Laissez les bons temps rouler!

It has taken over a week for me to come to terms with how I feel about the celebration of Mardi Gras here on the Gulf Coast in the wake of Katrina. I have decided to remain undecided.

And I'm not talking about New Orleans -- I'll leave that to the national news media....

I'm talking about the Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama Gulf Coast... I'm talking about king cakes, moon pies, crawfish boils, and quiet get-togethers with family and friends. Our cultural heritage... our traditions.. our history -- at a time when so many reminders of such have been obliterated or are still awaiting the bulldozer.

It isn't all about the parades or the carnival balls... Although I'm aware that those traditions mean just as much to the families involved in them as our own family traditions mean to us. (Don't get me wrong -- I'd love to ride in a parade someday... Just haven't had the chance thus far...) For us, at least - we prefer to celebrate Mardi Gras for what it is: the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday and the beginning of the Lenten season.

When I was growing up, my mother and I always managed to sneak out and catch at least one local parade. I still remember the big Biloxi parade where Mom seemed to know everyone on the floats. It was such a neat thing to be there with a minor celebrity... And then there was the year-after-year tradition of making it to the Krewe of Real People parade in Bay-Waveland. No matter how many times we went, we were always exhausted and so very tired of waiting -- on the verge of packing up and going home.. but as soon as we'd hear the beat of a marching band or a good mambo -- we were energized again.

As a young adult I found myself in New Orleans around Mardi Gras a couple of times -- almost by accident, really... I got to attend the Zulu parade when the prized throw was still a coconut (fear of major head injuries stifled that tradition, I think...)... I have seen the splendor that is Endymion and felt the enthusiasm that surrounds Bacchus. Ahh.. the elaborate costumes, the smell of vomit, the increased police presence, the public brawls, the constant fear for my life.... I uh.. didn't go back.

Once I recovered, I ventured out again but not so far from home. I was invited to go to the Pass Christian parade where my sister would be riding with the Krewe of Gemini. It was hot and there were an awful lot of people - but it was terribly exciting.. and I figured 'HEY! This is Pass Christian.. it's not like it's New Orleans or anything...' So before the parade I was feeling confident that George (who was just an infant at the time) and I would survive and maybe even catch a few beads... Only two people were run over with floats that year. I got punched in the face twice by some drunken woman who wanted the beads my sister was handing me from the float (You know.. normal people would not brave a punch in the face for a few plastic beads.. but there is a shortage of normal people at Mardi Gras parades...). Then a brawl broke out about five feet behind us and the baby and I were shoved into the street in front of a semi truck only to be shoved back into the crowd by roaming police officers with billy clubs -- AND just in time to narrowly miss being doused with a 30 gallon pot of boiling crawfish water that a burly intoxicated man threw at his opponent. I think that's when I decided I wasn't a parade kind of person.

In recent years past, most of our Mardi Gras has centered around our kids and their activities at school... George's wagon float project was the most elaborate to date... in other years we have simply enjoyed going out to buy throws and attending whatever kids' parade they have planned at school. However, my mother and I always enjoyed taking a last-minute trip to catch the relatively tame Gulfport Night-Parade. Mom always got the best throws -- something about that flashy smile and the way she would yell 'Throw me something!'... or maybe just because no one has ever missed my mother in a crowd.

George riding the 'St. George & the dragon' float I slaved over for a month...
It wasn't sunny enough to show off Mr. Dragon's sparkly scales. :(

There was no Gulfport night-parade this year. I half-heartedly checked the schedule when I was still trying to decide if the time is right for Mardi Gras. I cringed when the boys came in from school on Friday with sparkly beads and little tiny moon-pies from their school parade -- we were so enthralled with waiting for estimates and deliveries that the whole affair had slipped our minds.

I really didn't mean to miss Mardi Gras.

The Biloxi day-parade starts in ten minutes. I was tempted all day to find some way to make it... but with the boys and the babies settled in and Dave at work... It isn't going to happen.

Instead, maybe we'll find a quiet way to celebrate... Perhaps I can convince Mom to come over with us and we can share a really good meal. It's our post-Katrina lifestyle -- and I really can't knock it -- a return to the basics. I wonder if Yahoo! radio has any good mambo stations?