fieldsofgarlic (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} fieldsofgarlic) wrote,@ 2006-02-24 17:05:00 |
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Beads Are Bricks Too
There's been a national and local conversation about whether we should or should not have Mardi Gras this year, being just shy of six months out from the Great Levee Failure of 2005. Some say that celebrating in the streets sends the wrong message. They say that people will think everything must be fine here if we have time to put down our hammers to catch some plastic trinkets.
Well, everything is not fine here, and we're having Mardi Gras. And that is exactly as it should be. If New Orleanians had never done this before, then yes, now might be an inauspicious time to start such a party. But the Carnival tradition here is older than the city itself. New York had the Macy's Thanksgiving parade in 2001, just two months after lower Manhattan was devastated by the worst terrorist attack in this country's history. And that parade wasn't even 75 years old.
Frankly, I can't imagine New Orleans without Mardi Gras. It's such an excellent expression of so many fine aspects of this place. It's music and dancing. It's wit and wiseassery. It's color and commotion. It's beautiful and exuberant. It's contagious and it's for everyone. If you're lucky enough to have experienced it, then you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, I hope you someday will.
After Tuesday, we'll put our costumes back in the closet and try to find something to do with even more plastic beads and cups (though many of us are starting new collections this year). We'll pick up our hammers again and continue the frustrating process of trying to rebuild our lives and our city. But make no mistake--Mardi Gras 2006 is not a detour on the road to recovery. It's a vital part of the rebuilding process.
You tell 'em, sister:
Last night, we New Orleanians kicked off the homestretch of our 150th modern Mardi Gras. Three parades rolled on the uptown route; parades will continue to roll every day uptown through the end of Fat Tuesday. We caught the parades near Marengo and St. Charles on the neutral ground. We rendezvoused with many friends, which was great.
The parades are all smaller this year. And the city is permitting a shortened schedule, due to limited police resources. But all the spirit is intact. And the crowds were in full effect, drinking deeply at the carnival trough.
The first parade to roll was the Knights of Babylon. I don't know much about this krewe (as parading organizations are called here), but they had beautiful floats. Every parade has a theme, and this year every parade has at least some nod to the Great Levee Failure and its aftermath. I don't know exactly what Babylon's theme was, but all the floats had something to do with creatures of the water.
For those who have never been to a traditional Mardi Gras parade in New Orleans, here's a little about how it goes. The parade consists of floats and marching bands, interspersed. Under normal circumstances, a krewe can't roll with fewer than 14 floats and 10 (or is it 8?) marching bands. But this year, since very few high schools are reopened, the band requirement has been greatly reduced, if not eliminated. And the float requirement is way down as well.
On each float there are riders, who are always masked (sometimes with face paint). Each rider is surrounded by a horde of trinkets. For the duration of the parade (two to three hours, if you're a rider), the riders toss these tokens out to the crowd, which does its part by screaming wildly, jumping up and down, waving its many arms high in the air and otherwise begging its collective heart out.
And then there are the bands. Last fall, I was worried there wouldn't be any marching bands, considering the state of schools in this city (and the fact that lots of band lost equipment in the flood). So I was overjoyed last night to see my first marching band this year, the West Jeff High School band.
More great aquafauna flowed by.
I didn't get a great picture of this baby, but what a beauty, eh? Babylon really did have some beautiful floats.
After Babylon, came the Krewe of Chaos. They are traditionally a satirical parade, and this year was no exception. Of course, all their floats were about local, current events. Many of them were commentaries I'd already seen: lambasting former FEMA Director Michael Brown, lampooning Mayor Ray Nagin's "chocolate city" comments, etc. But they had a new one that was great.
For those unfamiliar with Aaron Broussard and why they would call him Pump-ty, Dumb-ty, here's a little background. Broussard is the president of Jefferson Parish, which is just west of New Orleans. When the Katrina was coming, he called for a mandatory evacuation, including the parish's pumping station operators. Since this whole area is both surround by water and below sea level, the pumping stations are a vital part of our local security. In New Orleans, the many breaches overwhelmed the pumping stations; they couldn't keep up and soon were rendered non-operational by rising flood waters, despite heroic efforts of their operators. Jefferson parish, however, was luckier, in that they didn't have any breaches of their own (just overflow from New Orleans). By all accounts, the pumping stations there would have been able to keep up with the rate of rising water and keep flood waters from rising high enough to seriously damage properties. But with the operators evacuated, the pumping stations sat idle as flood waters rose and destroyed many, many houses. Broussard has been (fairly, I think) criticized for ordering the evacuation of the pumping station operators as non-essential parish employees. But the Pump-ty Dumb-ty jab is the best I've seen so far.
Next was the crown jewel of the evening, and in fact one of the best parades of all of Mardi Gras: the Krewe of Muses. It's the main reason we were out last night. The first thing we saw, even before a float, were the flambeaux. And a welcome sight they were.
Way back in the day, men with big torches would light the way for the parading krewes. These were the flambeaux. Today, they only carry the torches for carnival's past and it's always great to see them.
Traditionally, it's always working class men who carry these torches. In the past, I've only seen African-American men carrying them. But this year, many of the flambeaux were hispanic, which reflects a Now Orleans reality of a new injection into our labor force. It was great to see them plugged in to carnival as well. I have been hoping that this city will welcome and incorporate all the latinos and latinas that have come here to work. What a great side-effect it would be to add a strong Spanish-speaking contingent to the gumbo that is this city.
This was a wonderful sight, the lead float of the Krewe of Muses. The letters were glowing and color-shifting with fiber optic beauty, something my camera unfortunately couldn't capture.
One of our favorite bands is the St. Augustine Marching Band. We were sad to think that they might not roll this year (the school is not far from where we live and was flooded pretty badly). So we were thrilled to hear that three great band schools had joined forces to create a super band, the MAX Band (for St. Mary's Academy, St. Augustine High School and Xavier Prep).
The symbols of the Krewe of Muses is a high-heeled shoe. Their honored guest this year (the woman who founded the Katrina Krewe, a clean-up organization) got to ride in this:
Old Mother Hubbard, eat your heart out!
It used to be that the only bands you saw in parades like this were high school marching bands and brass bands. But in the last few years, some grown-ups have started putting together band and dance groups. What fun they have! It makes me want to join a marching band! Here's the Ninth Ward Marching Band, made up of legions of Ninth Ward hipsters.
And yes, for those of you with a discerning eye, that's Mr. Quintron in the fuzzy, white hat. Miss Pussycat was a few rows behind him, toting a wooden rifle (didn't get such a good picture of her).
One thing you'll never see in the high school bands: a smoke break. Gotta love those crazy hipsters!
Ecoee was super excited to catch one of the prized fiber-optic Muses necklaces.
The theme of the Muses parade was games. Most of the floats were a post-levee-failure satire in the form of a game (or a pun on a game). I imagine this one was curling.
Here's another hipster dance squad, the Pussyfooters. The one other one was the Lady Camel Toe Steppers.
Here's Rachel's favorite float.
In case you don't get it, it's a rebuke of the Gretna Police, who famously fired shots over the heads of New Orleans refugees trying to flee across the river on the GNO Bridge. The GPD told the refugees to turn around and go back to New Orleans. Ah, brotherly love.
This was an all-girl (the Muses parade is mostly full of women riders, and is definitely girl-centric) punk band, Pink Slip.
Every year, Muses lets a small krewe, the Krewe of the Rolling Elvi, parade with them. Basically, it's a bunch of Elvi riding little motor scooters. They crack me up!
Like all good krewes, they have a special "throw": the KotRE scarf. Here's Judy getting one.
The Muses ended their parade this year with a very touching float. It was float of Mnemosyne, the muse of history and memory. She was shedding a big tear and the float was empty, to remember those we have lost.
It was a great night, full of joy, sorrow and healing. We'll be back out for more parades on Sunday. Hope to see you out there!
There's been a national and local conversation about whether we should or should not have Mardi Gras this year, being just shy of six months out from the Great Levee Failure of 2005. Some say that celebrating in the streets sends the wrong message. They say that people will think everything must be fine here if we have time to put down our hammers to catch some plastic trinkets.
Well, everything is not fine here, and we're having Mardi Gras. And that is exactly as it should be. If New Orleanians had never done this before, then yes, now might be an inauspicious time to start such a party. But the Carnival tradition here is older than the city itself. New York had the Macy's Thanksgiving parade in 2001, just two months after lower Manhattan was devastated by the worst terrorist attack in this country's history. And that parade wasn't even 75 years old.
Frankly, I can't imagine New Orleans without Mardi Gras. It's such an excellent expression of so many fine aspects of this place. It's music and dancing. It's wit and wiseassery. It's color and commotion. It's beautiful and exuberant. It's contagious and it's for everyone. If you're lucky enough to have experienced it, then you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, I hope you someday will.
After Tuesday, we'll put our costumes back in the closet and try to find something to do with even more plastic beads and cups (though many of us are starting new collections this year). We'll pick up our hammers again and continue the frustrating process of trying to rebuild our lives and our city. But make no mistake--Mardi Gras 2006 is not a detour on the road to recovery. It's a vital part of the rebuilding process.
You tell 'em, sister:
Last night, we New Orleanians kicked off the homestretch of our 150th modern Mardi Gras. Three parades rolled on the uptown route; parades will continue to roll every day uptown through the end of Fat Tuesday. We caught the parades near Marengo and St. Charles on the neutral ground. We rendezvoused with many friends, which was great.
The parades are all smaller this year. And the city is permitting a shortened schedule, due to limited police resources. But all the spirit is intact. And the crowds were in full effect, drinking deeply at the carnival trough.
The first parade to roll was the Knights of Babylon. I don't know much about this krewe (as parading organizations are called here), but they had beautiful floats. Every parade has a theme, and this year every parade has at least some nod to the Great Levee Failure and its aftermath. I don't know exactly what Babylon's theme was, but all the floats had something to do with creatures of the water.
For those who have never been to a traditional Mardi Gras parade in New Orleans, here's a little about how it goes. The parade consists of floats and marching bands, interspersed. Under normal circumstances, a krewe can't roll with fewer than 14 floats and 10 (or is it 8?) marching bands. But this year, since very few high schools are reopened, the band requirement has been greatly reduced, if not eliminated. And the float requirement is way down as well.
On each float there are riders, who are always masked (sometimes with face paint). Each rider is surrounded by a horde of trinkets. For the duration of the parade (two to three hours, if you're a rider), the riders toss these tokens out to the crowd, which does its part by screaming wildly, jumping up and down, waving its many arms high in the air and otherwise begging its collective heart out.
And then there are the bands. Last fall, I was worried there wouldn't be any marching bands, considering the state of schools in this city (and the fact that lots of band lost equipment in the flood). So I was overjoyed last night to see my first marching band this year, the West Jeff High School band.
More great aquafauna flowed by.
I didn't get a great picture of this baby, but what a beauty, eh? Babylon really did have some beautiful floats.
After Babylon, came the Krewe of Chaos. They are traditionally a satirical parade, and this year was no exception. Of course, all their floats were about local, current events. Many of them were commentaries I'd already seen: lambasting former FEMA Director Michael Brown, lampooning Mayor Ray Nagin's "chocolate city" comments, etc. But they had a new one that was great.
For those unfamiliar with Aaron Broussard and why they would call him Pump-ty, Dumb-ty, here's a little background. Broussard is the president of Jefferson Parish, which is just west of New Orleans. When the Katrina was coming, he called for a mandatory evacuation, including the parish's pumping station operators. Since this whole area is both surround by water and below sea level, the pumping stations are a vital part of our local security. In New Orleans, the many breaches overwhelmed the pumping stations; they couldn't keep up and soon were rendered non-operational by rising flood waters, despite heroic efforts of their operators. Jefferson parish, however, was luckier, in that they didn't have any breaches of their own (just overflow from New Orleans). By all accounts, the pumping stations there would have been able to keep up with the rate of rising water and keep flood waters from rising high enough to seriously damage properties. But with the operators evacuated, the pumping stations sat idle as flood waters rose and destroyed many, many houses. Broussard has been (fairly, I think) criticized for ordering the evacuation of the pumping station operators as non-essential parish employees. But the Pump-ty Dumb-ty jab is the best I've seen so far.
Next was the crown jewel of the evening, and in fact one of the best parades of all of Mardi Gras: the Krewe of Muses. It's the main reason we were out last night. The first thing we saw, even before a float, were the flambeaux. And a welcome sight they were.
Way back in the day, men with big torches would light the way for the parading krewes. These were the flambeaux. Today, they only carry the torches for carnival's past and it's always great to see them.
Traditionally, it's always working class men who carry these torches. In the past, I've only seen African-American men carrying them. But this year, many of the flambeaux were hispanic, which reflects a Now Orleans reality of a new injection into our labor force. It was great to see them plugged in to carnival as well. I have been hoping that this city will welcome and incorporate all the latinos and latinas that have come here to work. What a great side-effect it would be to add a strong Spanish-speaking contingent to the gumbo that is this city.
This was a wonderful sight, the lead float of the Krewe of Muses. The letters were glowing and color-shifting with fiber optic beauty, something my camera unfortunately couldn't capture.
One of our favorite bands is the St. Augustine Marching Band. We were sad to think that they might not roll this year (the school is not far from where we live and was flooded pretty badly). So we were thrilled to hear that three great band schools had joined forces to create a super band, the MAX Band (for St. Mary's Academy, St. Augustine High School and Xavier Prep).
The symbols of the Krewe of Muses is a high-heeled shoe. Their honored guest this year (the woman who founded the Katrina Krewe, a clean-up organization) got to ride in this:
Old Mother Hubbard, eat your heart out!
It used to be that the only bands you saw in parades like this were high school marching bands and brass bands. But in the last few years, some grown-ups have started putting together band and dance groups. What fun they have! It makes me want to join a marching band! Here's the Ninth Ward Marching Band, made up of legions of Ninth Ward hipsters.
And yes, for those of you with a discerning eye, that's Mr. Quintron in the fuzzy, white hat. Miss Pussycat was a few rows behind him, toting a wooden rifle (didn't get such a good picture of her).
One thing you'll never see in the high school bands: a smoke break. Gotta love those crazy hipsters!
Ecoee was super excited to catch one of the prized fiber-optic Muses necklaces.
The theme of the Muses parade was games. Most of the floats were a post-levee-failure satire in the form of a game (or a pun on a game). I imagine this one was curling.
Here's another hipster dance squad, the Pussyfooters. The one other one was the Lady Camel Toe Steppers.
Here's Rachel's favorite float.
In case you don't get it, it's a rebuke of the Gretna Police, who famously fired shots over the heads of New Orleans refugees trying to flee across the river on the GNO Bridge. The GPD told the refugees to turn around and go back to New Orleans. Ah, brotherly love.
This was an all-girl (the Muses parade is mostly full of women riders, and is definitely girl-centric) punk band, Pink Slip.
Every year, Muses lets a small krewe, the Krewe of the Rolling Elvi, parade with them. Basically, it's a bunch of Elvi riding little motor scooters. They crack me up!
Like all good krewes, they have a special "throw": the KotRE scarf. Here's Judy getting one.
The Muses ended their parade this year with a very touching float. It was float of Mnemosyne, the muse of history and memory. She was shedding a big tear and the float was empty, to remember those we have lost.
It was a great night, full of joy, sorrow and healing. We'll be back out for more parades on Sunday. Hope to see you out there!
