'Ain't Nothing But a Movie'

Many streets in New Orleans still look forlorn and deserted. Photo: courtesy of Marcus Mundy

"The idea concerns the fact that this country wants nostalgia. They want to go back as far as they can -- even if it's only as far as last week. Not to face now or tomorrow, but to face backwards. And yesterday was the day of our cinema heroes riding to the rescue at the last possible moment. The day of the man in the white hat or the man on the white horse - or the man who always came to save America at the last moment -- someone always came to save America at the last moment -- especially in 'B' movies. And when America found itself having a hard time facing the future, they looked for people like John Wayne. But since John Wayne was no longer available, they settled for Ronald Reagan -- and it has placed us in a situation that we can only look at -- like a 'B' movie."

The excerpt above, from a Gil Scott-Heron song called "B Movie", came frequently to mind during my stay in New Orleans, particularly the refrain of the song:

"This ain't really your life,
Ain't really your life,
Ain't really ain't nothing but a movie."

The first part of this song came to mind because many of the people we encountered wanted to "face backwards," opining "what-if" after inconsequential "what-if". What if a review of the levee system had been conducted earlier, with a remediation prior to this tragedy? What if information about the severity or risks of danger had been communicated earlier? What if one of the two bridges in and out of the Ninth Ward had been accessible during the hurricane, rather than lifted up? What if the damage had been to the French Quarter and the Garden District, rather than the poorer sections of the city? What if the displaced and deceased had not been Black?

Many of the folks just wished someone, or something, or some government had swept in to save them at the last minute. It wasn't meant to be.

The song's refrain reminded me of how they feel now. It's as if they are living through someone else's life and not their own. As if, like a movie, once the closing credits roll, they can leave the theater and continue happily with their pre-Katrina lives. Many conversations confirmed this feeling - conversations with my family, Leroy the doorman at the hotel, the folks we met in our tours, even locals in the restaurants we visited. It was always more wistful than real, however they were brutally grounded in reality and knew that the "road home" was not going to be that easy.

I guess I prefaced all of my remarks about this day, our day of action, because I believe context is key as I begin to describe how my day went.

There were many projects available to us today. Some of us planted trees. Some carefully tore down homes. Some built a storage facility for the Oregon products yet to be shipped down to New Orleans. And some cleaned up neighborhoods.

Our group, which included fellow Oregonians Myron Fleck, Tom Kelly, Maxine Fitzpatrick, Jan Woodruff, Vicki Tagliafico, chose to help rebuild New Orleans by helping small business recover. Small business is widely recognized as the backbone of most regional economies, and we figured if we could help them, our time will have been well spent. Our task was to mentor several small business owners trying to get something going post-Katrina.

The entrepreneurs ranged from a fisherman to a construction owner to a nonprofit to a landscaper to others. We worked with them individually and in groups, on issues ranging from marketing to priority-setting to strategy to taxes to administration to IT to communications to finance.

All of these professionals were focused on success, committed, willing to work hard, smart and willing to do what it takes. They certainly did not fit the more-than-occasional characterization of malingerers awaiting a government handout to bail them out of their problems. Each member of our mentoring team committed to maintaining contact with our "mentees" until we are sure they have received the needed benefit from our interactions.

That night, the closing reception and report-outs were highlighted by the downloads of the success of each of the respective work projects; by the comments of Sho and Loen Dozono (the King and Queen of Mardi Gras); and by both humorous and moving commentary by leaders of the United Way (Brent Stewart), the American Red Cross (Thomas Bruner), Michael Stewart of the Portland Water Bureau, the Urban League of Portland (moi) and many others. Poignant were the final comments of the evening, as they came from New Orleanians themselves: survivors, rebuilders, and leaders all.

The good part is that, after a long day of laboring, planting, guiding, mentoring, deconstructing, reporting the results of the day at the evening's final gathering and, above all, cooperating with folks in New Orleans, it became clear to me that New Orleans will come back. Curiously, the final thought that came to mind as I shut my eyes was that the seven principles of Kwanzaa reflected the determined New Orleanians I encountered during this trip.

1. Umoja (Unity) To strive for and maintain unity in the family, community, and nation.
2. Kujichagulia (Self-Determination) To define ourselves, name ourselves, create for ourselves and speak for ourselves.
3. Ujima (Collective Work and Responsibility) To build and maintain our community together and make our brothers' and sisters' problems our problems and to solve them together.
4. Ujamaa (Cooperative Economics) To build and maintain our own stores, shops and other businesses and to profit from them together.
5. Nia (Purpose) To make our collective vocation the building and developing of our community in order to restore our people to their traditional greatness.
6. Kuumba (Creativity) To do always as much as we can, in the way we can, in order to leave our community more beautiful and beneficial than we inherited it.
7. Imani (Faith) To believe with all our heart in our people, our parents, our teachers, our leaders and the righteousness and victory of our struggle.

Tomorrow, I will focus on my family.