|
~*~*~
EPILOGUE
~*~*~
We are trav'ling in the footsteps
of those who've gone before
And we'll all be reunited on a new and sunlit shore.
Oh, when the saints go marching
in
Oh, when the saints go marching in
Lord, how I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in.
And when the sun refuse to
shine
And when the sun refuse to shine
Lord, how I want to be in that number
When the sun refuse to shine.
And when the moon turns red
with blood
And when the moon turns red with blood
Lord, how I want to be in that number
When the moon turns red with blood.
Oh, when the trumpet sounds
its call
Oh, when the trumpet sounds its call
Lord, how I want to be in that number
When the trumpet sounds its call.
Some say this world of trouble
is the only one we need
But I'm waiting for that morning when the new world is revealed.
"When the Saints Go
Marching In" -
traditional spiritual
~*~*~
Chapter 65
September 25, 2006
This was one insane
Monday night.
It was the return
of the city's beloved Saints to the refurbished Louisiana Superdome.
The NFL and FEMA had poured $185 million into the repair of the
stadium. The citizens had an answer to the naysayers that said
there were more important things to do than fix a place to watch
football - for the first time since the team came into being
in 1967, the entire regular-season home schedule was sold out.
This was football.
Saints football. Nothing was more important to this battered
and nearly-beaten city. The city was coming back, and the Saints
were the first sign of it. Yes, the team had won the first two
games of the season, but it didn't make that much difference.
The Saints represented normalcy - a return to pre-K days when
most of the housing stock wasn't destroyed, damaged or deserted.
The citizens would
work hard tomorrow, just as they had done for over a year. But
tonight, they were going to party. What made it bigger was that
the battle with tonight's opponent - the Atlanta Falcons, the
damned Dirty Birds, the city's most hated rivals - was being
nationally broadcasted on ESPN's Monday Night Football.
The crowds were
such that it was silly to try to drive and park at the Superdome,
so the Darcys and their guests arrived in a stretch limo and
were dropped off a block away. Walking from Loyola Avenue, the
group made their way up the ramp to the plaza. Emblazoned on
the side of the building was a huge banner that proclaimed, "Our
Home - Our Team - Be a Saint." The NFL had brought in
the Goo Goo Dolls as pre-game entertainment for some god-forsaken
reason.
"Where the
hell are the Neville Brothers?" grouched Chris Breaux.
"Aaron won't
sing in New Orleans because of the mold," his wife said,
patting his arm. "It's okay, sugar. Don't get pissed off
about the band. We're here to enjoy ourselves." She turned
to their hosts. "Thanks again for inviting us, guys."
"Don't mention
it, Mari," said Will Darcy. "We couldn't have this
celebration without you."
"You got that
right," cried Chuck Bingley, one arm around Jane's shoulders.
Suddenly, he began waving. "Hey, Carrie! Over here!"
Carrie Buford, in
a Reggie Bush jersey, waved as she jogged over to the group.
She gave hugs to everybody and kisses to the out-of-towners.
"Where's John?"
asked George Katz.
Carrie waved her
hand off into the distance. "Somewhere over there, with
the other First Responders. They're going to be honored tonight."
"That's great,
Carrie," said Elizabeth. "Are you going to be able
to sit with him?"
She assured her
that she would. She then looked hard at Lizzy. "Wow. I can't
tell who's further along - you or Emma."
Lizzy giggled as
she caressed her pregnant belly. "It's as bad as you and
Jane last year! We're what, Em? A couple of days apart?"
Emma Katz ran a
hand over her own six-month along bump. "December 15 for
me."
"And you, Lizzy?"
Carrie asked.
"The tenth,"
she smiled as Will's arms enveloped her from behind.
Mari shook her head.
"Jezze, I don't even wanna know what was in the water back
in March."
"Your day's
coming, redneck," laughed Emma.
"Redneck?"
cried Carrie. "She's in Chicago now. She's a damned Yankee."
"No way!"
Mari assured her. "You can take the girl out of the South,
but you can't take the Redneck out of the girl!"
"Still, you
just wait," Emma insisted.
Chris whispered
in Mari's ear, "It's not for lack of trying."
"Chris!"
"Are y'all
staying at Pemberley?" Carrie asked.
"Yeah,"
said George. "We fly back to Baltimore tomorrow."
"Mari and I
are staying through the weekend," Chris added.
Elizabeth watched
the interaction with a lump in her throat. It was William's idea
to have the gang all together again. While the box was reserved
for DGS executives, he had extra seats on the 20-yard line, and
that was where his guests would be. They would meet up after
the game to return to Pemberley.
As wonderful and
as normal as it was to have her friends in her house, Lizzy knew
it was a temporary joy. The Breauxes would go back to Chicago
until they could get Chris a job back in New Orleans. LSU's Charity
Hospital was virtually destroyed - it would be a while before
a position opened up again for him in the Big Easy.
It was different
for the Katzes. Even though Tulane Hospital had reopened back
in February, they were not coming back. There were too many bad
memories here. Emma and George had established themselves in
their new home in Baltimore. They had joined the thousands of
others who had been blown away forever from the Crescent City
by Katrina's evil winds.
Yes, New Orleans
would come back, Lizzy told herself for the hundredth time. But
it would never be the same. Just as America now lived in a post-9/11
world, New Orleans would eternally be pre-K and post-K.
"You okay,
babe?" Will asked, noticing Lizzy's pensive expression.
"I'm fine,"
she answered, touching his hand. "It's just…"
she jerked her head at their friends, deep in conversation.
"Yeah, I know.
I feel the same."
"Live for today,
Will," she said into his eyes.
"That's us
- that's out battle cry," he grinned. "You can't keep
us Cajuns down."
"Yeah you rite."
"Hey!"
Chuck cried. "They're opening the doors."
Carrie turned towards
the door. "Oops - that's my cue to scoot. I'd better get
back to the others, or Major Buford will put out a search party
for me!"
"Major? He
got promoted?" asked Emma.
"Yes. The Guard's
trying to get him to re-enlist."
"Is he?"
"Haven't decided
yet. Gotta run. I'll call you - bye!" Carrie waved as she
fought her way through the crowd.
Lizzy looked around.
"Will, didn't you say Richard was going to be here?"
"Yeah, but
he's with the First Responders."
Chris leaned over.
"How's he doing, anyway?"
"Okay."
He paused. "You heard about him and Olivia?"
"Yeah. Is the
divorce final yet?"
"Not yet, they're
still trying to work things out. But she won't leave Atlanta,
and he won't leave New Orleans. It doesn't look good."
"Crap. That's
tough."
"Yeah. He's
got to make a choice." Will's glance at Lizzy was a clear
indication where his choice would lie. Lizzy was not insensitive
to it, and she took his hand. "All right, everybody - you've
got your tickets? Good. We'll meet up outside this gate after
the game. Have a great time."
The Bingleys, Breauxes
and Katzes moved towards their gate as the Darcys headed for
the entrance to the skyboxes. Lizzy and Will would have preferred
to be with them, but there were customers and board members to
entertain in the luxury suite. The Darcys would have to wait
to be with their friends until the big after-game party. They
were almost there when they noticed a TV reporter sticking a
microphone into the face of DGS' VP, Leon Anderson. Mrs. Anderson
was looking on impassively, and both were wearing Saints jerseys.
"Hello - Bryan
Thorpe, Action NOW News. Can you share with our viewers your
feelings about tonight's event? How was this facility repaired
while so many of your people still have no housing?"
Leon realized this
moron was only talking to him because he was black, so he gave
it to him with both barrels.
"Where the
hell are you from?"
"Umm…Delaware…"
"Figures. Don't
you understand our economy is based on three things - petroleum,
shipping, and tourism?" he lectured the reporter as he counted
off the industries on his fingers. "Most of my people-"
he made quotation marks in the air, "-are in the tourism
industry. How the hell are they gonna have jobs if the tourists
don't come? Repairing the Superdome shows the rest of the nation
that New Orleans is open for business." Leon looked directly
into the camera. "C'mon down, America! Party on Bourbon
Street! And while you're here spending your money, you just might
see how much else has to be done."
He then returned
his attention to Thorpe. "Besides, do you have any idea
what this team - what this building - means to this city? To
this whole state - the whole region? Look around you. There are
people here from Mississippi, Alabama - everywhere!
"You think
we've forgotten that thousands of our friends and neighbors died?
This is as much for them as it is for us!
"I…I can't
explain it better than that. It's what we are! You either
understand it, or you don't! And if you don't, then get that
microphone the hell out of my face, you idiot!"
With that, Leon,
with one arm around his wife, brushed past Thorpe and joined
his boss. "Goddamn asshole," he shook his head as the
foursome went inside.
"Uh…Justin,"
said Thorpe into his mike, "cut that from the tape, will
you?"
The DGS party made
it to the private suite. Unlike the rest of the stadium, the
sky boxes had not been completely repaired. The floors were bare
concrete, the walls were awaiting new wallpaper, and the TVs
had yet to be replaced. But the seats were new, and that was
all that mattered.
Below, from their
seats on the sidelines, the Darcys' guests had a great view of
the pre-game entertainment. U2 and Green Day blew the doors off
the house with a rendition of "Wake Me Up When September
Ends," before sequencing into a driving cover of the obscure
Scottish punk band The Skids' equally obscure song, "The
Saints are Coming," followed by U2's "Beautiful Day."(1)
A few minutes later, Mari gasped.
"Irma! Look,
baby, it's Irma - with Allen!"
Sure enough, the
two legends of New Orleans music were at mid-field to sing the
National Anthem - Irma Thomas on vocals, and Allen Toussaint
on keyboards(2). Mari was not the only member of the crowd that
had tears in their eyes as they sang.
"One day, babe,"
Chris promised in her ear, "one day we'll be able to come
home." Mari smiled and nodded.
As one, the 70,000
faithful rose to their feet as their beloved Saints, in their
usual home uniforms of white jerseys and gold pants, took the
field, but the visitors weren't impressed. The Atlanta Falcons
had heard it before and still kicked the other team's ass. Tonight
was sure to be no different. Atlanta, wearing red jerseys with
black helmets, won the coin toss and assumed they would quiet
the locals after scoring quickly on their NFC South arch-rivals.
The black-and-gold dressed crowd continued to cheer, a noise
not heard in Louisiana in over a year.
It didn't quite
work out the way the Dirty Birds had planned. On the fourth play
from scrimmage, ninety seconds into the game, as Atlanta was
attempting to punt the ball from deep in their own territory,
Saints linebacker Steve Gleason sliced in and blocked the kick.
Cornerback Curtis DeLoatch jumped on the football in the end
zone for the score.
A thunderous roar
went up, rocking the newly-repaired building. It was as if a
whole city - those at the game, those without, and those who
had departed this world forever - had found their voice:
"WHO DAT!?
WHO DAT!? WHO DAT SAY DEY GONNA BEAT DEM SAINTS!?"
For one bright,
shinning moment, we were all New Orleanians.
The Falcons never
stood a chance.
~*~*~
I'm goin' back home to see
my baby in the land of Carnival Queens
I'm goin' back home to see my baby
Back to New Orleans
Fe-Na-Nay My Parane, my Barane and my Maw and Paw
Gonna plant my feet on Bourbon Street
I'll be there for the Mardi Gras.
I'm goin' back home to see
my lady and I will never roam.
Gonna get my fill of that etouffe,
New Orleans is my home.
I'm goin' back home to see my baby in the land of beautiful Queens
I'm goin' back home to see my baby
Back to New Orleans
Get some crawfish, jambalaya,
red beans and fine pralines.
Gonna get some lovin' that satisfies in New Orleans
I'm goin' back home to see
my baby in the land of Carnival Queens
I'm goin' back home to see my baby
Back to New Orleans
Fe-Na-Nay My Parane, my Barane and my Maw and Paw
Gonna plant my feet on Bourbon Street
I'll be there for the Mardi Gras.
"Goin' Back to New
Orleans", by Joe
Liggins
~*~*~
THE END…
AND A NEW BEGINNING.
~*~*~
(1) - You can see
the performance of U2 and Green Day at the Superdome here.
(2) - It's not the National Anthem, but to hear a little Irma
Thomas & Allen Toussaint. just go here.
|
