What Will You Do After Purple?

Along with countless assorted friends, family and acquaintances, I am wearing purple today. We are showing our unity, striving to be a vibrant, visible sign to those out there who’re struggling to just get through high school, to get through life – at a time when so much of the world is confronting them with the worst it has to offer.

Thanks to the efforts by the folks at the It Gets Better Project, many people are sharing their stories – true stories that often start in pain, yet end in joy and beauty. Tomorrow, after you take off your purple and put it away, you still have a job to do: Share your stories. You may not be gay or ever have been bullied, but I know you have a story to tell that will help someone out there. It’s time for us to reach out.

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It didn’t take a genius to figure me out in high school. Let’s see, I was in Band, Orchestra, and Choir. I was Drum Major in the Marching Band. Not only was I in plays and musicals IN school, but I also performed with the local community players. Then there was Student Council, Scholastic Quiz Bowl, Forensics Team, and Computer Club. I was so uptight, I practically squeaked when I walked. (Oh, and a B- was nearly the end of the world…)

I knew I wasn’t like my friends, and I’d known that all my life. At 14, I finally found the words to say it to myself, and did what I considered a very brave act. I had a cassette tape recorder – some of you may have to Google that – and every now and then, I’d record the following …and then “pretend” to forget that it was on there.

“I am gay. What am I going to do about it? ...........Nothing…”

Of course, I never did forget to erase it; it was just a stupid game. Stupid, but somehow it got me through. Even if it wasn’t truly brave, it felt brave to me – and that’s all that mattered. This was the early 1980s in very rural Northern New York State; being gay was NOT something you talked about with anyone, except as crude locker room jokes at the expense of others.

Sure enough, I got called every imaginable name in high school, and sure enough, it hurt like hell. But somehow, I managed to hold onto hope and the knowledge that someday - not too far in the future – I’d be able to get on with life. (College isn’t perfect, but it’s a hell of a lot better than high school!)

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Thanks to the incredible outpouring from breathtakingly fabulous people, YouTube is now packed with hundreds of stories of survival, of anguish and support and love and friendship. Rather than dwelling on just how awful high school is, there are some essential things we need you to know.

It gets better. I know it must seem cliché now, but I have to tell you – looking back, I could never have hoped that life would turn out this well. There will be wonderful, deep abiding friendships that last longer than you’ve been alive so far. You’ll make mistakes, you’ll be terrified of admitting you need someone to lean on, and you’ll be wildly passionate about a hundred different causes. You’ll visit places where you’ll feel truly, madly, deeply at home in a way that you may never be able to articulate to anyone. Some of your friends will become the best family you could ever imagine – and some of your family will become your most ardent supporters. And you’ll find your own way of getting through.

Oh…and there will be love. You’ll fall in love – and you’ll get your heart broken. And you’ll fall in love again. And along the way, you’ll find out how remarkable it is to love and to be loved, just for being you.

So, hold on. Be here for the good stuff. Be truly you. Stick around and see how much better it gets. No one’s promising that it won’t suck along the way, and no one’s saying that life as an adult is a piece of cake; just remember that we’re out here – and we are LIVING proof that life gets so much better.

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So, to all of us: tomorrow, we might not be wearing purple, but we need to, must carry this feeling with us. There is no wrong time to reach out. There is no bad time to let others know you care. Share your struggles and triumphs. Be a good friend and a great example. Let your children catch you doing good things. Dream big and dare to love. Open your minds to a world that is better today than it was yesterday, but not as great as it will be tomorrow.

And be there, so these kids can be here to see that it gets so much better.

Walking, Soles United!

Yesterday, we held our SideWALK Sale to raise funds for our NO/AIDS WALK team, Soles United.

There was only a 70% chance of rain...but it had been raining pretty much all the time, every day for that last 10 days. This had us concerned.

I got up and walked the dog around 6:30am and to my surprise, there was actually a sunrise. You know, one that you could see.

OK...so far so good.

We managed to set up in time for the early birds - and 9am, we still had decent weather. We had mixed clouds and sun for the next 2 hours.

And. Then.

Well...it only started to sprinkle. And then stop. And then sprinkle again.

And around 11:20, it start seriously drizzling and we decided to pack it in. (We were set up under the eaves of the condo building, which is further shelter by an ancient live oak tree.)

Um...We weren't counting on the electricity.

You know, the natural kind?

There was thunder and lightning the likes of which we've not seen in at least 5 years here. At one point the storm was overhead, the flashes and booms nearly simultaneous and I thought to myself, this is not the time to be carrying this metal headboard back in the house.

So, we succeeded in packing up the last of the unsold items without getting struck by lightning - a little sore and wet, but alive. For a rainy Sunday morning, during church time and one the morning of the first Saints game of the season (a home game, no less!), we did OK.

So, we are down to the last of it - we'll be carousing the French Quarter this Friday and Saturday evening, twisting arms and adding to the coffers for our Walk Team. Our team is doing well this year, but as in years past, I have my own very personal reasons for Walking.

Having been the recipient of their services in the past, I do what I can to help support the NO/AIDS Task Force. I know many of the wonderful folks who work there - and count a lot of them as friends. If you can and wish to support this cause, you can check out my personal pledge page here. Any donations you are able to give - $5, $10 - anything - is more than they had before.

And from me...thank you.

Anyway, next Sunday is the NO/AIDS WALK - if you are in the New Orleans area and want to show your support, come on down to Audubon Park before the kick off at 10AM. It's always a lot of fun and it's for an incredibly important cause.

To Read Again...and to Write

I am attempting to get back at this.

I tried to write a post to Facebook as a means of acknowledging the 4th anniversary of Katrina, only to hit a wall. It wasn't that I was overcome with inexpressible emotion. Rather, I knew that what I wanted to say had already been said a couple years ago on this blog.

So, I started the daunting task of combing through the archives, looking for the exact post.

And, not surprisingly, I wound up re-reading them.

All. Of. Them.

It did not - this time, surprisingly - reduce me to tears. Instead, it was rather cathartic and, in its own way, encouraging.

I'd forgotten I could write.

I mean, Write.

There are posts that I remember laboring over and others that I know tumbled out of me in some trance-like state...and I love them all.

I'd forgotten how much of my soul I'd laid bare for all the world to see (sort of).

I'd forgotten some of how to find the humor in despair.

I'd forgotten why I'd started blogging in the first place.

There are stories to tell and demons to exorcise. And it's time to start telling the stories...mine, others, as many as I can bear. And I am not talking about just the Katrina stories...more, the real deal in New Orleans.

So, here's where we start:

One thing that was most important for me to learn in the days, weeks, and months in the still-holding-our-breath-after-Katrina period is this...that experience distilled the people I knew to their most basic elements. It was most apparent in the people closest to me - good became better; not so good folks crapped out.

The subtler transformation was in the people more toward the periphery of my life. Some folks of whom I'd thought less well of, perhaps a bit too dismissively, spectaculary rose the occasion and became more their true selves. And others, of whom I'd had a fairly good opinion or at least always given the benefit of the doubt, showed their true colors and revealed what selfish, self-serving gits they really are.

It's been quite an education and at times a struggle. It's seldom easy to acknowledge that some people are - after all is said and done - toxic to your life and future.

Letting them go is hell.

To balance the other end of the spectrum, I am infinitely grateful for the newer friends, the deepened relationships and the life that I have now. Not all things that came out of Katrina were/are bad.

It's just that sometimes, you really have to sit down and look at it a little closer that is comfortable.

And just let go.

And breathe.

Soles United - Time to Walk Again!

We're at it again.

Soles United has started up - that's the name of our NO/AIDS Walk team, a group of friends and co-workers from around the New Orleans area who've walked together since 2006. We've done well in our efforts, landing in the top 5 teams for the last couple years. Not bad for 6 or 7 of us.

The NO/AIDS Walk helps raise funds for the NO/AIDS Task Force - and 2009 is the 20th Anniversary of the NO/AIDS Walk! The event helps support the programs and services of NO/AIDS Task Force, the oldest AIDS service organization in the Gulf South. NO/AIDS has been serving the greater New Orleans area for 25 years. In addition, through the Walk Share grant program, donations also benefit other agencies across Louisiana.

In honor of this 20th Anniversary, I've created a set of 20 of my favorite photos that I've posted for sale. All proceeds from the sale of these photos will go directly to our Walk Team, Soles United.

So, stop on by my SmugMug site, Ambassador Images and check out the pics - if you see something you like, know that your purchase will go directly to helping the NO/AIDS Task Force. (Also, the copyright watermark only appears online and won't be on any photos you order.)

Nine weeks from today, we'll be taking to the streets again - if you'd like to sponsor me directly, you can visit my page at the 2009 Walk site. Even better than that, you can start your own team and join us on Sunday, September 20 - hope to see you out there!

Thank you for being part of this event!!

South Carolina Time Warps

There are occasions when time seems to slow to a crawl.

Recently, in Charleston, time broadened and deepened to all SMID and I the opportunity just to be.

It felt as though the universe was allowing us all the time in the world to go here, see that, take thousand photographs (literally) and still have the luxury of sitting in a swank lounge, sipping Mint Juleps.

There were very few things on our must-do list that we didn't get to, plus many others we weren't planning on. At times, when we needed something - like the right place to have a bite to eat when we had planned that exactingly - it simply appeared. Like the fabulous rooftop bar at the Market Pavillion Hotel on our first night in town.

We spent what seemed like half a day in the Unitarian Universalist Cemetery...only to walk out and discover, much like leaving Narnia, that no time had passed at all. Seemingly.

Sadly, now that we are back in the real world, time has sped back up - and in some ways, it seems to be going even fast than before SC, in the sole attempt to make up for those blessed few days.

Please, let's do the Time Warp again.

Utter Bravery

Donnie was not a close personal friend, but I feel this loss deeply. He is an icon of a time that this generation of young gay people don't know or understand.

It is on the shoulders of Donnie Jay and many men and women like him that we stand now, able to look the world straight in the eye - so to speak - and demand to be treated like equals. There are things that Donnie had seen in his lifetime that I cannot begin to comprehend.

Always the consummate entertainer, Donnie did some of the most hilarious (and at times, hilariously inappropriate and dreadful!) drag - even after losing half his foot due to diabetes. I heard him once quip that he was headed out on the town to "kick up his heel"...

And he just didn't care what the world thought - he is the personification of Stephen Sondheim's stunning "I'm Still Here" from Follies, but that's not the song I associated with his passing last week.

There are many definitions of bravery, and exponentially more quotes about it too...I found this one via Google, and didn't know the author's names so I googled that too. There's something deliciously fitting, and somewhat campy in the way that would tickle Donnie Jay - it's from Meg Cabot, author of the Princess Diaries.

“Courage is not the absence of fear but the judgment that something else is more important than fear. The brave may not live forever but the cautious do not live at all. For now you are traveling the road between who you think you are and who you can be."

Meg Cabot

Donnie Jay knew who he was - and lived and lived and lived. And the world is a little dimmer without his light. And here's what I have had playing in my head since hearing of his passing: George Hearn, and no other, singing "I Am What I Am" from La Cage Aux Folles.

Singular Saturday - Valentine's Day Edition 2009

HEART.

OK, so now that I have your attention,
it's time to groove out to
Blue Man Group and Venus Hum
with their rendition of "I Feel Love"!"

Singular Saturday (and my 100th post!!)

Tu - Tu

Two - two?

[SMID knows where this is...she has a fabulous purse or two from here. Oh, and before the Velvet Mafia knocks on my door, threatening to rip a corner off my Gay Card - I do know those are NOT tutus. They are crinolines. Come on, people...what kind of philistine do you take me for?]

Once Upon A Time

A can't-lose proposition in 1962 Broadway terms: a musical, with music and lyrics by the team of Adams/Strouse - they'd already given the world Bye-Bye, Birdie and would later create Annie - and book by Mel Brooks and starring Ray Bolger. Title: All American

It was a disaster, running for only 80 performances. (Sondheim broke that record, with Anyone Can Whistle lasting only 9 performances. Carrie, the Musical is my all-time flop champion, closing after 5 shows...although it really should have closed at intermission of its first performance...but I digress...)

Surviving All American are a couple lovely tunes, including one that has unexpectedly become, ahem, my signature song. It's a sad, wistful song of longing and regret - lost love and missed chances for romance and such. This song is "Once Upon A Time".

I first heard this song on Mandy Patinkin's eponymous album, sung tenderly and without pretense. (Shocking for Mandy...) Again, I degress...

I liked the song. It stayed with me. The tune is very straight-forward and textbook in form (AABA). It stayed with me because it is lovely. Then I discovered that the most wonderful piano player in my life - Tom at Good Friends - knew the tune...and we started doing this song most Sundays at their sing-a-long.

Move forward a couple years, and it had become part of our standard repertoire. A handsome man with whom I was smitten commented on how me adored the song, but found the lyrics to be too painful for the loveliness of the tune.

I like a challenge.

So, to please this handsome man, with whom I had not a snowball's chance in Hell, I went home that night and wrote a new set of lyrics.

More reassuring, winsome and hopeful. I like them quite a bit. They are all I sing now. People who know the song from its origins will ask me where this alternate set of lyrics came from and I usually lie and say some recording somewhere.

I wrote them.

Now, I had been thinking about this for a while and thought it would be great to post to Music Monday as spearheaded by the lovely Soccer Mom in Denial. I went in search of a video to post for all to hear - and found my way to Bobby Darrin's heart-wrenching rendition.

Knowing a little bit about his life and troubled love for Sandra Dee, it makes the performance even more moving. Here is that video:

The handsome man liked the new lyrics, but I never had the heart to tell him that I wrote them for him.

No. That's not quite accurate.

He wasn't worth telling. Sure, I wrote them with him in mind. But these were for me.

So, here's my version. Sorry, no recording. You'll have to make a trip to New Orleans and stay over some Sunday - make sure that your flight is not too early on Monday morning. That won't be pretty after the time we have the evening before. And you will have heard this:

Once upon a time,

It seemed the world was turning grey.

Love was what I hoped for,

But never what would be.

And yet my once upon a times

Always set me free

Once upon a time,

A man with stardust in his eyes

Showed there is hope

And also sweet romance...

And now my once upon a time

Is my second chance.

Can this be?

Does it all seem real?

Aren't we always taught

That we should guard the way we feel?

Yet someday soon, I hope I can reveal...

My heart is yours.

Now upon this time,

The world is sweeter than we dreamed.

Everything we have
Is better than before.

And now my once upon a time...

Is my forever more.

Transitions, Challenges and Such

So much going on, so little time to put it all together in posts - so, forgive me if I empty the gullet here in one post. It's all got to come out.

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I lost a friend last week.

Not someone I'd call at 3 in the morning, crying on his shoulder, but a long-time theatre friend, a Mardi Gras friend, a coffee-with-whatever-bunch-showed-up-that-morning friend - and that rare person who was far-more outrageous than I could ever dream of being.

You always knew when Steve was in the room.

Or 3 blocks away.

Steve's bicycle was festooned with odd (read that as borderline NC-17) ornaments and geegaws, garlands and bells - and when he spotted you, you were greeted with a "Yoohooooooo!!" in a voice that could pierce the thickest New England fog.

Steve was a wonderful dancer, a strong singer and one of the most alive people i think I've ever met. One time at a party, he pulled me aside and said, "Come on, we're gonna put on a show." He pulled me upstairs where he threw a wig and scarf at me - having already selected his own impromptu ensemble - and then jumped out on the balcony overlooking the courtyard where our friends were partying, and started belting out "Let Me Entertain You." I followed up with "Nowadays" from Chicago.

Now that was a party.

Steve was also a great costume designer - here's the photo I snapped on him in 2004. Outrageous to the end, Steve finally succumbed to leukemia after a more than 2 year battle.

I will miss him - and New Orleans is a little less beautiful and delightful for his passing.

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Yesterday, I learned of another passing: my friend Coleen Salley, storyteller, author and bon vivant extraordinaire. Coleen was the Distinguished Professor of Children's Literature at the University of New Orleans, wrote many children's books and taught future generations all about the joy of reading and sharing books. My dear friend and fellow book-lover Susan Larson writes a wonderful tribute to her here.

"I don't want children to read just to perfect their reading. I want them to love books for the joy of it."

Coleen Salley

Coleen smoked and drank for most of her life until doctors told her to (um, strongly recommended thatshe out to) shape up. I don't blush at much, but she swore like a sailor and saw and did more in her life than most of us can imagine. I was fortunate to live in her neighborhood, a stone's throw from St. Louis Cathedral, and get invited to many of Coleen's infamous parties - Christmas soirees before the Caroling in Jackson Square - author parties with Hudson Talbot and others I cannot even recall, due to that fourth Brandy Mild Punch.

New Orleans is a helluva lot less fabulous with Coleen's passing. She's telling wicked and wonderful stories to the angels now.

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Life is too short to be angry all the time or to read bad books - or to tell other people what a bad book is. Coleen's passing only more dramatically points to last week's Banned Books Week.

I had every intention of posting a long diatribe on the virtues of reading banned/challenged books, and the evils of censorship, and blah blah blah. Truth is, the real world intruded. So, do your homework, check out sites like this and talk to other folks about why you think certain books aren't right for YOUR kids - but support people's choice to read what they want.

NOTE: during my research on banned books, I stumbled across this blog site. I've posted about books and some of the (perhaps) misguided challenges to them, but I had never encountered anyone who was against one of my all-time favorites, Guess How Much I Love You. The rationale? It bothered her that the parent always has to out-do the child. Really? That bothers you? Did you really read the book? What say you, parents?

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Other than that, I had planned on writing an Elegy to the Letter G. Thanks to Governor Palin, the final G - which until now been on life support, but still doing moderately OK - slipped away quietly on Thursday evening, never to heard from again.

Folks, please do your part. Don't let final G be forgotten. Let us not become a nation that is merely runnin', walkin', hopin' and wishin'...but please, remember the G.

Dreaming is not just a thing of the past.

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One final thought: I am willing to bet that Sarah Palin was “that girl” in High School - not exactly pretty or smart, but aware enough to see where the power lay. And just charming or shrewd enough to know how to play people to do things for her, to subtly bully people out of the picture - making others’ lives a living Hell for crossing her.

If a real poll could have been taken of her peers, I would bet they’d vote her Most Feared.What training. Now, she’s just a small town bully who never left high school, never learned anything that wasn’t advantageous to her assent, no critical thinking skills and no awareness of the world around her. A brainless bully.

A dangerous bully. A bully who aspires to Cheney-like bullying. And if that doesn't scare you, I doubt little will.

Thank you, John McCain, for Sarah Palin - the gift that keeps on giving to the Barack Obama Campaign.

Peace.

Damn Few

Allison is the friend for whom I will sleep on the floor.

Not the kind of friend. But. The. Friend.

Now, mind you, this is a beautiful cypress plank floor, just about a hundred years old, refinished innumerable times and worn in all the right places.

Beneath that floor is nothing. Buildings in this part of Louisiana are NOT insulated. Actually, below that beautiful floor was lots of cold air and occasionally the dulcet tones of two cats "in love". (I believe the phrase in Olde Disney-speak is "twitterpated".)

OK, so I had an airmattress on the floor - and was scant feet from a fabulous vintage, working gas fireplace. Still...floor.

To be fair, Soccer Mom offered repeatedly to switch places or share my big grown up bed that had no kids invading it before the crack of dawn.

Nope. It was her time to be (somewhat) spoiled.

It was a glorious week, despite some odd events at work and getting rained on whilst biking home. Old friends are worth the rain and the floor.

Because there were hugs involved here too. Many Hugs. You may have read about them here or here.

And a wonderful dinner where we had Old Friends meeting New Friends and...well, just getting each other like you'd hoped.

"Most friends fade,

or they don't make the grade,
New ones are quickly made

and in a pinch, sure, they'll do...
But us, Old Friend...
what's to discuss, Old Friend?
Here's to us!
Who's like us?
Damn Few."

Merrily We Roll Along

Stephen Sondheim

Oh, and these two old friends got together

for the first time in too many years.

It was a wonderful week...

*Sigh*

I Can Hardly Sleep...

Soccer Mom is coming to visit me. I can bearly contain myself.

For those of you who don't know, SMID and I met in April of 1992 (holy crap, 16 years ago!!). And she rocks...

And, we discovered along the way that we'd been immortalized in a series of beautiful and touching children's books...Toot & Puddle.

If you don't know these books yet, please check them out. They're tender and lovely and stunningly illustrated by the ridiculously talented Holly Hobbie.

Yes, that Holly Hobbie.

Two friends, one filled with wanderlust, the other preferring the creature comforts of home.

Yup. That's us...Can you guess which one is which of us?

OK, that was too easy. But, now go read the books...and then read them to your kids if you have any.

And then be REALLY envious.

Because Soccer Mom is coming to stay with me.

YIPPEE!!!!

For my Dear Friend

Someone is heading to New Orleans...that is, if she can ever get home from TN.

And I have a gift for her.

Shiny gift.

Pretty.

Glass Beads.

Decades ago, glass beads were all that the Mardi Gras krewes through, but they were expensive and tended to shatter when they hit something too hard.

It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye.

But, now - in recent years, companies have started selling these beautiful glass beads again. Two years in a row now, I've been lucky enough to snag a couple pair of them at the Krewe d'Etat and Hermes parades.

And I have a bunch for SMID to pick from when she arrives in New Olreans in about 10 days - she says she's coming for work, but we know the real story...she's just coming for the glass beads.

And I can't wait to see her!

Mardi Gras Goes to the Dogs (As Well It Should!)

Ahem...my first Bloggy Haiku...and a few photos.

Perfectly playful,

bringing Joy to the masses;

Carnival canines

"Daddy, it's little cold out here..."

"Daddy says he lets me ride in here to keep me warm, but I know it's really so he can have both hands free for his beer. But that's OK..."

"I can't believe she put me in a cocktail dress before sundown.

I could just die!"

"Yes, we know we look like stuffed toys.

We get that all the time."

"I was going for that whole Temple of Doom thing,

but I got up this morning and the only

thing that fit was this old Neck Tutu.

I have got to lay off the King Cake."

These wonderful and very patient dogs took part in the Mystic Krewe of Barkus Parade yesterday - a yearly fundraiser for the Louisiana SPCA and a pack of other local animal resources. Each year, a King and Queen are crowned - usually after having been a Duke or Duchess in one of the preceding years. Also, the royalty for Barkus are traditionally dogs who have been adopted from the LA/SPCA. This year's theme for Barkus was Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Bark. Past themes include Joan of Bark, Lifestyles of the Bitch and Famous, A Streetdog Named Desire, The Wizard of Paws, Harry Pawter and the Sorcerer's Bone, A Fistful of Collars, and Saturday Bite Fever. Do you notice a trend?

I don't have a dog, but I get to spend quality time now and then with Dizzy (the handsome devil in the black fur coat below) - whose human companions (or My Monkeys, as Dizzy is fond of calling them) are my friends Virginia and Roger. Dizzy is more of a people-dog than a romping-with-other-dogs-dog, and will often step in at the Dog Park and assume the role of Hall Moniter - "Hey, not so rough there! Keep your paws to yourself, Jake! You better have brought enough toys for everyone!" Dizzy came to the parade, allowing his Monkeys to dress him in the Crawfish outfit, but he was much more interested in hanging close to Daddy. Forcing us to go to him, if we wanted to lavish attention on him. Which we did...Frequently. He's a smart one, that Dizzy.

Oh, and he calls me Uncle Monkey.

Couldn't you just eat him up with a spoon?

Happy Barkus!

Our Christmas Eve Dinner

It’s our tradition – dinner between Christmas Eve church services.

What started out as a practical solution has become a feast, its own menu of legendary proportion.

Laurie and I met in October of 1991, when I joined the choir at Rayne Memorial United Methodist Church in New Orleans. She is a sensational singer, a gloriously pure soprano with a killer range, exquisite subtlety and breathtaking sensitivity. I adore listening to Laurie sing – and I get to call her my dear friend.

Our church has two Christmas Eve services, one at 5:30pm that tends to draw families and one at 11pm, quieter and more contemplative, pulling in couples young and old, divorcees and widowers, and especially those for whom the late, candlelight service is more meaningful. It makes for a long night of singing, but it is one of our favorites musically and gastronomically.

Laurie is a sensational cook – that first year, she whipped up a marvelous risotto for four of us. Over the years, we’ve had this and that, but this year was our 12th in a row with principally the same menu. Straying from it now seems like sacrilege.

First Course:

Carrot Zucchini Bisque – it may sound odd at first but oh, is it good! I found this recipe in another form in a cookbook my sister gave me when I was moving out on my own. She thought it was a book of Quick & Easy cooking, when in actuality it was a Lite Cooking guide. This Bisque recipe called for skim milk…I swapped that out for an equal amount of heavy whipping cream. Oooooh. Since it’s not nice to tease, here’s the version I use now:

1 Cup Water
6 large Carrots, peeled and diced
2 or 3 medium Zucchini, peeled and diced
2 cups Heavy Whipping Cream
2 tablespoons Flour
¼ teaspoon freshly ground Black Pepper
¼ teaspoon Cinnamon
3 chicken bouillon cubes or packets

In a medium saucepan, add water and place over high heat. Add carrots, cover saucepan and cook for 10 minutes. Add zucchini, cook for 5 minutes more. Remove saucepan from heat and drain liquid. (Save the liquid to use as a base for stock later, if you’d like.)

Puree vegetables in the same pot with an immersion blender (or hand mixer or whatever works for you. I’ve never owned a food processor.) Add the heavy cream and place over medium heat, uncovered. While stirring constantly with a wire whisk, sprinkle in the flour, black pepper and cinnamon.

Add the bouillon (I swear by the Better Than Bouillon brand – and they make a super Vegetable bouillon in case you need to make this for vegetarians) and continue to stir until it dissolves. Heat for another 5 minutes, stirring frequently so soup does not stick or burn. Serve in shallow flat bowls, garnished with a parsley sprig. 4 servings.

Second Course:

Field Greens with mini Goat Cheese cheesecakes. Oh. My. Gosh. Laurie bakes these tiny Goat Cheese and Chive cakes earlier in the day – they’re still warm on the salad plate. Yum!

Third Course:

Spaghetti Bolognese – Laurie’s mother’s recipe for the sauce, adapted to our taste with some of the incredible hot sausages we get here in Louisiana. Lots of freshly grated Parmesan and warm bread (we let Whole Foods take care of that).

Dessert:

Peppermint Ice Cream with Dove Dark Chocolate sauce. Peppermint Bark (Williams-Sonoma). Lindor Truffles. Some years we never even make it to dessert after all the previous courses.

Oh, and don’t forget – Prosecco, flowing throughout the courses. And, to get us into the proper mood for the second service, selections from the South Park Christmas CD – we can do most of the parts to the Dreidl Song, with counterpoint.

Then, we waddle our behinds back to church for the late Christmas service.

I have family around the world. I have family here in New Orleans.

And now we have our family traditions. Hope you had a great Christmas – ours was one of the best in years.

What Are You Looking At?

My friends.

I want to know how they manage to do everything they do.

I can barely keep it together enough to post a couple times a week (if I'm lucky), and yet they juggle family, work and 2 two freakin' blogs.

And still, the let me play with them. In case you haven't figured it out, I am referring to those incredibly cute and talented folk, Jenn in Holland and the frustrated woman in a gay man's body - I mean, Soccer Mom in Denial. (Oops.)

And their relatively new venture, Looking Into. If you haven't Looked Into it yet, I am shocked. The people are fabulous artists, doing their parts for making the world a little more beautiful, one photograph at a time. And the fact that let me hang with them is just so damn cool.

Curious, now? You should be.

Today they are posting one of my favorite pics from my neighborhood in NOLA - thank you, my friends.

And to all my new friends, check out all the breathtaking photos they've put up - and spend some time Looking Into.

And really, really Look. Take a deep breath, relax, and enjoy the moment.

You'll be glad you did.

My Lessons in Gratitude

I want to say thanks.

It’ll never be enough, but I need to say it anyway.

Thank you to every single person in my life who reached out in the hours and days and months (and now years) since Katrina. Thank you,too, to all those folks who’s names I don’t, and will never, know.

Thank you to the lovely Red Cross mental health professional (with the Dickensian name of Mary Cope) who made a point to come and speak discreetly to our small band of evacuees - to ensure that we had access to specific services for our needs and to let us know that we were among family (wink).

Thank you to Jessica, the ever-vigilant front desk manager at the Residence Inn in Nashville - our home away from home for nearly 4 months. After the first week, Jessica would call up to our room to let us know when the important pieces of mail had arrived - and became our den mother, making sure we were eating enough and sleeping through the night. I still think she knew we often lied on both accounts. (To make her Sunday morning shifts a little more bearable, we’d slip down to the office with a homemade Irish Coffee for her...)

To Bobbi, my dear friend of 20 years now, I can never express my thanks and appreciation for taking over as my press agent in the days immediately following the storm. Until we reached Nashville, we had limited communication with the outside world - landlines (including pay phones!) in the French Quarter are insulated underground and continued to work, even after the levees gave way. I would call Mom and Bobbi, and between the two, they’d piece together what they perceived was the real story. Bobbi then took the initiative to email to all my friends and family what she thought was appropriate to share. (I’d sent a mass email the eve of the storm to nearly all my address book...I got so many comments later that it was Bobbi’s emails that helped them get through those first 10 days.) Thank you.

Allison. I know she’ll probably say this is not deserving of thanks, but she’s wrong and too modest. Very early on, it was my conversations with her that actually helped me begin the grieving process sooner and faster than I otherwise might have. She asked me the tough questions that only a close friend has right to...and allowed me think about them and answer in my own time. With her help, I began to face the reality of my immediate future and make plans for life if, in fact, I could not return to New Orleans. And. Oh, this is a big And. Allison kept after me in her not-entirely-subtle way to rejoin the blogdom...challenging me to tell the untold stories, in a from-the-trenches point of view. How do I ever begin to thank you? I love you.

Mom. Without ever meeting Mark or John, Mom offered to fly us all out to Washington (state), to give us a safe place and a quiet space in which to pull it all back together. Even though we didn’t/couldn’t take her up on the offer, it was beautiful in its timing and simplicity. Thank you. (Mom never asked the hard questions, but confessed to Bobbi that she was worried that I’d seen things that had changed me for good. I hadand they did...but I love that she could express that care and concern.)

I am so grateful for the amazing friend I made during my exile to Nashville - Shellie. Through a series of unlikely (but incredibly fortuitous) events, I landed a sweet job working for Shellie at the Nashville Zoo - doing almost exactly the same kind of job I'd had in New Orleans. Not only do Shellie and I share very similar work ethics and notions of what quality education is - but we got each other. I had not made a new great friend like that in some time - and as a boss, she let me use my time there to grow and recharge and use all my gifts - and in turn, I helped the Zoo sparkle. Thank you, my new friend!


Mark. I don’t write much about Mark here, but I must thank him. The phrase he uttered to me, the words he knew would help me through time and time again...from the moment we realized the city was filling with water, to the now-or-never trip over the Mississippi River out of the city with John and me riding in the bed of Mark's truck to guard our worldly possessions (yes, that's me wielding the Henkels), to our long cold nights in Nashville, so very far from home. We'll get through this together. We did and we have. And now this life is in a new chapter. We didn't get through the way we thought we would, but we got through anyhow. So, thank you...

I was about to write that I could go on thanking people forever - the choir director at the small Methodist Church who let me sit in on rehearsals for a month or so despite not having the time to actually sing with them on Sundays...Andrew & Elwyn, my boys in Britain, who kept my spirits up and offered me refuge on their distant shore...Tamara, my first fiancee (we were Ambrose and Ermengard in Hello, Dolly! oh, so many moons ago) who shared my gut-wrenching emails with friends and coworker who in turn reached out to a stranger...Amy, who did her damnedest to keep all of us now-former Audubon staff in touch...Dean in Houston who listened, really listened, and helped me fathom it all...

But no. I cannot write it all down yet. Someday.

For now, I can only hope that these wonderful people know how much it all means to me - that I do thank them - and that not a day goes by that I don't try to repay all that kindness in the way I live my life.

There's really nothing left to say.

Except.

Thank you.

A Picture's Worth...

I love my immensely creative friends. Not only are they clever and witty, cute and fun--they're also REALLY good photographers. And now they have a new place to play, er, show their stuff.

Soccer Mom in Denial and Jenn in Holland are way cool. And I'm not just saying that because they're letting me place with them tomorrow. I wanna be like them when I grow up...just without the kids.

No offense to all the moms and dads out there. Or any of the kids. (Declan, why are you reading over mommy's shoulder?!?)

That said, please go check out my fabulous friends at Looking Into. I think you'll dig it.