Gettin' in Rhythm

I wander over to the Fargo, N.D. library to borrow their CD set “Crescent City Classics Vols. 1-4” (this is a great set of songs anyone who grew up in N’wawlins, compiled into a four disk set). Alas, some other frustrated citizen of the Mardi Gras Nation has checked it out. Ditto the big box set of Louis Armstrong I was going to grab. But what do I find in the disk stacks but Mos’ Scocious, the Dr. John Anthology. Synchronicity is a funny thing, so I grab it, and wax nostalgic to Morgus the Magnificent and Wash, Mama, Wash (one of the great N’wawlins songs).

Also, I get to show my daughter some pics of Dr. John is his, well, Dr. John period. “That is what a great Mardi Gras costume looks like,” I tell my 13-year old daughter. She sighs and rolls her eyes.

My wife and daughter like to refer to me at certain times as, well, flamboyant. Halloween comes to mind. Then again, I’m the only guy in Fargo N.D. who regularly wears a beret all the cold months and a Shantung straw all summer. I prefer to think of my self as colorful, just this side of eccentric. They insist on flamboyant. Ok, fine. But my daughter is increasingly resigned that she is going to have to go to Mardi Gras with this lunatic who used to be her father.

“The biggest drum led the big parade / All on a Mardi Gras day”. Oom Pah Lay!

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