PNewL PNewS
Volume 16 No. 1 “All the pnews that phits.” April 2008
Things I am Learning And Other Miscellaneous Observations
It’s all about learning these days. Later.
And so begins Year 16 of the PNewL PNewS. Thanks for reading.
Reminder: 27th Annual Angel Island Picnic Saturday June 21 2008
Perles Beach. Be there or be square
Bye Bye Ann
My cousin Ann died this past month. She was a good friend for a good long time. We called each other west coast sisters. We ate great food, Worked on some projects together. Took walks at Point Reyes. She and her partner Victor joined brother Peter and I in Thailand and Bali and “Langwacky” (aka Langkawi Malaysia). She introduced me to NPR. She was an incredibly
gifted artist and teacher. And there are many who miss her. I am one of them.
Amazing…
“Looks like you forgot your kleenex tonight,” said Amelie as she dug around in her bag for some. The night before, at the premiere of Swimming Upstream: The Katrina Monologues, I had suggested people bring along their tissues as it could be, like lots of things in New Orleans and on the Gulf Coast in general, emotional. This night was the 10th Anniversary of V-Day, celebrated with a star studded very New Orleanian version of the Vagina Monologues. I wasn’t expecting the emotions here but out they poured. Sigh.
I have recently returned from five days in New Orleans, a visit that was so cram-packed full of different events and experiences and plenty of emotions, it’s hard to know where to start and how to tell the story. I told Sue and every other word was amazing. She said it was ok because it seemed that it truly was an amazing series of events.
The first two and a half days were taken up with site visits in New Orleans and on the Mississippi coast, meeting amazing activists and organizers and seeing the impact of the work they are doing. I want to adopt them all, I want to be them when I grow up, I want the world to be overwhelmed with pride for these folks who are doing such good hard work because the government isn’t. I want them to fulfill their mission, to be our future leadership, to solve the problems that New Orleans and the Gulf Coast are examples of. So many people said that NOLA provides a microcosm of the problems facing the country and the world. These are the people who are going to walk us through to the solution. Listen and learn. Love them. They are us, when we are the best we can be. (I don’t know what some of this means but I am on a roll.)
After this, I said to someone, I am full. I can’t hear anything more, can’t absorb anything else and I found I didn’t know myself very well. I went directly into two workshops on socially responsible investing, lead by a whole pile of—yes—amazing women. While I probably could have absorbed more under different circumstances, I learned a lot and was once again inspired by thoughtful smart amazing people doing good work.
With a brief break, we moved on to the premiere of Swimming Upstream, dramatic readings of a series of monologues by New Orleans’ women describing their Katrina-affected lives. It premiered in the Superdome—this weekend dubbed the Superlove—and all those images we all have in our heads of the hideous moments post Katrina…the people stuck in that building with little support…the overwhelming images…it was powerful being in that building, but hearing the women read the words was more powerful. In the way that is New Orleans, music was at the core and as we sniffled from monologue to monologue we were cradled in the melodies. I can’t imagine hearing “This little light of mine” ever again without getting choked up, it was all so moving. When it comes to a town near you, see it. These are stories, like so many, that need to be remembered.
Meanwhile, I managed to catch snippets of the French Quarter Fest—great music in all nooks and crannies as well as great food— and the events at the Superlove—part of the celebration of the 10th Anniversary of V-Day, working to eradicate violence against women. Non-stop early in the morning to end of the work day, speakers from around the world, local performers and celebrity leaders appeared on that stage.
The final evening we went to the closing event, a star studded, only in New Orleans version of the Vagina Monologues with people like Jane Fonda, Jennifers Hudson and Beals, Doris Roberts (from among other places, Everybody Loves Raymond), Charmaine Neville, Faith Hill. Plus 1200 women who hadn’t been back since the storm. At the end, Eve Ensler, the producer of the event, asked everyone in the audience of about 15,000 people who had been abused to stand up—my guess would be a third stood up. Then she asked everyone who knew someone who had been abused to stand and the whole room was on their feet. Together we sang R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Yeah, I had my kleenex then too.
Disengaging
It’s a brief time before the process will hit its full stride—when moving will become a full-time job. The disengaging process has begun. Regrets about not getting to those things I can always do because I never felt pressed before loom large. Events I could always go to next year but now probably won’t. Skipping some meetings because…well, I have been to enough of them…and why bother? New will be good but missing the old, the familiar, will be hard.
I knew something was going on when I drove through the Wildlife Refuge in early April looking for the white pelicans—one of dad’s and my favorite—thinking I’d missed them: they usually leave around this time. Tears were streaming down my face. I said aloud, so you thought this would be easy? Ha. But a flock–they are so big the word “herd” comes to mind—of the pillowy white birds were perched on the mudflat in the pond by the Lookout. I was so pleased, I miss them already.
It’s impossible to imagine leaving now. The weather is perfect. Warm in the sun, a little bit less so in the shade. Sun glistening on the bigger than ripples/not quite waves in the canal. The neighbors are leaving—the frantic energy and activity of season is dissipating.
The breeze feels like fine silk as it touches my skin.
I remember when I first started walking with Kathleen—it was this kind of weather and she said, “When we’re walking in July, we will think of these perfect days and remember why we live through the hot part.” Each year, I have thought of that and been so grateful for knowing these moments of perfection.
Once again, I am writing this as Bear and I sit in the shade of the palm tree in the cul de sac. He is chewing on a stick—an expensive one this time: a Bully stick and if you don’t know what that is, well, I will forgo the description. It’s almost cloudless though there are clouds beginning to build in the east. Maybe we will get a thunderstorm in the afternoon with much needed rain. A boat just went by and I feel as I sometimes do—you may have the boat, but I get to be here every day…for now.
And too soon as always, it is time to go. Bear’s done with his bully stick and he’s wrestling a palm frond into submission. He apparently thinks it’s time I got involved.
