It's Love, and It's Worth Fighting For.

Sandy's working on a film, and as always in that industry, her schedule is weird right now. She's staying a little bit across town with AJ, to have some time together and to make it easier to get to set. Thus her lovely little house being open to wayward hobos*, hurray!

We were hoping since we finally got a whole nights' sleep and had a (ahhhhh) relatively easy day today, and don't have to get Q onto the LA Swift Bus until the decadently late hour of 8:00 am tomorrow that maybe we could stay awake long enough to hang out with her after she got off at 10:00. We were both getting a little noddish when AJ called, but knowing we could see them woke us right up. We felt brave enough to adventure out into the surprisingly quiet city streets. Our navigation skills are up to par, we are learning patience, the road names are memorable, and if you DO get lost, it's a treat to see another tiny slice of this strange and gorgeous city.

AJ lives on the corner of St. Charles and 2^nd, not too far from Sandy. When we got there and the doorman automatically buzzed us in, I felt like I was on a tv show. We went up to his floor, watched the last few minutes of the Lakers/Celtics game, and then all went up to the roof.

When the door opened, I was struck like first love. Like a hurricane. Like finding out Santa's not real. Like the best hit of the best drug ever. I was simultaneously elated and devastated the minute I stepped out of the hall onto a wide, wooden deck, nine stories above what is unarguably one of the most beautiful, spectacular, unique, inventive, lush, decadent, delicious, dirty cities on the planet.

A big crescent moon is lording over the entire sky tonight. There are just enough scraps of cloud to make it almost comically picturesque. (It only took me seconds after the initial gasp to think of Miyazaki-San.) We were just a few miles behind the line where the trees of the garden district run into the crescent of the quarter. Close to his building, for miles around it was mostly dark, a forest of glorious oaks**** spread out like a glittering net above the streets with all the beautiful, old buildings showing beneath. We could see into the lit windows and lofts of other late night people, we could hear the near and distant sounds of life. The deck went all the way around the building and so there is a panoramic view of the entire city there, from the Greater New Orleans bridge, brilliant with light, to the dark, smooth shape of the super-dome, like a planet surrounded by the rings of the highways, and all the way back. City entire. From the gleam of the river and the glow of the Quarter, to the silent edges past the levees where the smoke-stacks stand guard, we could see it all.

I was stunned. I still am. I told AJ and Sandy that this was hands down the best thing I'd experienced on this trip. Being able to soak in that view, that way, at my leisure, to look and long and wonder for as long (well, almost. ;) as I wanted, to let my eyes drink in the lights alone, was … well, like I told AJ – some people want to go to a spa, I want to walk around that deck on a night like this.

At first I thought I was being selfish. We've seen and experienced so many amazing things on this journey, how could I be so impressed and comforted by this singular, selfish thing? But then I realized – it's not just the physical beauty, it's this CITY. It's the kind of people, and lifestyle and culture that can create a city like this. It's this weird, funky, colorful, stubborn, gritty, amazing place, like ALL the coastal communities – but this city is their King. I have joked all along this journey that we should start the NCSCC – the National Coalition to Save Coonass Culture - that they were the major endangered species here, but this shouldn't be a joke. When Katrina hit, the rest of the world got their first little concentrated glimpse inside the Spanish Moss Curtain, but sadly then, they saw so much of the dark side. In the recovery effort, they got to see a little of the strength and ingenuity of the people here, but it wasn't until the Super Bowl this year that America got a little more of an idea about the brilliant side of the Gulf Coast. Neither Hurricane Katrina nor the Saints victory happened to just New Orleans. The whole Gulf Coast (and in some cases, some small enclaves of expats in other places) were all affected. The scope of what's happening now (and Texas and the East Coast, beware - you are going to find out) is going to reach from this blazing city down to the tiniest little inlet communities and this time, it could be fatal.

Looking out over the whole city, the feeling I was struck with was love. Harder than I've ever fallen in love with any person (almost as much as Luna ;), I just felt like protecting it. Giving it my all. Cheering it on, cleaning it up, whatever it takes. And not just as New Orleans, but as the Crown of the Coast. I realized that all these wonderful, beautiful communities are all tied together, first, by their unique way of life and now by the unavoidable fallout from this disaster and I knew suddenly, and without a doubt why I came on this journey. From places like Holly Beach and Opelousas and Baton Rouge, all the communities that comprise GNO, and Ponchitoulas, Buras, Bogalusa, Ocean Springs, Kiln, Dedeaux, Pearl River, Pascagoula, Fairhope, Mobile, Magnolia Springs, Daphne, Foley, Spanish Fort, Pensacola, Appalachacola and on – they're all connected by something other than the Gulf, something other than the disasters that have hit this place so hard - the people and lifestyle of the coast. They all share a culture that is not like anything else in the WORLD, much less anything else in this country, and it is possibly the second biggest crime of all that this unnatural disaster may destroy it before the rest of the world had a chance to even know what it's really all about. No one outside the region really knows the passion and generosity of these people, the almost childlike trust. The shades of skin and accent, the ability to turn anything, even nasty swamp bugs into something useful (and tasty!) and trash into something beautiful, the perseverance and even eventual CHEERFULNESS and HUMOUR in the face of things that would keep others from even CONSIDERING trying, no one can understand until the have truly been immersed in Gulf Coastal Culture.

Watching Quincy and Chris B. (who is from New Jersey) learn to quickly adjust and adapt to this way of life and then be consumed by the openness and beauty and abundant generosity of it in these weeks has really opened my eyes to this aspect of what's at risk here. It's love. And it's worth fighting for.

*I'm taking it back.

**This is such an understatement that it is RIDICULOUS – but I DID get some work done, volunteer and domestic.

***I am shocked to find out what a bumpkin I still really am, even at almost 42.

****When Katrina hit, people were worried that the oaks might die from the polluted, standing flood waters. I was worried about that too, and that inspired the beginning of this poem. It was comforting to look down on the summer city and see them all so lush and thriving. 'Life will find a way.'

Oil Boom Shortage? Grassroots May Be Final Hope

Those long orange snakes of plastic and rubber now so ubiquitous on the evening news; where is it all coming from? Some has been flown in on Air-force transport planes from state stockpiles in Alaska, some from Washington State, but maybe not for long. Sure, there are manufactures making the stuff too, and because the need grows more urgent by the hour many factories have ramped up production to levels unmatched in their histories. Some companies are even asking how long they can keep up with this kind of demand. On NOLA.com yesterday, Nick Naayers, vice president of American Boom & Barrier in Cape Canaveral, Fla., said he can make a little less than a mile per day but is worried about finding raw resources in the quantities necessary to keep up with demand.

There’s not enough out there for the magnitude of this spill. You’re not going to be able to make enough. Look at that coastline. We’re making everything we can, as fast as we can. It’s all going up there. But nobody’s going to maintain this amount of boom in stock.

In a May 12th press release, Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal stressed the state’s need for more booms.

On our visit to Terrebonne Parish yesterday, I stressed the need for more boom in Terrebonne, Lafourche, and St. Mary parishes and the other areas of our coast west of the River. These areas need more boom quickly to protect their coast. I want to be very clear that we need more boom in Louisiana. Terrebonne, Lafourche, St. Mary, Jefferson, and St. Bernard parishes all have outstanding requests for boom with the Coast Guard. We are again today urging the Coast Guard and BP to put this boom where it is most immediately needed.

Rep. Charlie Melancon has told WDSU.com, “Our Louisiana fishermen…, were facing a severe shortage in boom material, hindering their ability to protect our coast.”

U.S. Coast Guard Adm. Thad Allen, national incident commander for the spill, told the Wall Street Journal on Friday the government might have to pull supplies of boom from other parts of the country. And in a separate WSJ piece from the same day Adm. Allen went on to say,

I’m talking about looking at boom the same way as we would look at manufacturing across the industrial base, maybe on a wartime footing—because boom is going to become that important, because everybody wants it, needs it and is trying to get it,

Peter Lane, president of boom and oil spill equipment manufacturer Applied Fabric Technologies in New York, told NOLA.com on May 7th,

he doubted that all the boom manufacturers in the western world would be able to produce half a million feet of hard boom in a year’s time. Good luck., he said, They aren’t going to find millions of feet,

Now, DHR and the Department of Environmental Protection are discouraging private residents from laying hairbooms themselves while holding the line on accepting hairbooms for delivery and distribution through authorized channels. Yesterday a release from Tallahassee DHR listed rules for homeowners which on the surface even sound threatening,

• If a boom is placed by a private citizen, that individual assumes responsibility for the boom, including the chance it could dislodge into the water or be harmful to wildlife.
• Booms placed by private citizens that become impacted by oil are the responsibility of that individual and require special authorization for removal and proper disposal.
• Alternative absorption methods, such as placing hay bales, homemade hair booms, sandbags or other technology along the shoreline, are not advisable as the overall debris from disposal of such methods would increase and could cause serious long-term damage.

If Deepwater Horizon Response and the DEP are afraid to use hairbooms and other low-tech, proven grass-roots sources because they may seem desperate then so be it, the situation calls for desperate measures. And besides, they should know, people need to feel like they can take part in this. We need something to do other than wait for a black tide to roll ashore. What’s wrong with families and children cutting their hair and saving it? If it only soaks up some of the oil great, that’s some-more that won’t kill a bird or a turtle’s egg.

Take part and help out!

Matteroftrust.org
Alabama Gulf Shores Zoo
Audubon Society
Sierra Club
Save Our Shores Foundation
Help Save the Gulf Shores
Oiled Wildlife Rescue Volunteers

There’s a lot more out there, just ask me!
ChrisBunny! Blog

"We live in an oil-dependent world, and have got to this level of dependency in a very short space of time, using vast reserves of oil in the process – without planning for when the supply is not so plentiful. Most of us avoid thinking about what happens when oil runs out (or becomes prohibitively expensive), but The Transition Handbook shows how the inevitable and profound changes ahead can have a positive outcome. These changes can lead to the rebirth of local communities, which will grow more of their own food, generate their own power, and build their own houses using local materials. They can also encourage the development of local currencies, to keep money in the local area."
                                                                                                                      - from The Transition Handbook by Rob Hopkins 

From the Transition United States site:

Why Transition?

We are living in an age of unprecedented change, with a number of crises converging. Climate change, global economic instability, overpopulation, erosion of community, declining biodiversity, and resource wars, have all stemmed from the availability of cheap, non-renewable fossil fuels. Global oil, gas and coal production is predicted to irreversibly decline in the next 10 to 20 years, and severe climate changes are already taking effect around the world. The coming shocks are likely to be catastrophic if we do not prepare. As Richard Heinberg states:

Our central survival task for the decades ahead, as individuals and as a
species, must be to make a transition away from the use of fossil fuels –
and to do this as peacefully, equitably, and intelligently as possible”.

The Transition movement represents one of the most promising ways of engaging people and communities to take the far-reaching actions that are required to mitigate the effects of peak oil, climate change and the economic crisis. Furthermore, these relocalization efforts are designed to result in a life that is more fulfilling, more socially connected and more equitable than the one we have today.

The Transition model is based on a loose set of real world principles and practices that have been built up over time through experimentation and observation of communities as they drive forward to reduce carbon emissions and build community resilience. Underpinning the model is a recognition of the following:

• Peak Oil, Climate Change and the Economic Crisis require urgent action
• Adaptation to a world with less oil is inevitable
• It is better to plan and be prepared, than be taken by surprise
• Industrial society has lost the resilience to be able to cope with shocks to its systems
• We have to act together and we have to act now
• We must negotiate our way down from the “peak” using all our skill, ingenuity and intelligence
• Using our creativity and cooperation to unleash the collective genius within our local communities will lead to a more abundant, connected and healthier future for all.

The Transition Movement believes that is up to us in our local communities to step into a leadership position on this situation. We need to start working now to mitigate the interrelated effects of peak oil, climate change, and the economic crisis, before it is too late. Together we can make a difference.

Vision

Our vision is that every community in the United States has engaged its collective creativity to unleash an extraordinary and historic transition to a future beyond fossil fuels; a future that is more vibrant, abundant and resilient; one that is ultimately preferable to the present.

Mission 

Transition US is a resource and catalyst for building resilient communities across the United States that are able to withstand severe energy, climate or economic shocks while creating a better quality of life in the process. We will accomplish our mission by inspiring, encouraging, supporting, networking and training individuals and their communities as they consider, adopt, adapt, and implement the Transition approach to community empowerment and change.

The Transition approach is based on four key assumptions:

1. That life with dramatically lower energy consumption is inevitable, and that it’s better to plan for it than to be taken by surprise. 

2. That our communities currently lack resilience. 

3. That we have to act collectively, and we have to act now to build community resilience and prepare for life without fossil fuels. 

4. That by unleashing the collective genius of our communities it is possible to design new ways of living that are more nourishing, fulfilling and ecologically sustainable.

"Thank you so much for all YOU are doing. It means a lot for someone to come this far and "GET IT!" We need more people like you. When you are down here you are more paralyzed by the scope - you shut down and lose hope. Having y'all here does give us hope - if that makes sense! Thank you again!!!"   -  Kelley Wolff Lyons


Today was the first "normal" day we've had in two weeks. We didn't have any major obligations other than laundry, grocery-shopping, making dinner and making calls and plans for the rest of the trip. We even had time to watch junk tv. We've all been on the raw edge since before we left - it's why I decided to make this trip in the first place - and we've had more than a few stressful, emotional moments (in some cases hours) since this news first broke, but we've managed to hold it together and just do what needed to be done. More than one person we've talked to has said they've just managed by focusing on whatever's next and we certainly understand. We've driven for more miles than we could count, struggled to stay in touch, make appointments and get interviews, camped in frankly stupid conditions, had blistering days working in the sun, been lost (literally and figuratively) and scared, had car problems, minor injuries, sunburns, been bug-ridden beyond belief, had run-ins with BP employees, Coast Guard, Wackenhut guards and faced the irreparable heartbreak of seeing the devastation up close, feet in oil, watching little shoreline creatures struggling to their inevitable deaths. All of that has taken a brutal toll on our mental and emotional balance, and I believe we will be dealing with the scars from this for the rest of our lives, but as hard as all of that has been, this day has been the hardest. 
When you are working, moving, writing, posting, doing something, you can focus on that and feel like you are making an impact. Even if it's just shoring up someone else's effort or emotional balance, you can concentrate on something other than your own feelings and the overall, overwhelming reality of all that is happening here. But when the time came to try to relax and regroup, the big picture began to sink in. I couldn't help but wonder, after all I've seen, learned and experienced, how I could just be going about such mundane business while the world around me seems to be dying, just like those little crabs and other creatures I watched struggling on the oil-soaked beach. I can't help but wonder how, if, I will be able to return to normal life after seeing grown men cry, watching small volunteer groups work furiously to beat the black tide, feet from the incoming oil, listening to a 6 year old boy who is obsessed with what is literally happening in his own yard, seeing people's lives be completely destroyed and understanding that they are completely lost and have no idea what to do next... 
What I am doing here is SO small. I consider myself to be a realist, and I can't help but wonder if I am really making ANY difference, if there is any point to this at all. I am just one little infinitesimal "David", facing a savage "Goliath" the size of Cthulhu's* big brother. This realism is one of the many reasons that this 'day off' went by in a fog. Just like every other day, I just did what I had to get done, but my heart and mind were heavy. I guess I'm lucky that my dogged little internal optimist won't give up though. She tells me that if ALL the Davids band together and just keep throwing rocks, there's a chance, there's at least some HOPE. Sometimes, I want to tell her to shut heck up and just let me sleep - forever - but she's loud, and ultimately I believe that she's right. I'm not sure where that optimism originally comes from, and I figure it's best not to question it at this point, but I sure know what keeps it going. It's all of you. People like our hostess, Amanda Bacon, local resident, activist and business owner Kelly Lyons, who posted that precious note on my Facebook page today, and of course all of our friends back home, along the Coast and across the country who have cheered us on, sent donations and otherwise helped us keep our heads above water. Even before we began this journey, the people in our own community back home in and around Tryon and Asheville, NC rushed to support this sudden, last-minute endeavor without question, offering supplies, donating their hair for booms, loan of gear, and helping us raise the money we needed to get here and stay on the road. As we were getting ready to leave, it's as if we were packing little pieces of home to bring along with us. We were grateful then, but at the time we really had no idea how important that would be, spiritually speaking, when the reality of this finally hit us.When things have been darkest, I have pictured our little place on the Pacolet, dear friends around the bonfire, the sweet, hopeful faces of the people who came out to help us when they found out we were leaving, and of course, all the kids we know and spend time with there. This is THEIR future we're dealing with here in the Gulf. As soon as we made the decision to stay on and realized we would need more funds to keep us going (needless to say we are all missing out on paid jobs while we are here) I bit the bullet and posted a 'donations' button on my blog and within 24 hours, we had at least enough money for gas to get us through the next week and then home, sent from friends and even strangers, all over the country, even though many of them are struggling to make ends meet themselves. We have had notes, calls, cheer-leading from every corner, on Chris' birthday, a complete stranger from northern Alabama dining next to us with his wife and teen-aged son overheard me talking on the phone with my oldest girlfriend  about what we're doing here and paid for our celebratorily expensive seafood dinner without us even knowing until after they were long gone. People have opened their homes and hearts to us, opened their mouths to tell their stories to us, and opened their eyes to what's happening here at our request. These things, all of these things, are like the booms holding the black oil back from our hearts. 
We cannot thank you enough. I don't know how we would manage all that we are trying to do without all of this help and love, and I don't know how I could go on if I couldn't do something. 
There's no way to know for sure yet whether anything we're doing is helping to save the Gulf, but we seem to be helping save others and we are definitely saving ourselves. I'm glad we'll be going back home with our eyes wide open, even if it hurts. I'll take pain over oblivion and ignorance any day - the pain will remind me to never, ever give up.

Photo by Chris Riddle

*Cthulhu is one of the central Great Old Ones of the Lovecraft Mythos. It is often cited for the extreme descriptions given of its hideous appearance, its gargantuan size, and the abject terror that it evokes. Cthulhu is often referred to in science fiction and fantasy circles as a tongue-in-cheek shorthand for extreme horror or evil.