Notes from the Plague – Chalmette National Cemetery

halmette National Cemetery,

Jean Lafitte National Historical Park, Louisiana (1976)

In 1976, I had lived in New Orleans less than a year. It was also a time when I started to shoot and develop black and white film. As you can see, my interest in cemeteries goes back a long way. On this day, I went to the preserved grounds where the Battle of New Orleans was fought in 1815. The property includes the Chalmette National Cemetery. Created at the end of the Civil War, it is the last resting place for 12,000 Union soldiers.

In the years since, veterans from the Spanish-American War through Viet Nam were interred there. At the time of my visit, I did not know what the “U.S.C.T.” inscription on the grave markers stood for. Seems like the victorious Union wanted to drive home a point by burying their African-American dead here on hallowed Southern ground. ‘U.S.C.T.’ stands for ‘United States Colored Troops.’

Grave of Sarah Fowler

Chalmette National Cemetery, Louisiana (1976)

SARAH J.

WIFE OF 

HENRY M. FOWLER SUP’T

CHALMETTE NATIONAL CEMETERY

DIED OCT. 8, 1878

A VICTIM OF THE EPIDEMIC

I recall this cemetery because you will see graves that cite the epidemics of that time. Fast forward to now and we are again reminded that we are not immune… epidemics happen…the microbes will always be there. The microbes roll out new models better than Toyota. As long as we’re around, microbes will evolve so they can continue to exploit us. This age of globalization and international travel just makes it easier.

The New York Times reported on April 5, 2020 that 430,000 people flew to the United States on direct flights just from China since the Coronavirus outbreak was first reported at the beginning of the year. Just from China.

When I taught parasitology in graduate school three years before these pictures were taken, I reminded students that the world was shrinking. I emphasized (especially to those self-important pre-med undergraduates) that they had better be able to recognize mysterious, tropical parasites because they were quite likely to see them in the future. I understand that we are dealing with a virus now, not a parasite, but in this age of easy, constant global travel, exposure to exotic diseases is a given.

Grave of Alexander Renshaw

Chalmette National Cemetery, Louisiana (1976)

TO MY SON

ALEXANDER D. RENSHAW

2nd. Asst. Engineer U.S

Revenue Steamer Wilderness

Died of Yellow Fever

Sept. 1. 1867

In the 20 years

of his age.

Up to the 20th century, yellow fever was a common malady in the South. There would be outbreaks that killed thousands at a time. We were ignorant of the biology then and it took a long time before we knew that it was caused by a microbe transmitted by mosquitos.

Chalmette National Cemetery,

Jean Lafitte National Historical Park, Louisiana (1976)

Ignorance appears to be a persistent theme in the history of public health, but it’s not a fault and is true for all of science…all of knowledge. We don’t know what we don’t know until we know it.

Ignoring what we DO know can be a problem. Forgetting what we know can be a problem. Arrogantly deciding that we know better regardless of the facts is more than a problem.

I would hope you agree that in times of pandemic and a collapsed economy, we need public support systems with competent leadership. We should expect the central authorities to have the resources, procedures and personnel to manage a disaster. When the disaster is a storm, we expect to be rescued and sheltered until the crisis is over. When the disaster is a plague, I would hope we could minimize death and keep necessary services running. At the time of this writing, I see little indication that our central government is up to the task.

Notes from the Plague – Lessons Learned?

Playground Off Limits, Columbia, MD (7 April 2020)

Self-isolation and social distancing continue. There is little news in the paper or on TV other than about Coronavirus. I have not heard Rudy Giuliani’s name in weeks. The Interweb is awash in toilet paper jokes. This too shall pass…I hope.

When the weather permits, I take a bike ride through the neighborhood. The town has tried to restrict access to facilities that bring people too close together. Even playgrounds and tot lots are off limits.

We’ve had it so good for so long here in modern, Exceptional America. My grandpa told me about things that happened long ago and not since. It’s easy to believe some nasty things would never happen again.

Now, I’m the grandpa…not actually, but I am older than the average bear. I can tell you about the polio scares in the 50’s and how society was tense and social behaviors changed. But polio is an example that actually didn’t happen again here because resources were committed to finding a vaccine. The crippling disease is actually a thing of the past.

But wait.

While polio has been eradicated in the U.S. since 1979, it can still be found in undeveloped parts of the world. In 2003, some religious leaders in Nigeria declared that the polio vaccine was really a way for outside powers to make their children sterile. Extremists even murdered health care workers to prevent vaccinations. That’s how ignorance can kill as easily as the disease.

Oh to be in the Yellow Tape Business, Columbia, MD (7 April 2020)

As I write this, we still have not hit the peak of the curve. When the story of the national response is written, especially with regard to the performance of the president, the conclusions will not be glowing. The president has been slow, inept and willfully ignorant of the science that should support a proper course of action. This is what happens when a ratings-hungry narcissist is in charge and the main qualification for his staff is loyalty rather than expertise.

That means that their priority is NOT telling the president what he needs to hear, but instead keeping anything from him that will upset him. Word is the Toddler in Chief throws tantrums whenever he hears something he doesn’t like. Poor baby.

No Kids Allowed, Columbia, MD (7 April 2020)

When I was a student, way back in the last century, an eminent ecologist, Robert MacArthur, referred to what he called the ‘Titanic Effect,’ our tendency NOT to respond to pressing needs until a disaster happens first.

Better ships were built AFTER the ‘Unsinkable’ ocean liner went down.
Fire protection laws were modernized AFTER the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire.
My ‘Molotov Cocktail’ Ford Pinto was improved AFTER too many people were incinerated following rear-end collisions (and Ford was sued).

Maybe, when we recover from this pandemic, some common sense will prevail and REAL ‘lessons learned’ will be codified into our national governance. Agencies will be led by experts. Budgets and resources will be allocated with established policies that reflect their importance to our nation’s health and welfare.

Is that asking too much?

Notes from the Plague - Remembering Tom Dempsey

As I stay inside, with the Coronavirus pandemic dominating the news…missing games to play and live sports to watch, along comes a story at the intersection of all that. Today’s note takes us back to New Orleans. I lived there from 1975 to 1989.

Tom Dempsey achieved pro football immortality in 1970. It was sad to learn that Tom, six months younger than me, had been in a senior living facility because of Alzheimer’s and dementia that surfaced in 2012. It was Covid-19 that took him out.

He was the place kicker on the sad, woeful, expansion New Orleans Saints. Before they moved into the new Superdome, the Saints played in old Tulane Stadium, on the college campus in uptown New Orleans. His passing reminded me I took some grainy black and white shots of that extinct colosseum.

Tulane Stadium (1975)

In 1970, the team was only three years old and awful…but on this day, Dempsey kicked the longest field goal in NFL history (63 yards) in the last seconds to win one of only TWO games they would take that season. The old field goal record (56 yds) had stood for 17 years and his record held for 43 more before some Denver soccer kicker beat it…by just a yard…in that thin mountain air. Nertz.

Dempsey Connects from 63 (8 November 1970)

Photo from Bettmann/Bettmann Archives via Google

What made Dempsey special was the fact that he was born with half a foot. He had no toes on his kicking foot and, with a custom-made shoe, employed the old, straight-ahead kicking style…which was the only way footballs were kicked until the soccer players transformed the practice. The man was a brute. Six-two and over 250 pounds and half a foot and no right hand didn’t prevent him from kicking my booty like a routine point-after touchdown.

I happened to play racquetball against Dempsey in 1976…in the middle of his career. He was no longer with the Saints but lived in New Orleans in the off-season. He might have looked like a load on the field but he was an athlete. I was a decent player at the time but not in his class. The one indelible memory from that match is the moment I got in the way of one of his forehand smashes. Getting hit with the ball is common in the game. You try to force your opponent to the back of the court so you can control the front area and make the kill shot that ends the rally. That means you often stand between your opponent and the front wall. Let’s just say that when Tom’s shot hit my back, I saw the front of my shirt pooch outward a bit. I needed a moment to put my internal organs back where they belonged.

Tulane Stadium (1975)

Before the Superdome, billed as the Eighth Wonder of the World, opened in 1975, Tulane Stadium was football Mecca in New Orleans. It was the site of the annual Sugar Bowl on New Year’s Day and held three of the first nine NFL Super Bowls.

Opened in 1926 and closed in 1975, it held over 80,000 spectators. Demolition began soon after these pictures were taken and was completed in 1980.

Tulane Stadium (1975)

After seeing these old shots again, I thought about being outside for hours in New Orleans weather, sitting on wood benches. I remember during many of the games and concerts I saw in the Dome, thinking ‘Am I glad we’re inside instead of outdoors with the heat / humidity / torrential rain / wet cold / all of the above out there tonight.’

Rest in peace, Tom.

Remembering LaVerne Ripley

At Grandson Ronnie Ripley’s wedding (9 June 2007)

As is my pattern, I often begin with images, then find words to go along with them.

Becky’s mother died on March 14th. She was 88 and her mental and physical health had declined rapidly in recent months. Her passing was just when the Coronavirus pandemic was gaining traction. We immediately booked a flight to Green Bay and for the next week, tried to plan a proper Catholic mass and funeral during a week when public health directives were changing almost daily.

Plans changed and changed again, confounding arrangements and confusing LaVerne’s grieving husband. Good thing Becky, her siblings and an extremely competent and compassionate funeral home director were there to make the best of the situation.

Laverne Mae Ullman’s High School Graduation (1949)

When the family was looking for a picture of LaVerne for the obituary and Catholic prayer card, I suggested the one on top. The family chose a more recent shot…one that reflected her long life but also the recent challenges of her decline. I wanted one that showed her maturity but also the life and beauty she retained at age 75.

The New Mr. & Mrs. Emil Ripley (4 October 1950)

Emil and LaVerne did everything together. Married on Emil’s 20th birthday in 1950, it was easy to remember the date and what anniversary it was.

The Ripley’s are a working family. When it’s time to work, they work. When it’s time to rest, they work. LaVerne did more than raise nine kids. She sold World Book Encyclopedias. She was a teller at a bank. She was the Town Clerk. There was a period when the family bought old houses to fix and flip. She and Emil ran a tax prep business. She even had a local radio talk show for a while. So many people in the area knew them both.

Laverne was one of nine Ullman kids and she birthed nine of her own. Just as the spreading virus is described in exponential terms, the Ripley family grew as the nine produced twenty grandchildren and 14 great grandchildren. I can think of nothing LaVerne liked more than holding a baby.

Great Grandma and Eve (29 September 2010)

Four of the Ripley boys were basketball stars on the Pulaski HS team. Rod was All-State his senior year and, on the first day that college coaches were permitted to make recruiting visits, Indiana coaching legend Bobby Knight was in the Ripley home to put the moves on the family. LaVerne did her part by filling the home with the smells of fresh-baked goodies. Rod eventually chose to go to Madison and stay closer to home, but Coach Knight didn’t forget how well Mom treated him that day.

She was such an innocent soul. We still recall when she visited us in New Orleans during Mardi Gras in 1983. We took her to the French Quarter where some of the more outrageous costuming was on display. Whenever we recall that day, it often includes “Oh no!” and “Oh my God!” in our finest Wisconsin accents.

50th Anniversary / 70th Birthday (4 October 2000)

Any time we visited her home, the first thing she offered after a hug and welcome, was food.
“Mom, we had dinner on the road here. Mom, we just ate. I’m full, really.”
“How about a small plate then?”

She was THE Mother…in a traditional sense that we east coast, urban, 21st century Americans rarely see. She came up in rural and small-town Wisconsin. Priorities then were (and continued to be) faith, family and work. She was a product of her times. Expert in the domestic arts, but sometimes reserved and hesitant about things that were either new-fangled or in the man’s domain. I recall trying to get her to learn computing basics so she could get email with pictures of her large and far-flung family. She didn’t believe she could do it even as I reminded her of all the household machines she mastered. She grew up at a time when men did what men did and women (and the girls they raised) were confined to housework…and serving the men’s needs.

60th Anniversary / 80th Birthday (4 October 2010)

The funeral was planned for the Assumption BVM church in Pulaski…one of the biggest rural churches in the country. Upwards of 1000 visitors were expected. At the same time, the country began to contract. Gatherings were limited to fifty people and soon after, the number dropped to ten. The funeral home viewing had to be limited to family only and those numbers had to be scheduled in blocks of ten or fewer. The funeral mass was postponed and then finally set for Emil and LaVerne’s much smaller and intimate rural church, with only LaVerne’s husband of 69 years and eight of her children present. A camera was brought in to livestream the mass so others might view it online. The rest of us waited outside in the 29-degree cold, maintaining social-distancing between family units until the coffin was brought out to the graveyard across the street. Again, in keeping with the new crowd restrictions, dozens of cars encircled the cemetery where others paid their respects from a distance.

‘Thanksgiving’ (7 December 2019)

LaVerne, Emil and their nine children. All together for the last time. This day will always be remembered because she was declining rapidly by then. There were episodes where she did not know Emil and was afraid of “that man” in her room. But on this delayed holiday gathering, she was alert, engaged and so happy to be surrounded by her family, even if she didn’t know their names.

She was a great mother-in-law.

May she rest in peace.