Andrea S. James

Category: Mobile, Alabama

  • Pop the cork, spritz the pricey perfume, today is special

    A home along the Mississippi Gulf Coast. The sign says, "Do not allow Katrina to steal your joy." (Photo by Andrea James | September 2005)
    A home along the Mississippi Gulf Coast. The sign says, "Do not allow Katrina to steal your joy." (Photo by Andrea James | September 2005)

    I’ve been meaning to write a post about how every day is a special occasion. But every time I begin, I think, what kind of cliche piece of advice is that? Everyone knows that from reading Hallmark “just because” cards.

    And yet, I have to remind myself of that often.

    In the past, whenever someone gave me perfume or a sweet smelling lotion, I would save it. By the time I was 23, I had amassed a solid collection of lotions and soaps and bubble bath and bath beads and relaxation oils — you’d think that I was obsessed with indulging myself amid the scent of rose and lavender.

    And I think that friends and family must have seen my collection and thought, “Wow, she loves Bath & Body Works,” thus creating a multiplier effect on gift occasions.

    Once, while helping me to move, my brother-in-law exclaimed, “You and all your bottles!”

    At the time, I couldn’t bear to part with even one bottle. I was storing these away for a special occasion. This went on for years.

    Then my wedding day came and went. I think I used one of the lotions. Once.

    I gave away my collection shortly after.

    This upcoming Sunday marks the five-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina.

    I wonder if my newfound penchant for giving things away, and not holding onto too many posessions, comes in part from having lived on the Gulf Coast during the storm. (See my recount in the aftermath, here.)

    During that time, I volunteered to help families clean out after their homes flooded. Beloved possessions became soggy stinking junk.  Items that may have been saved to honor a special occasion instead became chores — stuff had to be picked up, salvaged or discarded.

    It seemed like an enormous and endless task.

    I’m eager to read some of the Hurricane Katrina look backs and the where-are-we-now pieces.  Particularly from those who have a connection to the Gulf Coast.

    As for how to mark this special-tragic-occasion? I will try to remember that there’s never a better time than now to drink the good wine.

    More photos below the jump. Click any photo to enlarge it:

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  • Goodbye e-mail to Mobile newsroom

    This is the e-mail that I wrote to my newsroom to say goodbye.

    From: James, Andrea
    Sent: Friday, August 25, 2006 4:16 PM
    To: *Newsroom Group;
    Subject: That lucky old sun

    Hey guys,
     
    Thank you so much for the past year and a half.
     
    I’ve had the time of my life in Mobile and it’s been an honor to work with all of you.
     
    (For anyone who isn’t plugged into the Register rumor mill: I heard Steve Myers was coming back to town so I took a job as far away as possible. Barring any hurricanes that mess up my flight plans, I will start as a business reporter at the Seattle Post-Intelligencer on Sept. 19.)
     
    This is a great newspaper full of competent people. We miss that sometimes in the day-to-day shuffle — but you are truly working for one of the best newspapers in the South and the most aggressive newspaper in the state. It informs and unites South Alabama, a growing vibrant community on the beautiful Gulf Coast. People here read their newspaper. In many towns, that isn’t the case.
     
    It’s been a privilege to work here and be a part of that.
     
    Also, I just hope you realize what a special and unique part of the world you live in. The geography and the mix of Alabama, Southern, Gulf Coast and beach cultures all blend to produce the quirky city that is Mobile.
     
    I once wrote home to my family in New Jersey, “The trees are bigger. The talk is slower. The weather is hotter. The food is spicier. These things combine, I think, to make the people more eccentric.” — Nowhere is that more true than in this newsroom. (We all know who I’m talking about.) And I’ve loved every bit of it!

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  • The other, other Washington

    Friends,

    I’ll just put the lead at the front, so if you read no further, you’ll know this much:

    At the end of the month, I will move to Seattle, Washington.

    Today is my 25th birthday, and it is bittersweet. I’m a bit overwhelmed, but in a very good way after a whirlwind week in the Pacific Northwest.

    The Seattle Post-Intelligencer, the oldest daily newspaper in that city, flew me to town to interview for a business reporting position.

    I left Mobile last Saturday with a packed suitcase and a head full of story ideas for those editors. I returned today with a job offer, a signed lease on a Seattle apartment and no liquids in my carry-on.

    Before the interview, the paper put me up in a $300 per night Marriott hotel on Lake Union, gave me a rental car and said, “explore.”

    I did.

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  • Catastrophe

    My alma-mater posted this to its Web site following Hurricane Katrina:

    Medill School of Journalism – Northwestern University:
    Medill Alum Documents Katrina Aftermath in Mobile, Ala.

    Story by Andrea James, MSJ05

    Andrea James is currently working as a business reporter at the Mobile Register in Mobile, Ala. This commentary is excerpted from an E-mail she sent to friends and family after the hurricane.

    watereverywhere Hello from the Gulf Coast. Life down here, as we knew it, has changed, and for many it has been destroyed.

    The destruction and chaos down here is worse than anything I’ve ever seen, and I was in D.C. on Sept. 11, 2001.

    I have so much to tell all of you. I’m sorry for not staying in better touch. It’s been difficult, and I’ve been using the remaining juice in my cell phone battery to talk to family.

    Let me start from the beginning.

    Last Friday was a normally gorgeous day in Mobile. Hurricane Katrina was supposed to cross Florida and hit Florida again in the panhandle. I flew to California for a friend’s wedding and had a blast.

    By mid-day Saturday, the projected path, size and strength of the storm had changed, and things weren’t looking good. I caught a midnight flight back to Mobile, and got in just before the airport closed. I went to church and we prayed, and then we all went home to prepare for the storm.

    But it wasn’t enough time.

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  • Big wheels keep on turning

    A cell phone rang — the jingle was the tune to Lynard Skynard’s Sweet Home Alabama.

    In the ladies room, I heard one woman tell another, “Dang! It’s cold as a truck stop in here! Ain’t they got no heat in here?”

    And I thought, “What in the world am I doing?”

    It was February, and I was in the Atlanta airport, waiting for my connecting flight to Mobile, Ala., where I would interview for a job.

    There’s a part of me that panics when I get too far from a major city. Having grown up just a bike’s ride from the Monmouth Bay, which overlooks the New York skyline, I’ve never lived outside of the shadow of a global city.

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