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It Ain't That Bad: Mardi Gras 2022

by Edselle Cunningham

March 20, 2022 1.1K views
 

I had the great fortune of spending time with my family this past week at the greatest free party in the USA-- New Orleans Mardi Gras. Yes, on the tail fingers of Covid (fingers, toes, and eyes crossed) and under the dark cloud of conflict in Eastern Europe, I gathered my Gang of Five and traveled to the “Big Easy” for Mardi Gras.

If you are set to complain about traffic, or crowds, or crime…miss me, this ain’t for you. This is for the optimist in us all, the hope springs eternal group. I am here to tell you that Mardi Gras renewed my spirit and reminded me of one eternal truth…it ain’t that bad. 

If I’m being honest, my confession is I haven’t always been a fan of the annual event.  I have missed many a rainy Fat Tuesdays over the years with little regret.  In fact, in the past, I have been one of those enigmatic few that chose to try the mountains, the beach, or even Disney world instead of the hustle and bustle of this historic tradition.  I’m not ashamed of that acknowledgment, because it adds to my point.  I am a free thinker when it comes to Mardi Gras, so my words should carry a little more weight. 

So…this year found me at the crossroads-- too broke to travel, too bored to stay at home, and my last play, the weather (one I could usually rely on because its February, after all), had failed me. My most trusted advisor…the Weather App, forecasted Eden like temperatures and clear blue skies.

And to clear up any confusion, when I say “Mardi Gras”, I am not talking about a just a parade.  Whether you go to New Roads or Mamou (notice I didn’t say Alabama), Mardi Gras is the parade, the food, the music, the people.  One big street party, where neighbors act like neighbors and everybody acts like friends.

My particular experience had been developed over the past twenty years.  I didn’t grow up in New Orleans-- Big Raggedy (BR) is my home.  So, for the first 30 years of my life, Mardi Gras was a parade with cheap beads.  I honestly didn’t get it.  I hate begging, so after two or three “throw me somethings”, I’m done.  Further, the bead game I grew up on was…well, let’s just say I ain’t giving up no land for snap back beads and cheap plastic cups (no matter how well they hold kool-aid).

My Mardi Gras taste buds were developed in congress with a growing fondness/love for my wife and her family.  See… they do Mardi Gras big!  I mean create a compound with yellow police tape, three stolen traffic cones, a BBQ pit, and a huge white cooler that only two men matching stride and sway could carry for distance.

*Sidenote. Packing and then Carrying an ice chest/cooler several blocks/miles should be a timed Olympic event!

You arrive at the crack of dawn, meeting early rising family members charged with capturing the best spot on the neutral ground.  You set up place and space with careful boundaries that will soon be obliterated with the hungry scavenge for throws.  Then, you wait for Zulu, the first parade in a long line of opportunities to see friends and family and ogle at the sites that pass by.

Now, while I could write a book on the things seen at Mardi Gras, which are too many to name, I will be brief.  There’s “Cool Whip”, the white guy dressed as a pimp in all white, who you realize after a brief conversation is not wearing a costume at all. The brothers, who somehow manage to remain clean and debris free with their stark white G-Nikes and cool boy presence. The costumes-- if you can still call them that, I think to some it’s just an excuse.

Who will ever forget Todd…or Larry…or Mervin…the “parade friends” you share throws, food, and laughs with for a full day?  Becoming best friends for hours in a shared experience in full knowledge of the fact that you will never meet again.  I learned early on that keeping your head on a swivel saves you from being concussed by a well-meaning but poorly tossed coconut, as well as concussed by a future wife because-- well let’s just call them “costumes”.

This Mardi Gras was no different-- only better.  It felt like it had been dog years since I last was there- some work, some covid, some indifference.  The air seemed fresher, the music more “bout it”, the food smelled  and tasted of something trying to set deeply in your fond memories. The people still talked, shared, laughed, and danced.  Mardi Gras is a great reminder of the humanity we share.  If we can sit in this perceived chaos and manage a meal, a good time, and catch some nice throws… show me a problem we can’t solve.  The mood, the movement, and the rhythm of Mardi gras was shared by all as a community.  No red, no blue, no white, no black. Only purple, green, and gold. 

The Gang of Five endured the traffic, one parking ticket, and the all too occasional smell of a good time wafting over the crowd.  Even the two hours trapped behind original New Orleans Indians calling out on the corner of Dryades and Second Street seemed like an opportunity to take it all in.

So, even in the shadow of where we have been over the last few “dog years” and the glooming horizon of our future mistakes, Mardi Gras is a time to rinse your soul and start anew.  Fresh for 2022, with God on our side.

It ain’t that bad!

Check out this video of why, "It ain't that bad!":https://youtu.be/Zra6yfDFrsI

 
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Edselle Cunningham
I have been at it for a long time. Homeless at 18, a father at 21. I have been celebrated and canceled. I have contributed and distracted. I have often been right and confoundingly wrong. I continue to learn that with God and perspective nothing is beyond me.

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