Way Down South in Dixie

I'm from the American south, so I guess it's not too surprising that I would have a certain amount of nostalgia for the region. I love the Florida swamps, the fried okra served in diners in the Carolinas, the crumbling elegance of New Orleans. Now that I live in a desert I find myself yearning not for heat but for humidity.

I don't spend much time thinking about it, but occasionally some uniquely southern item will catch my eye. When we stumbled upon the sheet music for Pick Me Up and Lay Me Down in Dear Old Dixieland we couldn't leave without it. The artwork is just so evocative of what I think of as The South.

That said, the south, and the phrase "Dixie", certainly have a dark side. I was taught the song I Wish I was in Dixie as a small child. It seemed perfectly innocent. It was only later that I learned that some people consider it offensive.

I always assumed that the term Dixie stemmed from the Mason-Dixon line, that is, the border between Maryland and Pennsylvania which for most intents divided the free states from the slave states. This may be true, but there is another possibility: it may refer to the ten dollar notes issued by private banks in Louisiana. These notes were stamped "dix", meaning "ten" in French, and were called "Dixies" by English speakers. Thus, the area around New Orleans especially, and the south in general, came to be known as "Dixie Land" during the 1800s.

A third possibility is a bit more sinister. Apparently there was a Mr. Dixy living on Manhattan Island who owned slaves until it was made illegal there in 1827. He was said to be kind, and so the term "Dixy's land" referred to a comfortable place in which to be a slave. I can't help but find this to be an incredibly tragic notion.

The song I Wish I was in Dixie is similarly shrouded in mystery. It was supposedly written by Daniel Emmet, a Northerner. But he may have heard it from the Snowden family, a group of African American musicians. The lyrics seem to actually have been penned by Evelyn Snowden in a letter to her father about how much she missed the south. All that is known for sure is that Emmet preformed the song with his blackface minstrel show in New York City in 1859. It became such a hit that the Confederate states used it as their unofficial anthem during the Civil War. Abraham Lincoln even ordered it played by upon learning of the Confederate surrender.

Of course, I knew none of this when I sang the song as a girl. I just thought it was about being proud of the place you grew up. Now that I'm older I know that blind pride in one's heritage is not a virtue, and that to truly appreciate a place you need to look past your nostalgia.

Wordless Wednesday featuring Coco

It's an Emergency! Let's Panic!

Sometimes, working at a private zoo can be odd. The fact that the zoo is private means that there is a large house on the grounds. And in that house live people. Some of those people have pets.

And where zoo keeping and pet wrangling meet, communication trouble is sure to follow...

Take today for instance. I was calmly cleaning the squirrel monkey enclosure when I received an urgent message. Come quick, it said. One of the dogs is in trouble! Hurry, she needs to get to the vet right away! So of course I dropped everything and ran, clomping over the marble entry in my steel-toed rubber boots. The emergency? The pup is very fluffy and she had failed to adequately clean herself after her last trip outdoors. That's right, she had a poopy butt. The problem was quickly resolved with some wet paper towels. Okay, I'll admit that I had to use a pair of scissors too, but what she definitely didn't need was a trip to the vet.

But it made me think: lots of folks really don't know what constitutes an animal emergency. So here, for the canine good, is a list of things that really do require a trip to the doctor (as enumerated on about.com).

• Blue, white or very pale gums
• Labored breathing
• Collapse or loss of consciousness
• Dizziness, imbalance, or circling
• Inability to walk
• Extremely bloated abdomen
• Seizures
• Signs of acute severe pain (such as crying out very loudly and excessively)
• Body temperature over 104 or under 99 (normal is typically 100.5-102.5)

Of course there are many other reasons to consult a vet too, like vomiting that lasts for more than a day or two, lumps, wounds, snake bites, etc. Knowing your dog is key. If she is acting "off" it may be time to visit the doctor. But please, take it from an animal care professional. A dirty dog is not an emergency.

That said, my dog Camila would like me to add one more thing to the list. Apparently being forced to wear cute/comical headgear also constitutes a dog emergency. Treat it immediately with a dog cookie and a belly rub.

Wordless Wednesday featuring Camila and Gabriel (New Years Edition)

Wordless Wednesday featuring Franz (Christmas Edition)

Live! At Largo at the Coronet!

Ah, Largo. Owned and booked by just one man, its very independence gives it the right to be a bit eccentric. One might even call the ticket procuring process byzantine. Even so, after attending two performances there last week I have to give it a grudging thumbs up over venues like the Wilturn operated by Live Nation or some other mega-conglomerate. My reasoning? Access!

I never did brave Largo when it was at its tiny former location on Fairfax Avenue. I wasn't dedicated enough to get in. But now, in the quaint old Coronet Theater, Largo seats 250 people. Better yet, it doesn't matter who you are. We showed up early to get our tickets the night of Aimee Mann's Christmas Show, and guess what? Fourth row center. For all I know Ben Stiller might have been there with Oprah Whinfrey. I wouldn't know, since they would have been seated far behind us if they had shown up later. It truly seems to be first come, first serve. This was borne out later in the week when we returned to see genial comedian Paul F. Tompkin's show. This time the folks behind us were talking loudly about the various T.V. shows they appeared on. A zoo keeper given better seats than industry insiders? At Largo it seems possible.

It was a happy day for the Coronet Theater when Largo owner Mark Flanagan took an interest in it. Without his intervention it would have been demolished and turned into an Urban Outfitters, another chunk of Los Angeles history preserved only in photos. The fact that it was saved seems important to me. As the photo at the right shows, Bertold Brecht and Charles Laughton rehearsed here in 1947. The small bar next door, now incorporated into the Largo courtyard, was once the original Troubadour where Woody Guthrie used to play.

In its day, the Coronet was apparently quite grand. Works by Picasso and Chagall lined the walls. Legend has it that Igor Stravinsky helped paint the lobby. Eugene O'neill, Jimmy Stewart, and Charlie Chaplin attended performances. The photo at the left shows Chaplin with his fourth wife Oona.

I wonder if they're sitting in our seats?

Wordless Wednesday featuring Franz (2nd Edition)