Hail NO1/24/2000
Last night about bedtime, except I wasn't tired, and because it was stormy much of the day I was only mildly alarmed at the crashing noise from next door at the still burnt out Esnard Villa. Heavy rains sometimes make pieces of the house fall down and crash. But these noises soon became more reminiscent of its former occupants, my good little buddies, Justin, D'Andre, and Chris Alexander, who would occasionally, overwhelmed by boredom, hurl objects from the second floor of their house onto this one. Because the irregular syncopated beat was definitely being drummed out on this house now, and because I was able to remind myself that there are no occupants next door, I was at a loss to explain, I was in the dark, I was ignorant. And their was an element of bliss to that.
The next vivid image that came to mind was of a large group of heavily armed men firing off weapons from some distant courtyard, and the bullets were coincidently landing mostly on this roof. I was able to feel for a brief moment what I think would be the most literal interpretation of "under siege."
Then I opened the front door and witnessed, with my neighbors, a hail storm of gradually increasing intensity that did in short time become so severe and frightening that I rushed myself inside and shut the door. And then the wind kicked up another notch and the beating against this non-insulated hollow structure became what will later be called--memorable.
Not softball sized hail, and not golf ball sized hail, but definitely not pea sized either. It would be fairly accurate to say, ice cube sized hail.
Shelton was excited, thought it was snowing, "Is it snowing, Mr. Jim?" I told him no, and don't go outside. He asked would it hurt and I said, "Yes." He immediately got on the phone and called Glynn's mom, his Aunt Nettie, who along with BaBa, and others, lost the battle to keep the family home across the street, and now live in an upstairs apartment on Claiborne, near Frenchmen. "Nettie," Shelton exclaimed, "It snowing."
All of the windows on the vulnerable side of the house are double hung six over sixes. The hail that found glass made loud cracking noises to go along with the loud drumming against the wood siding, and hard asbestos roofing. I was gathering materials: a razor knife, cardboard, duct tape. In ten minutes the worst of it had passed. Mandy was vaccuming glass, Shelton was asking me the difference between snow and hail. I did not have a ready answer, so I asked him to get the ladder for me.
Five window panes busted out, probably that many more cracked. Hail was still hitting the house and I had three cardboard replacement panes cut and ready to place. In the time it took me to tape up the last two windows in the back, Mandy had gotten under the covers of her bed, Shelton on his couch.
It was about 11:30 by then, passed my bedtime, but I was taking Monday off so I stayed up and started reading this book sent to me by Jeff Franzen, called--Black Panthers for Beginners. Pretending to be nothing else, it is a pretty good simplistic, fairly liberal representation of the Panther History, with cartoon drawings.
In between pages I would think about this house I would like to buy, the second one I have been serious about since I started looking in earnest.
This morning I got a couple of loads of laundry going, found my tax returns in the attic, organized account numbers, phone numbers, addresses, and other stuff that applies to me, called the realtor and was told the house was already under contract.
It is 11:30 again, twelve hours later, and Shelton, who also seems to have Monday off, and has had his breakfast, is out the door wearing his insulated Dallas Cowboys warmup jacket.
I guess I'll go look at a house over in the lower ninth ward, on Chartres, and maybe that one over in Hollygrove, uptown near the river.
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Last night about bedtime, except I wasn't tired, and because it was stormy much of the day I was only mildly alarmed at the crashing noise from next door at the still burnt out Esnard Villa. Heavy rains sometimes make pieces of the house fall down and crash. But these noises soon became more reminiscent of its former occupants, my good little buddies, Justin, D'Andre, and Chris Alexander, who would occasionally, overwhelmed by boredom, hurl objects from the second floor of their house onto this one. Because the irregular syncopated beat was definitely being drummed out on this house now, and because I was able to remind myself that there are no occupants next door, I was at a loss to explain, I was in the dark, I was ignorant. And their was an element of bliss to that.
The next vivid image that came to mind was of a large group of heavily armed men firing off weapons from some distant courtyard, and the bullets were coincidently landing mostly on this roof. I was able to feel for a brief moment what I think would be the most literal interpretation of "under siege."
Then I opened the front door and witnessed, with my neighbors, a hail storm of gradually increasing intensity that did in short time become so severe and frightening that I rushed myself inside and shut the door. And then the wind kicked up another notch and the beating against this non-insulated hollow structure became what will later be called--memorable.
Not softball sized hail, and not golf ball sized hail, but definitely not pea sized either. It would be fairly accurate to say, ice cube sized hail.
Shelton was excited, thought it was snowing, "Is it snowing, Mr. Jim?" I told him no, and don't go outside. He asked would it hurt and I said, "Yes." He immediately got on the phone and called Glynn's mom, his Aunt Nettie, who along with BaBa, and others, lost the battle to keep the family home across the street, and now live in an upstairs apartment on Claiborne, near Frenchmen. "Nettie," Shelton exclaimed, "It snowing."
All of the windows on the vulnerable side of the house are double hung six over sixes. The hail that found glass made loud cracking noises to go along with the loud drumming against the wood siding, and hard asbestos roofing. I was gathering materials: a razor knife, cardboard, duct tape. In ten minutes the worst of it had passed. Mandy was vaccuming glass, Shelton was asking me the difference between snow and hail. I did not have a ready answer, so I asked him to get the ladder for me.
Five window panes busted out, probably that many more cracked. Hail was still hitting the house and I had three cardboard replacement panes cut and ready to place. In the time it took me to tape up the last two windows in the back, Mandy had gotten under the covers of her bed, Shelton on his couch.
It was about 11:30 by then, passed my bedtime, but I was taking Monday off so I stayed up and started reading this book sent to me by Jeff Franzen, called--Black Panthers for Beginners. Pretending to be nothing else, it is a pretty good simplistic, fairly liberal representation of the Panther History, with cartoon drawings.
In between pages I would think about this house I would like to buy, the second one I have been serious about since I started looking in earnest.
This morning I got a couple of loads of laundry going, found my tax returns in the attic, organized account numbers, phone numbers, addresses, and other stuff that applies to me, called the realtor and was told the house was already under contract.
It is 11:30 again, twelve hours later, and Shelton, who also seems to have Monday off, and has had his breakfast, is out the door wearing his insulated Dallas Cowboys warmup jacket.
I guess I'll go look at a house over in the lower ninth ward, on Chartres, and maybe that one over in Hollygrove, uptown near the river.
- jimlouis 11-22-2000 1:26 am