Superbowl

I was in New Orleans for the game.

There’s not much I can add to what I said here.  I’m thrilled and happy and proud of my hometown and so very happy for all of the Saints fans in the Gulf Coast.   As some pundits have pointed out, the Saints victory doesn’t help with insurance forms, it doesn’t build houses, and it doesn’t attract jobs… but it does provide emotional sustenance to the men and women who struggle with the daily process of rebuilding.  This is a victory that hundreds of thousands of people will carry in their hearts for a long, long time.

Who dat say dey gonna beat dem Saints?

Not the Colts and not Peyton Manning.

Not even Katrina.

Wynton Marsalis wrote a tribute to the City and the Saints, played during the pregame show. The text is here. If anyone know where the video is, I’d love to find it.

New Orleans, N’Awlins, the Crescent City, the Big Easy, the northern capitol of the Caribbean, Groove City. Man, they have things down there you wouldn’t believe. A mythic place of Mardi-Gras and mumbo, Voodoo and the moss-covered alligator-spiked pathways of back-country swamp drained and sprinkled with gris-gris dust to house a wild, unruly population. A city with they own cuisine, they own architecture, they own music..streets with names like Dorgenois and Tchoupitoulas.

Down here, people like to brag about how they handle tragedy. Epochal hurricanes like Betsy and Camille are discussed as if they’re people. “Betsy was bad but Camille, ‘Lawd Have Mercy’, the water was up here to my neck.” Nobody brags on Katrina. She swept through here like death on a high horse. Those flood waters seemed to run all the demons, goblins, AND saints away forever. There goes old Jean Lafitte the pirate relocated to Houston, there goes old Jelly Roll Morton off somewhere in Memphis with that diamond still sparklin in his front tooth.

We live the moment. Laissez les bon temps rouler! –Let the Good Times Roll. I think I hear that trumpet calling the children of the Who Dat Nation home–not Gabriel’s or the horns that blew down the walls of Jericho–that jazz trumpet conjuring up the spirit world with a Congo Square drum cadence. Ghosts, goblins, and ‘haints aggravate. Saints congregate. I hear them now bringing that 43 year second line to a glorious crescendo. “Who Dat Say What Dat When Us Do Dat?” It’s like waiting 43 years to hear somebody say ‘I Love You’ back. And they do. Let the tale be told ’bout how the black and gold won the Super Bowl.

And those jazzmen still play sad songs but they always end happy…..they always do.

Read the whole damn thing. And if you find the video, send it to me!