Big Man is generally off on Sunday nights, but when he was called and asked to sub for another trumpet player at the regular Sunday evening Big Band Night at a large reception hall near Causeway, he jumped at it -- and not just 'cause we need the money. He loves playing those classic tunes, and he knew the gig would help polish up his reading chops.
I decided to go, both to "spend time" with Big Man (kind of relative since he'd be on stage for most of it) and to check out the scene for myself. I don't always get a full report on some of Big Man's more interesting gigs, since some of the time his head is burrowed in an unfamiliar band book and he can't pay attention to whatever else is going in around the band. (Like, he played last week at the Krewe of Thoth ball, and I barely could pry the parade theme -- "Thoth Goes to College" -- out of him.) So I wanted to see for myself, and possibly get to report to my faithful readers (if any of y'all are left).
Big Man dressed in the standard tuxedo, and I just wore what I had put on that morning to preach in (under my robe, of course), which I figured was good enough. But it almost wasn't. Turns out that the Big Band Night is quite the thing with the over-65 set, and the women especially dress up in a major way. Several of these older ladies were in formals, and most were in fancy cocktail attire. The men were in suits and ties, or at least sport coats and ties. God bless that generation! They know what's proper for a night of dancing to the good ol' music (which of course to them is the music of their youth and prime, kind of like how I feel about old New Orleans R&B and the Beatles and Motown).
The band IS indeed big, and Big Man's place was as third trumpet. There were also multiple 'bones and saxes, and a big rhythm section. Most of the band was older than Big Man, but some were just around our age. Among the audience, I was quite clearly the youngest person. (And without trying, became something of a draw, as several old gentlemen made their way to the far corner where I had established myself, hoping to be unobtrusive and unnoticed, and asked me to dance. But I only danced with Big Man, who got genially shoved from the stage about three times by the lead trumpeter, who said, "Oh go dance with your wife." But I guess I could have been the Belle of the Ball had I been so inclined.)
It was really touching to see these old couples, some looking pretty infirm, making their way around the dance floor. (I noticed the band kept all the selections pretty short, verse-chorus-verse-end, in deference to the capabilities of the attendees.) Some of the dancers had some pretty sharp moves, others just kind of shuffled around, but it was so clear how much they were enjoying themselves, how much it meant to them. It was really sweet to see some of those old couples, apparently married forever, still so devoted to each other. A few tables were celebrating birthdays, and cake was shared with the band members at the break.
I had figured Big Man would get no solos as third trumpet, but it turns out that since the lead trumpeter knows Big Man from his playing with the Bobby Lonero Band, he pitched him a few solos. On one, Big Man blew the roof off the place with this amazing drawn-out high A. Hot stuff!
The whole thing was over by 10 pm, which I assumed was actually *after* the usual bed-time of most of the dancers. On the way home, Big Man confessed it was so much fun he'd do that gig for free (oops, don't tell anyone!).
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Krewe du Vieux
It was the warmest Krewe du Vieux in years and years. As we readied ourselves for the procession (KDV being more of a "march" than an actual "parade"), we spoke of previous nights in bitter cold, eyes watering, feet turned to blocks of ice, as we waited for KDV to come by as the cold wind blew. (And of course I remembered nights at my late friend Russ's house, so close to the route, and the laughter and re-living of the satiric "floats" in Russ's warm living room.)
Since KDV is wildly popular -- with some proclaiming it their "favorite parade" though really I cannot see how that could be true -- I planned to avoid trying to find a scarce parking space by riding with my sister L and her husband. But unknown to L, the friends they were riding with had *also* promised rides to other friends. Thus it was on Saturday night that I found myself squeezed into an SUV with *8* other adults, and none of us skinny. Being so close together, we were a little hilarious in our piling in and our piling out, and more than one reference was made to circus clowns exiting a toy car.
A parking place was being held for us in front of the Vieux Carré apartment being leased by L's friends from Chicago (he's a builder who is bidding on the contract for the new Orleans Parish prison, which is kind of ironic since his brother is a well-known defense attorney in town). The apartment -- it's a house, really -- is on St. Phillip, a few blocks from Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop, the historic old piano bar on Bourbon. The spot was held by L's friends parking their car in it, and then on spotting our arrival, moving their car to their rented gated parking lot. This being duly accomplished, we were given a tour of the house.
OMG it was gorgeous. The main house had been a traditional camelback double, but it had been opened up as a single, creating a large living-dining area with shuttered French doors all around. One of the original archways, that had been between the double parlors on each side, had been retained as a frame for the stairway to the loft area to the right. To the left was a sunken kitchen with bright blue ceramic tiles on the countertops and backsplash; through the kitchen on the right was a nice size en suite bedroom. Straight through the kitchen, through another French door, was the brick courtyard with comfortable patio furniture, a beer keg, a propane barbecue, and a small outdoor refrigerator.
On the other side of the courtyard was the old slave quarters that had been made into a guesthouse (rented by an employee of L's friends). The first level had an attractive if small living area open to the modern kitchen with a high counter for dining, with French doors facing the courtyard straight across. A rather steep staircase (don't try this while drunk!) led to a bedroom-sitting area, and a queer little bathroom on two levels, with the bathtub/shower being tiled in custom New Orleans-themed tiles (beautiful!). Across the whole floor was a balcony accessed by more French doors.
After oohing and aahing over the courtyard and guesthouse, we went back in to explore the upstairs area of the main house. The original camelback had been expanded by opening up the attic to the sloped roof, to create a good size sitting room with a full bath off it, and then up a few stairs to the large master bedroom area, with a loft-like view into the kitchen below from the stairs.
In case the reader, like me, is curious over what such a lovely living space in the French Quarter costs, I have to say I don't know for sure -- and certainly couldn't ask. But I do know that the couple pointed out a different apartment they had seen on their search, that they hadn't liked as much, and said in passing that the rejected apartment was $3500 per month. So that gives you an idea.
Anyway, it's a perfect spot for marshaling forces for a look at KDV -- not to mention a great place for Mardi Gras refueling!
KDV's ostensible theme this year was "25 Years Wasted" as it is their anniversary year, but of course, none of the subkrewes has the least responsibility to act on the overall theme. Each of the subkrewes goes with its own theme, and as you can imagine, these range widely. (For any of your readers out there who are not familiar with KDV, first, I am SO sorry for you, and second, you can read more at their website: )
Well, it was wild and woolly, with lots of genitalia made out of foam and fake fur, and lots and lots of skewering of local and national leaders. (The very first marching group, Krewe of L.E.W.D., proclaimed a new military policy of "Do Ass, Do Tail" and had a papier maché sculpture of a gay cowboy riding a donkey with the Commander-in-Chief's face.) The BP Oil Spill was attacked with biting sarcasm by several groups (C.R.U.D.E. titled its theme "New Oilins," Meshugge declared that "God Hates Shrimp" and Krewe of Underwear showed "Tales from the Silver Sheen") and a topless Sarah Palin sculpture decorated T.O.K.I.N.'s depiction of the Tea Party conservatives. The New Orleans Sewage & Water Board was slashed for its unconscionable "don't drink the water" announcement this winter, and one group portrayed TSA ("Don't touch my junk!") as serial molesters. (Marchers gleefully groped crowd members as they passed by.) Tremé creator David Simon was mocked for aspects of his generally-beloved HBO series, with marchers wearing costumes based on the sperm-headed KDV outfits portrayed in the show by John Goodman (which had never actually appeared in KDV before). Mondo reported from the year 2525 that the Saenger Theater was finally reopening, and that the Saints had once again won the Superbowl -- and that the Landrieu family was now officially in charge of the Universe.
We had friends in various of the subkrewes, so we were kissed and hugged and showered with KDV goodies as folks went by -- and I was surprised by several parishioners in costume, marching with subkrewes who also hugged and kissed me as they went by (one woman parishioner warning me in advance about the molesting "TSA" agents behind her group).
In a marked improvement over years past, every single group had a band, which really added to the festive scene (and brought more employment to New Orleans musicians, always a good thing -- and no, Big Man did not march this year, as he had already been booked with a gig by the time he was asked. You snooze, you lose. But he was sorry to miss it.)
When KDV was finally done, I made to go back to the St. Phillip house, but my sister L stopped me. "There's another one," she said mysteriously. It seems one of the subkrewes, Delusion, had quit KDV in a huff (who knows why? does it matter?), and was marching a good 6 or more blocks behind. They finally showed up, with young women in white corsets up in front (you can't knock that), and one backup band.
And then it was over for another year, time for us to go back to the house and talk over our favorite bits and drink some more -- and then to pile ourselves back into the SUV for the ride Uptown. A fine time was had by all.
Since KDV is wildly popular -- with some proclaiming it their "favorite parade" though really I cannot see how that could be true -- I planned to avoid trying to find a scarce parking space by riding with my sister L and her husband. But unknown to L, the friends they were riding with had *also* promised rides to other friends. Thus it was on Saturday night that I found myself squeezed into an SUV with *8* other adults, and none of us skinny. Being so close together, we were a little hilarious in our piling in and our piling out, and more than one reference was made to circus clowns exiting a toy car.
A parking place was being held for us in front of the Vieux Carré apartment being leased by L's friends from Chicago (he's a builder who is bidding on the contract for the new Orleans Parish prison, which is kind of ironic since his brother is a well-known defense attorney in town). The apartment -- it's a house, really -- is on St. Phillip, a few blocks from Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop, the historic old piano bar on Bourbon. The spot was held by L's friends parking their car in it, and then on spotting our arrival, moving their car to their rented gated parking lot. This being duly accomplished, we were given a tour of the house.
OMG it was gorgeous. The main house had been a traditional camelback double, but it had been opened up as a single, creating a large living-dining area with shuttered French doors all around. One of the original archways, that had been between the double parlors on each side, had been retained as a frame for the stairway to the loft area to the right. To the left was a sunken kitchen with bright blue ceramic tiles on the countertops and backsplash; through the kitchen on the right was a nice size en suite bedroom. Straight through the kitchen, through another French door, was the brick courtyard with comfortable patio furniture, a beer keg, a propane barbecue, and a small outdoor refrigerator.
On the other side of the courtyard was the old slave quarters that had been made into a guesthouse (rented by an employee of L's friends). The first level had an attractive if small living area open to the modern kitchen with a high counter for dining, with French doors facing the courtyard straight across. A rather steep staircase (don't try this while drunk!) led to a bedroom-sitting area, and a queer little bathroom on two levels, with the bathtub/shower being tiled in custom New Orleans-themed tiles (beautiful!). Across the whole floor was a balcony accessed by more French doors.
After oohing and aahing over the courtyard and guesthouse, we went back in to explore the upstairs area of the main house. The original camelback had been expanded by opening up the attic to the sloped roof, to create a good size sitting room with a full bath off it, and then up a few stairs to the large master bedroom area, with a loft-like view into the kitchen below from the stairs.
In case the reader, like me, is curious over what such a lovely living space in the French Quarter costs, I have to say I don't know for sure -- and certainly couldn't ask. But I do know that the couple pointed out a different apartment they had seen on their search, that they hadn't liked as much, and said in passing that the rejected apartment was $3500 per month. So that gives you an idea.
Anyway, it's a perfect spot for marshaling forces for a look at KDV -- not to mention a great place for Mardi Gras refueling!
KDV's ostensible theme this year was "25 Years Wasted" as it is their anniversary year, but of course, none of the subkrewes has the least responsibility to act on the overall theme. Each of the subkrewes goes with its own theme, and as you can imagine, these range widely. (For any of your readers out there who are not familiar with KDV, first, I am SO sorry for you, and second, you can read more at their website: )
Well, it was wild and woolly, with lots of genitalia made out of foam and fake fur, and lots and lots of skewering of local and national leaders. (The very first marching group, Krewe of L.E.W.D., proclaimed a new military policy of "Do Ass, Do Tail" and had a papier maché sculpture of a gay cowboy riding a donkey with the Commander-in-Chief's face.) The BP Oil Spill was attacked with biting sarcasm by several groups (C.R.U.D.E. titled its theme "New Oilins," Meshugge declared that "God Hates Shrimp" and Krewe of Underwear showed "Tales from the Silver Sheen") and a topless Sarah Palin sculpture decorated T.O.K.I.N.'s depiction of the Tea Party conservatives. The New Orleans Sewage & Water Board was slashed for its unconscionable "don't drink the water" announcement this winter, and one group portrayed TSA ("Don't touch my junk!") as serial molesters. (Marchers gleefully groped crowd members as they passed by.) Tremé creator David Simon was mocked for aspects of his generally-beloved HBO series, with marchers wearing costumes based on the sperm-headed KDV outfits portrayed in the show by John Goodman (which had never actually appeared in KDV before). Mondo reported from the year 2525 that the Saenger Theater was finally reopening, and that the Saints had once again won the Superbowl -- and that the Landrieu family was now officially in charge of the Universe.
We had friends in various of the subkrewes, so we were kissed and hugged and showered with KDV goodies as folks went by -- and I was surprised by several parishioners in costume, marching with subkrewes who also hugged and kissed me as they went by (one woman parishioner warning me in advance about the molesting "TSA" agents behind her group).
In a marked improvement over years past, every single group had a band, which really added to the festive scene (and brought more employment to New Orleans musicians, always a good thing -- and no, Big Man did not march this year, as he had already been booked with a gig by the time he was asked. You snooze, you lose. But he was sorry to miss it.)
When KDV was finally done, I made to go back to the St. Phillip house, but my sister L stopped me. "There's another one," she said mysteriously. It seems one of the subkrewes, Delusion, had quit KDV in a huff (who knows why? does it matter?), and was marching a good 6 or more blocks behind. They finally showed up, with young women in white corsets up in front (you can't knock that), and one backup band.
And then it was over for another year, time for us to go back to the house and talk over our favorite bits and drink some more -- and then to pile ourselves back into the SUV for the ride Uptown. A fine time was had by all.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
More Signs of Spring
More and more, the city of New Orleans is entering into Spring.
Sign: Today, crews from the city were mowing the grass on the St. Charles neutral ground (hey, y'all up North -- are you mowing your lawns yet?).
Sign: On the Jefferson Avenue neutral ground, and in front yard gardens all over Uptown and the Garden District, camellia bushes are in full, vivid bloom, their dark red and dark pink flowers vibrant against the glossy dark green foliage.
Sign: Baskets of bright geraniums on front porches on Dublin and Freret Streets.
It will be a warm Mardi Gras, and folks are more and more getting into the springtime Carnival season.
Sign: Today, crews from the city were mowing the grass on the St. Charles neutral ground (hey, y'all up North -- are you mowing your lawns yet?).
Sign: On the Jefferson Avenue neutral ground, and in front yard gardens all over Uptown and the Garden District, camellia bushes are in full, vivid bloom, their dark red and dark pink flowers vibrant against the glossy dark green foliage.
Sign: Baskets of bright geraniums on front porches on Dublin and Freret Streets.
It will be a warm Mardi Gras, and folks are more and more getting into the springtime Carnival season.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
C U 4 Dinner
My sister L belongs to a large group of friends who enjoy doing things together on a regular basis. One of their ploys for getting together and eating (and drinking!) is called "C U 4 Dinner."
What happens is, one member of the group volunteers to be the coordinator for an upcoming month, and is delegated to offer local restaurants a deal -- if the restaurant will provide a meal of appetizer, entrée and dessert and for $35 or under a person, the group will pledge to fill the place on a Tuesday evening with between 25-35 people. (Tuesdays are normally slow days here for restaurants.) Cafés and bistros thus approached usually can come up with a choice of 2 entrées, and maybe even a choice between 2 appetizers. It's a good deal for all parties -- the restaurant makes cash money on a usually slow night, and the group comes together, drinks heartily, and eats well, with lots and lots of talking and laughing and table-hopping.
Last night, the restaurant chosen by my sister was Atchafalaya on Louisiana Avenue, and they made the group an incredible deal: a choice of *4* appetizers (2 soups and 2 salads) and *4* entrées, each one more delectable sounding than the one before. Wow! (No one knows why they went to that much trouble, but no one complained.)
With all the delicious options, and with the venue being so charming, the group turned out in force. Big Man helped L count the cash, so I happen to know that the grand total of C U 4 Dinner diners was 32. We packed the place, and I must confess that the noise level got pretty high. (At one point, restaurant employees had to close the little windows between our private area and the main dining room.)
After the Happy Hour, during which time *a lot* of drink specials, beer, and wine was consumed, we were shown up into private rooms on the upper level to be served. (Atchafalya is in one of the city's traditional old commercial-plus-residences, with the corner-cut doorway facing 2 streets, and the old commercial area on the ground level, with what used to be the house a few steps up.)
Those who ordered the potato and bacon soup really liked it, and those having the traditional gumbo pronounced it excellent (it was really, really dark, like the color of semi-sweet chocolate and tasted rich and smoky). The house salad was a generous plate of mixed spring greens with house-made dressing, and the Caesar salad was refreshingly on the dry side (too many restaurants drown the romaine) with large shavings of cheese. Big Man and I both had the quail stuffed with boudin, wrapped in bacon and served in a nest of fried thin-shredded potatoes on top of savory mashed potatoes and tart bitter collard greens. OMG it was superb! (Other enticing entrées included whole redfish, pork roast with mango sauce, and shrimp and grits.) For dessert they brought us rich dark coffee and a smooth and creamy bread pudding.
Everyone was so completely happy with dinner that they tried to nominate my sister L to be the *permanent* coordinator of C U 4 Dinner! -- an honor she graciously declined.
A great time was had by all, and we recommend that you try Atchafalaya for lunch or dinner soon!
What happens is, one member of the group volunteers to be the coordinator for an upcoming month, and is delegated to offer local restaurants a deal -- if the restaurant will provide a meal of appetizer, entrée and dessert and for $35 or under a person, the group will pledge to fill the place on a Tuesday evening with between 25-35 people. (Tuesdays are normally slow days here for restaurants.) Cafés and bistros thus approached usually can come up with a choice of 2 entrées, and maybe even a choice between 2 appetizers. It's a good deal for all parties -- the restaurant makes cash money on a usually slow night, and the group comes together, drinks heartily, and eats well, with lots and lots of talking and laughing and table-hopping.
Last night, the restaurant chosen by my sister was Atchafalaya on Louisiana Avenue, and they made the group an incredible deal: a choice of *4* appetizers (2 soups and 2 salads) and *4* entrées, each one more delectable sounding than the one before. Wow! (No one knows why they went to that much trouble, but no one complained.)
With all the delicious options, and with the venue being so charming, the group turned out in force. Big Man helped L count the cash, so I happen to know that the grand total of C U 4 Dinner diners was 32. We packed the place, and I must confess that the noise level got pretty high. (At one point, restaurant employees had to close the little windows between our private area and the main dining room.)
After the Happy Hour, during which time *a lot* of drink specials, beer, and wine was consumed, we were shown up into private rooms on the upper level to be served. (Atchafalya is in one of the city's traditional old commercial-plus-residences, with the corner-cut doorway facing 2 streets, and the old commercial area on the ground level, with what used to be the house a few steps up.)
Those who ordered the potato and bacon soup really liked it, and those having the traditional gumbo pronounced it excellent (it was really, really dark, like the color of semi-sweet chocolate and tasted rich and smoky). The house salad was a generous plate of mixed spring greens with house-made dressing, and the Caesar salad was refreshingly on the dry side (too many restaurants drown the romaine) with large shavings of cheese. Big Man and I both had the quail stuffed with boudin, wrapped in bacon and served in a nest of fried thin-shredded potatoes on top of savory mashed potatoes and tart bitter collard greens. OMG it was superb! (Other enticing entrées included whole redfish, pork roast with mango sauce, and shrimp and grits.) For dessert they brought us rich dark coffee and a smooth and creamy bread pudding.
Everyone was so completely happy with dinner that they tried to nominate my sister L to be the *permanent* coordinator of C U 4 Dinner! -- an honor she graciously declined.
A great time was had by all, and we recommend that you try Atchafalaya for lunch or dinner soon!
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Spring is here!
It was in the low 70s and beautifully sunny as I drove to the church this morning, and on my way I passed the first blooming Japanese magnolia tree of the season, bare branches flaunting large pink blooms. It's New Orleans springtime, and it feels like it's been a long time coming.
It was a difficult holiday season for me. Not only was the weather unusually cold and nasty, but in December, Russell, my friend of 35 years, was diagnosed with Stage IV cancer (that is, cancer that has spread to other major organs) and hospitalized with what some of his family members and friends thought was to be treatment but I knew (from bitter hard-won experience) was to be palliative care until his death. The holiday season was taken up with his slide into dying, and visiting with him for final good-byes (and one last Saints game on his hospital TV). He died on January 4, and his service -- a giant to-do with hundreds of people paying emotional and sometime humorous tribute to him, which he might have enjoyed if we had only done it while he was still here -- was January 7.
From early December when I first found out to his death in early January, I couldn't write. Then after he died, I still couldn't write. At first it seemed too frivolous to keep up with a blog while Russell fought this last losing battle. Then I was too sad to write. And then finally I couldn't write because I felt paralyzed, frozen.
And now, today, with the blue skies and warm sun and blooming flowers, I feel like something inside me has thawed or melted. I feel like I can write again. New Orleans is still here, still beautiful, still needing care, and the courage and commitment of the people who love her (just like Russell). So the Blog is back.
It was a difficult holiday season for me. Not only was the weather unusually cold and nasty, but in December, Russell, my friend of 35 years, was diagnosed with Stage IV cancer (that is, cancer that has spread to other major organs) and hospitalized with what some of his family members and friends thought was to be treatment but I knew (from bitter hard-won experience) was to be palliative care until his death. The holiday season was taken up with his slide into dying, and visiting with him for final good-byes (and one last Saints game on his hospital TV). He died on January 4, and his service -- a giant to-do with hundreds of people paying emotional and sometime humorous tribute to him, which he might have enjoyed if we had only done it while he was still here -- was January 7.
From early December when I first found out to his death in early January, I couldn't write. Then after he died, I still couldn't write. At first it seemed too frivolous to keep up with a blog while Russell fought this last losing battle. Then I was too sad to write. And then finally I couldn't write because I felt paralyzed, frozen.
And now, today, with the blue skies and warm sun and blooming flowers, I feel like something inside me has thawed or melted. I feel like I can write again. New Orleans is still here, still beautiful, still needing care, and the courage and commitment of the people who love her (just like Russell). So the Blog is back.
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