Rue Rude

Epiphany, Twelfth Night, Galette and King Cake

We got back from skiing last night and went to a Twelfth Night party. It was the first time we had a galette, the traditional French tart baked with a fève inside. Our hosts made their own, which is unusual. Basically, no one bakes in France. It's too easy to go to the local pâtissier.

The custom is for the youngest child present to go under the table and call out people's names as the galette is divided up. The person who is given the slice with the fève is then king or queen of the evening.

"C'est toujours moi qui a le fève," said Maxime, confidently, before he even stuck his fork into his slice. Sure enough, the fork hit something hard and he pulled out a little porcelain figure of the Mère Michel (a French nursery-rhyme figure who loses her cat. Tragically, the père Lustucru tells her he has sold the cat as rabbit meat. You can hear the song here). He did not put the crown on his head.

Bakeries compete with each other over the fèves, which were originally beans (fève means bean). A lot of people collect fèves, as you can see at French flea markets. I don't collect them but I don't throw them away. On the bottom of each fève I write the date and who won it. Over the years we have amassed a large collection of fèves that includes Astérix le Gaulois, the Virgin Mary, a crown that is also a ring (designed by  Inès  de la Fressange), and various figures of the  Christmas crèche.

Not many Americans know this, but there is an old Epiphany tradition in Louisiana, too. A King Cake is baked with a "baby" inside. The person who finds it is then the King. Twelfth Night marks the beginning of the Mardi Gras season. In New Orleans, Christmas and Mardi Gras celebrations take all the time between Thanksgiving and Ash Wednesday at the beginning of Lent.

Twelfth Night also means it's time to take the Christmas tree down. So sad!

The bigamist

One of my friends told me that her husband had a secret child, the same age as her oldest. She had known about it for years, but this summer her children found out.

"What are men thinking?" said another friend when she heard this. "A woman I know was holding her husband's hand in the hospital before a dangerous operation. The doctors had told him that if the operation were not successful, he could become a vegetable or die. He was about to be wheeled away when he squeezed her hand, pressed a piece of paper into it, and said, 'If I die, please take care of my other family.'

"The thing is, he lived and was fine. So now he says, 'Why can't you just forget it? Let's just go back as we were before!'"

[Under French law a child cannot be disinherited, but shares an equal inheritance with all its siblings, and this now applies to children born outside of marriage as well.]

Cameron Parish after Hurricane Rita

[Blue FEMA roof on ruined house near Cameron. That's a refrigerator in the tree, below.]

It is very intense visiting Louisiana these days. All people can talk about is "the storm."

Cameron Parish (in Louisiana, the counties are called parishes) is completely destroyed. The whole parish was underwater, I believe for weeks, like St Bernard Parish, just outside New Orleans. But Cameron was not slowly submerged, but violently attacked by a huge storm surge. There is not a single house left habitable.

I couldn't believe people would go back there. Unlike New Orleans, which lived under a vague threat but had all the same survived almost 300 years of hurricanes, Cameron is on the Gulf coast, surrounded by marsh, and has been completely obliterated twice in the past fifty years. But there were people living in trailers here and there and you could hear the chain saws and see the blue roofs that mean they are trying to rebuild.

"What choice do they have?" my aunt said.

[ Left, Holly Beach, Cameron Parish,
before and after]

Ainsi soit-il

[Check out the sign on the tree]

I had lunch on Good Friday with some older cousins, two Cajun priests, and a friendly neighbor. They were all speaking French when I arrived.

"Continuez, s'il vous plaît!" I said, but they switched to English.

"It's not your Parisian French," they said.

Even when I was a child, it was still common to hear French in stores, but now it's so rare to be in a group of people who speak French that they are all out of practice.

They were all born in the 1920s or early '30s, and they are the last real generation of francophones in Louisiana. They were punished for speaking it in the schools, and their parents wanted them to speak English and be américains.

Dinner was a catfish courtbouillon-- fish is traditional on Good Friday in Louisiana-- followed by a fig and chocolate cake. The grace before the meal ended as always with "Ainsi soit-il." [Amen.]
 

"Dear France, Please buy us"

This letter was printed in the New Orleans Times-Picayune of 11 December 2005. I saw it pasted up in several places around town. I added the photos. You see a lot of French flags in Louisiana. These days that's often a bit of a political statement. New Orleans was a "Blue" city in the last presidential election.

Dear France,

Greetings from Louisiana! We are shopping for new owners, and we immediately thought of you! Our present rulers haven't been taking very good care of us and we are looking for a better deal. They are spending all our money in a place called Iraq (somewhere in the Middle East). We thought that perhaps you might want to revisit an old land deal you made long ago.

If you've been reading the papers lately, you may have noticed that we have had a few problems with "water". No, we're not offering you a deal on a damaged water park. (Although that's what it looks like from the air.) Seriously, we need help, and fast.

Some things you might like here:
1. We named the state after your King Louis
2. We named the city after your city, Orleans
3. We have lots of French names on the streets
4. We still have Napoleonic law (maybe you can explain it to us!)
5. A lot of our citizens speak French (the accent will grow on you)
6. We like French food and wine

What we can offer you:

1. a toehold (rather wet!) on the continent
2. an incredible port
3. Lots of oil and gas
4. Lots of restaurants
5. Jazz
6. Mardi Gras (you won't believe what we do with this!)
7. Some of the most beautiful houses in the world (very, very wet)

What we need from you is simple:
 
1. Wetland redevelopment
2. New levees
3. Lots of new houses (but we want them to look old like the ones we lost)
4. We need schools and hospitals rebuilt
5. If you insist, we wouldn't mind some more outdoor cafes like you folks are famous for.

Please think this over carefully. Our current owners are so busy in other countries, they might not even notice if you come down here and take a look around. We'll put you up in grand style in a place we call "The French Quarter" (yeah, really!) and you can have lunch at a place we built for your very own Napoleon, which we call (you guessed it!) Napoleons". You'll be right at home. [Napoleon House, right]

Oh, just remember, we would like the levees and the wetlands taken care of ASAP, sometime just after lunch if not sooner.

Yours sincerely,
A homeowner in New Orleans
Joan Fox

N.O. one here

New Orleans, Magazine Street

This morning it struck me for the first time that the New Orleans accent is really a French accent. Not that it sounds French-- but the nuances and emphases are French. "I'm comin' back wit' y'all."

Everyone I passed this morning said hello. The bicycle rider who had to swerve as I crossed the street called out, "Excuse me, ma'am."

I thought I would have a lot to write about New Orleans, but I understand now why the reporters felt overwhelmed, why they couldn't take lots of pictures. The life of the city is necessarily concentrated in the parts that weren't flooded, but that was only one-fifth of it: for the most part, a wealthy one-fifth. Yesterday morning I drove out North Rampart Street and on into Saint Bernard Parish, where my cousins and some reporters were the first rescuers with their boats five days after the storm. Then I drove around Lakeview, where my uncle and his brother grew up, and Fontainebleau and the old apartment building on Napoleon where I used to live. The water came as far as Freret.

The main street in the part of Saint Bernard I went to is called Paris Road. I wanted to take a photo of the sign, but most of the signs were blown away in the storm and haven't been replaced. All over the area hit by Katrina, stop signs have replaced traffic lights. theThe people who still live there are in white trailers from FEMA. Most of them are far away.

How do you describe a silent city? Where birds are the loudest noise? Block after block after block of houses with no one in them.

Not one person left in these housing projects. Not one person left in the nice houses by the lake. A few hardy people stripping drywall  in St. Bernard, who wave as I go by. The crowded French Quarter isn't crowded. In the morning when we come down for breakfast at the hotel, the only people in the breakfast room are the owners, talking over how to spend the inadequate insurance money. Is it worth investing so much when the tourists may never come back?

I hope they will. New Orleans needs them you.

Death of a city

I know I have posted on New Orleans ad nauseam, but I love this city and I am back. Behind me as I sit in the hotel lobby, employees are talking about the suicide rate. "Three hundred suicides in the city in the last two months," one of them said.

"I understand where that come from," said the voiturière (I know that sounds stupid but I can't remember the right word in English. The woman who parks your car and watches over it)."I came back after Katrina and saw my house and I bust right out cryin. Wasn't nothin left. Not a book, not a picture on the walls."

In the bar, which reopened last week, people were exchanging hurricane stories. "I had to wade to work with what I could carry, four and a half miles," said the woman bartender. "That duffel bag had ten pounds of dog food,  white shirt and a comb and a toothbrush. I lost everything else.'

"I told you to take everything," a mother said to her daughter.

"Well, 'everything' wouldn't fit in the car, Ma."

It's easy to park, the bar gave us free drinks, and the hotel is one-fifth the price of the last time I stayed here.

There are mattresses drying in the halls.

Noël encore: Twelfth Night reminds me of New Orleans

It's that time of year when people come back from their vacations, or leave Paris, so sad.... One thing I really don't like is seeing a Christmas tree in the gutter before Epiphany. Ça va pas, non? There are Twelve Days of Christmas, just as the song says; the last one is called Twelfth Night and people used to celebrate it with lots of good food and games. I love those old traditions. Anyway, one of mine is not taking down the tree until January 7th. It is still proudly standing in its German stand with a water supply, and beautiful on the dark evenings with its lights!

Today we are going to buy the galette des rois. It is a cake that appears in France after New Year's Day, sold with a crown, and inside is a little porcelain figure called the fève, or bean, because in the old days it really was a bean. Whoever gets the piece with the fève is the King or Queen for the day. Nowadays people collect the porcelain fèves and one of the ways most people choose their galette is by the fèves that are featured in that bakery-- they compete to have the most interesting fèves. I don't collect them, but I do keep them, and over the years there is quite a collection. Astérix le Gaulois, a golden crown-ring, the Virgin Mary, and all sorts of other personnages.

One of the reasons I care about Epiphany is that it was a big deal in Louisiana too. There the cake is called a King Cake and there is a "baby" inside. In New Orleans, the appearance of the King Cakes at Epiphany was the signal for the Mardi Gras season to begin. I never had a chance to go to a Mardi Gras ball, since I didn't live in New Orleans, and you have to be invited by a member of a Krewe [New Orleans social clubs that revolve around Mardi Gras...all year]. This year, I was so excited. One of my uncles who is in the biggest Krewe, Bacchus, had invited us to come for the 2006 parade and ball. The men ride on one of the floats-- you have to fork over a lot of money for this privilege-- and throw necklaces and trinkets to the screaming crowds. (Notice how the woman's hand on the right in the photo has painted her nails purple in honor of the Mardi Gras colors of purple, gold and green.) Traditionally they yell, "Throw me something, Mister!" At the end of the parade, the floats drive to the Convention Center-- the same one that was a disaster area after the hurricane-- and inside, park all around the dance floor, which becomes an immense ballroom for the Krewe's ball, with the floats providing the decor.

Poor New Orleans. And poor people of the city. And my poor uncle, whose family suffered its own disasters from the double hurricanes, and who can't ride in the parade this year. I know that Mardi Gras is frivolous and the least of New Orleans' problems, but it is still so sad that it won't ever be the same again. It was a joyful time (and I'm not talking about all the obscene nonsense down in the "Quawtah", which New Orleanians have been forced to avoid for the past twenty years). School got out for days, and everyone dressed up, and business stopped, just to have the world's best party. I remember my uncle laughing at the idea that businessmen from other cities would try to combine business with a trip to New Orleans during Mardi Gras time! Business!

This year the city is trying bravely to keep its Mardi Gras, though. Have a thought for the great city that was lost and is trying to live again.

A letter from Iraq

From my cousin's son D, from southern Louisiana, who just arrived in Iraq. He had enlisted in the National Guard to help pay for his college education five or six years ago. He is a really nice young man, not sophisticated, from a poor family, but unusually kind and thoughtful to everyone. One of nature's gentlemen. I hope that survives the next 18 months and that he comes home safely. I've tried to take out most of the identifying details.

Hi ya Big Family!

Sorry about being out of the loop for so long! I just kinda locked myself out of my own email account. I forgot the "Secret Password", and the Army is a big stickler for red-tape and paper-work nightmares. But I'm back in, and I just got done cleaning out about 407 emails, most of which was Russian Porn Spam-- weird, I have no idea how that happend :)! But I did see a bunch of emails about me floating through the family email tree, and I just wanted to give you all a Big HELLO!

So let's start with the important stuff! What are each and every one of you sending me for my B-Day? I'm turning 2X, which by the way makes all of you very very old, and you should all know that, in case no one has told you lately!!! No seriously, I'm turning 2X in a [non-U.S.]-run Forward Operating Base (FOB) in semi-southern Iraq, how not normal is that!

I have to tell you guys, I almost didn't come on this deployment because of all the hurricane stuff that had happend back home in the past couple of months! Katrina happened just before Labor Day weekend, and I was slotted to fly home for that "Family Fun Day" where we drank and ate and played with the kids, but mostly drank! Well, I had to break my mother's heart on that one. When news finally got to me of what had happened, I called and called until I finally got through to my unit, who only had a skeleton crew left in [Louisiana city] while most of them were already in New Orleans working day and night to keep things under control! Not a fun weekend for me at all, seeing all those fellow coonasses [Cajun slang for other Cajuns, but my mother says, "It's very rude"], tired, de-hydrated, without food or power  for days. They came in truck-loads, or walked miles, old, very old, and young, too young. I have to tell all of you how much that made me hurt, for us, for our city, for home. I had to leave after that weekend and go back to work in [another state].  Needless to say I had a very bad attitude for a while. It wasn't easy for me to choose between our home and the Big Army, especially after [Hurricane] Rita hit y'all. I told my chain of command I was coming off the deployment and going home to work. Well, needless to say they talked me out of it. Right now there's a huge deficiency of people like myself in the Army, and we're needed like you wouldn't believe, so, I had to leave for the "Box." I never got another chance to come home-- no leave, not even a break or pass to do much of anything-- not that I'm complaining, just that I wanted to come home and thank all y'all for the emails and everything!

So real quick let me tell you about Iraq, funny place, people here aren't what you'd think.... you think they're okay, till you get a look into their psyche, and then you go, "WOOH, these people aren't okay." It's winter-time here, not too bad really, great sunrises and beautiful sunsets! Everything's dusty or foggy, depending on the wind and amount of ground-level air pollution. And yes, visibility is very limited, not yet a scenic place, but you can almost picture how it will be one day when these people get their act together.

And please excuse, if my tone sounds harsh towards the Iraqis, understand that I'm toning it down for the sake of being politically correct with the family, I know the [great-]Aunts read these emails too. You just have to understand that the locals here never worked for their own freedom, they were cowed for decades by fear and death, murder and corruption. No matter how hard you try to appeal to the hearts and minds of these people, they don't really know how to believe in themselves and certainly not each other. Hopes lies in the children, beautiful children with hope and wonder in their eyes. I love playing soccer with the kids, little brats are better than me some of them. But fear is rampant in this world, thugs, corrupt individuals, insurgents especially are the rule here. Mostly violence is the spoken language in this country, sad to say but very true.

Sorry about the long tirade, but I just want all of you to have a realistic idea of what happens here. I'll always try to be objective with y'all, for I know how many smart, educated, knowledgeable, and witty individuals we have in our family, and then there's MN!!

Listen if it helps, my address here is: [  ]

It's funny they actually took a NYC postal code and spread it all over Iraq, so it's really cheap to mail stuff home (hint, hint!!).

Love y'all, hope everyone's doing well, and that no one is spoiling their kids. I just couldn't take one more  Christmas with everyone's bratty kids!! Especially after being in Iraq for 18 months!! Haha, just kidding, one more bad joke for the KING of poor taste humor!!

Be Safe,

D

Two months after Hurricane Rita

A letter from Aunt B to her niece's son D in Iraq:

So much has happened since you left.  Mostly storm stuff, which I'll summarize by saying the storm may have come through two months ago, but believe me, it's far from being over. There is destruction everywhere you look, every road you turn, new scenes which make you shake your head.  The weather bureau said they stopped counting at 125 tornadoes.  Yesterday we spoke to a man who rode the storm out in his home, and he said it sounded like a train on top of his house for eight straight hours.  Personally, we lost about seven huge trees, two of which fell on the carport, and one nipped the edge of the house, meaning we had to replace all roofs.   Comparatively speaking, we came out lucky, though there is not a single tree left in our back yard which now resembles a muddy, dirt driveway. (Much due to the utility vehicles needed to remove the tree debris.)  The [formerly thick] woods are so sparse that we see [a mile through them]. Our view from the back windows of our home shows tangled, mangled, dangling tree branches and massive up-turned root balls, leaving gaping holes 10-12 feet deep. This scene is in the woods on the edge of our  property which is undeveloped, meaning no one will be cleaning up that mess. For the first time in my life, I'm thinking about putting up a fence. [For before-and-after photos, see this post from right afterwards.]

J and A and families became homeless. A huge branch fell on the K's house and water poured in for hours, meaning all the bedding, clothes, tvs, toys, had to be put on the curb. Of course, the water proceeded to spread into the kitchen. When the mold started forming, it was clear they could not live in the house without major repairs.  J's brand new house, due to be moved into the week of the storm, took a major hit with a tree smashing the entire front of the house, hours of rain pouring in, ruining almost every single room.  Both families moved in with us until just two weeks ago.  The bank has allowed J and H to occupy the kitchen, bedroom and bath of the new house, meaning they are basically "camping out" in their new home.  No place to put things, as the closets and bedrooms in the other parts of the house are stripped to the studs .  And of course, there's no attic.  Much of their "stuff" is in plastic bags under the carport, subject to wind and rain. Not a pretty picture.  Luckily, the Cs had another rental house for the Ks to rent until they can occupy the house they'd purchased just before the storm. That's what I mean about my personal loss being so minimal.  Even so, our problems pale in  comparison to what people suffered in New Orleans.  So you can see why the storms have come, but have not gone.

Anyway, dear D, you have enough troubles of your own.  We think of and pray for you very often.  When I think of our family Christmas party this year, it's hard to imagine it without you....Take care of yourself, D.