May 2012 / Festin' and Glory in the Land of Boudin
We could have been the cast of a Fellini and Woody Allen movie. We were our own parade! We were returning from meeting L. A. Norma in New Orleans for the God blessed French Quarter Festival -- the big news from which is that Cyril Neville is back. He had been in Austin since Hurricane Katrina. His Royal Southern Brotherhood, formed recently with Devon Allman, took stage in Woldenberg Park overlooking the River. They wow-ed the Gods.
His talented niece, Charmaine Neville, did her great act the day before in Jackson Square. Full voiced and with enormous presence -- though thin and sometimes using a cane -- she held the Neville family banner high. Alas, she did not do, "Right Key Wrong Keyhole," her all-time best number. But she did an homage to garbage men that set a young man behind us yelling that his uncle was a garbage man. People parted to allow him a front stage spot. Charmaine touched his hand. Later, from a happy lady in the crowd, she borrowed a blue straw hat easily recognizable as one by New Orleans renowned milliner, Tracy Thompson. That lady can strut!
Good times on the River, in the Quarter, strolling, drinking, under shade trees, having a Cuban cigar, then POW, The River! "It don't get any better," L. A. Norma said. "French Quarter Festival is tops!"
One afternoon we rode our bikes over to House of Blues, where Missy Meatlocker entertained in the carriage way. She is a practitioner of the ukulele and boiler of the best bagels this side of Brooklyn at Cake Cafe and Bakery, Faubourg Marigny. She said she did not know what Will Rogers said of Calvin Coolidge. "He said, Calvin's Presidency was like 'a man playing a ukulele'," L. A. Norma informed, "You could not be sure if he was really doing it or just fooling around."
Houmas House owner, Kevin Kelly, was presented with a piece of ship's rope and paddle wheel by the man dressed like Mark Twain.
Boarding the train in New Orleans were a couple dozen or so young and not-so-young folks with Tourette's Syndrome. Every traveler's dream. They were as full of joy as humans ever are. We walked past them looking at the epic mural fresco painting around Union Station by Conrad A. Albrizio. They popped off randomly with words and sounds, it seems, that may have been directed at the art. On the train they would have filled the front half of my coach if they had not spent their time in the observation-car. Everyone walking through to the dining-car smiled. The happy folks responded to things that may or may not have been directed at them. Everyone had a good time.
"Mexico," L. A. Norma suggested they meant. They didn't understand, but assured her it was in Texas but to them it was not Texas but refreshing desert. They lived in Paris.
Festival International de Louisiane opened the following week in Lafayette. This is the largest, and many say, best of Acadiana festivals. Some say even greater things. It is without question a festival as you dream of them. Huge crowds, but easily navigated. Happy faces of all ages spread among outdoor stages, Downtown. There is a Bazaar of goods from near and far, far away. And the food! I loved the alligator sauce piquante by Mark Rotolo of Jambalaya by "Shake," from Baton Rouge.
"Getting there is half the fun," some airline used to advertise. The train still is half the fun. You can have lunch in either direction, though the weary crew from the West is likely to run out of food. A good packed lunch is always a good idea. But the diner is cheap and "so-so" good, and there you might meet your fellow travelers. Think of it as a cruise in an old rust-bucket of a leaky ship with a frayed system and an exhausted staff. Fun!



