This letter to the editor was published in the Times Picayune.
"Once again our mouths are foaming because we can't take it when some "outsider" (at Newsweek, no less) recites facts about New Orleans.
The Newsweek article didn't slam New Orleans for its lack of new industry, an inability to attract Fortune 500 companies, or a lack of professional opportunities. The survey cited facts about population decline and a lack of young people.
Ranting and raving about this just reinforces stereotypes: We are 20 years behind the times; we can't face our own problems; we are a city full of incompetent characters, our best days are behind us.
Perhaps the key is to accept the facts and embrace them. Truth is, the rest of America isn't exactly prospering.
To be a dying city in a dying country actually makes us a loss leader for once. And nobody lives while dying as well as we do. Our food, our family, our joy of life have made us one of the happiest people in America -- even in the face of disaster.
I live in a place where my family and friends know how to live. Perhaps America should come here to see how to enjoy dying. We'll show them a jazz funeral.
Morgan Molthrop
New Orleans
Thank you Morgan.
Also see this article "City gets a mixed bag of publicity"
Saturday February 19, 2011 By Michelle Krupa Staff writer
Monday, February 28, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Lip Service
New Orleans Cred
by Chris Rose
What's in a kiss? History tells us it is the mark of love, faith, friendship, respect — even betrayal.
So: What's that got to do with anything?
This: I think I speak for many non-natives of New Orleans when I suggest the longer we stay here, the more we look for affirmation that this is where we fit in, this is where we belong, this is where ... we are from.
Yes, even after 25 years here. And that alone is one of the great things about this town: how she continues, over the decades, to reveal herself to you, how she continues to amaze and delight. (OK, frustrate and madden at times, too — but that's not today's story.)
New Orleans cred manifests itself in many ways, from the obvious to the sublime: When you hang your first Mardi Gras beads over your rear view mirror; when you finally grow comfortable ordering a sandwich "dressed"; for that matter, when you stop calling it a sandwich.
You think purple, green and gold actually look good together. In fact, due to the unyielding force of cultural brainwashing, you begin to identify the color yellow as gold. And purple comes in two shades: K&B purple ... and not.
Other ways: You learn how to pronounce Natchitoches, Picayune, Soileau and Oubre. You stop using your automobile turn signals. Your male cab driver calls you "babe." You think Angus Lind is funny. (OK, this one takes a long time, but it happens. Eventually.)
The longer you're here, the more subtle the indications become. I had one of those the other day. It was a kiss that gave me a touch of reaffirmation, a notion that I am not only "from" New Orleans, but "of" New Orleans.
Yes, after 25 years, it still matters.
I had an encounter that began with a buss on the cheek and, when it was over, as I drove away from the incident, I laughed out loud about it, all alone in my car. ("Another sign of New Orleans-ness?").
Maybe I make this out to be more than it was. In fact, as I tell you the story, it seems very anticlimactic; it was such a small, teeny-tiny thing, a non-event, unspectacular, lacking drama and mystery. I kissed my mail carrier.
Well, she's not actually my mail carrier anymore. Michelle is my former mail carrier, from many, many years ago, pre-storm and all that.
I hadn't seen her in ages. She was always so kind, always filled with cheer, always asking about my kids, always delivering not just mail, but a pleasant interlude no matter the weather or anything else.
So, when I saw her walking down a street a few neighborhoods over from mine, I hit the brake, rolled down the window and called her name. I got out of the car and we walked up to each other and kissed each other on the cheek and proceeded to make small fusses over each other.
Like I said, not a lot to it, really. Other than this:
I have lived in two other places, Wisconsin and Maryland, and I cannot for the life of me ever imagine walking up to a mail carrier and planting a wet one on her (or his!) cheek. The act seems to violate so many tenets of personal space, propriety and all the other social restrictions folks in other places burden themselves with but which we tend to casually disregard in these parts.
In review, perhaps I am wont to read too much into things. But, in many ways, it is my job.
For the past quarter century, one of my primary means of employment has been to write love letters to New Orleans. The primary means to do this, is to overstate the implications of almost everything — the slightest of local gestures, colloquialisms and traditions — and blow them into metaphors that speak to the wondrous, peerless, unparalleled uniqueness of this town.
I'll be the first to admit: It can be toxically overwrought, cloying to the point of ennui. Does everything — everything — that happens around here have to speak to cultural significance? More to the point: Can't a kiss just be a kiss?
Well ... no, in fact, it can't. And maybe I'm blowing this brief incident completely out of proportion, once again getting myself all caught up in the New Orleans self-love thing. Maybe I am reading too much into a kiss.
History tells me I wouldn't be the first to do such a thing.
by Chris Rose
What's in a kiss? History tells us it is the mark of love, faith, friendship, respect — even betrayal.
So: What's that got to do with anything?
This: I think I speak for many non-natives of New Orleans when I suggest the longer we stay here, the more we look for affirmation that this is where we fit in, this is where we belong, this is where ... we are from.
Yes, even after 25 years here. And that alone is one of the great things about this town: how she continues, over the decades, to reveal herself to you, how she continues to amaze and delight. (OK, frustrate and madden at times, too — but that's not today's story.)
New Orleans cred manifests itself in many ways, from the obvious to the sublime: When you hang your first Mardi Gras beads over your rear view mirror; when you finally grow comfortable ordering a sandwich "dressed"; for that matter, when you stop calling it a sandwich.
You think purple, green and gold actually look good together. In fact, due to the unyielding force of cultural brainwashing, you begin to identify the color yellow as gold. And purple comes in two shades: K&B purple ... and not.
Other ways: You learn how to pronounce Natchitoches, Picayune, Soileau and Oubre. You stop using your automobile turn signals. Your male cab driver calls you "babe." You think Angus Lind is funny. (OK, this one takes a long time, but it happens. Eventually.)
The longer you're here, the more subtle the indications become. I had one of those the other day. It was a kiss that gave me a touch of reaffirmation, a notion that I am not only "from" New Orleans, but "of" New Orleans.
Yes, after 25 years, it still matters.
I had an encounter that began with a buss on the cheek and, when it was over, as I drove away from the incident, I laughed out loud about it, all alone in my car. ("Another sign of New Orleans-ness?").
Maybe I make this out to be more than it was. In fact, as I tell you the story, it seems very anticlimactic; it was such a small, teeny-tiny thing, a non-event, unspectacular, lacking drama and mystery. I kissed my mail carrier.
Well, she's not actually my mail carrier anymore. Michelle is my former mail carrier, from many, many years ago, pre-storm and all that.
I hadn't seen her in ages. She was always so kind, always filled with cheer, always asking about my kids, always delivering not just mail, but a pleasant interlude no matter the weather or anything else.
So, when I saw her walking down a street a few neighborhoods over from mine, I hit the brake, rolled down the window and called her name. I got out of the car and we walked up to each other and kissed each other on the cheek and proceeded to make small fusses over each other.
Like I said, not a lot to it, really. Other than this:
I have lived in two other places, Wisconsin and Maryland, and I cannot for the life of me ever imagine walking up to a mail carrier and planting a wet one on her (or his!) cheek. The act seems to violate so many tenets of personal space, propriety and all the other social restrictions folks in other places burden themselves with but which we tend to casually disregard in these parts.
In review, perhaps I am wont to read too much into things. But, in many ways, it is my job.
For the past quarter century, one of my primary means of employment has been to write love letters to New Orleans. The primary means to do this, is to overstate the implications of almost everything — the slightest of local gestures, colloquialisms and traditions — and blow them into metaphors that speak to the wondrous, peerless, unparalleled uniqueness of this town.
I'll be the first to admit: It can be toxically overwrought, cloying to the point of ennui. Does everything — everything — that happens around here have to speak to cultural significance? More to the point: Can't a kiss just be a kiss?
Well ... no, in fact, it can't. And maybe I'm blowing this brief incident completely out of proportion, once again getting myself all caught up in the New Orleans self-love thing. Maybe I am reading too much into a kiss.
History tells me I wouldn't be the first to do such a thing.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Link - February in Ancient Rome
See La Vecchia Credenza On Line Feburary in Ancient Rome
FEBRUARY IS UPON US, birth month of great presidents and martyrs, and for lovers around the world, the month of Saint Valentine’s Day. While births of martyrs and presidents may be mere coincidence of time, not so the celebration of love. To explicate the matter, one must search to the very foundations of ancient Rome. When Rome was first founded, wild and bloodthirsty wolves roamed the woods around the city. They often attacked and mauled and even devoured Roman citizens. With characteristic ingenuity, the Romans begged the god Lupercus to keep the wolves away. Lupercus was the god of the wolves, so he was expected to have some influence on their behavior.
This tale begins when Numitor, king of the city of Alba Longa, was ousted by his brother, Amulius. Numitor had a daughter, Rhea Silvia. His wicked brother had her made a vestal virgin to prevent her bearing any offspring with a right to the throne. Mars, the god of war, had his way with her anyway, and she bore twin sons, Romulus and Remus. Afraid of these half-god twins, Amulius cast them into the flooded Tiber River in a basket and set them adrift. They were found by a mother wolf who suckled and nurtured them as her own pups. Later they were found and raised by shepherds, who were grateful for the seeming immunity to wolf attacks on their flocks and the resulting fecundity of the sheep. The shepherds rightly gave thanks to the god Lupercus, protctor of flocks against wolves.
Still later, Romulus and Remus led a shepherd revolt against Amulius and slew him, restoring the throne to their grandfather. They then decided to build their own city, but Romulus quarreled with his brother over petty issues regarding the size of the walls, and killed him in the resulting fight. Thus the city was named Rome over the remaining twin.
As a rite of spring and the oncoming fertility brought to all of nature, the early Romans chose February 15th as a proper day to honor Lupercus, Faunus, and other gods and goddesses of fertility and protection. The ritual was named Lupercalia and involved two naked young men slaughtering a dog (symbolic wolf?) and a goat.
In addition to the blood sacrifice, vestal virgins affixed cakes of grain from the previous year’s harvest to the very fig tree believed to be the spot where Romulus and Remus were suckled by the she-wolf. The naked young men were ritually smeared with the blood of sacrifice, then wiped clean with milk-drenched wool. Our symbolic Romulus and Remus then donned loincloths made from the skins and ran about the altar and into the city. The young women of the city proffered their flesh to the young men as they passed, for which they were lightly lashed with goatskin flails made from the sacrificial goat. These whips were named “februa”, and give us the name of our current month. The lashing ostensibly promoted great fertility among the women and it was a joyous moment when the goatskin struck their flesh.
As the years passed and The Roman Empire adopted Christianity, the Pope, in 494 AD transformed Lupercalia into the feast of the Purification of The Virgin Mary, trying to water down the still immensely popular holiday with Christian virtue.
In another of early Christianity’s veiled attempts to embrace the flesh, a certain Saint Valentine was lionized, having his day tied to the former Lupercalia by establishing it the day before, on February 14th. There are three equally likely candidates for the honor of being the original saint, who was either deeply in love with one of his female converts, or very compassionate towards young lovers at a time when such latitude for anything sexual was vehemently forbidden by the church.
In any event, the supernatural fertility of The Virgin Mary and the terrestrial fertility of young lovers around the Christian world are now inextricably linked by having their feast days so joined. So, share some goat’s milk along with the chocolate as you woo your lover on Valentine’s Day.
…and maybe howl like a wolf and give them a few lashes while you’re at it.
FEBRUARY IS UPON US, birth month of great presidents and martyrs, and for lovers around the world, the month of Saint Valentine’s Day. While births of martyrs and presidents may be mere coincidence of time, not so the celebration of love. To explicate the matter, one must search to the very foundations of ancient Rome. When Rome was first founded, wild and bloodthirsty wolves roamed the woods around the city. They often attacked and mauled and even devoured Roman citizens. With characteristic ingenuity, the Romans begged the god Lupercus to keep the wolves away. Lupercus was the god of the wolves, so he was expected to have some influence on their behavior.
This tale begins when Numitor, king of the city of Alba Longa, was ousted by his brother, Amulius. Numitor had a daughter, Rhea Silvia. His wicked brother had her made a vestal virgin to prevent her bearing any offspring with a right to the throne. Mars, the god of war, had his way with her anyway, and she bore twin sons, Romulus and Remus. Afraid of these half-god twins, Amulius cast them into the flooded Tiber River in a basket and set them adrift. They were found by a mother wolf who suckled and nurtured them as her own pups. Later they were found and raised by shepherds, who were grateful for the seeming immunity to wolf attacks on their flocks and the resulting fecundity of the sheep. The shepherds rightly gave thanks to the god Lupercus, protctor of flocks against wolves.
Still later, Romulus and Remus led a shepherd revolt against Amulius and slew him, restoring the throne to their grandfather. They then decided to build their own city, but Romulus quarreled with his brother over petty issues regarding the size of the walls, and killed him in the resulting fight. Thus the city was named Rome over the remaining twin.
As a rite of spring and the oncoming fertility brought to all of nature, the early Romans chose February 15th as a proper day to honor Lupercus, Faunus, and other gods and goddesses of fertility and protection. The ritual was named Lupercalia and involved two naked young men slaughtering a dog (symbolic wolf?) and a goat.
In addition to the blood sacrifice, vestal virgins affixed cakes of grain from the previous year’s harvest to the very fig tree believed to be the spot where Romulus and Remus were suckled by the she-wolf. The naked young men were ritually smeared with the blood of sacrifice, then wiped clean with milk-drenched wool. Our symbolic Romulus and Remus then donned loincloths made from the skins and ran about the altar and into the city. The young women of the city proffered their flesh to the young men as they passed, for which they were lightly lashed with goatskin flails made from the sacrificial goat. These whips were named “februa”, and give us the name of our current month. The lashing ostensibly promoted great fertility among the women and it was a joyous moment when the goatskin struck their flesh.
As the years passed and The Roman Empire adopted Christianity, the Pope, in 494 AD transformed Lupercalia into the feast of the Purification of The Virgin Mary, trying to water down the still immensely popular holiday with Christian virtue.
In another of early Christianity’s veiled attempts to embrace the flesh, a certain Saint Valentine was lionized, having his day tied to the former Lupercalia by establishing it the day before, on February 14th. There are three equally likely candidates for the honor of being the original saint, who was either deeply in love with one of his female converts, or very compassionate towards young lovers at a time when such latitude for anything sexual was vehemently forbidden by the church.
In any event, the supernatural fertility of The Virgin Mary and the terrestrial fertility of young lovers around the Christian world are now inextricably linked by having their feast days so joined. So, share some goat’s milk along with the chocolate as you woo your lover on Valentine’s Day.
…and maybe howl like a wolf and give them a few lashes while you’re at it.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Link - An Ancient Etruscan Love Spell
See La Vecchia Credenza On Line An Ancient Etruscan Love Spell
Some people will do anything for love. Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’ died for it. Wars have been fought in its name, kingdoms have been won or lost on its account, and many a family has been either blessed or cursed because of a union of love. The ancient Etruscans certainly went through a lot of trouble to find that perfect mate. Last night, I had dinner with a couple who have been unbelievably happy together for as long as I’ve known them. After almost thirty years, they still behave like newlyweds and have shown a bond of trust and caring that is seldom seen these days. When I had the opportunity, I asked if they had a secret.
The happy gentleman said the secret was to be lucky enough to find a woman as kind, loving and courageous as his wife, which he simply attributed to chance. His wife remained silent (at least until I got her alone while her husband was hailing a taxi).
I repeated my question to her alone this time, hoping to hear something really juicy – perhaps a tale of a wild and twisted affair with an exotic bohemian paramour, much like Harold Pinter wrote about in his extraordinary play, “The Lover”. Instead, she said she would email me in the morning with her secret which she has been silent about since she discovered it.
Early this morning, the email arrived. “The secret” was an ancient Etruscan spell designed to attract the perfect mate, which had been updated first in the 18th century and later in the early 20th by her own grandmother. She swears that this ‘love spell’ really worked, and has never shared it with anyone, including her husband. Today, I share it with you.
The origins of this love spell are obscure, but there is a litany in archaic Italian of which I have provided an English translation. It is a ritual that requires a bit of effort and a lot of herbal materials as well as a profound belief in its success. Otherwise (according to my friend), its nothing more than empty words. The materials can be obtained readily in any food store, herb market or metaphysical supply store.
The courage to actually do this? Thats up to you….
Materials:
Frankincense incense (stick or resin)
Herbal Mixture:
3 parts lavender
3 parts damiana
3 parts patchouly
1 part Dragon’s blood resin
13 gardenia petals
4 parts red clover
3 Saw Palmetto Berries
3 parts peppermint
3 parts Rue
13 drops of your favorite perfume
Mortar and Pestle (for grinding herbs)
Small red drawstring bag or square of red fabric with red thread or cord
THE SPELL
Prepare space to work in by making sure the area is clean and the floors swept. Meditate on power, success and love, and begin by slowly grinding the herbs in a clockwise movement in the mortar and pestle. Do not add the oils at this time. Stirring the herbs in a clockwise direction with your finger, slowly add the oil mixture until it is well blended. Hold the bowl in your hand and enchant with the words:
Diana, bella Diana!
Che tanto bella e buona siei,
E tanto ti e piacere
Ti ho fatto,
Anche a te di fare al amore,
Dunque spero che anche in questa cosa
Tu mi voglia aiutare,
E se tu vorrai
Tutto tu portrai,
Se questa grazia mi vorrai fare:
Chiamerai tua figlia Aradia,
Al letto della bella fanciulla
La mandera Aradia,
La fanciulla in una canina cinertira,
Alla camera mia la mandera,
Ma entrate in camera mia,
Non sara piu una canina,
Ma tornera una bella fanciulla,
Bella cane era prima,
E cosi potro fare al amore
A mio piacimento,
Come a me piacera.
Quando mi saro divertito
A mi piacere diro.
“Per volere della Fata Diana,
E di sua figlia Aradia,
Torna una canina
Come tu ere prima!”
TRANSLATION:
Diana, beautiful Diana
Who art indeed as good as beautiful
By all the worship I have given thee
and all the joy of love which thou hast known
I do implore thee aid me in my love!
What thou wilt is true
Thou canst ever do
And if the grace I seek thou’ll grant to me,
Then call, I pray, thy daughter Aradia,
and send her to the bedside of the man/woman
And give that man/woman the likeness of a dog
and make him/her then come to me in my room
but when he/she once has entered it, I pray
that he/she may re-assume her human form
as beautiful as ever he/she was before
and may I then make love to him/her until
our souls with joy are fully satisfied
Then by the aid of the great Faery Queen
and of her daughter, fair Aradia
may he/she be turned into a dog again
and then to human form as once before
Draw a bath, and light fresh incense. Place the herbal/oil mixture into the red bag, or tie it up in the red cloth spuare. Submerge it into the bath water, and let it steep while you inhale the incense and focus on your desire. Enter the bath slowly, feeling the tingling of the bath on your entire body as you do. Take a deep breath, filling your lungs to capacity, and submerge yourself completely under the water. While underwater, exhale all of the air completely out of your lungs, and visualize any obstacles in the way of your success with this spell leaving your body with the air. Do this three times. Let the water run out of the tub while you are lying in it, and do not get out until all of the water has drained. Let your body dry naturally; do not use a towel. When your body is completely dry, dress yourself and apply your favorite fragrance that was used in the herbal mixture. Leave your home and go out for the evening. Within 28 days, you will have attracted attract the perfect lover.
Some people will do anything for love. Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’ died for it. Wars have been fought in its name, kingdoms have been won or lost on its account, and many a family has been either blessed or cursed because of a union of love. The ancient Etruscans certainly went through a lot of trouble to find that perfect mate. Last night, I had dinner with a couple who have been unbelievably happy together for as long as I’ve known them. After almost thirty years, they still behave like newlyweds and have shown a bond of trust and caring that is seldom seen these days. When I had the opportunity, I asked if they had a secret.
The happy gentleman said the secret was to be lucky enough to find a woman as kind, loving and courageous as his wife, which he simply attributed to chance. His wife remained silent (at least until I got her alone while her husband was hailing a taxi).
I repeated my question to her alone this time, hoping to hear something really juicy – perhaps a tale of a wild and twisted affair with an exotic bohemian paramour, much like Harold Pinter wrote about in his extraordinary play, “The Lover”. Instead, she said she would email me in the morning with her secret which she has been silent about since she discovered it.
Early this morning, the email arrived. “The secret” was an ancient Etruscan spell designed to attract the perfect mate, which had been updated first in the 18th century and later in the early 20th by her own grandmother. She swears that this ‘love spell’ really worked, and has never shared it with anyone, including her husband. Today, I share it with you.
The origins of this love spell are obscure, but there is a litany in archaic Italian of which I have provided an English translation. It is a ritual that requires a bit of effort and a lot of herbal materials as well as a profound belief in its success. Otherwise (according to my friend), its nothing more than empty words. The materials can be obtained readily in any food store, herb market or metaphysical supply store.
The courage to actually do this? Thats up to you….
Materials:
Frankincense incense (stick or resin)
Herbal Mixture:
3 parts lavender
3 parts damiana
3 parts patchouly
1 part Dragon’s blood resin
13 gardenia petals
4 parts red clover
3 Saw Palmetto Berries
3 parts peppermint
3 parts Rue
13 drops of your favorite perfume
Mortar and Pestle (for grinding herbs)
Small red drawstring bag or square of red fabric with red thread or cord
THE SPELL
Prepare space to work in by making sure the area is clean and the floors swept. Meditate on power, success and love, and begin by slowly grinding the herbs in a clockwise movement in the mortar and pestle. Do not add the oils at this time. Stirring the herbs in a clockwise direction with your finger, slowly add the oil mixture until it is well blended. Hold the bowl in your hand and enchant with the words:
Diana, bella Diana!
Che tanto bella e buona siei,
E tanto ti e piacere
Ti ho fatto,
Anche a te di fare al amore,
Dunque spero che anche in questa cosa
Tu mi voglia aiutare,
E se tu vorrai
Tutto tu portrai,
Se questa grazia mi vorrai fare:
Chiamerai tua figlia Aradia,
Al letto della bella fanciulla
La mandera Aradia,
La fanciulla in una canina cinertira,
Alla camera mia la mandera,
Ma entrate in camera mia,
Non sara piu una canina,
Ma tornera una bella fanciulla,
Bella cane era prima,
E cosi potro fare al amore
A mio piacimento,
Come a me piacera.
Quando mi saro divertito
A mi piacere diro.
“Per volere della Fata Diana,
E di sua figlia Aradia,
Torna una canina
Come tu ere prima!”
TRANSLATION:
Diana, beautiful Diana
Who art indeed as good as beautiful
By all the worship I have given thee
and all the joy of love which thou hast known
I do implore thee aid me in my love!
What thou wilt is true
Thou canst ever do
And if the grace I seek thou’ll grant to me,
Then call, I pray, thy daughter Aradia,
and send her to the bedside of the man/woman
And give that man/woman the likeness of a dog
and make him/her then come to me in my room
but when he/she once has entered it, I pray
that he/she may re-assume her human form
as beautiful as ever he/she was before
and may I then make love to him/her until
our souls with joy are fully satisfied
Then by the aid of the great Faery Queen
and of her daughter, fair Aradia
may he/she be turned into a dog again
and then to human form as once before
Draw a bath, and light fresh incense. Place the herbal/oil mixture into the red bag, or tie it up in the red cloth spuare. Submerge it into the bath water, and let it steep while you inhale the incense and focus on your desire. Enter the bath slowly, feeling the tingling of the bath on your entire body as you do. Take a deep breath, filling your lungs to capacity, and submerge yourself completely under the water. While underwater, exhale all of the air completely out of your lungs, and visualize any obstacles in the way of your success with this spell leaving your body with the air. Do this three times. Let the water run out of the tub while you are lying in it, and do not get out until all of the water has drained. Let your body dry naturally; do not use a towel. When your body is completely dry, dress yourself and apply your favorite fragrance that was used in the herbal mixture. Leave your home and go out for the evening. Within 28 days, you will have attracted attract the perfect lover.
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