THOSE WERE THE DAYS - "A Home Named Desire" Blog Series by James L. O'Connor

[James L. O'Connor]

Waking up in the morning can be an exuberating experience for anybody that breathes. Especially if you're living in 'Da Bricks', which is a totally different environment when, at any given moment, can become a war zone. But in this case it's a totally different scene because this is how I remember it.

I've been an early bird ever since I was old enough to walk, and I've always enjoyed the sunrise and the mystery behind it. Just the fascination of the rising sun shows me that there's beauty coming from the skies and how quickly it changes from dark to light. Every morning I would look out my window just to hear the near silence in the air, the sounds of dense traffic on Alvar Street (which was where I once reside) and the chirping of the birds. All are clear signs that a new day is dawning. Personally, it's also a time of day where I had an excuse just to see the wall-mounted floodlights shut off one building at a time (something that I've been doing since those floodlights were installed in 1976).

Then, there's the smell from the morning dew in the air as the water condenses onto the grass. Neighbors would come out to toss breadcrumbs and rice on the ground just so the neighborhood birds can have their early morning meal. Others sweep their hallways and their porches. And there are those who just want to sit on the porch and read the morning newspaper just to start their day.


These are just many of my personal memories of growing up in a neighborhood that was once a sightseer's paradise before it became one of the worst housing complexes in the country. The 1,824 unit Desire Housing Development was my home for close to eighteen years and I've been a witness of everything that has been going on in post-Hurricane Betsy New Orleans. Before the B.A.D. (Bull$!+, @$$holes and Drama) took place in the 1980's, which saw two on-site public schools close (one due to foundation problems), apartment units left abandoned for years on in, and a high crime rate, there was once beauty behind these 2-story, beige-red brick buildings. And I'm just lucky enough to catch it while Desire was still just a 'teeny bopper' at age 17.


Just about everyday in Desire, or in any housing development in New Orleans, you could see those large recognizable, wide-bed, 'moose-looking' orange Housing Authority trucks that always seems to carry everything. Like those super heavy entrance doors, boards, sheetrock, bricks, windows, etc. And ever so often the groundskeepers would come out with their tractor-size lawnmowers to cut the grass in these large courtyards, including the Moton and Dunn Elementary school sites (which were located within the development). The air is flooded with the smell of fresh cut grass all around the neighborhood. Nowadays, just the smell of cut grass in any neighborhood always seem to take me back to those good ol' days, just like the one I am writing on about my experiences growing up in what some of us call "Brick Manor". Playing 'Throwback Tackle', eating sandwiches (ham and cheese, peanut butter and jelly, even sugar sandwiches) or just chillin' on the porch or hanging up clothes. And if the Housing Authority's groundskeeper wasn't around to cut the grass near your porch, then some brother with a lawnmower of his own would cut it for you, just so he could get his hustle on. And it was a legal hustle.


After sunrise, depending on what day it is, many tenants in Desire are either getting ready for work or going to school. On weekends, many are just staying at home watching the Saturday morning cartoons, doing chores or waking up your homeboys for a game of 'suicide' football. For me, I go off to school, come home and play with my G.I. Joe, my Evel Kenievil wind-up bike, my electric football board game or playing "It" in an abandoned apartment and maybe some "Googa" (a demolition derby spinning top game) or play "Koo-Kan" (our version of stickball). When I'm by myself, I'm in the back hallway taking up a trade (i.e. fixing old fans and radios, and drawing on the hallway walls. My apologies to HANO). Oh, did I mention playing "It" in an abandoned unit?


Around Desire there were tenants who set up small gardens right next to the building near the clotheslines. They have some of the most beautiful flowers set up in a place where no one would ever think they'll find such wonderful horticulture. Others had plants sitting on their windowsills. I even heard that some had made a mini-garden with vegetables and fruits of all kinds. My mother kept plants in the house all the time and she always have something different everytime. I've learned to respect horticulture because this is what makes places, even housing projects, look like something, so I never did like to mess up plants...........except for just field grass. Where else are we gonna play?


Other times, like during the Christmas holidays, we're riding our bikes, skating or the girls were jumping double dutch on either Moton or Dunn school's blacktop. Some of us would ride our bikes on school grounds during school days just so we could do some tricks, not like today's X-Games because we were not crazy. We would keep on riding till the Orleans Parish School Board security would run us out or the school's janitor (Moton had Mr. Fisher, while Dunn had Mr. Plummer) would run us out. As kids, some of us would have our G.I. Joes, our Barbie dolls, our Easy Bake ovens and our Monopoly games. The grown folks would have a Christmas party at the house and load up on food and alcohol (PLEASE EASE UP ON THE LIQUOR!!) Ahhh, those were the days.


The elderstatespersons among us would sit on the front, or back porch and just kick it. Just gossiping about what's happening around the 'hood or about a recipe or about life. Our mothers and grandmothers would do those things just to have a friendly, neighborly conversation. Like, whose child is starting college, whose kid made the Honor Roll. Who got promoted or who got arrested. They always had something to talk about. Even some of us who had gotten older would do the same thing. There was one lady that I know of who have been doing it for 50 years and she's had became Desire's official matriarch. She has seen it all from beginning to unceremonious end.


Our fathers and grandfathers had their thing going, as well. They always talk about something totally different from what the women of Desire are talking about. Their talk is mainly about sports (especially our poor New Orleans Saints), women and, in many cases, politics and Black empowerment. They even brag about their kids, too. Many of them tried to be there for their kids. Even in an era of absentee fathers, there are those who are trying to have their support and their time.


Another welcome sight was those snack trucks that you see on damn-near every corner in Desire or just about any neighborhood. There were about five snack trucks in the "Old D". There was Jackie's on the corner of Desire and Abundance streets. There's June on Desire and Pleasure streets. Mrs. Virgie across the street from the old Moton school lot where I can see from my livingroom window. And on Desire and Benefit, which was "Ground Zero" there were two trucks that come out at different times. During the day it's Leo's, which sits on the west side of Benefit Street, and, after 9 pm on the east side of Benefit, was Doc's. Man, just the mentioning of Doc's got me thinking about those hot sausage po-boy's and a Big Shot pineapple cola right about now. Mrs. Virgie has got them, too. And, just like Doc's, Mrs Virgie has snacks, sandwiches, smokes and beer. Her truck is there when DJ Carriere or another DJ would throw a block party. In the mid '80s during the summer, the DJ would be out there in the same courtyard that's across the street from the old Moton school lot almost every night. And since sound travels, I would stick a tiny microphone out the window from my portable tape recorder and tape the block party. That's where I first heard and seen Rappin Roy. Damn, those were the days.


I don't know who was the first person who thought up freezing Kool-Aid in a plastic cup, but it was genius. Frozen cups was, and is, a summertime treat. We had a nickname for those frozen cups and it's a 'New Orleans Original'. We call them "Huck-A-Bucks" (and I'm trying to get that term on a rap record). They came in beau coup (pronounced "Boo-Coo) flavors. Cherry, Lemonade, Pineapple, Grape. Sometimes they add fruit cocktail in them or even, Jell-O. At the time they used to be 15 to 25 cents a head. Many tenants sold them out of their houses. It was a side hustle and, this too, was a legal one. My folks took a crack at it at one time and we did okay. Hell, at least the rent got paid and it kept the roof over our heads.


During those hot summer months, when the neighborhood pool was opened, many of us would go and swim a few laps or just have a big splash. One of those pools was temporarily closed because a girl named Betty Jean Parker had drowned there. But they later re-opened the pool in her memory. If we couldn't go swim laps at the pool or on the lakefront (which was also closed for a while because it was deemed unfit for swimming), then there was always the fire hydrant (Sorry NOFD. But if you need it, we'll get out of your way). Everybody would just get wet and wild sitting under the water. It's even more fun when someone, who is strong enough to handle the water pressure coming from this giant fountain, would go and place a stick or a pipe infront of the water to raise it up higher to make it a shower. That way we could get under the water. We would even get a bucket, pail or a pork and beans can to dump water on each other. I wonder if anyone used a Gatorade bucket? Let us move on.


On occasion, there would be a birthday party, a house party or even a block party and everybody in Desire would be there. Even those from other 'hoods were welcomed, just as long as there is no extracurricular activity going on, illegal or otherwise. We had DJs come in to do the music, like Slick Leo, Carriere, and my whoodis, my homies, Will and Nook. Neighbors would make plates and drinks for those in and/or outside of Desire or one of the trucks would be around to do some catering of their own. This was like Jazz Fest, Family Day @ City Park and Budweiser Superfest all wrapped up in one...............only smaller.


I could recall the block parties during the mid-1970s where everything and just about everyone started to resemble one of those "Blaxploitation" flicks like Cooley High, Foxy Brown, The Mack, Superfly, Cleopatra Jones (I have a friend by that name in real life), Truck Turner, 3 The Hard Way, Dolemite and that cat who was a bad mutha... (SHUT YOUR MOUTH!!!). I'm not fibbin' I actually thought I was in a '70s flick because just about everyone was either a player or pimp. They had the clothes, they had the rides. They even had the slanguage for that time. Even inside their houses looked so (I can't use 2000's terminology. Since I'm "Bi-Slangual", I'll just say...) "Groovay". Again, to quote Archie Bunker, 'Those were the days'.


In the early evening everything winds down. We're coming home from school/work, got through playing ball, cutting or perming up your friend or neighbor's hair or you've finished watching the game (Poor Saints). Meanwhile, others are going out to get their groove/freak on, especially on the weekends. We go out to parties or chill out at a club or go to a concert. And this was before all the mess started. In many cases there would be a fight or two, but the person you fought is still alive. The next day you bury the hatchet, shake hands and you're friends again. Today, when and if you fight someone there's a good chance that there won't be any making up. Guns are used to solve conflicts, most of which is over petty stuff. Senseless stuff. I've seen too many young people dominating the obituaries in these newspapers and not the people who died of old age. This is what kills the morale in the neighborhood. There is really no future in the 'Thug Life' that Tupac raps about. Anyway...........


Watching the sunset over the trees at nearby Sampson Park, which is adjacent to the Desire's border line on the west side just off Piety Street, was also amazing. The colors is what always get me. Since I'm an artist, I can truly relate to the changing of the sky from light to dark. Again, I had an excuse to watch the floodlights and street lamps activate themselves via photoelectric switches. I remember I used to envy the courtyard across the street from Moton school because it was so well lit. Well, every court was well lit, but this one was lit up right.


On the corner of Desire and Benefit streets (Ground Zero) where Doc's truck was, it was the hot spot for everybody. It was the hottest hangout next to the club. It was like a club, an outdoor club. Everyone would congregate, have themselves a smoke, a bruski (beer or malt liquor), a cold drink (soda pop, soda water, acid, etc. I told ya I was "Bi-Slangual"), eating a hamburger, hot sausage, fish or shrimp po'boy (our hoagie or hero sandwich) and just chillin'. Then somebody would break out one of those huge radios that we called, "Ghetto Blasters", like the one a young LL Cool J use to have on one of his videos, and just have the whole 'hood jumping. There was hardly a fight happening because we had no time for that. We were too busy congregating and socializing, and enjoying our Po' Boys.


After it's all over you go home and all you hear is silence. Except maybe a passing Public Service/RTA bus, some cars or that enormous Reed window fan that's humming in your kitchen window. It was a time to rest your head and have a "hakunamatata" moment. No more worries for the rest of the day. In most of my eighteen years as a Desire resident, I experienced all of it for myself, just like those in this neighborhood or from other neighborhoods who can relate to what I'm saying. Because this was a 'beautiful day in the neighborhood'. Now everybody is turning themselves in for the night.


And then...................the process starts all over again. MAN, THOSE WERE THE DAYS!!}