Last Saturday night was the first parade of Carnival, the raucous and rowdy Krewe du Vieux. (They're bawdy too -- local TV promoted the parade while warning the unwary of the nature of the satire and costuming. Channel 6 went so far as to advise viewers that the parade was not suitable for children. Didn't matter -- there were New Orleanians in attendance with kids in tow. My dad would have done the same.)
In what was both a tremendous coup and a fantastic honor, my spouse Big Man, in town for his first Krewe du Vieux, was asked by a historic brass band (formerly headed by the man who until recently was the city's oldest jazz musician) to march with them. We dutifully headed off Saturday afternoon to the justly-renowned Meyer the Hatter shop (where we were extravagantly greeted by one of the scions of the Meyer hat dynasty) to purchase a traditional white jazz hat for this very purpose.
(I am amazed and thrilled that the very first year we come home to belle NOLA, it turns out that Big Man gets a gig playing 5 nights a week when many musicians are finding it hard to get work, and on top of that, to walk into town and hook up with one of the oldest and most respected brass bands. It must mean that we are both supposed to be here. Just recently, a new musician friend asked Big Man if it had been difficult to get his wife -- meaning ME! -- to move to New Orleans. Big Man didn't get into all our details, he just said drily, "No, not really.")
I attended the parade with two old friends, one of whom was still celebrating his 60th birthday -- which had officially occurred the day before, but this being New Orleans, we had to keep on going with the festivities. This was my first time seeing Krewe du Vieux in 15 years -- since the year I moved away from New Orleans to begin my ministry in Tennessee. In the manner of New Orleans Carnival, some things had changed a lot and some things had not changed at all.
What had not changed was the Krewe's biting and often hilarious satire of current events (usually but not always local in origin), almost always expressed in sexual and/or scatological terms. As I had remembered, there were a lot of heaving bosoms in tight bustiers or corsets (despite the biting wind!), and lots of flailing phallic symbols and stand-ins, as parts of costumes and decorating the floats.
A couple of things had changed -- floats were MUCH more elaborate than I remembered from the past, and many had animation of some kind (moving parts, twirling wheels, blowing bubbles, etc.). Also, the marchers (members and hangers-on of the various subkrewes that make up Krewe du Vieux) had many more throws than in years past. A lot of the throws were themed, and others referenced old-time (long-lost) "classic Carnival." For example, I got 4 pairs of lovely GLASS beads, which, believe you me, I'll be wearing, and not just during Carnival.
The theme throws were well thought out and very funny. The members of Krewe du Jieux (pronounced "jew" of course) were carefully handing out to favored parade-goers handsomely decorated and painted bagels. These were much sought-after, and I managed to get one. On close examination, the trinket turned out to be an actual, real bagel, painted, sequined, jeweled, and glittered. I think I'll have to spray it good with polyurethane or something to preserve it, and keep it from molding. (I remember a Zulu coconut I got one year that not been properly drilled and dried out and after a while it developed a memorable Smell that required me to do something almost unheard-of for a coveted Zulu coconut -- I actually had to THROW IT AWAY!) By the way, Krewe du Jieux is not the only Jewish group in the parade -- there's also Krewe du Mishigas (which means craziness in Yiddish, although it is alternate/bad? spelling), whose theme this year was warding off the evil eye. Their costumes with giant evil eyes on their heads reminded me of our family group costumes (created by my mother) way back in the day with big eyes on our heads to represent One-Eyed, One-Horned, Flying Purple People Eaters.
Krewe du Vieux's theme this year was "Magical Misery Tour" and apparently all the subkrewes were asked to stick, more or less closely, to using Beatle songs. As always, puns were the order of the night and everything pointed back to goings-on in the city. The mostly-absent mayor was lampooned as "Nowhere Man." The Krewe poked the Road Home program with "You Never Give Me My Money" and contractors dumping piles of debris everywhere got "Why Don't We Put It in the Road." The U.S. Congress -- being of so little help to the region after Katrina -- were deemed "Fools on the Hill" (of course). Everyone trying to rebuild their homes and lives got "All We Need Is Cash" as their appropriate theme song. And so on and on, ad hysterium. (Go to http://www.kreweduvieux.org to read all about it yourself. I'd create a link, but I can't seem to get that darn function working right now!)
Senator David Vitter came in for some unrelenting and well-deserved drubbing for his escapades with prostitutes, and there was, almost predictably, a whole group of marchers dressed as the hamburger-chain mascot Wendy, in honor of the local professional gal with Vitter in her address book and speed-dial.
With all the secrecy that traditionally surrounds Carnival preparations and themes and costumes, even in Krewe du Vieux, it seems that at least 4 of the subkrewes had settled on some version of "Sergeant Pepper" as their theme. There was (naturally) "Senator Vitter's Lonely Whore's Club Band" and for former DA Eddie Jordan, who resigned under pressure for firing every single white employee of the DA's office, there was "Sergeant Eddie's Only Honkies Banned." There was also a "Sergeant Pecker's" -- and we all would have been disappointed if there hadn't.
One subkrewe, the Krewe of PAN, touched my heart with their unusual literary theme, an evocation of 19th century New Orleans writer Lafcadio Hearn, using the same quote that I have quoted in 2 recent sermons about recovery in New Orleans, the one that ends, "But it is better to live here in sackcloth and ashes than to own the whole state of Ohio." The members wore "sacred seersucker" robes as costumes, and flaunted the "sacred fleur de lis." There were references to the peculiar and beloved New Orleans patois ("your mama an' 'em," ) and celebrations of our Creole and Cajun food, liberally seasoned with the "Holy Trinity" (to "allay'all" outsiders, that's onions, bell pepper, and celery -- vital necessities for our kind of cooking). There was more, lots more, but you get the picture. While PAN did not exactly hew to the Beatles-song theme, they were touching and emotional and true to our beloved, wounded-but-wonderful NOLA.
By moving around the Marigny just a little bit, I managed to see the parade 3 times (two of those times, I broke in to kiss Big Man!), and each time it went by, it got a little crazier, a little more chaotic, a little more, shall we say, enhanced by various substances. Despite the cold weather, a good time was had by all. It was a fitting start to the Carnival season.
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