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.
(*THE ADORABLES are coming to see ZAZA next week. I've pulled a blog from the past to share while reflecting on the great times I've had with them over the years. Here's a little slice of life from the time capsule.)
I'm in North Carolina baby-sitting the Adorables as their parents enjoy the Greek Islands. I don't feel I got the short end of the stick. I have stories everyday they share as they run through the door. And if we don't have enough story material, this morning a little someone went out the door without turning off the alarm so while on the phone with my mother a LOUD, SCREAMING alarm sounded. And while I was trying to calm my Mother and tell her we were not under invasion a voice from the wall began calmly insisting I tell her the PASSWORD.
"Look, I tell her. I don't know the password. I don't remember the password. I had it last year but now - the parents have gone to Greece see and I'm the Zaza see so it's just me."
"I'll need that verbal password," she says.
"Yes, I understand you need it - really I do - but I don't have it."
"Then the homeowner needs to call us right away."
"Mamn, did I mention they are in GREECE?!"
"Thank you," she says and hangs up.
I hear this voice on my cell phone - "Hello, hello, honey are you ok?" as the Adorables go back out the door and set off the alarm again.
Then the police show up at the door.
"I"m not dressed yet for the police," I tell him.
They want to see the Adorables.
Sure. Follow me - ignore the wet, overly friendly dog. See the Adorables. See them swimming and laughing in the pool. Dear Adorables, please tell the nice policeman who I am. (Insert pause - I really think that child paused) And finally said - she's our grandmother. I think she was trying to translate what would be best for the policeman and figured that Zaza might get me thrown in jail. I'll at least give her the benefit of the doubt.
But the police man was nothing compared to dealing with a Marley type dog called Leo. He has since I arrived . . .
Zeus gets treats.
Leo gets time out.
We're planning on visiting a bookstore this afternoon.
All is well. All will be well. And all is well.
(Since this post Good Dog Zeus has passed on to doggy heaven but he will always be remembered like he is wearing a halo because he was just that kind of very, good dog. Leo is still alive. He has had training. And found his brains. But not before he destroyed my iphone by swimming with it in his mouth under the water in the pool.)
Thanks so much for reading, liking and sharing with friends.