Political Puddle

I really didn’t know what I was doing at Joe Brown Park on Wednesday afternoon, but any break from the monotonous data entry project that Chief Engineer Nguyen assigned me last week, in my opinion, was a much needed break. And then, something rather unexpected happened. I was informed that the mayor was coming to Joe Brown Park to take a look at the recent renovations that have taken place since Katrina.

The park itself is located in New Orleans East, all of which was absolutely devastated by the flooding from Katrina. For the majority of nearly two years the park was unable to gather any citywide consideration to be rebuilt, given the wealth of existing problems with the buildings, homes, and roadways. Representing a venue at which everything from youth sports to wedding receptions would take place, Joe Brown Park, I would argue, was formerly a very important piece of New Orleans East. The restoration of this iconic park, however, was unique in that it symbolized the first real push by the city to restore a very personal part of New Orleans East that would seem to change how people spend their leisure time. This restorative effort was directed specifically at the citizens of New Orleans East, and it was sure to facilitate a boost in morale and, equally importantly, a more active and healthy outdoor lifestyle. I walked around and viewed a park pavilion that was newly painted and restored, a pond fountain, baseball fields, and tennis courts in close vicinity. What I didn’t see was the work that still had to be done. Downed trees from the flooding lined the perimeter of the picturesque panorama. An indoor community pool, likely playing host to standing water that had not been drained from Katrina, sat in the distance. A bike path that zigzagged throughout the park’s scenery remained invisible. We finally convened outside a central park building with a decimated interior and water lines four or so feet from the ground, awaiting the mayor’s arrival.

I was about to meet the storied mayor of New Orleans, Mr. Clarence Ray Nagin (Cee Raaaaay, as described by one of my coworkers). Although I didn’t have nearly as much discontent for the man whom many of the citizens of New Orleans had learned to loathe for his policies behind the handling of Katrina and his off-script and off-key remarks, I still had to look enthusiastic to meet him. When he and his caravanning entourage finally pulled up through the gates of Joe Brown Park, I was uncharacteristically anxious (in a good way). He made the rounds and I when he finally got to me, I grasped his hand and shook it hard. Besides a non-verbal head nod, I was, however, at a loss of words. I uttered in a fairly incoherent manner something to the extent of “Andy…intern…Duke.” I didn’t really embrace the opportunity to come across as smoothly as I had hoped, which was evidently clear to C. Ray, but the experience was something I came to later value.

The twenty or so of us (the meeting was not open to the press, which only added to the cool factor of the experience) relocated inside the air conditioned building following the introductions. Nagin began the very informal meeting by asking a fair amount of factual questions about the status of the park and the strategy and priority for rebuilding. Ms. Cynthia Hedge-Morrell, city council representative for District E of New Orleans, provided Nagin with the majority of the responses, and some of the other representatives from DRC, a construction company contracted by the city of New Orleans for many of the rebuilding projects, as well as the Parks Department chimed in with their respective status updates. During the entire briefing, I lost focus from the actual meeting at hand and switched focus from what Nagin was saying to his impeccably shiny golden head. I had heard legends about it, but to see it in person is a completely different experience.

Nagin was indeed very personable and charismatic, but he didn’t come across as incredibly verbose or well spoken, a trait of his I had grown to expect. One side of me was embracing the fact that Nagin responded to most of the city officials’ and representatives’ updates on the park with “That’s awesome, man” or “Man, that is great” while another part of me, the part that had grown accustomed to Dick Broadhead’s mellifluously strung speeches at Duke, was aching for an amazing oration by Nagin. And of course, there was a third side of me that wanted him to go off on a ridiculous tangent to the twenty of us in the park building on that Wednesday afternoon. The reality is, in hindsight, I agree with Nagin in his characterization of the work being done to Joe Brown Park. Although I would like to think there are better assessments, sometime “That’s awesome, man” does the perfect justice.

-Andy Winslow