Author: Gil

Posted on

Don’t Go Back to Rockville

I’ve been reflecting on Proust for the last few days. Here’s a passage about going home again:

Poets claim that we recapture for a moment the self that we were long ago when we enter some house or garden in which we used to live in our youth. But there are most hazardous pilgrimages, which end as often in disappointment as in success. It is in ourselves that we should rather seek to find those fixed places, contemporaneous with different years. And great fatigue followed by a good night’s rest can to a certain extent help us to do so. For in order to make us descend into the most subterranean galleries of sleep, where no reflexion from overnight, no gleam of memory comes to light up the interior monologue — if the latter does not itself cease — fatigue followed by rest will so thoroughly turn over the soil and penetrate the bedrock of our bodies that we discover down there, where our muscles plunge and twist in their ramification and breathe in new life, the garden where we played in our childhood. There is no need to travel in order to see it again; we must dig down inwardly to discover it. What once covered the earth is no longer above but beneath it; a mere excursion does not suffice for a visit to the dead city: excavation is necessary also. But we shall see how certain fugitive and fortuitous impressions carry us back even more effectively to the past, with a more delicate precision, with a more light-winged, more immaterial, more headlong, more unerring, more immortal flight, than these organic dislocations.

Posted on

Present Day

Made it home safe and sound yesterday afternoon, but the final approach was a bit shaky. By which I mean, the plane was wobbling from side to side for the last 10 minutes before we touched down. I pounded a G&T at the terminal bar to steady the old nerves, then Amy & I headed over to baggage claim.

The Christmas-day exchange of presents was kinda funny. Amy told her parents that they could shop for me off my Amazon wish list, but I think they misunderstood her and bought nearly everything off my wish list. When they first checked out my list (and hers), they told her, “But you guys only have books and CDs on your list!”

Not anymore! It became a running joke on Sunday afternoon, as I opened package of books after package of books:

Virginia Postrel’s The Future and Its Enemies and The Substance of Style

Paco Underhill’s Call of the Mall and Why We Buy

Jane Jacobs’ The Death and Life of Great American Cities

Robert Caro’s biography of Robert Moses, The Power Broker

Robert Bruegmann’s Sprawl: A Compact History

Collections of essays from Emerson and Orwell

Robert Strassler’s Landmark Thucydides: A Comprehensive Guide to the Peloponnesian War, for when I feel like redelving into that subject.

Her father said, “That oughtta keep you occupied for a week or so.”

Now, I was mighty appreciative of all the books (on top of the aforementioned copy of Black Hole), as well as the 5-quart stand mixer, but the problem arose the next day, as we began packing. We started to consider shipping all the books home (including the stuff I bought at Faulker House, and the Sam Cooke bio I just finished, and the copy of Little, Big that I brought down, as well as the multiple books that Amy received), before a severe redistribution of clothes, toiletries, etc., enabled us to get all the books into our one suitcase. Fortunately, Amy’s clothes don’t take up too much space. All I brought with me on the flight was The Future and Its Enemies and the Jane Jacobs book.

At the terminal yesterday morning, we discovered that the suitcase weighed more than 60 lbs., which should’ve led to a $25 overweight charge. Fortunately, they waived the fee because of my Elite status on Continental. Then we were allowed to cut into the security line, right in front of some crippled kids and nuns. Yay!

On Monday, we returned to the French Quarter, got more beignets at Cafe Du Monde, and walked around for a while. Plenty of people were out walking; nowhere near pre-Katrina numbers, but it was still heartening to see so many people vacationing there.

That led us to wonder about who’s choosing to go. Were they people who’d booked their trips pre-Katrina, or did they decide to go after, to boost the economy (and find cheap deals)? We should’ve asked, but we’re morons, so hey.

Instead, we bought cheap T-shirts at a souvenir shop! We picked up a couple of “I (Heart) NO” shirts, a NOPD (Not Our Problem Dude) shirt and a great one that read “I Stayed in New Orleans for Katrina and all I got was This Lousy T-Shirt, a New Cadillac and a Plasma TV.” How could we resist? If you heard some of the stories about how people are spending their FEMA money, you’d blanch.

And that’s about all I have to report on. The Quarter looks like it’s doing okay, but I can’t say anything about the rest of the city. I still don’t know how they’ll manage to get people to move back, and how they can jump start any industry besides tourism in NO,LA. Amy & I entertained some idle thoughts about what it would take for us to move down there, but were stumped as to what sort of city it could possibly become.

Maybe some of the books on my new reading list will help me answer that question.

(Update: Witold Rybczynski at Slate just posted a piece about this subject)

Posted on

Ho-ho!

Happy Chanukkah and Merry Christmas, dear readers! Sorry I didn’t post anything since before our French Quarter trip, but we’ve been pretty busy, and I don’t like writing on the WinXP machine that Amy’s parents own. I tried setting up a wifi network here with a wireless router from CompUSA, but their machine wouldn’t even start correctly when the thing was plugged in, so I gave up. Thanks, Mr. Gates!

As it turns out, one of the neighbors has a wifi network set up, which shocks me to no end. Since the neighbor would likely be just as shocked to find out that another person in the neighborhood is wifi-capable, he or she didn’t bother putting a password onto the network.

We spent last night visiting several of Amy’s relatives, then went to a family Christmas party. Unbeknownst to me, there was some sorta NBA draft lottery set up beforehand, and we’d all drawn names of other family members to a buy a present for.

Fortunately, Amy took care of my responsibilities on that one, but I was awfully puzzled when her aunt came up to me and thanked me for the gift.

What did I get, dear reader? Well, my Amazon wish list served up some interesting choices. In this case, Amy’s dad bought me a copy of Charles Burns’ Black Hole book. While it’s an amazing comic, I’m really hoping that none of the family flipped through it before wrapping it for me.

Before the party, as I mentioned, we visited some family members to exchange presents. I met one of them last March, when she was waiting for a diagnosis for a condition that turned out to be ALS. We hit it off last spring because she’s a big fan of the Hornets, and I can talk NBA with just about anyone.

She was pretty optimistic about the team’s chances this year, contending that a couple of trades and a high draft pick would bring the team on the road to respectability. On the way out of her house that evening, I said to Amy, “With all due respect, she’s going to get better before that misbegotten team does.”

Turns out she was right, and I was unfortunately wrong. The Hornets have been better than expected this season. Not playoff-worthy, but winning a fair share of games.

On the other hand, Joyce has deteriorated pretty badly, and now uses a keyboard-driven speech-box.

Her condition (and the team’s relocation to Oklahoma City) hasn’t stopped her from watching the squad, and we started “talking” about the team last night. Amy ventured the question, “Are you still waching the Hornets?” and Joyce spent a few moments keying away on the box with her stylus before, “THEY HAD A BIG LEAD LAST NIGHT BUT LOST TO THE BUCKS” came out.

“I saw the final score, but didn’t know they had a lead,” I told her.

“THEY PLAYED AGAINST BIG CAT LAST NIGHT.”

“Yeah, the Times-Pic played up the Mason-Magloire trade,” I said, smiling.

“THAT TRADE WAS DUMB.”

I mean, this woman’s trapped in a deteriorating body by this disease. She just asked us to turn off the Home Shopping Network’s cooking show because “IT MAKES ME WISH FOR FOOD.”

But here she is, conversing with me like we’re a couple of NBA lifers. Amy’s dad told me that she “shouts” at the TV during games still. We joked that there needs to be shortcut keys for “DEFENSE” and “REBOUND”.

Anyway, it’s time for yet more eating, here in Cajun country. Have a fun holiday, everybody.

Posted on

New Orleans: Proud to Swim Home

Here we are in New Orleans! While the official VM fiancee was getting her test-run on hair and makeup, the official VM father-in-law-to-be & I took the official VM nephew-to-be to Lakeside Mall to pass the time. While there, we saw “Katrina Ridge,” a holiday train-set display based on post-Katrina New Orleans.

The little houses had blue tarps on their roofs. Some had little trees smashing them. Tiny graffitoed refrigerators were in litter-strewn front yards. Military Hummers and police cars were parked next to the train tracks, while the trains carried construction equipment and planks of wood. A toy helicopter circled above the set, two or three evacuees dangling from it by a string.

According to the sign beside the display, there was a community uproar over the display, so the mall had it dismantled.

Then there was a community uproar over the dismantling, so the mall decided to put it back up on display. The mall included a cross section of e-mails that they received. It seemed that a lot of people who had to swim out of the city were tougher than they were sensitive. I’m glad the mall restored the display.

I took about 10 million pix of the display, which I’ll post at my flickr site as soon as I’m home. (Here they are!)

After womenfolk rejoined us, we headed into New Orleans so we could meet with the rep from the venue where we’re getting married. We got to the French Quarter early, so we walked for a little bit.

There were plenty more people around this time than during our visit in October. The street-vendors have started to return to Jackson Square, and more street musicians were playing their tunes. I asked the parents-in-law-to-be if they’d mind if we checked out Faulkner House Books, the used bookstore in Pirate’s Alley (arr!). There was no sign of its existence last time we were here, but I was very gratified to find that it’s open and perfectly fine now.

Walking to the alley, I told Amy that I’d buy a copy of Confederacy of Dunces if the store had reopened. I asked the proprietor how they were affected by the storm. He said that the store wasn’t damaged, but that there wasn’t exactly any business around, so they closed for almost two months.

I ended up picking up two more books that I could’ve bought a lot more cheaply on Amazon, but I figure these guys deserve my business.

We had our meetup about the wedding arrangements, which went well. There are a couple of things I’ve procrastinated on, but we only have about 11 weeks left, so I’ve gotta get a move on.

The parking lot next to the venue was filled with federal vehicles and tents, just like in October. I was a little worried that the lot might not be available when we’re having the wedding, so I asked the manager of the venue what the story is.

“Well,” she said, “the feds said they were going to be out by Dec. 15. But about a week before that, I noticed they were putting Christmas decorations up around their tents. So the current story is that they’ll be out by January 15.”

After the meeting, we (Amy & I & the parents-in-law-to-be) headed to Café Du Monde for coffee and beignets. The place was packed, and it was just beautiful. I mean, Du Monde was still closed when we came in October, and there are so many things that I’m afraid will never come back, so I was ecstatic to see a café full of people, chattering away.

UPDATE:

Pictures from Katrina Ridge

Pictures from the French Quarter

Posted on

Lebanon, Louisiana

Made it into Louisiana safe and sound this morning, but only because of an insanely lucky bit of timing when I got to the baggage check-in line. I managed to read a good amount of that Sam Cooke biography I’ve been procrastinating on.

Amy’s parents met us at the airport, and took us out for an early lunch. In keeping with my tradition of eating incongruous foods, they proposed that we go to a Lebanese place they like. So I re-upped with the Schawarma Police and chowed down.

Once we got in the door, I collapsed into a great three-hour nap. I had zero idea where I was when I woke up, which is a good indicator of just how tired I was.

My immediate impression is that things have improved a bunch in the 2 months since we last visited. We’ll be going to the French Quarter tomorrow, along with other areas of the city, so I oughtta have a clearer impression of things.