Emily's May Inspiration "There Goes The Hood"

It was more than a restaurant, it was a symbol. And in the past decade, the last man standing in a sea of homogeny brought on by outsiders visiting the East Village on the weekends; dabbling in the hip, artistic, and edgy. Fact is MAMA'S was the neighborhood. At ten dollars a plate with a choice of meat and three sides, MAMA's was the spot you went for down home comfort. Nestled on 3rd St btw A & B, I walked past this soul food spot daily back in the nineties, sometimes stopping in just for a side of mash potatoes when the city got rough. They had the best veggies too, and if you didn't want meat you could get an extra side with their mac and cheese rivaling no other.

I encourage my yoga students to embrace change, to accept the only constant in our lives is just that. But as my old street in Alphabet City morphs into more and more sameness - that chain store, homogenized look that plagues our country - I have to cry out, 'Why this hood!?' Why the spot where artists flocked to so they could be different and accepted? With the fortune tellers, druggies, and performance artists singing their tunes, graffiti walls and dive bars that embrace all kinds... Why must the demographic who desires sameness, who feels more comfortable in an OLIVE GARDEN than an authentic Italian dive invade the one place on the planet where we screwed the Man?

Those who infest the East Village on the weekends are in no way supporting the community and those who inhabit it. They leave and go back to their commutes and cubicles, and tell stories about how they had a 'crazy' weekend in the village. We lived there, many old-schoolers still do. It's our home, and place's like MAMA'S, or the old KING'S PHARMACY replaced by a DUANE READE were our pride, our joy and choice to remain original, authentic to ourselves. Most moved to the East Village against their society's wishes. To a far away land where parentals did not understand paying a thousand dollars a month for a shoebox apartment on Ave C, but we did and sacrificed to be there. The natives know the secret to Alphabet City is its character, its funkiness, and constant groove we so adore. With the closing of MAMA'S, I dare say...there goes the hood.

PEACE,

Archived Inspirations

on Growth

REMEMBERING NOLA

I had never been to New Orleans, though I've met some in my life who never missed a yearly visit. My first night was spent on Frenchman street, the best live music I've ever heard and that soulful sound of brass I now can't stop listening to permeated the air. It should be noted that every day I heard amazing music, Jazz Fest and beyond the town is filled with the most talented players steeped in the most respected of American traditions. I've developed a new fondness for tuba players, a new crush on the clarinet.

I had the good fortune of spending many a days on the steps of my dear friend's pad in Mid City. New Orleans has not lost the art of porch sitting, whether their homes are in the midst of rebuilding or not, the porch remains a viable place to pass the time. The air is heavy, thick, in fact it can weigh you down. Certainly this dictates the pace which is slow…like molasses or the meandering flow of the bayou. Each day I matched the rhythm more and more, I sunk into the days of high heat and full sun. 250, 000 trees were lost in what the natives now just call 'the storm,' and so shade is even harder to come by. But the trees that withstood and line the streets are beautiful, each shading a home with those southern pillars and porch swings.

People have been asking me- "how is she?"~ like when my sister was on her third week in a coma and everyone knew the answer was not good. But I'm happy to share with you beyond the occasional coverage from Brian Williams of the Nightly News~ New Orleans is struggling, fighting for its life and it's strong, let my tell you baby- she's fierce. Its people love the place like no other. Its people get the tradition and sacredness of its charm. It has been beaten, but not destroyed. On any given night of laughter and music we'd drive by the houses with the inspection X's still painted on the front of them; the numbers of dead, pets included still visable. I'd notice the uprooted trees, and piles of garbage still being cleared. Why aren't they further along I thought to myself? Why does it look like this all happened last month and not twenty ago? Would it be different if it were Cape Cod?

Don't get me wrong people's spirits are up, NOLA wants you to know they're gonna be OK. But I got mad when I visited the ninth ward. Cars folded literally in half still in the middle of streets marked by makeshift signs. Roofs collapsed everywhere, utter devastation that I'm not sure…no, in fact I know- I can't explain to you unless you've seen it with your own eyes. "What are they doing with this!? Who's gonna clean this up?!" My dear friend's parents who gutted their home in Lakeview and have been living in a toxic trailer provided by FEMA softened my indignation with their sweet smiles and tired souls. "We don't know…" they replied.

I ate every piece of shrimp I could, I tried the po'boys, the crawfish, the alligator. I walked the streets of many a neighborhood and waved to many a neighbor. I bought a shirt that says 'Make levees, not war" my pathetic attempt to say/do something. I danced to Kermit Ruffins and Harry Connick Jr. I drank their wine and walked their Bayou late at night. I cried when I saw the pictures of my friend's family in the days after. Why haven't we been helping them? Why have we forgotten?

There's a southern folklore tradition of a bottle tree, the bottles protected the homes from evil spirits by trapping the spirits inside and at 310 Polk St. in Lakeview there is a beautiful one, decorated in the weeks, months, and year after the storm. Neighbors have contributed, people who have heard about it or just drove by~ each bottle a story, a sign of hope unwavered. I visited this damaged oak tree, and got my picture taken next to it. It now hangs on my fridge and reminds me to say a prayer each day for New Orleans and its people…each day, it reminds me.

From my city to yours~Happy Summer,