The Redstar Perspective

Seems my anxiety is misplaced.  Turns out Boston is the city for total unraveling. Where to begin….that this is the worst ad campaign ever? That we’re easily aroused lunatics who scare easily?  That apparently these “packages” were lying around for weeks before this afternoon’s antics?  That these so-called bombs look like Lite-Brite creations?

Fortunately, we found an immediate scapegoat while we look for one with deeper pockets.  Personally, I think having your fatuous CV shamelessly mocked by the Boston media is kind of a drag.  But most Massholes should feel better when we beat this guy to death on Opening Day (April 10). Nothing like a little blood shed to kick off the season right.

Meanwhile, over in the Gulf Coast, this afternoon I happily drove away for the last time from Willow Street, 90210, I mean, 70118.  No more drama, both roommates probably equally happy not to have to share such close quarters anymore (as both amicably acknowledge during a long overdue parting how happy they are in their own lives now…thanks to Space Gal and the M.A.S.!).  I’m emancipated from an uncomfortable, post-romantic situation that I’ll hopefully never see the likes of again.  Like looks good from behind the wheel of my rented PT Cruiser.  It’s no turquoise ride on the mean streets of Boston, but it’ll do for now.

All I know is this one had better light up the blogosphere as much as John Edwards’s lair.

As a non-Jewish Deis grad, there’s one topic I try never to discuss.  Too heated.

How dismaying to see this latest turn in the debate. 

That’s about all I can contribute on this one…(…other to say I was never a fan of Shula, who gave me some sensible advice re: my senior honors thesis that I was too young to appreciate then, but whose demeanor nonetheless left me sour on her forever after.)

Readers, please discuss amongst yourselves. 

Apparently my utter lack of interest in cooking and therefore refusal to spend $$ on kitchen gadgets means I’ve dramatically preceded a culinary trend.  I grew up with my mom cooking steaks in the broiler; they cooked quickly after her long day at work, and we ate in a snuggly, warm kitchen (she was - and now I am - forever chilly).  I indulged in roommates’ toaster ovens in college, but other than that, I’ve been using the broiler forever. 

This author asks “What can you cook?”  And I confirm his answer: “…anything,” including frozen waffles or toast in the morning.  No more wasted counter space (though I could still stand to downsize my industrial sized microwave)!  Divine.

I’m comforted he acknowledges how difficult they are to clean (esp. when you never bother.  I think I just recently pulled out a piece of bread stuck beneath the broiler pan since I turned 30 18 months ago, but you know what, it could just as likely still be there).  The one drawback he fails to mention, bending down to reach the damn thing.  Ever since my back break in 2000, when I was ramrod straight in a brace for 6 months and pretty limited in my range of motion, I’ve learned to put everything above me whenever possible.  Reaching the broiler is it’s one flaw, but in my sparse and neglected little kitchen, it’s easily overlooked.

Happy cooking!  Set a place for me.

Despite not feeling well, NYC Weboy is keeping up with the blog-rant about John Edwards’s new McMansion.  Apparently, the Edwards Estate is supposed to whip me up into a classist frenzy; whether I’m supposed to feel betrayal, rage, or abhorrence by his excess still isn’t clear to me.  (While Wesley has links to Ezra Klein and John Podhoretz, I personally find this link the most entertaining and telling in this whole hot air fest.)

I can’t make sense of any of this - Wesley’s argument nor the diatribes that follow Barnett’s “FAQ” about the house.  It could just be because I think Edwards’s house sounds incredibly tacky, so I don’t see how he’s a viable whipping boy for the anti-intellectual, anti-elite arguments that Wesley’s referencing (since I can safely report from Ground Zero of the elite intelligentsia that they would loathe to live in a sprawling suburban NC home such as his.  An English countryside estate, perhaps, or a house on Nantucket, but outside Raleigh, no thanks…)

Edwards’s house sounds like a very conventional display of “new” money in this country, and by “new” I mean the conspicuous consumption of affluent suburban development of the last two decades.  The average home in the U.S. is ~2,500 square feet, so Edward’s is about 4x the size of that (though why he built his family their own personal 15k sf “community center” - he’s a liberal, he’d prefer that term, trust me - is another story and one suggestive of some early-stage Gatsby-esque mental illness).  At 10k sf, his home is at the high end of the curve of McMansions (homes between ~4-10k sf), but not off the charts.  He’s not exactly an outlier, by American standards, and, lest we forget, certainly not among politicians. 

Thus, I apparently need some tutelage on electoral demographics, because I don’t know who these people are that are screaming at Edwards, or what their incomes or lifestyles look like. 

Furthermore, I don’t think this indicates that people are anti-”level the playing field,” as Wesley describes, but that somehow they believe Edwards in particular is a hypocrite.  As if he was once on their playing field, with his up-by-his-bootstraps life story and therefore justified wealth accumulation, but has now joined the ranks of the patrician Kennedy’s, when clearly he should be a card-carrying GOP’er if he’s going to live in a McMansion in Nascar country.  Or, am I supposed to assume that the anti-Edwards cries are from right(er)-wing bloggers of modest means?  We all have a relative level of affluence to be sitting around all day carping at one another.  Give me a break.  (Furthermore, judging by the fact that Edwards felt compelled to build his family their own mini-village short of a grocery store - and who needs that with delivery these days - he’s obviously preparing for some serious exile, which probably includes from the exclusive, insider-ish tone of the political blogosphere.  Who the hell are all these people that they’re all collegially bashing Edwards like they’ve known each other for years??  Make room for me in your ”Lounge,” John.  I’m feeling all excluded and mis-understood now myself!) 

This is hardly class warfare, people.  This is an internal implosion under the pseudonym of “class.”  Class warfare is when the serfs of our service economy rise up and enslave us pasty, out-of-shape bloggers, converting our intellectual and professional safehavens for their own ruling purposes. 

Personally, I think this article sums up our current state of economic affairs much more effectively than the vivid example of the new Edwards Township in Orange County, NC.  But he sure has room to host those populist organizing meetings that are going to win him some elections!

Just watch him.

The Senate claims Bush can’t ignore their opposition to Iraq, but I think he’s proven he’s quite capable of brushing aside alternative points of view.  (They’re evil, after all.)  Lots of juicy intellectual debate in this piece, as experts are recruited to the partisan fray to make the case for or against the decider’s power.  The Senate has a lot to teach this CIC about resolving disagreement; I hear 2007 is the year they pass legislation on making the Tug-o-War the determining factor between the 51-49 chamber’s squabbles. 

Meanwhile (and coming to you live!), New Orleanians wish they had a leader as obstinate and determined as Dubya.  Nagin apparently can’t find the strength to go after almost $600M in federal funds the State is dangling in front of him.  Too much red tape, he whines.  No doubt, Ray, no doubt, but that’s why they pay you the big bucks.  A friend of mine I ran into last night told me the C. in “C. Ray Nagin” clearly stands for “Crack,” because this Mayor is smokin’ a whole lot of it.  (The group of New Orleanians I was with also couldn’t stop talking about the Mayor telling the visiting senators yesterday that the City didn’t need anymore $$.  I wonder what he thinks it needs…political leadership?  housing?  updated levees?  good schools?  adequate policing?  a healthy economy?) 

Although, perhaps we shouldn’t be bickering over $600M, when the City’s recovery’s true price tag is $14B (by the way, I ran into the “managers” of the UNOP process last night, some of whom were pretty smashed.  No doubt easing the anxiety over this announcement today).  I’ve heard conflicting views of the new recovery Czar Ed Blakely (not to be confused with actor-turned-extreme-environmentalist Ed Begley, Jr.) within the ivory planning tower, but it does seem that this is a political appointment without any operational, decision-making power.   All the glory, none of the accountability.  Who wouldn’t dig that, especially with the salaries Nagin’s handing out these days? 

Just throwing a little sardonic cheeriness your way from the Mojo Coffee House in New Orleans, whose warm and caffeinated interior is a welcome reprieve from the city’s chilly, drizzly and very uncertain exterior.  (I kid you not, there’s a grown Raggedy Ann standing across from me at the counter right now.)  I send my love from the city where OZ, the local radio station, gives us Massholes some love right back, with a shout-out for our promising new governor, and not because of his professional achievements and promise, but because of his famous lineage:

That’s right, meet Deval’s Dad, Sun Ra.

And ladies, don’t forget to give those hard-workin’ men in your own life some love tonight too. 

I think I’m actually supposed to be a Tues a.m. QB; it’s been a few years since my fantasy football days.  Packing up and heading down to NOLA shortly, where I’m packing up Willow Street, working on my presentation for Friday, checking out the public housing exhibit at the Ogden, and generally catching up with the city.  I don’t know when I’ll be back after this, and I’m apprehensive as usual about what I’ll find.

As a result, my thoughts are a jumble, and I’m cheating a bit on posting by throwing up some planning and politics-related articles from the NYTimes. 

Women Leader’s are Moms Too 

Of course, I’m compelled to respond to this: Newsflash!  Women leaders are moms, too!  And it’s good for you and the country!  I know this is supposed to come as some sort of relief, that the “masculine” rules of the game are changing…but honestly, how different is this from the old notion of (male) politicians shaking hands and kissing babies? 

I know, male politicians haven’t been portraying themselves as fathers - yet (so far, we like the physician-turned-politician theme best in terms of role transformation) - but the idea of children as photo op is not new just because Pelosi and Clinton have grown children they now count - and rightfully so - as resume achievements (This other idea of the “listening tour” as a feminized strategy has some merit as I google the term, but is by no means an exclusive ploy of women candidates).  The notion that women can finally embrace something that is still essentially considered their primary responsibility and source of pride is a bit overdue, overdone, and trite.  Child-rearing as relevant accomplishment should be an essential part of many women’s political campaigns, given the elder average age at which women enter politics, i.e., after they’ve raised their families, especially in Pelosi’s generation.

I actually love Condi’s quote at the end of this article, but I feel the inclination of disagreement rising up in me.  As much as I loathe society’s over-emphasis on marriage and baby-making for women, I think the latter is ultimately one of our competitive advantages, and we should use it as such.  Not at an overriding expense of our other personal and professional assets, but the real truth is that the world should be pushing men to embrace the caregiving and managing multiple roles and responsibilities that arises from parenting, versus demanding women retreat or play down such realities.  Of course, the real tragedy between the Boxer-Rice exchange is the shots these two women take at each other over their personal lives.  Somewhat understandable when you consider Condi is actually the Bush’s more or less adopted offspring, and executioner, as such.

Suburbia’s Angry Populists

Of course, listening tours among all politicians make help them locate suburbia’s “angry populists,” you know, your neighbors freaking out about the economy from behind the wheels of their S.U.V.s as their kids quietly play with the latest portable Playstations. I’m guilting as a political neophyte of buying into this economic insecurity; you’ve seen me write about it elsewhere.  There’s something to be said with the checked-out consumption patterns of middle-class and affluent Americans.  They don’t necessarily contradict the insecurity politicians are harping about, but people are not necessarily living their lives in fear either.  I’m torn about this issue, and would be interested in your feedback.  To me, there’s so many professional, class and regional demarcations to dig into in a trend like this; I keep in touch with friends from business school and have family members who earn and consume in volumes I can’t imagine, but I am still attending the same alumni and holiday dinners with them.  There’s more to this article than meets the eye…duh.

Loving the Car and Cursing the Pedestrian in NYC 

Finally, speaking of regional variation, here’s a fun one on how NYC is actually bringing up the rear on transit and quality of life issues, compared to the “rest” “of the universe.”  Adam Gopnik and others have written repeatedly on how NYC has rebounded and is thriving due to its “suburbanization” or “big box” transformation.   Apparently, that includes embracing the car as the primary mode of urban transportation.  All I know is that the congestion tax in London is a fantastic idea being investigated in developing cities around the world, and that the MBTA (Boston’s miserable “T”) is now the same price as NY’s remarkable subway system - a public transportation outrage worthy of some chiding coverage. 

I’m off - via car - to the airport.

This is one of my Link Categories, along with “Blogroll,” “New Orleans,” “Reference,” “My Commentary,” and “My Gifted and Talented Peeps.”  Wordpress is too sophisticated a blog host for me to figure out how to have these category titles show up, so instead it looks merely like a disorderly jumble of links.  I’ve wasted countless hours trying to figure out how to get these titles to appear, to no avail.  I loathe technology; have I ever mentioned that?  (Forever I thought the fax machine was the greatest invention of all time; I’m almost ready to concede that title to the iPod, if I didn’t go through 3 in 6 months because they’re a little too sensitive to being dropped repeatedly.  Now if only my f***ing Treo were that delicate).  Jake, where are you when I need you?? 

Anyway, there are 2 new blog additions to The RP: Oh For Fun! and Reigning Frog’s Blog.  Check them out.  They’re women my age with clever, witty things to say about their lives (musician and non-profit exec, respectively); their cities (Buffalo); and their interests (travel and shampoo - I know, who knew V05 even still existed, never mind just released a new “flavor?”). You’ll notice yesterday I also added a new link, another articulate thirty-something woman creating an interesting life for herself abroad. 

I find it really difficult to track down blogs by women that talk about anything other than looking for love or the trials and tribulations of childrearing.  I know there are other women out there looking for more than our obsessions with men and kids…and I for one am so sick of men having the floor on politics and current events (unless of course the latter deals with celebrities, our third obsession, it seems…my post on “brangelina” has gotten some of the most hits on this site - sigh). 

I like Oh For Fun! in particular because she celebrates her love of travel and writes movingly about the storm that hit Buffalo this past fall.  Both of these women celebrate the urban experience by writing with pride about their city, and Bleeding Espresso shares with us a similar enthusiasm for adventure and connection by packing up and moving halfway across the world to her family’s ancestral home to live and write (and, apparently, drink a lot of coffee…I like her style, as I sit here in my pj’s with my second cup at 1:30 on Sunday afternoon). 

Finally, I’m thrilled to have discovered the blog network of women my own age, rather than the drunk-20-somethings-in-the-city that I keep tripping over in my search for interesting blogs (there is no doubt that had I started blogging 5 years ago then I would have been writing about the exact same thing, but now I’m just so happy those days are behind me, and I wish these women well and only the mildest of hangovers). 

Speaking of work, travel, cities, and politics, I leave tomorrow for New Orleans for the week.  We are packing up Willow Street; our lease has ended.  I am presenting on Friday at a conference on my community development work in the city from January - August 2006.  Wish me luck; the loss of one of the sharpest women I knew this past week has left me woefully unprepared for this week’s events.  I had some nightmares last night about what to expect from NOLA too.  Stay tuned. 

I have good people in my life. 

It’s impressive. 

While I joke with the M.A.S. about how we have no friends in Boston, that’s not really the case.  Furthermore, the wonderful friends I have outside this city are the reason sometimes my social life here seems lacking.  The people I’ve collected so far are difficult to top. 

There’s an obvious impetus for this post; the kindness of friends, extended family and even acquaintances (in “real” life as well as the blogosphere) over this past week has been phenomenal.  Two of my best friends in the world - Shannon and Leah - no doubt emptied their wallets to come up here for the wake and funeral, respectively, from DC and NYC, respectively.  Shannon and I have been friends since elementary school, and Leah was that immediate, fast, best friend I found in college that I have been so unwilling to relinquish to her husband, family and children, that I decidedly embraced them all instead.  Leah and I bonded freshman year by drowning one another in the details of our families, and yesterday we caught up in the corner of the post-funeral restaurant as I brought her up to speed on the great-uncles, second cousins and the like that she’d never seen before.

Meanwhile, my dear dear friend Wesley was omnipresent at both the wake and the funeral, a wonderful salvation for my better half, no doubt, given the confusing sea of my extended family in which the M.A.S. was trying to stay afloat.  At the end of the night my cousins and aunt started to battle over who got to take home the most beautiful bouquet of roses lying on the funeral home table, until I told them they were mine, a gift from Wesley (it was either flowers or a “covered dish,” he adorably confessed). 

Before I turn to the endless support of the M.A.S. (I know you’d all expect nothing less), I have to spend a moment on my childhood friends who turned out to pay their respects.  Maureen, Eileen, Mike, Jen, and of course, Laura, most of whom I’ve known as long as Shannon, and whom, when the M.A.S. first partied with some of them last May, told me they felt more like my family then friends.  That there was a palpable protectness and affection for me - typically displayed as heckling, of course, we’re a predominantly Irish crew! - that he easily discerned among the group.  Most of these friends I see a couple times a year at most, usually at St. Patrick’s Day or when we organize a dinner or impromptu bbq.  There’s nothing like watching old friends who knew you in your middle-school-bedazzler-jean-jacket days catch up with your aunt, their old soccer coach, or your mom, who took them on service field trips to her old employer Boston City Hospital, while a babysitter looks after their 2 kids at home, and they look forward to getting home themselves so they can kick off their heels and pull off the tie.  (Even Junior High Boyfriend sent his condolences from his L.A. outpost, even though we’ve seen each other only 6 times in the last 17 years, and e-mail 3x/year at most.)  It was Laura and Shannon who pointed out to me that the experience of having Nannie along for the ride was as much theirs as it was mine as we grew up. 

And finally, there is the M.A.S., who is my family now too, even as he struggles to keep up with the details of who the hell all these cousins, aunts and uncles are, and I look forward to getting to know his immediate family better later this month.  My cousin Tracey tacked up a photo of him and me at the BC Parents’ Weekend this past fall, where we played drinking games and kicked up our heels with her and her sisters Erin and Jane, the latter a senior Screamin’ Eagle.  Never mind that this photo was hanging over the edge of the photo collage of Nannie and her brood; the M.A.S. made the board. 

I want to publicly thank these friends, and my far-flung friends like Amy, Denise and Nikki who have checked in with me over the week and offer up their own empathies to me during this time.  I also want to urge you all to check out the newest link at the RP - Bleeding Espresso - an American ex-pat in Italy whose own beautiful post about her deceased grandmother is one of many terrific pieces on her blog (Mama Dramas, I think you’d enjoy…); she sent me some lovely thoughts as well.  The therapeutic nature of blogging endures. 

Good morning.  I am one of Nannie’s 11 ½ grand- and great-grandchildren.  I’m going to start by reading a letter to Nannie from her daughter, my aunt Linda…(Letter)

The other inheritance from Nannie that I have to mention, along with Linda, is how to be a strong woman.  No doubt largely because of her generation, I think Nannie believed that life didn’t always give her many choices.  But I think Nannie really made the most of what life delivered, relishing her single life with her sisters and friends, getting a business degree, serving as a local volunteer during WWII, doing her best to instill in her kids that there was a life out there for them beyond their immediate surroundings, and especially teaching her daughters that they could do anything and go after any opportunity.  She never learned to drive, but she traveled when she could, with her kids, and she was riding that van to the Plaza to shop for as long as she was physically able. And she lived through the adventures of her kids and grand-kids, listening to our stories and adventures, knowing our friends, and just always being there, whether we were down the Cape, in Connecticut or North Carolina.  I know that all of us feel pretty lost right now without Nannie, and I can’t imagine that feeling is going to dissipate anytime soon.  But one thing I’ve learned in big Irish families is that we keep each other close through the best and worst of times, even if laughter has to supplant the tears just so we can get by.  I also know that the best way we can honor Nannie is to keep her presence alive among us through our stories and memories and appreciation for how she loved us and lived among us all of our lives, from her eldest, my Uncle Michael to our newest addition, my 9-month old Cousin Kate.  The events of this past week have left me overwhelmed and awed, but immensely thankful for this family Nannie created for me and for all of us.  We have our work cut out for us to come to terms with this loss; she was the Queen of this family, and she’s irreplaceable, not only to us, but to every person whose life she touched in her 89 years.  We love you and miss you, Nannie. 

A somewhat outmoded title, I admit…

…now that I’m part of the M.A.S., I have slightly more faith in the world that there’s good partners out there…

Well, as it turns out, there are, especially for hyper-educated sharp cats like myself.

Of course, I may be getting ahead of myself.  This article on the class gap in marriage rates, uses college education as the marker, whereas professional students like myself might be the outliers here. 

The impetus for this deeper analysis of marriage rates in the U.S. is this piece that ran last week on how more than half of women in the U.S. are living without a spouse.  My beloved grandmother - Marie “Nannie” Taylor - who passed away on Monday night at age 89 (and 8 days), was one of these women.  There is a tribute to her, and my grandfather, deceased 19 years earlier, forthcoming on this website.  Once I can get through the state of shock that’s confined me to my couch and tv for the last 24 hours, I will try to come back on-line here and share with you a glimpse of the feisty, independent woman and quirky, unconventional man that were my maternal grandparents.

Meanwhile, check out NYC Weboy, where my informal blogging partner will certainly take the lead on analyzing the irrelevant SOTU last night, or the latest goings-on at Brandeis, where the school that groomed Abbie Hoffman, Angela Davis, Jack Abramoff and yours truly for public life delivered the latest round of controversy to its energized, activist campus. 

Seems I’m not the only one witnessing a slow, but serious shift in our political arena.  Get ready for a new range of righteous claims to our political throne (don’t think I’m not taking copious notes!).  We have the likes of Obama saying it’s his/our/no longer “their” turn (sure, he’s referencing a broader theme, but coming from him, it doesn’t sound like much beyond an expected pitch of why he’s the best man for the job), and the progressive blogosphere heralding the movement underpinning their political action (there’s more to it than being wired, though that’s the highlighted characteristic here). 

Wesley has some crisp analysis on Hillary’s announcement, and some helpful links to further coverage.  The comments posted beneath the TPM Cafe links are most telling.  Hillary’s gender has not been directly referenced, but rather is pegged as an essential cause (consider it an interaction effect with her desire to also distinguish herself from the records of her past, i.e., her husband’s divisive presidency) behind her need to be “hawkish” on Iraq - the position that appears to be the deal-killer for most Dems that might otherwise consider her a serious candidate. 

Meanwhile, I’m watching Katrina pop up more frequently in these early days of the presidential race, much more so than in the midterms.  The popular reference appears to be the “destruction” of an “American city” on Bush’s watch.   Just as I cringe everytime Bush invokes 9/11 in attempts to plug the holes in his rapidly sinking presidency, I can feel myself tensing up as Democratic hopefuls regularly check Katrina off on the GOP’s list of horrendous failures over the last 6 years (I don’t disagree with them, but where was the outcry 18 months ago?  And where are the plans to redress what’s certainly irrevokably lost at this point?).  I am spending this week trying to flush out a dissertation question so I can eventually graduate from this seemingly-endless journey through the hallowed halls of academia, and for the last couple days I’ve been reading coverage of rebuilding post 9/11 and post-Katrina, from the anniversaries of the 2 disasters until today. 

The Times published a thought-provoking article yesterday about a sustainable post-Katrina New Orleans, and it speaks to the larger truth that disasters typically set in motion trends already in effect, trends that ultimately shape the new communities that grow up around survivors.  Reading 18 months of coverage on the political wrangling over rebuilding affordable housing in New Orleans, and 5 years of efforts to shift Lower Manhattan from a predominantly commercial district to a more mixed, residential-commercial community, reveals how changes in residential composition of the two cities were well underway before they were accelerated by the terrorist attacks and hurricane. In Lower Manhattan, conversions of office to residential properties was in effect prior to September 11 as a means to fill a growing gap in commercial tenants, and this transformation proved to be the necessary salve to restore vibrancy and life to Lower Manhattan long before commercial tenants were priced out of Midtown and forced to reconsider Lower Manhattan once again as a place to do business.  Despite this conversion having pre-9/11 roots, real estate execs, downtown officials, and even local residents often describe the new downtown of luxury apartments, schools, parks and boutiques as “unforeseen.” 

Similarly, in New Orleans, HUD was in the process of dismantling public housing long before Katrina presented them with the enormous opportunity to finish the job; indeed, this effort is part of the national trend of the last decade to replace public housing (at an overall lost of units) with the more popular, en vogue but questionably successful mixed-use housing.  Proposals to rebuild housing in Louisiana, supported by federal tax credits, offer the more difficult and decidely political approach of developing mixed-income projects, versus the easier, cheaper and more conventional approach of building affordable housing.  This is despite the fact that Southern Louisiana desperately needs as many units as possible, and that both state and HUD officials have cautioned Blanco and the LRA against mixed-income that have a higher risk of not being built due to prohibitive costs and insurance.  Leaving out the fact that there’s not a huge market for mixed-income in an area where the average monthly public housing rent was $85/month, and we could use some clarification from the State on their vision for the Orleans metro area that pointedly is trying to transform a pre-Katrina city (for better and for worse; while folks might not want to see the same levels of poverty return, they also are rightfully proud of their historic single- and two-family homes and are likely to be unsupportive of larger-scale apartment complex developments that are neither appropriate for the architectural character of the city nor designed to withstand hurricanes.

Like Lower Manhattan, we should expect the New Orleans of the future to be a remarkably different place than people’s memories of the pre-Katrina city.  New Orleans, and Katrina’s devastation, nonetheless illustrate the dire affordable housing situation we face in this country - victims in New Orleans extend beyond the very-low-income residents that populated the Housing Authority’s waiting lists and include the middle-income residents who had all their equity tied up in their homes and now lack enough to rebuild, and face losing the primary material asset that placed them squarely in within America’s celebrated and apparently at-risk middle-class.  While we may see former public housing residents on tv and pity them, offering our sympathy, it is empathy that we have for these other Katrina victims.  Unfortunately, we see how much more similar the plights of these different groups have become after Katrina’s wrath, and the botched government efforts - at all levels - to offer adequate assistance to resettle, rebuild and generally re-start lives in safer, more secure settings. 

It’s clear most New Orleanians are not coming back, in the near future, or possibly ever.  But beyond that, as Americans, we should be aghast at the holes the Bush administration has ripped in our government safety net that might be of need to all Americans at some point in their lives, not just the very poor, who are merely the most frequent users of the system.  As post-Katrina insurance rates (at 2-6x pre-storm prices) and the very existence of the government flood insurance program demonstrates, the private market will not bail Americans out of unforeseen catastrophes like 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina.  It’s times like this that we need strong, reliable government intervention, not the disastrous discovery that the government’s been toppled and looted as well. 

I’ll be listening to Hillary, Obama and the rest of the Dem crew for their new and innovative ideas as our collective desert wandering of the last 6 years starts to come to an end. 

Instead of a New England-New Orleans Superbowl, I get two teams led by the first African-American coaches ever to lead a team to the championship.

Apparently, this matters to me.

Yeah, good for me. And the Pats.

She’s “in it to win,” ladies and gentlemen, and I for one, am thrilled.  This is barely news, we all knew this was coming, but Hillary promises to be the first female candidate to be taken seriously, even if it’s because people love her and hate her with equal zeal.  (I will never forget when she was first running for Senator in NYC while I was in business school, and one female colleague was walking around campus with an anti-Hillary button - you know, “Hillary” with the red circle around it and the red line running through it.  The Times says she’s very popular with women voters, but in my anecdotal experience, her worst, most virulent critics have been women.  We’re good like that, sadly.)

As I’ve written elsewhere, the political fields are changing, and like we just experienced up here in the urban, blue Northeast, we are facing a (Democratic) race between a white woman and a black man.  Throw in the third candidate of John Edwards and his poverty platform, and you’ve got a primary I don’t want to miss.  For me, Hillary is more of the old school, inner-circle (”Bush, Clinton, Bush, Clinton” anyone?) toe-the-line candidate that I’d like to see give way to a more progressive, leftist challenger like Obama (and I’d really like them all to adopt Edwards’s anti-poverty message), but her gender nonetheless matters to me, because we need high-profile women like her and Pelosi to break down some basic barriers for other women to enter the political playing field.  I wouldn’t be surprised if all three of these candidates somehow were “assassinated” or imploded in the primaries and a less interesting Dem got the nomination (there’s another 5 or so candidates in this race, white dudes who I’m sure are all interesting in their own right).  And I also think it will be a nasty, dirty campaign season, per usual these days, and one where we see Hillary excoriated for her politics, gender, marriage and style (and not neccessarily in that order); one where similar political slander such as that against Harold Ford in the midterms is slung at Obama; etc. etc.

I like competition for the sake of competition, and finally, there are some politicians that for me are worth following.  I’m beginning to understand the enthusiastic chatter of all my white, 30-something male peers in the political blogosphere from which I’ve felt pretty alienated until now.  Finally, I’ve got some folks to talk about. 

And we’re off!

Buy purchasing the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development for an undisclosed cash figure… 

Ok, so that’s not true, but I’m trying to catch up on all the latest in NOLA, and the two main threads in my inbox - a) the (temporary, don’t forget!) relocation of the world’s second most famous couple and b) the fight to re-open public housing - are quite the pairing.  Throw in the rising, spastic, terrifying crime wave rolling across the city, and the Saints’s thrilling, astounding arrival in the NFL playoffs, and NOLA has its hands full, per usual, as Mardi Gras approaches. 

As expected, US Weekly is already hinting at an Angelina backlash, and it’s clear to me I should leave the celebrity coverage to the experts.  (CLICK THROUGH THIS LINK AND BOOKMARK IT!)  I’ll move on from this topic by admitting sheepish confusion over Brangelina’s relocation.  Like them, I’m always trying to shed light on situations folks would rather ignore - the atrocious lack of coordinated support to rebuild New Orleans, being one such topic - but I can’t help but feel chagrined anyway by the addition of NOLA to their global humanitarian circuit.  Certainly they’ll be adopting a cast-out Lafitte or St. Bernard child next?  Despite their best and hopefully well-funded intentions, I feel rather cheap being in the same “do-gooder” category as them.  Hopefully their arrival is not just another move in the already energetic direction of privatizing the entire recovery of the city.  They might take a cue from another “activist” peer George Clooney, and start haranging their government (from Nagin on up) to devote some leadership and targeted spending to rebuilding the city.

Meanwhile, the blogosphere left keeps up the coverage of the fight for public housing, and Think New Orleans has published the recently community-crafted “Principles of Public Housing.”  If you’ve been following this struggle at all (even just here at the RP) or have any familiarity with affordable housing issues, then these principles are as expected:

• the right to return,
• the right to equal participation in community-driven rebuilding for renters, public housing residents, etc.
• immediate reoccupation and phased redevelopment of the housing stock to give folks a place to live during rebuilding,
• de-isolating public housing from surrounding communities,
• avoiding demolition in favor of more sensible and cost-effective redevelopment,
• providing critical support services for the low-income residents of public housing.   

The latest news is that activists and former residents have re-occupied St. Bernard,

cleaning it out, reclaiming possessions, etc.  These principles appear to have been developed and adopted in this latest round of activity, and demonstrate the on-going efforts of a dispersed but dedicated group of individuals committing to not only saving these viable, structurally-sound buildings (MIT-inspected!) and communities, but also the broader principles of affordable housing that are increasingly under threat across the U.S.  

So I suppose we should root for the Saints, for Pitt’s Babel in the upcoming Oscars, if only to continue to keep our fleeting national attention on New Orleans.  Whatever it takes.  As any savvy celeb knows, all publicity is good publicity…right Angie?

(Updated on 2/5/07 to remove photos due to possibly related spam issues. Please see this post for full photo regalia)

Given we’re prolific (if typically local) explorers, and especially of the urban neighborhoods and corners others would rather skip or don’t even know exist, the M.A.S. and I talk frequently about authoring a travel guide more suited to our tastes. Turns out on this 18 day trip to South America, we were also looking for travel buddies. Seems urban or overseas tourists are either in their study-abroad or retirement periods, with not enough exception. Other than a random Alabaman siting, some enthusiastic Kiwis traveling round the world, some missionizing college-age Pennsylvanians, and a lone male Floridian looking for a Brazilian site to watch the college football championship, we crossed paths with very few travelers that might have made suitable, fleeting companions for an afternoon or two. At lunch one day the M.A.S. asked, “does no one travel in their 30s because they all have kids?” Good question, and one I couldn’t answer after multiple glasses of Sauvignon Blanc.

With roughly a week each in Santiago, Chile and Recife, Brazil, we had a couple days each week to devote to the beach, tanning, reading and at least one night of an intense UNO showdown (This game really needs 4 people, especially if 2 of them are Tergie and Mrs. Goofball, heckling each other until Mrs. Goofball is totally salty!). As mentioned, the Pacific Ocean along which Chile lies is too cold for most sane individuals (e.g., me),

(fab photo of penguin islands belongs here)

and the urban beaches of Recife are not clean enough (and smell as such) for most Americans. The one suitable strip of Recife is the up(per)-scale Boa Viagem, which also offers enough people-watching; snacking on fried cheese-curd popsicles (The Cheeseheads are stirring….), fresh pineapples and shrimp, hot dogs, the local firewater cachaca, and of course, tasty coconut milk; and the occasional shark scare to keep any beach goer engaged for an afternoon.

(great shot, beach strip)

(signage: “you are at a greater than average risk of shark attack”)

In Brazil, we ventured out of Recife for an afternoon to the cleaner beaches in the South, fleeing the initial destination of Porto de Galinhas (Rooster Beach, “rooster” being a code name that stuck for a secret slave delivery point long after slavery was outlawed in Brazil) when we discovered how touristy it was (we literally could not move on the beach it was that crowded; seems all the pristine, spare guidebook photos were either taken at dawn or in 1948 before the site was developed) and ended up at Calhetas, a much more secluded (though hardly sparse) and chill beach cove where we befriended Recifens Emilio and Theresa - a cop and physical therapist - and drank cachaca with them all afternoon while we tried to describe to them Brazilians in Boston and I admired Theresa’s amazingly waterproof red lipstick. After several cachacas - which, when not in a caipirinha, is poured like a tequila shot and sipped slowly - Emilio got stuck on the notion of the M.A.S. tying the knot and spent the rest of the afternoon demonstrating to me how to catch my other half by grinding and turning his thumb and second finger against his opposit open palm, as if putting the screws to something. His point exactly, I suppose. I told him that just as he encouraged us to take our cachaca - “SLOWLY, SLOWLY” he repeatedly chanted - so did I approach my relationship (never-minding planning an almost 3 week trip with your new boyfriend). Nothing like drinkin’ with an off-duty cop for a few laughs and free rounds.

In Chile, we spent one afternoon sunbathing with the traveling fashionistas in Cachagua, where our MIT bud and la novia (”bride”) Francisca’s family has a home.

(Valparaiso cityscape; Valparaiso elevator)

Despite the sunny, turquoise allure of the photos, that’s about the extent of our beach vacation. The rest of the trip was spent exploring urban, cultural terrains. Subsequent chapters of the Redstar Guide to come.

but feel free not to join my LinkedIn account…

Seems I was relatively prolific despite being on a pseudo-honeymoon for the last 2.5 weeks.  Take note of the new sub-category in my “Travel” section - “Chile & Brazil.”  Knew I was feeding my blogging addiction while I was away, but didn’t quite tally up that it amounted to almost every other day!  We’ll have to see if I can cut the cord should the M.A.S. make it to an actual post-nuptials vacation!  (Settle down all you romantics out there; we’re goin’ strong as ever, but such an event will be no time soon, if for no other reason than we’ll be paying off this trip for some time to come!  Sadly, the end-of-the-year graduate student performance bonus just doesn’t make the same dent it used to…)

So the photos have gone live, check them out on Shutterfly:

http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=8AZNWjlq5ZOXEg

You don’t need to sign-up to view them, which is a new(er), and the best, feature of the Shutterfly site (cuz it sure ain’t their upload and organizing functions).  I tried to join the Flickr fabuloso’s, but trying to fit in over there while also trying to learn how to better exploit the features of this blog proved too much, and I just gave up on both.  Better to just hunker down with all the mom’s on Shutterfly and save the hipster free photo-sharing technologies for another time. 

Speaking of mom’s, for those of you following along here, consider the ~100 photos posted as ~6 months of the baby shots I faithfully look through (and enjoy!) each month.  As for the rest of you, I don’t have much to guilt you with, and hope you’re just into snapshots of urban vistas and cheery, slightly sauced Americans cavorting in warm climes while you’re cursing the rapidly falling mercury. 

The trip, once again, was rad.  Accompanying posts to follow. 

Apparently, I planned my homecoming perfectly with the Golden Globes, landing in Boston in time for a pre-awards show dinner followed by an awkward hobble to my couch in time for some of the more touching awards speeches (Ugly Betty, the fabulous America Ferrera, Forest Whitaker, and of course, Shonda Rimes).  As I catch up on sleep and neurotically examine my now deflated feet for further tell tale signs there’s a blood clot cruising around inside me, I embrace being home with energetic perusing of the post-Globes fashion analysis that acknowledges the true competition behind these awards shows.  Best Actress, no problem; Best Dressed, now that’s another story.

There are multiple reasons I love the fashion coverage.  A) I love clothes.  B) I crave fame.  C) I love lists.  D) I love criticism.  Watching these women parade around and listening to the increasingly waxy Rivers women and their fashion industry colleagues “ooooohhhh” and “aagghh!” over the outfits is much more fun when imagining what I’d turn up in in my fantasized red carpet moments.  I have no doubt I’d pull off sleek and elegant in the early years before being slammed as tacky and excessive once I started to get comfortable with the coverage.  Those who’ve known me a long time should easily recall my puffy socks and Reebok Princess hi-tops in junior high, with oversized peace symbol earrings, garguantuan earrings of bubble-yum boxes, and huge smiley face danglies as well.  Alternating pink and blue trim on the hi-tops kept pace with alternating pink and blue glasses that my old friend Dave lovingly told me resembled Sally Jesse’s.

(this is the same guy who, when he saw me in my back brace from my Jamaica fall at 25, immediately mimicked the scoliosis chick trying to get a drink of water in Sixteen Candles. With friends like these!…)

So imagine my sympathies this morning when I discovered one of my favorite celebrity Massholes on MSN’s Worst Dressed list.  Everett-born Ellen Pompeo being likened to Donald Duck, though she apparently came so close to looking good (unlike this filly, who none of us should ever hope to keep company with in fashion’s post-game wrap-up).  Hopefully I fared slightly better than Ellen at the Santiago wedding that was the impetus for my 2.5 week vacation from which I’m now recovering (minus the rock-hard abs, of course):

After all, it’s important to keep up with glam friends… 

and amazing scenery…

And now I’m back, sitting in my pj’s at my kitchen table, listening to NPR while the M.A.S. (who, btw, also looked fabulous at the wedding but who’s identi