shokufeh is…home

I’ve spent so much of this past week thinking about this city I love, and the approach of the five-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina hitting land, but now that August 29 is coming to a close, my thoughts and feelings are still in a muddle. It’s too much to put into words. The sadness is still here, and I suspect always will be – thinking about the individual tragedies, many caused by inequities and unprepared and failed systems.  The rain of the past three days has reflected the fullness and overflowing of my emotions.

But the emotion is not limited to sadness. I’m also so very thankful, to be a part of this city, and to have it as a part of me. Even with all of its shortcomings, I love it to my core. Despite this great love, I think if it weren’t for the storm, I wouldn’t have come home 4-1/2 years ago. There are things about life here that frustrate me, and I sometimes focus on all still left to be addressed in the rebuilding effort. But when I think back to the early days of my return and the constant dust clouds and grit in the air (and water) and the lack of people and life, I can see how far we’ve come. I’m grateful to have been here then, and that circumstances led to our still being here.

I love that I live in the “crazy old lady’s house,” five blocks from my parents. I love that I can go to an interfaith service for the five year anniversary and hear about the gospel of Brees. I love that our wall has a cardboard fleur-de-lis custom painted and glittered by MrMan. I love that the deep potholes are marked with palm fronds. I love that, late at night, I can hear ships blowing their horns on the river. I love that even our mediocre food tastes good. This is the place that holds my history.

Five years ago today, I thought New Orleans was virtually untouched. In some of the ways that matter, I was right.

One year later
Two years later
Three years later

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Today was MrMan’s first official day of school. Big kid school. He’s in Pre-K, as his birthday is too late in the year for kindergarten, but I think we’re entering a whole new (and awesome) world. I was thinking about how, like everything else with kids and development, even starting school has been gradual. Friday was orientation – I took him at 9, picked him up at noon, and it involved only half of his classmates (the rest having gone the day before). Today was a half day and school started a smidge later (as it does every Monday), and we experience the carpool line for the first time. I was shocked to find myself tearing up as MrMan stepped out of the car and proudly walked off with a fifth grader. Tomorrow, we will aim for the start of the carpool window at 7:45 am, and still do half day. Wednesday, we start in earnest – school lasts until 3:00, and then he’ll go to aftercare.
I well up at our bounty in his going to this school. It’s so nurturing and beautiful, with hugs and smiles and manners and a gorgeous courtyard and a nice gym and a sit-down dining room and a principal who welcomes pre-kindergarteners to his office (and a dog under the desk, I’ve been told) and a school-wide flu clinic scheduled next month (! – oh the things that appeal to me)…. I’m so excited to be embarking on this adventure with MrMan and feel so fortunate that he’s launching off in this way.
Tomorrow, we say goodbye to his daycare of the past almost-three years, as it will be the last afternoon I’ll have to take advantage of his teachers’ understanding in my dropping him off during naptime.

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For months, MrMan, at random moments will share, “I don’t want to be a man.”

We try to reassure him that manhood is in the distant future and that he should focus on the present. He does seem to enjoy being a boy, but I can’t figure out what seems so unappealing about being a man.  I guess I should ask, next time it comes up.

Yesterday, he crafted a solution in that noggin of his.  He and I were on the shuttle bus, almost to the gym*.  He suddenly shifted from greeting the approaching gym, to his common refrain of, “I don’t want to be a man.” Which he then followed with, “When I turn five, I want to drink caffeine, so I can stop growing.”

I’m glad you’ve been paying attention, MrMan, but I regret to inform you that, 1) I will not give you caffeine, and 2) I’ve exaggerated its effects. Nice try!

*My new trick to get myself there is to get MrMan after work and get us on the shuttle bus, straight to the gym. I’m accountable to MrMan, who enjoys the babysitting services there, and I’ve already committed to meeting Sam at the gym instead of at work.

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Bullets are better than nothing, right?

• I love a seersucker suit. Seeing three men walking on a downtown street in varying hues of this summer classic almost make me cry in love for this city and the south.
• I am on the verge of buying a fanny hip pack. The appeal of hands-free-carrying of essentials, even on days when I lack pockets, is alluring. I think it’s the logical next trend if we combine the trends of the 80s and minimalism.
• I’m over this idea of blaming corporations without facing up to the fact that we all have had a role to play in their financial success and unethical practices.
• The stench in the air is concerning. Sometimes it smells like a big barbecue about to happen (petroleum). Sometimes it smells like urine or perfume (I assume it’s dispersant). Either way I find it hard not to cry about the loss of our natural bounties, like wetlands and seafood, and worry about our future – as a family, as a city and state, as a humanity constantly being reminded that we can’t keep treating each other and the planet with no regard for the repercussions.
• I’m so jealous of Anis, leaving for South Africa on Sunday.

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O ye beloved of God! When the winds blow severely, rains fall fiercely, the lightning flashes, the thunder roars, the bolt descends and storms of trial become severe, grieve not; for after this storm, verily, the divine spring will arrive, the hills and fields will become verdant, the expanses of grain will joyfully wave, the earth will become covered with blossoms, the trees will be clothed with green garments and adorned with blossoms and fruits. Thus blessings become manifest in all countries. These favors are results of those storms and hurricanes. (‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Bahá’í World Faith, p395)

Thanks for this, Delara!

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After a few months away from the pool, we’ve resumed swimming lessons. With the last session, I had the start date wrong in my head and neglected to sign MrMan up. Which turned out to be okay, as both Sam and I were not in positions to be getting him there in timely fashion.  Had I thought through it more, I might not have signed up MrMan for this session either. It coincides with the fast, we’ll miss the last day of it due to travel, the weather requires that it’s still in the inside pool….

I’m so glad I didn’t think it through further, and just went ahead and signed him up.  He’s so happy to be in the pool and his swimming is getting much better.  Our new routine (because of the location of Sam’s new job) involves me picking up MrMan an hour before normal and taking the shuttle bus with him to the uptown campus. He loves it! And I enjoy the time, as brief as it is (as distances are quick in New Orleans), just sitting next to him, watching his delight as we drive past everything from a higher perspective. Last week even involved a “Whee!” from him as we went up the overpass.

Because of the shuttle schedule, we get to the gym well ahead of class time, allowing a leisurely wardrobe change for Mrman. It’s nice not to feel rushed. Except by MrMan’s enthusiasm, as we wait at the pool and he wonders aloud where his teacher and swim friends are. They finally arrive.  Then the dude puts on his goggles and swaggers to the side of the pool. I love it!  He points his arms above his head and kicks through the water, and delights in swimming toward the bottom. He doesn’t always touch the bottom with his hands, as he’s so buoyant, but the fact that he wants to makes me so happy that I just went with signing up for this session, instead of analyzing whether it would be convenient.

I think this summer should include some time at the beach, so that he may become not just pool type, but ocean type. (A reference to a dear friend from our time in Honolulu, who described himself as such.)

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For real, Shokufeh? Almost two months? That would explain so much about so much – my mental state, my fatigue, my aches and pains. I should have written it out of me. The last two months have been filled with grant-writing, MrMan-school-applying, future-pondering. But it hasn’t all been bad. There’s also been Super-Bowl-ing, Mardi-Gras-ing, and future-pondering. Now we’re on the other side of all of that. Except the future-pondering. Which tends to be one of my characterizing traits.

Now I’m in my second day of the fast. Which I always want to write as the Fast, because it’s so much more than abstaining from food and drink. It’s reconnecting with my essential self. Or at least trying to. And striving to be a better version of me when I go to bed at night than when I woke up in the (way too early for my normal self) morning.

Randomness of the week: Monday afternoon, we pulled up in front of our house, in the pouring. rain. Pouring. I look out the car window and realize our grass has been cut. It had been looking ragged, but I wasn’t that worried, because most everybody’s does this time of year. The green grass just started poking out a couple of weeks ago, so I was thinking we’d cut the grass this coming weekend. But there it was – cut, and edged. Through the rain, I could see a sign stuck into the grass. Or maybe I should call it lawn, since it was suddenly looking much nicer. The sign read Y@rd D@wgs: M@rking our terr!tory, one y@rd at a time. So the mystery has been solved as to who cut it. Still a mystery: who paid for it?

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I was psyched to go the gym this morning. It’s not a regular part of my routine, but I’d like it to be.  So I really believed it was going to happen. Went to bed on the early side, set my alarm for early (but not super early, as that would be setting myself up for failure), put my exercise clothes in the bathroom for easy access, focused on the idea that I would be getting out of bed before my usual time. I figured I would hop up, get ready, out the door, quick drive to the gym, quick jaunt on the eliptical (I even had my earbuds so I could watch tv), quick drive back home, get ready for work, out the door with everyone else.

I thought the weather might be an issue. It’s been cold of late. Not just New Orleans cold (anything under 65 F qualifies), but normal cold. Hard freeze cold. And sure, Iwanted to snuggle down in bed, but I was at the car by 6:15. Faced with a car with iced over windows. And no ice scraper (see: definition of New Orleans cold). I put on my determined-not-to-be-deterred face and started the car. Looked around for some other means of cleaning off the windows. Newspaper doesn’t cut it apparently.

Which is why I’m typing about my gym plans rather than living them. Tomorrow morning promises to be warmer. And if the car is iced again, maybe I should plan on getting my workout in the form of rubbing down the car with newspaper.

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It really says something about the universality of Bahá’u'lláh’s words that they’re being used in a United Way public service announcement of season’s greetings.  And let’s face it, at this time of year, set to this music, Season’s Greetings = Merry Christmas. It does make sense, though, to use the words of one Manifestation of God to celebrate the birth of Another.  All part of God’s everlasting Covenant.

This PSA, along with my morning thoughts (about my love of Mardi Gras) could trigger enough thoughts and feelings in me to circumvent my annual grinch-iness.

The utterance of God is a lamp, whose light is these words: Ye are the fruits of one tree, and the leaves of one branch. Deal ye one with another with the utmost love and harmony, with friendliness and fellowship. He Who is the Day Star of Truth beareth Me witness! So powerful is the light of unity that it can illuminate the whole earth. The one true God, He Who knoweth all things, Himself testifieth to the truth of these words.

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Apparently, I’ve been in a tizzy for the past two-plus months.  I knew I was stressed, but didn’t realize how much so until the weight of it was lifted.  In the past few days, Sam’s been offered  and accepted a job. Which led to us being able to say we’re going to stay in our apartment.  Suddenly, I can breath easier. I don’t get a tightness in my chest wondering about what comes after December 31, and how well we’ll adjust to living in my parents’ home again (and how well they’ll adjust).  I don’t have to think about acquiring boxes and filling them. So far, I’d reached a grand total of one box, packed and labeled (though not yet taped).  I’m still trying to continue the purging, though. We just don’t need all this stuff.
Bonus: Sam’s new job is in the same building as his current one, and will start right after his current one ends, so there will be no disruption to routine. Except that it won’t be accompanied by the stress we’ve been under for the past nine weeks.

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