Gina Forsyth

ON THIS THANKSGIVING, I AM GIVING THANKS

For these past two and a half months, I am overwhelmed with thanks to all the people who have helped me with work, places to stay, financial aid, and just plain good thoughts. I will honor a few of them later in this essay.

I'm happy to say that I am now home--home, such as it is (to paraphrase an old song), be it ever in shambles, there's no place like home. Many of us have had to think and rethink about what home means to us. Those of us among the New Orleans Diaspora are still thinking, and still reinventing "home" from wherever we are: whether we are away from our beloved city, or are back, picking up the pieces and rebuilding.

Home. I read in a recent email that now "How's ya house?" has replaced "Where y'at?" as the New Orleans greeting. I've had several people ask me "How's ya house?" in the last two and a half months.

I am happy to say that I didn't lose my house. On this Thanksgiving Day, I am thankful to be able to celebrate it in New Orleans. However, I don't know yet whether I still have my HOME, my CITY, my COMMUNITY. Much of that community is gone, and the loss leaves a huge hole in my heart.

I miss the Ninth Ward studio I used to go to to lay down fiddle tracks. I miss Mike and Katie. I miss the Ninth Ward, Lakeview, and Carrollton Avenue as they once were. I miss Thrift City.

In August, I was all set to lose everything. Many of my friends did. I came back, weeks later, to find out that the water in my street went up to my third porch step, and stopped there. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for my luck, but sad for my friends.

On this Thanksgiving, I am thankful for all the people who have opened their homes to me, and allowed me the time to think about all the things I miss about New Orleans. Now, however, I get to think about them from my apartment that now bears a blue roof, some ruined furniture in my shed (the duplex where I live was raised, but not the shed), and some missing porch steps.

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, here's my list of thank-yous:

To the Howells, who put me and my two cats up in Missouri; to Tom Piazza, for helping me stay sane; to Mike Luster, who helped me out with a gig and a place to stay on my way back south, through Monroe, LA; to Philip, who put me and the cats up in Lafayette (or maybe, put up with us); to Jeanne and Lee, for cat-sitting; to Paula, for miraculously finding Georgia when she was trying to find her way home one evening...

To Terry Huval, Tom Yeager, Michael Terry, Lisa Markley, Dayna Kurtz, Pat Humphries and Sandy O. for helping me get gigs, and helping to make up for the lost income due to the storm; to NERFA, and to Heymanns for their help; to Esther and Dudley for getting my cats, car, and guitar out of New Orleans; to the Daigreponts for a place to park that car; to my brother, Tom, for a place to crash in Dallas; to Sam and Meera, for places to crash in Lafayette and Houston, and finally, to Dave Cash, for keeping this website going through it all.

And if I've forgotten anyone, sorry for the omission, and thank you, too.

And oh yeah--the Sunday fais do do at Tipitina is back, but gigs are still scarce around here. So if you have a house concert or other venue you'd like me to play, I'm still very much available to travel. And I will be traveling again over the next few months...

posted by gina on November 24, 2005 at 11:22 AM | Comments (2)

AFTER THE STORM--MORE NOTES FROM ONE OF THE NEW ORLEANS DIASPORA

In case you didn't read it in the news section, I am alive and well in Malden, MO.

I was playing the Tonder Festival in Denmark, with Bruce Daigrepont, when the storm hit. We are all ok, but living with varying degrees of loss. I was fortunate to have my cat sitter drive my car with my guitar and two cats to Memphis. I stayed with her and her partner for two days at a Ramada Inn in West Memphis(kudos to Esther and Dudley), before driving to this farmhouse, here in what is called "The Bootheel" of Missouri, a half hour from Sheryl Crow's hometown (Kennett, MO), and less than an hour from Arkansas.

I've now been here since Thursday, September, 1. I could rant about the phone ringing off the hook, and having to share one phone line with a writer and a civil rights attorney, but that's nothing compared to my friends who have lost their homes and everything in them; to the horrid conditions experienced by the people who couldn't leave (no cars, and no buses taking them out of town until it was too late); and the still horrid conditions faced by the people who are still in New Orleans. One of them is my next-door neighbor.

By bizarre comparison, I feel strangely lucky. Honestly, I'm afraid to feel too lucky, or much of anything else other than the numbness I now feel. Yes, I've lost all my local gigs for the forseeable future. But otherwise, I'm ok. I am alive. I will be playing music again soon, in other places. The friends I know are alive and safe. I have yet to see the horror of what has happened to my city firsthard. But witness Katrina's scars, I will--as soon as they let me back in to the city to see them.

When that will be, I do not know. The most poignant thing I've heard in the last several days is, "I don't know when I'll be coming back home."

You might say "...or what I'll find when I get there," but that one is for later--namely, when I can finally get back home.

posted by gina on September 6, 2005 at 10:16 PM | Comments (0)

OK, I admit it: I listened to 70s pop along with just about everybody else in my generation who wasn't living under a rock [obtuse pun: a rock, Iraq, get it?].

OK, bad puns aside, yes, I spent more than my share of my misspent youth listening to the artist formerly known as Cat Stevens. I even had a Cat Stevens t-shirt. (I think I might even still have it somewhere).

Well, imagine my surprise when I read the headlines, to find out that the Bush Administration--which is trying very hard make up for its failure to catch Osama Bin-Laden--just showed us that it really, really IS doing something to keep us safe from terrorists: it denied Cat Stevens entry into this country.

As I understand it, Stevens, who now goes by the name Yusef Islam, gave some money to a handful of Muslim charities, and, according to the Bush Administration, some of that money fell into the wrong hands, namely, to terrorist groups.

Well, did Cat Stevens give money to terrorists? If so, why did the gents at Homeland Security let him in before? He was in the United States as recently as May of this year. Why is he on a watch list now, six weeks before the presidential election?

On Cat Stevens' fan website, www.catstevens.com, they're denying that that Stevens gave money to organizations affiliated with terrorists. In fact, Mr. Stevens has repeatedly denounced terrorism in general and the September 11 attacks, in particular. (You can read all about it in Yusef Islam's official website, www.yusufislam.org.uk).

For those who do not buy the argument that the war in Iraq and the war on terrorism are one and the same, this move by the Bush Administration appears to be keeping out not terrorists, but those who dare question administration policy. And yes, the timing of it strikes me a little funny.

In short, keeping the guy who wrote "Peace Train" out of this country is going too far. At this point, I see no good reason not to let Cat Stevens into the US.

Moreover, some of the donors to some of Cat Stevens' charities include Paul McCartney and David Bowie. Are we going to keep Paul McCartney and David Bowie out of the country, too? Of course not! They're not Muslims!

I don't know if a Kerry administration would let Cat Stevens back into the country. However, I do think a Kerry administration might, just might, give us a more common-sense approach to immigration/entry policy. Or so one would hope.

Child of the 70s that I am, I can't help but think of that song Neil Sedaka wrote for John Lennon that went, "There was a time when strangers were welcome here." OK, I'm not sure how, or if, Mohammed Atta and his ilk should be welcome here. But Cat Stevens? Come on!

So many of you have been asking about this song since I started playing it that I decided to go ahead and put it on the web site, for anyone else who might like to learn it. I didn't write this one: I got it from the latest means of spreading the folk tradition--the Internet. This is truly a folk song for our time.

If you're happy and you know it, bomb Iraq (clap clap)
If you're happy and you know it, bomb Iraq (clap clap)
If you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it
If you're happy and you know it, bomb Iraq

If your equities are falling, bomb Iraq
If your equities are falling, bomb Iraq
If your equities are falling, and your losses are appalling
If your equities are falling, bomb Iraq.

If the GDP is shrinking, bomb Iraq,
....And W's back to drinking,
If the GDP is shrinking, bomb Iraq,

If the talk has turned to Harken, bomb Iraq,
....and that Krugman-dawg is barkin',
If the talk has turned to Harken, bomb Iraq!

Are they checking Halliburton? Bomb Iraq
....And for Cheney jail looks certain
If they're checking Halliburton, bomb Iraq

If your brother is a turkey, bomb Iraq
.....And Florida's goin' bazerk-y
If your brother is a turkey, bomb Iraq

If the Canadians call you "moron," bomb Iraq
....Then it's time to get your war on
If the Canadians call you "moron," bomb Iraq

If Noelle gets caught with crack...bomb Iraq
....and the twins drop booze for smack
If Noelle gets caught with crack...bomb Iraq

To divert public attention bomb Iraq
....From the doings of your henchmen
To divert public attention bomb Iraq

To get drilling in the Artic, bomb Iraq, ....
You can run us out of oil, With the Middle East aboil,
To get drilling in the Artic, bomb Iraq.

Got any ideas for new oxymorons? Send them to me at gina@ginaforsyth.com, or post them in the guestbook. The only rule is that I get to decide which ones to use.

I want to thank the U.S. Supreme Court for helping me out with this idea that I've been having in my head for years: by deciding that cops don't have to read people's rights on public transportation, the Supreme Court gave me a new twist on what to do with this one:

Well now I know all about
How the City of Big Shoulders
Got that nickname
Did you ever try hauling
A 30-pound piece of luggage
On board the El Train?

Well I have, but otherwise
It's a real fun trip
You can go to the Loop
Or to the zoo
And see the pandas

I wanna go home with the alligators
Chomp my ass and see ya later
And take my name
To the seven old men and two old women
It's all the same
Me and my luggage
We left O'Hare
On the Blue Line for the North Side
But when I got on
I wanted to run
I got so scared that I cried

Cause all on board
From the men in blue
To the women too
Were you could say muscularly gifted

Then the police said they had to search my bag
I said "Fine, if you can lift it."

Post 9/11 Airport Security: here's a true story that should make you feel better than ever about your safety--

I don't know if y'all know about those CD wrapper openers that they give you at music conferences like the Folk Alliance, but inside of every one of them is a single-edged razor blade. Please, heed this warning: if you have one of these handy-dandy tools, whatever you do, DON'T just forget about it and end up leaving it in your carryon luggage.

I found this out yesterday at BWI Airport (Baltimore), where security personnel made me crack open my favorite hot pink CD wrapper opener (which unbeknownst to me, was hiding inside my backpack), and where, upon finding the razor blade, they immediately took it.

Well, not only did this item get past airport security in New Orleans, but security at both airports let me keep my flathead screwdriver, which was also hidden inside my backpack.

Now, far be it from me to give the terrorists ideas, it does occur to me that I could threaten somebody just as easily with a screwdriver as I could a plastic CD opener with a razor blade in it--which I didn't even know or care was in there till yesterday. I guess I should have figured out that those tools have to get those CDs open some kinda way. Duh. Go figure.

Well, they took out the blade, but they let me keep the hot pink plastic shell. Maybe I'll try putting another razor blade in it at some point, and see if I can accidentally sneak it past security again.

If I hear another operatic singer do "God Bless America" one more time, I'm either going to break out into "This Land is Your Land" or smash my guitar on somebody's head.

...or, if you really must hear something patriotic, by all means, go out and find Martin Sexton's version of "America the Beautiful." It's on Martin's CD from a couple of years ago, Black Sheep. It's a capella, and it's as beautiful a version of this song as any I've ever heard, from one of the finest voices of our time. The rest of the CD is great, too.

...and, to the seemingly endless stream of red, white, and...uh, green (as in money�we all gotta do our part to prop up the economy, now) around us here are a few of my thoughts on...

But, with my one good eye
I sit and watch the world
Go blind and toothless
Right before my very...eye

And, right before my very...eye...I...
See commercials
Waving flags and saying
"Beat the rush!
Hate Bin Laden early�
And GET YOUR DENTURES NOW!!!!"

(And be sure to buy plenty of stock in PolyDent
While stock prices are still low!)

"And NOW�for a limited time only,
Special ZERO PERCENT financing on SUVs, and on ALL
Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder Seeing-Eye Dogs�
They lost it sniffing through the rubble at the World Trade Center,
But they can still lead the blind!"

Me, I've made up my mind�
I'm gonna go get my
Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder Seeing-Eye Dog now�
While I still have one good eye

On a more serious and somber note, it does appear that everyone I know seems to know someone who knows someone who's among the missing. I certainly do�Jeff Hardy, the brother of one of my Kerrville cohorts, Jack Hardy, was a chef at the World Trade Center, and is now among the missing. Please remember Jack in your thoughts. He really needs them now.

rants