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Chapter 8
January 1999
Lizzy and Mari were
sitting around in Emma's Uptown living room on the last Saturday
in January, drinking soft drinks and visiting, when Lizzy's cell
phone rang. She excused herself and took the call. From her side
of the conversation, her friends could tell it was good news.
Lizzy covered the
phone. "It's my sister, Jane! She's gonna get Mardi Gras
off and come visit!"
The girls expressed
their delight at the announcement. "Where is she going to
stay?" asked Emma.
Lizzy laughed. "Haven't
got that far. I guess she'll bunk in with Mari and me."
Mari nodded.
Emma made a face.
"Nonsense! She can stay here. We've got plenty of room."
"Em, are you
sure?"
Emma smiled. "Hold
on a sec." She got up and walked towards her father's study.
Meanwhile, Lizzy
returned to her call, "Jane, hang on - we're working on
something here."
Emma opened the
study door. "Papa, can Lizzy's sister stay here over Mardi
Gras?"
Abe looked up from
his La-Z-Boy, a basketball game on the TV. "Sure, Princess."
"Thank you,
Papa!" She returned to her friends, flashing a "thumbs
up" signal.
"Jane,"
Lizzy cried happily into the phone, "Emma, my friend from
Newcomb, says you can stay at her place… No, it was her
idea. Here, talk to her." She handed the phone to Emma.
"Jane? Hi,
I'm Emma Weinberg. I want you to know that my father and I would
be happy to host you while you're here for Carnival. We have
several spare bedrooms… No, it wouldn't be an imposition
at all. Lizzy's a dear friend, and I look forward to meeting
you… Fine… Lizzy will send you the directions. Here's
your sister." Emma returned the phone to Lizzy.
Lizzy was bubbling.
"Jane, I'll send you an email with all the details…
Yeah, me too. Oh, this is gonna be so much fun! Talk to you later,
Sis! Bye!"
~*~*~
February, 1999
A HISTORY OF MARDI GRAS
A series for the Loyola VOICE by Lizzy Boudreaux
It's that time of
year, gang. Time to put on silly costumes and stand by the street,
killing ourselves diving after junk we'll be throwing away in
March. And drinking way too much the whole time. It's Carnival
time in the Big Easy!
For the next few
issues, I will be exploring just what the heck this Mardi Gras
thing is all about. Like a lot of things, it has its roots in
religion. Somehow going to Loyola, you just knew I was going
to bring up religion, didn't you? Well, since this place is supposed
to be a place of higher education, just sit back and let me school
you.
It all has to do
with Lent, the forty days before Easter. (You Catholics out there,
help me with the heathens.) During that time of introspection,
one is supposed to sacrifice - a farewell of sorts to the pleasures
of the flesh - and refrain from the good things in life: meat,
chocolate and booze. But were not going to throw them away, are
we? Let's use them up first!
Carnival, the time
between the Feast of the Epiphany (also known as Kings' Day or
Twelfth Night - you know, that "Twelve Days of Christmas")
and Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, is celebrated throughout
the Roman Catholic world. Brazil, for example, is renowned for
its elaborate Carnaval street parades, where dancers strut
their stuff to a Latin beat. But no one does Carnival quite the
way it is done here. Nobody else throws cheap trinkets from floats.
Mardi Gras, French
for Fat Tuesday, is really the last day of the Carnival season.
It starts in New Orleans on Twelfth Night - January 6. It continues
with balls and other celebrations throughout southern Louisiana
and the Gulf coast. During the last twelve days of Carnival,
hundreds of parades all across the region build up to the big
day, Shrove Tuesday, when Rex, the King of Carnival, takes over
the streets of the Crescent City. It's party central of the entire
US of A.
It's a lot better
than the whole Pancake Day stuff in Britain, Ireland, and Australia,
huh?
Many are surprised
to learn that the first Mardi Gras celebration occurred in Mobile,
Alabama in 1703. The first modern day pageant in this city was
presented in 1857, a nighttime parade by the Mystick Krewe of
Comus. The first daytime street parades began with the School
of Design, better known as the Rex Organization, in 1872. The
Zulu Social and Pleasure Club, a mostly black krewe, rolled for
the first time in 1909.
Most Mardi Gras
krewes developed from private social clubs that have restrictive
membership policies. Since all of these parade organizations
are completely funded by their members - most of whom are the
movers and shakers of the community - the event is called the
"Greatest Free Show on Earth." And aren't we glad about
that - leaves more cash for beer.
The original purpose
of Mardi Gras krewes was to parody European monarchs. Later,
the themes of the parades and the maskers have been to mock politicians
and current events. That's why krewe members were originally
masked - so the powerful wouldn't know who was making fun of
them. It might be their own brother-in-law!
The word "krewe"
is itself a purposeful misspelling of the word "crew."
It has become traditional to name krewes after figures from mythology.
Secrecy is all-important in the krewes - in fact, Comus never
reveals the identity of its king to the public…
~*~*~
William was working
on a term paper for his management course when his phone rang.
He grabbed it automatically. "Will here," he said absentmindedly.
"Will, it's
Lizzy. Did I catch you at a bad time?"
All thoughts of
cash flows and exchange rates fled from his head. "Lizzy!
No, no… just working on a paper. It's all good. What's up?"
"Is Chris
there? I would like to talk to him."
"Chris?"
Will repeated. Why did she want to talk to him? As soon as his
jealousy flared, it subsided. "Yeah, he's right here. Hang
on." He passed the phone to his roommate.
"Chris do
you know anything about Mardi Gras in Mamou, Louisiana?"
"The courir?
Sure, I've ridden in it."
"Really?
That's so cool. I'm writing a series about Mardi Gras, and I've
never seen the Mamou courir. Do you know somebody who I can interview?"
"Never seen
it? Cher, that's sad. That's how we do it in Cajun country."
Chris talked a bit about how his father had ridden in the courir,
and he had followed suit while in high school.
"We didn't
do any of that stuff in Chackbay. Just the usual parades."
"That's the
difference between you Swamp Rats and us Plains Cajuns."
"So, can
I interview you?"
"I've got a
better idea - want to see it in person?"
"See it?
Of course - I would love to see it! Are you serious?"
"Yeah. I was
planning to go home on Lundi Gras anyway to see the folks. You
can come with me; we'll put you up."
"I…
I… sure! Let's do it! Thank you, Chris!"
"No problem,
Lizzy. Here's Will again."
Will took the phone.
"I take it you're going to Lafayette for Mardi Gras?"
"Just Monday
and Tuesday. This is so neat! I get to see a real live courir.
My sister's coming in - oh no!"
"What? What
is it?"
"I forgot
that my sister, Jane, is coming in for Mardi Gras on Friday the
12th. I can't abandon her to go to Mamou on the 15th! I'll have
to cancel the trip."
"Why don't
you take her with you? I'm sure Chris won't mind." Maybe
I'll join you.
"But she's
never seen Carnival Day in New Orleans - Rex, Zulu, all that
stuff. That's why she's coming. And I wanted to introduce her
to you and my friends."
Will almost said
he'd met her sister when his brain kicked in. 'I wanted to
introduce her to you and my friends,' she had said. She wants
to introduce me to her sister. That's good, isn't it? Don't say
anything stupid now, you idiot! "It's okay, Lizzy, she
can hang out with us. You go do your research, and we'll make
sure she has a nice time."
There was a slight
pause. "Really, Will? You'd do that for me?"
Suddenly, Darcy
realized something: You'd be amazed what I would do for you,
Elizabeth. Aloud he said, "I would be happy to, Lizzy."
Lizzy's voice was
flustered. "Well… that's very nice. Thank you."
There was another pause before Lizzy teased, "I guess
she can help fend off Carrie."
Darcy groaned. "Oh,
man, is she coming in, too?"
He heard Lizzy's
laughter. "I just assumed. My guess is she'll be there
wearing as little as the weather permits, Darcy - and throwing
herself at you!"
"And you're
gonna abandon me?"
"You're
a big boy, Darcy. You can handle yourself." Her tone changed. "Thank you
for your offer. You're a good friend, Will."
"Anytime, Lizzy."
"I'd better
go now. Thank Chris for me, and tell him we'll firm up the time
for the trip later. Bye, Will."
"Goodbye, Lizzy."
Will hung up the phone thoughtfully.
He and Lizzy had
met several times for coffee since their movie date: nothing
romantic - just two friends sharing java and conversation for
a half-hour. Will was growing impressed with Lizzy's maturity
and mind. She was both smart and sharp, and he had to be on his
toes to meet the challenge of her banter and opinions. He found
her good-natured and fair-minded. She accepted that they didn't
always agree, and she was willing to re-consider her stands,
assuming his arguments were on firm ground. For his part, he
saw that she had some viewpoints he needed to mull over, as well.
It didn't hurt that
he found her prettier each time he saw her. She wasn't model-thin,
like most of the coeds that pursued him. Her curves made her
lovely, real, and approachable. A man could be very happy
exploring that territory for a lifetime.
Chris noticed the
expression on Will's face. "Anything wrong, buddy?"
"What…?
No, I'm fine. Why'd you ask?"
"You had a
weird expression on your face." Chris considered a moment,
then, "Umm… Will, are you okay with me taking Lizzy
to Lafayette?"
"Why shouldn't
I be?"
"I'm just helping
a friend with her research."
"Right - I
know that."
"It's not like
it's a date…"
"No, it's not.
I mean…" Will frowned. "Do you want to date her?"
Chris laughed. "No…no."
"What's so
funny?"
"You, buddy
- you ought to see the look on your face!"
"What look?"
he asked lamely.
"Don't worry,
partner, I won't do anything to screw-up your chances with the
lovely Miss Boudreaux."
"Humph,"
grunted Will, unwilling to give his roommate the satisfaction
of being right. "Just research, right?"
"Right."
Will nodded and
returned to his term paper. A wasted exercise, as he could not
concentrate. His phone call with Lizzy and subsequent conversation
with Chris had opened his eyes to a new possibility.
Jesus Christ,
am I falling for her?
~*~*~
"So everything's
all taken care of?" asked Mari.
"It looks that
way," said Lizzy. "Jane comes in on the Friday before
Mardi Gras and stays at Emma's, I go to Lafayette with Chris
to see Mardi Gras at Mamou, and Will and the guys will entertain
Jane on Mardi Gras day."
"Wow - I wish
I could see Mamou."
"You wanna
come? I'm sure Chris won't mind."
"Nah. John
wouldn't like it."
"How're you
two doing, anyway?"
Mari sighed. "I
don't know, Lizzy. Most times he's all sweet and funny and attentive
- I just wanna eat him up." She looked at a photo of them
she had on her nightstand. "I really like the way he kisses
me and holds me."
"Y'all done
it yet?"
Mari shook her head.
"No. It's not like I don't want to …"
"But…?"
Mari laughed. "There's
always some big, hairy 'but,' isn't there?" She frowned.
"Every time it seems like the right time, something happens.
And then, he doesn't call for days at a time. I'm starting to
wonder if…if he doesn't see us - doesn't see me as anything
more than a potential roll in the hay."
Lizzy sat on the
bed. "If that's the way you feel, then maybe you shouldn't
sleep with him."
"But I don't
feel that way all the time. When I'm with him, and it's good,
it feels so right. Maybe…" she paused. "Maybe
if we did sleep together, it would, you know, show him how good
'Us' can be."
"Mari, sex
to keep a guy around never works. I know. Remember, I told you
about my old boyfriend back in Thibodaux?"
"Yeah, I know…but
it hasn't been easy on John."
Lizzy held her hand.
"Mari, look, I like John, but I gotta say I don't like the
way he treats you sometimes."
"But, guys
are dense - you know…"
"Sure, I know
that. It could be the usual guy stupidity." Lizzy smiled.
"It's up to us to train them right. So, just go slow. If
John's the one for you, he'll respect that. Then, when it's right…you'll
know."
Mari bit her lip.
"You're right - no need to rush things." She sat up
straighter. "John'll prove himself, just wait and see. So,
how're things with you and Will?"
"What?"
Mari's knack for changing the subject always threw Lizzy. "Umm…fine.
We're…friends."
"Yeah, sure."
Mari mimicked a phone call, "'Really, Will? You'd do
that for me? You're a good friend, Will.' Oh, yes, you are
just friends!"
"Mari, c'mon!
We've just gone out to see a movie. Once!"
"Mmm hmm…and
how many times for coffee?"
"A…few
times."
Mari smirked. "You
might think he's just a friend, but he might think differently."
"You're reading
WAY too much into this, Mari. Trust me."
~*~*~
A HISTORY OF MARDI GRAS
A series for the Loyola VOICE by Lizzy Boudreaux
The official colors
for Mardi Gras are purple, green, and gold. Yes, there are "official"
colors. For something that was set up back in the day to make
fun of everything, Mardi Gras has lots of rules. These colors
were chosen in 1872 by the School of Design, better known as
the Rex Organization. They chose these colors to stand for the
following:
* Purple represents
justice
* Green stands for faith
* Gold stands for power
The tradition of
throwing trinkets to the crowds during Mardi Gras parades was
initiated in the early 1870s by the Twelfth Night Revelers and
has become a time-honored expectation. It began one year when
the parade featured Santa Klaus aboard a float, dispensing small
trinkets to the watching children. Exactly why they did it is
lost to history. Everybody liked it, and it continues to this
day.
In 1884, Rex threw
the first medallions (silver-dollar-sized commemorative coins
later called doubloons) instead of the customary trinkets. Early
medallions were much heavier than those minted today and were
usually awarded only as ball favors. Today's doubloons are usually
aluminum and anodized in a variety of colors, depicting the parade
theme on one side and the emblem of the particular krewe on the
other. They're lighter and cheaper, which is always good. Many
of these doubloons later become collectors' items. Other popular
throws include long strings of pearlized beads - which girls
just love - and plastic cups bearing the emblems of the krewes
- great for drinking beer. Something for everybody! The traditional
cry of parade-goers who are pleading for throws is, "Throw
me something, mister!" unless the maskers are tossing those
long pearls; then you hear, "Show me your t*ts!"
The first thing
tourists learn about Mardi Gras parades is that they don't go
though the French Quarter. There's no room there, Gomer! Instead
there are two routes to Canal Street. The Mid Town route is Canal
Street from the central part of the city to the river, before
turning to disband in the Convention Center. The Uptown route
starts on Napoleon before turning downriver along St. Charles
Avenue to Downtown and Canal.
Most tourists stay
near their hotels and watch the parades with the throngs Downtown.
The crowds are usually twenty to thirty deep, held behind steel
barricades. This is great for the local merchants, as they have
a steady stream of customers. Good for pickpockets, too, but
you didn't hear that from me. Can't have the Tourism people mad
at me.
It is also an advantage
to the residents. They watch the parades from the relative quiet
of the residential areas closer to the start of the parades.
It is far more family-friendly - no Girls Gone Wild there. Boys,
choose your poison: naked women or room to stretch out and bringing
your own beer. Tough call, huh?
It takes college
students a carnival season to figure this out. Everyone wants
to have at least one Mardi Gras downtown. Afterwards, they learn
what the locals know - stay out of downtown or leave town…
~*~*~
The slickly-sweet
smell of marijuana filled the apartment as Greg took another
toke. "Ahh… It's all good, JW."
John took a hit
off his own joint. "Yeah you rite."
"Got any plans
for Mardi Gras, dude?"
"Nope - just
hang out with Mari, I guess."
"You gonna
get you some o' that, or are you gonna keep beatin' your meat?"
"Fuck you,
Greg."
"Fuck you,
queer-boy. She still holding out on you, ain't she?" Greg
laughed. "If you weren't spankin' the monkey, your balls
would fall off!"
John took a puff
and then set the joint onto an ashtray. "You said it. Sometimes
it's this close," he held two fingers about an inch
apart, "and something goes wrong."
"What - she's
frigid?"
"Nah, nothing
like that. Just - shit happens, you know what I mean?" Like
you and Tommy.
"Got'cha. You
need something to set the mood, dude."
"Like what?
She won't do weed, dude. Says it hurts her vocal cords."
"I can get
something better than that…" Before Greg could finish,
the apartment door opened. "Well, look who's back - the
Chicken Man! How're you doing there, Chicken Man?"
Tommy Bertram, still
dressed in his Popeye's Fried Chicken uniform, closed the door
behind them. "Hello, Greg. Long time no see," he said
coldly.
"You didn't
bring us a bucket?"
"Must have
slipped my mind." He turned to John. "Can I talk to
you for a moment, John?"
After the two went
into Tommy's bedroom, John began, "I'm sorry, dude - he
just came over…"
"Hold it, John,"
Tommy interrupted. "Look, when I moved back in, you promised
no grass, no drugs. I can't have that shit around, dude - it's
bad for my recovery."
"I know, man,
I know. Give me a minute - I'll get rid of him."
Tommy nodded, and
John left the bedroom. "Greg, umm… you see…"
Greg looked at him
with empty eyes. "You're throwing me out, Waguespack?"
John swallowed.
How do I get out of this one? Neither spoke.
Greg's cackle broke
the silence. "Gotcha! It's cool, man. I've got places to
go, anyway. 'Sides, I guess Chicken Man's rehab buddies'll get
pissed if he smells of ganja. Losers."
John's relief was
almost visible as Greg gathered up his stuff. As he turned to
go, Greg said, "See what I mean about straights? You change
your mind, you call me. See you later."
After the door closed,
Tommy came out of his room. No longer wearing his uniform - he
was in a t-shirt and jeans - he walked over and opened a window.
"Hey!"
cried John. "It's forty degrees out there!"
Tommy gave him a
look. "Gotta clear the air, man." He went to open the
kitchen window, too. When he returned to the living room, John
was putting on a jacket.
"I'm freezing
my ass off, man," he complained.
"Tough."
He sat on the couch, while John took the armchair. "Look,
John, we'll go over this one more time. I was really, really
messed up before. If it wasn't for Greenleaves, I might be dead
now. Understand? Dead. I can't do this stuff anymore -
I can't handle it."
"I'm sorry,
dude."
"Let me finish,
okay? When I got out, I convinced my old man to let me move back
here. We… we got real close during rehab. Worked out some
issues. I really let him down, dude. He - damn, this is hard
- he loves me, an' I love him. I really fucked up. But we're
getting better."
He looked at John.
"That was the only way I was able to convince him to let
me move back here. But there's some conditions." He ticked
them off on his fingers. "One - No drugs, or access
to drugs, or even the presence of drugs. Two - I go to
NA and do my rehab. Three - I get a job. Four -
I take some classes at UNO this summer.
"If I do all
that and stay clean, I can re-enter Tulane in the fall. Meanwhile,
he's helping with the bills - including the rent."
"Yeah, and
I appreciate that."
"John, you
promised me and my dad that there wouldn't be any drugs 'round
here. You gotta keep your word, man."
"It wasn't
my fault. Greg came here and lit up."
"Shit - who
are you kidding? I saw you with a joint!" Tommy stood up.
"Do you have any fucking idea how hard this is? I
smell this shit, and I wanna go nuts! Do you know? Do you know
I wake up every morning - every fucking morning - and
tell myself, 'Today, I won't do drugs. Today, I'll keep clean.'
Every morning, dude - maybe for the rest of my fucking life!"
He reached into
his pocket and pulled out a coin. "See what it says on the
back of this thing? 'One Day at a Time.' That's what I gotta
do.
"Look, dude,
the reason I talked my dad into coming back was helping you out.
You're my best friend, John. I know you need help paying for
this place. I can help you, I can prove that I can make it on
my own, and maybe…" Tommy paused.
"What, man?"
asked John.
"Maybe help
you some more. Like…why don't you come with me to NA? You
know, just to listen in?"
"What?"
John cried. "I don't need to go to Narcotics Anonymous!
There's nothing wrong with me!"
Yeah there is,
buddy, thought Tommy.
You're weak, John, real weak. That's why you let Greg run
all over you. "Look, it was just a suggestion. You don't
go, that's cool. It's there if you want it, man."
"Look, don't
get all weird on me."
"Like I said,
it's cool. But you gotta keep your word, John. You keep the drugs
out, I stay and help out. Greg comes back and best friend or
not, I'm outta here. Simple as that."
"Right."
Tommy reached over
and patted John once on the knee. "I'll never forget how
you helped me, John. You're my pal 'til the end. But I gotta
get healthy and stay healthy. We okay?"
John reached over
and shook his hand. "We're okay," he told his best
friend.
Tommy grinned. "Then
how 'bout helping me close these windows, buddy? It's freezing
in here!"
As they did so,
John thought furiously, How do I explain this to Greg?
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