Cold Spaghetti

Lights may be down and out, but the signs are everywhere! 

A restaurant in flooded Lakeview. 

Tour boat on West End Blvd, a few blocks from the Marina. 

Dump site for tree and yard waste, to be mulched. This particular pile (on West End Blvd in Lakeview) runs for almost a mile. Backhoes travel up the sides to dump loads to the top and are lost in the volume of debris. 

Typical view of a street on the north side of the city. Debris, silt, dirt, and everything gray — broken up only by the multitude of signs dotting the corners. 

Debris pile in Lakeview. This pile runs 2-4 stories high for at least a mile. 

We all survived yesterday. Most miracously, I managed to do so without having to be bailed out of jail for taking out some jerky parents. When we picked up Will, he was waiting with other kids lined up in the hallway, lunch box in hand. The run up to the door one-by-one, when they are called, as their parents arrive. Adorable. The teachers said Will, “was an angel… loving, friendly, helpful, and full of hugs.” That’s my little man!

Today. More tears at drop off. Fortunately, another parent was there, put her arm around me as we walked out and said, “It’s okay, we’ve ALL been there and COMPLETELY are with you on this!” Now that is great parental support!

When Will and I walked into University Montessori School at 8:15 this morning, he was very excited. He was saying “Play! Play!”, bouncing happily in my arms, thrilled with the memory of our visit last week when he played outside with the other kids. We met the second teacher in his classroom, visited the other kids left earlier as part of the “afterhours” care program (which starts at 7:30) and then went into Will’s classroom with the new teacher to get oriented. Will was very at home, chose a puzzle, brought it to a table, and sat down to play. He was very content and completely ignored me while I talked to the teacher. Finally, I turned to leave — this is when Will finally noticed me. Damn. The crying started, I stayed, and he calmed down. I left again, but just to the office located one room away from Will’s classroom. On my way, I opened the front door for another first-day student, 2 1/2 year old “Nate” (not his real name) and his parents. At the same time, Will ran out of the classroom calling “Mommy!” So, I ushered Will back in the room with Nate, all the while being extra friendly to Nate and introducing him to Will. Nate promptly takes Will’s puzzle away from him, his parents (rather than explain the concept of sharing), turn to me and say, “Nate really doesn’t understanding sharing.” I brush it off with a smile, “that’s okay.” And watch with pride as Will, pleasant as ever, ignores this rudeness and simply begins playing with another puzzle.

When I go to leave, Will begins to cry again. This time, we decide I should just let it go — he’ll be fine in a few minutes. I go to the office and wait to turn in our enrollment forms, listening to Will in the next room cry for me. It’s hard. But, it doesn’t last all that long and is clearly handled well by the staff. As it’s nearing the end, I see Nate’s parents walk past the office door on their way out and hear Nate’s dad say, “Well, that went well, except for that KID who won’t stop CRYING.”

Yah. That’s right. The jerk bad-mouthed my kid. I said nothing (they didn’t see me sitting in the office), mostly because I could only think of two things to say:

1. “Thanks for being such a compassionate parent!”
2. “At least MY kid knows how to SHARE.”

I kept my mouth shut, figuring that saying either one of those things was not a way to start off Will’s first day at school — and our first day in this program we’d really like to stay in.

While Paul and Alex were here working on cleaning up Alex’s house (see posts from October 5th) they took a walk around our neighborhood and came across this guy stealing a stoplight. They confronted him. He cursed and threatened them, but when he saw they weren’t kidding (and at the pleading of a woman inside the car) he stormed off and drove away. His car has Vermont plates (“NVRM1ND”). What a jerk.

From The Times Picayune:

WASHINGTON — Immediately before and after Hurricane Katrina hit the New Orleans area, the Federal Emergency Management Agency’s lone official in the city e-mailed agency leaders warning of a desperate need for medical help, oxygen canisters, even food and water.

Marty Bahamonde, a FEMA public affairs official with 12 years of experience in disaster areas, on Thursday told a Senate panel investigating the disaster that for reasons he still can’t quite comprehend, most of his pleas for help got little or no response.

His testimony, and the printouts of his e-mails to FEMA colleagues, give the clearest indication to date of the chaotic federal response to the disaster. They also directly contradict statements by former FEMA Director Michael Brown that he wasn’t aware of the grave conditions in the city for days after the hurricane, as well as his claim in recent House testimony that he had assembled a team of FEMA officials, including doctors, before Katrina made landfall.

“There was only one (FEMA) person there, and that was me,” Bahamonde said.

A Sept. 3 e-mail to a FEMA colleague seemed to sum up his assessment of the Katrina relief efforts: “The leadership from top down in our agency is unprepared and out of touch. But while I am horrified at some of the cluelessness and self-concern that persists, I try to focus on those that have put their lives on hold to help those they have never met and never will,” he said.

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Read the full article here.