Another Visit to the Bulldog

Again I have fallen a week behind on post. Here is a short update on from the week I missed. I had the wonderful opportunity to attend a consortium regarding the Mississippi Delta. I had a second opportunity to visit the Social Science Research Center at Mississippi State. There, multiple partners had gathered in an effort to brainstorm ways to genuinely assist the Delta. Sustainable, community-led development was the goal of the consortium. Over two days many academics, foundation members, research students, and program directors hashed out the challenges of the Delta, discussed current programs, and came up with a plan of action that would enable a broad yet deep assistance to the region.

NOLA

I spent this past weekend attending a conference in New Orleans, Louisiana. The purpose of the conference was to assist in the building of a nationwide coalition of college students, graduate and undergraduate, committed to the just and equitable rebuilding of the coastal communities hit by Hurricane Katrina. As a part of the conference, attendees visited a green house built in the lower ninth ward. Elements of social, political, economic, and environmental development were tied together to give participants a greater idea of what equitable development should look like in Katrina-marred areas versus what it actually looks like. What was communicated at the conference as immediately needed was the dissemination of accurate information regarding the social, political, economic, and environmental development of these areas. Many of the hardest hit areas are not receiving adequate funding. Much of this is due to political power play. Federal dollars have been allocated without oversight. Many of the hardest hit residents feel there is an intentional reshaping of New Orleans going on in the rebuilding that is not remniscent of the city pre-Katrina.

It was difficult to put all of this information into context with the realities of the French Quarter and Warehouse District where I was lodging. In contrast to the city's other wards, the famous/infamous Quarter and Warehouse District were bubbling tourists havens. I'd been to NO several times before but had never seen the city like this. The French Quarter and Warehouse District boasted vibrant mom-and-pop shops, numerous chef-inspired restaurants, Americanized European-styled architecture, and of course, music. There is a spirit unique to the city. After visiting I can better understand how amidst all of the remaining debris, the sulfuric political rhetoric, the injustices, and the seemingly intended pollution of every kind, lifelong residents continue to trickle back and rebuild.

Some of the pics include the quaint side streets of New Orleans' French Quarter and the Green House built in the ninth ward. As an aside, I ate enough during this weekend for all of those reading this blog but were not in the NOLA. Thanks Emeril, Lucy's, the Praline Shop, and numerous other vendors for your gastric support ;)

New Orleans proved to be if not the "Most Unique City" that it claims to be, then certainly one of the most unique places I've ever visited. Long live NOLA!

A Call to Conscience

The Delta has slowed to a home-like pace. I've learned the short-cuts and back-ways to my favorite places. I've gained that familiarity with the area that makes one say, "I don't even remember how I got here" after shifting the car into 'park'. Nevertheless, the pace of change in the world has not slowed. The presidential baton has been passed and the Dow has dived. Our national conviction in our powerful economic system has shaken our confidence, and for some, given us the down right shake-down. In the wake of these changes, economic and social disparities abound. While commentators opine on which avenue, the re-enforcement of our staid power brokers or the assistance of our every-day, will best lead us to stability, words to wisdom can be gleaned from a 1967 address Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. made to the SCLC. The pace of life here in the Delta has allowed me the time to read some of Dr. King's key speeches. So, while like is slow down here, hopefully this reflection will give all of you out there some insight into our current, fast-paced, ever-changing times. Enjoy.

"There is nothing wrong with power if power is used correctly. You see, what happened is that some of our philosophers got off base. And one of the great problems of history is that the concepts of love and power have usually been contrasted as opposites, polar opposites, so that love is identified with a resignation of power, and power with a denial of love. It was this misinterpretation that caused the philosopher Nietzche, who was a philosopher of the will to power, to reject the Christian concept of love. It was this same misinterpretation which induced Christian theologians to reject Nietzsche's philosophy of the will to power in the name of the Christian idea of love.
Now we got to get this thing right. What is needed is a realization that power without love is reckless and abusive, and that love without power is sentimental and anemic. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is love correcting everything that stands against love. And this is what we must see as we move on."

-- MLK "Where Do We Go From Here?"

Bienvenido a Miami

The last couple of weeks have been hectic. I've fallen behind on my post. But not to worry, the old, reliant Miranda is back. Usually I update this blog on the weekends -- Saturday's or Sunday's. The last couple of weekends I have been out of town. I did, however, want to make sure that on my final October blog I posted proof of my absences as both corroboration and celebration. On October 18th I attended the wedding of Ternesha and James B. The city, the party, and of course, the wedding were beautiful. Included in this blog are pictures of myself and my escort, Demetrius as well as a pic of the newly declared MARRIED couple! enjoy.

Ground Zero

I don't want to leave anyone confused -- I absolutely love my work here in the Delta -- but almost as good is the work is the play. On a trip to Clarksdale I stopped by Ground Zero, a blues bar owned by Morgan Freeman.

I had a 'Voodoo Burger". I was a little skeptical of a burger called "voodoo". Nevertheless, I loved it. So, for those of you who don't have the chance to play at Ground Zero here's your chance. Try a burger, well done, and add Monterrey Jack Cheese and bacon to the top. Cover the bottom with pesto -- yes pesto. It's excellent. Pics are included -- enjoy.

One Thousand Words

A picture is worth a thousand words -- but sometimes a thousand is not enough. On October 1, I had the opportunity to travel to Leland, Mississippi to conduct an interview. The interviewee was a Mr. Robert Hitt Neil, author, radio personality, and general southern character. Mr. Neil invited JR and myself out to his home for the interview followed by a "Jungle Lunch". JR was given driving directions, but once again, GPS did not save the day. We stopped at a Mennonite woman's house for directions. She graciously met us in our vehicle, so as her grizzly bear-sized dog would not attack us, then pointed us approximately one block up the street -- a point we had passed previously. Mr. Neil asked us to meet him at the swimming hole which was the first thing JR and I spotted on our back peddling trek. We pulled off the main road into a scene unrepeatable for any cinematic set designer. Mr. Neil resides on the farm his family has owned and managed for generations. The swimming hole, replete with a dock and a knotted rope attached to a tree from which divers could dangle through the air over the water, sat adjacent to grand house where Mr. Neil, with his wife, now live. The doorways in the home seemed to stretch well beyond conventional 10 and 12 foot ceilings. Directly behind the house was Mrs. Neil's workshop -- the former commissary for the sharecroppers who once helped work the land. Inside, an old money vault along with boxes and bottles of the probably-common household items of sharecroppers, silently told stories of a past. Of course, none of these stories compared to the ones Mr. Neil actually told -- stories of escaped convicts, the building of levees, baseball, Lyndon Johnson, the toll of mechanization on southern farmers, the reasons he shoots computers -- as opposed to clay disks-- on his range, and egg-sucking dogs & angel food cake. After the stories, the tour, and the interview, Mr. Neil treated us to lunch at a table next to the swimming hole. Our "Jungle Lunch" consisted of sardines, Vienne sausages, smoked clams in the can, crackers, Pringles, and cheese. Though I've never eaten a sardine, to avoid Mr. Neil's chants of "you're such a girl!", I took the challenge. I can't say the same for JR -- but he's a big boy -- I'm sure he can endure Mr. Neil's accusation of "sissy". At the end of the afternoon, Mr. Neil insisted that we take a look at his miracle tree. According to Mr. Neil, lightening struck the tree decades ago leaving the top half of the tree in the yard and the bottom of the tree hollow and dead. As a kid, he and his friend would climb the tree looking to tap the honey of nesting bees. A seed soon embedded itself in the honey and proceeded to grow. The branches of the new tree entwined with the old tree. The roots of the new tree attached itself to the root system of the old tree extracting water from the nearby swimming hole. Without knowledge of their pasts, one would find the two trees indistinguishable. Mr. Neil explained that this was analogous to man's relationship with God. I went to the car, completely enthralled with the surreal sights and experiences of my day, to grab my camera from my bag but it was missing. JR and I said our goodbyes and headed back to Cleveland. Upon our return I headed home for a real lunch. I searched my apartment for my camera, but could not find it. I looked again in my bag and found it. I had moved it to a different pouch in order to protect the lens. I'd had it the entire time. Initially my disorganization frustrated me, but as I thought more about it I realized that I hadn't missed anything. Though a picture may be worth a thousand words, sometimes a thousand is not enough. A picture can only capture what is within its frame. My experiences in Leland were too big to be framed, too big to be captured. The best vault for their storage is the film of my own imagination.

Are We There Yet?

This marks the second week JR & I have spent conducting interviews throughout the Delta. Monday we traveled to Greenwood, Mississippi. I had visited Greenwood earlier during a staff team-building exercise and fell in love with the town. Viking was founded, and now operates, out of Greenwood. The results of its founder creating and keeping his company in this Delta town are incredible. As I may have mentioned in an earlier blog, Greenwood is home to the Alluvian Hotel. The Alluvian is a four diamond hotel located in the heart of Greenwood's downtown. The storefronts around the area have been refurbished and filled. Chef inspired restaurants dot the streets. There are wonderful old homes that line the main boulevard. Greenwood has an 'old town' feel with modern amenities. JR & I were in Greenwood to interview a woman, Lise, that serves as Greenwood's Community Project Manager. The interview went well. Afterwards, JR & I decided to roam around a bit. JR is from a small town outside of Greenwood. Currently, his parents live in Greenwood. This left me feeling like I had a great opportunity to get to know Greenwood with a knowledgeable tour guide -- that and JR has GPS. First we decided to stop in Money, Mississippi -- the home of Emmitt Till's uncle and the starting point of that notorious tragedy. I snapped a picture of the now dilapidated store where the tragedy began. On our way back to Cleveland, we decided to stop for a soda. Out of the middle of a cotton field appeared a row of shacks and what appeared to be a store. JR made a u-turn and turned onto the dirt and gravel road, past the shacks, and to the store. Upon parking we were met by an older man who took a seat on a church pew located on the store's porch. We came to learn that we had not stumbled upon on a store, rather, we had stumbled upon Tallahatchie Flats -- a collection of shacks refurbished to resemble turn-of-the-century sharecropper's quarters'. Mister Bubba, as the man introduced himself, was the manager. People from around the world, according to Mister Bubba, had visited and rented the shacks. After a long conversation JR & I moved on to find another 'store' for our much awaited soda. According to JR, the Mississippi native, there was a short-cut located just off the highway that would cut our time back to Cleveland. He plugged in his GPS and we broke from the highway. Now I don't have GPS, never used it, but I'm pretty sure when the screen shows the car moving off the red lines and into the abyss of charter-less brown we're lost. We kept on down the road, around the corner, deeper into the cotton, past some houses, past some trailers, past some shacks, beyond a barn, beyond a tractor, beyond the pavement. Finally, we ended up in the middle of a field where the now dirt road just ended. After backtracking we found ourselves back on the highway. We finally found the country store we were looking for -- Sander's Grocery. We stopped and got sodas and candy bars. However, these were not our only options. This particular country store, in addition to soda, also sold hot breakfast platters, deli-sliced meat, worms for fishing, relaxer kits, oil sheen, and more. Finally, we returned to Cleveland full of information and experiences.