Trip to the Red Bull's Eye

Sometime early afternoon the VOR, #3, and I headed out of the city to the local shopsthatareeverywhereelseinAmericaasphaltcentral so we could patronize a Minnesota based upscale (at least that is what they want me to think) KMart. Minus the fantastic night in Gretna to our first parade this marked the first time I have ventured out of the city in the past few weeks. (Benefit of living in a cool place, you never have to leave). So we strolled around the store where people where red tops and khaki pants for a good hour or so. (Supposedly the VOR said she would have completed her shopping experience in 15 minutes if I had not tagged along).

Not to sound too Jerry Seinfeld but have you noticed that damn near every grocery item has calcium in it? Bread with calcium, cereal with calcium, orange juice with calcium, potato chips with calcium. Pretty soon Americans will turn into one big bone, we will become one giant femur looking species where all of the Plutos of the world will just sit around and gnaw on us throughout the day (see Bone Sweet Bone, 1948 Disney).

The other striking find: Rhodia writing pads. I had heard that they were now available at the one store that bought all the advertising in the New Yorker a couple of years ago but doesnt sell the New Yorker in its stores but had yet to actually see the pads there. I saw them today. They were in the sale bin! Lying on the bottom of the sale shelf wallowing in pity, self-loathing and utter abandonment were two No. Rhodia pads one black, one orange. I bought the black.

Mardi Gras Floats Video

Mardi Gras where to begin??? It was absolutely amazing. Nothing could have prepared me for it. I loved, loved it, loved it. The kids danced like there was no tomorrow. We screamed like there was no tomorrow and celebrated like there was no tomorrow. It was an amazing release and intake of energy. As we watched the Mid-City parade I took this video on top of a ladder on Napoleon Ave. to try and give a feel of what I experienced. I believe there were 43 more floats on this parade. The parade was one of four that day.

Publication

A letter to the editor, three book reviews, and a column in the monthly church newsletter (although there are not many editorial barriers for the the last one) up until today they composed all the times any piece of writing I offered was published.

Yesterday my first ever Carnival season ended with Ash Wednesday. It was an amazing run of 12 or so days. I felt things, did things, and experienced life like never before. On Monday morning something within me clicked and I had to write it down. I submitted it to the local paper, The Times-Picayune, for publication and they actually published it. Tomorrow morning when you, that is if you read the T-P in the morning, you will see this article.

Amazing what this city will do to you.

More Shameless Self-Promotion and Another GreatS Saints Article

I will alert folk of the outcome sometime tomorrow afternoon. I am apprehensive that about the outcome.

Go here for more details.

And for another great article of the Saints as a metaphor for hope and resurgence.

A Room of My Own

In seminary I obtained, by honest means, a copy of The Living of These Days: Autobiography by Harry Emerson Fosdick. I swallowed the book within a reading or two; sitting in my favorite grooved chair (must know the Simpsons to fully appreciate that reference). I read it for tips, I wanted to know how H.E. Fosdick became H.E. Fosdick. I remember feeling a bit let down after finishing the book. It did not answer the questions I had.

Then again I wasn't ready for his life. I related solely to his call. I had a now deceased friend read the passage where Fosdick said he wanted to make a contribution to the spiritual life of his generation. That spoke but the rest didn't. For nine years his ministry track and mine were nowhere near parallel.

Then I accepted the call here. In no way am I comparing SCABC (terrible acronym by the way) to First Presbyterian Church, Park Avenue Baptist Church or The Riverside Church. I take that back for in some ways I do believe the congregations do share a sisterly liberal Protestant bond. SCABC is a stable church, with a realistic active membership of 250 with a consistent 90-110 in worship on Sundays.

The church is on a great American thoroughfare, next to Tulane and Loyola Universities, Audubon Park, and Loyloa Law School, there is a fantastic B & B on the next block, the street car runs up and down the Avenue, Habitat for Humanity uses our second floor, and a law office that specializes in anti-death penalty cases uses a good portion of the lower floor (before him ACORN's first offices were here). All to say that this is a noisy place, phones, footsteps, cell phones, delivery people, parcel people, people needing directions, people need aid, people needing to sell the pastor something. I, naively, thought I would benefit from the traffic, the energy, and the hustle and bustle. For the previous nine years I had worked in small membership churches largely in isolated settings.

After six months of work here I realize to the degree I treasure and need silence for study and reflection. It is impossible to center on a thought, an idea (I was away for 30 minutes while typing this b/c someone stopped by), with any sustained energy. Now do not get me wrong I love it when people stop by - thus open office hours. Nevertheless, I am undertaking a very Fosdickian practice: holing up in a room away from a phone, foot traffic, or internet access.

Fosdick was able to rent an office in Manhattan in an office building with no windows; I'm not there yet. But I was able to take advantage of this grand old building and commandeered a hard to find and unusual room. It has a window, is nearly impossible to find, and best of all it is silent. I have read more this week than in the past month. I have been able to chew on an idea for a good amount of time.

Will this mean better sermons? More prolific ideas? Will correlation = causation? Those are questions only the future can answer. I do know that the revitalization of this congregation is going to take the hard work of every member and will rely on the vision by the pastor which will be pieced together from the lives of the congregation. It will require deep thought, sustained thinking, and silence.

Off to a room of my own...

Shameless Self-Promotion

Nice write up in the morning edition of the Times-Picayune if I do say so myself.

As Sunday approaches I have been thinking quite a bit about the process and how I arrived in New Orleans. 1. I thought the search process would have taken place quicker. 2. I did not know what I really wanted until I interviewed with two or three churches. 3. I was surprised at how steep the learning curve was as I journeyed through. 4. I am glad it took as long as it did. 5. I am glad I did not rush the process and kept waiting till I found a right fit. 6. As bizarre as it may seem to thank other search committees, thank you. I talked with one member of a search committee yesterday. I thanked the person for the experience and informed them that if I had not interviewed with them I would not have had the clarity needed to engage the congregation. The person also said the search committee would not have been able to call the person they did unless they had interviewed me. It is a two-way process, dialogue and journey.

I was sad, and still am, to leave the folk from Rhode Island, but I am glad to be where I am today. My family is glad - even though it has been a tough journey for all of us.

FIrst Class Ticket on the Bandwagon Express

In July my family and I moved to New Orleans. I tried, in vain, to prepare myself for this new journey by reading any and every book I could on this city (still am). One repetitive theme throughout all of the narratives: The Saints. I remember watching the first Monday Night game the Saints played in the Superdome, post-Katrina but I couldn't get my head around why the game was so important to the city. With all the suffering in the city, homes and lives still "under water" it just seemed juvenile to devote so much energy to a frivolous football game. Then I read 1 Dead in Attic, Chris Rose finally provided the proper perspective on the game - the game was more than a NFL game it was a greater symbol for the rebirth of the city and the people. But still it did not sink in, fully.

As the season approached and as I prepared sermons folk kept telling me how attendance and attention revolved around the Saints schedule. I was arrogant enough to think I knew that in reality not everyone was a Saints fan. So we scheduled a Jazz Brunch in September which also happened to be opening day for the Saints. Although it was pouring down rain outside folk packed the fellowship hall for a wonderful day of worship. I thought hah, the Saints are big, but they aren't that big.

The season progressed, the wins kept coming and the fever kept growing. Sunday attendance was affected, definitely. And I soon realized, yeah they are that big, they are important to the civic life of the this city.

We kept hearing folk say "Who Dat?" I could not, for the life of me, figure out this bizarre saying. It reminded me of the way folk would giggle when I pronounced (slowly) Pahwl-tuck-eht instead of a quick Pah-tuck-eht. I felt so strange, alien, and corny saying Who Dat? Then a parishioner gave me a couple of tickets to a game, I was reluctant to go but did. The VOR and I obtained the services of a sitter, she dressed in black and gold, me in lime green and jeans.

The experience at the game was amazing, liturgical even with the dancing, collective singing, range of emotions, and release of so much hope. The game was a baptism. As The VOR and I rode the street car back home, I knew we made the right decision to move here - as crazy as this place may be!

New Orleans is still a "broken city." Hardship stained schools, libraries not open on Fridays, no recycling, Charity hospital still closed, roads full of potholes, and homes still with the National Guard spray paint "icons." The people are still broken, always on the verge of tears and just looking for something to hold onto for hope and new life. More than anything the Saints fill that need.

Last night after the win the sports and news media focused on the party on Bourbon Street (rightly so, it was amazing to watch the festivities) but folk were celebrating all over the region. In uptown there were fireworks, folk beeping their horns, folk screaming and yelling, and camped out on the neutral ground. The local news said today might as well be a holiday b/c aint nobody going to work today. This morning as I took the kids to school they were right, the streets normally packed with morning commuters, were for the most part, clear.

This morning before #s 1, 2, & 3 said good morning they wanted to know if The Saints won. In a past life and in past times I would resist the temptation to jump on the bandwagon but not now. I admit jumping on, and loving it!

Background articles:
Great ESPN article here from a few weeks ago.
And from the NY Times.

To and Fro, Haiti, and Microhumor

To and Fro.

As some of you may know the VOR and I experimented for a year and a half driving one vehicle. In RI this arrangement worked well. I walked to work (about a 62 step commute) and had easy access to the mystery van (the kids took the bus to school). The demands of my job were not overwhelming and I could work out the xs and os of travel with out much trouble.

Then we moved to New Orleans. It appeared at first that we would be able to keep the same arrangement: between street cars, buses, sidewalks, and my bike it looked liked I could reduce my carbon footprint as a pastor. But an odd thing happened: bigger church = more responsibilities (which I knew but still hard to fully imagine), flat city (great for bicycling) but a humid city (terrible for riding a bicycle in a suit). Catholic school (our best option) no buses (have to transport kids to school). Nevertheless I tried by purchasing a Breezer commuting bike. It was a good purchase and it is a great bike. But all factors considered I needed to purchase an automobile.

I first went to car lots to price the cheapest new cars: somewhere in the vicinity of $13,000-15,000. I just could not justify purchasing a small egg looking auto for that amount of money. So I next researched used cars on the internet. But after a few frustrating hours I said why not craigslist? For I sold two cars, tractors, and other gas powered equipment why not buy a car? First search I found a car and a few days later I had it. It has heated seats (great luxury here in NOLA, no need to ever turn on the heat), and great control. First car ever, nice ride but I do miss the comfort of a truck.

Haiti.
The news from Haiti is horrendous. Some of the rhetoric about Haiti is horrendous. To educate yourself please consult the work of Randall Robinson.

Microhumor.
I have always held the view that microhumor is better than macrohumor. Unfortunately #3 thinks so to! He has taken to removing my bookmarks!

On the Need for Holidays

The other day while doing some research on Christmastide I found a vague reference to the Presentation of Jesus as Candlemas. The more I dug on Candlemas the more I liked about it. The holiday had all of the trappings to entice me: obscurity, long held traditions long since passed, and an official name. For a side note: the choirmaster at SCABC informed that the Chandeleur Islands (barrier islands in Louisiana) were found insert year here _____ on Candlemas.

So I introduced the day to the congregation on Sunday morning and then invited some friends over that afternoon for "Candlemas Cocktails." Why cocktails? On Saturday at the Hollygrove Farm Market I found a basket of "bitter oranges" a product I have been searching for two years for. Why bitter oranges? They are an essential ingredient for a pot of "smoking bishop." Bitter oranges + obscure religious holiday + a need to be with people = Candlemas Cocktails.

Smoking Bishop:

Bake the oranges (low temp, depends on your oven)

After they turn a pale brown remove from the oven and place, stud generously with cloves, and place in a warmed earthenware bowl. Add a bottle of cheap red wine (the recipe calls for Portuguese wine, which I could find easily in RI but not in NOLA, for this batch I used whatever red wine was in the bota box) and a 1/4 cup of sugar. Cover and let rest for overnight and some of the day.

As the party approaches squeeze out the juice from the oranges and discard. (Be sure to remove the cloves if any by-chance sneak into the wine). Pour the contents into a non-reactive pan that you use on the stove top. Bring to a nice warm temperature (do not bring to a boil), then add a bottle of port wine and a 1/2 pint of water (a small glassful should do). Continue to warm, ladle into mugs, and enjoy.

2009 Best of List

The Usuals:

1. Best Non-Fiction Book: Why New Orleans Matters by Tom Piazza (this book created a deep desire to move to New Orleans).

2. Best Fiction Book: Confederacy of Dunces by John Kenndey Toole (this book was so good I had to come see the town for myself. I spent at least a half an hour just on the title).

3. Best Children's Book: Who Needs Donuts by Mark Alan Staymay (I took this to #2's class and read it, man was it a hit! I had a blast reading it and they had a blast listening to me read it and looking at the pictures).

4. Best Meal: Going Away Meal at Nancy's. Afterwards me and four other men sat in Adirondack chairs, drank single malts and smoked cigars - it was really something.

5. Best Worship Service: My last Sunday at Lime Rock Baptist, it was unbelievable - the best goodbye of all time (folk are still talking about it).

6. Best CD: Jazz from the Soul of New Orleans by Dr. Michael White.

7. Best LP: The Holy Land by Johnny Cash (I have been looking for this for a couple of years and just found it last week. I also wonder how great the heart attack would be if I asked the choirmaster and organist to have the choir sing He Turned the Water into Wine.)

The Not So Usuals

1. Best Moments as a Father. The first two are closely related. #1 informed her music teacher that her father played the violin - then she volunteered me to come to her class and play. Even though on my best days I am an advanced beginner, I thought okay I'll do it. As I entered the school the secretary casually told me how the music teacher was going to teach her violin. She then casually told me that the music teacher is second chair flutist in the symphony. I about died. I only wish I could have taken pictures of the music teachers face as she winced when I played the notes wrong. Last week #2 informed his class that he was not a Saints fan, he was a New England Patriots fan. The kids started to tease him but the teacher jumped in to assuage the situation. #1 then confided to his teacher that I played for the Red Dragons. In his mind the fact that I played high school football was the same as playing in the NFL. And of course the daily rounds of "tickle time mania."

2. Best Moment as a Husband. An after dinner walk with the VOR around downtown Providence shortly before we left. We held hands looking at the water, the skyline, Le Reve, The Man in the Water. Then I grabbed her tight and kissed her. It was pure bliss.

3. Hardest "thing" to depart with: My Gravely tractors - man that was difficult. Non-things: fiddle class, lunches and hanging out with Darin, five o'clock Scotch with Raymond, laughing with Joe, messing with the SEVN, spying on my neighbor Kevin, and time spent at the Providence based office.

4. Funniest Moment from Craigslist: when a person named Scout came to buy our Davenport. After looking the piece of furniture over she put her face down in the cushion, took a gigantic whiff, then came up and said when you buy a couch it is all in the cushions. How the VOR and I held it together I have no idea.

5. Best Facebook Moment: after I read a NY Times article that one can only keep up with about 100 friends I went through and purged my friend list, (this was before I knew about the "Hide" button). Since then one person has tried to refriend me five times. I know this person is just a facebook harlot, the person has something like 500 friends or something like that. I cannot recall my ever saying one word to this person.

6. Best New Beer Discovery: Red Stripe. For whatever reason I never tried it. After I saw Henry Louis Gates, Jr. drinking one with Obama I thought hmmm I may give it a try. What a great beer.

7. Oddest Occurence: the vendor in Rouses (like a Kroger's for those in WV, or a Wegmans for those in upstate NY or like a Stop-n-Shop for those in RI) who offered me a Rum and Coke sample, at 10:00am. Of course I accepted it, without the Coke.

8. Most Bizarre Pastoral Moment: one day, shortly after arriving in New Orleans, I went to visit a parishioner. Since this person only lived a few blocks from the church I decided to walk. Being new to the city I had yet to fully appreciated the ramifications of tropical humidity and how dangerous it would be to not wear an undershirt. The walk was a little further than I imagined it would be. As I cut through Audubon Park I knew I was in trouble and saw spots developing all over my shirt. I thought if I took off my tie and unbuttoned my shirt I would be okay. Needless to say I was wrong. I arrived at the parishioner's house looking like I had ran back and forth through a sprinkler about ten times. The parishioner offered to take my shirt and put it in the dryer. I contemplated this but thought it a little odd to be sitting in a new parishioner's living room topless. My initial fear was quickly subdued when the parishioner offered me another shirt to wear while the other dried. I simply sat in front of a fan and within a half hour or forty-five minutes I had partially dried out.