A Place Called Desire

"the community that care forgot"

By

A Different Kind of Summer

​​​     by Winnifred Walter Anderson-Magee

Spending time in Bassano this summer couldn’t be any more different from my childhood in Desire, especially summers. Here, in Bassano, it is so tranquil that you feel as though you are in a dream from which you don’t want to awaken.  The sightings of people are so rare, unless you are in the center of the town where the locals go to the grocery market and to purchase the mineral water. Sounds of life are so fleeting. Maybe there is a voice in the distance, or music coming from one of the apartments.

​Growing up in Desire there were always sights and sounds. In the summertime, the children started to play very early. The truck vendors began to arrive in time enough for the mothers to purchase and to cook the produce.  The watermelon man came to deliver the delicious, juicy fruit early in order to chill it for afternoon consumption, usually on the bottom level of the steps.

Saturday mornings were usually reserved for shopping and cleaning. Most families had enough children to divide up the chores and to allow the little ones to go out to play.  Rather than have them underfoot, dirtying the already cleaned areas, or knocking over buckets of soapy water, or even worse, tracking the waxed floors, kids were allowed to start off the Saturday mornings early with some popular games. 

Rock Teacher, played on the steps of the porch, was a preferred safe game that could be played without the assistance of older siblings. Rock, Paper, Scissors is a popular game among children today. It was practically unheard of when we were children. Rock Teacher, the game of choice for younger children, allowed them to have hours of fun without having to spend any money, or leave the safe place of the porch.

In the game, the teacher held the rock behind her back, moved it around and then presented both fisted-hands to the students, who then had to guess which hand the rock was in. If the guess was correct, the student was given permission to move down the steps. Moving down the steps would mean that you were being sent to a higher grade. Eventually, the person in the highest grade would become the teacher. Needless to say, there were some unhappy students who were left behind due to their inability to guess the correct hand.

There was always something to do in our neighborhood. The trucks delivering goods even provided a sense of play. First of all, there was the challenge to run to announce that the trucks were coming. Then, there was the excitement of choosing fruit from the trucks. In addition, we couldn’t wait to see what vegetable on the truck would become our dinner on Sunday afternoons. Many of the families were at the mercy of the truck vendors, because of the lack of transportation, too many children to take on public transportation, or too many to be left at home on their own.

But the best part of all, for me, was when the watermelon vendor passed by to sell this succulent gourd. It was always a big seller, unless ,when the merchant passed by when funds for families were scarce and thin. If that were the case, then my mom would yell back and say, “eat it yourself.”  Even when we could not afford one, it was always fun to hear the merchant sing his melodious advertisement, “watermelon, red to the rind.”

​Growing up in Desire afforded me many playmates, many of whom have become my lifelong friends, as well as surrogate brothers and sisters. Class reunions and even funerals are celebratory and reminiscing opportunities. The experiences we shared formed unbreakable bonds that are never to be broken. 

Now, back to Bassano, Italy.  It appears to be a place with a small population, unlike the Desire community during my childhood. It also seems to be a place that has not changed much in a long time. It was great that there were for sale signs and signs of rebuilding. I feel like the older people who are there have lived there for most of their lives. It is highly likely that their bonds are just as strong as those nurtured in Desire. And, their brick and mortar homes are constantly being reinforced and not torn down. 

By

A Street Called Desire

And Other Street Names in My Neighborhood

As I matured and traveled about, I paid attention to the names of streets. I like to learn, observe, and absorb my surroundings. Part of that, for me, is learning the names of streets. Though convenient, using the GPS Global Positioning System makes the brain lazy. Consequently, I still study the names of streets. And in doing so, I have happily concluded that there are the same and similar names in many cities and other states. Courts, drives, driveways, parkways, and avenues within a neighborhood or metropolitan area have the same names. This is so fascinating to me. In the summer of 2022, while traveling in Paris with my middle son, Damion, and his family, I observed many names of streets, alleyways, neighborhoods, and subway stops. I wanted to learn as much as I could about this famous city. To my delight, but not surprisingly, there were many names with which I was pretty familiar. I’ve always known of the cultural and historical connection of Paris, France, and my home city, New Orleans. Seeing it with my own eyes was totally different.

A Street Called Desire and Other Names in My Neighborhood

I have always been in love with words and names. It became a pastime that was limitless and didn’t cost anything. This affection started many years ago, probably when I was learning to read. As my brothers, sisters, and I began walking to the grocery store, visiting our friends, and traveling outside the courtyard, it was a necessity. The layout and design of many of the courtyards were very similar, if not identical. To return home from a walk in the neighborhood or a bus ride outside our vast community, I had to learn to read and identify the street signs. Honestly, street sign reading became an obsession.

The street names in the new development located on what was once the Desire Housing Development are appropriately named after people who poured their lives into the advancement and quality of life of the residents of the Desire area. I will not try to call any because I do not know many of them. To walk through those streets, however, you will be given a history of the people who poured out their lives for the progress of Desire. The most notable name in the area is actually one that involved the renaming of Louisa St. The name is that of a very deserving son of Desire, Johnny Jackson, Jr. Many of us witnessed as well as benefitted from his many contributions to the Desire Community, the city of New Orleans, and the entire state of Louisiana. I am proud to have been privy to the many. Mr. Jackson’s contributions and advancements to Desire and the many others.

The names of the previous streets were street names from the surrounding area that were just extended to the development. Fortunately, the street names are more relatable and traceable for the residents of the current development. We grew up reading names like Piety, Pleasure, Benefit, Abundance, Alvar, Higgins, Industry, Pauline, and Desire. These names only sometimes coincide with the life conditions of the residents after opportunities afforded by racial integration are revealed. I was shocked to see my home in one of the textbooks in my freshman sociology class at Tulane University. It was quite eye-opening. But as a deep-thinking teenager, I had begun to think of them as misnomers. I tried to reconcile them with the situations many of us lived in. Some days became more difficult than others.

Desire community

My mother lived at 3411 Pleasure St., apartment B. And, as a child, I enjoyed the pleasures of Desire: pralines, frozen cups, constant camaraderie, and neighbors who loved me like family. Often, I would walk to the project office to pay our rent. This was a learning experience for me because I learned without being directly taught that my mother’s rent was based on her income. Everyone didn’t pay the same to live in a three-bedroom apartment. In the course of this transaction, I encountered the residents of Benefit St. I started connecting the dots, so to speak. The street was Benefit, so some benefits and advantages had to be. I began to realize the benefits of being raised in a community with large numbers of people in such close proximity. The people themselves possessed such gifts and talents. There were resources one might have needed to have had within reach had there not been so many human capabilities. Truly, we had the Benefit of a loving, nurturing neighborhood with countless examples of positive role models.

Abundance was one of the streets in our development. I liked it so much for many reasons. Because I lived in what was considered the back of Desire, the street, Abundance, always intrigued me. I only walked past it when the bus was delayed. It was about a mile walk from my house. During the walk, I encountered many activities and people with whom I would only interact occasionally. It was like traveling to another city. My aunt and cousins lived on Alvar St., near Abundance. That was another source of intrigue for me. Abundance St. was a section that appeared to accommodate large families with four-bedroom apartments. There was certainly an abundance of children in that area. It was filled with so much activity, endless energy, and loud sounds. Yes, Abundance, it certainly was!

The names of our streets represented a number of different things to us. After many years, it became apparent that there were some systemic issues in the area that the street names defied. But, honestly, they embodied the very essence of the heart of the community in which I lived. Years of neglect changed the narrative for some. But the meaning of the word, Desire, conjures up the thoughts, perspectives, ambitions, and visions of the residents of the entire Desire community. Their Desire to achieve led to actions that resonated around the world. I will never forget my life in Desire and the experiences that the streets of Pleasure, Benefit, Abundance, Piety, and Desire taught me.

Winnifred Magee

By

Summer Fun: An Essay for A Place Called Desire

It is hard, as well as unfair, to stereotype, or form generalities, concerning the summers of  families in the Desire area. Because the Desire Housing Development was an unusually large housing complex, surrounded by many single family homes, it housed various family types. Consequently,  summers were as varied as the types of families occupying the area. My family, for example, was headed by a single mother which meant she had to work all summer.

the Anderson clan
Deborah Walter-Anderson, Winnifred Walter-Anderson, and Torea Walter-Anderson

Our summers were not determined by what she planned, exactly. They went according to the opportunities that were afforded us.  My grandmother’s house in south Baton Rouge was one of the opportunities Mama’s budget allowed for.  My grandmother was always willing to help my mother with her children. She had a small house, but a great big heart. She loved her grandchildren with all of her heart. We only stayed there for a couple of weeks. And sometimes she would come to New Orleans and babysit us. She baked the best tea cakes. We were always willing to share our tea cakes with our friends. But visiting Big Mama was way better than her visiting us. We were able to see our entire family when we vacationed in Baton Rouge. There was nothing better than hanging out with my cousins and visiting my aunts and uncles.

Visits from cousins was another preoccupation during the summer months. Whenever anyone or any family had cousins from out of town or from just uptown, it was an exciting time. A different face, walk, talk, or laugh was extremely fascinating. The teens in the neighborhood had a new summer crush. The new person represented someone to impress, fall in love with or envy. All emotions were heightened during the summer with the influx of new faces. My cousins did not disappoint. They were pretty. They were handsome. They were funny and quirky, or at least that’s how they appeared to my Desire friends. And they were just as eager to fall in love with my friends. Summers were indeed a blast because of their visits. This was also a time to show off our neighborhood games. These games were played all over the city but, of course, every neighborhood and in some cases, courtyards changed the rules of the games.  These games included such games as, Jacks, Chicago In, Fly In, Cool Can, Horse Shoes, Marbles, (Ice) Pick, Hop Scotch and Jump Rope, just to name a few. We spent hours playing these low budget games. They were all inclusive. There was no age, height or gender requirement, or limit. Specific skill sets were not required. Personal preferences were always a deciding factor in the formation of teams, but played a minimal role in the overall playing of the games.

There were some fortunate families in Desire who were able to travel out of town. It goes without saying that these families were fortunate enough to have two-parent homes; their father worked, and they usually owned a car. Throughout the United States, especially in the South, Blacks were restricted in their travel by racist laws and practices. This impacted summer travel plans even for families who could afford to travel. Other children were able to attend camps sponsored by organizations such as Boys and Girls Scouts, and religious organizations. There were neighborhood sports teams that entertained the community several days a week. These included girl’s softball and sandlot sports. My sister, Deborah, was a dynamic softball player.

Finally, the schools offered children some form of support during the long summer months. Summers were used for academic remediation and enrichment. Conscientious teachers thought it important to send home supplemental materials (usually discarded or outdated books.)  Many parents could not afford products that would assist their students in school or to insure that previously learned information and skills would not be lost. So many families were blessed by teachers who were forward thinkers. Summer was not just a time for playing but also for continued learning.

Winnifred A. Magee

By

BEG, BORROW, BUT DON’T STEAL!

Many families in the Desire Housing Project had large numbers of children. The largest apartment consisted of four bedrooms, one bathroom, one kitchen and one living room. Many families slept two, or more to a room. It was not unheard of for kids to sleep two or three in one bed. That’s just the way it was. There was no teasing or gossiping about people’s sleeping arrangements. It was the norm for us.

Another thing that was normal was borrowing. There was no company supplying loans until the next payday. There were few food banks. There were no, or few food vouchers issued by the government. However, there was the next door neighbor. Or the downstairs neighbor. Or, if necessary, the neighbor across the driveway. Because, inevitably, there would be a shortage. Sometimes, there was too much week left at the end of the money. The groceries purchased from the nearby Schwegmann’s had just run out.

kitchen flour sugar

Usually, it was the rice, sugar, flour, or even grits. I guess those were staples in the homes of families with five, or more, children. Those were items that would stretch meals and make mundane meals taste a lot better. Very few families were immune from the inevitable, perpetual shortage of some staple. Even though there were many trips to the corner grocery store in between weekly shopping, sometimes there was just not enough money to purchase food, or credit to be extended to buy them.

Neighbor privilege was a necessity. Grace was always available somewhere. Generosity ruled the hearts of many in our neighborhood, courtyards, and driveways. Some households were more fortunate than others, having two incomes, or maybe staggered pay periods. Whatever the source of the availability, someone had something to share.

Many nights while watching our favorite television program, we were disturbed by a knock on the door by one of the kids from a family needing to complete a meal with something from a neighbor’s pantry. Or there were those days when we wanted to bake a cake and my brother had used the last of the margarine! How could we finish dessert without it? No worries! Someone would save the day! It never failed!

Maybe it’s time to say, ‘ thank you,’ to the neighbors who cared enough about other children to give out of their hearts, their cupboards, and their purses to make sure children did not go hungry. They taught us valuable lessons that stuck with us through a lifetime. It gave us so much reassurance that someone cared about us. That , even though we had to, in the words of some, ‘beg and borrow,’ we did not have to steal to eat.

Winnifred  Magee