He had played music all day for the St. Anne’s walking parade. He talked about how it gets emotional at the end when he has to go to the river and play, “Down by the Riverside.” We kept chatting while we walked.
“On a day like today, it feels like it’s not all for not,” I said as he looked at me and smiled. Then he said, “I think you’re right. We going to keep on going.”
I found out he was this old famous New Orleans musician and that his family owned Café Rose Nicaud. Rose was a slave who bought her way out of slavery. This trumpet player and his wife owned the café and named it after her, as it may have been one of his wife’s relatives. And as he was getting ready to turn off to his street, he played me a few notes.”
After reading her email, I remembered my first trip to New Orleans (after the mugging), and how we walked the streets from the Jazzfest fairgrounds back to our bungalow in the Quarter. In the dismal April heat, which made us linger down blocks longer than normal, we came across a Second Line band. The “second line” was a brass band that played and danced in the streets, many times for a funeral, but usually in celebration, which drew passersby to dance behind their tubas and trumpets. When we walked behind that second line, I forgot about my mugging. I forgot about my lost wallet (at the time) or that I should be anywhere else in that moment.
Now I’m taking in Leigh Ann’s current emails with a hint of jealously. While she reports on her excitement for Mardi Gras and the Zulu and Rex parades, I wonder if there’s a second line band with a trumpet player who is waiting to play a tune just for me.
Photo courtesy of Leigh Ann Miller
