election

Today at lunch, I attended a lecture at the Church of the Immaculate Conception, a beautiful cathedral in downtown New Orleans. I discovered "First Tuesdays" a couple of years ago; on the first Tuesday of the month, the church hosts "Spirituality in the City," which is a lecture given by different religious leaders and local lay celebrities (Leah Chase was my favorite). The lecture is accompanied by a simple, free meal. Usually, I attend noon Mass beforehand, even though I am not Catholic, because the inside of the church feels holy in ways I rarely sense.

Today's lecture was given by David Crosby, a Baptist pastor whose monologue centered on the Good Samaritan, easily my favorite story in the Bible. (When it was the Gospel reading in church in the summer of 2008, I cut it out of the bulletin and taped it on my bathroom mirror so that I would be reminded, daily, to show others mercy.)

Jesus finishes his parable by telling his disciples to "go and do likewise." It's my favorite message, partly because it's such an easy one to understand.... and partly because it's so applicable to all of humanity, regardless of religion: love the people around you, even if they are strangers or hurting or want to hurt you.

Pastor Crosby said, "Strangers are always at risk in a human community."

It's natural to not trust new people. It's natural to flock with birds of your same feather. I think it's become natural for us to shame, to "other," to judge... although "they" were certainly around in Christ's time.

Another message today was "the love of neighbor is the foundation to all of Christ's others teachings." I couldn't agree more.

It is difficult to love strangers, but it's more difficult for me not to. I have been known to buy the groceries of the person in front of or behind me in line. I sometimes buy a bottle of water or a jar of peanut butter for someone who asks for my spare change. I smile at people disabled in body and/or mind, knowing that, sometimes, all people need to feel validated is to feel noticed.

The pastor admitted that it is very difficult to love our neighbors: "loving a stranger takes our blinders off." It's true that we all create cultural structures that give us security and comfort, mostly so we know who "we" is and who "they" is.

Rarely are we Americans as divided as a people as we are on Election Day. It's one of the perils of a two-party system. No other day do we shame or "other" or blame or disrespect our neighbors so much. It is rarely a day of love or unity... because it is impossible for one person to represent all of the views of the people who elected him/her. And with so many issues that people see as having only two sides ("we" are for something, and "they" are against it), it makes loving one's neighbor awfully hard.

Especially because, in America, voting and political ideology comes down to a lot of people's interpretation of certain pieces of the Bible... hardly of any of which I would argue is "love your neighbor." That's a pretty difficult thing to interpret incorrectly.

So let's try. Let's show each other, and ourselves, mercy as the results roll in and we, "they," and the pundits forecast what the next two, four, six years mean for us and for our neighbors, despite whether they vote red, blue, purple, or green.

Let's elect to love.

goals

World Cup: I can't quit you.

Maybe it's because we've been watching games at the Irish House, where all pints are $3 during games.

Maybe it's because male soccer players are, wholistically, beautiful.

Maybe it's because I have girlfriends who love watching the games, so it's an opportunity to catch up with them.

Yesterday, during the Iran game, I was surprised by how many female Iran fans were dressed in tiny tshirts and shorts.

I said so, today.
My beau: Well, Iran was incredibly progressive before the ayatollah.
Me: Really? Are there any progressive Muslim countries now?
Him: ... Turkey?
Me: But my Turkish roommate couldn't be gay there.

Which started a whole conversation about which countries are progressive enough for people to be what I believe is a genetic predisposition. But, hell, for the sake of argument, let's just say "countries progressive enough that people are allowed to have choices about who they love."

And it came back to America, where the three of us recognized that one couldn't be gay in most of America.

We sipped our $3 pints.

Then a coed baby shower walked in. A very pregnant, beautiful black woman is wearing "Baby Mama" sash; a very beautiful Latina is wearing "Baby Daddy" sash.

New Orleans: I can't quit you.

August and Everything After.

I just had no intention of living this way
I need a phone call
I need a plane ride
I need a sunburn
I need a raincoat
And I get no answers
And I don't get no change
It's raining in Baltimore, baby
But everything else is the same.

debut

I became the Executive Director of CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocates) in Jefferson Parish in February. On March 29, we held our annual Light of Hope gala, our largest annual fundraiser.

I had several friends attend the event, and their support meant the world to me. I was very grateful to have so much love in the crowd for my first public event. My friend Katy took this picture of me giving my speech.

Here's what I said:

Thank you all so much for being here this evening.

I'd like to first thank the gala committee for their remarkable work to make this event fun, delicious, and profitable.
I'd like to thank the Board of Directors for their support and also for making the wise decision to hire me.
I'd like to recognize my staff, who work tirelessly to make the world a better place. Tonight, they are all wearing blue ribbons, which signify child abuse prevention awareness. Please seek them out, thank them for their efforts, and find out how you can be a part of our cause.

Right now in Jefferson Parish, there are 40 children waiting for an advocate. 40 children in foster care who the court has appointed someone special to, but no one special has arrived yet. Please take a moment to consider someone special to you who would be interested in becoming a child's voice in court.

I've now been in this position for eight weeks, which is enough time to know I inherited a truly talented staff and one of the most successful Court Appointed Special Advocates programs in the country.

It's also enough time to realize you can't learn everything about the juvenile justice system from watching Law and Order. So I've been to Jefferson Parish Juvenile Court every week to observe, to witness superb advocacy, and to learn our children's stories.

The money raised tonight goes directly towards services provided to children who are in Jefferson Parish's foster care system.

All of these children have one thing in common: someone who was supposed to care for them did not do so.

CASA strives to make sure these children have another thing in common: a voice in court.

CASA advocates spend 8-15 hours each month talking to everyone in a foster child's life, from coaches and teachers to doctors and social workers. They testify under oath about what is the best interest of the child, which could mean more tutoring, more extracurricular activities, or more visits with Dad.

In 2013, 75% of our advocates' recommendations became orders of the court.

Historically in Jefferson Parish, about 85% of CASA children whose case closed received a permanent placement. This means that 85% of our children were adopted by or reunified with people committed to care for them. For life.

On my second day as CASA's Executive Director, I put on a suit jacket and some new lipstick and went to court. I had previously only been in courthouses as part of field trips or jury duty... but a thousand friends have made the ill-advised decision to attend law school, so surely I could manage.

The first case I heard is one of a girl I'll call Emily. She had been abused by her stepfather unbeknownst to her mother. She was removed from her home and sent to a series of different schools. She participated in therapy. All of this just made her miss her mom more. Her mother divorced, found a new home, and tried to spend as much time with her child as possible.

At this hearing, the judge decided to reunify mother and child. Emily, who had been relatively reserved, as teenagers are wont to be, jumped out of her chair and exclaimed: "I get to go home?! You mean, I get to be a normal kid again?!!!!"

And, in that moment, I began to get it.

My job is to help extraordinary children feel normal.

Thank you all for making that possible.

*

For those of you who missed the gala but who would still like to contribute to our cause, please visit our donation website.

topography

Louisiana
constantly surprises me.
Sugarcane. Levees.

brick

In 1983, my parents moved to Wilmington, NC. The family next door had a girl a year younger than me and then got pregnant with a boy who would be two years younger than my brother. The four of us were practically inseparable.

Then in 1986, a family moved across the street with a girl my age and a boy my brother's age. So I ended up with two "sisters." Our parents coordinated Santa: one year we all got dollhouses (which involved at least one bottle of bourbon and a Masters in engineering to construct, according to our fathers); the next year, all of us got bikes, which we would learn to ride in our circular driveway.

I truly know how lucky I am that my parents still live in the same house that I grew up in and that they are still married to each other and that they still like each other and that they are both still healthy. I know that one day they will downsize and move away, and the number that has been in my cell phone as "home" since the day I got a cell phone 15 years ago will go to someone who has not had AT&T long distance for more than three decades.

My parents never once switched during MCI vs. Sprint (the pin drop years). I wonder if, in their future locale, my parents will even be able to sign up for a phone plan that doesn't have call waiting. (Yes. You still get a busy signal if they are busy. As God intended.)

I guess what I'm saying is that I grew up in a place where not much changed. My childhood centered on reading/writing, playing sports, and exploring the world of our yards with my brother and our friends.

Of all these adopted siblings, I was the oldest (by six weeks), which I'm sure I took to mean that I was the one in charge, and I'm sure no one else was really allowed to question that. I also know that I developed a maternal mentality. None of these qualities have particularly waned through the years. What was "bossy" as a girl became "bitchy" as a teenager and became "leadership" as an adult.

That's how I tell it, anyway.

But my maternal instinct remains. I still feel responsible for other people. I want to "fix" them, like I used to "fix" skinned knees or vases broken from rambunctious behavior or a mistake. After years of therapy, I try really, really hard to not credit/blame others for my feelings or be credited/blamed for theirs.

But some people *do* make me happy. One "sister" came over for dinner tonight. We ended up going to different high schools and drifted apart, but she found me on Facebook a few years ago. So tonight she left her husband in charge of her two boys and showed up ready to eat in a home where she had once enjoyed many years of Nintendo. Daddy poured champagne and chopped up meats that had spent most of the day smoking. Three generations ate together. After dinner, we snuck away and spent hours talking about how parenthood has affected us, how our careers have come to be, how our relationships with our parents have evolved, why God matters, how difficult it is to come home again.

Her parents moved from the neighborhood when we were in college, and then they divorced, so returning to our neighborhood was bittersweet at best for her. As she said goodbye, we stood in my parents' (no longer circular) driveway and stared at her old house, pointing out rooms that had been "ours" and wondering where the new owner(s) sleep or watch TV or eat or cry.

It's like that Miranda Lambert song, The House that Built Me. (Go ahead: judge me for liking terrible country music.) And while I can't fix brokenness, I can start healing.

The house that built me
built me full of love and strength
gave me the ability to observe
gave me insight
gave me a sense of values, inquiry, stability
taught me how to treat others.

alliance

(submitted to United Airlines' Customer Care online portal)

subject line (from the drop down menu): Alliance Flight Experience

To whom it may concern:

I understand that United Airlines is not responsible for the weather, for New York City's heavy air/ground traffic, and/or for Newark's single runway for departures/arrivals.

However. The experience I had flying with you yesterday went from dysfunctional to manic. Rapidly.

I was originally scheduled on flight 4212 on 12/8/2013. Blessedly, this flight was canceled well in advance of my trek from Manhattan, and I was automatically rebooked.

I arrived at EWR on 12/9/2013 to take flight 4292, scheduled to depart at 12:30pm. The first of 10 emails to arrive from United over the course of the day informed me of a delay. (I did not receive an email every time the flight was delayed or the gate changed; that would have increased my inbox by at least 15 more emails.)

I arrived at the designated gate (A25). 20 minutes before we were meant to depart, we had a gate change (A22). Zones 1 and 2 boarded, then unboarded. We were told of a necessary aircraft change. Some of the reasons given: it was too small; for our size/load, it would require between 1 and 3 fuel stops en route; it could not handle the wind.

We were told to board at A20. We boarded. Then the pilot announced that there was an engine leak. We waited to see if it could be repaired. Alas, no. WE ALL UNBOARDED THIS SECOND PLANE and were sent to A23 to await an arriving plane we could borrow.

We boarded this final plane (our 3rd) at this final gate (our 4th), five hours after we were scheduled to do so.

This experience was greatly improved by our crew. John B., our flight attendant, maintained a great sense of humor ("Welcome to flight 4292, nonstop, same-day service!") and offered unlimited alcoholic beverages and snacks for the duration of our flight.

The captains, as frustrated as we, kept us informed and made decisions that made us feel safe. Their honesty earned our trust.

Mechanical failures. Customer service success.

Emily
(my initials are EWR. curses.)