Forecasting the Effects of Obesity and Smoking on U.S. Stewart, Ph.D., David M. Cutler, Ph.D., and Allison B. Wright Thompson on life, loss and renewal in New Orleans 1. Hurricane Katrina. Chapter IThe 1. 0- Year Flood. Editor's note: This story contains mature language. As part of the stories of the year collection, this piece is being resurfaced along with others in the coming days as ESPN Digital and Print Media closes out the year. Check out the full list here. With the air conditioner off for filming, the only noise in Steve Gleason's home is the breathing machine that keeps him alive. That's as good a place as any to start a Katrina story, with the wires and plugs and tubes strapped to the back of his wheelchair, a life- support apparatus doing the heavy lifting for one of the most fervently alive people the city has ever known. The city has known its share. The fifth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5), changed the termNew Orleans treasures hyperlocal folk heroes: Soulja Slim, the king of the street rappers before the storm, shot at least three times in the face and once in the chest, dead in his black Reeboks; Trombone Shorty, who closed out this year's Jazz Fest instead of Elton John or Lenny Kravitz; Chris Rose, the Pulitzer Prize- winning newspaper columnist who wrote the best stories about the storm until his life unraveled and he found himself waiting tables. Gleason is that kind of hero. In the team's first night back in the Superdome after the storm, he stretched out his arms and blocked a punt in the opening series of a Monday Night Football game. There is a 9- foot statue of him outside the Dome now, but the actual Steve Gleason is paralyzed, four years into an ALS diagnosis. Most people don't make it past five. Since he can no longer use the muscles in his mouth, he speaks through a computerized voice, his humanity blunted by a droning, syllable- centric machine. Research shows more than half of American children are dehydrated, and that dehydrated drivers make twice the amount of errors compared to hydrated drivers. Find patient medical information for THYME on WebMD including its uses, effectiveness, side effects and safety, interactions, user ratings and products that have it. How former royal Fergie's now calling herself Margaret York and trying to run a business empire from a hotel bar with a glass of Laurent Perrier ros Time of Implantation of the Conceptus and Loss of Pregnancy. Wilcox, M.D., Ph.D., Donna Day Baird, Ph.D., and Clarice R. Nothing works but his eyes. It's an ugly thing to watch someone fight a battle he cannot win. Living, then, is in the fighting. Everything is governed by this spirit of renewal, and everything is viewed through its lens, from the fervent love of brass bands to the New Orleans Saints, the standard- bearers of a city struggling back to its feet. But within this hopeful word an idea hides in plain sight: For something to be reborn, it must have first died. One afternoon in August, the mayor of New Orleans, Mitch Landrieu, meets me at an old seafood market reimagined after the storm as a high- end culinary destination. He tries to explain how 1. But we were in a near- death environment, so we didn't really have time to process it. We literally had to get out of harm's way so that we could stay alive. Then we immediately had to start rebuilding. And I'm not sure that a lot of us have had a chance to process it. You know, I find myself really getting choked up. Everyone's experience is both communal and personal, obvious and hidden. The memory of the death is everywhere, buried in shallow and temporary graves. Bitter Sweet: Do low calorie sweeteners help or hinder weight management and appetite control? William Reed Business Media. A diet to raise a glass to You can drink Champagne AND stay slim, according to this fizzy new weight loss plan. By Peta Bee for MailOnline Updated: 02:52. Shack Brown, youth football coach, fled New Orleans in the wake of Katrina - - then returned a year later to form a league in the projects. William Widmer for ESPNEACH SUMMER IN New Orleans has a soundtrack. In the blistering, rainy summer of 2. Boosie Badazz, formerly Lil Boosie, formerly prisoner No. Angola for a marijuana charge. New Orleans has the highest incarceration rate in Louisiana, which has the highest incarceration rate per capita in America, which has the highest incarceration rate in the developed world. Eighty- five percent of the inmates at Angola never get out. They take a one- way bus ride to an eastward bend in the river near the Louisiana- Mississippi line. Boosie is one of the lucky ones - - he made the trip back south - - and now this summer his anthems of Louisiana street life throb out the windows of speeding cars, the floating hint of a hook giving away the track, drowning in cardboard subwoofer fuzz, trunks and rearview mirrors. You hear the songs over and over again, like now in Shack Brown's pickup truck, headed out of town on Interstate 1. Brown is a youth football coach, driving to Jackson, Mississippi, to do a stand- up comedy gig, one of the many jobs that allow him to spend most of his time working with kids. He talks quietly with music in the background, until a remix of Boosie's . Brown turns up the stereo and sings. God keep blessing me 'cause I'm a good father .. Brown got his nickname because he grew before the other boys, then quit growing just after his friends started calling him Shack. He's about 6- foot- 1 - - and was as a seventh- grader. He's got a barrel chest and the gut of a man who never let his changing metabolism alter his love for fried food. His New Orleans East neighborhood smells like bread and coffee, from nearby factories. In the summer, the streets smell like crawfish. Over and over, he listens to . It is his armor and his weapon. Everything in the city rises on the ashes of something else, whether Shack Brown himself or the neighborhood where he was born. Before it was the Iberville, the streets between the French Quarter and what's now I- 1. Storyville, which the Navy insisted be closed in 1. The older men drink beer on the sidewalk a block away at Basin Super Market Seafood and Grill. Sometimes Shack visits old friends, but mostly he stays far away from the Iberville, or what's left of it. People in the projects respect Shack Brown because he survived the early '9. Iberville was at its worst. The cops in the nearby French Quarter ride horses, and Shack can still hear the pounding of hooves on concrete, like something from a dystopian Wild West movie. They followed purse snatchers back into the projects - - cops in shiny helmets brandishing sticks and guns, flying through the Iberville courtyards, the horses breathing heavy in the thick, wet air. He sold drugs and tasted that life - - $1. Angola or to a cemetery at the end of Canal Street. Mostly, he couldn't deal with the damage he saw himself causing, making a bad place worse instead of trying to make it better. He was a lousy drug dealer, letting people slide on credit, not cracking down on the addicts who couldn't pay. When he searched his past for men who'd done something positive, the only ones he remembered were coaches. They were respected, the lone alternative to the dealers. In New Orleans, especially, they are the front line in a fight to save just a few of the brightest young men in every generation. Shack started coaching, wanting to help kids but also hoping to feel good about his life, to wash clean the hurt he'd caused. So in the mid- 1. Blair Boutte, another former Iberville resident, who today runs the most successful bail bonds company in town. Now 3. 8, Brown works as many jobs as he can find, all while funding his youth teams. He lives on the margins; until the price of oysters went up, he set up his cooker rig and chargrilled them at parades all over town. Now a croker sack costs $4. During big events, like the Super Bowl, he drives a limo. He volunteers time and money for kids, spending his own cash on ice and water and mouthpieces. On game day, he cooks a meal for his players, who often arrive hungry. A po'boy here, a plate lunch there, feeding 9- year- olds, it adds up. For a year after Katrina he sat in Houston, going through the motions of a new life, his thoughts never far from the kids in the projects he used to coach. They got so close, the boys latching on to any male influence they could find, and now that he was displaced, he found that he needed them too. He came back to New Orleans in August 2. Superdome reopened, coaching in Mid- City, working on setting up at a place closer to the Iberville. Three years later, on July 1. Lemann Playground, the only public green space between the Iberville and the Lafitte projects, both occupying the gray blocks northwest of the French Quarter. On the day the league officially began, a drill team of neighborhood kids he'd trained led a procession through the gates into Lemann. The adults released balloons. Across four age groups, 1. Brown says. That was six years ago. Now the Lafitte projects have been torn down, replaced by mixed- income housing. The Iberville is almost gone, the last of the city's projects. He remembers the hope of opening Lemann Playground. On that sunny day in 2. Katrina's receding waters. THE NEXT MORNING, Shack drives back toward New Orleans. His comedy gig went well. Halfway home, he passes the exit to Gillsburg, Mississippi, right on the state line, where the plane chartered by Lynyrd Skynyrd crashed in 1. I start to tell the story, but after getting a blank look, I ask Shack if he's ever heard of the band. We laugh, because there are only 4 miles between the mostly wealthy, mostly white Uptown neighborhood where I rented a house, where everyone has heard of Skynyrd, and the mostly poor, mostly black neighborhood where he grew up. Those 4 miles might as well be an ocean. He's flipping through the radio stations. A fellow comedian named Blowfish is crashed out in the back, wheezing and snoring. The highway is a drone, and 1. Shack gets quiet. The old projects stood strong. The storm didn't knock out the water or the gas, so his mom cooked Monday night as Katrina hit Louisiana. She made turkey necks and gravy, rice and peas. That's what they ate through Tuesday, watching the water rise, first above the parked cars, then above the street signs. On Wednesday, the project's running water went off and Shack's mom told everyone it was time to leave. The streets were flooded, and all 1. The sun hammered down, over 1. Shack found the mules of Mid- City Carriages still tied to a fence. That's how they tried to get people through the water at first, riding on top of the stolen mules. The mules hated the water and mules don't do anything they don't want to do, so Shack tied them back up. His family walked to the Orleans Avenue exit, rising steeply up to I- 1. They walked a mile and a half the wrong way down the interstate, his grandmother stopping often to catch her breath. The inside of the Superdome smelled like feces, and he held his 4- year- old daughter in his arms so she could go to the bathroom.
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