We have spent a wonderful week with Bernadette’s Uncle Ed and Aunt Yvonne, talking about family history, looking at old pictures, hearing old stories. At their request, I am not including these stories in this post. I took a zillion pictures of Ed’s genealogy research so I can add it all to my ancestry.com trees. Also pictures of old pictures, hopefully we got them all labeled so we’ll remember who they are. We also saw Uncle Warren (Ed’s brother), his daughter Adrienne and her husband Andre, their daughter Alayna (sister to Alyse who we saw in L.A.), and Warren’s daughter Acelon who drove over from Mississippi to take her dad to a doctor appointment.
I got to do a little cooking here too. I had previously searched online for “natural foods New Orleans” and found a store not too far away. With a name like “Robert’s Fresh Market” it sounded good. I specifically searched for Beyond Beef, which I like to use to make a veggie pasta sauce. It was there; great I’m all set. But when we got to Roberts, it turned out to be quite disappointing. There was no Beyond Beef and no gluten-free bread. A couple of essentials as far as I was concerned.
We then went over to the big supermarket, nearer to the house, which I thought would be like Safeway and not have what I wanted. To my delight, I found gluten-free bread, but alas still no Beyond Beef. They did have Impossible Beef (a very similar product), which I remembered as having gluten in it so I did not buy any. When we got back to the house, Bernadette reminded me that Impossible Beef changed their recipe a few years ago and is now gluten-free. So later that afternoon I walked the short walk back to the supermarket and got some Impossible Beef.
We completely avoided the Mardi Gras crowds during our stay here, but we did see some of the pageantry on TV. We watched a bit of the parade on Tuesday, and a bit of the traditional ceremonies with a king and queen magnanimously waving their scepters over the crowd, and everyone in elaborate costumes. I have to say, not being from New Orleans, it all seems a little weird to me. Definitely a different culture down here.
We spent much of this week sitting around the kitchen table, listening to stories and asking questions. I found especially interesting the stories of people who our elders knew personally. These are first-hand stories, not just family legends. When Warren was there, it was especially animated conversation. He is full of boisterous energy and getting clear details from him was sometimes near impossible. Bernadette calls him the “charming raconteur” of the family who is the life of every party. He once told Bernadette, when Mardi Gras ends, you start getting ready for next year’s Mardi Gras.
Friday evening, we packed up and called the cab company to come at 7:45 Saturday morning. Then we stayed up to the wee hours poring over boxes and albums of old photos that Ed pulled off the shelves in his study.
The alarm went off too early and we dragged ourselves out of bed, packed up the last few things, had a bite to eat, and waited for our cab. It was late. I called and asked what was going on and they said it was just a few minutes away. A few minutes later the cabbie called and asked if we still needed a cab. Uh, well, yeah we do and get your butt over here. He showed up a few minutes later and we made it to the station on time. Good thing we had built some extra time into the planning.
New Orleans is the ultimate tourist town that goes from one party to the next, full of jazz music and a lively French Quarter. But there is the dark side. Our cabbie talked about “cancer alley” and all the chemical plants that line the river. Ultimately, before deciding you want to move to this fun-loving city, you really do want to check this out. Despite the chemical and oil and gas companies moving their headquarters to Houston, they still manage to dominate the Louisiana power and political structure.
We checked most of our bags, but they only check them to Lynchburg, not through to Roanoke. Ok whatever. We relaxed in the lounge for a few minutes and then they called us to board. We found our car and our room and discovered that all roomettes are not alike. This one has no closet, but it does have a fold-down sink. Then we noticed the funny-shaped ledge below the sink and realized it is actually a toilet. We checked with the attendant to be sure it was a working toilet before we tried to use it. So we’re essentially in a little bathroom with seats that change into beds. The different design of this roomette somehow made climbing into the upper bunk a little more difficult. When I was half-way up that evening, I found myself pondering the sanity of doing this at age 66.
We liked our attendant right off the bat when first thing he said was, “do you want to order some breakfast?” We were really glad to hear that because we thought breakfast would be closed before we boarded. His food service is great, but he did not give us any orientation to the room (light switches, sink and toilet, call button, etc). We change trains in Lynchburg, VA tomorrow morning where we have a couple hours layover, then on to Roanoke.
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Adrian Dee, flutist, composer 