The last time I went to Jazz Fest, I was 9 months pregnant with Katerina. Will Kelleher took us there but, not being a father back then, he did not realize that pregnant ladies don't like to walk in brutal heat. Pregnant ladies don't like to walk. And they don't like heat either. Anyway, despite his best efforts to park close, we walked miles and miles to get back to the car. Ashley thought it would be so great to have the baby right there at Jazz Fest. I did not.
Thanks to my friends, I was able to go to Jazz Fest again this year. I took the kids and my mom. They all need to be more New Orleanian. We parked miles and miles away and set on the journey. We walked past the cemetery. I have not been there since the funeral but Katerina wanted to go. So we did and we cried a lot and we talked to daddy. Finally, we left to continue our journey (I have to call it a journey because it took so long). We got there and saw Rebirth and Wild Magnolias. We walked past Santana but there was no way we would get anywhere close so what's the point. We got very muddy and had some excellent cochon de lait po'boy. We met a few rollergirls and a few bloggers but you can't really go anywhere in this town and not meet someone you know.
The last time I saw Rebirth, we were exiled in Chicago and they played somewhere there. We went and ALL of the exiled New Orleanians did too. It was so cool - we met so many people we knew. It was a little piece of home in the frozen, apathetic city of money. We talked in our funky accent, talked about places we hoped were still there, made plans to have crawfish boils back home.
He should be here. He should see Rebirth and Wild Magnolias. He should hug his kids and smoke cigars. I found his Che Guevara watch and I though that he really was the Che of New Orleans. Fighting for what he believed was right. If that makes things any better, he became the person he wanted to be.
We stopped at the cemetery on the way back too and said bye. Big Rey was saying the whole time he was missing daddy. We made the horrid journey back. My feet and arms hurt (from carrying Rey from Jazz Fest to Storyland in the City Park). The "first times" are going to be hard. He should be here. He loved his city so much and I guess the only way to keep him here is to bring his kids up to be true New Orleanians. By the way, Katerina has a new drum.
I can imagine the hard physical trek to the Fairgrounds with 3 kids.
I can't imagine the difficult emotional trek you made.
Put your feet up tonight and drink an Abita on the porch.
Posted by: Karen | 04 May 2008 at 08:01 PM
Oh, Hana. This was such a beautiful, but sad post. I am so sorry for your and your children's loss.
Posted by: saintseester | 04 May 2008 at 08:02 PM
yeah.
How perfect, how painful: to walk to jazz fest, stopping to be with Ashley before and after.
If this is how it has to be, then that's the way to play it.
Posted by: greg | 04 May 2008 at 08:14 PM
That was a beautiful post, Hana. The tears were flowing here.
Posted by: Adrastos | 04 May 2008 at 09:12 PM
Santana was there again??!! That probably means something, though I'm not sure what.
They were there back in the day, when I was living in Broadmoor with She Who Picked Me Up Right In Front Of Mom in the Quarter.
She wasn't that impressed. A few weeks later, it being June, at Her request, I set off to Carrollton to seek my fortune... still seeking...
Posted by: KamaAina | 04 May 2008 at 09:13 PM
I'm glad you got out to Fest. Through both weekends, when I was at any given stage, I thought if the volume was loud enough to make it to Ashley.
Posted by: Maitri | 04 May 2008 at 09:37 PM
I know he was there with you in spirit.
Posted by: LIsaPal | 05 May 2008 at 12:19 AM
Oh Hana! What an emotional day for you and the little ones. I don't know if I could have done the same if my Betty was in St. Louis #3.
We pass Ashley every other day. Both of us always say "Hi".
Strength to you sister... much strength.
You yell, and I'll come running.
Posted by: GentillyGirl | 05 May 2008 at 01:10 AM
If Quint Davis were a true New Orleanian, he'd know that mothers should be given Big Chief passes so they can always find a seat, and don't have to park in another parish.
Posted by: Schroeder | 05 May 2008 at 08:40 AM
Great post, Hanna. Next time, try yapundit's parking tip:
http://www.yatpundit.com/2008/05/my-triedandtrue-jazzfest-parki.html
Posted by: cherie' | 05 May 2008 at 09:05 AM
I'm crying. Not a pretty sight at work. So much in that post--what we are today, those we have lost, our memories in early exile, and meeting up with friends (old and new) in that exiled journey.
You be strong. The kids will pick up on what New Orleans is as they continue to interact with it. They don't know what they'll miss until they aren't there anymore (just ask my kids). They will know that their daddy IS New Orleans. And that's pretty cool.
Banzai
Posted by: Banzai Bill | 05 May 2008 at 10:49 AM
Hana, that was lovely but my keyboard is wet. Your courage is an inspiration. Remember there is an army out here to help if you need it. A strange diverse army, but one that will support you any way we can.
Posted by: slate | 05 May 2008 at 10:53 AM
Bless you and your mom for schlepping those kids out there. Overall, they were having a great time, I could tell. And, over time, it will become easier to take 'em there and watch how they grow with it all...and how much they will still connect it with their daddy.
Damn, now I'M getting sad...
Posted by: liprap | 05 May 2008 at 02:03 PM
So beautiful, Hana.
And the cochon de lait was excellent. I got it ...three times. oops.
Posted by: alli | 05 May 2008 at 05:36 PM
Hey, I don't know you but read the blog. I got a driveway across Bayou, go over the bridge, cut thru Cabrini, Esplanade, Mystery, than Fest. Not a bad walk. And you can always cut over to cemetery. If you need to get closer next year, shoot an e-mail. I got a kick out of Ashley. Sorry he is gone.
Posted by: ellen | 05 May 2008 at 08:58 PM
Hey, I don't know you but read the blog. I got a driveway across Bayou, go over the bridge, cut thru Cabrini, Esplanade, Mystery, than Fest. Not a bad walk. And you can always cut over to cemetery. If you need to get closer next year, shoot an e-mail. I got a kick out of Ashley. Sorry he is gone.
Posted by: ellen | 05 May 2008 at 09:15 PM
I too cried when I read this post, but I also did so somewhat from my own memory of losing my father as a child. I know how hard these first steps are - I often tell people who haven't experienced this immediacy of loss that its like crossing a line and until you cross that line you don't really understand the pain that has to be borne.
I hope you feel proud that you went to Jazz Fest - I think it must have meant a tremendous amount to your children that they could visit Ashley to and from the grounds. I know he was with you guys - probably seething that he couldn't taste the po'boy himself!
I know its hard. You are all in my thoughts.
Posted by: Kirsty | 06 May 2008 at 10:06 AM
This made my heart hurt.
Posted by: paul | 09 May 2008 at 12:09 PM