There are so many lenses through which one might look back on the past - reflection, longing, regret. None of them are quite so rosy as nostalgia. In that rose-colored lens, I looked back on a time in my life that was reminiscent of today’s Mardi Gras festivities.
When I think of New Orleans I think of brightly colored houses in otherwise grey neighborhoods. I think of fresh po’boys after a long day. I think of barely masked talk of taboo Mardi Gras traditions and all the brightly colored celebration remnants that we could share, like endless beads, swirling king cake, and church gumbo out in the parking lot after service. I remember pounds and pounds of steaming crawfish served in that very same parking lot. I think of “more sugar please” uttered at Cafe Du Monde over sweet beignets. I think of the carefree child I was sharing in simple joys like merry-go-rounds, spinning, spinning, spinning.
My time in New Orleans was short-lived and still impactful. I think that has been true of my time in every place that I have been. It is one of the reasons why I love that my family moved as much as we did. The person that I have become as a result is like a patchwork quilt - a lovely array of personal patterns and colors.
I think there is this wonderful part of the human spirit that desires to share every good thing we know in some way with someone. For me, that desire comes out in my friendships or with my family, but especially with my students. I so want them to learn about and enjoy the things that I have picked up throughout my journey. Sometimes that looks a little strange, like a black woman teaching white children about Chinese New Year, but there is so much good in that. I would have loved to share Mardi Gras with them this year, but I am in a different stage of life presently that does not involve children in my workplace. It’s a little odd, but a lot quieter. This is the first year in many that I have not been with my students for Mardi Gras. Still, I put on my Mardi Gras beads and straightened my Mardi Gras crown on my way into work this morning. At my recommendation, we order gumbo and king cake, wear Mardi Gras beads and enjoy some time together. We play ERS, which is not a Mardi Gras tradition, but that hardly matters. What matters is that we are gathered together embracing a taste of a tradition that may not be our very own yet, but invites us all to enjoy a good time. I’ve picked up one more memory like another string of beads to adorn my neck in a Mardi Gras parade of nostalgia.