-> SMOKE & MIRRORS
KATRINA & THE LOST CITY OF NEW ORLEANS by Rod Amis
New Orleans is the Lost City of America.A portion of the proceeds of this book will go to the New Orleans Hospitality Workers Fund. The cooks, servers and restaurant workers of New Orleans have provided fabulous times and memories for millions. Now we must remember them in their time of need.
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SMOKE & MIRRORS - COP LAND: ROD AMIS talks about justice in America and why he's going back to California after nearly a decade away.
SMOKE
"Where there's smoke, there's fire ..." Popular Adage.
10 June 2006: Where I live now, out here in Lizard Lick, I very seldom see a police car of any sort. I dare say that in the last year, I only seen the county sheriff's vehicles cruise down this country lane I inhabit a dozen times. Being a Black man, that is a very comforting experience. Like every Black man, I have reason to fear the police, knowing as we all do, that the color of our skin alone makes us suspect to most people who choose that job.
Imagine, I live somewhere in America where I have never locked the doors - so far is this place from anything or anyone - and never considered the need to lock them. If there is crime in Lizard Lick, it doesn't make it out this far. Our crime is the sort that springs from drunken teenagers attacking mailbox posts or someone crashing into a tree when failing to navigate a curve in the road. So when I do happen to see a member of the local (county or state) constabulary, that person is most likely minding a speed trap along the side of the road.
I think of this because of reading this week, the latest installment of reporting - from Eric Ruder, over at CounterPunch.com, about the decades-long practice of Chicago policemen torturing Black men in their precincts. (See "The Chicago Files: Police Torture in America" for the full story.) It's not pretty reading but it confirms what I and every other Black man in America know the police are capable of doing, perpetrating upon you, simply because they don't like the color of your skin. We Blacks are incarcerated more than any other people in this police state of ours, and often - as I know from personal experience - we are jailed and held without trial for weeks or months on end, simply by dint of being Black and poor.
Men, too often in their revenge, set the example of doing away with those general laws to which all alike can look for salvation in adversity. - Thucydides
Consider this, according to a BBC report on prisons, the United States leads the world in gulag population. Here in America, we incarcerate over 700 people per 100,000. By contrast, supposedly repressive China only jails 118 per 100,000; the "horrific" country of Nigeria jails 30 per 100,000. Verstehen? We Americans run our gulag at the cost of $60 Billion dollars a year. How many schools could that whopping sum build?
Now get ready for this: 20.2% of the Americans who are behind bars, who we know are mostly Black and Latino - 20.2% have not even had a trial to prove their guilt or innocence!
(I can hear you now, "Oh come, Rod! That certainly can't be true!" Well it is. You can see the chart I'm referencing here and read the full report by the BBC starting here.)
But there's more! The Washington Post tells on Thursday, 8 June, that a bipartisan, private Commission on Safety and Abuse in America's Prisons, formed by the Vera Institute is reporting to Congress this week on the horror story that is America's massive system of jails and prisons. Another unpretty picture that reaches the conclusion that our system and our people have failed in this endeavor at what we like to call "justice."
The "Land of the Free" has more of its people, per capita, in jail than any other country on Earth.
MIRRORS
6 June 2006: The women I most love on this planet, with one exception, are resolute on one point: that I should not return to New Orleans. I talked with one of them today, one of the Europeans, and she insisted that Rod outside of New Orleans is the man she admires. For her, while I was living in New Orleans I was beaten down by the racism and the sadness of the place and was not the man she loved any longer, just a shadow of my true self.
When you hear something like this from disparate sources, women who do not know each other but only what they learn from my comments, and thus have no reason to agree, you have to take it into account. When you are a man who loves women as much as I do and depend upon their insights, you have to realize that you are receiving a reality check.
10 June 2006: It is reported this week that a recent survey of the population of the new New Orleans reveals it to older, richer and (surprise!) whiter. That, sadly, doesn't recommend the city to a man who prefers something of an ethnic mix.
"But wait!" you might say, "There's still ethnic. There are over 10,000 new Latino residents now."
And I think: How about a real 'Chocolate City'? Like Oakland, California. I could commune with my pal RAHEEM and finally meet his new wife and baby f2f. I can laugh as he says I'm simply older and uglier than when I left.
Characteristically, the ONLY person among my friends, inside or outside of New Orleans, who thinks it's a good idea for me to go back there is my pal, Matt. Matt has always been a booster of that city because it has all the features he wants in his life. He loves staying out in the bars in and around the French Quarter ("the reservation," "the sliver by the river") until the sun comes up over the horizon. Just this week, he did so more than once.
But, from my perspective, I have to bear in mind that New Orleans is the only place I've ever lived where I've been imprisoned and hospitalized. In fact, most people marvel that I could have gone - outside of New Orleans - fifty-four years without entering a hospital other than on missions to visit sick friends. And, there's this: New Orleans tried to kill me twice. Why should I give that Hell-hole a third shot?
AND there is also this: I've been writing a very long time. The words that most often came in comment to my e-mail box during my ten-plus years on this medium, for my production here and at other Web sites, were "intense," "powerful," and "overwhelming" - EXCEPT FOR THE YEARS I LIVED IN NEW ORLEANS.
In New Orleans, the words most applied were "tragic," "sad," and "dark."
If you were Rod the Writer, which description of your work would you prefer?
After the dot-com bust and my (very evident) emotional collapse from that disaster, New Orleans seemed a possible refuge but only contributed to sapping my strength. Since I have left there, I've managed to achieve more in a year than I did in four while living there.
The conclusion should be self-evident.
Now that I have finally verbalized my decision, I can move on...
The Real Goal, after all, is to conclude this hejira of mine by finding a civilized, as described in my last journal entry place to live and breathe free and create.
That place is certainly NOT Governor Ah-nold's California but the place is a decent enough waystation until I figure out where it is I mean to live. I'm exploring the notion of Toronto, still thinking about my dear friends in Taxco, haven't seen the Pacific islands yet (global warming is a challenge there, though) and will always keep in mind the poster that used to be on my office wall of Rio de Janeiro...
Creation is Job One
Creation is all-important to me, as people who know me personally are aware. I draw inspiration from the work(s) of other creative people, from the kinds of conversation they are likely to engage, from their very worldview.
People who have actually met me are aware that I am not much like the "voice" that comes through on this page or even like the one employed for the writing I perform for my Day Jobs.
I am singularly unimpressive in comparison to my words, my act of creation, which I have devoted my life to crafting.
I've shared stories with you before about people meeting Rod the man for the first time, after having come to know Rod the Writer. Whether they expected some wizened and fiery person or an outgoing and vibrant bon vivant, they were ultimately disappointed on both counts. Charisma is not me; reticent and shy, even afraid of most people, is more how I come across with strangers. I do find it difficult to trust people and so, for the most part, demur around people who I have not known for less than a decade. This makes me come across as both secretive and withdrawn.
Once I do learn to trust someone, I am a loyal friend. I work to stay in contact with them and know the events of their lives. Before the advent of the Internet, I was an inveterate letter writer; since e-mail and VOIP (Voice over IP) have arrived, I am in near-constant contact with friends all over the world. I even "pop in" on my writing friends in Africa when I have credits in my SkypeOut account, just to hear their voices and let them know I am thinking of them.
Once I have established a friendship, I absolutely treasure it. That is why, when I feel someone has "turned" on me, I react harshly. That person, from that moment on, is dead to me, as we say in the neighborhoods of New York and New England. It is near impossible for me to re-approach someone once I feel they have pushed me too far. So, yes, forgiveness is not one of my strong suits.
16 June 2006: I have embarked upon a new venture. ("Anot her one?" I hear you exclaim.) I am very excited about it and - should it get the necessary support - could fulfill many the impulses I have exhibited in my two projects at the Huffington Post. It affords me the chance to impact the practice and practitioners of my craft, something I take quite seriously.
I can say little more than that today. After I've settled in California, I should be able to say more.
17 June 2006: IF I could fly out of here, this backwoods exile, in three days without it costing me my left arm - or at least the security deposit on the first month's rent on a new apartment in the Bay Area and snagging some furniture - Lord knows I would. I feel each hour I remain floundering here now. I count the literal hours until I shall be FREE again.
I am always being tested for patience by Providence and the gods, me, the man who is known for having little patience at all...
18 June 2006: FINALLY! The check I've been waiting for, the Liberation Check, arrived from one of my Day Job publishers. I am so HAPPY!
Now, though, I have to determine whether it's worth the extra hundred dollars or so to get out to California by the end of the coming week OR if I should be more prudent - all things considered - and save that dosh for the security deposit required for a new roof over my head.
Keep me in your prayers as I keep you in my own.
Thanks for coming back this week.
THINGS ROD HOPES FOR THIS WEEK
1 - The next plane ride. It's NOT a good year unless you get on a plane.
2 - Living up to the expectations (or - better yet - exceeding them!) for the team in this latest venture in which I've become involved.
3 - A SOFT landing back in Cali.
"Work like you don't need the money,
"Love like you've never been hurt,
"Dance like no one is watching ... "
Love,
Rod
ROD AMIS has published this magazine since 1990. It first appeared as a hardcopy 'Zine. In March, 1996, he launched it here on the Web. Rod was a Contributing Editor at Suite101.com, where he wrote the " 'Net Publishing" feature. His work has been featured in the San Francisco Bay Guardian Online, NRV8, and at the (U.S.) Public Broadcasting System (PBS's) WebLab's Reality Check site. Rod was a contributing writer on technology for Faulkner Information Services. He wrote on Web issues for MethodFive.com's Hyper newsletter.Rod was a columnist for the Andover News Network, where he wrote over two hundred articles on web design and development issues. He was principal writer and Editor for IT Manager's Journal, where he reviewed technology issues weekly, producing 383 editorials. He became the Managing Editor for Electronic Mail/Newsletter Publications at Andover.net at the end of February, 2000, and left in September of the same year. He was a contributing writer for ACCESS Internet magazine, which appeared both on- and offline for 10 million readers in 100 newspapers like the San Francisco Chronicle, New York Post, Boston Herald, Austin American-Statesman, Denver Post and Orlando Sentinel, among others. Rod was the US reporter for Silicon.com, a division of Network Multimedia Television in London, UK, r eaching 3.5 million European readers, until May, 2001.
In 2002, he worked as Assistant to the General Manager of a Big Easy company that does restaurants and nightclubs. He did stints as the Resident Philosopher at three separate gin mills in that city in the French Quarter and the Marigny, earning his stripes during two successive Mardi Gras seasons. Oh yeah, Rod's had Day Jobs working construction. Mostly renovations of old New Orleans structures, houses and a bar. Sometimes he designs Web sites for other people so that he can get his creative juices flowing the way he can't at a staid publication like this one. And he's been the instructor in Editing for Internet Publications at the Novi Sad School of Journalism in Yugoslavia. When he's not busy here, he writes technology columns for IT Manager's Journal and NewsForge, business columns for Enterprise Leadership and Slashdot. Rust never sleeps.
Our Resident Philosopher is taking to the road once again. Wish him luck..
In his spare time, he chases women in the manner that a fly pursues a spider.
He continues to be committed to integrity,
chastityand a dose of humility.
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