Chris Rose, for those out of town readers who might not know this, is a local writer. He started out as the 'entertainment reporter' for the Times Picayune, but his trenchant observations about celebrity phoniness soon disqualified him from that mindless assignment. Even though he wasn't from New Orleans he quickly dissolved into a local character. He reveres the bawdy inconsistencies that are the essence of New Orleans.
I was surprised that Rose never wrote about the bloggers of New Orleans. He had to be aware of their existence, especially Ashley Morris, who lashed out at Rose from time to time. Well, it turns out that Rose did know of Ashley Morris, and of Ashley's recent death. Turns out that Rose encountered him in meatspace (as bloggers often refer to the physical world). And it seems that Rose understood what caused Ashley's death: "he was huge and he lived too large and laughed too loud and that kind of behavior can kill a man."
No doubt.
I'm glad to know that Rose met and appreciated Ashley for who he really was. Still, on behalf of Ashley, I do have to take issue with one aspect of Rose's tribute. It would be wrong to lump Ashley into a group that Rose calls 'amateur curmudgeons.' Ashley struck me as a pretty serious curmudgeon, one easily misjudged by those who live comfortably in the superficial world.
Sudden and monumental change serves a purpose, or at least it should. In the aftermath of such change we shouldn't unthinkingly rebuild things back the way they were. We should pause to consider what unique advantages have surfaced. We should consider if certain foundational assumptions need to be abandoned altogether in order to create a more lasting foundation.
Last Saturday I drove my son out to St. Bernard where he and 1,000 other college kids were spending their spring break rebuilding houses at the Habitat Camp Hope project. The drive was bleak. There were a few spots of commerce, improbable little strip malls amidst miles of forsaken houses. My eyes brightened when I saw a small white trailer with a sign that proclaimed the presence of a public library. And yet it was a simple little trailer. What kind of library could be housed in such a structure?
As I drove closer I saw a large sign outside of the library: "FREE WIRELESS INTERNET". For the past few days I've been thinking about the strange implications of this simple little sign.
St. Bernard was completely inundated by floodwaters from Katrina. And the people of St. Bernard are not folks who spend a lot of money on technology. You won't see any Starbucks out there, that's for sure. Home Depot has a store the size of the Pentagon, and beyond that it's just little mom and pop stuff. The most exotic business I saw was a Planet Beach tanning salon. I guess that's why I was intrigued by the library Wi-Fi sign. It seems like if you live in St. Bernard and want to use some free wifi you have to go to the library (well Camp Hope, where my son stayed with the 1,000 college students, has free wifi too).
Today, the Times Picayune has an article about a new $650 million 'Library Master Plan' for the city. The story doesn't say anything about wireless internet. Perhaps that is an oversight by the author. Then again maybe there is a larger oversight. Maybe wireless internet isn't part of the new master plan at all. Of course, the libraries of the future aren't all about wireless internet access.
So what should they be about?
Here's how a progressive Northwest city envisioned this question:
"Seattle's public library...was designed to be a downtown hangout, with something for everyone, as if you crossed Starbucks with a mega bookstore." FN1
In other words, the idea was to use the library as a community gathering place. Wow! What a great idea. Needless to say, an idea like that isn't borne by thinking of libraries in a traditional way. It was borne by asking fundamental questions:
Why do so many people hang out in large bookstores like Borders or Barnes & Noble? Why do people go to Starbucks to hangout? What kind of architecture is conducive to hanging out in public places?
The folks who are rebuilding New Orleans' public libraries are about to spend a lot of money. I hope that they have asked these questions, and that their vision includes some novel thinking. If they haven't then I suggest they start by reading Mutating Libraries by Jenny Levine, a forward-thinking librarian who references a Slate slideshow entitled: Borrowed Time: How do you build a public library in the age of Google? Ms. Levine takes some issue with a statement by Ross Dawson that libraries will extinct by 2019, but she agrees that " libraries are about a lot more than just books or study carrels," which is why she believes that "there’s room for things like gaming in today’s library."
I wish that Jenny Levine had been in charge of our library project because then I wouldn't have to wonder whether we were acting with the proper vision. Somehow I fear we are not.
I've had a lot of interest in my house lately. I had a broker's tour last week and over 40 brokers came by and everyone was very confident that the house would sell quickly. The Open House I had yesterday also attracted a lot of people. The beautiful weather didn't hurt. Given all the activity (lots of requests to see the house too), I'm confident that I'll have it sold in a few weeks. Hopefully, the buyers will be really nice people. I want the house to wind up in the hands of folks that I really like. I know if I like them then the people in the neighborhood will like them too which, of course, is the most important thing.
If you know some cool people who are looking for an Uptown House, here's a brochure you can pass along to them. Also there are lots of pictures up at this link.
ESPN columnist Bill Simmons (a/k/a 'The Sports Guy') wrote a nice article about his visit to New Orleans for the NBA All Star Game. He's dead on about one thing: more people need to come here to see how well the city has recovered. The NBA commissioner was able to commit to come here, but the Commission on Presidential Debates somehow didn't think that we were ready for a big event.
There's no point in debating that poor decision. They were wrong, and the NBA was right. Thanks for your faith and support Commissioner Sterne! And thanks to all the other folks who have supported the city since Katrina.
I expected Obama to have a canned speech. After all, he hadn't planned to come to New Orleans until after the Super Tuesday voting. Yet, the speech he gave was obviously tailored to New Orleans. Whether or not he wins the nomination, or becomes President, we can all agree he's a very accomplished speaker. His speeches seem the product of someone who listens and observes closely. Not a common trait anywhere these days, especially not in politics.
I've said it before: a leader is someone who tells people what they need to know (good or bad), rather than what they want to hear. Nagin proves once again that he tells people what he thinks they want to hear, even if it's not true. He's not a leader. He is the opposite of a leader, whatever that is.
The official end of Mardi Gras is when the police drive down Bourbon Street at midnight with water hoses. This merely disperses the crowd. It does not end the festivities. The slovenly party-goers retreat to less mainstream drinking venues, where they form pockets of drunken resistance. The next day many people leave town. But among the locals there are embers still linger.
And that is why, when St. Patrick's Day rolls around a few weeks later, it doesn't take much to fan those embers into a full-fledged party bonfire. One place where the flames rise up quickly is Molly's On The Market, a great bar owned by a fellow named Jim Monahan. Yesterday I grabbed my camera and rode my faithful scooter over to Molly's to check things out. I ran into Tom O'Connor (go figure!) and we chatted for awhile. And then Monahan's Lieutenant, Bryan, invited Tom to join the horse carriage parade that was forming outside the bar. I waved goodbye to Tom and took a few pictures of the crowd, which was motley to say the least.
I was hoping to get a good one of the goat on a leash, but just couldn't pull it off. Oh, well. Maybe next year. Apparently, the goat's a regular at Molly's, although he lives in the Bywater.
Pascal's Manale is a great restaurant, but in that incongruous way that many New Orleans restaurants are measured. The kind of place you head to at the last minute and when you walk in you're told that you'll have to wait at least 45 minutes for a table. And, without reflection, you do.
The entrance room is huge, and the old bar packed with memorabilia and upbeat people. So Becky and I made our way in and finagled some ringside seats. Two guys next to us were in for a convention, raving about how wonderful New Orleans was and how pleasantly surprised they were. The French Quarter was filled with cops, they said, and it was much cleaner than they'd ever remembered. Apparently, they both used to come here a lot before Katrina.
Welcome back, guys.
A few minutes later a burly fellow eased into the fringes of our
conversation, cautiously awaiting his opportunity to place a drink
order. Two adorable little girls came bounding over and started hugging
his legs. He'd been driving all day from Houston on his way to
DisneyWorld, but had gone to college at Tulane and decided to stop in
New Orleans. Instead of heading to the hotel he drove straight to his
favorite restaurant in the world. "Look girls, Daddy wants to go to a
place called Pascal's Manale first and then we'll go see Micky and Goofy tomorrow, okay"?
The people standing near the entrance door suddenly moved aside,
gracefully like a school of fish. A robust guy with gray slicked back
hair, dressed in black pants and a black turtleneck, moved between the
parting crowd with supreme confidence. He was closely trailed by a
tall blond who looked sort of like a gangster's moll, and probably was.
The bartender slung a towel over his shoulder, and called out.
"Hey Joey, where ya been?"
"Oh hey good ta see ya Charlie. Me and Julie here jess got back
from Arizona. We wuz at dis place northa Phoenix. Some place called
Zedona. It's got dem rocks an shit. And got lottsa dem new age types
runnin around all in dem vortexes."
"No kiddin'. So ya hadda good time?"
"Yeah, was allright. Played some golf, drove around some and bought
some stuff. So listen, gimme a Johnny Walker Black onna rocks, ana
Chardonnay will ya"? He pulled out a fold of bills and dealt Charlie a
twenty.
"Sure ting, boss." And with that the bartender turned his back on the crowd and got busy.
Seems like New Orleans is getting busy too, and though some people
have turned away from the city, a lot of people who love this place are
back looking for action. Some are back because a convention brought
them. Others are back passing through on their way to somewhere else.
Some are coming here to live for the first time.
Everyone knows about Brad and Angelina, but not too many people know
that recent Oscar winner Helen Mirren, and her husband Taylor Hackford,
own property in the city and have loved this place for quite awhile (Architectural Digest April 2007 cover story).
But as much as New Orleans loves to welcome celebrities or
convention-goers, it's really the characters that make this place. In
the Architectural Digest article Helen Mirren described New
Orleans as alluring because it was "funky and untidy." I don't know
how to describe New Orleans, exactly.
But I know two things for sure: it's not DisneyWorld, and it ain't Zedona.
Everyone is up in arms about the high utility bills they've been getting for the past few months. Entergy says the problem is the cost of natural gas. A few decades ago we tried to get nuclear power rolling, but safety turned out to be a huge concern. But just because the Atomic Age was a bust doesn't mean that we shouldn't keep pushing the scientific envelope.
Magicians like to find ways to astonish people, and the best way is to make something REALLY BIG appear, or disappear. If you examine this graphic you'll find out how to make a city appear or disappear. However, in this case we would all prefer if you wouldn't keep this trick a secret. Tell everyone, especially the politicians, that you know about this amazing, and yet very tragic, secret.
I got a nice email from a friend of a friend, who is bringing a group of high school students to town to some charity work. In addition to volunteer work, the leaders of the group want the students to learn about the city. They break the students into groups and have them study various things. For example, one group is a "Law and Order" group and they'll be studying the
criminal justice system. Ideally, they'd like to talk to
judges, public defenders, other lawyers and various activists
involved in trying to improve the system.
Other groups will be studying Urban Planning, Neighborhoods, Government (city and
state), Race and Poverty, Environment, Arts and Culture, Storm
Stories (creating an oral history documentary about Katrina), and the
City Economy. So if anyone has some ideas on who these students can talk to, or if you are that person, then let me know.
In reading this article about New Orleans former Chief Technology Officer Greg Meffert I noticed that his successor had already resigned. I thought that was strange, since he had only been in the position for a short while. While checking out the city's official website I found this page which, not only doesn't tell you the name of the current CTO, but still lists Greg Meffert as being in that position. And Nagin wants to run the Road Home program? Give me a post-traumatic break.
When Nagin first took office one of the things he actually did well was figure out how to use technology to improve government services. Now his department can't even figure out how to update a website (something that high schoolers who manage Myspace and Facebook pages seem to do with great facility). Mardi Gras may be over, but if you want to continue to enjoy a farce-in-progress just head over to City Hall. And bring your beads and noise makers.
The plan was to leave yesterday early. Bridget and her friend Maddie were exhausted and happily sleeping. So was I until the Krewe of Buzzards gathered outside my house at 7 am and woke me up, and then lured me outside where I was immediately captivated by the spirit of Mardi Gras. The weather was just about perfect: mild and overcast, but not too cool. So Becky and I decided to ride our bikes down to St. Charles to check things out.
People were milling about in an array of colorful garb, and it was great to cruise through the scene swiftly. Bikes are definitely the way to experience Mardi Gras. After all, on Fat Tuesday the city is essentially one large urban park, filled with masks and music and food and glitter. A car is not only difficult to move or park, but it also filters out the festivities. A scooter is nice, but it makes noise and can't get through the crowds as easily as a bike. From here on out the bike is going to be my 'official Mardi Gras vehicle.'
There is so much to discover on a bike. For instance, Becky and I discovered that we could ride and drink Bloody Mary's at the same time. Who knew this sort of technology existed?
After we covered ground from Napoleon to Jackson (snapping pictures and chatting with quirky characters) we decided to call it a day. Well, actually, Bridget woke up and called me and wanted to know when we were leaving. I got home and packed up the SUV (same one I used to evacuate after Katrina) and waved goodbye to Buddy. We paused for a group picture and then hit the road.
I took the same 'evacuation route' that I had tried unsuccessfully to take back in 2005 the day before Katrina hit. And, ironically, the highway was packed almost like it was then. This time, though, it was people trying to get to the Zulu parade which was passing below the interstate as we made our way out in an easterly direction. Bridget and Maddie went back to sleep clutching their iPod's. It was way too quiet so I put on the radio. WWOZ, of course.
Mile after mile I listened to the sounds of Mardi Gras and questioned my decision to leave. Every car that passed had beads hanging from the rear view mirror, and most of the drivers were also wearing beads around their neck, just as I was. When we got near to Bay St. Louis, Mississippi the sounds from the radio station began to falter and then soon gave out altogether. A full wave of sadness started to come over me. I was now over an hour from home, left with a few traces of Mardi Gras but without any of the essential music. I felt sort of like when the power went out during Katrina.
About five minutes later an 18 wheeler rolled up next to me and I looked over at the cab. Streaming from the the large side mirror was a bunch of purple and gold beads, flapping wildly and rapping along the side of the truck. I stared at the road ahead listenting pensively to the smacking sounds coming from the truck. And, as the big rig barrelled on, damned if I couldn't make out the rappity rap of Al Johnson's 'Carnival Time.'
Next year, there is no way I'm leaving town for Mardi Gras. Especially if the Saints wind up in the Superbowl and play on the Sunday right before the 2008 Carnival. That would be a party for the ages, wouldn't it?
Yesterday morning was the Thoth parade (pronounced 'Towth'), which is the only one I got to this year. Thoth takes a non-traditional route through Uptown New Orleans, and was really easy for me to catch it. Mostly, because it passes right in front of my house. When I bought the house back in 2004 my real estate agent, Lesley, told me that I'd be required to have a parade party. So I invited a bunch of friends and we all had a great time. Last year it didn't pass by because of Katrina so I had forgotten how much fun Thoth was until yesterday, when once again my friends all came and had a blast.
Lesley also advised me to close the front shutters during the parade. "If you don't the window will get broken," she said. I forgot about that too, until the first float rolled by and my front window almost got nailed by sack of beads. I've only had to close the front shutters three times since I've lived here: twice for the Thoth parade, and once for Katrina. Needless to say, the debris left by Thoth was more colorful and festive. Plus I've never had to leave the city after Thoth. It's true that tomorrow I'll be leaving town for Athens, Georgia and then Charleston, South Carolina. But that's so my daughter Bridget and I can visit colleges, not to avoid flood waters (or escape Mardi Gras).
The weather will be spectacular in New Orleans tomorrow, which is good. It's been a fantastic carnival time and a lot of out-of-towners have been on hand to enjoy the fun. Last night Drew Brees was the Grand Marshall of the Bacchus parade, which gave folks a chance to say thanks. Obviously the Saints players were a major source of inspiration this year, but there are some other people who should be recognized too, like Cornelius Washington. Or, if my friend Clancy Dubos is right about Ed Blakely then maybe next year we'll be honoring him.
Whatever happens next year one thing is certain: I'll be having another Thoth party and inviting all my friends to come watch the glorious floats roll by. So mark your calendar for Sunday February 3, 2008. The first batch of Bloody Mary's will be served at 9:00 am.
Last night at 3:30 a large tornado ripped through New Orleans. There was extensive damage in Westwego, Uptown and Ponchatrain Park. The local news is just now starting to report on the situation, but it sounds like it might have been pretty bad.
I've always admired Bill Cosby. I'm really happy to see him come to New Orleans and offer inspiration to the youths of this city. Oh, and the police have a new crime lab now. And the TV news reported last night that the city just spent 200k on a new high-tech pothole fixing vehicle. Unfortunately, it only does cosmetic repair, which won't help with most of the craters that I see when I cruise around the Uptown area. But, hey, one step at a time, right?
Lee Brown to rescue New Orleans from its crime problem (or work on his book)
Lee Brown, a former Houston mayor who also was police chief of Houston, Atlanta and New York, is on the way to help rescue New Orleans from its vicious crime problem. Unlike that other Mr. Brown who worked for the U.S. Government, this Mr. Brown is experienced. He's written the book on community policing. Well, actually, he was supposed to write it when he was the scholar-in-residence at Rice University but he just couldn't manage to get it done. "It's long overdue," Brown said. "I would not give you a deadline. I've passed all the past deadlines."
Okay, so come on down to New Orleans and help us with our crime problem. I'm sure these are the perfect conditions for you to overcome that pesky writer's block. Fellow blawger and longtime Houston resident, Tom Kirkendall, is speechless and asks "does New Orleans really need this?" Probably not, but our local leaders don't know seem to know what we need.
What do we need?
First, we need to reassess from top-to-bottom how we deal with crime, from prevention to prosecution. Community policing makes sense, and maybe we need some guidance on how to implement this. But I'm suspicious about whether Lee Brown is the right guy (how much is he going to charge us for his services?)
What about the problems we have with prosecuting serious crimes? I recently had lunch with a friend of mine who is a prosecutor, someone I know to be a conscientious lawyer. He echoed something I've heard from many other lawyers who do criminal law: the way that our D.A.'s office prepares cases is seriously deficient. In most other cities, so I'm told, when there's a serious crime an assistant D.A. is sent to the crime scene to help coordinate the gathering of evidence. That same D.A. is then primarily responsible for the case as it moves through the system. Obviously this is the optimal way to prepare cases. So why doesn't New Orleans do this? According to my friend, it is because a long time ago D.A. Harry Connick decided that having D.A.s at crime scenes might impair their immunity.
Is this really the best way and is that story about Harry Connick true? I don't know. And I've certainly never been asked to write any books about crime-fighting, and I'm not a scholar-in-residence anywhere. Still, I get this sense that our leading crime-fighters, scholarly and unscholarly, are not coming up with any effective solutions.
"[New Orleans] spends a third of our general fund on police and detention.
pre-katrina we had the 4th largest jail in america. we were averaging
over 100k arrests per year in a city of 460k people. we are number one
or two in the country, right there with nyc, in numbers of law
enforcement officers per capita. but despite hundreds of millions of
dollars, despite leading the world in incarceration, despite hundreds
of thousands of arrests, despite more law enforcement than anyone —
these policies have still failed to make us safer. our jail has grown
from a capacity of 850 in 1974 to a max capacity of 8500 by 2004,
despite a 25% decrease in the city’s population in that same time
frame. there has been no corresponding increase in public safety.
Sounds like we need radical reform, and have for quite awhile. People feel like the recent March raised some awareness and put heat on City Hall to take real action. But, will that happen? I'm skeptical. We had our chance to elect a new mayor last year and we blew it.
New Orleans' Jazz Festival will rock, swing, juke and jive..
The New Orleans Jazz Fest schedule is up for this year, and it includes some major headliners such as Van Morrisson, Steely Dan, Brad Paisley, Norah Jones, Counting Crows, and Harry Connick, Jr. The Fest takes place over two weekends: April 27 - 29 and May 4 - 6. Check the official website for more information.
You played a great game, and you had a great season. You give us hope, and you have shown us what excellence and commitment can do. We're proud to have you represent us, and we can't wait to cheer for you again. You guys are the best!
Everyone in New Orleans is feverishly preparing. To say that people are 'bursting with joy' would be a lame understatement. Everyone is dressed up in Saints jerseys: at school, at work, at bars, at church, and at funerals. It's not unusual to see entire families (mom, dad, three young kids) all wearing black and gold as they climb into an SUV that has more flags than the United Nations. Except all the flags are the same. The family pulls out of their driveway and cruises along St. Charles Avenue where the traffic moves slowly because few stoplights work. All of the cars have Saints flags, so it looks more like a parade than a traffic jam.
Inside the cars and on the streets folks are smiling like disciples of Reverend Moon. Suddenly, they're oblivious to the rampant crime wave. The debris piles don't exist. What hurricane? The local news no longer reports bad news; they only talk about the Saints. Special guests appear one after another: Omar the Tent Man, a guy from St. Bernard with the lucky ticket stub from the first Saints game ever (the one where John Gilliam ran back the opening kickoff for a touchdown), and some sixth graders who seem confused that Christmas is here again. It's cold outside and I'm wondering what the weather here will be like tomorrow. The local news won't tell me. The weather segment is all about analyzing the latest meteorological data for conditions at Soldier Field on game day.
Dwight Eisenhower didn't spend this much time analyzing the weather before he invaded Normandy.
We're now officially a religious cult. We have placid smiles and greet each other as though we live in an orderly Amish village. We believe something will soon raise us up to The Promised Land and make us radiant. It's all so weird. What will salvation feel like? Will we see our loved ones again? Surely we'll see Buddy Diliberto, the tongue-tied sportscaster who rebuked naive fans who dared to dream of the Saints going to the Superbowl. Will Buddy have the dress that he promised to wear if the Saints ever made it there?
It's cold here, and hazy too. But many of us can make out something shimmering in the distance. We know it's probably a mirage but we're all moving forward together, and it feels good.
Seventeen months ago the city was invaded by waters filled with despair, but tomorrow we might find our city raised above sea-level, gently buoyed by an invisible wave of joy. We've spent 40 years hoping, sputtering, obsessing, imagining, praying, dreaming that it would happen, and yet not one of us has managed to develop a
plan to deal with this completely insane notion: the Saints might actually wind up in the Superbowl.
I've learned not to speculate about the future, but if they win it's possible Mardi Gras will start a couple of weeks early. How long it might last is anyone's guess.
There's a big squabble about Gabrielle restaurant opening up at 438 Henry Clay Avenue. Okay, maybe it's not going to be called Gabrielle, but the owners want to open some kind of restaurant on Henry Clay and Laurel Streeet. I live literally right next to the proposed restaurant site, which before Katrina operated sporadically as a reception hall.
The festival got some rain a couple of days, but not when I was there.
Sudden and monumental change serves a purpose, or at least it should. In the aftermath of such change we shouldn't unthinkingly rebuild things back the way they were. We should pause to consider what unique advantages have surfaced. We should consider if certain foundational assumptions need to be abandoned altogether in order to create a more lasting foundation.
I've had a lot of interest in my house lately. I had a broker's tour last week and over 40 brokers came by and everyone was very confident that the house would sell quickly. The Open House I had yesterday also attracted a lot of people. The beautiful weather didn't hurt. Given all the activity (lots of requests to see the house too), I'm confident that I'll have it sold in a few weeks. Hopefully, the buyers will be really nice people. I want the house to wind up in the hands of folks that I really like. I know if I like them then the people in the neighborhood will like them too which, of course, is the most important thing. 
The official end of Mardi Gras is when the police drive down Bourbon Street at midnight with water hoses. This merely disperses the crowd. It does not end the festivities. The slovenly party-goers retreat to less mainstream drinking venues, where they form pockets of drunken resistance. The next day many people leave town. But among the locals there are embers still linger.
Pascal's Manale is a great restaurant, but in that incongruous way that many New Orleans restaurants are measured. The kind of place you head to at the last minute and when you walk in you're told that you'll have to wait at least 45 minutes for a table. And, without reflection, you do. 
In reading this article about New Orleans former Chief Technology Officer Greg Meffert I noticed that his successor had already resigned. I thought that was strange, since he had only been in the position for a short while. While checking out the city's official website I found this page which, not only doesn't tell you the name of the current CTO, but still lists Greg Meffert as being in that position. And Nagin wants to run the Road Home program? Give me a post-traumatic break. 
The plan was to leave yesterday early. Bridget and her friend Maddie were exhausted and happily sleeping. So was I until the Krewe of Buzzards gathered outside my house at 7 am and woke me up, and then lured me outside where I was immediately captivated by the spirit of Mardi Gras. The weather was just about perfect: mild and overcast, but not too cool. So Becky and I decided to ride our bikes down to St. Charles to check things out. 
Yesterday morning was the Thoth parade (pronounced 'Towth'), which is the only one I got to this year. Thoth takes a non-traditional route through Uptown New Orleans, and was really easy for me to catch it. Mostly, because it passes right in front of my house. When I bought the house back in 2004 my real estate agent, Lesley, told me that I'd be required to have a parade party. So I invited a bunch of friends and we all had a great time. Last year it didn't pass by because of Katrina so I had forgotten how much fun Thoth was until yesterday, when once again my friends all came and had a blast.
Everyone in New Orleans is feverishly preparing. To say that people are 'bursting with joy' would be a lame understatement. Everyone is dressed up in Saints jerseys: at school, at work, at bars, at church, and at funerals. It's not unusual to see entire families (mom, dad, three young kids) all wearing black and gold as they climb into an SUV that has more flags than the United Nations. Except all the flags are the same. The family pulls out of their driveway and cruises along St. Charles Avenue where the traffic moves slowly because few stoplights work. All of the cars have Saints flags, so it looks more like a parade than a traffic jam.