Happy Mardi Gras

Today New Orleans rocks...

Jackson Square

(Photo by Mark Hall)

It's Not Too Late To Go South for Mardi Gras

(photo by Bruce Guthrie)

That is if you can make it to Clarendon right there in rebel territory-also known as the commonwealth of Virginia for their own home grown Mardi Gras parade which includes all the right ingredients- beads, live music and floats. Parade rolls at 8 p.m. starting at the corner of Veitch and Wilson and continuing up Wilson Boulevard. Iota has the after party featuring 2 pop bands Tereu Tereu and The Pomegranates- no cover!

Laissez les Bon Temps Roulez

I always get that "do you know what it means to miss New Orleans" feeling right around this time of year because I do. Down in New Orleans the parties and parades are happening now, and you'd be hard pressed not find a King Cake or gumbo hanging around wherever you go. The parades are created by clubs or "Krewes" with mythological names like Muses, Bacchus, Zulu and Rex, and this weekend they'll be rolling most of the day and into the evening. Fantastic floats tower overhead- sometimes double deckers - with costumed people flinging beads, doubloons, toys and cups into the melee. (Despite the prevailing fantasy that girls lift their shirts for beads- which I'm sure does happen near Bourbon Street - in real life the crowds are primarily families -parents with little ones on their shoulders, hands outstretched, and the atmosphere is not tawdry but magical. )

Now I'm getting misty so I will quit here, but if you know what it means or if you want to know- head over to the Surf Club this Sunday afternoon for our local answer to Mardi Gras angst- Little Red and The Renegades Mardi Gras Zydeco Dance Party. The fun starts at 3, and cover is just five bucks. What a deal for a great band and les bon temps.

This Just In From New Orleans

ZULU IS ROLLING!!!!!!!
(Way to go, Callie!)


(Photos mostly by Derek Huston)




down in the quarter...








on


mardi gras day

Happy Mardi Gras Y'all

One thing about D.C.- we don't do much about Mardi Gras here-but that's as good an excuse as any to get out of town which I usually do, but this year I'll have to let memory carry me on this one.
There are a lot of misconceptions about Mardi Gras and a lot of them have to do with beads and breasts, but I'm here to tell you that's just not right.

Waking up on Mardi Gras Day in New Orleans feels just like Christmas morning. Everybody's all excited and wound up, and you never know what you're gonna get. You don't even know who you are going to be-you could dress up like a bird or a cowboy- wear a mask or not. There are no rules. It's the culmination of at least a month of parties and parades. The music on the radio is all about Mardi Gras as soon as you hit Lousiana, and it's a lot better than Christmas carols. King cakes appear- a sort of coffee cake confection buried in sugar the colors of Mardi Gras- purple, gold and green, with a tiny toy baby hidden inside for someone to find. We eat the leftovers for breakfast, and still the baby might not show up for two more days. Boudin, crawfish, red beans and rice and greens- it's all soul food- perhaps the most appropriate name ever come up with to describe nutrition.

The parades don't start; they roll. Get your spot on the neutral ground and prepare to fight for your position or just get lucky as the beads rain down- landing on your out stretched arm like so many horseshoes on a spike. The war stories come later-when and how you caught the best throw, or how a toy alligator was snatched from your kid by some frenzied woman the size of a linebacker, but then there's the guy beside you who saw the whole thing and quietly slipped his catch to your child.
The best throw of all comes from The Zulu parade- featuring the sometimes innocuous- sometimes amazing painted coconuts. But real coconuts, plastic coconuts- what ever they were giving, I was never able to get one.
Then one year I was sitting by the side of the road in the wake of Zulu- trash blowing around me-nothing left but memories and broken beads littering the street. Here comes a lone guy walking up the parade route on his way someplace else. I say Happy Mardi Gras to him, and
he returns the greeting as he passes, but then he turns and says: Where's your coconut then?
I shrug.
And suddenly out of thin air he holds out to me a plastic bag holding the best coconut I've ever seen-it's painted black and all dolled up with glitter hair, a bright red mouth and real plastic eyes outlined in white makeup.


That just made my day, and my Mardi Gras.

Mardi Gras Day. The beautiful thing is you never know what you are going to get or what is going to happen-whether it's a coconut or a flower exchanged for a kiss, or seeing The Indians in full head dress, or a band weaving through the Quarter which stops right next to you playing that New Orleans jazz. New Orleans does its best to keep on rolling even through the on going aftermath of Katrina. My hat goes off to that town. Don't ever let it go.

Everywhere else it's just Tuesday.

And New Orleans

I heard a story about riding the St Charles Streetcar on the radio this morning- one more step back from the abyss New Orleans faced when Katrina wreaked havoc there. The story stopped me in my tracks- just to hear that clacking noise and the whir of the motor was a great thing, but with it comes the stark reality that New Orleans is STILL suffering. Life went upside down for so many people - all over the gulf coast- and I feel compelled to remember they still need help.

A friend sent me this Complicated Life video (above) which I find mesmerizing. Maybe you have to have been there to get it, but to me it was another of a series of unexpected gifts from New Orleans. From the day I first fell for this city over twenty years ago up through that heartbreaking yet restorative Mardi Gras of 2006 (six months to the day after the storm) this town never fails to surprise me- whether it's a stranger kissing your cheek early Mardi Gras morning or the beauty of those ancient live oaks lining the streets. As our country gets swallowed up by chain store after chain store and mass attacks of vapid development, we need places with the character and the cultural strength that is New Orleans more than ever. I think if Louis Armstrong were alive today he wouldn't just be singing do you know what it means to miss New Orleans, but please don't forget New Orleans. Check out The New Orleans Musician's Relief Fund website or NOMRFmyspace page for more images and music and a way to help.

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August 29th

The storm that ate New Orleans is all over the news again, but little is new. It's the grim anniversary of unrelenting anxiety, anguish and devastation that should be somewhat over by now, but it takes these significant dates to turn our heads -to remind us it's far from finished.
Last Sunday I saw our friends who live in New Orleans, Derek Huston and Macon Fry, up here at a party in Virginia. Derek's family evacuated, and ended up starting a branch of their school while they were gone. Macon had to go as well. The band Derek was in scattered, and not all could return. Fortunately their houses were spared, and spared again when an under reported tornado ripped through the neighborhood a year or so later, but, of course, an incomprehensible number of people were not so lucky.

I'm overly fond of New Orleans as every year, including the year after Katrina, the Hustons have made room for our family to crash with them for Mardi Gras. (In the past that's meant six kids under one roof.) A lot of people think Bourbon Street= New Orleans. (As if D.C. is just Pennsylvania Avenue) Some are a bit taken aback when I tell them we take our children there.
Others don't understand how Mardi Gras could carry on after the storm. Those that live there know why-that it's an affirmation of life, almost as necessary as breathing. It's not just a party or parades, but a season sublime. And it's traditions of joy that makes that city tick-the pageantry, the abundant music and the amazing food. As we wander about in our costumes, laughing at the guys dressed as Elvis that just walked by, Derek likes to say "Everywhere else- it's just Tuesday."
New Orleans, like an endangered species, still critically needs help to survive. The suicide rate there is on the rise. How sad is that?
Besides everywhere else-it's just NOT New Orleans.