Another day, another story!
Today is St. Joseph's Day. I would not know this but my friend tagged me with a memory on Facebook. This is one of the days where Facebook feels like the best, good friend ever because of those fun memories which involved a hit and run accident in New Orleans.
St. Josephs is the day that Mary's husband Joseph is recognized and paid honor. In some places more than others.
Sicily, it is also believed that if a woman manages to sneak a lemon off of St. Joseph’s Table on this day, then she have better luck finding a husband. It is also customary for people to wear red on this day and to indulge themselves with doughnuts and crème puffs. In Italy, Spain and Portugal, St. Joseph’s Day is Father’s Day. (Obviously, Sicily is a really good place to be on St. Joseph's Day)
Since New Orleans, Louisiana in the United States was a major port of entry for Sicilian immigrants during the late 1800s and has a large Sicilian population, this holiday is celebrated by the whole city. On St. Joseph’s Day. St. Joseph’s Tables are built both for the public and by private individuals. These altars are then filled with a variety of different food – just like the celebrations in Sicily – however, these foods usually have somewhat of a Cajun twist to them. Afterward, all of the food is then usually donated to the poor. New Orleans also has a variety of parades and marching bands performing on the streets during this day. (Obviously, New Orleans is the best city to be in if you are in the US on St. Joseph's Day! Furthermore - this information was totally lifted and pasted from the St. Josephs Day site on the internet)
So - OUR St. Josephs Day memory all started like this.
I have known Virginia Dixon all my life which means since Middle School formerly known as Jr. High. My first memory of her is when I was forced to teach Algebra because for some reason we all had to teach for a day or maybe we got extra credit for that and I needed extra credit because I have never understood Algebra a day in my life (never mind that I think I can understand theoretical physics and quantum mechanics or at least lets say TRYING to is a hobby of mine) but this day trying to teach 7th grade Algebra Virginia kept saying she didn't understand as I wrote on the overhead projector. She wasn't being mean - she really didn't understand. What I wanted to say is LOOK, I don't understand EITHER but I'm trying to wing it for extra credit and sit down. In spite of this we somehow passed 7th grade and went on to High School where we were friendly if not neighborhood friends and we were friends with the same people. Got it? Okay.
So flash forward a few busy years and we both end up married with children (literally) in Pensacola and renew our friendship. And we are both writing in one capacity of another and we learn of a Screenwriting Seminar in the Big Easy and we decide this is one of the greatest reasons to get out of town ever. So we load up and head to New Orleans minus husbands and children. We planned to stay with our darling high school friend's Sue Finlaw's mother who was one of those mothers every kid wanted. She was mother to a tribe of kids that basically moved in her house for the summer and never left. Me being primary said kid. She had moved to NO so we had the perfect place to stay. We went to the Screenwriting conference which used The Body by Stephen King as it's working example which went on to be the movie Stand by Me - which is a great movie.
I remember we had a great dinner one night in the French Quarter and we went to Preservation Hall and Virginia says we went to a Voodoo palace but since we are and we were both Christian voodoo really wouldn't have been our thing so I don't know how that happened unless we just wandered into a whodooyouvoodoo nest without knowing it. This kind of thing can easily happen in New Orleans.
What I do remember is that night in the French Quarter where the moon was hanging just over the buildings and a parade broke out down the street and we were sitting like queens on the balcony looking out over the city. Totally in the right place at the right time. Here came the marching bands, the floats, the happiness extreme and the kid playing the saxophone who may have grown up to be Tina Turner's sax player for that infamous TV concert and there is a magic that is a New Orleans night that belongs to no other place in the world.
The next morning, coffee in hand, driving in the car on our way to the 2nd day of the conference we were hit and hit hard by a car from the rear. Totally in the wrong place at the wrong time. The driver jumped out and fled on foot, abandoning the car and was never found. We were fine until Sue's Mom showed up and said, Oh, honey's and hugged us and we both started crying being the grown women we were but suddenly feeling fifteen again. We were taken to the hospital for whiplash and so forth, both given neck braces and heavy duty motrin and sent on our way. We made it to the conference late and walked in the big auditorium after the guy had started teaching and he just stopped mid sentence when he saw us and said - OK, I have to ask - WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU GUYS? At which point Virginia and I tried to turn and look at each other but we couldn't do it without turning out entire bodies because we couldn't turn our heads. Then someone said, My God! There's blood all over you we realized, No, that's coffee from the accident that has somehow turned to the color of dried blood.
I assure you - a good time was had by all. We made it to Cafe Du Monde which is one of the most important things in the world. And we ate that sweet concoction known as New Orleans beignets (which don't count if they are not from Cafe Du Monde) And we talked about the power of story and then Virginia told me the entire saga of her three book trilogy for the ride back to Pensacola which was many hours but it made the trip go by quickly.
Memories. It's what friendships were born for. I hope you have warm ones from adventures gone by or that you are planning a new road trip in your near future.
Wishing you blessings on all the ordinary and high, holy days of your life.
For those of you who know me and Cousin Debbie Register and also our history of getting into trouble together for all of our lives - I have to tell you that we are planning MATCHING TAT'S in April when she arrives on vacation Because we are old enough to be stupid in a whole new way. Most people also know we are as different as the sun and moon so agreeing on a tattoo is another thing. Which I THOUGHT we had done but now she is shifting her perspective on me.
A brief history:
Trouble. Deb and I have gotten into trouble all of our lives. The kind of trouble that cousins who are best friends can get into. That's the stupid kind. Not being bad but just being like Lucy and Ethel although I'd like to think of us more along the romantic Thelma and Louise types - It's def more Lucy and Ethel.
So for years we have decided to mark one thing or the other by getting a tattoo. Let's just do it, She'd say. And I'd say sure, sure. But of course we didn't. Then we put in at some point to get identical tats and since we are so different that didn't happen and then deciding on where to put them was another personal choice all of which has kept us for fifty years from getting inked. But we are old enough now to be full tilt stupid.
Deb decided when she read about the Phoenix bird and all its symbolism that we both really needed a phonenix. I said - fine. Then she started looking at pictures of the Phoenix. Her reactions were classic Deb. Hand to head, frown. Her exuberance replaced by concern.
What's the problem?
This is a very ugly bird. That neck, I mean, It looks like a snake. I don't think I can do this.
That was about three years ago or more and so that has certainly iced the ink move. In the meantime I came up with a tattoo of my own that I wanted - The Celtic knot that symbolizes The Trinity so that I could always remind myself in times of trouble - Look, girl -This is what you believe. Don't forget that. But I never got around to that as well. I do good to have clean underwear so having a tat just hasn't been on my to do list.
ENTER - Deb's vacation and her finding a Phoenix tattoo that is more impressionist and feminine. Okay. So we will just do it.
SIDEBAR- DEB has ABSOLUTELY NO TOLERANCE FOR PAIN. None. Zilch. If she has a fever you would think she just caught swine flu. If she stubs her toe it's a major affair. Mine almost cut off - She doesn't even pay attention as she chases a wasp because she is afraid it will STING HER and she will be rushed to the hospital.
Okay - So apparently getting a Tattoo is not a PAINLESS event. She swears she is going first and won't back out. When I told my sons one said - Yeah, I'll believe it when I see it because Deb won't do it. And the other laughed and laughed at the mere thought. He said if they are going to be matching it will be really small because it will be one dot. That's all they'll get done on Deb before she screams and backs out.
Deb could make some money on this because everyone is betting a) She won't do it. and B) she really won't do it.
All I know to do is report back in April. I pushed her out of tree over a river once when she changed her mind at the top and wanted to go back down. Then in all fairness I jumped in after her. If she backs out of this I don't think the tattoo artist will let me hold her down on the table. But I'm committed now. This story has been fifty years in the making. She turns chicken - I'm getting that Celtic knot.
What's the story in your world?
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