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Almost seven years after it was swamped by Katrina, St. Genevieve Catholic Church on Bayou Liberty has been rebuilt. I pass the church on my daily commute, so I watched in January 2007 as they demolished the old church , … Continue reading
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I have been lucky in friending Plaquemines Parish P.J. Hahn, Director of Coastal Zone Management on facebook and following his photography. I did so during the oilspill of 2010, knowing he would provide local, honest first-person reporting of an incident … Continue reading
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Another (partial) milestone was reached today in the City that Care Forgot’s recovery from the aftermath of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita: a portion of the Louis Armstrong Park in the Faubourg Tremé neighborhood re-opened! The Tremé Brass Band kicked things … Continue reading
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On Halloween Day, six years ago, I realized I had to do something about the myths that were taking root and quickly becoming established fact about the New Orleans flooding during Katrina. Nine weeks after the levee failures and deadly … Continue reading
“A nuanced view of the city and its people, Flood Streets shows the changing landscape of New Orleans as it has never been seen before, dispelling the stereotypes about this tragic, defiant, joyful city.” — LaFilm.net
“Flood Streets is dotted with incidental wit and wry observations of life in the Big Easy, which isn’t always.” — Amy Biancolli/The Houston Chronicle
“A unique story of hope and despair, of determination and crazy-ass creativity, told bravely and told well.” — Harry Shearer
Helen Krieger
These are just three of the many positive comments I found while researching Helen Kriegers production of Flood Streets, her first film production. Helen and her husband Joseph Meissner, who directed and acts in the film, moved to New Orleans in 2001 and quickly fell into the eclectic, artsy community life in Bywater. They evacuated for Hurricane Katrina and were displaced, like so many New Orleanians, for six weeks of an enforced exile. The screenplay for Flood Streets is based on Helen’s book of short stories, In the Land of What Now, a fictionalized account of her experiences in post federal flood New Orleans.
Flood Streets‘ awards include:
Best Picture winner at the 2011 Action on Film Festival
Gold Remi winner at the 44th Annual WorldFest-Houston
Best Director, runner-up, at the White Sands Int’l Film Festival
Best Director, nominee, Action on Film Festival
I recently spoke with Helen about Flood Streets, life in New Orleans and the crafts of writing and film-making.
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Helen, I understand Flood Streets is based on your book, In the Land of What Now, and is your first film production. What made you decide to produce a film with no previous film making experience and how do you think that impacted your film?
Although I had made a couple short films before Flood Streets, they were on a much smaller scale and were done basically as practice for this movie. Flood Streets was my first feature.
When my husband, Joseph, and I were evacuated for the storm, we didn’t know what we could come back to from our former lives. We didn’t know if the city was going to come back, so it was really like an early midlife crisis for both of us. For six weeks we sat at my parent’s house up in Wisconsin and started thinking about our lives and what we most wanted to do.
I realized I’d neglected my writing, and Joseph really wanted to get back into acting. We decided to put the two of these interests together to write a movie Joseph could act in. That’s really how I made the leap from fiction to film – it made so much sense for us to work together like that.
Once I got into script writing, I really enjoyed it, because one of my favorite things to write is dialogue. Also, I enjoyed the increased collaboration and input you get writing a screenplay. Everyone from the actor to the caterer has read your script so you get a wide variety of opinions and input. It’s really exciting. Having said that, I love writing short stories, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop. Short stories are where I really connect with myself creatively and where I feel free to develop ideas.
Producing a movie for my first time could have been a disaster except that I had so much support from the community. I was mentored by two veteran New Orleans filmmakers, Glen Pitre and Michelle Benoit. They’ve been helping me with this project for the past three years. They helped me with the script, with getting everything ready to shoot, with editing, and now with publicity and the festival circuit. They’re really an amazing resource.
I also took a lot of classes at the New Orleans Video Access Center (NOVAC). I joke with people that NOVAC was my film school.
What was the first concrete step for you in learning how to produce a film?
I read a lot of books and took a lot of classes for the years preceding our shoot. I took a Film Accounting class at NOVAC that helped me put everything into perspective. The accountant is the one responsible for paying everyone else, so you get a good long view on what it takes to make a production happen. That was amazing experience.
I also had many meetings with Glen and Michelle where I just furiously scribbled down notes as they went over my budget and explained what I needed and how it would work. Then we were really fortunate to get an experienced indie line producer to work with us, Miceal Og O’Donnel. Once we had pulled our key team together, he helped us get everyone moving in the right direction.
We didn’t always know what we were doing, but we were fortunate enough to have a lot of people around us who did!
I read that Katrina and life post-K was a big influence on your decision to persue writing and film-making full-time. Do you think your life would have taken this turn if you hadn’t experienced the storm and life after?
That’s a great question. I think about that sometimes, and I just don’t know. I think eventually I would have gotten to this path because it’s something I’m so interested in, and it really suits me. But it may have taken a lot longer for me to get here.
Like I said, Katrina was an early midlife crisis, so without Katrina and that six-week hurrication of stress and soul searching, maybe my midlife crisis would still be some years away.
Oct 16 is the New Orleans premier of Flood Streets. How does it feel to be presenting your film about life in post-K New Orleans in New Orleans?
I’m so excited, because I’ve been working on this film for years, and so many people in the city have helped me and have been waiting to see it. We didn’t have a huge budget, but we wanted to create the best film we could, so we took our time editing, almost 15 months.
This spring we had our world premiere in Houston and that started a tour of film festivals across the country. We’ve had such great response, but audiences don’t get the inside jokes that New Orleanians will get. Also, the film shows a part of the city that often gets lost in post-Katrina films or documentaries – our sense of humor. When I tell people this is a film about Post Katrina New Orleans, I always have to add, “But it’s not a downer.” We wanted to show what there is that still draws us to this city and that draws all the people who have moved here since the storm.
It’s now over six years after the storm and I’m wondering if, when you talk about the subject of your film, you encounter any lingering “Katrina fatigue” or do people now get that it was the levees, not the storm, that really devastated New Orleans.
We get some Katrina fatigue when we first tell people about the movie because they think they’ve seen it before, and that it’s going to be one of those very depressing stories about flood victims. But our story isn’t necessarily about Katrina and none of our characters consider themselves victims.
Flood Streets takes place 15 months after the storm, and we use that surreal backdrop in the movie a lot, but essentially the movie is about the characters and their struggles. These struggles are definitely heightened and changed in unexpected ways because of the storm, but ultimately I wanted to show how life goes on, no matter how surreal the backdrop. By picking up this story well after the initial shock of the storm has passed, we get to show that weird stage after a disaster when you realize you’re still essentially the same person with the same problems to deal with. Only now you can’t get mailed delivered to your house…
In terms of the people being educated about what devastated New Orleans… I don’t think that’s happened yet. There’s still this narrative out there that New Orleans is all below sea level, and it was only a matter of time. Very few people know about the complicated system of human decisions that resulted in the federal flooding of New Orleans. People like Harry Shearer have been doing a great job educating people. His documentary about the levees, “The Big Uneasy,” has been touring the country educating people, so I’m hoping people start to understand.
Do you think locals will be more critical of the film than outsiders?
Definitely, because it’s their story that we’re telling, but I’m pretty confident they’re going to enjoy it. One of the reasons we wanted to do an ensemble storyline with multiple characters is because we wanted to hint at the diversity of stories in the city. There is no one post Katrina story and no one way of reacting to the storm, so I hope locals will see themselves or people they know in the characters we’ve chosen.
I understand you show a diversity of the musical talent we have here in Nola instead of relying only on Jazz or Brass Bands as is seen in many film and TV productions. Was that a deliberate decision? How did you choose which genres and/or musicians to include?
That was a very deliberate decision. We love traditional New Orleans music, but we’re even more interested in how traditions continue to evolve with each new generation who takes them on. This is what makes New Orleans such an exciting place for musicians and artists to live. We didn’t want to portray a museum to jazz or funk; we wanted to shed light on the contradictions and collaborations at the edge of our ever-evolving culture.
We also wanted to put more of the musical focus on youth culture because this is where changes are often happening. When young musicians couldn’t get into mainline brass bands they formed their own. Influenced by hip hop as well as jazz, a new generation of second-lining was born. When indie rocker Clint Maedgen joined the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, he brought a new voice to the most traditional band in New Orleans. The Zydepunks blend traditional and new to create a heart-pounding new style. The Panorama Jazz Band takes influences from jazz, klezmer and brass bands to pull together their unique sound.
This was the New Orleans music we really wanted to share, and audiences across the country are really excited to hear it. After screenings, people always comment on the music and say how surprised they are by the diversity of music in the city, so I guess we’re doing our job!
All but two of the actors and all of the crew were New Orleanians. Why do you think that was important for the telling of your story?
It was important to us to use locals on the cast and crew as much as possible. First, it’s just part of our mission as local filmmakers to showcase the talent we have here in the city.
Also, for the kind of story we were telling it was so important to have those authentic voices. This isn’t a crime story or an action adventure with lots of graphic effects. We’re telling a character based story about a very particular time and place, so it was so important for us to make sure we were getting that voice right, and it was nice to know we could rely on our actors.
Almost all our actors had been through the storm or the evacuation, and they felt we were giving an accurate portrayal of the city. Based on the script they trusted us to tell this complicated, nuanced story, and we in turn trusted them to tell us whenever something didn’t ring true. They brought costumes, props, they really went out of their way to help us do this right. And because they were from New Orleans they got that subversive sense of humor we have, even in disasters. They didn’t feel like they had to walk on eggshells about the material, because it was their story too.
I read in the press kit that your neighborhood rallied around you and the film became a real community effort. Tell us a little bit about that.
We filmed most of the movie in Bywater, in about 48 different locations, and almost all of them were donated by neighbors who wanted to see us make this film. Coffee shops, corner stores, shotgun apartments, warehouses, flooded houses in various stages of repair… people opened up all these spaces to us despite our meager budget.
In one case we were shooting a scene where a band places on the street. The band was Debauche, a young, local band that plays very energetic Russian music, and we needed to shoot this in front of a Bywater house. We knocked on doors up and down the street and let people know what was going to be going on, then when we got to the house we were going to be shooting in front of, we knocked and tentatively told the owner, “We’ve got this band, and we wanted to know if it’s okay if they play in front of your house…” It was an older guy, so we didn’t know how it would go over. “Who’s the band?” he said. I told him it was Debauche, and I figured he was too old, but he immediately started clapping his hands. It turned out he was a big fan! He told us to do whatever we needed to, to come into his house if we had to. He ended up dancing in his living room the whole time they were playing!
We also had so much luck getting background people in our film. As soon as a musician would start playing, people would come out of their homes or stop on their bikes and dance. A lot of people made it into the movie that way!
Are you working on any other projects you’d like to share with us?
Why yes, thank you! I’m working on the scripts for two projects right now.
The first is another feature film, this one set in the heart of an impoverished New Orleans neighborhood. A group of punk, DIY activists stage elaborate puppet shows and dangerous tall bike jousts in their communal-living warehouse, but when a pregnant friend arrives with nowhere else to go, it’s their chance to remake their social experiment into a true community. We’re excited to work with some of the amazing artists in New Orleans for this project.
The second is something totally different for me. I’m working on episodic writing, an original musical comedy series I’m creating for web or cable. Molly is a sex-starved, struggling writer who can’t get the attention of her indie rocker boyfriend, so she takes a job exploring New Orleans amorous underbelly. I’ve been describing it as “Sex in the City” meets “Flight of the Conchords”. It deals with journalism, art and sexual politics while featuring original music and a beautifully choreographed tribal bellydance sequence in each episode. I’ve gotten together with a composer, lyricist and choreographer, so I’m really excited to get working on this.
Where do you see yourself as an artist in five years? What are your goals?
The more I write, the more I realize I love writing, so my future plans all have to do with finding more ways to do that. I’m very interested in writing for TV or cable because story is really king in these mediums, and so the writers get a lot of control over their sets. From casting to choosing props and working with the directors, the writers are typically the head producers in charge of their series. Having had experience producing shorts and now a feature, I feel like this could be a good fit for me.
With episodic writing, you get more time to tell a story than you do in a 90-minute feature film. With shows like “The Wire” and “Mad Men,” TV writing has risen to the next level. By following multiple characters’ storylines throughout the season, episodic writing has become a modern version of a sweeping, 19th century novel. It’s become a place where some of the best writers go to tell their stories, and with original web content starting to get some serious viewership, it’s easier to get into this highly competitive field.
Plus, how fun would it be to put together a writers room where one of the most solitary tasks, coming up with storylines and characters, can become a group effort? I could definitely do that for the rest of my life.
But like I said before, I’ll never stop writing short stories and other kinds of fiction. It’s where I feel free to really play with an idea no matter how ridiculous. Short fiction was my first genre as a writer, and I think I’ll never truly get over my love for it.
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The New Orleans premiere of Flood Streets will be during the New Orleans Film Festival on Sunday, October 16 at 4:45 at Pyrtania Theatre. The trailer can be viewed below and up to the minute information can be found on their FaceBook page.
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I was reading some of my favorite blogs on Friday evening when I came across this post from NOLA Defender blog . Free admission to several Museums in the city? Sounds like us! We looked thru the list and chose … Continue reading
Daisy Pignetti* is participating on a panel at the Oxford Internet Institute symposium at Oxford University in England and is presenting her paper “Blogging the Unfinished Story in post-Katrina New Orleans” on Friday. Her paper features my writing from my … Continue reading
On Writing in the Wake of Katrina
I watched CNN on Sunday for a long time, following the path of Hurricane Irene, worrying about relatives and friends who were in various states along the storm’s expected travels. As it became clear that the inland flooding from overflowing riverbanks would be by far the greatest danger to them, a tiny part of me jumped into a familiar anxiety mode, while another was outraged by the screaming coverage on television. While I pray for the families who lost loved ones, and I do empathize with the people, and there are many, who lost their homes, I was nevertheless annoyed by the continuous loop of video showing a lifeguard station in New Jersey coming off the sand and running into the boardwalk. That video was followed, on a fairly regular basis, by a photograph of a park bench, half hidden by water perhaps 3 ft deep, that the anchors kept looking at in amazement remarking that it had moved—all the way across the street. They were nearly dumbstruck with awe. I meanwhile remembered the endless loop of people on roofs, helicopters with little kids hanging in baskets and, of course, one bit of footage of a looter that was looped like the yarn on my grandmother’s crochet hooks around every other bit of footage as the levees broke six years ago. The coverage was frustrating and more than a little infuriating.
Doubtless there is someone in one of those states looking at the destruction Irene left behind and screaming with fury at the looping footage that doesn’t tell even a tenth of the story.
As Katrina headed in towards land, we had left on the Sunday afternoon before the storm after flipping a coin. Not the best way to make a decision, but one that we admit to as it is true. Under a sound roof in Alabama, we watched that looping footage, switching stations frantically to get more information, maybe better information. What was happening to our city, to the people in it? As the video of water coursing through neighborhoods started, we were shocked.
Then came the reports of what was happening in the Superdome, at the Convention Center, on roofs and overpasses. People. Lots and lots of people waiting for help. Some asking for water, just some drinking water. Reporters saying there were bodies floating near the overpasses. This in our city. Our country. Another couple days went by and we decided to return home after scouring nola.com for other news, connecting with some people, finding comfort in communication, being told we were crazy to go back. We were told it was the Wild West, it was a catastrophe of monumental proportions, it was illegal. We put the map on the dining room table, plotted a route home that would take us north through Hattiesburg and Bogalusa, a route that took us about 150 miles out of our way. We’d buy gas along the way wherever we could find it. We couldn’t sit watching the video loops another minute. We felt compelled to come back and at least make an attempt to help.
As we headed south to the Sunshine Bridge in order to come up 90, we hooked up with some other New Orleans-bound travelers. All of us with the same compulsion to get back, to pitch in. We talked a lot when we stopped for gas or supplies about what we’d do if we couldn’t get into town. What if all the exits were blocked by Guardsmen? We all decided to risk it. As we came north, the southbound lanes looked like something out of a Steinbeck novel. People with furniture tied to the roofs of their cars, passengers sitting on tied down mattresses in the beds of pickup trucks. Not a vehicle was moving. A giant parking lot full of frantic people and a few of their possessions. We wondered where they were planning to go, but we kept heading up toward the city. In the lanes next to us were a few National Guard trucks, humvees, and some personnel. We and the other couple traveling in their car were the only civilians we saw. We got to our exit and miraculously it wasn’t blocked. There was no one around as we approached our house. It appeared that there was no one anywhere. We saw no chaos other than a house in the middle of an intersection and downed trees and power lines everywhere. We lived on the Westbank at that time. We had been lucky. Just the other side of the river it was an entirely different story.
After a quick recon around the neighborhood, we found out who was home, and there were several. We gathered all the news we could, but the information void put us into an alternate reality: we only knew what we saw or what we heard in our little area. It was that way for people in other neighborhoods as well we found out later. We found out that a food distribution point was going to be set up at Blaine Kern’s Mardi Gras world so the next day we went to offer our services. The people on Powder Street needed medication. The lady by the levee was hooking up with animal rescue folks and needed our dog crate.
Our power was out but the phone line miraculously still worked. We had brought enough gasoline in with us to get us back out if that’s what we thought we should do. Instead we poured it into a generator that our neighbor had and we shared that generator one hour a day. I still had a dial up modem in my computer so I rigged a connection to a dial up number for AOL in New Mexico. It worked. On September 12, 2005 I wrote my first mass email explaining what we were seeing here at that time. I wrote every couple days after that well into March of 2006.
I was asked what it felt like to write during that time. Necessary. That’s how it felt. It was necessary. It was eminently clear that news coverage was limited at best. That people in other parts of the country were getting barely a piece of the story. While I certainly couldn’t give a view of the entire city, I could absolutely tell people what was going on in my neck of New Orleans: what we had, what we didn’t have, when the power was expected to come on, where the food distribution was and who was distributing it.
After one week my mailing list swelled to over 200 as people forwarded my emails to each other and dropped me a line asking to be included on any future updates. AOL was convinced that I was running a gigantic spam operation, so I wrote them and explained where I was and what I was doing. They relented, allowing the emails to go out, and eventually the mailing list grew by another 50. I was getting emails from locals asking if we could check on their houses and post photos, I was getting emails from people outside of the country asking what they could do, I got emails from friends and others asking what they could send and how to send it as the post office wasn’t in service. I was getting emails from people saying that the original mail had been forwarded ten times until it reached them and that their thoughts and prayers were with us.
What started as a simple “we’re okay don’t worry” email had morphed into an on the ground news dissemination system and people wanted the information, not the stuff they were seeing on the news. They wanted the stories of what we were doing, who we had met, the incredible generosity of some guys who drove through the night to deliver much needed goods. We eventually managed to photograph several houses for people who couldn’t get back, and although it was slow going on dial up, we sent them out. It eventually got to a point where we could no longer send individual thank you emails, there were too many and our generator time was too short.
I said earlier that it was necessary to write at that time. It was. Not just because the news coverage was initially so bad, but because once that first email went out the responses we got sustained us. I am not sure how we would have managed those first few weeks without the support of all those emails. People we didn’t know were keeping us going when all we wanted to do was cry. A bond was forged with those strangers on my computer screen. I kept writing. They kept responding, and I felt a duty to continue sending out updates.
Many people sent boxes of supplies. Others sent vitamins and tasty things. They all came with notes of support, often with cash in them, and all with a comment about the frustration of trying to find a tangible way to help in that moment. So many kindnesses to balance the unfathomable cruelty of Katrina. It still chokes me up.
I had always written, an article here, a story there but nothing as regular as the emails written at that time. As the anger mounted and the sadness dropped us into pits of despair, the words were there being read somewhere by someone who cared even if we didn’t know their name. They met the people in my neighborhood, the people helping out. They heard the stories of the noble sons who’d stayed with their elderly, ill mothers. They heard the stories of lost people and our panic over their whereabouts. They heard about little triumphs and major hurdles. They heard about the heat and the exhaustion, the jubilation of power being turned back on, our first sight of Jackson Square covered in satellite trucks and humvees and old bandages instead of artists, and how many nails a tire can absorb before it becomes unusable.
In the writing of those missives I found the strength to cope with what I was seeing around me, and if the responses were to be believed, I was giving the people who read them a more realistic view of what was happening here during that time. Interestingly enough, six years later, sometimes those emails swirl through my consciousness with the tenacity of a CNN video loop.
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Sam blogs at New Orleans Slate and is a contributing author and co-editor of A Howling in the Wires: An Anthology of Writing from Postdiluvian New Orleans. Her emails chronicling the days after Katrina can be read at Katrina Refrigerator.
This year’s Rising Tide blogger conference was held at Xavier University in New Orleans. If you would like to read the events of the day, you can look on Twitter, hashtag #rt6 or @risingtide. New this year was an adjacent room hosting a tech school featuring several sessions on how to get the most out of your blogging and social media experience. Another great addition this year, the conference was webcast! The space at Xavier is one of the best yet, with plenty room to spread out, a myriad of vendors, and cool environs to participate in the event. The opening address by Sr. Monica Loughlin was a very warm welcome by the conference hosts, and Sr. Monica gave the audience a history of St. Katharine Drexel, the founder of Xavier, noting that she lived her life going against convention in order to achieve her vision, and that she would have been proud that a grassroots blogger assembly was being held on the grounds of her dream made reality, Xavier.
The first speaker was Richard Campanella, who spoke eloquently on the historical geography of New Orleans, and those implications on the current state of New Orleans’ neighborhoods. He has spent countless hours as a researcher gleaning information from local archives to write many books on the city. He presented a thorough picture of the city and surrounding regions and established a foundation of the relevance of New Orleans as a truly unique part of the country. The next presentation, the panel on social media and social justice promoted using social media to mobilize grassroots opposition to unjust legislation in state and federal politics. Moderated by Dr. Kimberly Chandler of Xavier University, it was a dynamic panel with good information on how to participate in social justice. Jimmy Huck who writes The Huck Upchuck blog, and follows Latino and immigrant issues in and around New Orleans presented issues concerning Latinos in New Orleans and stated that this demographic is much more plugged in than many people think and are able to participate in social media activism. One panel member noted that social media can also be used against the activists, with the case in point concerning the recent London Riots: pictures of rioters were posted on a website with a number assigned and people were asked to notify the authorities if they knew the individual in the picture. Scary thought indeed…
The lunchtime panel spoke on the Macondo/BP/Deepwater Horizon oil spill that began April 20, 2010 killing 11 people. The panel reviewed the spill timeline, and Bob Marshall discussed the fact that the Minerals Management Service was “in bed” with Louisiana politicians and the oil companies and how it is virtually impossible to change any oil company policy to benefit the citizens of Louisiana and the environment where we all live. Anne Rolfes reported that the oil industry has an exponential number of accidents that are not reported. Drake Toulouse of Disenfranchised Citizen commented on the post-oil spill financial claims distribution mess that Ken Fineberg inherited, and how his promises of distributing checks within 7 days went unfulfilled. The delays wound up wearing people down so they just gave up and took a check, but unfortunately are still living with the disaster effects on their health and finances. All agreed that the American Petroleum Institute controls congress, therefore citizens have little control over this mess and we are all screwed because of that. It was also reported that any remaining monies from the 20 billion BP put into the GCCF fund would be returned to the company, instead of distributing it to people suffering from the spill. Bob Marshall said that he recently watched again the 1948 Louisiana Story movie and how so long ago there was no value on the swamps and wetlands, but now that we realize the wetlands destruction equates a loss of a way of life in Louisiana, it might be too little too late to save the wetlands.
After a delicious lunch by J’Anitas, David Simon the second featured speaker explored the conceptual background of his series Treme’. He presented the fallacies of logic, speaking specifically about “standing” and ad hominem arguments, the second in which a person uses an argument against the other person as opposed to the subject being argued between them. He noted that politicians frequently use the ad hominem fallacy of logic, such as in health care debates and other political discourse. He also posited that “standing” is the lamest way politicians diminish political discourse, using as an example the controversy over the demolition of a row of houses on S. Derbigny street that were featured in the poster of the first season of Treme’. Simon also noted that because he is not a New Orleans local, he got Treme’ right because he bluntly inserted himself into New Orleans situations that perhaps a local would not have ventured, caring nothing about “standing” for or against anyone or anything. Simon also cautioned the audience about the biotech development proposal slated for construction alongside the new LSU medical center, and how Johns Hopkins in Baltimore promised the same. Unfortunately a decade later, the empty dirt filled lots which were to be filled with new businesses and research buildings are still that, empty…
After Simon, a delightful and lively panel discussion on New Orleans Food was moderated by Jeffrey of the Library Chronicles. The panel talked about the miraculous post-Katrina recovery of the restaurant industry and the ensuing burst of food creativity as described by Todd Price. Rene Louapre who writes Blackened Out pointed out how there have been no New Orleans chefs participating on Bravo’s Top Chef series, and the reason probably is that New Orleans chefs in their 30′s have abundant opportunity to open restaurants in the city than anywhere else because of the storm and the abandoned food establishments just waiting to be put back into commerce. Chef Adolfo Garcia recalled how many chefs worked together after Katrina to help each other and mobilize restaurant re-openings because there were so many people in town that needed places to eat: first responders, contractors, insurance people and others who had money to spend and nowhere to dine. A lively discussion ensued about assigning the nomenclature of Creole to the current cuisine being served in town and the question arose: is New Orleans losing its food identity? Alex del Castillo talked about mobile food vendors, “taco trucks”, setting roots into brick and mortar restaurants that contribute to the eclectic mix of New Orleans creole cuisine. Chris deBarr of Green Goddess Restaurant had the most optimistic take on it all: in merging the varied cuisines of the different cultures of New Orleans (Italian, French, Caribbean, African, Vietnamese, etc.) the true identity of Creole cuisine is discovered by marrying local cuisines and cultures into great food.
Next was the presentation of the Ashley Morris Award, and this year’s recipient was Dedra Johnson of the G_Bitch spot blog. An extremely well deserved recipient, she tirelessly writes about the state of the New Orleans public school system. And finally, the exuberant Brass Band panel, hosted by Big Red Cotton discussing the history of and return after Katrina of New Orleans brass bands, closing out another wonderful Rising Tide conference. The TBC Brass band trumpeted another successful year and heralds the continuation and success of an inspiring event. Thanks to all the Rising Tide VI organizers, vendors and participants for making this year another memorable conference!
I’m over it. Now this doesn’t mean I’m going to forget what happened, or that the scars I have and fears I carry will ever disappear. But I’ve learned to live with it, and I’ve moved on, just as the vast majority of New Orleans has. All the morbid documentaries on TV this week are not for us, they are for the rest of America or the world, that wants to wallow in gratuitous disaster porn.
That’s what I said last year for the 5th anniversary of Katrina, and I feel the same way now on the 6th. I’m more interested in living in the present and looking toward the future. I’m running out of things to say about the past. We know what our problems are, and we’re on the path to fixing them with an enthusiasm that didn’t exist here before. The trick now is to keep up the momentum, and never return to the apathy of before.
When I think of anniversaries I think of happy things, not miserable things. So this year, instead of rehashing Katrina I’m thinking of New Orleans’ 300th birthday.
On May 7th, 2018, New Orleans turns 300. Which means we have less than seven years to plan something for the tricentennial. I’ve only noticed a few minor mentions of this subject over the last few years, and I don’t even know if it’s on City Hall’s to-do list yet.
City Park Tricentennial Place Plan
So are any plans in the works for the big day? I turned up one major project that is currently on track to be completed before 2018. City Park seems to constantly be under construction, and there is a reason for that. They are building dozens of new attractions, including the biggie – New Orleans Tricentennial Place. If the plans are any indication, it looks like we’re going to have an impressive metropolitan park.
“The Great Lawn stretches across what has come to be known as Tri-Centennial Place, a regal concept incorporating new parking, an expansion of the Bestoff Sculpture Garden, an amphitheater, a splash park, rock climbing and Peristyle. Although in its infancy, Tri-Centennial Place will be another huge draw for the park. The splash park and amphitheater, viewed as large revenue streams, are included in Phase One of the $24 million Capitol Campaign of the Master Plan .” -New Orleans Magazine, March 2010
The press has only made minor mentions of the tricentennial in the last few years. In 2008, Errol Laborde suggested that we develop the New Orleans Lakefront for our birthday, however, we all know what happens whenever someone wants to make the Lakefront useful. Plus, that means going near the unholy trinity – Louisiana, politics, and real estate. We should avoid it like the Ebola virus. New Orleans is not New York, or San Francisco, or Chicago. The idea that we should build some grand expensive structure, much less develop the entire Lakefront during bad economic times is irresponsible, and something we’re not good at anyway. Building more than a statue or sculpture on the Lakefront might incur some bad juju.
Other suggestions were closer to the mark. In 2009, Richard Campanella (who will be speaking at the Rising Tide Conference this weekend) wrote about his ideas for the upcoming tricentennial. He suggested a more reasonable path in planning a “World’s Fair” type event.
“A tricentennial event might also offer an opportunity to present to the world the recovered and stabilized city we all hope emerges from this post-catastrophe era. The 1884 world’s fair aimed, in part, to demonstrate the city’s rebound after Civil War-era tumult.” -Times Picayune, May 2009
I agree that this would be a good opportunity to show off our recovery, however, I’m not okay with this being a celebration for visitors. We LIVE here. I want to party with my own people – like after Superbowl 2010. Just for one weekend, I want the French Quarter to belong to us. To celebrate US.
We should stick with what we know – and that’s parties. We can get some ideas for this from our colonial sister city, Quebec. They have an annual festival celebrating their founding as part of “New France” called Fêtes de la Nouvelle-France (Louisiana was part of New France too, by the way). Much like our fests they have local music and food, but for this they add a big parade, re-enactments and period costumes, crafts and art, young folks juggling and twirling fire in the street, old folks running a local names genealogy booth – it’s like ren-faire-meets-Mardi-Gras. And even though Quebec is a tourist city like New Orleans, this fest feels very local.
Our version of something like this, Fête de la Nouvelle-Orléans or New Orleans Fest, would be a kick. I mean, this is WHAT WE DO. And we have six years to plan it. We threw an epic internationally covered Superbowl party in under a week. And like that party, our tricentennial bash should be for the people of New Orleans first, the travelers second. They’re welcome of course, but it shouldn’t be designed for them.
In the end, I’d rather see a huge fire-lit Fleur de Lis atop the Superdome with a gritty old blues guitarist playing in the middle of it for a month rather than build some tower on the Lakefront, or put on fair airs for rich foreigners. It’s much cheaper, and definitely more fun. Also, we’ve got a history to envy, so this festival and parade thing should plan itself. Just brainstorm for a minute about what this place has been through in 300 years and you’ll see what I mean (I predict more people will be crammed on the Storyville re-enactment block than the Saints Superbowl Square).
We have so much to celebrate (and reflect on) as a city, and for once, we should not make tourists the priority, but ourselves. Because this is how we’ll keep up the momentum. We have to constantly feed our spirits great moments, or we’ll forget what we’re working for. That euphoric feeling of being where you belong, with those you love, and those who love you, is that reinforcing rush that motivates us to keep improving and to keep going forward.
Originally published at Pistolette.net, August 2011.
Bourbon St after the Saints won Superbowl 2010.
Less than a mile down the road from Fountainbleu State Park toward Mandeville is the Northlake Nature Center , a four-hundred acre park that is absolutely beautiful.
(click on the pictures below to see the full sized version)
This park offers the opportunity to witness four different ecosystems AND a first hand look at an historic example of crooked Louisiana politicians. A recent archaeological survey revealed the Center site as home to ancient peoples more than 500 years ago.
At the end of the initial boardwalk, you will come to an unfinished “hideaway” club house
As stated in the photo below, this exclusive hideaway golf course initially was the idea of Louisiana Governor Leche in the late 1930′s for his political cronies. This governor has the unique distinction of being the first Louisiana governor sentenced to prison.
Leche and several of his political pasls were indicted in what were termed the “Louisiana Scandals”
The hideaway was destroyed by fire in March 2010 and is not accessible. However, hubby and I took a trip into the park before the fire and got some of the following shots.
Beyond this piece of history is lush, serene swampland and forest.
There are several trails to choose from, all of them pretty primitive, so be prepared to watch where you step!
The boardwalk crosses what is purported to be an active beaver pond
But on this day we only spotted friendly turtles
Lots of turtles!
There are several benches along the boardwalks and paths through the woods.
This area seems to be where they hold nature seminars and is probably used for the annual Great Louisiana Birdfest that happens here.
We spotted this cypress at the edge of the pond.
Notice how the lower branches are bent down as a result of Katrina’s winds.
There are several overlooks constructed throughout the park where you can take in all that this little environmental gem has to offer.
These pictures were taken in February of this year, thus the reason that everything looks muted. If August weren’t so darned steamy, I’d love to be out there right now with my camera.
This photo whispers about the circle of life to me. You can see the victims of Katrina being used to nourish the new growth.
Amidst all that gray stood this proud little tree, all decked out in new green leaves.
Throughout the park are bridges which cross Bayou Castine
I’m not an avid hiker, but I managed to walk around the park for several hours and didn’t feel the least bit tired (with the exception of my bursitis, but that’s a sign of my age 
).
If you ever want to get away from it all and just listen to the sounds of the woods and waterways, make your way to the Nothlake Nature Center to unwind.
After 30 years the Space Shuttle Program has ended. I have been lucky enough to be part of this program since 1982, working at the Michoud Assembly Facility (MAF) in New Orleans East. The huge External Fuel Tank (ET) was manufactured here. The ET was the only component of the Shuttle Transportation System that was not reusable.
Last July the employees at Michoud attended the rollout of the last Tank. This is the same tank that was used for the final Shuttle Launch on July 8, 2011. (It is a strange coincedence that the rollout ceremony was July 8, 2010.) In true New Orleans fashion, a second line was held to escort the Tank onto the barge that would transport it to KSC (Kennedy Space Center). Here’s a video of the event.
As I write this and watch the video I feel a lump in my throat. The experience of working at Michoud has been very, very special. I don’t know about other companies, but working at MAF we employees feel like family. I’ve known some people for the “almost 30 years” I’ve worked there. We have grown old together, celebrated each others life milestones: marriage, children, divorce, death, grandchildren, retirement, Katrina (more than 50% of the MAF workforce lost everything from the storm),the Saints as Superbowl Champs and the BP Oilspill (the blowout preventer is still at MAF, under investigation). The number of employees at MAF has decreased to a few hundred from an all time high of about 2,500 in the heyday of the Shuttle Program. Several employees have set up webpages with archived photos of our work and play while at MAF. There is a facebook page for former employees to keep in touch. The end of the Shuttle program means so much more than jobs lost.
At MAF we employees would gather around the closed circuit televisions across the facility and watch each launch that took place during work hours. We knew each milestone in the ascent, marvelling every time the capcom would report on the speed of the bird. We knew that our Tank must work flawlessly for eight minutes before it was jettisoned off the orbiter. And the Tank worked every time! Each employee, no matter what their job was, took pride in our work.
We felt much pain in the losses of Challenger and Columbia. I still cannot look at photographs or videos of those two events. Our technical and production crews worked around the clock after those incidents to make things right. And they did. Space exploration has never been and will never be a flawless endeavour. It is an inherently dangerous science.
We will not cry because it is over, we will rejoice because it happened and we had a part in it!
Happy Independence Day! I’m posting this slap dab in the middle of the 2011 July 4th Weekend and am hoping that the two readers of this post are enjoying themselves. 
We spent our “celebrating America’s Independence” Day in one of my favorite cities, Bay St. Louis, Mississippi.
Located about 40 minutes from our home in Slidell, Bay St. Louis epitomizes the “comeback city”.
On August 29, 2005 Hurricane Katrina made her final landfall at Bay St. Louis. The little town was flattened and it still working on her rebound. In the past six years she’s done well.
click on picture for full size version
My husband and I take pleasure from our trips to Bay St. Louis, especially when we want a fantastic burger. We either go to the Mockingbird Cafe or the Buttercup Restaurant. Both restaurants are on the same street. The joys of small town America.
About four years ago we attended the Crab Festival put on by Our Lady of the Gulf Catholic Church in Bay St.Louis and appreciated the atmosphere, food, music and breezes from the Bay. So we decided to revisit the fest this year and were not disappointed.
While we truly love the French Quarter, PoBoy, Oyster and countless other Festivals in New Orleans, the ambience and down home comfort of a festival away from the Crescent City is a welcome hot weather diversion. The OLG (Our Lady of the Gulf) Fest is well done and small enough allow us park our chairs in a shady spot and take off for a few hours of eating and photography and return to find our chairs still there, unoccupied.
There were more than 50 dishes offered, a good deal of them containing the subject of the Festival.
Here is the food we sampled and savored:
Boiled shrimp (very tasty) and Lake Pontchartrain Crabs (sweet crabmeat)
Fried Catfish with fries, hush puppies and coleslaw
Crabmeat pie and fried softshell crab with cole slaw and seafood smashed potatoes
In between stuffing our faces we took walks and pictures. Our first foray was thru the arts section of Bay St. Louis.
This sweet little courtyard is dedicated to Jean Baptiste Le Moyne, a colonizer in the Gulf Coast region.
Here is a closeup of the plaque in the opening of the courtyard. Apparently Bay St. Louis was originally named Shieldsboro after Thomas Shields, a ship’s purser.
Main Street is the section of town that I love to haunt. It has shops and galleries that beg to be discovered.
This building is one of the few that survived the 30 foot storm surge of Katrina.
One of the tenants of this building, Bay Breeze, rents bikes and kayaks. It also sells home furnishings.
A little watering hole on Main Street by the Bay.
One of the art galleries we visited was Maggie May’s, a purveyor of local art.
I asked the owner if I could take pictures inside and she said as long as it’s not of the artwork. So I took a picture of this nifty glass block window:
There were some very nice pieces and paintings in the gallery which takes up a city block. Plus it has air conditioning, making it a perfect spot if you’re visiting BSL in the summer to take a break from the heat. Attached to the gallery is Lulu, a great little spot to catch a bite to eat. .
Moving across the street we found one of our favorite bread baker Serious Bread. We went inside and got a lovely, crusty loaf of bread and two craisin scones along with a complementary bottle of water from the owner himself! Mr Jensen makes fantastic scones, not dry like most that I’ve sampled.
Fueled up for another leg on our jouney around downtown Bay St. Louis, we carried on and soon discovered the sweetest little community garden which seems to be doing well despite our dry conditions this summer. Here are some pictures of their crops:
This old place is right next to the Mockingbird Restaurant on 2nd Street.
In the garden outside the Mockingbird is this very cool bottle tree.
On the other side of the Mockingbird Cafe is The Shops at Century Hall. Originally built by the Woodmen of the World for fraternal functions, Century Hall now houses an art gallery and many rooms of vintage antiques and one of a kind items. It’s a great place to spend an hour or two.
Here are some of the sights we found interesting:
I found this piece to be rather spooky.
I love this stained glass. Unfortunately, my little tiny house has no room for it.
There is a room devoted to old kitchen tools.
Another room is filled with folk artist and Bay St. Louis resident Alice Moseley’s work, including this video of Alice explaining her art. In another part of BSL you can visit Miss Moseley’s home, which is now a museum.
This plaque depicts the story of BSL’s “angel tree”. The background to the story is here..
Century Hall’s next door neighbor is an ancient cemetery, which I found fascinating.
Doves carved into a tree that died from the saltwater intrusion from The Storm seem to flutter among the graves.
some graves were behind old gates like this one
This angel, most likely carved from a Katrina tree, presides over the small cemetery.
Back at the Crab Fest they were still boiling crabs and shrimp
Ceiling fans and the breeze from the Bay kept it tolerable in the afternoon.
We decided to catch some of the more unique and patriotic outfits at the fest
One of the bands that played early in the day was the 41st National Guard Army Band They rocked.
Toward the late afternoon, we took a walk toward St. Stanislaus College and chilled out on the bench, watching the Bay and the crowds.
Seeing the beach being restored six years after the storm is very heartwarming .
All in all it was a relaxing and enjoyable trip. One that assures us that we will
I moved back to the New Orleans area last July. It’s hard to believe it’s been almost a year already, but the phrase “time flies” doesn’t even begin to describe life over the past year. For my introductory post, I tossed around a few ideas, and came to the conclusion that I should begin at the beginning.
Home.
I lived in Baton Rouge for 10 years. It wasn’t quite as eclectic as New Orleans, but it grew on me. Post-K, my family moved up to Baton Rouge…and then they moved back home a year or so later. I grew really close to my family in that year and they tried to talk me into moving back, but I felt established and independent in my little city. Eventually, my now-husband came along and set me straight! We bought a house in Metairie last year and I fell in love with New Orleans and its surroundings. It was a different kind of love than when I was a kid at a mere 18 years old. I find myself appreciating the rich history and culture that draws in people from all over the world.
Matt Faust. We went to high school together. He was two years ahead of me, and I can’t recall even sharing more than 2 words with him while in high school. Our paths crossed again, though, in my college and post-college years. He spent the year after Katrina creating a short film about his life at home. I was at a friend’s house a few years ago and Matt was telling us about this film that he had finally finished. He grabbed a copy out of his car, popped it in the DVD player and by the end of the five minute (approx) film, I was crying.
A little over a year ago, I picked up the Times Picayune (which I unfortunately only do on rare occasions), and just happened to see Matt’s picture in the paper…with Robert Deniro. Matt had won Best Documentary Short at the Tribeca Film Festival for the short film, now called “home.”
About a month ago, I thought about that night that I saw the clip. I found Matt’s website and immediately purchased “home.” The film shows loss- something most of us can relate to in one way or another. It also speaks to childhood. The film makes me truly appreciate my home for what it was, what it has become, and what it’s destined to be. And that, in some way, makes me happy.
I highly recommend picking up a copy. You can view the trailer of “home” or purchase a copy at www.mattfaust.net.
CheekyCherry
