Jazz Festing in the Mud

Music beats the mud every-time;

Jazz Fest in the mud

Woodstock revisited?

I guess.

Wasn't there, but

I imagine

Wearing boots.

Stomping in the Muddy Waters:

Yes, Chicago to N'orleans..

The beat's in the water..

It reigns on the brain;

Sounds, beats, stomps:

Miles whittled down to inches

Beneath the booted foot,

Hymns of praises and misery,

Beaten down into the ground-

Meshing the sounds.

Back into the Mother

Where her heart beat

Is revitalized.

Her strength renewed

She rises up through the

Bare footed

Child like and ready to swing.

 

Partying even after death

Here are two images that I have embedded in my brain. Both images involve New Orleans legends: Lionel Batiste and Mickey Easterling, and both had their bodies upright and party-ready after departing this life!

Yes, like Roy Roger's horse, you can "stuff" people, too.  I don't know if stuffed is the correct term for these dispositions, but here they both are awaiting the after party: Mr. Batiste, a famous musician, and Mickey Easterling, an infamous socialite and arts sponsor.

I'll let you take in the view; and ponder what awaits you and me.  I certainly hope that there is a huge party on the other side. I don't know if smoking is allowed; Mickey has a cigarette in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. But, who really knows?

The movies and books tell us that, "Heaven is for Real," so maybe there is a smokeless cigarette?
My friend, Dianne, told a story of her two aunts; one who was laid out in her coffin was visited by the surviving 70 plus year old sister. The surviving sister who wore high heels, a tight black dress and held a cigarette holder in her hand, looked down at the deceased and said, "Bitch, you look BAD!"

Here's hoping that we all are standing up and ready for the eternal party with a cocktail in one hand and our dancing shoes still on. As Louis Armstrong sang:
"When I die please bury me in my high top Stetson hat
Put a twenty dollar gold piece on my watch chain
The gang'll know I died standing pat."

http://abcnews.go.com/meta/search/imageDetail?format=plain&source=http://abcnews.go.com/images/US/wgno_lionel_batiste_120725
http://www.nola.com/arts/index.ssf/2014/04/mickey_easterlings_memorial_se.html

New Orleans Pre- Jazz Fest Concert

The Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra  entertained about 4,500 people in the evening atmosphere on Earth Day.

We sat around enjoying the diverse selections from our talented musicians! Aaron, a young autistic friend, identified the compositions from his favorite cartoon shows. He was delighted to be attending his first symphony concert. I told him that as children in the New Orleans' Public Schools, we attended free concerts twice a year.

Oh, what good times were had when we were allowed to expand cultural awareness and music and art appreciation in the classroom. Sadly, these cultural experiences have been washed away and replaced with test preparations. I do so hope that we return to our senses soon. Music, art, dance belong in our schools. How tragic when the only exposure to classical music comes from cartoons.

The poetry of the night with the setting sun, and musical notes are a joyous way to celebrate Mother Earth.

Spring Notes

Color on a Page;

Poem on the back of a recipe

Life, day-to-day.

Tiny splashes on a page:

Not Picasso every day.

Little mini water colors;

Caste with crayons;

All colored out of the lines;

Daily we awake to a new page;

What’s today’s theme?

Sunlight Meditation

Yesterday, with the sunlight flooding through my open window, I felt this...

Augustine’s famous passage “What do I love when I love my God,” and especially the way his experience is in the world but then mysteriously surpasses the world:

“It is not physical beauty nor temporal glory nor the brightness of light dear to earthly eyes, nor the sweet melodies of all kinds of songs, nor the gentle odor of flowers, and ointments and perfumes, nor manna or honey, nor limbs welcoming the embraces of the flesh; it is not these I love when I love my God. Yet there is a light I love, and a food, and a kind of embrace when I love my God — a light, voice, odor, food, embrace of my innerness, where my soul is floodlit by light which space cannot contain, where there is sound that time cannot seize, where there is a perfume which no breeze disperses, where there is a taste for food no amount of eating can lessen, and where there is a bond of union that no satiety can part. That is what I love when I love my God.”

French Quarter Festival Bench Sharing

Sunday morning my dear friend, Nell, dropped me off on Rampart Street so that I could walk into Jackson Square to have " breakfast with the artists." There were such large crowds because of French Quarter Fest that I bummed a ride rather than search out a parking spot. I have started a new job and the crowds Saturday night dissuaded me from trying to park in the Quarter. I am now promoting Hoi Polloi at 330 Chartres Street.

As a teenager, I used to take the street car into the French Quarter and have a cup of coffee at the Coffee Pot and stroll around and have coffee and conversation with the local artist. It is such a delight to be able to return in my 60's to a wonderful pastime.

I walked down St. Phillip's Street, picked up a bagel at CC's Coffee Shop, sat on a bench, and communed with the artists, musicians, and psychics!

I feel at home with all of these Bohemian characters. I did not, however, connect with the red-dyed hair man eating chips and smoking for breakfast who came to share my bench. He sat all rounded up, bumming a light from another man, eating his chips and suffering some sort of anti-people look. He did not bother me until he threw his cigarette butt onto the ground.*

When I finished my bagel, I took my napkin, picked up his "butt," and tossed it into the trash barrel which was less than two feet away from our shared bench.  I elected not to look at him. Perhaps my example will assist him in the future, or not. But, there is one less butt on the ground.

The photo above was taking later in the day when I switched from coffee to a different sort of libation.

I love these Quarter geniuses. I hope that you find a few of your own.

* This morning, I said a prayer for the dyed red head.

Zesting with the Festing

French Quarter Festival

Zesting with the Festing

Trials of powdered sugar;

From grandmother’s house

Makes way for Bloody Marys;

Strawberry Abita beer and crayfish cheesecake.

Street pounding rhythms

Music laid down and pounded out

One foot in front of the other

Side step, handkerchief drawn

Ready to dance;

Young, but, mostly old

Stompin’ hands held high

Grooving to Zyedco beats

Full fledged smiles

Committed to the beat

Years dissolve as the tunes progress.

Strangers waving 2^nd lines.

Encouraging hip swinging movement;

On-n-on, non-stop excitement,

One mo’ time;

2 for 1 beer;

Yeah you’re right!

Crunk’n the Who dat Nation:

Quarter flavored and ’round we go.

http://fqfi.org/frenchquarter/schedule/stage

 Amazing events on an April Saturday in New Orleans

Events from City Park to the French Quarter and the Marigny exploded today. Selecting which event(s) to attend presented quite a conundrum. Randy and I elected to attend the Spring Garden Show at the 1,300 acre City Park. The Pavillion of the Two Sisters is the center of this floral extravaganza. Flowers, plants, art, garden accessories and amazing local gardeners gather at this venue to share their talents, beauty and gifts. In this city ,we all like to get our hands dirty and create beautiful spaces in our homes and yards.
Fabulous creative people made and sale their ideas at this annual event. A potter made special V-shaped wall hangers for coffee filters. Planters, and plants came in so many shapes and sizes that all could not adequately be absorbed. I bought a garden hose stand made out of sturdy non-rusting metal that stands like a sentinel in my yard.
Randy purchased an antique rose bush that his mother has been searching for. I bought a golden orange bougainvillaea off of Gabriell's truck before he could bring it into the show. We were helping him unload his truck after we borrowed his cart to haul our first round of purchases to the car.
Our second round brought us to see the stained glass work of Mr. Fred, and the floor mats and cutting boards next to another new potter.
Many other delightful plants were purchased which we loaded into the back of Randy's SUV. Thank God for inventive Japanese hatch backs with all sorts of detachable options!

Lunching at the Parkway Bakery allowed us to share a very juicy roast beef poor-boy sandwich. If you have never eaten one, it is necessary to have at least 6 napkins to absorb all of the juice. I saved a little snack on the knees of my pants. How I dripped juice there is still a mystery. I guess one has to be totally committed to eating one bite at a time not to carry home a reminder of lunch.
We watched three little girls come in to the restaurant with their Easter dresses and baskets filled. They enjoyed the hunt in the sculpture Garden, also in City Park. I hope that they ate something a little less juicy and were able to keep those pretty pink dresses clean.

While driving home we chatted about the Ferret Street Festival and the Francophone Festivals that were rocking other neighborhoods today.
There was also a tour of gardens and homes on the Marigny that we could have attended. All of this and the WWE 30th tour is in town. There are no hotel rooms to be found. What an amazing city.











http://www.yelp.com/events/new-orleans-fete-francaise-nouvelle-orleans
http://noma.org/events/detail/765/NOMA-Egg-Hunt-Rain-or-Shine

Friends who taught me how to be a better teacher

I have been privileged to be a partner in the learning process of students and adults with special needs. I applaud the creator of this video.(See attached link)
Here is to you dear Jessica, Jamie, Donald, Shaun, Stacey, Crystal, and Roxanne.
You wonderful students who taught me more than I could possibly have taught you.
At a time in my persoanl life when everything appeared to be coming apart at the seams, you all taught me to enjoy the moment.
The littler songs that we sang and the laughs that we shared, all helped me to put myself back together in a more colorful and festive way. Yes, Crystal, even singing "Jingle Bells" in the middle of Walmart in May!

I salute all of you and your families. How brave and courageous you all were.

Crystal, you tiny little voice laugh and your smile still reminds me to lighten up.

Jamie, your desire for a good cup of coffee and your numerous keys have opened my eyes to wonder and appreciation for the tiny little events of life; like learning how to crawl through a window when you forget the keys.

Donald, your smiling face and happy demeanor break all the barriers that life seem to cast your way.

Shawn, your little two word phrase"your ...B--u--tt," have gotten me through some difficult times.

Roxanne, your love of the Budwiser truck almost got me fired, but, I would not replace the smile on your face as the driver let you help him unload his truck.

Jessica, you could not speak, but you convened so much in your knowing laugh and your tears. Wow, the video that we made of you to share with MR. Shelby's class has taught hundreds of "normal" children to stop taking their God given talents for granted. And how I miss your angelic smile. I pray that you are with me daily. I evoke your presence many times during the days.

Thank you all for being such a part of my life. You made Cary's untimely death much more tolerable.
You taught me to smile, even laugh in the face of uncertainty and horror.




http://dumpest.com/world-down-syndrome-day/