Po-Boy Views
By
Phil LaMancusa
Fair Grounds
Or
Bust
“Fear
in the air, tensions everywhere, unemployment’s rising fast, The Beatles new
record’s a gas; and the only safe place to live is on an Indian reservation!
And the band played on.” (Temptations: Ball of Confusion)
Hey,
don’t complain just because it’s only a third of the way through the year and
you’re ready to curl up and go fetal; because, if you think that the ass
kicking 2024 has given you so far is bad, fasten your seatbelts, ‘cause you
ain’t seen nuthin’ yet (the psychic columnist strikes again!).
All
around you, you see war, hunger, homelessness, carjacking, murders, muggings,
rapes and senseless politics; not to mention greed, dishonesty and inhumanity.
Getting a dog or cat, close family ties or cutting your bangs may assuage your
plight but it will not eliminate it. Face it, from the beginning until the end,
life will work your nerves; “the girl by
the whirlpool is lookin’ for a new fool; don’t follow leaders; watch the
parking meters” (Bob Dylan) However…..
Okay,
so you think that just because you’re playing your part with honor, integrity
and value it’s gonna get you a Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card from life, you are
sorely mistaken; I know, it’s what I used to think. Take it from me, from here
on out it’s about to get Think or Thwim Time and the water’s rising fast. But
soft, do I hear the Sirens call of the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage festival?
Ah yes, the Sirens: half bird and half woman seductresses of Greek mythology
that sang sailors to….; yes, I hear them over by the race track calling me (and
you).
2023
was bad, badder than the years before and here come 2024 like the Dire Wolf
(600 pounds of sin); cost of living went up 10% and your raise was only 3.
Rent, groceries, gasoline, your dentist, and your dealer have all increased
their fees and don’t get me started on the electric bills meteoric rise; the
car needs tires, baby needs shoes and, I don’t know about you but, I need a
break. Hell I could do with a dose of amnesia!
Hey, take my hand. Life is short no matter how
long you live. Close your eyes. Open your hand; feel this slip of paper? It’s a
ticket to The New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival week two. On me. No it’s
not for the Rolling Stones Day (I’m not that magnanimous).
What?
It cost as much as a day’s pay? Well, the way I consider it, when I spend a
day’s pay to go to the Jazz Fest, I’m actually giving myself a day off with pay
to go have a most wonderful time. Believe me, I save up all year to give myself
this ‘stay-cation’; I deserve this. I deserve to be able to take every day of
Jazz Fest off from work and responsibility to render myself immune to the days
cares and concerns; I know that my life, as it is, will be waiting for me when
I exit and I’ll face what I have to face and ignore everything else that I can
that is waiting to work my patience, emotions, understanding and ken.
But
I need this. I need this respite, this time off and out; that’s what it is: I’m
giving myself a ‘time out’ and going to the corner of Sauvage and Fortin
Streets or 1751 Gentilly Ave, through those gates and off the grid.
I
get a giddy feeling as I stand in line with the other folks eager to be the
first in; I go through the line like a greasy butter knife, carrying so very
little (a towel, sunscreen, cash and a big grin); I’ve got on comfortable
closed toe shoes; clothing in just enough layers for the weather and eyewear to
protect me from the sun.
I
pass the Gospel Tent and look in on Jesus; pass the Blues Tent and look in on a
poster of B.B. King and over to the WWOZ Jazz Tent where I deposit Debbie
because that’s where she likes to spend her days and then I’m off!
I’m
not saying that I’m old; but, my experiences with and at music and art
festivals get me so high that I cannot sit still for very long. I’ve got to be
out there; I’ve got to see everything, be everywhere and poke my nose into
everybody’s business. I am nonstop for hours and I’m electrified by the energy
of the Fest; I’m movin’ and groovin’; I’ve got gut in my strut; glide in my
stride and no shame in my game. Amazingly, I don’t want to talk to many people,
I seldom interact; if you know me, I’m perfectly more than capable of enjoying
and amusing myself without outside help or influences.
I
eat, I drink (non alcoholic beverages), I bring Debbie beignets and coffee as
well as other gifts of refreshment and I observe. And when someone afterward
asks me who I saw, I smile and say “everyone!”
So,
here’s your ticket; go forth and soak up the magic. Find all the secret, sacred
corners, routes, and avenues through the myriad of Jazz Fest brethren and if
you don’t enjoy yourself… it’s your own fault.
Oh,
if you see me and I seem to not recognize you… just let me go on my way. I’m in
a world of my own and I call it heaven.
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