole, Bart, and my friend here John O'Neill. None of them (not even Nicole) dole out compliments insincerely, which I appreciate. Two of them said one of the best things a writer can hope to hear--Once I started reading, I couldn't put it down. (I've gotten some very helpful suggestions, too.) So I'm hoping that Ridley Scott's assistant is curious enough to pick it up and just read the first few pages.
Also, yesterday, my attorney filed suit against the company whose product started the fire. We've all heard of the elderly woman made a millionaire because she spilled McDonald's coffee. So what sum do you think you could pursue from a company whose product burned your house down, killed your cats, and put your life in a tailspin? Well, not much, no where close to what that woman got. Part of that has to due with the conservative judges appointed in New Orleans, yet another way the Bush administration is fucking me over.
I don't want to end on that negative note. So I'll say that I feel like my life is moving in a positive direction. I don't know the external destination, but inside the trip feels OK with the possibility of improving.
Yesterday, Sydney Pollack died, and for some reason I feel compelled to write about him. I didn't know him, though he is on my list of celebrities I've encountered. My sister's brother-in-law worked as his assistant for The Interpreter, and it sounds like Sydney treated him well.
There were a lot of things about Sydney Pollack I liked. I'd seen him interviewed on "Inside the Actors' Studio," and I liked his thoughts about film-making, finding the "spine" of the story. Recently, he made an ad that plays in movie theaters right before the feature starts, admonishing a character not to talk on the phone during the film. I like that. As much as anything, his persona seemed to be that of a bright, decent person.
Most of all, though, I liked his films. The two that readily come to mind are Out of Africa and Tootsie. But after checking IMDB, I learned he'd directed a number of films I'd admired: The Electric Horseman, Three Days of the Condor, and Absence of Malice. Until The Big Lebowski usurped it, Tootsie had been my favorite comedy. So last night, we watched it. Frankly, I can't think of a better way to remember an artist.
Here's how I encountered Sydney Pollack. During the pentultimate New Orleans Film Festival, Nicole and I had gone to see Al Franken: God Spoke at Canal Place. We were lined up outside, and seating for the film was running late, really late, 40-minutes late. I'd asked at the box office what was going on, and they said the director was talking about the film in there. Turns out, it was Sydney, talking about his Sketches of Frank Gehry. As he was leaving, he walked right past us. Usually when I see celebrities, I leave them alone, and that's what I did in this case. What I would never do is try to befriend them in some way. If I genuinely liked their work, I may tell them--that's it. So as I watched him walk by me, I thought about going up to him and saying,"Tootsie was a great film." But I thought what he really wanted was to be left alone, so I did. But now, I don't know, I wish I'd told him I appreciated his work.
I went to Salon.com and saw the headline "Inside the V-Dome: Celebrities! A giant clitoris!". Naturally, I clicked on it. Under the article's title, I was surprised to find, "A giant clitoris! Healing circles! Celebrities! It's the 10th anniversary of 'The Vagina Monologues,' but the real star is New Orleans." Wow!
The article was about a special performance at the Superdome that also dealt with Katrina. It sounded great.
Now that I'm in Toronto, I'm reminded of another experience I had when I left New Orleans for another city, Phoenix. As I've written, I do miss New Orleans; I know what that means. But I've been thinking what specifically I miss.
I've read that New Orleans is one of America's three legendary cities; such legend and all the feelings that surround it are a big part of what's missing in my experience in other cities. It gave me the sense that I was part of something much larger and deeper. By way of contrast, when I look at Toronto or Phoenix, I had the strong feeling that everyone was there simply to be a consumer, a pretty empty prescription for life. (Though, I've just begun to learn about Toronto.) Perhaps coincidentally, Phoenix and Toronto have god-awful traffic, a system that puts one in an adversarial relationship with everyone around them, not great for a sense of community. Such living calls to mind the words of Tyler Durden: "Advertisement has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate, so we can buy shit we don't need."
One of the aspects of life in New Orleans gets touched upon every time we call it "the Big Easy." What does that mean exactly? For me, it means that a considerable part of the city's culture lives in rejection to the terms of global capitalism. In New Orleans, there's the sense that there's more to life than being a cog in a coporate wheel, making as much money as you can for someone else. So many people have a do-it-yourself spirit and a sense of community, investing their lives in causes and projects, rather than just buy and spend. Though, to the outside world, that's a liability. After Katrina, we frequently heard how the city was a poor one. That referred to many of its citizens but also to the corporate wealth within the city. In many ways, New Orleans could be ahead of the times, a model for a post-corporate world if we ever get there (and we need to).
If there's a danger in having a legend it's that it could can keep you looking back and not forward. I think that happened before the storm. Likewise, the city government is an absymal failure. New Orleans may not be the wealthiest city, but nothing excuses the gross incompetence of its administration. Since the storm, people have gotten much more politically active. I hope that start to bring some accountability to the city's government.
Yesterday, after I posted about BSG, I looked over my recent postings and thouht it was kind of pathetic. All of my recent posts have largely been about the media, with embedded clips. There hasn't been a lot of writing about what's going on with me. THAT ALL CHANGES TODAY!
So what's been going on? Not much.
OK, that's not good writing. Honestly, I find myself really bored, which might explain why I consume so much media and post about it. Since I arrived in Canada, I'd looked forward to exploring Toronto. But the weather really inhibitied that. Sunday I found out this winter we were 8 inches (i.e., not much at all) from breaking the record for all-time snow fall. With that kind of weather, you really don't even feel like leaving the house, so I did so as little as possible. Last week, it rained continuously for two days--high's in the low 40's, continuous rain; I'd just as soon take the 8 inches of snow. This week looks like the first to offer some decent weather--still cold, but at least sunny.
Something else has restricted my exploration of the city--the cost of getting around. I do live in the city, but in a neighborhood a bit more family oriented than I'd like. I'd compare it to the Carrollton area near S. Claiborne. Public transit is good and readily available, but it's pretty darn expensive--$2.75, $2.25 if you buy tokens in advance. Compare that to $2 in New York (which is a vastly better system), and $1.25 in New Orleans and that cost starts to add up. All of the city is set up so there's practically no where you can park without paying about $4 for it. The parking meters here are expensive, run until 9 pm, and are rigorously enforced. Having to shell out $4-5 every time you go somewhere gets old. This week, I've got to get a bike.
I have found some gems, though. Actually, Nicole found them. The Cameron House is a great neighborhood bar (another neighborhood) not falling into one of the two types of bars commonly found in Toronto, a pub or some swank, mod club. It's got a creative flare and interesting history. Essentially, it feels like a bar in New Orleans. Sunday night I was there at the bar, waiting for the band, Kevin Quain and the Mad Bastards, to start. I overheard the bartender talking to someone who'd just arrived. The guy said how much he liked the bar, and the bartender said, "Yeah, it's got this kind of New Orleans feel to it." I said, "I'm from New Orleans, and I think you're right, which is why I like it." Then, as always happens, the guy had a lot of questions about what's going on in New Orleans.
The band that night is a good instance of local music. I first heard them when Nicole and I took Megan's neighbor, Matt Ennis, there. The show was really great. Good music, great song writing, and a vibe I would compare to Tom Waits, though not at all derivative. Here's a video, though it doesn't do the grouop justice:
Otherwise, I'm busier than one might think about someone who doesn't have a job. Replacing practically everything you had takes time, and I hate to shop. And then there's a seemingly unending pile of bureaucratic hurdles to jump over. The latest, of course, were my taxes, which were extremely complicated, especially for someone who doesn't have a job. A bit of advice to those who own a double. If you ever imagine selling it two years in advance, you should set up residency in the other side of the double. When you report the sale of the property, any income made on that property won't be considered income from a business.
Speaking of saving money and as I've posted, today's the deadline for enrolling in Access to Care. Get on it, crazy people!
Update: I just learned that the enrollment deadline has been extended to the end of May and the coverage deadline has been extended to November 14th. That's two more months to procrastinate, crazy people.
If you know me, you know I'm always looking to save a buck. And you know I'm not a big fan of the cellphone.* So, when we moved into our Toronto apartment, I was looking for the best deal on a landline. I went with Vonage. I'm writing to recommend it if you have a landline, especially if you've also got a cellphone and high-speed internet.
For $20 a month, I get a package from Vonage that's worth at least $60, maybe $100. In the US, this package costs $15. It includes: 500 minutes anywhere in the US or Canada (after that 3.2 cents/minute) caller-id voice mail call waiting Any incoming calls or calls placed to other Vonage customers don't count against your 500, so we were in no danger of going over 500. But if you need more, you can get unlimited minutes for $40/month (only $25 in the US).
This is a great smoking deal, and that's why I'm posting about it. I highly recommend it over traditional landline providers. Really the only disadvantage Vonage has compared to the others is, if you lose power, you lose your phone line. Generally, that's never been an issue, though, and as I said, if you have a cellphone it really shouldn't matter.
The main thing you need is a high-speed internet connection, typically DSL or a cable modem. They'll send you an adapter to plug into your router or modem which will work with any regular phone.
But there's another thing. Vonage offers what they call a V-phone, which allows you to make calls through any PC on the web. That would by-pass the router and adapter all together. Which means, with New Orleans' free wifi, one conceivably could get a phone line for just $15 a month without the overhead of an internet connection. That's hard to beat! (Though, the city's free service isn't the greatest. But any calls you receive while not on-line would just go to your voicemail, which you can also check over the web.)
OK, I hope this helps you save some dough if you've got a landline. If you should sign up with Vonage and mention that I referred you, I'll get two months free. (Let me know if you need my phone number.) Though the purpose of this post is to tell you a great way to possibly save money, not sell you on something.
Good luck! And let me know how that goes. ___________________________ *I'm not a big fan of the cellphone, until I return to Louisiana and use my dad's, which was once mine but given to him for Christmas once I tired of it. (Merry Christmas, Dad.)
This trip was a good one. I had a lot of nice visits, and I got a lot accomplished. One of the more noteworthy accomplishments was picking up the Firebird, which I drove hither and yon across the city and southeast Louisiana. Last night, as I put it in my parent's garage and covered it, it was difficult not to feel sad, like I was putting aside something beautiful that demands admiration. That's how I feel about New Orleans, too.
I was glad to see noticeable progress in the city, nothing dramatic just a few more restored buildings and a few less derelict ones. It's encouraging.
Thanks to all those who hosted me: Mom & Dad, Angelle, Megan & Andy, Bruce, and Matt. In addition to them, it was great to see: Chris & Mary, Veronica, Alex, Anna Maria, Leslie, Phil, Paulie, Bob & Julie, Matt & Lauren, and Bart, Christy and wee-little Persephone.
Just as I love visiting people, I love eating some good food, so (much to Nicole's envy) here are some of the placess I frequented: La Boulangerie, Surrey's, Rue de la Course, 13, Mimi's, the Saint, Vaughn's, d.b.a., Elizabeth's, Trey Yuen, Pho Tau Bay, Angelo Bracato's, Juan's Flying Burrito, Blue Frog Chocolates. Music wise, I got to see my beloved New Orleans Bingo Show!, the Hot Club of New Orleans and Broken Smokes. I'd intended to see more, but I was having a hard time sleeping and thus a hard time staying out late.
Of course, leaving means always wishing you had more time to visit more people and more places. Though leaving can be a downer, I'm looking forward to getting home, to my cold, snow-covered home. I can't wait to see my loving Nicole and sweet angels, Ella and Eartha. All that lies between me and them is Canadian Customs.
I've learned that Turbo Tax offers its services for free in three cases, the most likely being you have an adjusted gross income under $30,000. Here's the link. I did qualify and found it helpful, since my taxes were pretty complicated this year. Please pass this along to anyone who could use it.
By the way, I'm not up in the great white north right now. I'm down in Louisiana, doing things like my taxes. When I'm not caught in that drudgery, I'm enjoying visits with people.
The American Red Cross offers anyone affected by Hurricane Katrina $2000 for any kind of mental health treatment. I write this to encourage you (or anyone you know) to avail themselves of this resource. The program is called Access to Care, and you can enroll simply by clicking here or calling 1-866-794-HOPE (4673).
I was seeing a therapist after the hurricane, and it was nice to have this available. By going on-line, I signed up in less than ten minutes. Claiming the benefit was relatively simple, too. The benefit is broad in its application. The subject of your therapy doesn't have to be directly about Katrina, per se. That's not to say you're screwing the Red Cross over; the manifestations of the stress of the hurricane is unique to each individual.
Also, the benefit will pay you for therapy retroactively. Any therapy you've paid for since the hurricane can be refunded, essentially amounting to a windfall. Don't delay, though. The deadline to sign up is the end of March. The deadline to use the benefit is the end of September (I think). The deadline to file your last claim is the end of December.
Near the conclusion of his Super Tuesday speech, Obama said the following: "Change will not come if we wait for some other person or if we wait for some other time. We are the ones we've been waiting for. We are the change that we seek." I found that incredibly empowering, a needed change from the cynicism of most politicians. He went on to refer to the rebuilding of New Orleans.
Here's his speech in New Orleans yesterday.
Barack Obama speech
New Orleans, don't let me down tomorrow.
Update: When I posted the speech, I'd only watched the first 40% of it. I watched it all today, and I've got to say, even as someone supporting Obama, I was surprised and encouraged by what he said. That is, he articulated a vision for the city post-Katrina that many of us had immediately afterward--keeping the best parts, losing the worst, creating an example of a just city.
Also, according to Huffington Post, there's a low turn-out expected in Louisiana. Hey--it's Saturday afternoon! Do you know where your ballot box is?
With the presidential primaries as tight as ever, it looks like it's good that Louisiana's primary is all by itself this Saturday. I hope that it affords the state some much-needed attention from the Presidential candidates.
Get out and vote y'all (for Obama).
I had two ways to vote: through an absentee ballot from Louisiana or through Democrats Abroad. I received an absentee ballot, but went with Democrats abroad just because I'd have to return the absentee ballot by Friday, which would be a hassle. The Democratic party affords 11 delegates to all Democrats living abroad, and they offer two ways to vote in that primary. Vote on-line or in person. Last night, I voted in person. The polling center was a pub, and it was packed. All the TV's were on the election returns, not hockey. I'm glad I voted. But Nicole was really turned on by it. After I voted, I said "That's the way we do it. No pledge to the queen, no nothing!"
Update: I've enjoyed Harry Shearer's latest le Show, focusing on Mardi Gras. His quote in describing the costumes on Mardi Gras day, "Even the straight men are creative."
When Nicole and I started dating, she refered to her hometown as "Jokeville." When I first visited, I didn't understand. It's got a charming downtown with nice restaurants, coffeehouses, bars, and public library, seemingly the foundation a pleasant civic life. But having lived here a while, I get it.
Oakville is a nice town, once distinct from the greater Toronto area. Historically, it was once an end point in the Underground Railroad, as escaping slaves were smuggled to a local church in coffins. But now it's a suburb where Canadian yuppies go to raise kids or retire. In short, it's got no soul. None.
What I find really surprising is my absolute lack of desire to go to the nice restaurants or bars just blocks away from me. It's really illuminated my experience in New Orleans. That is, in New Orleans, I loved going to bars and restaurants in large part, because in doing so, I was connecting to something, the city's rich culture. It was a point of pride for me that, prior to leaving, when I walked in the Balcony Bar I was invariably greeted by several people who knew me by name.
I realize Toronto's culture will not be as rich as New Orleans', but I'm hoping there will be something there I want to be a part of.
Well, my main Christmas tradition, the watching of "Bad Santa," has been thwarted. I thought my DVD of it had made the trip up to Canada, but last night when I looked for it, I couldn't find it. What's really frustrating is a few days ago I was in the public library, saw their DVD copy of "Bad Santa" on the shelf, thought about checking it out just in case, but didn't because I didn't want something else to keep track of. Then, on the 23rd, "Bad Santa" was on TV. But I didn't tape it or anything. I believed I already had a copy. The universe was trying to tell me I didn't, but I didn't listen.
Why do I like "Bad Santa?" Simply because the main character strips away any illusions about this holiday, and lays bare the real significance of this holiday's primary character. (Sorry, Jesus.) Harry Shearer's latest episode of "Le Show" was pretty funny and cynical. It did some of "Bad Santa"'s heavy lifting for me this year. You can download it here.
Here's my favorite line from "Bad Santa." When a kid tells bad Santa his Christmas wish, he retorts, "Well wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up first." I guess this is my way of saying I'm not feeling the Christmas spirit this year. Sorry. But for me, the thought that our society has a season in which a common refrain is "Peace on Earth, and good will towards men" does not sit well with me. I mean I find it disgusting. "Peace on Earth?" That's a punchline, really. I mean, there's no way to deliver that with a straight face. What's really irritating is the "good will towards men" part. I think that's because juxtaposed with peace on Earth, good will towards men seems so simple, such a relatively small request, and it's just as scarce as peace on Earth. So it's perversely appropriate that the culminating event in our society's season of "peace on Earth" is an orgy of consumerism. Want peace on Earth? Well, wish in one hand, shit in the other, and tell me which one fills up first.
Last night, Nicole made Christmas dinner. As we sat down to it, I played "O Holy Night" as performed by Trombone Shorty. As those sharp brass notes fell in my ears, I couldn't help it and started tearing up. As 2007 concludes, it's impossible to feel good about it. It's a year in which difficult situations have suffered serious setbacks, not just for me but my city as well, not just for my city but my country, not just for my country but the planet.
This holiday season I hope you are able to spend time with those you love and that such love gives us the courage to make this world a better place.
