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| Ziggy & Jackson Square |
Okay, folks, it's true; I'm sitting in a very well air-conditioned New Orleans hotel room. It's equally true that Ziggy and I once aspired to having a pied-à-terre here, a sorta bolt-hole for this writer to hide out in when Minnesnowta winters became oppressive. I dragged him down here and he fell in love with the place. BIG time. We took a second trip down the year-of-empty-nesting, and even got as far as working with a realtor when Katrina hit and the $200K flats we liked and were miraculously dry were suddenly listing at over $500K. Needless to say, we demurred. But I never relinquished the secret hope that one day I would spend a winter writing down here. This is the first time I've been back since then.
It took a family wedding to get me to come back, and while the decision was made with to spend a few extra days in the Big Easy, I planned that one of those days would be just mine to catch up with a couple of old friends and wander around by myself. (That day was today. But more about that in a bit.) Wandering is good. Unstructured time is good. Admitting you can do this on your own is the best.
The wedding was an amazing event. The weather was perfect for an outdoor ceremony at a venue on St. Charles Avenue. But what happened after the ceremony was a gas! Complete with a Second Line parade stopping traffic on St. Charles! Cops help back the car. People came out on the balconies to wave white handkerchiefs and napkins as we went buy. A handsome stranger guest dropped a string of beads around my neck and told me it made me "extra lovely." Oh, to be young and flirty! Nothing says Naw'lins like a brass band wedding parade in the middle of a busy street. And it looked a whole lot like no one in the cars objected to the joyousness.
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| O.B.E Warrant of Appointment for Ringo
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The morning-after brunch was held at my cousins' house. They bought Musee Rochon, and did significant restoration to the home of Rosette Rochon, a free woman of color , who purchased the land from the Barony De Marigny in 1805. Rochon, one of the wealthiest women in New Orleans, was a merchant who owned and operated corner stores. But it's how she got there that is la grande aventure. The house is amazing....right down to the bright red fridge in the kitchen. But seeing my cousin's study in person was definitely a highlight of the trip. He is a collector of both political and music memoriablia. I could've spend hours in there looking at everything on the walls. I was enchanted. Besides which, were bloody Marys, mimosas, and a food truck with beignets and chicory coffee from....nu? who else?...Cafe du Monde.
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| photo courtesy of E. Buchbinder |
Getting to see most of my generation of cousins (my big bro included) is a rare treat. We are not able to all convene these days, but the missing few were duly noted and significantly missed. And I had the even rarer treat of seeing many of the next gen cousins, one of whom was the bride. They are a lovely bunch who laugh easily with each other. I know my mom, my aunts, and my grandmother would be relieved to know there are ties that still do bind.
I rarely travel without a schedule to keep, so I was excited about having some alone time. My first stop was to visit my old friend Oscar Donahue in the French Market. I encountered him in 1999, when my friend Wendy B took me along on a "fam" trip to New Orleans. It was the weekend Harrah's opened their very fancy casino on Canal Street. Oscar of New Orleans was (and still is) in the French Market and I fell in love with his whimiscal art at first sight. I bought a frog pin from him...a pin he would replace several times because I am so hard his delicate work. We corresponded on AOL, and over the years, he not only sent me stuff, I had friend heading to NOLA with instructions to find him and buy another frog! The one I wear now is dated 2018! Oscar is just one of my favorite people on the planet. His sense of whimsy and wonder makes everyone and anyone he encounters smile. I have several of his other pieces, bought two more. He made a frog magnet for the fridge.Oscar claims he's gonna retire soon; that's a bit of a scary thought. I rely on people going on forever. I'd best be kinder to my frogs! Go visit him in the market while he's still there. Tell him Susan-of-the-Minnesota-frogs sent you. You'll walk away with a joyous grin.
Since I didn't make it minyan this week, I availed myself of the noon mass at the Cathedral-Basilica of Saint Louis, King of France. I sat in the back and just observed. We get better attendance. Not kidding. And no, I did not count myself. I was with an old friend who did take communion, and she was the one who pointed out "huh; no minyan." I have always like churches. I like the art, I like the silence, I like the hush-ness of the space. Granted, some of the statuary usually freaks me out, but St. Louis doesn't have that much. It's rather simple for such a grand place. I'm glad I went, though; makes me appreciate what I have at home.
Tomorrow, I will fly home. Then it's back to my usual whining and moaning.
The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week
No trip to The Big Easy is complete without
Not kidding.
DO NOT MISS.
