The Hare of the Dog

So we were having a nice day by the pool. Mia the dog was lounging without a care in the world. And dad brought out some bunnies for my niece to play with. One bunny got out. In short, there was a loud squeal and Mia appeared with you-know-what in her mouth. I screamed, bunny fell, Mia looked confused yet unphased as if to say (you know i chase squirrels around all day). In the end, the bunny was buried in the yard. I thought I was going to throw up. I couldn't even eat my halved avocado. Granted, Mia spent her entire puppy life at a hunting camp, but I thought she was past that. Apparently she will never get past it. I was so nauseated from the whole thing. And everyone was freaking out too, but about .4 seconds after it happened, discussion started up about grilling for Memorial Day and BLT sandwiches. Wait, hold that thought.

This reminded me of a zoo panda I read about once. I had read about some huge event a zoo was having to help save a panda, and everyone was standing around, so excited about the zoo's efforts to save the panda or to build it a nicer home or something, and the zoo was selling hot dogs named after the panda.* Do we love the panda and the bunny, but we are so far removed from the processing of the meat that we do choose to eat that the actual process of the processed food doesn't phase us. I've been rolling this around in my head for hours now.

However you feel about all of it -- sometimes we are just given a live dose of the food chain and it ain't pretty. Since I'm always dabbling with vegetarianism and reading literature about it and the benefits of predominately plant-based diets, this little scene reminded me that for whatever reason, it's easy to not think about our food, and some of us live our whole lives blissfully unaware of where anything we eat comes from and how it got so neatly packaged, if it's safe and was it at least treated and killed humanely. (Or, avoiding it all together). We're so far removed from the process of how all food comes to our plates, that we can talk about BLTs while we cry over a bunny.  Just something to think about.

(* I think I read about it in a book called Eating Animals)

Well, that was awkward

And I thought Y2K was the hoax of the century!

Harold Camping's Rapture came... and went.  Anticlimactic, to say the least. It kind of reminded me of Y2K. We should at least seen that one coming - oh wait, but everybody was partying like it was 1999, so for the 1% of the population who remembers what happened that night, cheers to you. Has anyone identified who the conspirators were in that one? I know my computer didn't crash. Somebody had people shell out probably millions of dollars in new "software" and then, in all our celebrated stupors at 12:01 on January, 2000, (we waited for it)... nothing!

Harold Camping's camp did profit from the impending doom, and I hope at least some of his followers who dropped out of school, quit jobs and gave over loads of money do make an effort to go back to their regular ho-hum, rapture-less lives. I mean, that's what the rest of us are doing, anyways. And if Y2K was mostly a conspiracy (I always side with the conspiracy side of things), then let me just say it, they were both huge let downs. Huge. That being said, I will admit it: My first thought after someone reminded me of the May 21, 2011 doomsday prediction was, "I'm too busy for the world to end!" Come on, you know you thought it too.  Maybe this will at least remind me to stop and smell the impending deadlines. Oh wait, I meant to say, stop and smell how beautiful life can be.

"If we wait til the time that all souls get it right, then at least I know there'll be no nuclear annihilation in my lifetime I'm still not right."
-Indigo Girls, Galileo

All Hail, The Louisiana Sunsets

In 2003 and 2004, I took two Fiction Workshop writing courses at Vanderbilt, which were required for my English Creative Writing Major. My story - whose plot I no longer remember as it has been lost in PC wasteland - included a scene on a lake in Louisiana. I was writing about someone watching the sun go down behind the plants (industrial, that is). Everyone in the class thought it was so strange; "what's going on with the industrial plants in the way of a sunset? Mass confusion amongst the other, non-Louisianian students.

My professor, Tony Earley, an inspiring author and professor, spoke up, and I remember that he said something to the effect of, "you have to understand that this is what a sunset view is for most Louisianians; the industry has massively affected their view. This is exactly on point for Louisiana," And so it was. And so the sunsets say it all about Louisiana, the coast, the industry, the way the sun falls, the way that soon no living being will no any other coastline than what we've got. Maybe it's ugly, but also, it's just a part of the state we have to accept and learn to know that it is part of something greater that we love.

"A good side, a bad side, a past, a future. ... we must embrace both in someone we love. And I tried." -from The Tourist.

Who Picked The Crawfish?

Nine out of 10 people, no, 10 out of 10 people, including my own relatives and best friends look at me with absolute confusion when I tell them that a large majority of my client base is crawfish farmers. And it's Louisianians asking the questions. To the casual person who asks me, "How's work?" and gets the response from me, "This year has been insanely busy; crawfish season is my busiest time," I usually see them tilt their head to the side and look at me like I just grew antlers. "Wait, what? I thought you did immigration law?"

Because most crawfish farms can't find enough U.S. workers to sustain the workforce they need for flooding fields, mending traps, placing traps, baiting, trapping, harvesting and sacking the crawfish, most of that work is done by temporary workers who enter the U.S. on temporary agricultural visas for 10 months each year. Due to the economic situations in Mexico, Central and South America, most send money home and then only see their spouses and children for their two months off. It's better to work in the U.S. than anywhere else, it seems.

Crawfishing isn't really Louisiana work at all, or at least not entirely. And nobody seems to know this. I certainly grew up not knowing anything about the industry, and it wasn't until I found my interest in immigration law that I was clued in, and I must be in the minority. I'm not even sure other attorneys know what I'm doing over here in my little office. So, I'm here to give you the information. Besides, now you'll know that most guys you see in or around crawfish fields are sustaining the industry we love so dearly. And, it doesn't really matter how anybody feels about it, because it's the nature of the beast, the nature of the migrant and seasonal dirty work. So, when you do eat crawfish, it's a lot bigger than just Louisiana cuisine, it's a multi-country, legal paperwork-full, working sacrifice that brings it to your -- mmmmm -- mouth.

Happy Crawfish Season to all and to all a good mayonnaise/ketchup sauce to dip them in.