Crescent City Makeover

Reach Out, a group of young people engaged in service learning at Chicago's Columbia College, has for three years spent their Spring Break in NOLA lending energy to help revive the wounded spirit of that city made of magic. One young man involved made a timely comment about the way that all must recognize that progressive civic action goes far beyond which political candidate one chooses to endorse. "Democracy isn't only about voting," he astutely recognizes. "Voting provides an extremely minute effect. Real change happens in devotion of your time and a change of your lifestyle." I couldn't agree more.

When New Orleans makes herself over she may not look the way we expect her to. (Who can say how she will mask when she studies what’s hanging in her armoire and selects robes to fit the occasion of her revival?) It's also possible that she may not be sighted at the fêtes to which she's been invited. And while it makes me sad to see the very real psychological and economic toll that Katrina and its aftermath has taken, I know that the secret of NOLA's allure is carried more in the living culture of her children than in the inanimate structures left crumbling behind. The real spark is kindled within the people, so no amount of neglect can inhibit its repair from fragility to strength. Einstein knew of this law of regeneration. And Zora Neale Hurston gave poetic testament to the same when she said: “Nothing is destructible; things merely change forms…Why fear? The stuff of my being is matter, ever changing, ever moving, but never lost.”

Lagniappe (A little something extra)

VMXperience New Orleans
A unique experience that gives a virtual tour of some of New Orleans meaningful cultural attractions

Making Groceries in New Orleans
Anyone jonesin' for a real taste of the city might want to take a look at what's in this pantry

New Orleans Priced Out of the Parade
An article written by a native New Orleanean taking a brief look at the past and present of the social aid and pleasure clubs

Coffee and Pie French Quarter Photos

Christopher Porche West Photography

Dark Madonna on the Big Screen

"Our age has a violent face; we feel the need of somebody like [Precious] Ramotswe who offers forgiveness rather than confrontation and recrimination. Such people are there; we need only give them the space to breathe, the chance to talk to us."

It was refreshing to read the Scottish author, Alexander McCall Smith's intention in creating the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series (see BBC's "A Few Words from Alexander McCall Smith"). Smith's story is about a woman from Botswana who loves her self, her life, her people. She is full figured, smart, industrious and incidentally, her name is Precious. She could be the African sister-cousin to mystery writer/community activist Barbara Neely's character Blanche White.

But getting back to AMS, I think that Jung's archetypal Dark Madonna has been talking to the chap and that he's symbolically amplifying her whispered voice for others to hear and be comforted by. How good it is when artists use their super-powers (smile) to awaken hope, possibility and laughter.

And of course, I can't wait to see Jill Scott, Idris Elba, Anika Noni Rose and the colors of the Continent come alive in the recently-made film!

Son Rico

God knows that a sister like me is starved for good, new music with substance. If you feel the same, check out this guy Alex Cuba whom EbonyJet.com just did a feature on.

Honorific

There needs to be some honorific that we give to keepers of our culture -- be they family members, friends or public figures-- who stay the course and who are unwavering in their commitment to serve and to teach.

This name should carry with it as much honor as does Sir when a man has done deeds worthy of knighthood or coronation. Or how in the Southern U.S., Africa and elsewhere folk put Mama or Sister in front of a name. (The thing about these last example is that they have been severed from their root and thus cut off from some of their vital energy, I think.)

This honorifitc should be one that's not pretentious. It must be heavy with honor yet light as a garland on the head or a lei around the neck.

What should this name be? Who would you select for the honor and why?

Historical Irony

I love these pictures of my grandfather's life as a church leader. They mark his journey from "The Door to the Pulpit" (the name of the memoir that he long ago told me he fancied writing about his progression from usher to deacon to pastor), one of the most important rites of passage of his life. Since my mother shared copies with me, I've been struck by their intimate yet journalistic quality. I used to wonder who took them. Not long ago, I got my answer.

The irony that lies beneath these images is just as fascinating as the moments they preserve: Grandpa told me that he and the photographer both worked at the Galveston Wharf Company. Grandpa first worked with the Wharves as a janitor and through the Civil Rights years was gradually promoted until he had a "respectable" desk job.

In any case, in addition to the photographer's job at the Wharf Company he had ties to the local paper and, rumor had it, to the local branch of the Klan. Grandpa shared this in a very matter-of-fact way, with nary a note of anger. Almost like he was recalling the score from a sports match.

Was grandpa extending collective forgiveness toward the photographer and all that he represented by not only inviting him to our family's place of worship, but also granting access to such a private and sacred moment in his life? Or was it simply fear and submission?

A finished photograph tells as much about what a photographer sees with his heart as what he sees with his eyes. Say what you like, but to me these images say that in some small corner of himself, the photographer was testifying to the beauty and tradition of this ceremony. Else how would he have known that the congregation of elders crowning grandpa's head with their arms extended like beams radiating from the sun was worthy of preserving? Why was the photographer interested in attending in the first place?

Such is the irony of relationships in the South.

What a Bad Card

From time to time, I tune in to the televised theatre, that is to say the news carnival that alternately seems to applaud and want to obliterate the mere hope for change that the Obama campaign speaks of. It's funny how they're grabbing for anyone within reach-- Obama's minister, his dog, his third grade substitute teacher-- with the idea that this will pull down the senator and slow his advance.

And it very well could. Who knows.

What I can say is that even if Obama goes no farther than he has gotten at this writing he has traveled so much further than any of us could have imagined. And though his voice contained some tentative and uncertain notes in the beginning, it has grown stronger as the race has gone on. He has acted with intelligence and integrity when his hand was forced, and in that old tradition of "speaking truth to power" has been courageous enough to give voice to things that some would imagine are better left unsaid. For this he gets much respect.

I recently heard some politician say, half-jokingly, that a presidiential race is as much about music as it is about platforms. (Funny that only when tied to politics, and of course profit, is Art deemed to have any worth, that some folk come to recognize it's power and usefulness...but that's kind of beside the point). Obama's folks have made good musical choices that make you want to snap your fingers and wiggle your backside, because you remember. McFadden & Whitehead's "Ain't No Stopping Us Now." Stevie's "Signed, Sealed, Delivered." Songs with meaning. And yeah, Soul doggonit.

Wouldn't it be something, though, if their selector were to spin that old Impressions song "We're a Winner" or that one little piece-a tune called "Bad Card" by our brother Bob (big grin + wink an' chuckle):

You a-go tired fe see me face/Can't get me out of the race/Oh, man, you said I'm in your place.../Propaganda spreading over my name;Say you wanna bring another life to shame/Oh, man, you just a-playing a game...

Sunday at the Met

Check out this link to part of the Metropolitan Museum's transcribed lecture series; this one takes a look at Christianity's First Centuries in Africa and features work from one of my favorite photographers, Chester Higgins.







Ethiopian child with Meskel Flowers from
http://www.globalgang.org.uk/images/resized_image_tcm7-26114.jpg

My Soul Says Yes (to the MFA)

I've been thinking about whether or not it is wise to take on the responsibility of the MFA program that I applied to. Getting cold feet I guess, especially considering the cost. One big question that my mind has been asking though is can I afford not to atleast try.

The answer came when I got Round One of my nightly sleep (when I lie down with Jared at his bedtime, I end up drifting off and then wake up between midnight and two a.m., stay up for an hour or so reading, tidying, blogging, e-mail checking, self-tending or otherwise piddlin'...)

Anyhow, questions about security versus pursuing dreams are currently at the front of the line in my mind. Like a telegram response, one of my dreams delivered this: I was in a library researching Sally Hemings and Thomas Jefferson. I was so absorbed in the research that I went one level beyond my dream and stepped into the past. Kind of like a trip to Colonial Williamsburg, my research was my time shuttle. When I found myself back in the modern era I was back at the library and had collected a bunch of thin strips of paper (research fragments) that I had stacked and was making neat and organized.

For some reason, in order to go any further with my work and return to the library, I had to get permission from one of the staff members. This made me indignant, but I did as required and continued working (and being delighted by the process) and waiting. Waiting for the yes or no answer.

Yes! Remember that down-at-the-creek scene in the movie version of the Color Purple where a choir and the voice of Tata Vega as Shug Avery sing the prelude "Maybe God is Trying to Tell You Something"? Yes. That's what my mind is repeating now. "Trust yourself and know that it's okay to move forward with your dream/plan/ambition. You have what you need to put the tool to use once it is placed in your hands." This is the answer that came. Now I'm feeling a little like Moses and Jonah: do I really have the courage to listen and act?

Labyrinth (Haiku)

Image from www.innerlightministries.com

Walking the labyrinth

Searching for blessed center

To kneel at the throne