New Orleans: Sunday through Wednesday

On the porch at the Breaux House

The Alternative Spring Break Trip. Half a month ago. I apologize to anyone who has been waiting for this. So, sorry, Mom. Anyway, this week was mostly spent volunteering at an inner city school in the oldest African American neighborhood in the country and at the Habitat Restore, a warehouse that sells used building materials. The recovery work directly and indirectly related to Hurricane Katrina, the August 2005 storm that devastated the area and is still leaving its mark to this day. The trip went from Sunday, March 8th to Saturday, March 14th.

Sunday:

Our flight was supposed to leave Albany at 5:30 or so. Yeah, not so much. It was going to O'Hare Airport in Chicago, which was apparently experiencing a small Armageddon at the time, so we were delayed by three hours. There was a concern that we would miss our connecting flight, which would strand us there until 9:15 the next evening and cause us to miss our first day of work entirely. Some members of our 14 person group wanted this to happen so that we could be on the news as those people sleeping in the airport. Fortunately, we made it to Chicago with about 10 minutes to catch our flight to New Orleans...in O'Hare Airport. This could be rough, if, that is, our gate wasn't RIGHT next to the one we had just landed at.

We arrived in New Orleans at about...um..late. I don't remember when. Just late. We went straight from the airport to our bed and breakfast via taxi and met briefly with Brett, our host. As soon as we could, we all went straight to bed. On the way, we realized that in my room, there was an amazing view of the city from our bathroom window. 

Monday:

We delayed the start of work for our first day after the travel drama we had experienced the day before. The food that we had requested was not all there, so we substituted other items and instead of following the list that we had checked off earlier, basically just grabbed whatever was available. Then we played with Brett's animals for a bit, while some of the girls fell in love with his infant son. Okay okay, everyone fell in love with his infant son. Oh, and we soaked up a bit of sunshine and 80 degree weather, which was an almost absurd change from Albany. (Fun fact: the northeast had a snow storm this day. It was delightful to give weather reports to the people back home.)

When we left for work around 11, we went to the school we were to spend most of the week at: McDonogh 42 Charter Elementary School. The person who was directing our work from Relief Spark (the organization that we worked with), Sydney, brought us in and gave us some almost tasks before going with our chaperones to pick up vans and supplies. Sydney had a scary little baby named Esteban (his father is Spanish...) who screamed basically the entire ride. I'm afraid of babies. That was wonderful.

Shortly after we began painting, a couple of students and I poked our head into the lunch room and began talking to the cafeteria ladies. They invited us in and served us food. Their generosity and friendliness was something that we were able to get used to for that week. Even in this rather poor area, the kids, teachers and staff members like this were impossible generous and giving to us.

Another group from Temple University was working at the school as well. They weren't the friendliest, but were only with us that one day. Overall, there wasn't much organization that day and we wound up figuring out our own tasks, which included picking up trash in the school yard and tutoring kids. That may have been the best part: tutoring fifth graders. After work, we had a bit of a venting session before eating delicious food, going on a supply run to WalMart and then to the French Quarter, where we began a weeklong tour of souvenir shops (more about this later).

Tuesday:

This felt like a much more productive day, though it began with the threat of being much more idle than the day before. We worked at the Habitat Restore that day, something the Habitat Restore was apparently unaware of at the beginning. Another school was working there all week so they were not sure if there would be enough work for us. This proved not to be the case at all. We swept, organized materials and painted the entryway and columns throughout the store. It was a great day there. The store does good work. When a house is deconstructed, materials are often donated to the Restore. Then they are sold for almost nothing. In any city, this is a blessing, but especially in a place that is still recovering from Katrina. I don't really remember what we did after work. It's the only night that is really blank, but I don't remember going out or anything. Maybe that was the night that we saw Bourbon Street.

Wednesday:

On this day, the work got hard. This was the day we began gutting a house on school grounds that they were interested in turning into a community center. We had to wait until later in the morning to begin because we had to wait for Sydney to arrive with release forms. I'm guessing that Esteban made a peep on the way, so she had to pull over and breastfeed him for an hour or so. Sorry, nothing against Sydney, she was a very sweet person, just a bit strange. 

So after we signed the legal documents and Sydney explained that if anything happened to us, we were basically screwed, we began gutting. First we moved everything that could be saved to part of the house, and filled a trash barrel with other things. One of those things was a teddy bear. That might have been the moment where it all hit home with me. To see a teddy bear sitting on at the top of a trash can of a house being gutted is simply heartbreaking.

After we did that, we worked on the kitchen cabinets and taking out fixtures in general. Then came the fun part. Taking crowbars and hammers to plaster walls with slatboards underneath. If you ever have an excess amount of aggression, this is how you should deal with it. But uh, make sure that the house you're gutting isn't occupied at the time. Just a thought.

That night, we toured Saint Bernard's Parish, one of the hardest-hit areas. We stopped on one street where the group had worked in a previous year, to see the houses they had worked on finished or nearly finished. One very nice woman invited us into a house they had worked on, telling us about buying another house from her elderly neighbor, which she planned to fix and rent to her. (The neighbor passed away soon after, but the gesture was uplifting nonetheless.) After we left her gorgeous and completely finished home, we drove to another neighborhood where some impromptu assistance was given in prior years to some absolutely wonderful people. Those who were there in previous years got to visit those they helped, which was a great thing. We were really tired though, and between that and not having the connection (but at least seeing it), the trip seemed to just keep going. We got home rather late, and there was, to sugar coat the story, tons of confusion with the restaurant. All in all, a good day turned into a very tiring night.

To be continued...because this took all weekend to write (I had little free time) and it's 1:30 AM on Monday.

Delay

So I haven't had time or energy to post my blog about New Orleans. Maybe next weekend I'll get to it. I refuse to apologize as I'm so tired that I'm constantly fighting sickness. The same story applies to my photos from the trip.

In the meantime, however, I will summarize it by saying that it was an incredible experience that will probably affect me greatly for years. I fell in love with New Orleans and the children of McDonogh 42 Elementary School, where we spent most of the week. Three of the days I spent gutting a house on school grounds, which was one of the most exhausting experiences of my life. My hands literally hurt for days afterward (and I have strong hands). That's all for now about the trip. It was great, New Orleans is amazing, we got home safe. That's all you really need to know. Details will follow when I wake up.

Meanwhile, here are some lyrics by Brett Dennen to an amazing song that follows this same theme. If you're not familiar with Brett Dennen, you're missing out.

I Asked When:

Well, I dreamed I went out a'wanderin'

I heard promises become fables forgotten

I saw bridges stretching out across the water

And towers pushing taller

I knew my reality was clearly defined

By the fenced put up around my mind

I watched them thicken into walls over time

Taller than any border line

I saw civilizations deemed insignificant

I saw people's history tattooed on their skin

I saw families taken from their land

Dynasties shattered and stolen

And I asked when... is the revolution

In all the burdens of centuries accrued

That get passed along to every generation's youth

And all the allegories told in lieu of truth

I watched them grow wild and spread like the flu

I saw the rise of an untamed industry

I watched machines paint a paper economy

I saw my own self stand right in front of me

And I didn't do a thing

I saw poisons pushed in the street

And prescription pills mingling in the mezzanine

With a whole host of wealth, of doctors and pharmaceutical companies

Still poor people were dying from disease

And I asked when... is the revolution

And I broke down at the break of dawn

I saw new meaning in the clouds above the Pentagon

As real as the Holocaust, as strong as the Parthenon

Visions of Sudan, Iraq and Vietnam

I stood silent upon a flooded levy

And stared at the ruins of a merchant city

And the president who came to dine with the noble elite

Didn't do a thing

I saw three ships come sailing in

Through the passage of the Caribbean 

I saw children coming home in coffins

Millions marching on Washington

And I asked when......is the revolution

I have to pee.

I also have to pack. And clean. And do some research for my annotated bibliography in Music History. And get ready for New Orleans. I am doing none of this. I am, however, forgetting the formatting stuff on this blog and putting in double-spaces after every period. Shit.

Also, and I am having this discussion on Facebook at the moment, flying is scary. I seem to do it at least once a year, but I will never get used to it. Sometimes, when the plane takes off, I cry. Last year, I got wasted before flying to Milwaukee for a rather disappointing National MENC conference. I don't think they should have let me get on the plane. It didn't even help: I still cried. I think even harder.

I was going to go to a protest yesterday morning downtown. The Westboro Baptist Church (the God Hates Fags people, godhatesfags.com) came to Albany. It didn't work out because I couldn't get out of bed at all, so I had coffee at the Muddy Cup with my friend, John, instead. Then yesterday afternoon I finally made it home, after hours of delay and almost falling asleep at the wheel. My friend Nancy's dear friend and co-worker, Shelly, a wonderful Isreali woman, is leaving for her permanent home in Montreal (she winters in Vermont), and last night was my last chance to hang out with her before she left. Needless to say, it wasn't a very difficult decision. So we had party favors, then ate at the Chinese place in Dover and shared saki and scorpion bowls. 

Okay I've delayed long enough. I have to get ready. Hopefully I can post from New Orleans. Either way, I'm going to open a Photo Bucket account when I return and post all of my pictures from the trip there. 

Peace!

Break...

I need it. Holy crap I'm freaking out all the time. Quitting this crap has never seemed so necessary. I can't even sight sing anymore, and I've always rocked at that!! This week I had a concert on Monday and Thursday, plus playing in Rep class on Wednesday. Yesterday I had an Ear Training quiz, a Music History exam, an Orchestration assignment due and a Wind Ensemble concert. So yeah, not being at Saint Rose for a week will be amazing right now.

The problem is, as much as I really want to do this, I'll be in New Orleans through all of break, so I'll have almost no chance to do all the stuff I have to. Nor will I be able to practice. I'll have my mouthpiece to buzz on, but I have to play Convocation the Friday after we come back. I get back next Saturday. That same night I have a rehearsal for my brass quintet. The next day is a brass workshop, then a clinic, then a concert with the orchestra at SUNY, during which I'll be sight reading about half of the pieces. But I really think all this will be worth it.

I'm starting a running list of the movies that my boss needs to see. Since I would lose the paper I wrote it on, I'm just going to put it here:

Across the Universe
School of Rock

I think that's all. Tonight I'm being stupid and going home to hang out with Nancy and possibly the girls and definitely her amazing Israeli friend who makes you feel awesome. I should be doing all the work I can't do over break though. We'll see how that goes.

Until next time, peace.