Mardi Gras Links And Lupercus

This opinion piece was posted in 2012 by a local New Orleanian  C. W Cannon. It contrasts the "rich person's Mardi Gras" with the Mardi Gras that developed in the past 20 years since the old line Krewe's were forced to integrate.  The Mardi Gras we have today is better than the Mardi Gras of 20 years ago because we New Orleanians have begun to move back to smaller scale groups of individuals who costume and parade without enormous budgets.  'Tit Rex is a parady of the old line monied Rex and pays tribute to the shoebox float that ever New Orleanian school kid has made at least once.  Krewe du Vieux makes fine art of satire. I will love them forever for the 2006 Mardi Gras "Corps of Engineers we hold nothing back" and "Meet me at the Breech" displays.  Carnival is where we turn our ordered patterned world on it's head. Where we break loose and, as Cannon says, "the cultural concept of Carnival is to turn against, invert, or critique the broader culture in which it is enveloped."

And Mark Folse a local blogger posted about another blogger who wrote extensively about France's Occtican Carnival.  (One of my favorite parts of the world).  This talks about how Carnival prepares us for the shift between Winter and Spring. How we revel in the wild and cleanse the old year away.   If the pictures of "Spring's Wild Forces" doesn't make you think wild thoughts, nothing will.

I have always said that Mardi Gras was perfectly aligned with Lupercus these posts reinforce that for me.  So please take time to howl for Lupercus and this carnival season.  People have known for centuries that it's good for the body and the soul.

Carnival & Lupercus

Lupercus is a celebration of the power of wild, of freedom, of being purified of the trappings of civilation. It connects us to Nature, the Great Teacher.  It is not Imbolc and lambs and milking. It is the polar opposite of Imbolc. 

Carnival in New Orleans is a season perfectly aligned with Lupercus. 
Tonight the Krewe du Vieux parade will roll in New Orleans

"The Krewe du Vieux is a non-profit organization dedicated to the historical and traditional concept of a Mardi Gras parade as a venue for individual creative expression and satirical comment. It is unique among all Mardi Gras parades in the city because it alone carries on the old traditions of Carnival celebrations, by using decorated mule-drawn floats with satirical themes, accompanied by costumed revelers dancing in the streets to the sounds of jazzy street musicians. We believe in exposing the world to the true nature of Mardi Gras—and in exposing ourselves to the world."

Looks like this Krewe took the lessons of Umberto Eco to heart.
"Carnival, in order to be enjoyed, requires that rules and rituals be parodied, and that these rules and rituals already be recognized and respected. One must know to what degree certain behaviors are forbidden, and must feel the majesty of the forbidding norm, to appreciate their transgression. Without a valid law to break, carnival is impossible. During the Middle Ages, counterrituals such as the Mass of the Ass or the coronation of the Fool were enjoyable just because, during the rest of the year, the Holy Mass and the true King’s coronation were sacred and respectable activities. The Coena Cypriani quoted by Bachtin, a burlesque representation based upon the subversion of topical situations of the Scriptures, was enjoyed as a comic transgression only by people who took the same Scriptures seriously during the rest of the year. To a modern reader, the Coena Cypriani is only a boring series of meaningless situations, and even though the parody is recognized, it is not felt as a provocative one. Thus the prerequisites of a ‘good’ carnival are: (i) the law must be so pervasively and profoundly introjected as to be overwhelmingly present at the moment of its violation (and this explains why ‘barbaric’ comedy is hardly understandable); (ii) the moment of carnivalization must be very short, and allowed only once a year (semel in anno licet insanire); an everlasting carnival does not work: an entire year of ritual observance is needed in order to make the transgression enjoyable.

Carnival can exist only as an authorized transgression (which in fact represents a blatant case of contradicto in adjecto or of happy double binding — capable of curing instead of producing neurosis). If the ancient, religious carnival was limited in time, the modern mass-carnival is limited in space: it is reserved for certain places, certain streets, or framed by the television screen.

In this sense, comedy and carnival are not instances of real transgressions: on the contrary, they represent paramount examples of law reinforcement. They remind us of the existence of the rule.

Carnivalization can act as a revolution (Rabelais, or Joyce) when it appears unexpectedly, frustrating social expectations. But on the one side it produces its own mannerism (it is reabsorbed by society) and on the other side it is acceptable when performed within the limits of a laboratory situation (literature, stage, screen …). When an unexpected and nonauthorized carnivalization suddenly occurs in ‘real’ everday life, it is interpreted as revolution (campus confrontations, ghetto riots, blackouts, sometimes true ‘historical’ revolutions). But even revolutions produce a restoration of their own (revolutionary rules, another contradicto in adjecto) in order to install their new social model. Otherwise they are not effective revolutions, but only uprisings, revolts, transitory social disturbances.

In a world dominated by diabolical powers, in a world of everlasting transgression, nothing remains comic or carnivalesque, nothing can any longer become an object of parody."

Umberto Eco, “The frames of comic ‘freedom’,” _Carnivale!_, Ed. Thomas A. Sebeok. Berlin: Mouton, 1984

Lord, I love this city!!!!

We talk to strangers like they are our best friends.

Now, this being New Orleans and, especially, this being the Rouses on Carrollton, the gentleman didn't just unload his basket.
No.
He started a conversation with anyone who would listen about why he had selected said items in his basket. Turns out he was having foot surgery (right foot, in case you were wondering) and was about to be laid up for about five days.
"I don't got nobody to take care of me, so I thought I'd make my first pot of red beans and rice to eat on."
Just as he was asking the cashier to help him make sure he had all the right ingredients, a woman standing behind me chimed in, "Why would you make red beans and rice? Just go to Popeyes. They have the best."
Well, that did it. All hell broke loose between checkout lines 5, 6 and 7. Right there at the Rouses on Carrollton.

Read the rest here:
http://nolavie.com/2013/01/love-nola-to-popeyes-or-not-to-popeyes-50639.html

Where is the House of the Rising Sun?

Thanks to Blake Ponchartrain of New Orleans Gambit Magazine. Blake is one of the best history researchers on the planet.  He answers questions sent into him from readers wondering about their history and their environment.  And what's not to like about that?

Where is the House of the Rising Sun?
Blake Pontchartrain

Hey Blake,
I have some questions about a song written about New Orleans, "House of the Rising Sun." Was there a real House of the Rising Sun in New Orleans, and where was it? Who wrote the song?
Cynthia

Dear Cynthia,

There probably were several buildings in New Orleans called House of the Rising Sun over the years, but it's likely most would have been named after the song, not served as the inspiration for it.

Back in the 1980s, Record Ron, whose Record Ron's Good & Plenty Records regularly won "best used record store" honors in reader polls, said he was told his record shop at 1129 Decatur St. occupied the original House of the Rising Sun. Ron, who died in 1996, never could authenticate that claim.

A Jan. 29, 1821, issue of the Louisiana Gazette ran an advertisement announcing L.S. Hotchkiss and Co. had bought John Hull and Co.'s interests in the Rising Sun Hotel at 535 Conti St. That hotel opened in 1801 and was destroyed by fire in 1822.

Another story proffers the famed house was at 826-830 St. Louis St. and was a brothel originally run by Madam Marianne LeSoleil Levant, whose surname is French for "rising sun."

Today, the three-story white building on St. Louis Street is owned by attorney Darlene Jacobs Levy and houses her Home Finders International real estate company. She inherited the building when her husband died in the late 1980s, and she began renovating the front apartment of the derelict building as a place for her father to live. Workmen at the site discovered risque postcards of half-dressed women from the 1800s behind a wall and uncovered fancy fluted columns and a ceiling mural of a golden rising sun surrounded by three cherubs. Levy says the house was a bordello operated by a succession of different madams for many years before her husband bought the building.



Eric Burdon, the vocalist for The Animals, which scored a huge hit with "House of the Rising Sun" in 1964, wrote in his book Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood about meeting Levy and touring the St. Louis Street house.

"It was all I'd dreamt it would be," Burdon wrote. "A palace in the New Orleans heat. It was a wondrous feeling learning that the place I'd fantasized about for thirty years wasn't some run-down shack but was in fact a place of beauty."

Levy says she has no legal documents to prove the building's history. "It has been passed down in history and folklore as being the House of the Rising Sun," she says. "It doesn't really matter to me whether it is or not. It's not open to the public."

Levy restored the house out of a duty to conserve historic structures, she says. "What you see now is what we feel is the original house as it was in the 1800s."

As for the author of "House of the Rising Sun," that is unknown. Musicologists have traced the song's origins back as far as the 18th century to a traditional English ballad. Like many ballads and folk songs, the lyrics have changed over the years to suit the singer and the audience. No one can claim rights to the song, so anyone can alter it, record it or sell it royalty-free.

Reflections on the Hurricane

Take a look at one New Orleanian's view of living without, electricity.
http://b.rox.com/2012/09/04/revelations-in-blackout/

I'm beginning to think that the next decade is going to be one
where we learn to choose what we do without
by learning to ask ourselves questions like:

• Do I need X? (with the emphasis on need and not want)
• How does X serve me or my "ecosystem"/relationship with the rest of the world?
• Is there another option?
• Is there another way to get what I need (or want) that better serves me and my "ecosystem"/relationship with the rest of the world?

The effects of the Hurricane make it easier to reflect on these questions.

I like the freedom my petroleum provided vehicle provides.
I like my AirConditioning.
I like what "the internet and all it's options" offers me.
That's why I'm putting Solar Panels on my home and acquiring a Solar Generator.
These things allow me to have the benefits of electricity but change how I get it and has already begun encouraging others to think about doing the same.

These choices are not just about going back to the "good ole days"
but about making smarter long term decisions
instead of simply feeding the "consumer beast".

Lazy... maybe not

I've listened to people from cooler climates bemoan the slow pace of life in the south... These days I'm hearing more people from (formerly) cooler climes complain about the heat, saying they want to stay inside, saying they are going to "do nothing". If culture had any heat dependencies... and I think it does... then perhaps *it is* the heat.... well... and the humidity.

Summer is our Winter. It is when we slow down and stay indoors.
But given the climate, we also adjust *when* we go outside. Am I lazy when I am inside with something cool by 10AM? Or smart? My outdoor work hours tend to be 5:30AM-9AM or after 7PM. Small windows, which is why I am glad for my day job... in the air conditioning.

An exerpt by C. W. Cannon below gives you more information to ponder... in the heat.

Approach to leisure is a happy habit: C.W. Cannon
Published: Friday, April 15, 2011, 10:17 AM

Louisiana and these national ranking lists. Now the state is the "most violent," according to the Institute for Economics and Peace. Last summer, the label was "lazy."

Of course, data can be spun different ways, be attached to different words.

If "lazy" means actually enjoying leisure time and not working too much, why not call Louisiana the "happiest" state? Oh, yeah, we won that one the previous year, in a study by the Centers for Disease Control.

Sadly, the most recent thorny laurel -- most "violent" -- is a less spinnable word than "lazy" or "happy." More sadly, Louisiana's long history is replete with unspinnable evidence that the violence is not a new phenomenon here.

"Lazy," though, we might be able to dodge. It depends on what it means. Certainly the word has been associated with Louisiana for a long time. "Dose Creole' is lezzy,"Aurora Nancanou says of her own people, in George Washington Cable's 1880 saga of old New Orleans, "The Grandisimmes."

Indeed, Bienville himself complained of the laziness of the settlers sent by the mother country. However, if it's true that Louisiana has an approach to work and leisure that distinguishes it from the average American state, could the earliest cultural formation of the region be a factor?

I've spent the past year searching for clues to whatever cultural residues might remain from the earliest generations of New Orleanians, residing first in France, then in Senegal. I've come across some very concrete parallels, such as Senegal's soupu kandia, a spicy seafood stew distinguished by inclusion of a vegetable they call "gumbo" (okra).

But lifestyle approaches are more difficult to generalize about. Even scientific-seeming surveys reveal highly subjective judgments upon closer inspection. As it turns out, the "lazy" ranking Bloomberg put together included time "working" (presumably at one's job, for money) and how leisure time was spent, whether in physically strenuous activities or in sedentary ones. Sedentary leisure activities covered not only watching TV, but also "thinking" and socializing.

Louisianians spent a big chunk of their time socializing, coming in at the third-most social state in the country. Most importantly, time spent "working" was very low. Maybe those bumper stickers proclaiming, "Work is for people who don't know how to fish," say it best.

The idea of challenging the pre-eminent status of work as the raison d'être of our identities is sacrilege for many Americans. However, one does get a very different sense of the value of work -- in perspective -- in both France and Senegal. The way the French demand leisure as a right and insist on actual legal limits to time and days worked per year is well known. Their leisure habits, too, revolve very much around unrushed meals and conversation with friends and family.

Senegal, too, approaches the idea of work differently than in the United States. It's a highly entrepreneurial culture, much more than France. Vendors of everything from phone cards to shoes and clothes energetically trudge the streets in the driven pursuit of a sale (to the great irritation of many foreigners). And there's a craftsmanly work ethic of doing the job right, from carpentry or tailoring to peeling an orange or putting the straw in a bag of cold fruit juice in just the right way.

But there's also a sense that work can't be rushed, that time working needs to be leavened with breaks for rest, family and friends, contemplation, prayer. You want the job done by 5? Maybe, incha Allah (God willing).

While this approach to the customer's demands is famously annoying to many a Westerner, it does preserve a salutary degree of autonomy to the guy on the other end of the transaction. And if he gets the job done, and done well, and makes enough money to enjoy life with friends and family, what's the problem?

It may be that Louisianians' approaches to work and leisure have roots in the first generations from Europe and Africa, but the comparison does not extend to violence. Both France and Senegal have far more peaceable societies than even the average American state can boast. Apparently, the causes of the real problem in Louisiana will have to be searched for closer to home.

............................

C.W. Cannon is the 2010-11 Fulbright Professor of American Civilization at Universite Cheikh Anta Diop, Dakar, Senegal. He returns to the Loyola University English Department in the fall.

Spring in New Orleans

Posted at Nola.com by Brett Will Taylor... local blogger.

"Because I think there's a really awesome lesson to learn in the way that Spring really does bust out all over around here. The lesson is this: We live in a time when man actually thinks he is the master of Mother Earth. And, when it's spring in New Orleans, you can actually hear Mother Earth laugh at the foolishness of that notion!"

Italian Immigrants in New Orleans

Our local newspaper the Times Picayune is 175 years old.  They also are on-line at

They recently published a list of 175 Events, People & Things that shaped New Orleans.

The article below by Laura Maggi on Italian Immigrants was one of the 175.

The tourists waiting patiently for muffulettas in the aisles of Central Grocery likely have no idea they are surrounded by what was once a standard fixture of many New Orleans neighborhoods: the Italian-owned corner store.

View full size

These grocery stores once dotted the city’s landscape, built by immigrants who flocked to New Orleans and surrounding parishes beginning in the late 1800s. Unlike Italian immigrants to other major American cities — who hailed from all over the then recently unified country — New Orleans’ immigrants came almost entirely from the poverty-stricken island of Sicily.

The Sicilian transplants found work on sugar plantations upriver or toiling on New Orleans docks. Many who stayed in the city settled in the lower French Quarter, creating what was known at one point as Little Palermo. Macaroni factories popped up around the neighborhood, while Italian vendors sold fruit at the French Market.

Eventually, some immigrants were able to open small businesses, such as corner stores or restaurants. Some didn’t stay small, such as Progresso Foods, the soup and condiment giant, which began as a New Orleans import company.

As Italians prospered, many followed the path of earlier immigrants, leaving the city for suburban parishes. Their culinary traditions, New Orleans twists on Italian food, can be seen all over the metropolitan region. These traditions include, of course, the muffuletta: a sandwich of deli meat and cheeses smothered in olive salad. Many local kitchens offer up red gravy, a long-simmered tomato sauce.

Each March, local families descended from Sicilian immigrants erect elaborate altars laden with bread, cookies and other food in honor of St. Joseph’s Day. St. Joseph’s has also been adopted as one of the few non-Carnival days of celebration for the city’s Mardi Gras Indian tribes, which don their elaborate suits in the evening and parade in the streets.

Natural Resiliance

Below is an article published in the Times Picayune that talks about a community's resiliance.   If you've read any news in the past 6 years you've probably heard about at least 2 of the disasters that affected the Barataria community: Katrina & the BP Oil Spill.  While the article is short on detail the fact that these communities are made up of individuals who live close to nature and who understand how they are interdependent on nature *and* each other is at the core of their capacity to survive.

It makes a unique kind of South Louisiana sense when you come from an area named after the immeniently adaptable Pirate, Jean Lafitte, when you live in an area named for the Pirate Jean Lafitte  will you get someone saying that the secret to their success is that they are like a Pirate, Jean Laffite.
“They were able to adapt and change in order to continue,” Peterson said. “It’s kind of the lessons from what we can learn from Jean Lafitte.”


Full Article captured for reference below:
Barataria area is model of resiliance.
Allen Powell II - March 11, 2011 - Times Picayune

Most communities couldn’t survive six natural disasters in six consecutive years, particularly if they destroyed hundreds of homes and cost hundreds of people their jobs. But if you ask residents of Lafitte, Barataria and Crown Point, they’ll tell you they aren’t most people, and according to a recent study from the University of New Orleans’ Center for Hazards Assessment, Response and Technology, they’re right.

Researchers found that residents of the fishing enclave are extremely resilient, which is evident in how quickly their communities have rebounded from hurricanes, floods and the BP oil spill, said Kristina Peterson, a senior researcher with CHART. The group studied those communities to determine the root cause of their resiliency in the hope that it might help others.

“They were able to adapt and change in order to continue,” Peterson said. “It’s kind of the lessons from what we can learn from Jean Lafitte.”

Researchers used “participatory action research,” a method that lets residents drive the focus of the study. Peterson said researchers spent four years meeting with residents and developed an oral history of the communities. They discovered the skill sets and practices that made the areas stronger and made residents more willing to reinvest despite the damage caused by hurricanes like Katrina, Rita and Ike.
Peterson said researchers presented their findings to residents several times, and then residents would tell them whether those findings were accurate to provide a complete picture. She said this type of research is more valuable than simple surveys or data mined from the U.S. Census Bureau.

“They told us their story,” Peterson said.
What researchers found was that despite the lack of outstanding public infrastructure, the communities had intense and extensive private bonds that provided a helpful social network. In addition, certain skills that were essential to disaster recovery, like carpentry, were often tied to the livelihoods of many residents. Residents said they had a close relationship with public officials, and that allowed them to minimize or eliminate the red tape that slowed recovery in other areas, she said.
Jean Lafitte Mayor Tim Kerner said the study validates what he already knew about the area. Residents in those communities are willing and able to do their part to recover, but they do need a helping hand from politicians to make certain that things are not too difficult.

Lafitte, Barataria and Crown Point, Kerner said, play an important role in the Louisiana economy as well as the nation because of its fishers, and oil and gas workers. He said he hopes the study will stand as testament to the will of those individuals.

“I think what they saw is that the people here bounce back faster and stronger than some other areas,” Kerner said. “If you look, we’ve been through six disasters in six years, and if you drive through Jean Lafitte, Crown Point and Barataria, it doesn’t look like we’ve had one.”
Allen Powell II can be reached at apowell@timespicayune.com or 504.826.3793.

Mardi Gras !!!!! Throw the baby out the window let the sun burn down!

Thank YOU!!!! Washington Post!!! and Jordan Flaherty!!!!

Wondering about Mardi Gras???  ... Read Five Myths about Mardi Gras

 

Then if you're not able to be here.... at least listen!

And think of the baby as a Mardi Gras King Cake Baby

For more on Mardi Gras Indians see Bury the Hachet

Backyard Habitat - weaving yourself into the Web of Life

I'm an urban pagan. I last year I spent 2 weeks on my teacher's homestead and loved it! But day in day out, I'm an urban pagan. So my yard and the skies above my house is where I watch and listen to Nature, the great teacher.

By some standards we have a lot of yard; by others not so much.

In New Orleans, specially postKatrina, yard sizes vary greatly. In some older parts of town, houses have 3 feet of alleyway down each side, are right on the street. There is 10 to maybe 15 feet behind the house. In these areas there may not even be a greenstrip in front of the house where a small tree could be planted. New Orleans also has a Garden District where the houses and the yards are larger and the houses are set back from the street in the American fashion rather than the French/Spanish fashion of placing the house fronts right on or very close to the sidewalk. And then there is the PostWar Lakefront and New Orleans East a combination of what was once swampland, farmland, PostWar development & 60s/70s sprawl. PostK in these areas there are some houses that now sit on their original lots and also have the lots or lots next door making for really large yards. In other areas there is every combination of the above. New Orleans is nothing if not diverse.

And then there is the lower 9th Ward. This area is still a shadow of its former self. Areas near the river in the Holy Cross Area are recovering and looking more like they once did. There is the area that Brad Pitt has worked to help redevelop with more solar powered, sustainable green houses popping up every day. It's impressive and a tourist attraction and rightfully so on so many levels. And then there are broad areas where there are only vacant lots. There is a push to make this area large urban gardens, which is in many ways, a return to its roots. There are other endeavors that are linking people to the wetlands in a way they were not before. It is a land of devastation and opportunity. Leftover sadness and hope. But I digress.

In our yard have a combination of both small scale intimate backyard and a large open area front yard. What we don't have is a lawn mower.

In the back of the house there is the French/Spanish private garden a bricked courtyard with plantings around the edges and a covered area which can allow us to be outside and protected from the sun and rain. This patio is overlooked by a deck that allows us to watch the sunsets and pick papayas and naval oranges without getting a ladder or a picking tool. Because we now have a mature tree at the center back of the patio this area along the back fence is more shaded and subdued than it used to be. We've started trying to grow mushrooms in the shade. And I've planted some slow growing ever sweet olive trees along this area because the now mature bradford pear won't last forever and because these trees are evergreen and will one day provide a better privacy barrier. But mostly I planted these because absolutely nothing beats the smell of sweet olive. Our Queen of the Night and butterfly ginger provide occasional competition but nothing tops sweet olive. Even with the shade along the back there is still room in the sun for a lime, a grapefruit and a few kumquats. And of course no patio is complete without a water feature, so we have a small fountain surrounded by lavender and garlic chives and oregano. And no garden is complete without roses so we have some of those as well. The patio is where we treat the birds to sunflower seeds, at least if they get to the seeds before the squirrels do.

There is also a more sun-drenched area in the front of the house that probably sightly larger than the back patio, especially if you count the strip between the sidewalk and the street. This front yard is planted with evergreens: yews, gardenias, camellias against the house, satsumas, rosemary, roses and perennials like lantana and mint around the edges. But the center of this area is where I work with more closely the seasons and broadcast seeds from American Meadows. In the late winter/early spring we have creeping daisy and baby blue eyes, baby snapdragons and poppies. I'm trying some old rue seeds to see if I can get this growing in the cool of our year. I have been successful with rue only once. I've seeded alyssum again for probably the last time because this seems to freely reseed itself and create a wonderful backdrop for just about any other flower. In the summer we'll have heat loving zinnias and cosmos and some Chinese forget me nots. Our summers are so long that just after Cornucopia I have to reseed with more zinnia's and cosmos. While all these flowers freely self seed, saving the seed or getting an occasional new batch from American Meadows makes for more robust displays. The zinnias will die off in the fall but the cosmos can make it through the bulk of the winter (providing seed for the birds). The blanket flower is coming up where it was last year and in any other place it wants. This flower also tends to bridge the seasons; leafy in winter, flowering in late spring/early summer and then self seeding away (with a little of my help to spread the wealth!).

It may sound lush but, it's still the city. Cars pass in front of my house just 3 feet on the other side of the sidewalk. There are 2 side by side paved driveways on one side of the house; one for us one for our neighbor. It's a heat sink that we can do nothing about. Our back patio abuts our backyard neighbor's driveway. The other side of the house is a yard, separated by a high fence from the front of the house, where there are air conditioning units and limited sun between the houses. It's enough space to grow some sweet potatoes, more papayas (because they are so easy to seed), some bananas (new as of last fall), a fig (which I keep trying to kill off because it is not a good producer, but the birds like it) and a grapevine and where I let the basil go wild. The ground is hard clay. The limited light makes growing tricky but nature usually fines a way for something to grow. My only job is to figure out what this is. I can get arugula, greens (mustard, spinach) to grow but other vegetables elude me.

As an urban pagan, the city and more specifically my yard is where I have had to learn to relate to Nature. The collective yard is also a Certified National Wildlife Backyard Habitat. I don't use pesticides. I let the caterpillars (except for tomato horn worms!!!!) have free reign. I have enough seeding and nectar producers to keep the birds happy. This year we had a possum in the neighborhood. Anyone can register for their yard to be a Backyard Habitat. It's not about how big your yard is; it is about how closely the yard works with nature and how much habitat it can provide for species other than homo sapiens.

It's a new year and spring is not that far away. Think about what you can do to weave where your live into the Web of Life. I think the guidelines for the National Wildlife Federation's Backyard Habitat are a good place to start.

Spirit Flame

The picture of this piece of sculpture (about 3 feet high) was taken in New Orleans.
It looks like there is a copper pipe (just to the left of the highest flame point) that could be used
to actually have a flame burn.  Now how cool would that be???

Now we're talking

It took Katrina to get the people of the region to really stand up to the Corps of Engineers
but finally the RIGHT projects are going through.... we need more...
but at least now there is movement.

See recent article in New Orleans Times Picayune in full below

Coastal restoration projects move forward
Saturday, December 10, 2011 - Times Picayune
By Mark Schleifstein

Construction of a half-dozen major coastal restoration projects in Louisiana took a small step forward Friday with federal and state officials signing an agreement outlining how to design the projects. The agreement frees up the first $20 million appropriated by Congress this year to be spent on pre-construction engineering and design work.

View full sizeEllis Lucia, The Times-PicayuneThe Terrebonne Basin Barrier Shoreline Restoration project will rebuild marshland, dunes and beaches on Raccoon, Whiskey, Trinity and Timbalier islands in Terrebonne and Lafourche parishes. Whiskey Island was photographed in October 2002, after it had sustained significant damage from Hurricane Lili.

The first six of 15 projects, proposed as part of the Louisiana Coastal Area Ecosystem Restoration program, will require an investment of $1.4 billion. The federal government will pay 65 percent and the state will pay the rest.
Traditionally, such projects are financed by appropriations by Congress, which may be sparse during the next few years.
But some of the projects may get funded through fines or mitigation costs levied against BP and other companies found responsible under the federal Clean Water Act and the Oil Pollution Act of 1990 for the Deepwater Horizon oil spill.
The state also hopes to use part of its share of future revenue from federal offshore oil and gas leases, similar revenue from in-state leases, and from past state budget surpluses to pay its share of construction costs.
“These projects will help to reduce the risk from storm surge of a hurricane by supporting the multiple lines of defense system,” said Col. Ed Fleming, commander of the Army Corps of Engineers’ New Orleans District office.
He was referring to a strategy underlying both the federal restoration plan and the state’s coastal restoration master plan that locates land-building projects in areas where they can help protect populated areas from storm surges.
“The LCA 6 projects utilize the three important coastal restoration methods: barrier island restoration, river diversions, and marsh creation and nourishment,” Fleming said.
The first projects will include:

• Amite River Diversion Canal Modification, which will improve the flow of water into the cypress swamp and wetlands to the west of Lake Maurepas in Livingston and Ascension parishes.
• Small Diversion at Convent/Blind River, where about 3,000 cubic feet per second of Mississippi River water will be pumped through a canal near Romeville into the cypress swamp and wetlands west of Lake Maurepas in Ascension and St. James parishes.
• Medium Diversion at White Ditch will allow up to 35,000 cubic feet per second of Mississippi River water and sediment to be diverted near Phoenix into wetlands on the east bank of Plaquemines Parish.
• Terrebonne Basin Barrier Shoreline Restoration will rebuild marshland, dunes and beaches on Raccoon, Whiskey, Trinity and Timbalier islands in Terrebonne and Lafourche parishes.
• Convey Atchafalaya River Water to Northern Terrebonne Marshes. This project combines two proposals — routing Atchafalaya water into the Bayou Chene/Gulf Intracoastal Waterway system and designing a gate structure in the Houma Navigation Channel to allow that water to pass into sensitive wetlands.

Tomb with a View

Life next to a cemetery
Tomb with a View
Chris Rose - Gambit

I see dead people. Every day, I am presented with the physical manifestations of eternity. Or maybe faith is the better term. I live amid the remnants and architecture of ritual. I bear witness to the ceremonial and liturgical transference of the departed from this world to, presumably, the next.

  Fancy talk for telling you: I live next to a cemetery.

  In some towns, that might not be a good thing. It might be spooky or depressing. I don't know anything about real estate, but it seems reasonable to postulate that these little cities of granite, marble and stone, with their solicitations of grief and their constant reminder of mortality — hell, why sugarcoat? With their constant reminder of death! — might not be the curb appeal every potential homebuyer is looking for.

  In some towns.

  They are serene, oddly comforting, the small, quiet gatherings that occur here. There are no more than two or three a month in my cemetery, it seems. They never strike me as depressing. Truth is, I hear more laughter in my cemetery than sorrow. Maybe that's part of New Orleans' curious relationship with death; you know, that "we put the 'fun' in funerals" thing.

  I have lived in New Orleans for 25 years, but only this fall did I move across the street from a cemetery. It is such an iconic neighbor, like living, I suppose, next to a vineyard in France, a Roman aqueduct in Italy, pyramids in Egypt or in the shadow of the Great Wall of China; before the senses have fully taken in the surroundings, the story of these places is already revealed to us. They are not natural wonders by any means, but reminders that man, too, is capable of producing wondrous things.

  That's one way to put it. The terms I generally use to describe living next to a cemetery are considerably less didactic: "It's really cool!" is generally how I explain it to my friends.

  Most old cities seem to have at least one cemetery that is a source of civic pride and/or historical significance. But I don't know of any other place where every cemetery invokes a sense of place, a sense of pride; in New Orleans, cemeteries are among the most pervasive and visible reminders of our otherness.

  Drop me into a cemetery anywhere else in the country, and I would be at a loss to tell you where I am. Drop me off in New Orleans, and I can tell you immediately: I am home.

  My kids — 7, 9 and 11 — are just getting over their squeamishness about our new neighbors. For a long time, they exuded a determined disinterest in the cemetery; they knew they weren't supposed to be scared of it — after all, the other kids in the neighborhood seem fine with it — but, still, they were pretty freaked out for a while.

  Now, we walk our dog, scooter and play in our cemetery. In fact, I've often wondered about the propriety of that, wondered, as I once watched my children play hide and seek: What are the boundaries?

  Many years ago, a girlfriend of mine took my mother and my aunt — visiting from Maryland — to lunch while I was at work. She picked up some seafood po-boys and sodas at the St. Roch Market and took them to St. Roch Cemetery where she spread their bounty across a stranger's tomb and they ate and visited with each other.

  Needless to say, my folks thought St. Roch was a marvelous, beautiful place to behold. But the story they brought home with them was about the curious girl who took them to lunch at a cemetery! Now there's a story for the folks back home.

  But that's what we do, no? Is that OK? What are the rules, I have always wondered? (And I've no doubt that before this week is out, someone will dutifully inform me.)

  My cemetery is rundown, overgrown and mostly deserted. Tourists don't come here. But I find I have taken a proprietary interest in my cemetery. To me, it is prettier than all the grand Cities of the Dead that make New Orleans famous.

  Funny, I realize: I love my cemetery. From it, I draw a great deal of reflection, serenity and peace. Odd, but from my cemetery, I draw so much life.

Scents and listening to subtleties

Cooling scents: the right perfume can lift your spirits and cool you down
Published: Tuesday, August 09, 2011
By Susan Langenhennig, The Times-Picayune NOLA.com

Debra Jones-Scie has an old-fashioned trick for dealing with the sticky heat and humidity of late summer in the city.

She keeps a bottle of Verveine, a bright, lemon verbena cologne, in the refrigerator. Before stepping outside, she spritzes a little on her skin, sending a chilling tingle down her spine.

“When I go on a walk, I pull it out and give a little spray,” said Jones-Scie, the “nose” for Hové, the 80-year-old French Quarter perfume house. "It cools you."

Scents are the escape artists of the beauty world. One whiff of the right perfume, and you can be in another place and time — one preferably about 20 degrees cooler and 50 percent less sweaty than August in New Orleans.

I’ve come to Jones-Scie's door seeking relief from the relentless humidity that’s sapping my energy like a tapeworm. She turns to a shelf in Hové’s 19th-century townhouse and her hand falls on a few options.

There’s Elan d’Orange, a surprisingly bracing scent that features orange blossom, but presented in a way that’s not like the sweet floral we often associate with the heady flowers of the bitter orange tree. Elan d’Orange has a pleasant tang, like iced tea with a slice of lemon.

Plage d’Ete is another option, but it’s a little too suntan-lotion-like for me, with those familiar notes of coconut and lime. It conjures thoughts of a frosty pina colada by the pool or memories of slathering Coppertone on your skin.

Hové’s Vetiver, a pure, green, grassy scent, is refreshingly sharp and has a side benefit. “I use the Vetiver on my legs, and it keeps the mosquitoes away, at least on me,” Jones-Scie said.

Perfume blogger Victoria Frolova has a poetic way of describing the cooling effects of certain perfumes: “The effervescence of citrus — be it the bracing sharpness of lime, the peppery shimmer of bergamot, the intense verdancy of petitgrain or the playful sweetness of mandarin — has a refreshing, exhilarating effect,” she writes. “It instantly cools, evoking the delicious sensation of an ice cube melting on hot skin.”

Frolova has a technical nose that gives an insightful edge to her fragrance observations at BoisdeJasmin.com. There’s a reason, she said, why some colognes are particularly appealing in warm climates.

“Neroli and petitgrain oils share the same pungent component as perspiration and allow it to become masked by the bright, green freshness of orange flower,” she writes in a post highlighting summer scents.

The bitter orange tree — the variety that gives marmalade its bite — is like “the pig of the fragrance world,” Frolova said during a recent chat by phone from her home in New Jersey. “Every part of the plant is used.”

Orange bigarade, an essential oil, comes from cold-pressing the fruit, while sweet neroli oil is derived from the orange blossoms. Petitgrain, another essential oil, comes from distilling the twigs, making for a green, woodsy smell.

“Neroli is less floral and more citrusy,” Frolova said, “while orange blossom absolu is richer and sweeter, more seductive.

“One of my personal favorites is Annick Goutal Neroli, a blend of orange blossom and neroli,” she added. “It has so many facets, but when you put them together, you end up having an accord that’s very fresh.”

Orange blossom fragrances can be boldly feminine, like Serge Lutens’ Fleurs d’Oranger, which leaves a lingering sweetness to the skin.

Or they can be darker and brooding, as in the case of Narcisse Noir, a scent launched in 1911, said Barbara Herman, who blogs about vintage perfumes at yesterdaysperfume.typepad.com.
“Narcisse Noir has amazing orange blossom, but the predominate character of that perfume is dark and sexy,” she said. “It’s mixed with incense and in a musk base, which makes it very interesting.”

Herman has been living in New Orleans this summer while writing a book, with the working title “Scent and Subversion: A Century of Provocative Perfume.” She doesn’t subscribe to the idea that hot months call only for simple scents.

“Just as you probably don’t want to eat beef stroganoff in the dead of summer when it’s 96 degrees out, you don’t generally want to wear heavy perfumes in the Oriental family either,” she said. “Lighter and fresher scents in the floral and chypre perfume families act like olfactory air conditioning to lift your spirits and cool you down. They may be light, but they’re not lightweight. Some of these are complex beauties.”

Chypres (pronounced “SHEE-pres”) are that lovely family of fragrances with notes of citrus mixed with oak moss, musk and, often, patchouli. One of Herman’s favorite summer scents is Clarins Eau Dynamisante, a chypre she describes as “citrusy, woody, herbaceous, spicy. Prozac in a perfume bottle.”

Some of her other warm-month favorites include Estee Lauder White Linen — “as elegant and fresh as a starched white shirt; smells like summer to me” — and Hové’s Vetiver — "peppery, dusty, salty, wild. One of the best vetivers out there.”

But Herman has a special affection for Christian Dior Diorella, which she describes as “fresh, funky, fruity, mossy, like citrus perfume spilled inside a suede purse.”

The first time she smelled it, she was on a lunch break from her office job in San Francisco. “I sprayed it on and just got a funny look on my face,” she recalled. “I walked around, sniffing my arm for the next half an hour.

“I think perfumes are really visceral experiences. You feel more connected to yourself and your senses.”

Sitting around a coffee table last Friday in the back of Avery, a new niche fragrance boutique in the Warehouse District, Lauren Lagarde was having a perfume moment.

We were discussing summery scents when Shannon Drake, director of marketing for the company, opened a bottle of Nuda, an intense jasmine fragrance by Nasomatto, a line created by perfumer Alessandro Gualtieri. The fragrance is derived from jasmine blossoms picked at night by gloved workers on a farm on the Cote d’Azur.

Lagarde closed her eyes and shook her head. The scent didn’t bring her to the Cote d’Azur.

“We used to have jasmine growing around our house in Bay St. Louis. This takes me right back there,” Lagarde said. “When I smell this, I’m seven years old again, and it’s summer.”


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I found this post on Herman's blog particularly interesting:
"The more you smell and categorize what you're smelling, comparing one scent with the next, etc., the better you get at recognizing aspects of perfume, even being able to conjure it up in your memory."

Which is exactly why ritual and smells and bells are so important to our practice.

You could be Basque?

Bruce Eggler article from New Orleans Times Picayune
Few New Orleanians would identify themselves as of Basque heritage, but according to one of them, that's only because they're unaware of their families' origins a few centuries ago.

Ellis Lucia, The Times-Picayune

Michel-Antoine Goitia-Nicolas was photographed in 2003, with a Basque flag and coat of arms.

From Abadie and Alciatore to Yzaguirre and Zatarain, says Michel-Antoine Goitia-Nicolas, dozens of longtime local families can trace their origins back to the Basque region that straddles the border between France and Spain. Most of them, he says, are aware only that their ancestors emigrated from France or Spain, not of their exact ethnic background. But, he says, whether Barbe or Begue, Chachere or Charbonnet, Gayarre or Goyeneche, Lacombe or Lemoyne, Mandeville or Marigny, Sapir or Soraparu -- all have Basque origins.

Goitia-Nicolas, 46, who was born in Canada and has lived in New Orleans since 1984, founded a nonprofit group, the Louisiana Basque-American Society and Cultural Organization, or LABASCO, in 2003 to promote awareness of the state's Basque heritage. He has ambitious plans for the group, though so far its list of accomplishments is confined mainly to numerous speeches Goitia-Nicolas has given around Louisiana and the Gulf Coast to raise awareness of Basque history and local families' connection to the region.

The group will hold a dinner meeting today from 5 to 8 p.m. at Galvez Restaurant in the French Quarter. Goitia-Nicolas will speak on Basque history in Louisiana and announce a fund to raise a monument to Jean Lafitte and other local Basque worthies.

Lafitte -- or Laffite, as he spelled it -- is remembered by most as a successful pirate or privateer and smuggler who operated out of Barataria Bay and New Orleans and helped Gen. Andrew Jackson defend the city from British invasion in 1814-15. Goitia-Nicolas, however, refers to him as a "man of mark," as in "letter of marque and reprisal," an official government licence authorizing a private vessel to attack and capture enemy vessels.

Why July 23, and why Galvez Restaurant for the dinner? Because, Goitia-Nicolas said this week, this is the birthday of Bernardo de Galvez, the Spanish military leader who served as governor of Louisiana from 1777 to 1785. Himself of Basque descent, Galvez "brought both Cajuns and Islenos to Louisiana," and both groups contained large numbers of people with Basque heritage, according to Goitia-Nicolas.

The easiest way to recognize a family's Basque origins, Goitia-Nicolas said, is by a name that means nothing in French or Spanish but shows origins in the Basque tongue, which is unrelated to any other language. "Garcia," he said, is automatically considered a Spanish name, but it really means "wheatfield" in Basque. "Lafitte," he said, is Basque for "blackberry."

Because his family spoke Basque, Goitia-Nicolas said, he quickly recognized names such as "Soraparu" and "Zatarain" on street signs and grocery shelves when he arrived in New Orleans, and he realized the city had a strong Basque connection he had not suspected. He began studying records of immigration to New Orleans in the 1700s and 1800s. Even before the city was founded in 1718, he said, most of the early Spanish and French explorers and colonizers in Louisiana were Basques.
Goitia-Nicolas' said LABASCO's other goals include publishing a book about Basques' role in Louisiana history, establishing a Basque cultural center and creating an endowment to promote awareness of the state's Basque heritage. He said the center and endowment could appropriately be based at either Loyola or Tulane universities -- both, he said, named for people from Basque families.
Goitia-Nicolas said he had about 30 reservations for tonight's dinner but was hoping for many more.

The price is $50. Reservations can be made at 504.595.3400. The restaurant is at 914 N. Peters St.
Goitia-Nicolas can be reached at grecetbasque@aol.com.

Don Quixote - Barataria

Re: "Did Don Quixote inspire Barataria name?" Your Opinions, July 8.
Records show that early French colonists named a swampy region south of New Orleans "Barataria'' after an episode in Cervantes' "Don Quixote de la Mancha.'' As Spanish literature teacher Mary Jo Brown explained in her letter, Don Quixote's sidekick, Sancho Panza, received an imaginary island on dry land named Barataria.

As early as 1732, French maps show the "Isle Barataria,'' encircled by Bayous Villars, Barataria, Rigolettes and Perot and Lake Salvador. The colonist Le Page du Pratz stated in his "History of Louisiana'' that the area was named for the fictional Barataria "because it was enclosed by these lakes and their outlets to form almost an island on dry land, as was that island of which Sancho Panza was made governor.''
Claude Joseph Villars Dubreuil, who was the king's contractor of public works, claimed to have named the Isle of Barataria. It was part of his extensive "Barataria Plantation'' that he acquired about 1730, partly for the extraction of timber and shells for construction work. Jean-Baptiste Massy, who received his land grant across the bayou in 1726, also named his plantation "Barataria.''

The labyrinth of bayous that served as a hideout for pirates and smugglers may have been responsible for the sense in which the name was applied to the whole region.

"Barataria'' is a Provencal equivalent to the 15th century French words "baraterie,'' meaning deception, and "barater'' meaning to deceive, to exchange, to barter. The English equivalents of "baraterie'' is barratry, one meaning of which is fraudulence or illegality at sea.

Betsy Swanson
Harahan

It's so easy to lose the past...Thank Besty for saving some of it for us.

Saints Joseph, Partick, Big Chief & Spy Boy

New Orleans is such a mash up of cultures that we have

Irish-Italian Parades in 3 parishes (for everyone else in the USA this is the equivalet of 3 counties)

AND

The Indians (Mardi Gras Indians) hold their Super Sunday around the same time, which is intrestingly enough....

The Spring Equinox

Once Upon a Time - Mardi Gras

Once upon a time: Mardi Gras a look back at the history of it all
Published: Tuesday, February 22, 2011, 11:44 AM
Updated: Wednesday, February 23, 2011, 12:20 PM
By The Times-Picayune

SOURCE: The Times-Picayune's Mardi Gras 2011 Special Section.

It was the first time for the group of Mardi Gras newbies visiting from out of town. They headed down Bourbon Street surrounded by the kaleidoscopic shock-and-awe that is Fat Tuesday in the French Quarter.

One of them was costumed like a recent headline-making serial killer while her friend's elaborate outfit was designed to resemble a disgraced congressman who was caught with his pants down - literally - in an airport bathroom. Slightly more family-friendly attire included the group's small contingent dressed in "Mama Mia!" T-shirts, which broke into song at the drop of a hat.

Somewhere down the street a stereo was blasting "Carnival Time."

Two scantily attired men dressed up like cherubs hung on to a street pole while pretending to shoot "love arrows" in our direction.

And it wasn't even noon yet.

IN THE BEGINNING

The ancient roots of Carnival can be traced to the Feast of the Epiphany on Jan. 6 - aka Kings' Day or Twelfth Night (as in the 12 days of Christmas). In some places around the world Jan. 6 celebrates the arrival of the three wise men at the birthplace of the Christ child.

In New Orleans, Kings' Day simultaneously ends the Christmas season and fires the starting pistol for Carnival. This festival of fun finds its roots in various pagan celebrations of spring, some dating back 5,000 years. But it was Pope Gregory XIII who made it a Christian holiday when, in 1582, he put it on his Gregorian calendar (the 12-month one we still use today). He placed Mardi Gras (or Fat Tuesday, the final day of the Carnival season) on the day before Ash Wednesday, the first of Lent's 40 days preceding Easter. That way, all the debauchery would be finished when it came time to fast and pray.

Much of the first part of the Carnival season is made up of invitation-only coronation balls and supper dances hosted by private clubs known as krewes. The public portion of Carnival comes to life a couple of weeks before Mardi Gras when the krewes hit the streets, staging more than 60 parades in metropolitan New Orleans.

Mardi Gras arrived in North America with the LeMoyne brothers, Iberville and Bienville, in the late 17th century, when King Louis XIV sent the pair to defend France's claim to the New World territory of Louisiana. The explorers found the mouth of the Mississippi River on March 3, 1699, Mardi Gras of that year. They made camp a few miles upriver, named the spot Point d'Mardi Gras and partook in a spontaneous party. This is often referred to as North America's first Mardi Gras. However, it is just as likely that the weary explorers were simply celebrating the fact that they were still alive.

A couple of decades later, Bienville founded New Orleans and soon Carnival celebrations were an annual event highlighted by lavish balls and masked spectacles. Some were small, private parties touting select guest lists, while others were raucous affairs open to the public. Collectively, they reflected such a propensity for frolic in the local citizenry that historian Robert Tallant wrote in his book "Mardi Gras" that "it has been said that the natives would step over a corpse on the way to a ball or the opera and think nothing of it."

Parades officially became a part of the festivities in 1838. On Ash Wednesday of that year, The Commercial Bulletin read: "The European custom of celebrating the last day of the Carnival by a procession of masqued figures through the streets was introduced here yesterday."

ROWDY EVENT

Over the next 20 years, Carnival became an increasingly rowdy event defined by drunkenness and violence. Eventually, churches and even the press began to call for its demise. In 1857, Mardi Gras found itself on the verge of death (having already been outlawed twice under Spanish and early American rule).

Then along came Comus, a group whose tale actually began 27 years earlier in the wee hours of Jan. 1, 1830 as a group of young men walked home from a New Year's Eve party in Mobile, Ala. They passed a general store featuring an outdoor display of rakes, hoes, shovels and cowbells. Making the kind of decision inebriated young men are apt to, they picked up the supplies and headed to the mayor's house where they caused quite a stir. An obviously patient man, the mayor invited them in, sobered them up and, according to historian Buddy Stall, made the motley krewe's leader an offer.

"Next year," hizzoner suggested, "why not organize yourselves and let everybody have fun?"

Led by Michael Kraft, the group called themselves the Cowbellion de Rakin Society. They paraded the following New Year's Eve and were so successful that the procession became an annual event.

Now, jump ahead to 1857 when New Orleans city leaders were on the verge of canceling Mardi Gras for good. Six Cowbellions now living in the Big Easy proposed forming a new private club to present a parade based on a theme, with floats, costumed riders and flambeaux (torch carriers who lit the way) - an orderly alternative to the chaos that Carnival had become. They chose the name Comus after the Greek god of revelry and coined the term "krewe." City leaders agreed and Comus was credited with saving Mardi Gras.

It wasn't until after the Civil War that the second Carnival krewe made its debut in 1870. The new group chose Jan. 6 to present its parade and ball, giving themselves the name Twelfth Night Revelers. Although they no longer parade, the Revelers ball (along with the Kings' Day streetcar ride of the Phunny Phorty Phellows) marks the official start of the season.

During the Revelers first fete, an innovation was brought to Mardi Gras - a queen. Well, almost. After their tableau was presented, court fools carried out a giant king cake, the traditional pastry of the season, in which had been baked a golden bean. The plan was that pieces of cake would be presented to a group of young ladies and the one who found the bean would be crowned Carnival's first queen.

However, it seems that the fools were quite drunk and instead of presenting the cake, they either dropped it on or threw it at the young women. When the flour cleared, none of the appalled females would admit to having the bean. So, the first Carnival queen - wasn't, until the following year.

By 1872, new troubles were brewing in the city. Postwar carpetbaggery had reached its zenith and rumblings of revolt against the city government could be heard. As Carnival approached, fears of masked reprisals surfaced. Then came the diversion city leaders needed. News arrived that Grand Duke Alexis Romanoff Alexandrovitch, brother of the heir apparent to the throne of Russia, had accepted the city's invitation to Mardi Gras.

A plan was hatched.

A new krewe of prominent citizens from both the government and its opposition would be formed and a King of all Carnival would be chosen. The group would call itself the School of Design and its ruler was to be Rex.

What no one knew was that the duke had accepted because his visit would coincide with the New Orleans opening of singer Lydia Thompson's touring musical, in which she performed a nonsensical ballad called "If Ever I Cease to Love." (Supposedly, she had also sung the number privately for the duke during a Big Apple rendezvous.) When news of Thompson and the duke hit the local grapevine, public interest in the visit grew enormously.

Mardi Gras morning found the duke sitting in the official reviewing stand as Rex, atop a bay charger, led 10,000 maskers in a line more than a mile long. Among them were a number of bands, all of which broke into "If Ever I Cease to Love" as they passed the duke. Alas, the romance was ill-fated, but after 137 years, Rex remains King of Carnival and "If Ever I Cease to Love" is still the official song of the season.

The oldest parading African-American krewe is the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club, which first took to the streets in 1909. Not taking themselves as seriously as the staunch white krewes, the group dressed its first king, William Story, in an old sack and a crown fashioned from a lard can. A banana stalk was his scepter. Over the years, Zulu has become a perennial favorite and the krewe's gilded coconuts (painted gold and decorated with glitter) are one of the season's most prized throws.

MODERN MARDI GRAS

By the 1950s, the truck parades, composed of floats built atop flatbed trucks (usually by families), had become well established. The late '60s saw the advent of the "superkrewes" Endymion and Bacchus, which broke with tradition by offering open memberships, larger floats and celebrity kings.

But Carnival faced new foes in the latter half of the 20th century. A 1979 police strike caused parades to be canceled in the city, just to see a number of them pop up in the suburbs. The City Council's anti-discrimination ordinance of 1988 called for krewes to either open their ranks or get off public streets. In response, three of the four oldest krewes - Comus (1857), Momus (1873) and Proteus (1882) - took their floats and went home. Rex remained and the other slots were filled. Proteus returned in 2000 and the following year became the first krewe to parade in the 19th, 20th and 21st centuries.

In 2002, the 9/11 tragedy led to an extension of the NFL season, meaning that the Super Bowl set to be played in New Orleans the week before Carnival began, would now take place in the middle of the festivities.

With some maneuvering, a number of parades were rescheduled to accommodate the game.

Just a few years ago, with the city still reeling from Hurricane Katrina, the Carnival season was somewhat compacted but only a handful of krewes opted out of parading, most of whom returned for 2007.

And in 2010, as the Superbowl Champion Saints added spice to the already joyous season, Mardi Gras seemed more triumphant than the usual celebration of the end of winter.

Krewes shifted days, times and even halted parades so as not to conflict with the events.

Though not an obstacle, the Super Bowl sensation Saints were another layer of Carnival.

So, it seems that in New Orleans, no matter what the obstacle or the celebration, the Greatest Free Show on Earth has always found a way around it.

As Stall writes in "Buddy Stall's New Orleans," "It has been said that the people of New Orleans love Carnival and Mardi Gras parades to such an extreme that if a catastrophe were to occur and only two people survived, at the next Mardi Gras one of them would be in costume marching down the street, beating a drum and holding a banner, while the other would be standing on the side in costume, drinking a Dixie Beer and hollering, "Throw me something, mister!"

SOURCE: The Times-Picayune's Mardi Gras 2011 Special Section.

If we're dying, it's a celebration: A letter to the editor

This letter to the editor was published in the Times Picayune.
"Once again our mouths are foaming because we can't take it when some "outsider" (at Newsweek, no less) recites facts about New Orleans.

The Newsweek article didn't slam New Orleans for its lack of new industry, an inability to attract Fortune 500 companies, or a lack of professional opportunities. The survey cited facts about population decline and a lack of young people.

Ranting and raving about this just reinforces stereotypes: We are 20 years behind the times; we can't face our own problems; we are a city full of incompetent characters, our best days are behind us.

Perhaps the key is to accept the facts and embrace them. Truth is, the rest of America isn't exactly prospering.

To be a dying city in a dying country actually makes us a loss leader for once. And nobody lives while dying as well as we do. Our food, our family, our joy of life have made us one of the happiest people in America -- even in the face of disaster.

I live in a place where my family and friends know how to live. Perhaps America should come here to see how to enjoy dying. We'll show them a jazz funeral.

Morgan Molthrop
New Orleans

Thank you Morgan.

Also see this article "City gets a mixed bag of publicity"
Saturday February 19, 2011 By Michelle Krupa Staff writer