Friday at the Fest
Yesterday unlike Jazz Fest past, we went about our normal day. I worked, Tin played with Margarete, and took a three hour nap, and then at 5pm we loaded up to go to the Fest. Rest, fed, and ready to roll. We went straight to the Kid’s Tent to see Gal Holiday & The Honky Tonk Revue.
Then we went by to hear Willie Nelson at Gentilly, Greg Allman at the Blues Tent, Arcade Fire at Acura and wound up at the Gospel Tent to hear Irma Thomas memorializing Mahalia Jackson. Sort of crazy huh?
We stopped at our friends’ annual crawfish boil where I ate crackers because I had to watch Tin and couldn’t belly up to the mudbugs. And then we made our way home stopping by another friend’s to see what was up. But it was going down the narrow Ponce de Leon Avenue that Tin’s Jazz Fest day began in earnest, there on the side of Nonna Mia was the Pinstripe Brass Band and Tin demanded to be let out of the chains of his stroller and to be given his trumpet. “Please,” I reminded him. “Puhleash,” he repeated to me.
And here is where the Tin man came alive, the leader of the band snatched him off from the sidelines and put him front and center while the paparazzi flipped open their camera phones. If my angel mom knew that Tin was my son, then New Orleans knows he is a child of this city – god bless these musical boys who take Tin under their wing and let him fly.
Rolling on home to the bayou, we stopped into Lyndon’s again, who was having Jazz Fest party number two, and his music was blaring across the bayou. He said his younger son is in a band and wired up his 1970 speakers with his 1970 Pioneer stere and it was like WHOA, they don’t make those like that anymore.
Thursday night, my friend said Femi Kuti was playing the soundtrack of his life, and I have to say, Friday was the narrative of mine complete with my little man making the music.
May 7th, 2011 at 9:59 am
Sorta makes you believe in “pre-distination” doesn’t it?