Please support this program – it’s for the children, and the future of New Orleans!

 Thanks,

Alana Bishop Monaghan

This year’s proceeds will be donated to The Roots of Music (www.therootsofmusic.com) …this program serves almost 100 students, making up a full marching band that is successfully parading the city since Mardi Gras 2009.  The program provides music education in history, theory, instrumental instruction and ensemble performance. Furthermore, academic tutoring is offered to ensure the students maintain at least a 2.5 GPA in school. Participation in the Roots of Music is free for students but attendance is mandatory. The students are also provided a hot meal before being sent home on buses.

Registration will be in Jackson Square in front of the Cabildo from 9am-10:30am, where participants will enjoy a performance by the students and get their first card. The rest of the hand of 5 card stud will be dealt at Erin Rose, Molly’s at the Market, Johnny White’s and Tropical Isle.  Hands will be judged at 13 Monaghan, where there will also be an auction.

Each hand played will require a $30.00 donation and will include a commemorative t-shirt. 

Please register and pay on our website to reserve your space today www.nolacharitycrawl.org. If you can’t make it out that day, please send your donation.

Looking forward to seeing you on June 26!!!

Thanks,

Alana

chris jones was my husband.  he was born in september 1968 in georgia, i met him in july 2004 in texas and we got married in october 2006 also in texas.  he built things made of wood (and when i say built i mean everything he made was meant to last for a good 100 years or longer) as a hobby.  he drew houses as a living.  we came to new orleans seven months after we got married.  nola is home for me and we wanted to help to rebuild the city after the storm. the best way we could think to do that was to live here, have a family here, and grow old here.  we did not get to do all of that because chris died in july 2008.

for my birthday in 2006 he designed and built me a giant four poster bed.  he searched for weeks to find the right wood.  had his dad help him with the lathe to hand turn all four posts and the filial eggs for on top of them.  i had always wanted a four poster bed.  after he died, i had my brother help me take it apart (which was entertaining for me to watch because there were bolts, and hidden bolts, and screws you couldn’t see that troy had to find).  i loved the bed but i couldn’t sleep in it anymore.  troy kept the wood for me.  one day i knew he’d find a way to use it.

when the AmeriCorps NCCC silver 6  team and jill came to new orleans i got to work with them building KaBoom! playgrounds around the city.  what i didn’t know was that there was a “secret” project they were working on.  one that would mean so much to me.  they and my brother were building benches out of the wood from chris’ bed that would go to a baseball diamond that was to built this spring.  they cut and re-stained and varnished the wood and built two really beautiful (and comfortable) benches for people to use at the brand new baseball field.  the AmeriCorps NCCC gold 3 team and marnie then installed them this spring.  they made a plaque and brought it to my brother that says “in memory of chris jones”.

troy had a rare day off today and he called and asked me to lunch and said he had a surprise for me.  after we ate he drove me around to a couple different places and we ended up at the new baseball field.  we got out and walked around and then came to the benches that silver 6 made.  i recognized the wood.  then he brought out the plaque that gold 3 made and we walked to the back of the benches and he mounted the plaque.

i cannot imagine that chris would not be overjoyed at the re-purposing of the wood he so carefully chose and sanded and stained for me.  he wanted to bring something good to new orleans, because he didn’t believe that the people here deserved so much that was bad.  one of the very first things we ever did when we met was go to my first baseball game in round rock just outside of austin.  since he cannot be here in person to bring good things home i think he will be there in spirit every time a mom or dad  sits on the benches to watch their child play ball or a little brother or sister crawls or lies on those beautiful benches.  i can’t say thank you loudly or longly enough to silver 6 and jill and gold 3 and marnie and especially my brother troy.  what they have done for chris and for me is amazing.  what they all continue to do will be history changing for the city of new orleans and the people who call it home.

         When we visited George Washington Carver Elementary School we were amazed by the environment they have created with simple decorative details. Banners welcoming you into President Obama’s Library, an invitation to relax in the Maya Angelou Gazebo and College Pennants are monuments to the administration and teacher’s dedication to the students. Students are made welcome in the school. Futures plans and goals are laid out before them.

Truly Amazing.

         Oh… and windsocks. GWC Elementary is a modular site. Trailers on the site of the demolished Carver site. Right across the street from where the Florida and Desire Projects used to be. Right down the road from the new housing communities. Beautiful Brownstone style structures (see…I have been working with Oriole and Nationals fans). Windsocks.  Splashes of color rippling in the breeze and for the first time at a modular site, I forgot I was at a modular site. And now… ladies and gentlemen… Marnie… What did you think of our adventure today?

            Well, Troy. Seeing those bursts of color and those connections with school and sky put a smile on my face this April morning.  And guess what happens next month, on May 5^th?  Countries around the world will be celebrating Children’s Day, or Tango-no-Sekku.  On this day, with its origins stretching back to 8^th century China, families fly one koinobori “windsock” for each child of the household in order to celebrate the happiness, health, and strength of all children. 

If they do it, why shouldn’t we? 

          Putting up something as simple as a windsock can make a child’s day…I know it made mine.  The Chinese fly carp-shaped windsocks because according to legend, a carp that swims upstream becomes a dragon. Against adverse condition and with great determination, they persevere.  And isn’t that what our children are doing everyday at school?

          So let’s put ‘em up in ALL our modular sites.  Whether it’s carp-themed, hummingbird-themed, Saints-themed or crab-themed…it’s important.  We are sending out letters to all the kite/windsock/wind art companies that we can find.  As usual we are open to suggestions, ideas and donations to further this windsock dream.

Contact troy.peloquin@rsdla.net or send donations directly to

Troy Peloquin

RSD

1641 Poland Ave

New Orleans, LA 70117      

If you are reading this on facebook please check us out at www.nolaschoolvolunteers.org

We measured and remeasured and then re remeasured. Then we broke soil. We hand dug the infield, leveled the outfield, wheel barrowed uncountable loads of dirt, sand, clay, sod for miles and miles. 3 weeks later we were finished. There was no music montage in between. There was no genie emerging from a Robyn lamp. There was the unending determination of an Americorps team and the help of hundreds of now blistered hands. Lawyers from DRI came out to help. Students in town from North Carolina, Boston and VT stopped by on their way to Bourbon Street. Hillel reminded us of tikkun olam. Repairing the world.  With shovels and rakes. With a roller for Jake and Paul. With teamwork. With stubbornness. We were unified by our hearts and hands and mostly by… baseball. I’ve never seen so many baseball hats. Yankees, Rams, Tigers (LSU and Detroit), Twins, Orioles, Blue Jays, Jayhawks, Cubs, Tarheels, Cardinals, White Sox and Red Sox… all working together. All admitting that, even on their best day, none of their star hitters would be able to crank one out of this 440’ beast. Not even Jeter. We played a quit at bat after we finished and everyone got hits. I felt like I was 10 years old rounding the bases. I’m often proud of the work that I do, I am often humbled and honored by the people I am fortunate to work with. This is a little bigger. This is a diamond.

Who wants to build the next 1?

We celebrate today like never before.  We have worked and sacrificed in nightmare visions in order to see this joy.  But one day, this too will be a wonderful but distant memory.  What we don’t celebrate today is something of which we are not aware.

There has been a change in our DNA.  Our tremors, our tears, our fears have been replaced with steel.  While the rest of the country runs from mudslides, urban flash fires and a world stopped by snow.  While the world reels from sunamis, earthquakes and fear of war, we celebrate.  We have little fear.

Why would we?  What is mother nature going to do?  Flood us?  Destroy our homes?  Kill large numbers of us?  So what?  We’ll just rebuild, cook better food, make our educational system the country’s best!   We will always finish strong.  We know, unlike the rest of the world, that we can replace horror with joy.  We have proof that we can move from world sympathy to WORLD CHAMPIONS!  We can make pigs fly and ice skate in hell!

And, a word for those who will still insist on holding us to the past.  Without whites’ help, President Obama would not be in office.  Without blacks’ help, Mitch Landrieu would not be in office.  Our Vietnamese congressman watched the Who-Dats in the oval office with a black President…and our Indian Governor celebrated in Miami.  For those who talk of shadow governments in order to tear us apart…you lose.  You cannot tear steel!

For years we have been different for many of the wrong reasons.  But now look for the rest of the world to hope to be different, just like us.  We have been to war.  They have not.  We have not only survived but thrived.  Whatever lies ahead, we know from experience that we will finish strong.  There is a cool Brees a comin’….and WE DAT!

Dear Miami,
The Saints are coming. And so are we, their loyal, long-suffering and slightly discombobulated Super Bowl-bound fans.

While there’s still time to prepare — although a few hard-core Who Dats will begin trickling in Monday, most of us won’t arrive until Thursday or Friday — we thought we’d give you a heads-up about what you should expect.

First things first: You need more beer.

Yeah, we know. You ordered extra. You think you have more than any group of humans could possibly consume in one week. Trust us. You don’t.

New Orleans was a drinking town long before the Saints drove us to drink. But it turns out beer tastes better when you’re winning. (Who knew?) So let’s just say we’re thirsty for more than a championship; adjust your stockpiles accordingly.

And look. When we ask you for a go-cup, be nice to us. We don’t even know what “open container law” means. Is that anything like “last call”?

It’s Carnival season in New Orleans (that’s Mardi Gras to you), and we’ll be taking the celebration on the road. So don’t be startled if you walk past us and we throw stuff at you; that’s just our way of saying hello.

Oh, and sorry in advance about those beads we leave dangling from your palm trees. We just can’t help ourselves.
February is also crawfish season, and you can be sure that more than one enterprising tailgater will figure out a way to transport a couple sacks of live mudbugs and a boiling pot to Miami.

When the dude in the ‘Who Dat’ T-shirt asks if you want to suck da head and pinch da tail, resist the urge to punch him. He’s not propositioning you. He’s inviting you to dinner.

And if you see a big Cajun guy who looks exactly like an old Saints quarterback walking around town in a dress … don’t ask. It’s a long story.

We know that crowd control is a major concern for any Super Bowl host city. Our advice? Put away the riot gear.

Reason No. 1: Indianapolis is going to lose, and their fans are way too dull to start a riot.

Reason No. 2: New Orleans showed the world on Sunday that we know how to throw a victory party. We don’t burn cars. We dance on them.

Reason No. 3: Even if we did lose, which we won’t, leaving the stadium would be like leaving a funeral, and our typical response to that is to have a parade.

Speaking of which: If you happen to see a brass band roll by, followed by a line of folks waving their handkerchiefs, you’re not supposed to just stand there and watch. As our own Irma Thomas would say, get your backfield in motion.

And hey, Mister DJ! Yes, we know you’ve already played that stupid Ying Yang Twins song 10 times tonight, but indulge us just one more time.

To us, “Halftime (Stand Up and Get Crunk)” isn’t just a song; it’s 576 points of good memories. It’s the sound of a Drew Brees touchdown pass to Devery Henderson, a Pierre Thomas dive for first down on 4th-and-1, a Garrett Hartley field goal sailing through the uprights in overtime.

It’s what a championship sounds like. You may get sick of hearing it. We won’t. Encore, dammit.

Inside Sun Life Stadium, you may find your ears ringing more than usual. We’re louder than other fans. Seven thousand of ours sound like 70,000 of theirs.

Don’t believe us? Ask the 12th man in the Vikings huddle.

Some people think it’s just the Dome that heightens our volume. But you’re about to discover a little secret: We can scream loud enough to make your head explode, indoors or out.

It’s not the roof. It’s the heart.

Well, OK, and the beer.
Don’t be surprised if there are more Saints fans outside the stadium than inside. A lot of us are coming just to say we were part of history, even if we can’t witness it up close. The Saints are family to us, and you know how it is with family: We want to be there for them, whether they really need us or not. Because we know our presence will mean something to them, whether they can see us or not.

Come to think of it, seeing as how you’re taking us in for the week, we pretty much regard you as family, too. So we’re warning you now: If you’re within hugging distance, you’re fair game.

Hugging strangers is a proud Who Dat tradition, right up there with crying when we win.

Most sports fans cry when their teams lose. Not us. We’ve been losing gracefully and with good humor for 43 years. Tragedy and disappointment don’t faze us. It’s success that makes us go to pieces.

Hurricane Katrina? We got that under control. The Saints in the Super Bowl? SOMEBODY CALL A PARAMEDIC!!!

So anyway, don’t let the tears of joy freak you out. We’re just … disoriented.

OK. Let’s review:

Order more beer. Throw me something, mister. Suck da heads. Wear da dress. Stand up. Get crunk. Hug it out. Protect your eardrums. Pass the Kleenex. Hoist the trophy.

See you at the victory party.

Faithfully yours,

The Who Dat Nation