While we New Orleanians certainly can be a hide-bound, stick-with-tradition bunch, one beloved old tradition seems to be slipping a little, if not actually fading. The custom of visiting and decorating the graves of the beloved dead, the "ancestors," for All Saints Day just doesn't seem as big a deal as it once was. (Big Man says I have to get over it, that all traditions evolve and some of them even die off, but this was sad to me.)
There was time, pre-Katrina and before, when All Saints Day was a school holiday, and when you'd arrive at the cemetery, there'd be crowds of people. There'd even be some kind of a vendor outside the gates, selling hot dogs or cotton candy. There would be almost a strange carnival-like atmosphere, as folks arrived by the carload, arms laden with potted chrysanthemums to adorn the graves of loved ones. When I used to make the trip to the family tomb at St. Vincent's Cemetery in the Upper Ninth Ward with my father and my son, back about 15-20 years ago, we would meet people from his old neighborhood around Bunny Friend Playground, and there would be a lot of hugging and back-slapping and "How the heck are ya?" talk.
Back in those days, it was supremely easy to obtain your mums for the cemetery trip, because every large grocery store in town had potted mums to sell. Some even set up tents in the parking lot to sell you the mums the easiest way possible. And near almost every cemetery, there'd be a large or small florist, providing flowers for those who arrived without. It's sure not like that anymore!
Big Man and I had a hell of a time finding mums, and wasted a considerable amount of time and gas looking. And when we got to the cemeteries that were on our list, we were often the only people there. The graves at Cypress Grove, through the giant neo-Egyptian pylons of the entrance, where we visited the founding minister of our church from the 1800s, were sadly neglected. We saw only tourists with maps and cameras, no families. A few tombs had fresh roses, but it was a poor showing.
At Lakelawn, where we honored Louis Prima with a bouquet (and thanked him for, in a way, bringing us together), we did see a small family gathering in front of the Sons of Italy group tomb, with folding chairs like they were going to stay for a while. That did my heart good -- that was more like it! We rolled down the car windows and wished them a Happy All Saints and they did the same to us. Before we drove away, we peeked into the Hyams tomb with the superb sculpture of the angel prostrate with grief, with the blue light from the back stained glass window pouring down. I pushed my iPhone through the gap in the door, and took what I think is a very good picture. (The door was locked and chained, while it had been open last year; apparently -- sadly! -- there had been some vandalism.)
When we arrived at St. Louis No. 1, a good 5 or more minutes ahead of scheduled closing time, we found the gates chained shut, with frantic tourists trapped inside. They closed the cemetery early on All Saints Day, for heaven's sake! I couldn't get over it, and the thought of leaving there without putting our hard-won floral tributes on the graves of 19th century Voodoo Queen Marie Laveau and New Orleans's first black mayor (and my friend) Dutch Morial had me practically beside myself. I tried to thrust the bouquets toward the tourists inside, begging them to put them on Dutch and the Lady's graves -- and they disclaimed all knowledge of these two famous side-by-side tombs. I nearly wept with frustration.
The cemetery caretaker showed up with a key, to let the tourists out, and I begged to go in, just for a minute, to complete my errand. He relented, reluctantly, and I slipped past him, nearly running to their tombs (which, after all, are close to the entrance). I laid a bouquet at Dutch's grave and whispered to him that while the Landrieu family were not his personal favorites, I still thought Mitch was doing a good job as mayor. Then I made a few steps to the right and put the flowers at the base of the Lady's tomb. I did not have time to make the ritual circuit around the tomb, or make any X's (and anyway, I had no requests to make, only gratitude), so I just laid my head on her marker and made silent thanks for past favors granted, and for our life in New Orleans. Big Man took his hat off, and placed his hand on the side of the tomb, and then we kept our promise and left, thanking the caretaker on our way out. (But really, why was he locking up so early on ALL SAINTS DAY??)
That left 2 cemeteries to go, and no time to do it, so we resolved to complete the ritual on All Souls. Of course, then it had to rain on All Souls, so we did those last 2 in the drizzle. First, we headed to my father's family tomb at St. Vincent's. It seemed to me that the condition of the cemetery had not improved since last year -- there was still a LOT of tombs needing repair. But what did make me happy was that there were many many bouquets and pots of mums in that cemetery. At some point, possibly yesterday, there had been quite a few families there. I was sorry to have missed them, but felt good about their showing up.
Our last stop was Holt Cemetery, the old potter's field behind City Park, to leave flowers for Buddy Bolden, the city's first innovative, famous cornet player. The rain was falling pretty hard by now, so Big Man held the big golf umbrella over me as I arranged the flowers in the glass vase on the ledge of the granite monument for King Bolden. (Readers of this Blog may remember that Bolden's actual grave has been lost and a group of fans a few years before Katrina paid for a large granite memorial a few yards from the entrance, just on the shell driveway.) Also left on Buddy's monument were a handful of jujube candy, and leopard-print key, and another bouquet, sans vase. We stood by as the rain poured, and thanked Buddy for the music and assured him he was remembered. We had to follow the shell drive all the way around to get out, and noticed lots of decorations and loving attention to the graves. Interesting that here at Holt it seems the traditions were being observed.
There was no point being that close to the original Bud's Broiler without eating, so we ended our All Saints/Our Souls ritual there.
No comments:
Post a Comment