Posts Tagged ‘NOLA’

A Piece Of The Fire – – Notebooks Rescued From The Warehouse Fire Arrive In My House

March 5th, 2012 1 Comment

For more than a week the box sat propped up against my dresser. I didn’t want to open it because I didn’t think I was strong enough to face what I expected was inside.The box contained some items rescued from the New Orleans squat fire that took place 12/28/10, which I wrote about for The Boston Review.

 

Today I spread a towel out on my bed and opened the box carefully, with reverence for the dead. As the scissors cut through the thick tape, I thought about how whatever I found inside, I knew these items were the most important things in the world to the person who died, the things he or she clung to even when they clung to little else in the world.

 

The first layer of the box was the notebooks, some of which had fallen to pieces, their pages curled by the water that extinguished the fire and their edges singed. There also was a bunch of pages that had been ripped from a spiral bound notebook. The ink on those was blurred by the water, making much of the writing illegible.

The first small notebook opened to this poem

I’ll tell you all my secrets
Just like I told you then
They say it will get better
But never where or when

I’ve got a brick in my hand
And an eye on your new man
Now tell me what I shouldn’t do
Now tell why I should listen to you.

In another battered notebook that had no cover I found:

“Dear Mom,

“Please be gentle with me. I’m half stoned on whiskey and pain pills (the poor man’s health insurance). I hurt my neck helping Elise move her gear. Anyway I’m sorry . . .”

Elise, I thought. Did I interview anyone named Elise?

I looked through my notes and couldn’t find anyone by that name, but then I found the definitive clue: the cover of a notebook that had the slogan of the Omaha, Nebraska bar Bones, where Justin Lutz hung out. “BONES: The Drinks Are Stiffer Than Rigor Mortis.”

I called his former wife, Kat Wise, to describe some of the things in the box. I’m going to send her the box and she can disperse to the people who would cherish these poems and the things he reveals about his life in his journal.

I opened the journal and read a few pages, then suddenly felt as if I had no business intruding on these private writings. There was a unique melancholy to Justin’s writing, resignation and sadness eloquently expressed. There were so many poems in these pages, some by Edgar Allen Poe and verses from Shakespeare, as well as by Justin.

Justin had a way of pulling you into his world, his cousin Jamie Hogshooter said, and of making it a world built for two. I can feel this in my struggle with myself not to read any more of his private writing. Sitting here, with the smell of smoke from the warehouse fire on my hands makes me tear up for all that was lost in the fire that night as well as the battered bits of beauty that remain.

Talk Of The Nation features “A World On Fire”

February 28th, 2012 No Comments

 

Of the three radio interviews I did for my story in The Boston Review “A World On Fire: Life and Death in a New Orleans Squat” this one is my favorite. First off because it features the beautiful voice and memories of Marty Goslee Jaramillo, the mother of Katie Simianer, one of the eight who died in the New Orleans warehouse fire that is at the center of my story.

The love for Katie in Marty’s voice is pure and strong, particularly when Neal Conan asks her if she thought Katie was happy living the life of a hobo, “Oh, I know she was,” Marty says. I knew this of my daughter too and, like Marty, I could hear it in Marissa’s voice every time we spoke on the phone.

In addition to Marty’s loving response, I enjoyed hearing the stories of the many people who called the show, some of whom had been or were traveling the country by rail, and the parents who were concerned about their children, or concerned that their children might choose to hop trains. One caller said he was relieved to hear this program because he had been so worried, so angry, when his daughter disappeared. This father, named Forest, was soothed by knowing that his daughter had joined a culture, not just fallen  into degradation and danger.  Forest said that at Christmas his family, furious with the girl,  had decided none of them would  send his daughter money as an expression of disapproval. I offered my unasked-for opinion that he should send her money anyway.

The immediacy of my feeling about this surprised me. When my daughter left town to hop trains, I had the same feeling as Forest. I said that I wouldn’t send her a dime, and I was furious when her father sent her some money. I had believed then that if I was stern and tough, communicating nothing but disapproval,  my daughter would feel shame and return home to please me. If I sent her money, wasn’t I in some way endorsing this terrifying way of life? So she should get nothing, which would hasten her return because she’d see just how rough it was out there.

After my year in and out of New Orleans I see this completely differently, as I said in “World On Fire.” Parents have very little control over children when they are young adults. I could be stern, or I could be accepting, but the journey my daughter was on was her own, and it really had very little to do with my opinions. In the end what would bring her back, I realized, was that she knew she was loved and that home was a safer place than the road. If all I communicated was scorn, why would she ever want to come home? Home in many ways might feel as dangerous to her as a treacherous train yard.

The advice I gave Forest was to send his daughter, who rarely asked him for anything, a few dollars. If he sent her $50, she’d eat that night and so would her friends. Or maybe they’d use that money to rent a motel and get shelter from a storm. When she was ready to come home, she would find her way back.

It is humbling for a parent to understand how little influence he or she has, so my message  was one that expressed not my sense of my power, but my sense of how deep my love for my daughter was, and how realizing that took me down a peg or three.

I’ve often wondered since this radio program aired if Forest sent his daughter money, and if he talked it over with his family members who said he should not. I hope for all of their sakes that he did. Fifty bucks is just fifty bucks, but it can mean the world to someone who is down on their luck enough to call home.

The interview is half an hour in length so I must post it here in two parts.

 

talk of the nation travelers 1:25:12 part 1

talk of the nation travelers 1:25:12 Part 2

Travelers – – World On Fire featured on WBUR “Here And Now”

February 27th, 2012 No Comments
Morning after the fire, under the warehouse floor

Morning after the fire, under the warehouse floor

 

 

A World On Fire: Life And Death In A New Orleans Squat, my story that is in the current issue of The Boston Review, was featured on the WBUR program “Here and Now.”  This was the only radio interview I did  that  included my daughter Marissa, and Marissa’s beautiful song “Windowsill.”

The interviewer Robin Young did a good job of blending the stories of the eight people who died in the warehouse squat fire, which is the centerpiece of this article, with her interest in what was happening between Marissa and me while she was traveling the county as essentially a young hobo.  My daughter and I both heard in Ms. Young’s voice that was shocked by what she had read about the life of the young people who choose the rails over school and jobs.  Many of Ms. Young’s questions were inflected by the sentiment of: How could you do this to your parents? or Why didn’t you stop her?  It was surprising to be faced with those questions after all this time.  Between my daughter and me, we’ve settled all of that.

The audio clip and a brief intro to the piece is still up on the WBUR website under the title “Inside The World of’ Travelers,’ Who Leave Home, Live As Squatters”  The piece  has stimulated a sparky conversation between those who have lived the way my daughter and her friends did, and  people who disdain them.

http://www.maryjones.us tlachtga

Is this newsworthy because women are doing this now? Or is this just another helicopter-parenting  freakout over “kids” who are legally adults?

That comment about helicopter parenting really gave me a laugh, as I bet it would anyone who knew me when I was raising my kids.  My guess is the woman who commented didn’t read the story or she would have understood the very many things about this lifestyle that cause a parent to worry, even if that child is of legal age.

The comments I found the most interesting were from young people who are living this life, or used to.  This one from Matthew Waldrop i caught my eye:

“I know that most of the people I have associated with that went down this destructive path were extremely passionate and intelligent people. I know that in this subculture there is a judgement and a general discontent for our society  and a belief that the society itself is broken and a need to withdraw from it for whatever reason. A great number of people I have know however were extremely talented either musically, artistically and highly creative and yearning for a change in our world, wanting a better world. now whether living this type of lifestyle contributes to any type of recognized change I do not believe this to be the case. But in my own life my struggle to remain independent be myself and not conform to society or conform to another has left me better off. I am an entrepreneur, I am an artist and I have a thriving business that I raise my family from. I do not think that I would have the independence and freedom in my adult life  that I now have if I did not come from the life I have led. I regret nothing.”

“I regret nothing,” is a comment I heard often when I was interviewing traveling kids in New Orleans. Disdain them if you will, my experience getting to know them showed me over and over again that this dangerous life is a choice they made freely.

Attaching here the interview with “Here and Now” and my daughter Marissa’s song “Windowsill.”

There was only a bit of “Windowsill” aired at the end of the interview. Of  all the beautiful songs she’s written, this is one of my favorites. Evidently it has touched other people too. When she and I were walking in the French Quarter while we were working on this story, I often heard buskers playing “Windowsill” although I bet they didn’t know who wrote it. Marissa told me that one of the buskers in New Orleans  loved the song so much, he hopped a train to Oakland and went directly to Marissa’s house to thank her for writing it.

travelers WBUR Here and Now

Windowsill by Marissa Spoer