Yesterday morning I woke up early, ready to ride. It seems that finally my circadian rhythm and the Earth's rotation are coming into alignment. It always happens that way this time of year. I'll be fine until around mid-January, then I sink into some kind of slump until late March, and finally begin to feel some energy coming back some time in April. So I rode a bit harder than usual on Tuesday and relished every second of it. If I hadn't gone over my father's house last night and consumed large quantities of wine, all would have been well. Fifteen minutes after getting home I was out for the count. That is, until I woke up quite thirsty around midnight. But all was well by morning when I rode out to meet the levee ride group, so I guess my liver function is still adequate. It was a nice typical Wednesday ride with about a dozen riders and a steady pace of 22-25 the whole way out and back. Courney E was there telling us about the big snake that surprised her (and her little dog too) in the backyard of her new house in Mandeville. Her husband came out and dispatched the creature, much to the chagrin of Donald who had been known to stop and pick up snakes and turtles during training rides, bringing them back home in his jersey pockets.After the morning ride, as I approached my house I saw a welcome sight. The debris pick-up crew was on our block! This was really exciting. Three of the neighbors were out front watching. Our block was down to just one remaining pile of Katrina debris, which was in front of my next-door neighbor's house. This should be the final load of debris on our block. It's been eight months now since Katrina, for those who are counting. Now if we can just get the Sewerage & Water Board out there to fix the water leak two houses down that has grown alarmingly over the past few weeks, we would be home free! What started as a soggy area near the water meter immediately after Katrina has now grown into a miniature marshland complete with a gurgling spring and babbling brook flowing down the block to the storm drain. It's been so long that we are concerned about the roots of the large Oak tree that it's under.
So it looks like I'm going to be putting together Tulane's proposal to the Board of Regents for our $15.3M portion of the Department of Education Katrina Relief for Higher Education fund. Should be interesting. The 37-pages of documents attached to the request for proposals seems to have been designed to make it as difficult as possible, quite inappropriately incorporating 34 CFR 74-99 into the whole thing as if it were a regular grant. Ah well, that's why I get the big bucks, eh? Meanwhile, the First Lady was in town today making some awards from a Foundation to some local schools to help rebuild their libraries.
2 comments:
I love reading your blog and getting an "insider's" perspective on what Katrina has done to your city, and to your life. Your day-to-day life. You give details the newspapers don't.
Does it ever feel weird to go cycling amongst the damage? I always feel that way, at least... like after a strong wind storm, where tree branches are down, fallen on people's cars, lawns, etc... and they're out there cleaning up their property, and I'm riding my bike past... ho-hum.
I know I shouldn't stop cycling, because that's what I enjoy. I guess I just think it's a strange duality? Recreational enjoyment through a disaster zone. Maybe kind of like those nut-cases that ride their bikes around the world and pedal through war zones?!?!
Indeed it feels strange sometimes, especially riding through New Orleans East. On the one hand, you feel guilty that you are able to even contemplate doing something as trivial as a training ride. On the other, you feel that it's somehow important to show that some of the "normal" things are still intact. There are quite a few areas of the city that I have intentionally avoided because I know it's bad and I know how bad it is, and going there just serves no purpose. It seems kind of wrong to be sightseeing, under the circumstances. The really wierd thing is the stark contrast from one area of the city to the other, sometimes only a few blocks away. Much of the uptown area and Magazine street is lively, busy and thriving along the curve of the river where there was little flooding, but mid-city is still sparsely occupied, the black scum lines still evident five or six feet up on the sides of all of the houses and buildings. Every morning on my commute to work I ride through mid-city from uptown to downtown. When I start, everything is nice and people are going about relatively normal lives. Within a mile people are still gutting houses and repairing roofs. The stoplights don't work. You occasionally catch a whif of rotting food. Businesses are closed. Then, a few blocks from work things start to improve again. Wierd.
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