Dave Halsey, 24, at Barber’s Electric Tattooing in Cincinnati, Ohio. Photo by Lauren Purkey

After deciding not to return to art school, Dave Halsey, 24, completed a traditional American two-year apprenticeship. Now, with three years of experience under his sleeve, he tattoos at Barber’s Electric Tattooing in Cincinnati, but still appreciates the basics art school equipped him with.

Q: When did you decide to learn to tattoo?

A: I decided to learn how to tattoo after I ended up getting pretty covered in them. I had dropped out of art school and was working at Dewey’s…and I just really didn’t want to toss pizzas for the rest of my life, you know? I’ve always been intrigued by the mystique and aura of a seedy tattoo shop and the lifestyle of tattooers. There was always something dangerous and adventurous about it.

Q: How does a person become a tattoo artist? What kind of training did you go through?

A: There are a lot of ways to become a tattooer. It really depends on what you want from it, I suppose. Some people teach themselves; some go through proper apprenticeships; and for some I guess you could say it just falls in their laps. I went through a traditional American apprenticeship, which is an apprenticeship under a mentor tattooer for one to three years. I became an apprentice by getting tattooed a lot by the person who I wanted to mentor me. Learning things about the shop, drawing a lot and painting, answering phones, all that — kind of like an internship. Eventually, I just started getting covered in tattoos and expressing my interest in the trade. He eventually took me on as his apprentice and through a lot of struggles, and ups and downs…Well, here I am today.

Transparent water color ink is used on paper to color in tattoo designs. Photo by Lauren Purkey.

At the time, I thought it was the worst thing ever, but now I’m so thankful for what I went though, because not only did I learn how to tattoo as a career, it taught me a lot about life and how to be a good person in this industry as well.

Q: What other kinds of mentors do you have?

A: I have a lot of mentors in the vast industry of tattooing and a lot of them don’t even know they are. You kind of never stop apprenticing, you know? There is always room for improvement and there’s always someone better than you. You can learn a lot from everyone. Sometimes it might be what not to do, but there’s still something to gain from that experience. I work with some of my mentors every day, and some have been dead for 80 years or something. Some of them I have met and some of them I just watch from afar. I really am privileged to have the resources young tattooers have today. I’m constantly learning.

Q: When were you able to tattoo on your own? How does the person you’re apprenticing under decide that you’re ready?

A: You kind of decide for yourself when you’re ready to be done. You have to balance keeping the shop clean, making tattoos and art, as well as pleasing the tattooers at the shop by giving them an extra hand without having to be asked to do it. Drive, discipline and initiative have a lot to do with it.

Q: What was your first experience tattooing like?

A: My first experience tattooing was pretty hectic. It was on one of my good friends and mentors so I knew I had to do a good job. My hands were shaking and my palms were sweating — and so was everything else. It was just all around a scary experience. I didn’t end up doing a very good job but it got the ball rolling for me.

Q: When did you first becoming comfortable tattooing on your own? When did you begin to feel like you had your own style and how did that develop?

Halsey uses his tattoo machine to tattoo a customer. Photo by Lauren Purkey.

A: I would say I kind of still don’t feel completely comfortable with it, you know? I always have so many questions when it comes to things I don’t understand. It’s not that I couldn’t do it, but it never hurts to get a second opinion. I started developing my own style kind of early in my tattoo career. I just mimicked the style of a lot of old timers until I felt like I had a pretty rough grasp of what was going on and then just started putting my own spin on things. In art, as well as all things, it’s impossible to be completely original. You always end up learning something subconsciously from something you’ve seen before by keeping other tattooers’ art in the back of your mind. You just end up applying similar aspects to your own tattoos and artwork. I would say a tattooer’s style is more in the execution and application than anything else. Other than that I would say there’s no use trying to reinvent the wheel. Things work because they work, you know?

Q: When did you decide you wanted to tattoo for a living? Was it a difficult decision?

A: It was never really a question for me. Since I graduated my apprenticeship, my goal has always been to tattoo until I physically can’t anymore. I love this industry and it’s only second to my family. I could never let this gift go.

Q: So you went to art school. Did you finish?

A: [Laughs] I absolutely did not finish art school. I always toyed with the idea of being a tattooer but it was always a pipe dream for me. I went to school because my girlfriend at the time — who is currently my baby mama and fiancée — and my mother, really pushed me to do so. I was never really into it and always saw art school as kind of a gimmick. However, I do feel like it helped me a lot with understanding why colors work the way they do and definitely helped me with the overall composition of a tattoo.

Q: What’s the biggest obstacle you’ve overcome as a tattooer?

A: I think just finding my niche. I’ve worked at quite a few shops in comparison to how long I’ve been tattooing, so I always thought maybe I just didn’t play well with others. Turns out I just had to get in where I fit in. The shop I’m at now is really cool. Barbers Electric Tattooing is the shop I wanted to work at since I started tattooing and now I’m here and I’m stoked about it. It’s everything I could’ve ever asked for.

Q: How is where you tattoo now different from the other shops?

Halsey tattoos a customer at Barber's Electric Tattooing.

A: I would say Barber’s is different because it’s a shop where everyone is working as a collective as opposed to operating as a single entity. No one is trying to cut your throat for business, everyone has their own clientele, and most of all, everyone is very skilled and specialized in what they do. Whenever I need help with a drawing, I can just ask, you know? I can honestly say I would let anyone I work with make a tattoo on me, which is saying a lot, considering my ever-dwindling amount of space I have left. [Laughs]

Q: Where do you find inspiration behind your tattoos/tattooing style?

A: I would say I find most of my influence from a lot of the old timers — the godfathers of the modern tattoo, if you will. Anywhere from George Burchett who tattooed in the United Kingdom at the turn of the 20th century, to Sailor Jerry Collins who tattooed in Hawaii until the day he died in 1973. I just really like tattoos that look like tattoos…if that makes any sense. There’s something to be said about the Traditional Tattoo and its timeless designs. It’s been popular for 150 plus years and isn’t going anywhere. Those designs — when executed properly — will stand the test of time and you will still be able to tell what it is 50 or 60 years from now. Everything else as far as different styles of tattoos go…they just get kind of blah. Don’t fix it if it ain’t broke and all that.

Q: How has your tattooing style changed or evolved since you first became a tattoo artist? How do you want it to continue to evolve?

A: I would just say I got a better grasp on what it was I was trying to accomplish in the first place. I focused in on what was really going on instead of what I thought was happening. I humbled myself to the degree I needed to in order to learn something. I just want to make good, immaculate tattoos, focus in on my creativity and stay humble, you know?

Q: Tattoo artists seem to have more and more of a presence in mainstream media. Why do you think all these reality shows about tattoos are popping up? How does the tattoo community feel about it?

A: I don’t know. I guess people from outside the industry are trying to make money off it somehow, and succeeding at it. It’s a bummer mostly because it gives the general public a very skewed view of what really goes on. They feel as if they’re let in on some of the behind-the-scenes aspect of what’s really going on, and they are being misled. I guess it’s just an overall misrepresentation of something people work so hard for and hold in very high regard — sometimes even making a mockery of it.

Q: What is your biggest dream/goal as far as tattooing goes?

Dave Halsey, 24, at Barber’s Electric Tattooing in Cincinnati, Ohio. Photo by Lauren Purkey.

A: I just really want to travel and see the world. With this career, I have the opportunity to make money while I travel. Tattooing can take me anywhere. Also, I want to continue to support my family, buy a house, and so on and so forth.

Q: How did you start traveling to other places to tattoo? What has that experience been like?

A: Well, I’ve just had the blessing of knowing a lot of people in all the right places. I haven’t traveled as much as I would’ve liked to, but there’s still a lot of time for that. It’s really interesting to get to see how other shops in different parts of the United States work, as well as just the people who get tattoos and the people who do them, for that matter. I’d like to go to the United Kingdom and Europe to do some tattoos eventually. We’ll see what happens.

Q: What is the biggest misconception about tattoo artists or the work they do?

A: I would say that people just think we’re just drawing pictures all day and it’s all fun and games. In reality that’s not even half of what goes on. You always kind of have homework, you know? You never really get to stop doing this. When I’m at home, I’m drawing for appointments or even just trying to further my knowledge. Or I’m painting for the same reasons. It is the most fun I think I could personally have with an actual career… but it is extremely hard work. It’s worth it, you know? As with every other career that exists, you get back what you put into it. If you’re good to tattooing, tattooing will be good to you.

Q: Why is tattooing important to you? Why are tattoos important in general, in your opinion?

Halsey fills in a design with water color ink at Barber’s Electric Tattooing in Cincinnati, Ohio. Photo by Lauren Purkey.

A: I’ve never been more obsessive over anything. From the first time I was ever tattooed on my 18th birthday, I’ve just been fascinated with everything about it. I’m very thankful I’ve had the opportunities I’ve had thus far. Truthfully, I only think tattooing is important to those who take it seriously. Otherwise it’s just something ‘dangerous’ to do. Maybe you’re rebelling against your parents or society as a whole. But realistically, tattooing for me always came in high priority. If I had a tattoo appointment and had rent due the same week, I would still go get the tattoo and figure rent out later. I guess I’m a different breed. Tattooing is important because it changes the way you look and changes the way you feel, and most importantly, it changes the way people perceive you. I would say just being able to have that effect on someone’s life as a whole is what makes my job worthwhile…along with getting to wear whatever I want, talk however I want, voice my opinion no matter how P.C. it is or is not, and just getting to be me. I’m happy when I get to come to work. I don’t know too many people who can say that.

Nathaniel Isaacson, 22, free falls from the sky with a first-time student skydiver. Photo provided by Skydive Greene County.

Slicing through the clouds two miles above the ground might give even the most adventurous daredevil acrophobia. But Nathaniel “Shaggy” Isaacson, 22, free falls with students seven days a week at Skydive Greene County in Xenia, Ohio to give them a firsthand experience of the rush of skydiving.

Q: Tell me about being a 22-year-old skydiving instructor.
A: I have been skydiving for just over four-and-half years and been working in skydiving for almost six. Most 22 year olds are just getting out of college and looking for a job. My job started out slow and I made it into a career through hard work. It’s paid off.

I work for eight or nine months and get the rest of the months off to travel and meet new people. It’s nice to have a three-or-four-month vacation doing the same thing you love to do.

I think being 22 and a skydiving instructor gives you the freedom to go anywhere you want and do the things you want. Once you start somewhere, you can pretty much go anywhere in the country — anywhere in the world — especially with the more ratings you have. I’m a tandem instructor and I went down to Florida and I was just hanging out and worked for a couple jumps here, and there to pay for fun jumps and hanging out.

There are a lot of drop zones. They’ve got drop zones in Spain and Italy, New Zealand and Australia. They let you jump down in Puerto Rico and Mexico. It’d be nice to bounce around and see the world and places to jump.

The pilot and skydivers board the plane for take off at Skydive Greene County. Photo by Taylor Norton.

Q: As an instructor, what do you do?
A: Well, I am sort of a weekday manager. I process the students as they come in and make sure all the paperwork is in order for them to jump. I take their money and assign them to the tandem master. I make sure everything runs smoothly.

My main job is a tandem master — I jump with people on the front of me. I’m also a static line instructor. With this, I can train people that want to learn how to skydive [on their own or professionally]. I also have professional rating, so I can jump into demos like football games or even stadiums for special events.

I’m a parachute packer and a rigger, too. It’s a FAA [Federal Aviation Administration] certification that allows me to back the reserve parachute — the backup. I pack the parachutes up after they are jumped; I have about 9,000 pack jobs. I also repair parachutes or containers if they are damaged, and yes, my reserve parachutes have been used and always work great.
I’m an airplane mechanic. I have an A&P — another FAA certificate.

I help Jim work on the planes throughout the week when we are not jumping to keep them in a good running condition and always ready to be flown. I’m working on getting my private pilot’s license. I have about 30 hours of flying. I should be able to get it sometime next spring or during the summer.

I can pretty much do anything around here or at a drop zone or anything in aviation — being a mechanic, a pilot and having good skydiving rankings. No matter where I go I can always find some job or work somewhere. I could see myself running a drop zone like Jim one day.

Nathaniel Isaacson parachutes down from the sky with a first-time student skydiver. Photo by Taylor Norton.

Q: How did you get started?
A: I have always been an adventurous person. As a kid I would do all sorts of crazy things: BMX biking, skateboarding, climbing and repelling, and skydiving was something I always wanted to do. I had a friend who just turned 18 and he was going to come out and do a tandem [jump]; I road my bicycle out to the airport and watched him.

I started talking to a couple of the guys on the porch and [Jim West, the owner] was one of them. He asked [my brother and me] if we had good work ethic and we said yea. He said, “If you guys want to make some money pretty easy, just learn how to pack parachutes.” Then we started hanging out, kind of coming up on the weekends, and then as the summer progressed we started working on airplanes.

The Westwind, the airplane we jumped out of today, needed to be repainted then, so we worked on sanding and all that. I kind of had a little bit of experience working on cars and stuff and then the more I hung out here, Jim started talking to me more and more. I was 17 at the time. I kind of just started packing parachutes making pretty good money — making more money than a 16 or 17 year old could make at a regular job.

Q: What makes you get up and go to work everyday?
A: I love my job. I get to jump out of airplanes every day. I take people on their first jumps and get to experience that joy they feel. It’s a good experience to see people’s faces the first time they jump out of an airplane — the excitement on their face, the look of fear. Most students enjoy it the whole way down.

The drive of learning and trying to get better is what makes me want to go to work every day. Even though I’ve been skydiving for five years, I still am learning new things. There are so many different things you can do; it takes years to even master one skill.

The more I jump the more I learn. With this job I get to learn a little quicker since I get the opportunity to jump so much — we trade off on things. I don’t get paid to work on the airplanes, but I get to jump out of them for free, which is why I have around 3,000 — 2,961 if you want the exact number.

Nathaniel Isaacson and a first-time student skydiver jump from the plane. Photo provided by Skydive Greene County.

It’s more than a job. Since I’ve been working out here I have become part of a family.

Q: Have you ever lost anything in the sky?
A: I have lost a couple of things while skydiving. I, too, have lost a shoe the same way Ronnie [the owner’s granddaughter] did, but I was lucky enough for my shoe to land back on the drop zone on the end of the run way. I was happy to get it back. About three weeks later, I jumped out of the plane and hit my foot on the door which knocked [my shoe] off. I was not lucky that time. I didn’t find that one.

I almost lost my camera helmet. It’s what I use to video people in freefall. When my parachute opened up, it hit my helmet and knocked it loose. It started to fall off my head, but I was able to catch it behind my back…it was a funny video.

Q: What are some of your more memorable jumps?
A: I took my dad on a tandem. He’s a bigger guy. He lost a little weight and I was able to take him.

The USPA, United States Parachuters Association, they’ll have you test to get different ratings so you can jump into stadiums or different events around here. I’ve jumped to a high school football game on September 11; I jumped a flag in. The school I graduated from — I got to jump a flag into one of their big cross-country meets.

A pair of skydiving goggles at Skydive Greene County. Photo by Taylor Norton.

In 2009, I went and competed in nationals for accuracy: You jump out of the airplane and try to land on a two-centimeter target. They have a scoring pad and wherever you hit on the pad from that target, they’ll mark off where you landed. I did pretty good. Most of the people that do accuracy have been jumping for a long time. They have about as many jumps as Jim has [over 116,000 jumps]. A lot of them have been jumping since the ’60s and ’70s, so when they saw a kid coming in at 19 years old they were excited.

I was doing some tandems down in Florida and I got to go out and do sunset beach jumps. You jump out of the airplane, you got to see the sunset, you’re just flying on your canopy, and you can land right on the beach and the ocean. It’s probably one of the best jumps I’ve gotten to do.

Q: Did you think growing up that this would be something you’d be doing?
A: No, not the way it’s turned out. Once I started getting into it, I started having more fun. I was able to make some more money and was like, it’s not too bad. I’ll keep skydiving for a couple more years, then see if I can get a different job working on airplanes somewhere and still skydive as a hobby.

As long as I’m still able to jump I probably will. I wonder when I’m going to slow down, because every year I seem to do more jumps than I did the year before. The first year I did like 100, the second year close to 600, last year I did about 800 and this year I’m almost at about 900 jumps. This year the way the weather was, was so perfect — all the hot summer days. Not so good for the farmers, but a great year for skydiving.

Mike Dewey, 40, holds a beer at Mt. Carmel Brewery in Cincinnati, Ohio. Photo by Kim Scaff.

When Cincinnati native Mike Dewey began home-brewing more than 10 years ago, he developed a love for the craft and was faced with a tough decision: to continue his job as a mechanical engineer or jumpstart a new career in the brewing business. Now 40, Dewey and his wife, Kathleen, have been the proud owners of Mt. Carmel Brewing Company for eight years and continue to offer a vast selection of tasty brews throughout Ohio and Kentucky.

Q: What got you into the beer-brewing business?

A: Interestingly enough, I was always into beer, even in high school. I was the guy who opted for the six-pack of good beer over the case of cheap beer. During the 90’s, it didn’t seem like Cincinnati had what it took to be part of the growing craft movement that states like California and Oregon had going for them. It was the demise of one of my favorite local breweries during this time, Oldenburg in 2001, that launched the idea that I would do something myself.

Q: Can you give a brief history on the startup of Mt. Carmel Brewing Co.?

Mike Dewey pours a light beer from the tap. Photo by Kim Scaff.

A: I started home-brewing as a hobby in 2001. It’s difficult and time consuming when you have limited resources. It takes away patience to make something drinkable, much less good. I started building on that and after thousands of dollars spent, I essentially had a nano-brewery set up in the basement of our home. It was actually nicer than other startup breweries, and even though it was small, we were able to make good and consistent beer. At that point we decided to make a go at it, but only as a side project to our day jobs.

Q: So were you looking for an escape from the day job you had?

A: We weren’t looking for that, but quickly after getting a license and selling the product we realized that it would cost more money if we didn’t start making and selling more beer. It was at that time that brewing beer and building our brewery was a lot more exciting than [my day job]. I would essentially build other people’s dreams — a chiropractor office, a flower shop, a bookstore — basically building everyone else’s dreams but mine. It came down to the flip of a coin. What was more fun? I went for the brewery, left the construction work behind and became the first full-time employee, followed shortly by my wife, Kathleen, with accounting.

Q: Were there any trials or troubles starting in the beginning?

A: You know, it was all positive feedback, from every angle. However, the headaches never stop, as with any small business. Getting settled with suppliers was the more difficult task. It took about three years to find a glass supplier and a steady hop supplier that were consistent and reliable. Something is always not working the way it should. However, if you’re willing to put in the sweat capital, it’ll work, but most people aren’t. We didn’t have a bank loan to start out; we had the risk of, “Will our brand win sufficient support of the market?” It came down to a well-calculated plan and a lot of work that had to be put into it to get to the level we wanted.

Q: Describe a typical day of work at the brewery and if it compares to a typical nine-to-five.

Mike Dewey sits behind his bar at his Cincinnati brewery. Photo by Kim Scaff.

A: About two years ago we had a 100 percent turnover in employees, and since then I’ve been able to take a step back from production. My day-to-day activities are still small business goals: working on efficiency, ordering, scheduling, monitoring of reports and projecting surges and swings. I used to be in the day-to-day brewing and packaging process in the warehouse. Hours are never the typical nine to five. Whenever anything needs to get done, it gets done. Most employees are hitting overtime by Thursday, and that’s every week. That gives you an idea of their dedication. The amount of cleaning never stops. We operate from 5 a.m. to 1 a.m. most days. If you want to see a clean brewery, you have to come in between those hours [laughs]. The theory is you have to break eggs to make an omelet, and basically it’s a working brewery.

Q: What’s the best part about what you do?

An award for 'Best Blonde Ale' hangs on the brewery's wall. Photo by Kim Scaff.

A: I think the [best part] is that my wife and I found a sustainable company that employs people: people who come to work every day and love what they do and look forward to the day. I enjoy hearing stories about our employees who get acknowledgement or a sense of pride when someone recognizes them or a Mt. Carmel shirt they’re wearing, like, “Hey, you work for Mt. Carmel. Let me buy you a drink.” It’s very cool; and drinking a beer while doing an interview, now that’s cool!

Q: I read a recently conducted study that shows drinking on the job (moderately, of course) helps employees feel more relaxed and have a better work ethic.

A: It makes sense. I get that whole health awareness from it. You got to put yourself in a comfortable environment in order for your best to come through and I think that contributes to Mt. Carmel. The employees here feel comfortable and that’s where the magic happens.

Q: Out of all the beer you’ve made, what’s your favorite brew?

A: As far as my recipes go, our Nut Brown Ale is my strongest as far as styles go. I’m the master brewer, followed by two brew masters, and what we’ve been doing is generating ideas and concepts as a whole — a group effort. My other favorites are our seasonal beers. It’s something we always look forward to.

Q: What is your favorite part of brewing?

A: For me, it’s the process side — the creativity side. There’s as much creativity on the process side as there is on the recipe side, and we have several different ways to make beer, and I love producing something that people actually enjoy.

A lineup of the various brews at Mt. Carmel Brewery. Photo by Kim Scaff.

Q: What about tasting the final product?

A: Working at a brewery, you have to taste a lot of beer, sometimes more often than you might like. You can buy all the fancy equipment you want, but actually knowing your beer by sensory awareness is the most important part. People say, “You probably drink a lot at work,” and well, it’s true. It’s like a holiday around here when a new brew comes out.

Q: Do you have any advice for someone who might want to start a career in the brewing business?

A: My advice is pretty common sense, but work at a [local] brewery, you know. It helps to learn the day-to-day basis of the brewing atmosphere. Nowadays it’s hard, though, because most [big-name] breweries require formal training.

Q: Do you think people should drink craft beer over domestic brands?

Mike Dewey behind the beer taps at Mt. Carmel Brewery. Photo by Kim Scaff.

A: Hell Yeah! [Laughs] My interpretation is this: If you’re drinking a domestic beer every time you drink beer, it’s like eating the same food for every meal. It doesn’t make sense when there are so many other options out there.

Q: Has being a brewer taught you anything over the years?

A: Not so much about myself, but I frequently tell people that I’ve learned more about human resources then I have making beer. We found that to be the make-or-break for any small business. Having a greater awareness of resources in your pockets leads to building a better business.

Combine a sultry pole studio with a sweaty, glut-blasting fitness routine, and you’ve got one of the hottest ways to slim down and tighten up. Ohio’s PoleKittens Fitness is the oldest pole studio in the country and continues to offer classes on pole dancing, lap dancing and striptease. Working mother and three-year pole dance instructor, Billie Jo Louden, 31, gives us the scoop on teaching an eclectic group of women curvy pole swings and sassy flips and dips.

Billie Jo Louden, 31, shows off her moves at PoleKittens Fitnesss in Cincinnati, Ohio. Photo by Liz Odom.

Q: Why did you start pole dancing?

A: I just had my third kid and I had went to the gym and I couldn’t really lose the belly fat. I just wasn’t happy. I didn’t feel like my body was being transformed back into where it was. So I went online and I googled different ab exercises, and there was a news clip that came on. It’s actually on the website now. I was like, I should try that. I couldn’t get any of my friends to do it or anything, so I had to come by myself.

Really, I just wanted to lose some weight. I went from a size 12 to a six doing this and [going] to the gym. It’s addicting! Once you get your first spin, then you’re like, ‘Oh, I want to try this.’ You’re always wanting to try new things. Somebody will do something and you’re like, ‘Oh, show me how to do that.’

I like it here because you get to work at your own pace. You’re only as good as the move that you’re working on. Nobody is like, ‘Oh, you should be here, doing this.’ It doesn’t matter. They’re always encouraging.

Q: Can you tell me about your clients and students?

A: Everybody — anybody — of all ages and all sizes can do this. Any size — big, small, in the middle, athletic — you don’t have to be athletic. You don’t have to have worked out a day in your life. You can still do it. I remember when I did my pole orientation. I had a lady who was in class with me — she did it for her 50th birthday.

Q: How does your husband feel about you working here?

A: I think at first he was kind of like, I don’t know about this, but you know, it’s only girls in here. And then I built up more confidence, kind of carried myself different, my body was changing, and then he was like, ‘Ohhh!’ And then of course he got a little treatment at the house [laughs].

I even have a pole at the house. I do it at the house, too, when I can, when the kids are sleeping. My nephew lives in my basement right now. He’s getting ready to graduate from high school, so I don’t get to play as much as I want to — it’s only when he’s at work or gone [laughs]. He loves it. [He] encourages me with everything. Of course he watches our kids when I’m here teaching.

Q: Do your kids know what you do?

Shoes worn during classes. Photo by Liz Odom.

A: Yes! And actually, they will swing around the pole downstairs. Obviously I won’t do certain moves, or erotic moves around them or anything. My daughter — she can almost go upside-down. It’s just because kids, they don’t think of the fear factor of falling, whereas adults, they’re like, ‘Oh, I’m going to hit my head.’ They can climb the pole and do stuff. That’s only because they want to play on it. I think pole exercise is good for anybody, but I certainly don’t encourage them to climb on a pole.

Q: Have you ever fallen?

A: I did fall once. It happened on that pole right there. Luckily, I was close to the ground. It wasn’t a big thing, but I haven’t really bit it big time or anything like that.

Q: Is this your only job?

A: I’m a legal secretary. It’s full time, and until this year, my boss did not know that I did this. It ended up coming out with a client telling him. [The client] was asking about pole classes, and at the time I was getting ready to start pole classes. He was like, ‘Oh really? You do that?’ He was surprised, but he didn’t give me any grief about it. Because once I leave there at 5, you know, I’m done there. [PoleKittens Fitness] is what I like to do. This is what makes me feel sexy.

Q: So, basically you work two jobs?

A: It takes me away from my family, so yeah, it is a job. I get paid for it, but it’s fun! I like to come here [laughs]. I don’t always like going to my regular job. I just do it for extra money. I like to do it. I like to see girls get their first spin, be able to do the bow, or whatever. You know? That’s awesome, because they come in here thinking they can’t do it, or most are intimidated by the pole, until they touch it and then they’re like, ‘Oh this is awesome. I want to try it.‘

A photo of the PoleKittens Fitness logo at the studio. Photo by Liz Odom.

Q: Would you do this full time if you could?

A: Yes, I would. It’s so rewarding seeing women feel better about themselves and, like I said, get the moves that they’ve been working on and it’s just, it’s really nice. Definitely I would do it, if it was more money. I plan on doing it for as long as I can — probably until I’m walking with a cane. V, the owner, still does it. I think she’s 45 or 46. She’s a lot better than I am. I hope to be like her.

Q: Do you think there is a stigma associated with pole dancing?

A: Well, I think anywhere you go, whenever you tell somebody that you pole dance or pole exercise, they’re automatically going to think the worst. And until somebody actually tries it, they don’t realize that it’s an exercise, but, when they try it, they’re like, ‘Oh, there really is a technique to a fireman’s spin,’ or, you know, the wrap-around.

There definitely is a stigma to it. I think everybody just automatically thinks of strippers and I think it’s unfair. Pole dancing actually is a sport, and it’s probably going to be in the Olympics here, soon. There’s more to it than just the sexy side — there is exercise. A lot of people don’t realize that it is really a workout.

In a world where financing for startups owned by women is essentially non-existent, Bad Girl Ventures is an organization helping bright businesswomen launch their bold ideas.

Finalists in the Bad Girl Ventures micro-lending program might lead vastly different companies, but they share a common goal: to be successful in business. Photo by Lauren Purkey.

When Kentucky native Candace Klein lost her job as a securities attorney, she began working with women-owned small businesses. She noticed many of her clients struggling to pay legal bills, and learned that while women own 50 percent of small businesses, they only have access to 5 percent of traditional capital. Klein, 31, ready to fix this problem, created Bad Girl Ventures (BGV), a non-profit organization in Cincinnati that provides micro lending to new businesses owned by women.

Corey Drushal, director of Bad Girl Ventures, watches one of the finalists give her pitch for the audience. Photo by Lauren Purkey.

“There hasn’t really been a program like BGV before,” says Corey Drushal, 25, the organization’s director. “We saw the problem that women need financing. They don’t have access to it. A lot of that is because most of the time banks want to see some history [showing] that they’ve been profitable. If you are just starting out with your first business, you might have not reached profitability yet, so how do you prove to a bank that you’re credit-worthy?”

BGV, now in its third year, has awarded four loans, worked with 48 finalists and trained more than 400 people through its program, creating more than 125 jobs in Cincinnati alone. BGV has a new office in Cleveland and will soon open an office in Columbus, and Klein hopes to someday expand nationally.  “We have been able to create that culture of women entrepreneurs in the city that wasn’t really there before,” Drushal says.

Finalist Melanie Cedargren gives her pitch for her startup business, Spicy Olive. Photo by Lauren Purkey.

For Melanie Cedargren and her two partners at Spicy Olive, the sinking feeling of not knowing how to get their startup restaurant off the ground overwhelmed them. It wasn’t until they got involved with BGV that they felt reassured. “First of all it gives you vindication that your idea and what you want to do, other people find value in it,” says Cedargren, 50. “It made us feel great. And then coming and meeting everybody else—it is so neat to be with people who have ideas and dreams and want to make something come real.”

BGV offers a nine-week business development course for anyone with an idea and $150. (Participants can also take individual classes a la carte at $25 a session.) Each week is focused on a different subject area and is taught by experts in that specific field. At the end of each class, the women engage in “speed coaching” sessions with the experts and professionals who are coaching that week. The goal is to prepare the women to complete a business and marketing plan and a three-year financial projection. The experts combine the nine-week course and micro lending for their 10 finalists who compete for the $25,000 loan. For these 10 “Bad Girl” finalists who get to make their pitches at the end of the nine weeks, though, calling this a competition might be misleading.

“It’s awesome to see everyone else succeed; you just want to help them,” says Megan Gourlie, 28, owner of Dogtown Cincinnati, an interactive daycare for dogs and cats. Gourlie worked with BGV partner Score, a nonprofit association dedicated to helping small businesses through education and mentorship. Although she’s been running her business for a year now, she has had to overcome many uncertainties and “I don’t know” moments when it came to growing her startup company. “I am a business owner who was not educated in business,” she says. “I went to school for architecture. There were a lot of things I didn’t know and was struggling with.”

Unlike most competitive business start-ups in a challenging economy, BGV finalists serve as a network for each other – and their support seems to be wholly altruistic and genuine. “Everyone wants everyone else to succeed,” says BGV participant Amy Elisabeth Spasoff, owner of Amy Elisabeth Photography. “No matter who wins in the end, we all kind of win in the end.” Spasoff, 38, describes that even when she doesn’t understand what a coach or expert is talking about in class that day—and feels like jabbing a pencil in her eye—someone will always lean over and whisper, “Don’t worry, I’ll explain it to you later.”

For Emily Frank, 37, owner of C’est Cheese Food Truck—an on-the-go restaurant serving gourmet grilled-cheese sandwiches—this validation and support from her BGV peers, along with the strength of her mentors, has really reassured her. “Sometimes it’s just knowing you’re not the only one doing it,” she says. “Before [I met the BGV women], I thought I was the only person sitting at my computer 15 hours a day, stressing out over everything that goes into starting a new business, and now I know that are many, many more people.”

Bad Girl Ventures finalist Kim Howell seeks a mentor's advice for her startup business. Photo by Lauren Purkey.

At typical gatherings of BGV participants, the women talk not about the challenges of being women business owners, specifically, but just about being business owners, in general. Kristen Alvarez, for example, owner of Terra Strenua Outfitters, doesn’t see herself as being a minority business owner even though she works in a very male-dominated industry, trying to create a technical camping product. “For so many of us, does that come first—‘I am a woman entrepreneur?’” says Alvarez, 31. “I know for me it is like I am doing my thing, and I have an idea and I’m just doing it. I think that [our gender] is so much a lens that people see us through. For me, that’s not something I think about.”

The women who are chosen as finalists have smart and innovative ideas, the initiative to seek support and the passion to see their dreams grow, Drushal says. They are relentless, strong and don’t take crap from anybody. And no matter who wins in the end, BGV has given each of them something that can’t be stamped in approval by a bank or critically evaluated by a venture capitalist, its participants say. The organization has given them courage, determination and light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.

“I could not public-speak to save my life until I took this class,” says Katie Bunschoten, 30, owner of KHB Office, which provides accounting for small businesses. “But somebody said to me today during break, ‘You know what, your pitch has improved so much from your first day.’ I know I am now speaking more clearly, more confidently and I believe that in itself has just brought a lot of benefit with it. I also know at the end of the day, if I’m having a hard time, I’ve got my girls here.”  

He’s a premier DJ, avid break-dancer/bboy and hip-hop junkie, so any way you look at it, Maryland native Stephen Fleg, 26, knows how to turn the tables. Now one of the most popular DJs on the East Coast, Fleg lives in Washington, D.C. – which seems fitting for a guy who has a bachelor’s degree in government and politics. He spoke with Verge writer Perry Simpson about how he got started in the business and what he thinks about how hip-hop, break-dancing and his profession have evolved in the past few decades.

Image courtesy of Stephen Fleg.

Q: How were you first exposed to hip-hop?
A: I guess it was through my older brother in the early ‘90s. He got into it in the late ‘80s. Whenever we were in the car with my mom, my brother would turn to a hip-hop station. That’s how I came to know what is now — a classical era of hip-hop. Obviously, it got me interested enough to explore more of it.

Q: When did you start bboying?
A: Well, if you want to call it a “start,” it started in ’99 in terms of messing around and stuff, but at that point I had no idea what I was doing. I saw a split second of a video, but that was it. I thought it was really cool and I actually saw some kids at dances doing stuff, but there was no connection to the scene or knowledge of real moves per se. But that was what I understood, so I tried to do it anyway.

Q: You mentioned a video. Was there a particular bboy or crew that you drew inspiration from?
A: Well, as I started to get more videos and such from local events, one of the biggest inspirations was the Northern Virginia scene. There was a guy named Create who was there. He had really, really dope footwork. Northern Virginia and Maryland, in general, [are] somewhere between New York and Florida, style-wise. Some guys, like Xeno from Flip Side Kings, lived in Northern Virginia for a while. I know he and Beta brought a lot of that Florida-style up there and that definitely influenced me. Then there was the sort of weirder Maryland-style, like LSD Crew and Evil Ben, and they influenced me as well — kind of a combination of those.

Q: When did you pick up DJing?
A: I started in 2001, [when] I got my first turntables and basically I wanted to do scratching. That was my main focus. I didn’t even think about spinning bboy events until a couple of years later. I just wanted to learn how to scratch and I liked hip-hop. Hearing mixes on the radio, I would want to mix that stuff with early ‘90s hip-hop and be able to beat juggle and stuff like that. That’s where I focused a lot of my energy for the first couple years of DJing.

Q: What did you originally want to do when you grew up?
A: I was always intrigued by DJing and production. I knew I liked it, but I didn’t know it was this crazy — like, “Whoa! How the hell does that happen?” I would hear [hip-hop] – especially in the early ‘90s – and be like, “Damn this track…it’s like dope as shit.” You know? Like I’d hear this new song and it’d be awesome. “How did they make this? How did they make the drums like that? How do they make these really dope songs?” I didn’t know anything about sampling or anything. I just thought it was dope. Then you switch to now, today’s hip-hop. For me, it’s like the production isn’t soulful. It isn’t like, mad-produced a lot of the time. I guess there was just a certain sound from back then. I didn’t know that I wanted to make it or DJ it, but I knew I was intrigued by the sound back then. Especially when the tracks would kick in, it was really dope.

Q: Speaking of contemporary hip-hop, what’s your opinion on the way things have changed, and how are the changes affecting you as a DJ?
A: I mean, obviously if it’s time to do commercial gigs, you just have to play top-40 and you have to accept that. So you can do that and try to have it as a way of making your money, or stick as much as possible to your ideology and try to make your money doing things you love, which goes for anything. You could be a lawyer and want to save the world and do international law, but then there’s the reality check like, “Well, we still need after-court lawyers,” which, you know, no one aspires to do that, but it makes money. In any profession you have your idealism mixed with the reality of your situation. Me? I just think it takes an effort and sort of a willingness to be broke for a while in order to succeed at what you’re really trying to go for ideologically. That’s always existed. It’s not a matter of me giving my opinion like whether or not I like this. I mean I have my opinion, but can’t say end-all-be-all, “This music is bad, this music is good.” I have my opinions on what I think of newer hip-hop and because of my ideology, I’m just like, I’ll try my hardest not to do that because I don’t like that just because that’s where the money is.

Q: The cost of entry into DJing is extremely high. Do you have any advice for people who are trying to get into it? How did you front the cost?
A: Now, more than ever, you can get into DJing without having too much money. Even though I don’t necessarily use them, there are interfaces you can connect to a computer and from one interface you have your whole mp3 library right there. That makes the barriers lower, but that also means each person getting into it may get in without having much an idea of what they’re doing.

When you had vinyl and could only use vinyl, which is how it was for a while, in order to be a good DJ you had to really go out and look for what you want and be willing to spend money on this. You had to really decide what you wanted to play because it wasn’t just like, “Eh, I’ll play anything because it doesn’t cost me more or less to play this song that I hate since I got it free online.” That sort of makes the individuality of the DJ and their sound diminish, because everyone has access to all of these songs. When you’re looking for vinyl, it’s a different game because you’d choose what you want and you’re paying for it. You had to make more targeted decisions.

I built up my equipment over like eight, nine years. I just – about a year and a half ago – got a nicer mixer than the shitty ones I was borrowing from friends or whatever. It just takes time if you really want to build up DJ equipment. My best advice would be to figure out what to play. You don’t have to buy vinyl.

Q: How do you feel about the vinyl vs. digital debate in the DJing community?
A: I like to stress this: I don’t like when certain people say a real DJ does this or that, this or that. My response to that is, you know, the people that were spinning records in the parks in the ‘70s and ‘80s were the beginning of hip-hop. If you told them, “Don’t use the most sophisticated equipment of your time. You can only use this,” hip-hop wouldn’t have been born. So in other words, “Don’t use a turntable if you use a mixer, that’s too advanced. You can’t do that. That’s not real DJing.” There would be no hip-hop. So I shy away from that. But I do mention vinyl as being a good way of seeing that individuality as a DJ. So if you don’t do that, you have to find another way of looking for music and what speaks for you; and that’s what’s going to ultimately make your style as a DJ, as opposed to, you know, “What do I have that will satisfy everyone all of the time?” That won’t help you develop as a DJ. It’ll make you the same as every other DJ.

Q: Has your experience in breaking influenced your DJ mixing?
A: I know what I like to break to. I like to break to hard drums. But, you know, as I’m developing my breaking and getting more into things like top-rock or stuff like that, I notice it’s not just the drums that are dope, the horns are nasty or whatever. That baseline gives you a certain feeling. At this point, I’m trying to keep it as raw as possible. I have several different modes when I’m breaking. I have like, battling — what I want to feel when I’m battling in order to stay hype. I know what I like to feel when I’m cyphering, you know, top-rocking and stuff. I have what I like to hear when I footwork. There’s the stuff people do power to, not that I do much power. But you recognize there is a certain, different sound that people like for all of those things. The best I can do is try to give a balance at a jam.

If you play, like, ultra hype battle music through all of the ciphers, it doesn’t give anyone the chance to vibe out and really get into their top-rock and feel the music out. So, I try to make sure I have all ends covered so everyone at the jam with any type of style will be able to have fun. The bboying affects the DJing a lot, but sometimes it’s not obvious until you test it out in a battle or something. It’s a different experience dancing to it versus listening to it.

There are songs that will hype up a crowd. They could be epic. You hear a lot of these at big breaking events.  There was a time before some of these events started getting around where some of the DJs had this whole sound like, “end of the world breaks” as I call them. That stuff gets the attention of the crowd. For them it’s like they’re seeing a movie where two medieval armies are about to clash into each other and there’s some crazy shit happening, but the point is that’s not necessarily what is good for the dancer. The song could be dope and really hype the crowd, but you have to make sure it’s danceable. I only try to play stuff I would dance to or that I think has the right cues and doesn’t cheapen the music.

Q: Where do you see your career as a bboy/DJ going from here?
A: I love experiencing other cultures. I lived in Brazil for a while and I’ve been to Japan, but I haven’t been to a lot of places. I love to see different cultures, see how they live, see how they eat and how they listen to their music, and of course if there [are] breaks in there. But besides breaks, I love music and I want to hear music from around the world that people have made because there’s so much there.  It would be cool to spin one of the big competitions and go to Europe or [somewhere] like that, to get to travel somewhere to do what I love [and] to see how other people interpret hip-hop and how they live, in general. 

In 2005 I watched on TV as Hurricane Katrina’s storm surge washed away a chunk of the I-10 causeway that leads into New Orleans. Going over the causeway again six years later, and looking around at the post-Katrina construction that was well underway, made my stomach churn and twist. My cherished memories of blue water were replaced by images of abandoned condos with orange Xs spray-painted on the sides and houses scarred by massive holes in their walls; it was devastation that I still can’t comprehend. Years after Katrina’s waters receded, the east side of New Orleans still looks post-apocalyptic. A few miles west, though, as I pull off the highway and into downtown New Orleans, I see no sign of that same disaster. Instead, it was business as usual. And by “business” in New Orleans, I mean “fun.”

Calliope music from the Steamboat Natchez spills into Woldenburg Park, nestled behind Cafe Due Monde, right along the Mississippi. Photo by Deirdre Kaye.

Weekdays have the same high energy as weekends in New Orleans. Whether you’re in town on a Friday or a Tuesday, you’re bound to see a billion people bustling around at a million parties. I think the line “It’s 5 o’clock somewhere” must have originated in New Orleans. My adventure begins on an early Thursday morning (read: 9 a.m.): I’m standing in line at Café Du Monde, jonesin’ for a bag of their signature beignets. There’s a place around the corner that serves frozen daiquiris in to-go cups and they’re already open; I might just go there next. I’m not a heavy drinker, but when it’s 70 degrees at nine o’clock and the mercury will be rising all day, anything “frozen” sounds much more appetizing than coffee. I grab my brown-bag breakfast and hop around the corner to get a drink to wash down those beignets.

Aside from the ebb and flow of conversation and the clinking of mugs, Café Du Monde feels relatively quiet, especially when compared to the noise outside. As I head down the street to Market Café, I’m almost overwhelmed by the sounds on the street. Car engines are revving, steamboats are tooting, people are shouting out to one another and someone across the street is plucking away on a banjo. I’ve spent two summers of my life living in New York City and I can say without a doubt that somehow New Orleans is louder. Perhaps it’s the collision of musical sounds that make this city’s noise seem so intense. Just in the quick walk to the café, I pass three stores with their radios blaring out the windows. From Britney Spears to Cajun polka, it spills out of storefronts and straight into my ears. I pass another busker, too; this one is playing guitar instead of banjo. My heart aches a bit when I pass him without throwing any change into his case. I love to support local musicians, but I’d be out on the street with them if I tried to donate to every street performer I pass while in New Orleans. I do my best to offer him a smile that’s not filled with pity and then duck inside for some frozen goodness.

Market Café is a small, always-packed restaurant near the French Market that caters to tourists and locals alike with a menu that includes everything from po’boys and crawfish pies to Caesar salads and hamburgers. I’ve got my steaming bag of beignets, and don’t plan to get anything but a frozen hurricane in a to-go cup. My eyes briefly linger over the menu listing for alligator tail nuggets, though. I grew up in south Florida, where I lived down the street from a restaurant that served all sorts of weird, wild and wonderful southern fare. I remember eating alligator. It’s trite to say this, I know, but it really does taste like chicken…only a bit tougher. I remind myself to come back here for dinner, but I already know I’ll have forgotten by then. There’s always something brighter, shinier and yummier to catch your eye (or stomach) in New Orleans.

With my drink and my pastries, I wander down a side street that appears to head in the direction of the river and is far less crowded. The city of New Orleans knows how to set a scene. The long walkway that runs along the Mississippi River is one of the prettiest I’ve seen. The sidewalk is dotted with green wrought-iron benches and, instead of the typical metal railing keeping people from falling over the edge, thick, black chains linked through boat-rigging do the job. Behind me for a good portion of the walk is Woldenberg Park with its massive green hill and regular concerts—a welcoming place for locals to have their lunch and tourists to sit down and study their maps. Everything about the park’s river walk is made to be seen and appreciated, but it’s hard not to imagine, just for a second, what it must have been like the day the water rose up over the sidewalks and crashed through the doors of the nearby aquarium. The choppy Mississippi coursing by is a near-constant reminder of when New Orleans was more like the sunken city of Atlantis than the spirited tourist destination it is once again.

I settle down on one of the circular benches and dive into my breakfast while I take in the sights. As I sink my teeth into the first chewy, sweet beignet, the steam organ on the Riverboat Natchez fills the air on the riverbanks with ice-cream-truck music. Nearby laughter blends in with the sounds of the seagulls while the smell of powdered sugar mixes in my nostrils with the warm, salty breeze off the water. My breakfast, the view and the cheery music all breathe energy into me for a busy day of shopping and sightseeing.

My first stop is a place called Kitchen Witch Cookbooks (www.kwcookbooks.com). I actually scouted it out by accident while searching online for New Orleans record stores. Of all the places that seemed interesting, Kitchen Witch became a must-see as soon as I read about it. From 1999-2003, Philipe LaMancusa ran Kitchen Witch from a different, less popular location. After Hurricane Katrina, many store owners packed up and bailed out of town. This enabled Mr. LaMancusa to find his way into a much better location at a much lower cost. Since the previous resident was a music store that lost almost its entire stock when Katrina hit, it only made sense for Kitchen Witch to try to keep the building’s regulars happy. Even though the store shelves are filled with cookbooks—including an extensive local-foods section—record bins still line the back wall for nostalgia’s sake.

Aside from records and cookbooks, the small store is filled with a varied collection of, well, everything. Aprons, pots and pans, chili pepper lights, posters and pictures all litter the walls of Kitchen Witch. Sometimes it’s almost impossible to know if something is actually for sale or just in the store because the owners, Mr. LaMancusa and Debbie Lindsey, just happen to like all the trinkets. Life is “Big Easy” friendly here: As I riffle through a stack of postcards with New Orleans-style recipes on them, Ms. Lindsey tells a regular customer that he’s welcome to just borrow a book. Along with my postcards and a cookbook on Creole slow-cooking, I purchase a bottle of Kitchen Witch’s custom seasoning blend. When Ms. Lindsey rings me up, she asks where I’m from and if I’m in town on this April weekend for the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival. I admit that I am not and tell her I’m an aspiring writer. As a writer herself for New Orleans’ free newspaper, “Where Y’at,” Ms. Lindsey understands my overwhelming curiosity to know as much about New Orleans as possible. She loads me up with free newspapers and recommends that I watch the HBO show, “Treme,” which she says was mostly shot on location and is a perfect portrayal of her city. When she learns I love music, she recommends a visit to the Louisiana Music Factory. It sounds ideal to me, so the Music Factory becomes my next stop.

Flower-friendly balconies in the Garden District. Photo by Deirdre Kaye.

Walking up one street and across a few more lands me in the middle of the Garden District, a neighborhood that is far more residential than the one I was just exploring. When I look up for a street or store sign, I see that the sidewalk is flanked by wrought-iron balconies painted in various neutral hues. Some are still decorated with beads from Mardi Gras, which wrapped up only a few weeks ago. Other balconies have long planters filled with pink, purple, white or red flowers that spill over the brim and run the length of their railings. It makes me wonder if everyone in New Orleans has very green thumbs. The view is lovely, but I hustle my way down the very crowded Decatur Street to the front door of Louisiana Music Factory.

A peek inside has me feeling like I’m late getting there. The store is full of people, mostly middle-aged men, flipping through bins of music that sit on long lines of tables. I squeeze along the aisles and survey the collection of vintage music T-shirts hanging on the walls and browse the cases of DVDs. I sort through a few bins of local music, hoping to find a zydeco or jazz album to bring back home with me. When none of the names look familiar, though, I settle with browsing through pop/rock CDs.

The place is packed, but it is, after all, the weekend of the city’s Jazz & Heritage Festival. I knew this when I rented my car and headed south from Cincinnati. What I didn’t know, though, was just how big of a deal this festival is. I completely underestimated its popularity. With more than 500 musical acts performing on 12 stages, the event routinely draws as many as 400,000 folks to New Orleans. (What was I thinking?)

A comfy nook in the Royal Street Deli in the French Quarter. Photo by Deirdre Kay.

For lunch I grab a burger at Royal Street Deli, and sit at the deli’s bar, sipping on my Coke (in a glass bottle!), chowing down on some of the best fries I’ve ever had, and listening as the waitress chats with the few other people who make their way in off the busy street. Everybody else in here seems to be in town for the Jazz Fest. Suddenly, instead of hating the idea of standing around in dirt and 90-degree afternoon heat, I’m very jealous of these music fans. I’m having a hard time keeping myself from rearranging my entire schedule so that I, too, can partake in the musical awesomeness that is Jazz Fest, but I’ve only got one day to spend in New Orleans, and my itinerary is filling fast.

The temperature is steadily ticking up, too—and it’s only April! I’ve decided it takes a special kind of person to deal with New Orleans heat and, as I’ve come to find out, those special people tend to be folks who have already spent their entire lives in or near the Crescent City, acclimating themselves to the heat. In general, the city’s natives rule around here. Unlike New York or London, where the bartending, waitressing and trendy store-keeping jobs all go to people from “somewhere else,” New Orleans’ jobs tend to be filled with people from nearby. It’s pretty appealing, actually, to see people who love their city so much. Even after being run out of their homes and businesses by storm surges and broken levees, most natives eventually return back to their beloved New Orleans.

The French Market entrance, in the French Quarter. Photo by Deirdre Kaye.

After lunch at the Royal Street Deli, I’m on a mission to get to the French Market. I keep getting distracted, though. There’s a store called Voluptuous Vixen filled with sassy, sexy clothes for women who wear sizes 12 to 28; I’ve got to stop there. Across the street is Trashy Diva, an amazing shoe boutique filled with all sorts of heels I want but would never buy due to my inability to walk without falling, even in flats. Just a skip down the street, I discover Kulture Vulture, a place that appeals to my inner rock star. It’s loaded down with band tees, record totes and Ziggy Stardust bobby pins. As a bonus, there’s a cute guy working behind the counter. I find a really great Johnny Cash shirt under a sign that reads, “Cash for Chicks,” and a cassette-tape change purse—total damage, $33. I don’t even feel guilty when I immediately go into the store next door, Kulture Vulture Kids, and contemplate handing over $20 for a niece-sized Rolling Stones shirt. Instead, I hang it up and scoot on down the street.

Crowds make their way through the French Market. Photo by Deirdre Kaye.

One of my favorite memories from the last time I was in New Orleans was spending hours wandering around the French Market. From hot-sauce stands to fruit markets to anti-BP signs (reminders of another, more recent tragedy for New Orleans—the oil spill), the French Market has absolutely anything you could need and millions of things you never thought you’d want. The first thing I do is buy a massive ear of grilled corn to munch on—hey, I was hungry again, OK?—while I’m wandering around. It may be stifling outside but I find a spot in the shade that’s not too bad. Plus, can you ever go wrong with corn on the cob? It’s impossible not to walk down the packed aisles of the French Market without being accidentally groped by a lost child, brushed against by a tan stranger and stopped short on the heels of another gawking tourist. Add to that all the pretty bags, used vinyl and tiny silver charms that you just have to pick up and admire, and the French Market becomes the best sort of sensory overload.

Marracas, tambourines and bracelets at Mother Africa in the French Market. Photo by Deirdre Kaye.

I recommend making your way through the market more than once. It’s only about three or four blocks long, but there are oodles of goodies crammed into that small, skinny space. My first time through, I eat my corn and watch in silence with my other hand tucked in my back pocket. My second time through is when my wallet comes out and my money starts to disappear. By the time I make it back to the entrance, I’ve acquired beignet mix for my mother, “f*cking hot” hot sauce for my father, two silver charms (a banjo and a guitar) and a can of orange soda. I cross the street and hit the two other shops that aren’t really part of the French Market, but are under the same sort of roof to make them feel like they’re in on the action. My favorite of the two is Mother Africa, where I find beautiful handmade satchels, wooden bracelets, brightly colored beaded necklaces and an assortment of drums and tambourines. My inner hippy emerges when I see the tambourines and I spend 15 minutes fiddling with the wooden and plastic noisemakers before finally deciding to buy a yellow plastic one.

You can always find Mardi Gras accessories in the French Market. Photo by Deirdre Kaye.

By now the sun is almost setting and I’m getting texts from somewhere across town. I came to the city alone, but I have a couple friends who are here for work, and we’re meeting for dinner. Now that they are done with their day’s work, they’re ready for drinks and laughs. I try to convince them to go to Stella. It’s an insanely expensive restaurant featuring “global modern cuisine” that has been influenced by Chef Scott Boswell’s Louisiana roots. The glazed tenderloin and seared Japanese yam on the menu sound tempting to me. More important, though, it’s the restaurant where Nicholas Cage was recently described by a witness to a local newspaper as walking like “a drunken Sasquatch.” That’s history, people!  However, my friends disagree. (Which is probably fine, because I really can’t afford $38 for something called “duck five ways.”)

Instead, we meet up at a place called Carrollton Station Grill. One of my friends read that it has good food, live music and stays open late. Since none of us are partiers, this seems like the perfect escape from the Bourbon Street madness. The restaurant’s exterior looks slightly rundown, which makes me leery as I stroll into the dark interior, but it turns out well. My British friend is tempted by what sounds like a taste of home with the meat pie, while another friend orders the half-pound burger confidently. I opt for a dish dubbed “Mama’s Meatloaf.” During the 13-hour drive to get here the day before, all I ate was McDonald’s. Something that has the word “mama” in it is exactly what I want. Our table full of red meat-eaters was 100 percent satisfied with the food, the music and the beer selection.

Afterward, my friends walk me back to my hotel. I was on a pretty tight budget for this trip and was worried I wouldn’t be able to stay anywhere nice, but I scored an amazingly sweet deal on Priceline.com. At the front desk of the charmingly old Whitney Wyndam, I retrieve my room key from a smiling woman who spoke in broken English. She points to the clock and asks me, “Too much fun, already?” It’s just barely midnight and already my eyes are drooping. Did I have the sort of all-night fun many people have when they come to New Orleans? Maybe not. But did I have enough fun to put me out cold on the hotel’s down pillows at the night’s end? Yes, and fun of any kind, any flavor, is all that matters when you’re in New Orleans.

As I drift off to sleep, my stomach still digesting dinner, I think again about the east side of New Orleans, and how it might never look fully recovered from Hurricane Katrina’s fierce flooding. Everywhere you go around this city, if you listen hard enough, you’ll hear harrowing stories of friends who survived or family members who didn’t. But nothing can squelch what New Orleans always will be. “The Big Easy,” in all its laid-back glory, is still alive and well. It’s a city full of friendly folks who play their good music on sidewalks, take their punches in stride and keep working toward their 5 o’clock threshold, when they can grab their frozen hurricane in a to-go cup and party with the tourists. That’s good enough for me. 

Justin Fuller (above, right) and his "little" Michael at the Krohn Conservatory Butterfly Show in Cincinnati. Photo by Kim Scaff.

As children swarm around the roller-skating rink that swallows the interior of The Fun Factory in Cincinnati, out-maneuvered grown-ups trail behind the wild army of kids, struggling to stay balanced atop the alien, four-wheeled contraptions on their feet. The children aren’t doing much better; in the chaos of uncoordinated legs, clumsy stumbles occasionally result in dramatic thumps on the hard floor. Kids crash and topple over the rink’s ledge, and their adult counterparts hold onto the rails for dear life. Almost everyone looks like amateurs in their rented skates, especially when compared to Justin Fuller and his little brother, Michael. The duo glides along with grace and ease under the disorienting lights and disco balls.

Fuller and Michael orbit the rink at a BBBS event. Photo by Danielle Koval.

Fuller, 23, and Michael, 10, have visited the Fun Factory once before, but they’re here today for an event sponsored by the Cincinnati chapter of Big Brothers Big Sisters, a national nonprofit organization that pairs “littles” (kids aged 8 to 18) with ”bigs” (adults ranging in age from 18 to 70) who serve as positive role models for the youngsters. Big Brothers Big Sisters (BBBS) has been around for more than 100 years, operates in more than 350 communities throughout the United States, and targets children who are raised by single parents, live in poverty or are coping with an incarcerated parent. In 2011, the Cincinnati chapter paired more than 1,311 children with local bigs, and the results are impressive: 99 percent of those children are in school and are substance-abuse free, according to the organization’s follow-up research on its matched pairs. In a city where 30 percent of the population lives in poverty, an organization that reaches out to disadvantaged children can have big impact.

Michael contemplates his winged friend. Photo by Kim Scaff.

Big Brothers Big Sisters offers two types of programs: community-based and site-based, explains Deb Haas, PR and marketing manager for the Cincinnati chapter. Within the community-based program, the bigs and littles schedule their own activities, whether it’s going to a local park, watching a movie or playing video games.  “What we ask from those volunteers is—with as much stability as you can—try to get together once a week,” Haas says. “We have a lot of people that take the kids to college campuses. An incredible number of these kids are the first generation in their family to graduate from high school and go to college.”

Within the site-based program, the bigs and littles have a set schedule and often meet at school.  “We have a lot of young professionals who do this after work [hours],” Haas says. “It appeals to [the busier adults] because it’s one hour a week.”

Michael and Fuller, who participate in the community-based program, aren’t brothers by birth, but they share an undeniable bond. “I guess it depends on the match, but it’s almost like you become family,” Fuller says.  “He’ll come over to my house. He always asks how my mom and brother are doing. I took him and his little brother and sister to church with me on Sunday.”

But Michael’s family faces some real challenges: His father is in jail and his mother lives in Kentucky, so he doesn’t see her often.  He and two of his siblings live with their grandparents, and getting one-on-one time with an adult like Fuller is very valuable for Michael. Fuller is someone he can trust, talk to and look up to.  “I think they just want another role model [for him],” Fuller says about Michael’s grandparents. “They still do a lot of stuff with him, but I know it can be hard [for them] to get out.

Fuller grew up in a single-parent family and says he benefitted from his relationships with adult mentors. Photo by Kim Scaff.

When it comes to benefitting from positive adult mentorship, Fuller can relate. He had a mentor when he attended Walnut Hills High School in Cincinnati, and now he’s inspired to fill that role for another child. “I think a lot of kids just need someone to hang out with or talk to,” Fuller says. “I grew up without a father. So just to have another positive male in my life helped.”

Fuller, a psychology graduate of the College of Mount St. Joseph in Cincinnati, now works for Jewish Vocational Services, an organization that provides educational, vocational and community integration services for people and children with developmental disabilities. “I like working with young people and kids,” Fuller says. “It’s always fun. It’s rewarding.”

When he began volunteering for Big Brothers Big Sisters more than a year ago, Fuller was matched with Michael through the help of a caseworker, who identifies common interests among the bigs and littles to help ensure a successful and positive relationship. “Initially with Big Brothers Big Sisters, they’ll come to your house and make sure you have a good home environment,” Fuller says. “You can pick what age range you want. They’ll call and check in with you and also give you ideas if you can’t think of stuff to do.”

Haas says the organization’s caseworkers play a key role in the matching process and in helping sustain the relationships. “The reason this kind of mentoring works is because it’s long-term and professionally supported by our caseworkers,” she says. “They don’t just match the next volunteer with the next child. The caseworkers ask questions. They ask [the potential bigs] what they like and what types of things they don’t handle well. These kids come from rough backgrounds and conflicts come up.”

Photo by Kim Scaff.

Fuller spends time with Michael at least once a week. He says he and Michael try to attend the monthly BBBS events—like today’s roller-skating outing—but adds that they have no problem being creative and coming up with their own activities. They’ve played video games together, visited the nearby amusement park Kings Island, toured a butterfly show at Cincinnati’s Krohn Conservatory and visited Parky’s Farm, which offers pony rides and plenty of goats, pigs, chickens, horses and sheep to pet. (“We saw some wild turkeys!” Michael excitedly reports.)

They both love sports, so plenty of their outings have been sports-related—ranging from hockey to football to baseball. “[Michael] plays for Walnut Hills so we went to some football games,” Fuller says. “We went to a basketball game [at the College of Mount St. Joseph]. We want to go to a [Cincinnati] Reds game, but we haven’t been there yet.”

When Fuller and Michael get together, fun is always on the agenda. Photo by Kim Scaff.

The two are clearly a good match for each other. “It has been a good experience for me,” Fuller says. “There’s never been a time when he was like, ‘Justin, I didn’t like doing this.’ I learn a lot from him. We always have fun together.”

And for children like Michael, that kind of fun is a mighty good thing—almost as good as having a big brother. 

Have you ever met someone who studied political science or international relations in college or perhaps told you he or she was “into politics”? If so, did you cautiously back away, assuming that this person was a part of the corrupt governmental establishment or a member of some fringe political faction that has a koala bear as its mascot? Was the individual wearing a dapper power suit or a bright campaign T-shirt with his or her favorite candidate’s face plastered on the front? Did you employ your basic techniques of evasion to avoid getting cornered by such a conversationalist because you simply don’t care to talk about politics?

Presumptive Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney during a visit to Cincinnati in March 2012. Photo by Lauren Purkey.

Well, if any of this applies, you’re probably normal for your generation. But just because you don’t get the allure of political drama or don’t care to understand it, there are some things about the American political system that you might want to know–if for no other reason than to impress people at the next party you attend. After all, no one wants to end up being that fool Jay Leno interviews on one of his Jaywalking jaunts, who doesn’t know how many people are in the Senate or what politicians mean when they talk about pork. Wouldn’t it be nice if you didn’t feel compelled to tiptoe around a coffee shop just to avoid any unplanned encounters with someone who actually (gulp!) cares about political events?

Before you lift your quizzical brow in indignation for having to even consider discussing the lowly subject of politics, consider this: If you find yourself mingling with a posse of politicos at some business meeting or social gathering one of these days, you’ll likely want to sound as though you were at least partially awake during your high school government class, right? So—this being an election year and all—we’ve put together a list of seven good-to-know political terms, so you won’t be the person cringing in the corner, looking for an escape hatch.

1. Gerrymandering (also known as “redistricting” to local-government savants)
Gerrymandering is an activity that takes place when a ruling political party is given the opportunity to re-establish district boundaries in its home voting blocs by thoroughly reviewing civilian populations. This is the ideal time for a strategic party whiz (ahem, not to be confused with a whip–see below) to intentionally decide to include only citizens of the same political ideology and partisanship within their electorate to ensure re-election. Meaning: Nancy Pelosi will be a congressperson forever.

2. Chad (not the country or the “Ochocinco” football player; it can be hanging or pregnant)
The chad is that infamous shred of paper that should be expelled when an individual correctly punches his or her ballot card when voting. If the card has been punched and the punchmark is slightly bulging, but not fully pierced, then it’s a “pregnant chad.” If the card is punched and the paper fragment is still holding on by a thread, then we’re talking “hanging chad.” Either of these instances renders the ballot ineffectual, meaning that a single shred of paper could lead to the Supreme Court deciding who the next president will be. (See Florida, 2000.) Thank goodness for the newly christened electronic ballots, and our blissfully chad-free futures.

3. Self-help system (use this term if you want people to think you’re a United Nations liaison)
In the international system, there is no centralized world government shelling out mandates as to how the world should work (though some would say the U.S. has taken on this job). Therefore, civil society operates in a self-help system in which a nation can rely only on itself to maintain its solvency and power. Because the world resides on the principal of anarchy, rugged individualism and faith in one’s own capacity for change are essential. This is the cynical outlook of globalism that leaves everyone looking untrustworthy and suspicious.

4. Caucus (not to be confused with “carcass,” that dead thing lying alongside the highway)
The caucus is a method of primary presidential voting that takes place in the homes, community centers and common spaces in the Midwest of the United States. Constituents gather together to hear the spiel of political wannabes and sometimes have a potluck, dinner party or family-values debate. Caucusing can be as casual or as formal as its participants want it to be, but its focus is rooted in camaraderie and taking pride in the system of democratic republic governance. But beware: These get-togethers are more than likely to be hubs of ideological reinforcement where everyone does and says only what is socially acceptable, and outliers are unwelcome.

5. Filibuster (seriously, this is a real word)
Basically, the filibuster is a method of stalling the inevitable and is used in circumstances when a Senator wholeheartedly despises a law, idea or person. This is that Senator’s opportunity to hold the attention of the Senate floor for however long he or she can speak, regardless of whether or not the topic is relevant to the matter at hand. So, an individual could potentially recite the lyrics to “I’m Sexy and I Know It” over and over and over again, and not be stopped. Strom Thurmond holds the record for the longest filibuster to date, at just over 24 hours of continuous jibber-jabber.

6. Pork (not the other white meat)
Pork—a term that can be used interchangeably with the terms “pork barrel” or “earmark”—is the appropriation of funds from Congress to constituents in order to subsidize the needs of each and every state. Everyone loves pork, especially when a politician gets to take it home to his or her district, share it with constituents and bask in its glory. Pork is often hidden in the nooks and crannies of each and every piece of legislation and can function as a personal favor for electors to win votes on issues that may not otherwise pass without the representative’s support. The more pork, the better, some say, but they ought not forget about the multitudes of outspoken vegetarians out there in the voting public.

7. Whip (not something Indiana Jones uses with great panache)
A whip is the perfect job for the social butterfly of the houses; he or she is the go-to person for each party, whose job is to see if the party has the votes necessary to pass a law. A whip has to be able to charm and bewitch even the most persnickety of congressmen and congresswomen; the party whips are the persuaders of the group who never take no for an answer. With the power of the entire party backing them up, whips might just have the power to steer politicians away from their own personal convictions. 

Photo by Danielle Koval.

OK, so it wasn’t love at first sight. In fact, when I received this new-fangled object, I wasn’t even interested in investing my time or my money in a product that had just hit the market. But there it was on Christmas morning, under the tree: a Barnes & Noble NOOK Tablet. There were no heaping stacks of leatherbound classics, no scandalous paperback political biographies or Jane Austen-wannabe adaptations waiting for me. Just this…. thing.

I had only a vague inclination of its capabilities and thought that taking up with such an attractive contrivance would be akin to turning my back on good old-fashioned books, those close friends that had always been there to comfort me since the first day that I had learned to read.

Our courtship lasted two days; after that, I was hopelessly hooked. Never have I been so easily wooed by a single piece of technology. I knew my life would never be quite the same. After becoming comfortable with the ins and the outs of the little device’s user-friendly anatomy, I began to contemplate why I had ever been so e-reader-phobic. I thought that the NOOKs and Kindles of the world were evil objects that would eradicate the book industry, and my cavalier attitude had prevented me from realizing that their true purpose was to make reading more interactive and accessible, not to close down my favorite bricks-and-mortar or online bookstores.

Barnes & Noble's Nook Tablet

Oh, Nook, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. First, I adore the customization that the NOOK affords me while reading. Although I believe that I now read at a more accelerated pace with my NOOK, this is an ideal device for any reader: slowpokes, speed demons or even casual page-gazers.

Second, if I’m not satisfied with what I see on my screen, I can change it. Not liking the portrait view? I’ll just set my NOOK on its side and the landscape view appears. Getting tired of the bland Times New Roman typeface? There’s a cornucopia of alternatives. Is the font too light or my screen too dim? Both can be adjusted with the click of a button.

Third, if I don’t recognize a particular word, or if some phrase like “through the looking glass” evades my logic, I just highlight it and the definition magically appears, or NOOK will explain its significance to me in traditional Spark Notes fashion.

Fourth, I can still share my books with my friends. Most e-readers have e-share novels so that people can electronically loan, say, “The Hunger Games” or any other feverishly popular novel to a friend, so I never lose the ability to stay up-to-speed with my cronies’ favorite reads.

What I love most of all is that I can still keep my date nights with Charles Dickens. But now I also have the options of lounging around my house with my NOOK in hand, surfing the web, playing “The Game of Life,” listening to Keith Urban on Pandora or watching the latest episode of “Once Upon a Time” on Hulu. Who needs an iPad when my NOOK has Word, PowerPoint and Excel, as well as a plethora of apps that enable me to send personalized greeting cards, play the piano and even plan a trip to jolly old England?

It’s undeniable: I’m a NOOK convert and I’m happy to say that I saw the light—on the screen, of course—and have gone paperless. My NOOK and I go everywhere together now, and I never would have imagined that this digital object would become such an extension of me, as my books once were. Cuddling up with my favorite Penguin Classic, “Pride and Prejudice,” is still just as rewarding of an experience as it used to be, but now I don’t just read about Mr. Darcy, I can see him, too.