The Closure
By many reports he was a good kid but last night somebody shot him dead anyway, in front of his old school, Life of Christ Christian Academy, on Dorgenois, in the 7th Ward. He was back in town helping with the rebuilding process at the school.
Also on Thursday, 3 tornadoes ripped through Jefferson and Orleans Parishes. The one in New Orleans started at Veterans and West End Blvd and traveled diagonally towards Canal Blvd before heading out into the lake. Homes in the Lakeview area that were decimated five months previous by Katrina were decimated in new ways, by 125 mph unnamed winds.
Three of my former young neighbors on Dumaine, are reportedly in jail, or still in jail for Pre-K crimes. One for his murdering, in Louisiana, and one, who once popped mean wheelies, for something in Houston, where he evacuated after spending the flood week with M and thirty others in M's Dumaine house. S, who one of you drove around in your BMW, was released on bail in Houston, jumped it and headed west and was then picked up in South Central Los Angeles, where he also had warrants for crimes committed during his many trips there over the years trying to evade warrants (attachments) in New Orleans.
We buried my mom on Wednesday, in Dallas, as part of that ceremonious process meant to bring closure to the bereaved. My cousin, the monsignor, spoke, as did a new guy pastor of the Methodist Church, who didn't know mom, but took good notes and delivered kind thoughts, and at the grave side people testified as to their connection to Clifford (there is no conclusive story as to why my mom was named Clifford, and no one wants to embrace the last thoughts relayed from her to me on the mattter--that she was named after a horse on the farm) and it was good, all of it.
If I gained a needed closure though, it was only in part by the many kind thoughts and heartfelt hugs. In equal part my closure on the life of Clifford Louis was gained from the passing of the backhoe operator parked at a comically discreet distance from the grave site.
The street light is on in front of the Dumaine house and somebody tarped the roof while I was gone and cut down the tree from the Esnard Villa property which had blown down and landed softly on M's roof. I was over this morning setting rat traps while unsuccessfully avoiding their dominant scurrying about.
The chauffeur got his temporary electric pole set up across the street from me over here on Rocheblave and waits patiently for his promised trailer, where he hopes to live with his seven-year-old cousin, who is causing problems at the home of his family. Chauffeur is being asked to leave his current temporary residence over by the Bayou St. John.
It's going to get a little chilly during the nights this week, in New Orleans.
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By many reports he was a good kid but last night somebody shot him dead anyway, in front of his old school, Life of Christ Christian Academy, on Dorgenois, in the 7th Ward. He was back in town helping with the rebuilding process at the school.
Also on Thursday, 3 tornadoes ripped through Jefferson and Orleans Parishes. The one in New Orleans started at Veterans and West End Blvd and traveled diagonally towards Canal Blvd before heading out into the lake. Homes in the Lakeview area that were decimated five months previous by Katrina were decimated in new ways, by 125 mph unnamed winds.
Three of my former young neighbors on Dumaine, are reportedly in jail, or still in jail for Pre-K crimes. One for his murdering, in Louisiana, and one, who once popped mean wheelies, for something in Houston, where he evacuated after spending the flood week with M and thirty others in M's Dumaine house. S, who one of you drove around in your BMW, was released on bail in Houston, jumped it and headed west and was then picked up in South Central Los Angeles, where he also had warrants for crimes committed during his many trips there over the years trying to evade warrants (attachments) in New Orleans.
We buried my mom on Wednesday, in Dallas, as part of that ceremonious process meant to bring closure to the bereaved. My cousin, the monsignor, spoke, as did a new guy pastor of the Methodist Church, who didn't know mom, but took good notes and delivered kind thoughts, and at the grave side people testified as to their connection to Clifford (there is no conclusive story as to why my mom was named Clifford, and no one wants to embrace the last thoughts relayed from her to me on the mattter--that she was named after a horse on the farm) and it was good, all of it.
If I gained a needed closure though, it was only in part by the many kind thoughts and heartfelt hugs. In equal part my closure on the life of Clifford Louis was gained from the passing of the backhoe operator parked at a comically discreet distance from the grave site.
The street light is on in front of the Dumaine house and somebody tarped the roof while I was gone and cut down the tree from the Esnard Villa property which had blown down and landed softly on M's roof. I was over this morning setting rat traps while unsuccessfully avoiding their dominant scurrying about.
The chauffeur got his temporary electric pole set up across the street from me over here on Rocheblave and waits patiently for his promised trailer, where he hopes to live with his seven-year-old cousin, who is causing problems at the home of his family. Chauffeur is being asked to leave his current temporary residence over by the Bayou St. John.
It's going to get a little chilly during the nights this week, in New Orleans.
- jimlouis 2-03-2006 7:32 pm
local weekly coverage of NOLA
- mark 2-03-2006 7:54 pm [add a comment]