Two weekends, two weddings back to back, too much! Way too much.
But, Lord have mercy they were both certainly a lot of fun. Oh to be young again!
This past weekend’s nuptials were in New Orleans and we were stationed in the French Quarter. I took to the Quarter the first time I ever laid eyes on it and wife, Danny, and I have been spending a few days down there most years for our anniversary in August since the late 90s. I pretty much know my way around the Quarter, Danny not so much. Not a problem as long as one of us knows where we are.
The bride, Summer, a sorority sister of my daughter’s and her new husband, Matt, threw a really nice shindig and from the looks of things everyone had a really nice time.
Danny and I, along with another couple hosted a bridesmaid’s luncheon at A Court of Two Sisters on Royal Street and it couldn’t have gone more smoothly. There was a group of 17 of us seated together directly in front of the little Jazz band and we couldn’t have asked for a better environment.
I would say that I will remember that place for a gathering of this sort, but I hope I’m not involved in a gathering of this sort any time in the near future. It’s work keeping up with folks half our age, but we held our own. We just didn’t stay up as late as the rest of them, and that was prefectly fine with me on the drive home Sunday. I could have used one more day to rest, though. I think I think I always need one more day!
New Orleans seemed to be in pretty good shape. There has been a lot of news about shootings and lootings and that sort of thing, but our experience did not include any of that kind of business over the weekend. I don’t think we even heard a gunshot or a car backfire either one.
A friend that used to be an every other weekend kind of NOLA visitor texted Sunday morning asking if we stayed in the city and did we feel safe. We did and we did. I think she and her husband are a little wary about taking a chance on the Big Easy these days. But, again, there were no problems at all.
There are a lot of homeless people sleeping on the streets with their friends and their dogs and the smell of marijuana filled the air just about everywhere we walked. And, we walked just about everywhere we could bring ourselves to walk. A lot of walking!
I have a hard time figuring out where the homeless get the money for the marijuana when some of them are asking for handouts just to buy food. I don’t give handouts like that, but I do have a soft spot in my heart for people with no place to go.
It was chilly, and damp out, and kind of breezy too, with a heavy fog hanging low around the rooftops. We didn’t really need a jacket all the time, but it wasn’t short pants and t-shirt weather either, so it just goes to say that a sleeping bag, or a cardboard box, or nothing at all had to be kind of a cold way to spend the night. So, yes, I do feel a bit of compassion for those folks and can’t help but wonder how they got there and why they can not leave.
I wonder if perhaps they thought the city would be the home to everything that could make their dreams come true only to have those dreams shattered for no apparent reason. I also wonder if the mental illness that is apparent on the city streets moved there with some of those people, or if it moved in on them after their arrival. Perhaps a little of both.
You know there are no guarantees in life. Not in Forest, Mississippi and not in New Orleans, Louisiana. Any of us, I suppose, could find ourselves in a similar predicament to the one that those folks spending their nights on the sidewalks have found themselves in.
Similarly, I often wonder about the folks standing at the entrance to the Forest Walmart holding up a weathered piece of cardboard with a message about needing help with gas or food. I wonder if they really have fallen on hard luck, or if they find it easier to seek a handout than getting cleaned up and trying to find a job.
It is hard not to be judgemental, so I guess I shouldn’t wonder about things as much as I sometimes do!
