standing in the rain
dancing in the street
Been talking about the weather a lot lately. Specifically, parade route weather.
I was out there all last Saturday, day parading uptown for a friend’s birthday. She tried to cancel that morning because of the rain, but I had called her immediately and said that wouldn’t be necessary.
“A little rain never phased us,” I said, taking a look out the window. “Besides, it looks like it’s clearing up already.”
We all spent the day forecasting the weather to the backdrop of parades. Standing underneath a tent, we all looked to the west, squinting and shivering, “Look, the sun’s starting to come through.”
We huddled closer when the rain picked up. “It’ll pass,” we all said, zipping up our raincoats, cheering on the bands as they marched by, running out to the curb to dance with them in the rain, in the street (maybe a little too close).
That’s that whole “resiliency” thing everyone is always talking about:
New Orleanians are so resilient!
Look at those people from Louisiana, you can’t knock them down! (no matter how hard you try).
We’ve been knocked around hard enough to know that everything will eventually pass, so we generally have an optimistic outlook and an ability to keep cheering on the band and dancing in the street while we wait it out.
I spent last Sunday biking around the route, visiting friends up and down St. Charles. Most were dear friends I hadn’t seen in over six months, so we had a lot to catch up on, but no topics outweighed the previous 24 hours of parade route weather.
“Can you believe this day?! Yeah, we were out here yesterday, too. You saw that? Miserable. Felt so bad for the kids marching. But, man, today! What a day! Supposed to be like this the rest of Mardi Gras, except for Thursday. But I ain’t worried about it. It’ll pass. Yeah, we’ll be out here next weekend, too.”
All day yesterday (Muses Thursday), I was glued to the radar, texting with friends, swapping amateur weather insights, monitoring the (slight) meltdown of the @thetindermeteorologist when the City announced the parades would roll. He was convinced it would be a terrible weather event and it looked pretty likely, but we did what we always do. We packed up and headed to the route, kids in tow. Driving around, looking for a spot, “Yeah yeah yeah, I’m not worried about it. It’s not going to hit till later. We’ll be fine.”
And we were. We always are.
One of my favorite newsletters that I subscribe to is Suleika Jaouad’s Isolation Journals. Suleika is a beautiful writer whose memoir, Between Two Kingdoms, held me captivated for days. Beyond being an accomplished writer, she is also the wife of our beloved Jon Batiste—and just knowing that she appreciates and loves a New Orleans boy makes me appreciate her even more.
This week in her newsletter, she published a candid conversation between her and Jon about the creative process, which means they talked a lot about joy and sorrow. And this is what Jon had to say:
There should never be any pressure put on joy. Joy is not something that allows for any sort of repression, or any sort of force in manifesting it. Joy emerges. And you need the clouds and the rain. In order to have the sunshine of joy. It’s a real resurrection. It’s a rebirth. It’s a form of rising from the ashes and you have to allow for things to run their course. There’s no pressure on joy.
Last night was a beautiful night. The theme for Muses was “Goodnight Muses” and all of my favorite childhood books rolled in front of me magically, joyously, lit up and giving hugs. The crowd gasped every time a new float turned the corner, kids and adults squealing in delight alike. It was a beautiful, dry, night, and it proved to us what we already know, all that evidence wasted: that you can’t pressure these things. You can’t prognosticate them to death. That parade was always gonna roll and we were never not gonna go, because we know that standing in the rain is a worthy sacrifice for dancing in the street.
Have a beautiful weekend. I’ll see y’all on the neutral ground.
some nah brah business:
the second nah brah master class is open for registration! (we’ll talk more about it after Mardi Gras)
And remember! If you can’t make it the day of, you will have access to the zoom recording to watch at your convenience later. Also, there’s a 50% discount for paid subscribers of this newsletter, so upgrade your subscription now and take advantage! If you’re already a paid subscriber, scroll to the end of this email for the discount code.
more nah brah business:
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