Carrie's memories

Carrie's service was awesome. As befits her. There was this amazing slide show of her life that played in the background before we got started (most of us couldn't watch much without loads of tears - but Joannie who thinks of everything put tissue on all the tables) (and somebody else scattered 4-leaf clovers all over, representing 4H that Carrie was so into).

There were a good 300 people there - 200 seated and another 100 standing in the back. Henry (Carrie's sister Sarah's husband) played pipes (they're like bagpipes, but no blowing) and he's amazing. People spoke about Carrie and we all lost it. Even the kids that were sitting in front were amazingly well behaved (except Erik, who got dragged out by a stranger! - I didn't notice but his mom did). I think that Kodiak puts something in the water to make the kids so nice and helpful and well-behaved.

Here's Rachel (Carrie's youngest sister) and me and Sarah "Bird" (one of Carrie's dearest friends; she lives in Juneau now).

I know I have issues, but I look at Rachel and am so amazed that her oldest child is 11. I still see Rachel as 11, about how old she was when I met her. Don't get me wrong - she's a very responsible, mature adult whom I have tremendous respect for - but if she's really in her 30's, that makes me old (and no, Tiffany - you and Rick look exactly the same as 7 years ago!). It doesn't help that she's married to Todd, whom I will eternally see as 11; though I think he's a fabulous adult and had a great time with him on this trip, I picture his goofy grin when he used to come over and visit with my brother when they were little. They still live in Sitka, though they might move for his construction business. (Which will apparently pass on to Tyler. As they drove me past a building site of some sort, Tyler said, "A normal person, they look and they see a pile of dirt. A construction man, he looks at that and sees cash." Todd was so darn proud.)

John said that every Sitkan has a smiley happy face stamped on their foreheads. Can you see it on us? I laughed at him, but there's something to it - we are all nice people. Things have really, really changed in Sitka now - and not for the better (damn rich people invaded) - but we all still carry the impressions of better times. We'll always be Sitka girls, even when we don't live there.

Here's Lisa (another of Carrie's dear friends, we were all high school friends; she lives in Bush Alaska with her teacher husband) and Sue (Carrie's mom, still in Sitka) and me and Sarah (Carrie's sister, lives in Juneau with teacher husband). I wish we'd gotten Carl in the picture too, but he was photographing.

The thing that always struck me about the Burgesons was how darn nice they were to each other and how well they got along. What's really fun to see how is how that has extended out to embrace the three son-in-laws and the 5 grandchildren. They are so loving with each other, it's awesome.

Here is Erik Gunnar, the orange boy here. He is very, very lively and he kept me in stitches. He's only 4, but he has such sense of self - introducing himself to strangers and running around. John kept giving all the kids sugar which Sarah promptly would take away, but I have the feeling that Erik is ALWAYS so animated. Wish I'd taken pics of all the kids.
Here's me and John (Carrie's husband) and Sarah and Henry, her husband (a teacher in Juneau, Erik's parents). We totally invaded John's space and we all felt completely at home.
Here's Mary, the daughter where I stayed, with a delicious torte she made for the potluck after Carrie's service. And at the service she was incredibly helpful and really made things happen - like her mother and all the other Powerful Women. I'm used to always being somebody who jumps in and helps, but I got to really just sit back and let them take care of EVERYTHING. It was so special, how much they loved Carrie and how it overflowed onto all of us.
Here's about half the food brought for the service. It was INCREDIBLE. I just kept watching more and more food arrive - I've never been at a potluck anything like this. And all the food was so yum. I've always known food = love, but it was really shown in how people rose to the occasion. In the background is Robin, whose house I stayed at with her generous hospitality, and Joannie, who is a chief Powerful Woman (as John calls them). She entertained 40 of us at her house to give us the chance to hang out in a nice environment, and when she asked if I wanted anything to drink I started to get up to get water and she pushed me right back onto my chair with a death grip. I think of myself as a pretty Powerful Woman, but I wouldn't mess with Joannie when she's in the zone. :)
Here's the view from the deck of Robin and Dave's house. It was bitter cold there, even did some rain-snow mix. The temp jumped 55 degrees for me - it's 88 here in New Orleans, which was brutal to step out to.

Dave said, when they were building the house, that he was going to build a deck where the sun always shone. And so he did. :)

This was a very, very sad trip but I'm glad I made it - it was really great to see everybody, though I never lost the feeling that somebody was missing. Everything went off without a hitch (even -I left my phone charger at Robin and Dave's and I was stressed about having to go straight to Target from the airport at rush hour, but in Minneapolis I walked past a shop that had exactly what I need for less than I expected to pay), and now I'll dig into studying.

I even got about 2 hours of sleep last night/this morning (from Anchorage to Sitka I had a whole row to myself so stretched out and slept soundly), which added to the 5 hours the night before and the 4.5 the night before that and the 4.5 the night before that .... I'm only 16 hours sleep deficient. Which will start catching up tonight - hopefully I can sleep! And I did get quite a bit of studying done. I'm still utterly unprepared for my exams, but I'm certain that I made the right choice to go, if it brought any level of comfort to anybody. And for me, the closure is good.

I will always miss Carrie. Even though we haven't been in close contact lately, I always thought she'd be there to visit again someday and that we'd just pick up where we left off.

Sue - photo link

Sue, here's the link to the photo I found and published before: http://www.hss.state.ak.us/dsds/fy02annualreport/mhta02.html

pics of Holts

Tiff and Rick and me on their very comfy couch ("Erin's couch"). The lattice in the background supports the bottom part of their yurt.

Yeah, most Alaskans make fires in the morning while in their shorts. JK. It was nice to have a roaring fire to look at even if it was really warm enough to not have to bother. Their woodstove is this beautiful soapstone that slowly warms up and then radiates heat after the fire goes out, and the pot on top is for water to rehumidify the yurt when the fire heat dries out the air.
Rohnan and Keegan in their loft. The beams behind them are what hold up the yurt - going from the top of the lattice up to the skylight.

Tiff in a familiar pose - with her coffee mug. :)

Carrie's amazing Kodiak community

I am amazed and humbled and awed by Carrie's Kodiak community. I have never seen anything like this.

I flew in yesterday and nobody was at the airport, so I hung out and studied and got myself together until the next flight from Anchorage came in, and then I realized nobody was coming. So I called Sarah Bird but she didn't have her cell on. Fortunately she had given me Natasha's number (Carrie's best friend).

Sue, Carrie's mom, had found my blog and read the post about not being sure I was coming, so assumed I wasn't coming and had told Natasha and others, so they thought I'd cancelled. But Natasha said, "Let me make a couple quick phone calls and I'll be there in a few minutes." She did and she was.

She took me to Carrie's house, where I got to see all her family family. We caught up (and Sue asked me all sorts of blog-related questions, leading to quite some embarrassment as I frantically tried to remember what on earth I'd written about lately). And it is so very strange to me to see Todd, Carrie's sister Rachel's husband, all grown up. I've known Todd since he was very young as he was friends with my brother, and have some embarrassing stories on him as well, and now he has a son who is 11 years old and he looks so much like his dad. Tyler is awesomely sweet. I was always so impressed with how everybody in Carrie's family gets along, and it's touching to see how that has extended to the brothers-in-law and their children.

Then we went to dinner at Joannie's (one of Carrie's 4H leader friends) house, where she fed at least 40 people fantastically. I got to meet Carrie's other 4H leader friends - Robin (who is housing me) and Julie, and met up with Lisa and Sarah (Carrie's other high school friends here).
It's so touching to see how Kodiak's community has rallied around her, and I've never seen anything like it. People from Declan's school have been feeding John and visitors, and from his work, and other groups they were involved with. Robin says that since news of Carrie's death got out, for the next two days her phone never stopped ringing with people offering help of all kinds - food, housing to visitors, miles for family to travel - it's been amazing.

I think that John, left to his own devices while profounding grieving, would have gone off quietly by himself to regroup, but that's not been an option. Carrie's friends told him to step back and they were taking care of everything, and that they have done extraordinarily. I'm so glad they were Carrie's friends.

*that* visitor

The dogs are howling, and they do sound eerily like wolves. Rick has 16 right outside and the neighbors down the way have 50. Rick is Iditarod-bound next year, and it won't be long before I'm pressuring everybody I know to buy a sponsorship t-shirt.

I'm in ... I'm in the yurts, I'm not sure what "town" they are officially. I passed Willow 20 miles down the road. Of course at the rental place they ONLY had a BRAND-NEW never driven WHITE car for me to take. Some Chevy which rides low. Yeah, I was thrilled about THAT on these gravel roads! They only charged me $15/day to rent it, but we'll see what the damage costs add up to.

It's great seeing Tiff and Rick and catching up. It's been just a few weeks shy of 7 years, but it's like time hasn't passed. The only differences are Rick is even funnier when he drinks (and sorry Tiff's mom, he hasn't once deserved his special song), and Keegan will call out to remind us that "little kids are listening!" or Rohnan will stealthily eavesdrop which probably has an even stronger effect. The mosquitoes came out in full force when we went out for a walk last night - but they seemed to just swarm rather than bite.

I'm more than a little afraid of being known as The Visitor That Woke Us All Up at 4:30 a.m. Finally I got out of bed at 5 a.m. because I couldn't take it anymore. I thought I'd adjust to time changes better than I am - but sleeping in to 8 a.m. CDT is unheard of for me and I have the headache to tell me that, despite it only being 5 hours of sleep, it's time to get my lazy ass up. So I made coffee, stumbled down the stairs to the bathroom (where it's WARM!), and type here right outside their bedroom. It's wild to SEE people who have been just blogs to me for so long.

The yurts are really great - well, the big one (the little one was to be used as an Arctic entryway, but they go in downstairs instead usually). Spacious and airy. And Rohnan and Keegan are great - their parents do a great job with them.

There's still snow on the ground here. No A/C here for sure!

And my cell phone doesn't get any reception. It's like camping in the wilderness - but with electricity and running water and lasagna! :) And Tiff gave me their down comforter which is like MAGIC keeping me oh-so-toasty warm sleeping in "Erin's bed."

A very nice visit with old friends (yeah, we are old now, hehe) which will be topped off with a trip to REI today! Then I fly out to Kodiak for about 34 hours, then fly for about 20, then hopefully sleep, then have a job interview (I got a call for a law firm interview when my plane had JUST landed in Minneapolis - why did I have to answer it and sound like a disoriented moron?) and then take a final. So, I think I'll take something for this headache and do some studying now. I can hear somebody snoring, so I'm not that Evil Visitor Who Woke Us All Up at 4:30 a.m. to everybody. Though I will always be "that boring adult who kept talking to our parents and prevented us from watching Eragon when we wanted." But they're too nice to say it to my face. :)

the witching hour

This is the worst part of traveling - the part where I think, "What the fuck? Why am I going anywhere? I like it here!" Instead, I have to get up at 4:15 in in the fucking morning (I'm getting all the fucks out before hanging out with kids) to drive to park to take a shuttle to take a plane to take a plane to take a plane to take a plane to rent a car to drive two hours if I don't get lost to turn around and drive another two hours the next day to take a plane to just show up to take a plane to take a plane to take a plane to take a plane to take a plane to take a shuttle to get my truck to drive home and collapse into a puddle of travel exhaustion before I fail out of law school.

But, I have underwear packed now so it's all good. Underwear really is the most important thing. I mean, toothpaste I can borrow and toothbrush I can buy. But if I buy new underwear, I'd have to wash it before i can wear it, which adds a whole nother stress level (I like broken apart a ... nother).

I have so much studying to do before Tuesday and I'm not sure how that's going to work out.

But, I can't stress about it now. All I can is sleep so I can get a few good hours of studying in tomorrow on that plane ... to a plane ... to a ... you get the idea.

hello to tiff's mom

Tiffany and I were just acknowledging how we're blog stalkers - I read her links. She mentioned that her mom reads her links - including RIGHT HERE. So, if you're reading - HI! And I promise to sing the "Rick, Rick, he's a dick" song tomorrow, just in case they were missing you.

In the midst of packing, I very nearly forgot underwear and the like in the bag I'm NOT taking. That would be an interesting problem. So, I'm repacking, horrified at how much I'm taking for a long weekend (it's because of the thermarest and sleeping bag and winter clothes and my unwillingness to check any luggage). Sigh.

And I'm not going to get anywhere near as much work done as I need to - and that I will try to go to sleep in about an hour. OK, two hours. But I'm getting up around 4 am, which is 1 am in Alaska. Shit.

Victorville?

I don't ever answer my phone if I don't know who it is. Rule.

So when a call came from an area code I didn't recognize, I followed my rule.

Somebody played me a song. Somebody from Victorville.

Um, it sounds like something I would have done in high school.

And I don't know anybody in Victorville.

more Carville-isms

"Rudy Giuliani has been married more times than Mitt Romney has been hunting," (and remember, Carville is the Ragin Cajun, from very rural Louisiana, and that's no compliment.)

"In fact," he continued, "Mitt Romney, the first Mormon presidential candidate, is the only Republican candidate who has only had one wife. And Newt Gingrich, he was so afraid when the IRS said they were going after cheaters, until somebody explained that it was 'tax cheaters'."

How can the Republican party seriously call themselves one of family values? Philandering divorcers. Good grief.

I was just looking up Fred Thompson. He was born in 1942. Which is all good and well until I see that he married a woman born in 1967. He's an old man, and I think of myself (she is my age) as not anywhere near old. That's just nasty - the man has five grandchildren. You don't have more babies with some woman 25 years younger than you when you already got grandbabies. It's wrong people. His children are older than her. He could be our president?

And I already think about that I'm too old to have kids, and I'm not even 40. But I think - I'll never know grandchildren. I don't think I really am too old - but it's a consideration. I already have grey hair. Did Fred not ever think that? That man just produced another baby and he's 65 years old. That's just nasty and wrong.

Family values, ha. They can kiss my liberal no-abortion-having, no-divorce-getting BUT NOT USING GOVERNMENTAL POWER TO TELL OTHERS WHAT TO DO ass.

as good as it sounds

Last day of class. Last class. I'm freeeeeeee!!!

Guy says: "Now the stress really begins." Oh, whatever. Study, shmudy. You don't have to show up to some annoying professor. I just about stabbed my Legal Profession instructor in the neck today with a pen. He was SOOOOO ANNOYING. Sarah seriously sat there and plugged her ears because he was so bad. Resultingly, he was SKEWERED on evaluations. But, I checked my Ethical Rules of the Legal Profession, and stabbing instructors isn't allowable.

Other guy says: "Last day of class. It's never as good as expected." Oh, whatever. IT'S FANTASTIC!

I realize, I really hate showing up for class. I hate it because it's boring and annoying and I have to sit still for extended periods of time. I hate it because I have to show up - but that's just because of the standards I put on myself. Other people skip all the time. Whatever. It's over now, and only four more terms to go. Oh yeah, and finals.

I'm a little proud of myself

All those rental tests where I went undercover to bust racist landlords?

The study has been published - here's an article about it today on the front page of our newspaper. And the person in charge just emailed and said my work was included.

It's nice to be part of something right and just.

The bad news? 58% of housing in this area is less accessible to African Americans.

It sucks to be part of a society so wrong and unjust.

just show up

Sarah and I talked just now and she said not to worry about housing - it's taken care of when I get to Kodiak for Carrie's memorial.

"Should I rent a car or anything?"

"No, I just talked to my friend Natasha [Carrie's friend, too, and in Kodiak; Sarah lives in Juneau] and it sounds like there are enough beds and enough cars to go around for everybody."

"So, do you think I should call Natasha or just show up?"

"Just show up. Kodiak's a small town, and it'll all work out."

OK, but Kodiak's 13,000 people (wow, it's that large now??) is significantly more than Elim (population less than 300, usually), where I really did just show up, and took up the first offer from a four-wheeler to give me a ride. I hung onto the back of Jeannie's four-wheeler, clutching the rack with one hand and Selma's crate with the other (later of course, I'd let her out to run her way down, but I had just arrived and didn't want her shot as a fox) and let my future boyfriend's father take my luggage.

I'm thinking this won't be quite like that. There are cars in Kodiak, for one thing.

And while I am PLAN GIRL, I gotta say there's something really nice in just rolling with the flow. Maybe Natasha will pick me up or somebody else, or maybe not and I'll give a call when I get there. It's all good. Heck, I fly into Senegal and don't sweat it and to Ghana without a plan - I think I can handle Kodiak. And at the yurts too - I can just show up. I don't expect Tiff and Rick and Keegan and Rohnan to entertain me, and I don't have the need to entertain them - I can just show up and it'll be like old times of us hanging out at each other's apartments in Elim.

Hm ... now if I could just show up to my finals and have them turn out as well. But I did reschedule, so I'm set to go. And ready to go - except for that whole pesky studying thing. Sigh.

more mortality

I'm really, really ready for this mortality flood to end.

The latest? Tami's cousin died yesterday on the Twin Span - the bridge between New Orleans and Slidell.

Tragic.

Plan Girl in action!

I need a cape.

First, I'm going to Alaska. Friday early I leave, stopping for a day in Anchorage to play with the Holts in their yurt. Saturday out to Kodiak; memorial on Sunday, leave late that night to return here by Monday night. My final is on Monday, so I have to arrange to take it another time - and I'm a little worried about when that might be.

The thing is - it's 82 degrees and humid here. Shorts and tank top are too much clothing.

There, it's in the mid-30's and snowing. I don't even have a heavy coat anymore. This will be interesting.

Second, I called Dayton's brother. Poor guy didn't even know Dayton was in Liberia. See, it's not just me that Dayton doesn't communicate with - it's everybody. But he isn't engaged to just everybody. He said he's going outside Monrovia and will not be in touch for over a month. I call bullshit. He does that, we've over. I understand he needs to do this and I understand that technology is nonexistent there. But he needs to understand that I need a real relationship and I'm not waiting any more for him. I just feel so frustrated - I can't reach him to communicate. Where the hell is his phone? He just said he didn't have one - what's with that? So, I felt better after talking to his brother (who also has a very mild Liberian accent) - just to say, "If you see Dayton, tell him he needs to call me immediately." I know I'm a pain in the ass, but overall, I've been pretty darn good to Dayton and I don't deserve to feel like this. I thought things would get better once he got to Liberia, but they're worse. And my patience - never my forte - is gone.

So, I am a single girl flying to Alaska instead of taking her law school finals.

Funny how my identity changes so quickly.

And now I MUST study. I don't know anything that I'm supposed to.

mascot

I'm trying to remember some good basketball game chant about how our team (see above) will kick the other team's ass. Apparently I've never been good at those competition rituals.

It's wild to look at my old high school's website. Of course there was no website when I was there, and no computers even. It was 21 years ago I graduated. It was wild that one of the secretaries now was a co-worker 24 years ago, and her big dream was to be a school secretary - so I'm glad that's worked out for her. She's always been lousy at keeping in touch but I'll try an email. She could be a grandma now. And I am barren (it's an Edith Sodergran poem - don't ask).

I looked at old classmates who are teachers there now; no faces of teachers there when I was.

Is this a mid-life crisis? It has all the signs of it, except no shiny new red Porsche outside. I'm not real fond of where I am right now, and I'm real uncertain about where I'm heading.

I don't miss teaching, not really. I miss the kids a lot, and those times that we had a really great time. But all the other crap - that showing up every day and always being on stage. I don't miss being disciplinarian, advocate, counselor, mommy. Law may take my time, and suck the lifeforce out of me, but it'll never take my soul - that was done long ago.

Anyway, I think this mascot logo is kick-ass. I may be biased, having walked past a stuffed wolf in a glass case every morning for four years. There's something odd about me, being Alaskan. Or maybe that's just me. But I can't think of a single person I now from Alaska who isn't ... quirky. And the quirkiest of all are those who move there and stay! (that's for you Tiff - if you're reading - lol)

turning my frown upside down

What always makes me happy?

Cleaning supplies. Even laundry detergent, stain remover, borax, disinfecting wipes, sponges, fabric softener, rubbing alcohol (keyboards) - even that's not doing it for me today.

So I went to La Beraca and got the usual. I forgot to ask for platanos maduros and got the not-sweet ones. Now, why the hell would I want an order on the side of platanos verduros? She tried to call over the one English-speaker when I walked in, but I was like "No, really, it's ok. I can speak Spanish enough to order take-out Honduran." I got tortillas, beans, salad, plantains, and fresh pineapple juice - all for $5. She tried to argue with the owner to charge me more but he was like "No, it's fine."

Nearby, they fixed my glasses for free and did a good job, so hopefully my headaches leave now and I can focus better.

At K-Mart a woman asked me for help in determining which ironing board to buy. I do love these New Orleans moments. But the NOLA moment I don't love is that I'm sitting here in sweat and it only got to maybe 82 degrees today - it's that damn humidity and the fact that I have no windows for a breeze.

I think I need to just admit that I'm in a very foul mood and just be that, no matter how many nice things happen to me. A dear friend died, my soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend is uncommunicative, the most important tests of my life begin in a week and I'm unprepared. I don't know what I'll be doing in a month or for the rest of my life for that matter, and I need to move and everything's too bloody expensive.

I'm just grumpy. Move along, people - nothing to see here.

body image walk

there's this walk I take - maybe 1.5 miles each direction - that takes me through several different neighborhoods. Here are the student ghettos that I hate so much, then there are family houses with a few doubles/apartments, then totally run-down and abandoned, then hospital, then abandoned except for groups of guys who stoop sit. That's the part that kinda gives me the creeps each time - that if I were to scream, there's literally nobody to hear me. Blocks and blocks of flooded and/or burned houses that are abandoned. And I see cars that drive slowly through - some of them, the trucks, are looting the houses, but the others - the lowriders with booming music - are more sinister. Not that lowriders with booming music are sinister the vast majority of the time - I just mean in this neighborhood, how they drive around and around and around, sometimes following me - they're up to no good.

Usually I run into way friendly folks who wave hello and wish me a great day and comment upon my exercising.

Today was the funniest. I'm walking - I had just turned around in the last, totally abandoned part after walking past two creepy male stoops - one with six guys and two dogs, the other just two guys but really loud. A woman was walking towards me, swinging her arms wide and talking. Either she was talking to me and getting some cardio walkout with her walk, or she was crazy.

So I took off my headphones and said, "What's that?" as I kept on walking.

"You're out here gettin exercise just like me," she said. "But don't you be losin those hips! Hips are what it's about now! Hips are sexy!"

As I walked past, I got to hear about all the physical attributes which I should not be losing, as she patted it on herself. She ended with the butt - which is either (I couldn't quite hear) important for "our" sex or just for sex.

She spoke with the zeal of a West African missionary (trust me, they're zealous). When I said, "OK, but, well now, I could stand to lose quite a bit," she shouted, "NO!"

She wasn't crazy and she wasn't scary - she was just really adamant, and it cracked me up. It was like being back in Senegal, except the whole part where I understood what she was saying because it wasn't in Wolof. Both women and men there insisted that my body type is THE image of beauty and I shouldn't change a thing, except maybe get yet more hip and butt.

So, no more exercise for me. But, also no more sugar for me - it affects me hard, and I don't need anything else messing with my moods. Because of my hyperthyroidism but slow metabolism, research says I'm probably highly insulin resistant.

Drats anyway.

Which reminds me of another problem with going to Liberia - it always pisses me off when I go to Africa and I live on a diet of less than 1000 calories per day (porridge for breakfast and one more meal of rice and vegetables with fish or chicken - the most calories are from the palm oil) and do not lose weight. Bless my metabolism, it adjusts down. And while I do a lot of walking, it's too bloody hot and humid to do it fast enough for cardio benefits.

Sigh.

rebuilding rant

All I have to do to get excited again about going to Liberia is start cruising the internet.

Did you know that the life expectancy there is 39.6 years. Hm. Carrie was 39.3 years, and I'm 38.6. Puts it into perspective for me.

I have to go. Even if only for a month instead of the whole summer. If I don't go, I'll never forgive myself for missing this opportunity - I've wanted it for two years. Alfred, the director of "my" organization, promised to hook me up (not his words) with the director of Truth and Reconciliation Commission to work on an anti-impunity measure.

Anti-impunity. I think that is my new middle name, my mantra, my koan. Anti-impunity. It offends all my moral sensibilities that people get away with bad things - but especially in a society which could quite easily fall apart because of it. They believe forgiveness is the answer, but I disagree. I think, in a Rule of Law cult follower kind of way, that accountability is the answer. Not the fake accountability of our government, but a real holding people responsible for what they did. Only then will progress really be made.

And I also do not understand what seems to me Liberia's continued need for external assistance. It's like they always want outsiders to come in and set things right. Of course I know that no LIberians read this blog, or I would not post that - it's oversimplifying the situation. But I have hope - with people like Alfred, and especially with Madame President Ellen, that there will be self-sufficiency.

Which, worries me a little. Here I am ranting about self-sufficiency, and I as an outsider want to "help." That's my main hold-up about going. Not the discomfort, or the complications, or danger, or expense. It's about the contrast between what I really believe (that Liberians need to pull themselves out of this mess) and what I want to do (go there and help on my terms).

Article today talked about donor fatigue - and once that sets in, if you're relying on more help you're screwed.

I guess I'm all up on my high horse about self-sufficiency because I think New Orleans needs a bunch more, too. Not for the levees or that stuff, but for each house and small business. I know that everybody is exhausted from the extreme challenges of dealing with their own stuff - but why aren't people banding together more? Why aren't neighborhoods helping each other with gutting and building? Yeah, like an Amish barn-raising. Working together, things go quickly. Broadmoor is a good example of that, but why not the rest of the city? And why is there such a gap between the people and the government? We're only 200,000 people! There's no reason for this. It's beyond corruption - it's putting a barrier between the represented and the "representatives" that makes so many problems - from these stupid huge garbage cans that nobody has place to keep, to the cops never getting people to tell them who committed the murders, to a school system that needs to be razed and rebuilt.

Lousiana, according to a study I read recently, has the second-lowest rate of volunteerism. I had a hard time believing that - I know a lot of local volunteers - but maybe that's on to something. Why aren't people here helping each other more? I see there are two models - my house is flooded and my neighbor's house is flooded. We can both live in our FEMA trailers and wait for a volunteer service or FEMA or somebody else to come along and gut our houses - OR we can buy one wheelbarrow and first start on my neighbor's house and then when that's done start on mine.

When I first got here, I met a guy who owns a small cell phone shop. He evacuated with his family, but he was back within the week - sneaking past the National Guard lines - to start rebuilding. "Everybody sits around and waits here - why not pick up a damn hammer yourself?" Now, he has some skills, and he has family and friends that help - but he's really on to something.

I know, I'm Alaskan through and through. My father built our house, with the help of friends. I remember my 7th summer was spent picking up nails and cleaning up bags of cement, because a group of guys were there every day until the house was done (well, inhabitable - and then the rest of the work NEVER got done - nobody in my family is good with follow-through). And of course my dad did the same for other people's houses. That's what we did there - no tract housing, no outside consultants, no federal disaster management. We were the Alaskan Amish of a sort.

So I look around here, and I just don't get it. I went to Grand Isle and other small towns, and things look way better than here - because people help each other, people rely on each other - and not just their kin, but on their community. And I know that's buried deep in the nature here, but it's been covered up with something strange. It needs to be uncovered.

meningitis and my friend

Carrie didn't have the highly contagious form of bacterial meningitis, which is good news for her family and friends and acquaintances.

Here's an article about her.

It's in keeping with how she was - she wouldn't want to start a community-wide health scare or affect other people negatively.

when the right thing isn't cheap

I want to go to Carrie's memorial in Kodiak. It'll take three days of travel - that's three days missed of study time, and a final that I'll have to make up. And $1,000.

I want to go to Liberia for the summer. Housing looks to cost about the same as what it costs here - and yeah, that's with no guarantee of electricity or water. About $700/month plus all sorts of other costs, including the $2,000 + to get there.

These are all things that feel like the right thing to do - but spending that kind of money and time is scary.

singing praises to destruction

They tore down the house next door to me. It was a cute little house, but it sat for almost two years with the Katrina damage, and the people plan to replace it with a two-story using the space better. I thought it would be fun to gut and fix up, but Ahmed's idea of ripping it down was right.

Pipeworks of Harahan did really a fantastic job with ripping it down - it took them only three days of intensive work, during which they never blocked the streets or anything. They didn't leave their debris hoping for FEMA to come back through to pick it up - they loaded all up and drove it away immediately, and they leveled it with sand when they were finished. And they had workers of different ethnicities (always good, in my eyes, and unlike most of the workers I see around who are grouped by ethnicity exclusively). They weren't even obnoxious at all - even when they were pounding out the slab to remove, it was never unnecessary noise.

So kudos to a local firm who does excellent, professional work - and if you need a house torn down in the New Orleans area, I can highly recommend them.

relative safety

I don't just love Fred (and this is taken outside Dayton's house - it's a great view of what the view from his front yard looks like) because he's funny and smart and honest and good and can say "yesss" about anything and make it sound like a Barry White song.

I also love his loyalty, and he always tells me what I want to hear. Not in a way that he has no spine or sucks up, but because we are of one mind the vast majority of the time (and when we're not, we always get to be eventually).

He'll be in Michigan by Tuesday to get married, and I hope to go back to school - I think he would be an amazing lawyer and statesman of Liberia. But his presence everywhere remains strong - when I have a problem about anything, he's my go-to man. He's already connected me with Ernest who is helping me out with planning.

Fred says, "I think safe is a relative term." He thinks I should go to Liberia, without any doubt, and gives me numerous examples of other westerners living and working there and doing just fine. He recommends I not go into the interior (outside Monrovia), which I know, but says I'll be fine. And, he says that he has connections - people who will absolutely help me out in all ways for as long as I stay.

The thing is, Fred thinks I'm capable of anything I set my mind to, and he has a vision for a great Liberia and knows help is needed.

Carrie

Here's a recent picture of Carrie. I don't know what she loved more - animals, or helping old people and brightening their days. I can't recall even one incident of her trash-talking or trying to hurt people or doing anything from any place other than love.

Her death is such a loss.

Dayton says...

... it's far too dangerous in Liberia and I really shouldn't come.

Danger schmanger, right?

But I feel differently about danger now than I did a week ago, before "mortality week" struck. Sure, I have my meningitis vaccination, but I don't have any sort of bullet vaccination.

Plus, any work he can find appears to be out of the city. Which I would normally encourage him to do, especially if he got to use Kru (his first language, though he did learn English simultaneously) again. The tribal rural people are really at risk of exploitation and the like, so it's important that people be out there working for and with them.

But this means, I'll be on my own in "the worst place in the world to live." (According to The Economist, numerous years.)

He didn't exactly forbid me to come - which would of course meet with some response from me which would be unpleasant - but begged me to take his advice. So I want to be respectful of that and not just do the opposite of what he says without consideration. I think of Netanya - how she stayed with the children through Katrina because Keith wouldn't leave because of the elderly people of his church who couldn't evacuate - how they stayed for days in a church attic before swimming out to the Convention Center. When I asked her why, she said, "I'm not going to disrespect my husband. He knew the right thing was for him to stay, and my place is with him." But what if he had told her to go? Not that we're anything like Netanya and Keith - she's a solid rock of kindness and self-assurance, no neuroses there (unlike me completely).

So, lots to think about.

Here's what Lonely Planet has to say:

Uncertainty After Civil War

The mess that is Liberia's civil war seems to be on the mend but the country is still no place to go for a beach holiday. While elections and a new president have provided hope for continued stability, the security situation remains fragile. Crime is prevalent and potentially violent. Travellers should exercise high levels of caution at all times. Avoid non-essential travel outside Monrovia, and travel outside Monrovia at night should be avoided.

Farewell, Care Bear

My dear friend, Carrie Burgeson Crye, died.

Bacterial meningitis.

She leaves behind a 6-year old son, a husband, and a family and friends who loved her dearly.

Carrie's house was the fun house to hang at because her parents were fun, never complaining about our loud slumber parties, and they had a sauna in the basement. We would lip sync "I wear my sunglasses at night" - Carrie always had impeccable taste in music - or at least far more hip than me. She was the sane one helping us along with whatever crazy plans we might have - she would make jello with me at 3 am or go joyriding in a skiff in the harbor to take pictures off buoys or blindfold our friends and throw 'em in the back of my truck to take them to an elaborate picnic in the forest at a special spot we'd found while exploring. Last time I saw her was when I went down to Kodiak with Selma to visit for a week in 1998.

Lara just called to tell me, after Sarah called her, after Carrie's sister called her. Getting phone calls at 11:30 pm - it's never good news.

Sabine called today, telling me that her boyfriend's father had died - which I'm sure will devastate Mike, as they were extremely close.

And Virginia Tech haunts me so. And Rick's grandpa died.

I'm very ready for this week of mortality to come to a close.

So no more bad news people. It's not allowed.

Carrie will be missed deeply.

So, kiss the person next to you and tell 'em that you love 'em, and live life to the fullest. Because we never know if we'll live to 94 1/2, like Rick's grandpa, or 38 like Carrie, or 18 like Erin Peterson at Virginia Tech.

James Carville

I couldn't believe he's 62 years old - 60 really is the new 40. Of course, when you beat that hard with the ugly stick, age don't hurt. (I would say that to his face and he would laugh, so I can post it here.)

I just heard him speak and he is SO FUNNY - I can't ever remember laughing so hard. I have such a short attention span, but I think he's got me beat - and he only spoke 40 minutes and I could have heard him so much longer.

He spoke on all sorts of topics - ranging from being from Louisiana, masturbation, his randy past, his background, what he's working on (across the world), etc. etc. But most interesting was the story he ended with - when somebody asked him (assusatorily) what he would tell his daughters about how he dealt with the Clinton impeachment and he said: "I'll tell them I had a good friend who made a bad mistake, and someday they'll have a good friend who does a bad thing, and I hope they'll be loyal. But most important is that I want them to know that if they do a bad thing I hope they'll tell me first so I can be the first to forgive them."

It's a touching story, and I think that kind of unconditional love is what makes a family strong. But it's a different moral standard than I was raised to, and I think it's a southern way. And while I appreciate the high moral standards I was raised under and impose on others, I'm not sure it's the best way.

Something to think about.

And now I'm off to a banquet. This week is really non-stop back-to-back meetings and other such stuff. But soon it will be over.

and sometimes, good news

Well, I'm stubborn.

That may not be a big shock to, well, anybody who knows me. It's not always the case - about a lot of things I just shrug and say, "Well, if it's not meant to be," and don't worry about it. But about some things - like every student turning in an essay - my tenacity is insurmountable.

So, I tried numerous times to email this organization that does environmental legal work in Liberia and could never get through. (A prof here had recommended the guy, who came to my law school for an LLM (advanced law degree).) (Hey, notice the cool punctuation of that sentence (the ending parenthetical period) (to be repeated here).)

But, there is google stalking, so I found the director's personal yahoo email on a program of a convention he attended, and I emailed him this morning. The email below came through.

So, it looks like I may be going to Liberia after all.

I woke up this morning with the intense realization that if I don't go there this summer, there's no hope for me and Dayton. If I *do* go there, there's the chance we may not work out, but the way things are now, at this distance and communication problems, there's no way. So, it looks like off I go to the wet and humid capital of the world. Mid-80's and downpours every single day for the rainy season. Sigh.

But if I don't go, I probably will never forgive myself - both because of Dayton, but also just for me. Every time I push myself to do something really uncomfortable, it is rewarding and makes me a better person. And Liberia (still on the State Department's list of countries to avoid, I was reminded yesterday) will be really uncomfortable on numerous levels. BUT, because this director guy has been here, he'll get me better than some, and I really can appreciate their work (I have some problems with the human rights work there because I think there needs to be more accountability, but environmental work I'm all eager for because it's so critical and so not done).

The other good news is menstruation. I know, most women don't get excited about it, but I do. My latest reason? Every time I go to an endocrinologist, the determining factor whether I have full-blown hyperthyroidism or subclinical is if my period is regular. Which it is, usually 27-28 day. But this month, it was 29 days, which made me worry, which probably delayed it even more (which pregnancy scares used to do). So, yay! Bleeding!

Anyway, back on track - email below - and now the real planning begins. Which is when I'm really in my element. So, while I cannot fully drop my Saboteuse identity, I may more often be known as PLAN GIRL! (Sarah recently dropped off a triplex flyer she found, saying, "Here's something else for you to plot about." Ah, my reputation is already established here.)

**********

Dear [me]

most certainly. as a [my law school] graduate myself, you will be most welcomed to Liberia and the family of [his organization].

[my name] sounds Liberian and Grebo(my ethnic tribe)!

Will send you a couple of the issues we are presently working on.

Extend my regards to Eric and professor Houck. Finally tulane is looking towards Africa. lets make it work and exciting!

Alfred

all in the family

I came home after a very boring talk by my professor (what, hearing him three times a week isn't enough? we got guilt email so I signed up to make him feel better about himself - and he actually said it meant more to him that we his students were there than his colleagues or family - which is kinda messed up - but I digress)

I opened my backdoor and had to open up the screen to brush off the golden rain tree bugs that get through the huge gaps around the door. Something fell on my head. I don't think I screamed, but there was that quick reflex - it was a lizard. A big lizard. A huge lizard.

So there I am, with golden rain tree bugs on my hands and lizard on my head.

Yeah, I'm never alone in New Orleans.

no news is ... well, no news

Dear [me]:

USAID missions are currently reviewing applications. We hope to notify all applicants of their status this month; however, due to continuously changing priorities in the field, we are unable to advise all candidates of their status at this time.

We sincerely apologize for the delay.

Regards,
USAID, Africa Bureau

********
Sigh. So what does this mean for me? Do I find a new place to live and move in, just to have the opportunity to go away for months and be paying rent while not there?

Do I find a local LIberian NGO and make arrangements?

Do I make arrangements for a job or volunteering here in New Orleans?

WHAT DO I DO??

I just wish they would reject me if they're going to. It's so much better than not knowing.

what would I do?

I dreamt last night that I was driving on this curvy road, and drove off the road into the ocean. As the truck went into the ocean, I was all plan - "roll down the window! grab the wallet! grab the phone! can you take your backpack? no, let it go! no get out and float up!" [Amy has a phobia of electric windows as I do of bridges - that if you get into the water they won't roll down and you'll be trapped because the water pressure on the door won't allow you to open it.] I get out, swim up, and grab onto a piling which ends a good bit before the edge of the dock [why is it a dock? I thought I was driving?] so I can't reach around and pull myself up. But I'm there and somebody will come help. Then I start chatting with people all around, none of whom thinks to help me get up out of the water or do anything much meaningful except watch whatever it was we all came there to watch.

Hm, wonder what it means? I'm drowning? In over my head? No matter what the danger I'll think quickly and respond apppropriately and I'll be fine? That I need to work on my upper body strength?

I keep thinking about the Virginia Tech killings - as a former teacher, I keep wondering about Cho. We take those duties seriously, or at least I do - if I have a whacko student in my class I want to do something about it - help him/her somehow. And, as a former teacher, I too would of course risk my life to save my students [one time my students asked what I would do if la migra came - and we actually worked out a plan]. But now as a student, how would I respond to somebody coming in shooting up the place? Our windows don't open - and breaking through them would be impossible (they survived a hurricane - they're THICK), and our desks are long tables firmly attached to the floor (can't be turned down as cover). Would I figure out a way to keep our doors shut? To immediately get 911 called (my phone doesn't often work at school) and all the emergency dealt with? Could I stop a gunman (because really, people - they seem to ALWAYS be men) somehow? What if somebody were trained to do that and could have immediately, saving so many lives? (Yeah, I watch too much of The Unit, which JUST had a show of holding students hostage ...)

It's just so tragic and touches my life on so many levels. Mostly I wonder about the kid (he was 23, that's a kid to me) and why he was so unhappy and so messed up.

And I'm effing pissed off when I google his name, all these hacks trying to link him to Islam somehow. Timothy McVeigh - the first terrorist in the U.S. - was Christian, people. NOt the brand of Christianity my friends ascribe to - but so many people in the world see it differently - there's a freakin Christian jihad in the U.S., people - what else explains the hate thrown at gays/lesbians and Muslims? Just Monday - before I knew about the Virginia Tech killings, a Korean friend and I were talking about Christianity in Korea and why and how it spread so quickly.

My point is just that the kid was probably Christian, and that religion has probably absolutely nothing to do with anything - he was unhappy and sick. That we should instead examine our gun control laws and ways of handling people who commit arson and stalk (and no, I do NOT mean my brand of benevolent "stalking"). I had a roommate who was nuts, and when I saw her cutting herself and doing some weird shit, I called her parents - who denied it and got angry at me, but who showed up and that seemed to snap her out of it. But that was my first year of college and I don't even know what authorities I would have contacted. And I'm ... well, I'm an intervenor clear and simple. Noise in my neighborhood? I'm out the door checking it out. I wouldn't say I'm nosy - I'd say I'm involved.

So if I heard gunshots in my law school, what would I do? And could whatever I do save lives? I know, I'm not exactly smitten with my classmates right now, but I don't want ANY of them to die! And I do worry a little about the stress level that people are under right now, and the nastiness that brings out. Let's just hope it doesn't bring out the firearms.

And it makes me think of Kennymanjaro again - he's a very unhappy man. Sigh.

two weeks to finals

What sucks? Stupid professor who can't count. Now at the end of the term, when we're stressed about finals, we're reading like three times what we read back in January. Loser.

What's silly? Classmate pulled an all-nighter. He studied at school until 1:30 a.m., went home but couldn't fall asleep so got up and showered and got dressed and came back to school by 2:30. People just shouldn't even tell me things like that because I'll totally make fun of them - even though I don't know them and they seem like a nice kid (as in this case).

What's stupid? People miscalculating my age. Classmate who I thought was maybe 25, found out he's 30. OK, so I'm 5 years off, and he's Korean which I think makes it harder to tell. But he guessed that *I* was about 25, and that just pisses me off. He's 13.5 years wrong AND that means he doesn't listen to a damn thing I say. How the eff would I have taught for 10 years if I were 25? How would I have travelled so much, done so many things? I'm damn proud to be almost 39 and I want the damn respect accorded to me. I'm going to get a damn t-shirt that says "I'm old enough to be yo mama so shut up."

What pisses me off? *I* got called on in Contracts today. Some guy was floundering for an answer, so I asked a semi-related question to give him a minute to collect his thoughts, and then he said he needed to pass so she effing called on ME. I wasn't prepared, but I can fake it. What pisses me off? She went from me to THE MOST ANNOYING GUY IN THE WORLD two people down from me, then skipped a row of black students, and went to THE DITZIEST GAL IN THE WORLD. Not only did she do it AGAIN with ignoring the students of color, but she picked on me and called on people who should NEVER be allowed to speak.

Sigh. When I'm in charge of the world ...

note to self

No, absolutely no, hanging out with law students any time soon. They are making me absolutely crazy. Whining and backstabbing and excuse-making. Even the people I usually like to be around, they’re driving me up a wall.

One person just told me she plans to cheat in exams because other people will. My response? “There’s karma, and I’m not going to compromise MY ethical standards just on the rumor that somebody else will. Let them deal with it – it’s not my problem.”

And don’t let me see it, because I will report it to the Honor Board (it would be a violation of the Honor Code if I didn’t). She’s got all sorts of stories – about how 40% of law review (the top 8% of the class) had ADD diagnosis and allowed more time for exams, how our classmates’ fathers’ paralegals drafted their briefs – all sorts of stories that I simply don’t believe and she is just as certain are true.

But ultimately – it doesn’t matter to me either way. Let ‘em have more time, let their briefs be written by somebody else – it doesn’t affect me, not really. It does affect my grades because everything is curved – but everything works out.

Even if I were failing out, I wouldn’t consider cheating – because then what would I have left of myself?

Sigh.

If the top 10% of my class is cheaters or have accommodations that give them an unfair advantage (which I know for a fact is NOT the case), so be it. I’ll be wherever I fall in the curve and I’ll do the best with what I got.

I’m not even tempted, which is I guess a good thing.

Or now – the property prof videotaped the class, like I asked him to – somebody checked out the tape and has had it for several days. Um, return it?? And I wonder about the quality when it does get returned – will she have destroyed it just to be spiteful? She seems like a nice person, but people are going effing CRAZY.

We were nice during our first semester exams, but these are MUCH more stressful because we know what we’re in for and how important the grades are – they seriously do affect the rest of our lives.

Shrug. My strategy? Do my best, not sweat it, and do NOT interact with my classmates at all. Smile and walk away. And, extricate myself from study groups because they’re a big waste of my time. Hopefully they don't start demolition on the neighbor house anytime soon, because I should not be studying in the library - too many of those pesky law students there.

Ugh, and today I went to this talk about a major oil company, and I saw the lawyers and clerks interact and I learned two things. 1. They’re all geeks without social skills and 2. You have to totally suck up to get and keep a job.

I won’t laugh at something that isn’t funny. I won’t suck up.

That, on top of my mediocre grades, are not boding well for my future. Shrug. At least I got my integrity, and that counts for something.

weather in Monrovia

Heavy showers. 81 degrees Fahrenheit. Pretty much the weather every damn day. So, basically, I could spend $3,000 to spend a summer in a wet sauna, wearing a suit? Hm. Yeah, I can have that here, without the heavy rain all the time and without the airfare.

Dayton flew there yesterday, last I heard. He was pretty excited - having turned in the key to his house and given away his belongings to his friends.

This morning I had flashes of him interacting with children - which was probably because he was seeing his youngest daughter, Daytricia who is 6. It made me remember that last time I noticed how much he really does like children - a neighbor kindergartner who would drape herself across him, a baby he would hold, that sort of thing. Of course it made me make the snide comment, "You like them best before they talk."

But that can work out, because I like them once they become punks - that's when the fun begins. Young children who don't argue - not as much fun for me.

Grand Isle Migratory Bird Festival

Great weekend!

It took me about 2 hours, 45 minutes to get to Grand Isle – stopping to check tires, at the tourist center to get a map, and lunch.

The first thing that struck me as I approached Grand Isle was that the houses are WAY HIGH UP. The pilings are – golly, I don’t know – maybe 14 feet and the houses are that high up.

And as I approached Grand Isle, I saw many signs welcoming birders – even into people’s backyards.

I checked into my hotel room and learned there was no water in the town because of fixing pipes (it was later remedied and fine). The manager said it’s a regular problem, because the salt water corrodes everything so badly.

Then I drove around the town a little and went to the school where the Migratory Bird Festival was out of. Even the school was high up on pilings!

I met some folks and then we headed out to the bird trail. Within the first 10 minutes or so, I’d seen enough amazing birds to make the trip worthwhile – scarlet tanagers, summer tanagers, orchard orioles, indigo buntings, American red start, and many more. Gazillions hummingbirds. Fantastic.

Here’s one pic of a scarlet tanager – it’s slightly to the right, in the middle. They’re an amazing beautiful red. (Don’t confuse the hummingbird feeders!) (I was going to crop the pic, but I thought this would be good evidence that I tell the truth – I cannot photograph birds.)

And here are some wild irises – my very favorite flowers. How fitting that they would be Louisiana’s state flower! The Nature Conservancy and some other organizations have about 100 acres of wildlife reserve there, of the native oak-hackberry habitat.
I met some fun people, including a couple from Juneau of all places! They’ve been traveling around the lower 48 for the past 3 years, living out of their van with a pop-up top (for the bed). It’s a totally sweet van – I’d live in it!

After the bird trail, I headed out to the beach. Yes, Kate Chopin’s beach. I had a great walk from the state park clear to the end, wrapping around to the bay. It’s so invigorating and satisfying to walk along the beach. Once I left the park area, there was nobody around and it was awesome. In the first pic below, you see the bayou to the left and the Gulf of Mexico to the right. And I just thought this was a way cool sand layering pattern.
And here, some funky critter-holes. This made me glad that Selma wasn't along. Anything dead and rotting she thinks is some way-wonderful perfume, and usually before I can grab her she's rolled it, writhing in ecstasy. BLECH! Bathtime! I saw about 6 dead pelicans, which seemed a lot. And here's the ubiquitous oil industry. Sigh.
Once the beach tent camping is reopened there, I’m definitely heading back!

Then I had dinner and headed back to the hotel, where I saw the sunset on the pier as people fished all around me. I got a little homework done while half-watching Stargate.

I didn’t sleep great, but it was ok. After my hotel room breakfast (that was a great idea, that I did that), I headed out to the marina for the boat tour. And waited. And waited. Some other people joined me later and they waited, too. I chatted up a couple, originally from New Orleans, and they were awesome – quirky and NOT RACIST and fun-loving positive retirees.

Once we decided that the boat wasn’t coming, we headed back to the school. Found out that the weather was too inclement for the boat captain (barely a drizzle and not much wind, so I don’t know – think he’s a wienie – the real “weather” didn’t start until hours later), so we signed up for the Island History Tour with a local, Vera Chighizola, direct descendant of “Nez Coupé” – Louis Chighizola, one of Pirate Jean Lafitte’s right-hand men. How cool is that – her great-great-great-great-great-grandfather was a pirate so mean he lost his nose in a brawl? Here's Vera, who is my height, showing how high the water got in Katrina - almost to her house but not quite. Once the power was turned on October 8, 2005, she was fine - just needed some minor roof repair, but Mennonite volunteers did that for her - she just provided the supplies. (Don't get me started on the Mennonites - THEY ROCK.)

We saw lots of fun things – like this house, where women of the town would gather every day at 3 pm after lunch dishes were done and children were home from school and told to go out and play. They would gather to catch up and spend quality time – and I sure wish I’d written down the Cajun word for it - make (faire) something that begins with a V.

Speaking of Cajun v words, this is a cattle guard – something like villveau, which means “cattle-turn-around.” Grand Isle used to have tons of cows wandering all around, so people would put these in their backyards instead of gates so the cows couldn’t get in.

There’s also this house, which is two houses connected. Long ago, the small house on the right, the mother’s, was located here, and the son’s, the larger part, was down a street away. During a big storm (Betsy?), the son’s house got moved there, so instead of moving it back they just attached ‘em. Cajun ingenuity, although Grand Isle is NOT Cajun – it’s mostly descendants of Lafitte’s “privateers” (pirates), so lots of different kinds of people (Chighizola was Italian, and others English and all sorts of things), though Cajun French was the lingua franca back in the day.

As you see here, even the Town Hall is elevated – as were the post office, community center, etc. Vera’s cousin evacuated here during Betsy, and the altimeter broke at 175 mph. Sheesh!

After the Island History Tour, I headed over to the Butterfly Dome – really nicely done. Not too many butterflies – but I think that’s because visitors don’t know better and they let them out – I saw the people that came in behind me held the door open a long time, and I saw some butterflies get out.

Then I went back to the school and waited for lunch, chatting up some folks, and hiding from the hard rain in the van of the camping Alaskans.

The jambalaya and white beans were EXCELLENT – far better than I get in any restaurant. It was a fundraiser for a cancer patient, and during lunch we chatted up the locals organizing it.

What a great place! One of the women, she lives in LaRose (45 minutes away) and had a camp in Grand Isle, but can’t afford to rebuild after Katrina. So she comes every weekend and stays with different friends. THAT is the kind of place Grand Isle is. The tight-knit sense of community is fantastic.

I SO want to buy a camp there now and have all my friends come visit me!

I left after post-lunch chat, and I made it back in two hours. I had planned to stay until later this afternoon, but it was raining really hard and my homework started to way on my mind.

Now I blog and post pics, reflecting on my really great mini-vacation, listening to Jack Johnson, getting ready to buckle down for the next 3.5 weeks of intensive studying.

And I’ll be going back to Grand Isle! Who wants to join me??

flowers of Grand Isle

There were some amazing flowers there – many of which I don’t know. (And the local names I do know include Turk’s Cap and Piss-au-lit – not real helpful. It seems that most the people I meet here aren’t real up on native botany – even the birders.) Many of these pics are from the butterfly dome, so native butterfly friendly, and will be a great help when I finally DO have a house with yard here.

Sorry for the blurriness of some of the pics – I’m still working on that close-up skill.

And yeah, for the inevitable smart-ass question – yeah, I went to Grand Isle for the birding. But I can’t ever photograph birds well, so I don’t even try – but flowers, they stay still. Gotta love that.