Not so 'Big' - still 'Easy'...

“You blows who you is.”

- Louis Armstrong,

Musician

Extraordinaire

The conference presentation had gone well.  

The next day, I had a break in the morning and the evening free.  Like the famous Muffelatta sandwiches of this town, the ‘meat’ represented the workday, but it was the two slices of 10-inch (25.4cm) diameter focaccia like bread (my morning and evening) that turned the day into a delicious adventure!!

It began with a trumpet player in the French Quarter and ended with ‘dancing Bill’ at Mulate’s Cajun Restaurant…but that is a little ahead of the story.

The morning…

The guy was playing ‘Silent Night’ in the background.  It was barely discernable in the chatter of the crowded outdoor coffeehouse – Café du Monde, serving chicory coffee and beignets smothered in powdered sugar since 1862.  It is one of the most popular tourist attractions in New Orleans, partly because it is in the French Quarter on Decatur street, a stone’s throw from the Mississippi River…AND just across the street from Jackson Square – the highlights of which are street artists, fortune tellers, horse drawn carriages and the St. Louis Cathedral, once visited by Pope John during an American Papal visit.

It was odd, picking up the trumpet sound, because the weather was sunny and warm, Christmas was a long way off and the chatter of lightly clothed tourists filled the air.  It was one of those things that seems out of place, but once identified I found myself humming along.  What ultimately made this trumpet player stand out, however, was not the volume of his play, but the length of time he held the next to last note, “…sleep in heavenly peace…”

I was subconsciously expecting the finish, but it didn’t come.  He held the “…heavenly…” note nearly longer than two minutes.  It became evident I wasn’t the only one for whom this trumpet player had now taken full attention.  The chatter got quieter as you could see people stopping the small talk, becoming mildly uncomfortable anticipating the song’s resolution.  I felt a slight sensation of claustrophobia as I waited…and waited…and waited.  Apparently this fellow could ‘nose breath’ whilst pumping out enough air to hold the note like an aboriginal didgeridoo player – how do they do that!!   Finally when he played the last note, there was a collective sigh by almost everyone in the place. 

I settled into the Café for a morning snack.  The chicory café au lait and the beignets were delicious – sitting and watching the animated tourists at the other tables added a wide variety of people to watch – worth the price of admission.  Just then, a fight broke out.  It was one of those mindless pushing and shoving matches the ‘Café’ is noted for.  Yes sir, there are few things that compare the sheer energy of pigeons and sparrows fighting for a bit of beignet that has found its way to the ground.  Focus and unrelenting body blocking was the key to successful acquisition of the delicacy.

As I headed through familiar back streets of the French Quarter to the hotel for the workday, I appreciated this delightful early morning diversion.

The day…

Work went well.

The evening…

There is little doubt the fellow was no spring chicken.  He was more like a plump, seriously balding, mid to late seventies senior citizen who looked like he had misplaced his tour group on leave from an assisted living facility.  He was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt covered with bright red print crayfish – giving the impression of a fellow who had been attacked by small crustaceans in a Hollywood ‘B’ movie.  The only thing brighter red than the crayfish print shirt were his suspenders, clearly necessary to hold up the trousers on his beltless portly body!

If one had seen this man sitting on a park bench by the river or a dinner table somewhere, it would have been easy to think he was just marking time toward the end game of his life…waiting to take his last breath.  One might have thought that, BUT one would have been wrong!

Dinner…

I knew of a place a few blocks from my hotel and headed out to eat.  As I walked by the door of Mulate’s Cajun restaurant – on my way to somewhere else – I almost unconsciously opened the door and wandered in.  “On my way to somewhere else…” yes indeed…distractions “on the way to somewhere else,” are one of the hallmarks of my life!

The fellow at the front – I’m not sure I could call him a maître de – moved me to a ‘two top’ table against a brick wall on the edge of the restaurant.  In short order, I had ordered, gotten something to drink and settled in to do a little writing to fill the time.  When eating alone, I have learned to take something to read or a notepad to write – the ‘by yourself’ dinner helpers.  They serve me well in the awkward time between the order and the purpose for being there.

As I sat at the table in the Cajun restaurant, a band began to warm up.  There were four of them: a squeeze-box, drum set, violin and a spoon stroking aluminum washboard worn like an old, well used piece of chest armor…AND they could play.  As they began, traditional Cajun music floated into the air in a surprisingly gratifying way – to the ear and sensibility.  This was a good choice!

“Bill,” the senior citizen previously mentioned got up and began to dance with an elderly woman.  You know, one of those nicely choreographed circle-dances…a cross between square dancing and a Cajun waltz.  By now dinner had come – blackened grilled chicken with fresh vegetables and Jambalaya – and I began to eat.  I looked up and saw Bill still dancing, but this time with a different woman, and thought, “That guy must be enjoying himself, but he is going to pay in the morning!” 

As I ate dinner, however, it was clear Bill had not come there to eat.  I became mesmerized as he danced with one woman after another…after another…after another.  Between songs, he went from the table-to-table recruiting partners for the next 45 minutes.  He didn’t stop once! I thought, “Holy cow, who is this guy?” There is little doubt my imagination was captured!  The band took a break and I could not keep from tracking him down and talking with him.  It turns out, this is what he does, and when I asked him why he did this, the answer was simple and plain spoken, “This is just a lot of fun.” 

It wasn’t just fun for him, but for everyone in the restaurant watching this graceful senior citizen recruit and dance with a dozen or so women before the band took its first break.  When they started up again, he was back on the floor, taking partners and giving them a signed business card verifying they had danced with ‘Bill.’

The day...
The morning walk to Café du Monde had been on purpose.  It is one of those places that not only has great coffee and beignets, but also a wonderfully entertaining atmosphere.  Dinner?  That was a different story.  The restaurant appeared in my peripheral vision as I was headed to another place…or thought I was heading to another place. 

This is not the first time I have been rewarded by driving off the Interstate highways of life onto the back roads where the scenery is a little more rustic and roads a little less refined.  It is those ‘unguarded moments’ violating “…the best-laid plans…” that give life its richness. 

I am not clear as to what is up ahead as the years of my life continue to slip by with ever increasing acceleration, but I know this…there is much more happening in our peripheral vision than where we often seem to be looking.

Mr. Armstrong was right, “You blows who you is.”  

If you are not too busy eating, may I have this dance?

- ted