Changing Jobs, Moving Cities, Coming ‘Home’
Anyone in academia will tell you that relocating your lab is a big decision, a big deal, and a big undertaking. There are experiments to finish, reagents to use-up, knowledge to transfer, stuff to give away, things to box up, and farewells to be had. Now, layer on packing up your laboratory and life into a moving truck mid-pandemic and driving 1500 miles to the gulf coast during hurricane season and you will have some sense of the chaos of my most recent experience. Needless to say, these past few months have been … interesting.
Yet, even in the era of COVID19, people changing jobs is still commonplace and the reasons for moving between institutions can be as diverse as the research topics of the scientists making the moves. People move for all kids of reasons, … new resources, new opportunities, new sources of funding, and countless others. I had many professional reasons for accepting an offer to work as an Assistant Professor in the Clinical Neuroscience Research Center at Tulane University. But the one I will write about here is a personal one because as it turns out, I have a long history with Tulane University and the “Big Easy” runs in my blood. So saying yes to this opportunity was more than just about taking advantage of a good job opportunity and setting off on my own professionally; it was about coming home.
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As I navigated this major career transition, my thoughts turned often to my grandmother, Vege. She lived a long and full life until her death at 94 in the days following a stroke she suffered the night after she finished knitting a welcome blanket for her 8th great-grandchild. She was born Edvige Nelson in New Orleans in 1919, at a time when all the street lights were gas lamps, when the horse-drawn carriages plodding though the French Quarter weren’t just for show but in fact were the only way to get around, when Canal street smelled of imported coffee and bananas rather than beer and sweaty tourists, and when the only way to escape the heat of the day was while sipping a sweet tea on the porch while watching the street cars go by.
Vege was one of 9 surviving children born to her father William James Nelson and her mother, Louise Fortier. Louise descended from two prominent New Orleans families**. On her father’s side father was Amedee Fortier, a farmer and property-owner from a long line of Fortiers whose prescence in the region began with the founding of the city of New Orleans itself (the land deeds given to the family were signed by Emperor Napoleon in 1776). On her mother’s side were the influential Soniats, a French family whose legacy could be traced as far back as a medieval castle gifted to the Soniat Du Fossat family by the King of France at that time as a gift for the patriarch’s sacrifice during the Crusades.
Engler Family Photos from 1880s to 1940s (from top left to bottom right): Nelson family including my Grandma Vege as a child and her parents William Nelson and Louise Fortier circa 1930s, the Belcastle in France awarded to the Soniat family, Alcee Fortier circa 1880s, a sample course bulletin from the Tulane School of Dentistry where Dr. Eugene Fortier taught courses circa 1920s, the Fortier family circa 1890s, Rit and Lucien Fortier circa 1940s, New Orleans Medical and Surgical Journal where Dr. Lucien Fortier published scientific work circa 1920s.
Notable among this family tree is Alcee Fortier. Alcee served as a professor of Romance Languages with expertise in French and its various regional dialects such as Creole, Arcadian, and Islenos; he was one of the first faculty members at the newly established Tulane University. There is even a building on Tulane’s uptown campus named for him.
Continuing the Tulane legacy, in the 1920’s, Grandma Vege’s ‘Uncle Mac’ (Dr. Eugene Fortier) worked as a Tulane faculty member in the School of Dentistry and taught several courses. In fact, he was noted for his pioneering work in developing surgical interventions for pyorrheal (periodontal) diseases. He would later go on to suffer a stroke that left his left side paralyzed but spared his faculties so that he could still tell stories of the family and his childhood at the Fortier Plantation.
His brother, ‘Uncle Rit’ (Dr. Lucien Fortier) was educated at Tulane University where he earned degrees in Pharmacy and Radiology. Following his training, he served as a surgeon in the medical corps in Limoges, France during World War I. He returned to New Orleans to become one of the first radiologists in the region, operating a successful radiology clinic and publishing in medical journals regularly.
And then there is Grandma Vege. She lived through the Great Depression with her parents and siblings in a little house off of the oak tree-lined Carrolton Ave. As a young woman, she worked as a technician at her uncle Rit’s radiology clinic to help support the family. She was in her early 20’s when her mother Louise opened up the family home to board armed service personnel. As a (purposeful) result, Vege met my grandfather, Frank Engler, a young army staff sergeant stationed in New Orleans. Setting aside Louise’s outdated match-making approach, Vege and Frank were madly in love, a lasting close connection that was evident even in my memories of them together decades later. They married within months and spent the next several stressful years apart while Grandpa Frank served oversees during World War II. And as soon as he arrived home, Vege, Frank, and their five sons (my dad was the middle child) settled in what was at the time a remote, undeveloped, and therefore cheap coastal community of Point Dume, Malibu in sunny southern California.
Engler Family Photos 1940s to Today (from top left to bottom right) - Grandma Vege and Grandpa Frank on their wedding day circa 1940s, Vege awaiting love letters from Frank while he was deployed oversees during the world war circa 1940s, Frank Vege and their five boys including my dad circa 1950s, the Malibu house where they lived for 50+ years circa 1960s, Grandma Vege with one of her grandkids circa 1970s, family gathering outside enjoying the idealic coastal climate circa 1980s, Grandma Vege and Grandpa Frank surrounded by all of their grandchildren at their 50th wedding anniversary circa 1990s, Grandma Vege and I enjoying the local pool circa 2000s.
And there they lived, next door neighbors for nearly 60 years to Vege’s younger sister, Mary, and her husband, Arnold Engler, my grandfather’s half-brother (two half-brothers married two sisters). This modest country house, with the sounds of the seagulls squawking overhead, the feel of the refreshing salty mist on the afternoon breeze, and the warmth of all the big family gatherings are where my memories of Vege begin. At these gatherings, I consistently remember a house full of people. My grandfather and uncles would watch football and mix sazaracs in the den and my aunts would chat over petite quiche in the dining room while Vege would be in the kitchen, looking out onto the two acre backyard where the grandkids, me among them, roamed free. These gatherings were a little bit chaotic, very crowded, and always loud but this is how she wanted it and how I remember her fondly.
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When I think of Vege now, I remember her smile, her hospitality, and her genuinely happy outlook, even as she faced challenges and transitions in her own life. Just as leaving most of her family behind in the bayou to start a new life in California with her husband, moving to New Orleans for my family and I wasn’t easy. But even the short time I have lived in New Orleans has helped me to feel close to Grandma Vege again; this move is allowing me to know another side of her, one I only got glimpses of while she was alive when I listened to her read Cajun stories with her beautiful drawl or savored her red beans and rice. So, despite the challenges, the stress, and the uncertainty that comes with any move, I had to say yes to this opportunity.
And even more so, moving to New Orleans provides an opportunity for my daughter to know her great grandmother. That’s because that new baby Vege was knitting a quilt for, born just days before she died, is my daughter. Though they never met in life, I have to hope that by bringing my child to the historic Big Easy, to ride the same street cars, to appreciate the same foods, to grow up in the same place as Vege did 100 years ago, we are in part bringing her back home to her own family history, back to a place where she might know her great-grandmother, and back to where she was meant to be all along.
The Engler-Chiurazzi family on their first day making their new ‘home’ the historic French Quarter of New Orleans, 100 years after Vege’s time.
**Given the Fortier and Soniat family’s occupancy of properties such as the Petite Versailles estate as well as the former Orange Grove plantation in Jefferson Parish (which now serves as the present day site of the Cytec Industries Fortier Plant), and their sordid history as slave owners, though this practice was accepted at the time, this history is one that I have had to, and continue, to reckon with as a descendent beneficiary of systemic exploitation and racism that harmed so many generations of African American people. Though I can’t change the past actions of my ancestors, I can and do seek opportunities to improve our collective future for people from all backgrounds; please visit the Service tab to read about some of these efforts and learn about how you can help.