Louisiana Cultural Vistas - Winter 2005-2006 - (Page 75)

A New Orleanian begins cleanup of his flooded home. But the traditions other people expect us to have and the ones we love to tell of ourselves are those of Mardi Gras: The last float of Babylon that your cousin always rode on. The place you always put up the ladders for Endymion. The potato salad Uncle Buck always whipped up only once a year, the afternoon of Mid-City. Your brother and his wife dressing like Fred and Wilma every Mardi Gras. That’s how we celebrated Mardi Gras. We were dismissive when others tried to celebrate it without quite knowing how, like foreigners first trying to do the steps of a folk dance. We were dismissive, but another part of us was proud that we know such a dance. Traditionally, we taught the steps to newcomers. The tradition is not a singular thing but is carried along piecemeal, with this one and that one and even that unlikely one over there. We are all carrying some of it with us as we scatter like ants from a footfall, some to Florida or California, Minnesota or Arizona, Texas or even Baton Rouge. Each a piece. If only you will bring it back again. Back home where it belongs. He shook his head to get rid of some of the thoughts. This is the longest day of my life, he remembered. The same waters that erased your individual history back there will float you into the future textbooks en masse. One who lived through the Flood of ’05. He shuffled toward a cluster of souls being bossed by some potentates of the town, gendarmes and councilors, super-numeraries exalted by the day. People fluttering without accomplishment, like a caged quail. “Okay, when these pull up, get in” said a captain hiding behind sunglasses and pointing at some deuce-and-a-halfs with desert camoflauge. “Where they headed?” The captain thought about not answering and then just said “Superdome.” He considered only a second and asked: “What else you got?” Like a kid asking what flavors at a sno-ball stand. The captain straightened his sunglasses on his nose and said in his best captain’s voice: “If you don’t get into one of these trucks, mister, then you’ll spend the night right here because this is the last detail of trucks tonight.” He shrugged and turned away. As the last truck rolled away, he saw the faces of those Superdome enlistees and they all wore a grimace. He waved sadly. A slab of cardboard made a perfect spot to sit on the grass under the overpass. He pretended smoking an imaginary cigarette and thought: Well, you’ve made the history books at last. The same waters that erased your individual history back there will float you into the future textbooks en masse. One who lived through the flood of ’05. Lived through and then what? This may not be the very worst history has to offer, but will have to do until something worse comes along. We are all prophets of another’s present, our future to become another’s past. Winter 2005-06/LOUISIANA CULTURAL VISTAS 75 In the boom of silence, most people weren’t talking. Words had simply not caught up to deeds. He directed his eyes to particulars: An old man with a sullen suitcase of many journeys, blue when new. A tousled woman with a tiny travesty of a pillow. Did they have room to take along some tradition? We are a people of tradition. We have traditional ways to deal with the heat, traditional recipes for redfish couvillion, traditionally favorite novenas.

Table of Contents Feed for the Digital Edition of Louisiana Cultural Vistas - Winter 2005-2006

Louisiana Cultural Vistas - Winter 2005 Contents Letters Editor’s Column Louisiana Endowment for the Humanities Louisiana State Museum After Katrina: “It’s time somebody woke us us up.” Missing New Orleans On Perilous Ground The Buildings of Louisiana (Architectural History by Karen Kingsley) Historic New Orleans Collection Louisiana Association of Museums Back to New Orleans Diary of a Displaced Person Jazz Notes (Music History by Bruce Raeburn) Cradle of the Stars The Terrible and the Brave Bookstand (Book Review by Thomas Uskali) Sound Advice (Music Review by Ben Sandmel) Forum (Commentary by James Lee Burke)

Louisiana Cultural Vistas - Winter 2005-2006

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