All That Jazz

“What happens in Vegas may stay in Vegas, but what happens in New Orleans, goes home with you.”  ~Laurell K. Hamilton


 Tom Hook~Charlie Fardella/Old Rocking Chair
 Charmaine Neville/The Right Key, But You Stuck It In the Wrong Keyhole

Last week was a milestone in my life: I turned 50.  For my celebration, we decided we wanted to party BIG - blow the lid off so to speak.  We’ve not done that in a while, and it seemed like the perfect occasion to let loose and get a little rowdy.  When life presents you with a perfect opportunity to do such a thing like that, take it.  We did.  I couldn’t think of a better place to accomplish this than the Motherlode {from what I’d heard} of rowdy~good times and letting loose than “The Big Easy” itself.  So, that’s just where we decided to go.  Having never visited there before, let me just say this: Boy, it did NOT disappoint!  We met up with family and some dear friends for a grand celebration.
If you’ve never been to New Orleans — NOLA as it’s known to the locals, then I encourage you to visit there just once in your lifetime.  It’s a fascinating place.  The food isn’t the only thing rich with flavor!  The people, the culture and the overall attitude all have that same essence about it.  Some places are more interesting than others.  NOLA is definitely one such place.
I don’t know which is more fabulous – the food or the jazz.  You visit and decide for yourself.  Both merit writing home about as far as I’m concerned.
The first day that we were there, we had lunch at a little outside café where, you got it, jazz was played.  It set the tone for the rest of the trip.  Afterwards, I took Richard Simmons’ advice and just walked the French Quarter for awhile.  My sister-in-law and I perused the shops while my husband and brother-in-law-in-waiting followed along.   Later that evening, we went to a little jazz club on Bourbon Street called Fritzels where the jazz was hot and the Jack Daniel’s was smooth and we "Laissez les bon temps roulez" {Let the Good Times Roll} Yes, indeedy! And, roll they did...
There is something about good jazz — it touches places deep in the soul — stirs feelings and emotions that are way down inside.  Sometimes, you don’t even know such feelings are there until a chord is struck or key is hit or a note is played.  Then, it resonates inside and pulls it forward and up, and you FEEL it.  It can make the heart smile or cry or both.  It’s an experience, I tell you.  Tom Hook and Charlie Fardella were masters on Monday night when we partied with them.  They were a hoot and we provided the holler, and it was a good time.  Every set was better than the next. By the end of the evening, we felt like we’d made new friends.
After we left Tom and Charlie, we moved over to Frenchmen Street and ventured into Snug Harbor Jazz Club.  We caught about 20 minutes of another band—a quintet led by Charmaine Neville.  Her personality was like a fire cracker, but her voice had a flowing velvet quality about it. She was big into audience participation.   Oh my God!  And, they had cow bell!  Can you say “AWESOME”?  By that time, it was late in the evening.  The audience was happily mellow and feeling no pain.  So, when the last song came, and she asked everyone to do this crazy dance, I don’t think anyone cared how silly we all looked.  We weren’t going to see each other again, and those of us who were knew how to keep a mum word.  We threw caution to the wind and performed her dance as she asked.  I’m quite certain I looked especially “Puttin’ on the Ritz” with my cane in hand.  Hey, I went to NOLA for the experience, Baby, and I intended to get it!  It was a riot!  We blew the lid off the place just laughing as we all busted a move and grooved with the band, as the dawn of another day approached.  Not just ANY day, mind you!  The 13th of August — my 50th birthday! WOO*HOO!  That’s how it felt for me being in New Orleans for my milestone birthday with family and friends.
After we closed Snug Harbor, there was a guy [his name was Matt] sitting on the sidewalk about a block down, with an old, brown Underwood typewriter with the keys that each had that perfect circular disc that old-time typewriters use to have.  He wrote poetry.  For $10 or $20 dollars, he’d write a special poem just for you.
See what I mean about the flavor–the character of the people there?
My soon-to-be brother-in-law, Paul, thought it was too special an opportunity to pass up and told Matt that he had 10 minutes to write me a special poem because I was about to hit the BIG 50.
“Oh, yeah?” the guy asks, brushing his nose as he inhaled a cigarette.
“Yep!” I say.  “It’s coming for me!”
He chuckled.
“What’s your name, Hon?”
“Jhill,” I tell him.  “With an ‘h’.”
“Mm,” he replied, glancing at me sideways.  “Different.  I like that.”
I laugh.
“Well, I can’t take the credit,” I tell him.  “My mother is the one who did it.”
He winked.  “She musta known you were gonna be special.”
I think I blushed.
My husband agreed with him.
He began to pound on the keys of that antique typewriter.  I gotta tell you, for a writer, it was music to the ears.  I folded my hands to my chest and waited with excited anticipation for him to give me the few lines that had been penned just for me.
I rested my cheek against my husband’s chest as he wrapped his arm around me while Matt read me my poem.  It was a magical moment....like catching a snowflake on your tongue from the season’s first snowfall.  I thanked him, and he wished me a happy birthday as the clock struck midnight. In that moment, I got a kiss from my husband and hugs from my sister-in law and brother-in-law-in-waiting.  Good times.  50 had started off on a high note.
We had a big celebration waiting for us the following day, and I knew I needed to rest up for it.  We hailed a taxi and headed back to the hotel and anxiously awaiting puppies.
Before the evening concluded, however, it got a little more interesting.  Our cab driver was a cool cat named Wellington Courredge.  I kid you not!  Isn’t that a GREAT name?  Wellington Courredge.  I couldn’t make that up!  He had just as much flavor and spice about him as all the other characters in our three act play that evening.  He was 60 years old, and told us he’d been driving a cab for 35 years.  And the stories he had to tell.  Lord, he started to tell us a few of them and we were awestruck listening intently to the unusual bedtime story that was being recited to us in a taxi cab cruising the streets of New Orleans.  God.  I LOVE that city!  He said he’d started to write some of them down but stopped.  He wasn’t sure why he stopped?   I told him that he MUST continue to write his stories down because they were too good not to share with the rest of us.  He thanked me for that vote of confidence.   I also asked him for his name, because I told him that I was a writer, and he was too good a character not to share with the rest of the world.  I wanted to make certain that I attributed his story accurately when I wrote of my experience in my blog, which I assured him that I fully intended to do.
He blessed me for wanting to include him, and told me his name.  When he found out it was my 50th birthday, he was all over it —  wishing me blessings and happiness for my day.  He reached his hand out as I stepped out of the cab, and when I took it, he squeezed it hard.
“You have a great day – a Happy Birthday!”
“Thank you!” I told him, squeezing back.  “You’ve started it off rather nicely!”
I think when you meet interesting people you should share them with the rest of the world, and I met some fascinating ones on August 12th as I eased into my birthday.  So, if you’re ever in NOLA and Tom Hook and Charlie Fardella are shaking things up at Fritzels, or Charmaine Neville & her quintet are riling up the audience at Snug Harbor, if you see a guy named Matt on a sidewalk with an antique typewriter writing poems or you stumble upon a cab driver named Wellington Courredge, take my advice,  spend some time with each and every one of them.  It’s an experience that will touch deep places in your heart.  THEY will affect you in a special way just like those jazzy sounds that NOLA is famous for.  It’s the kind of experience that you’ll take home with you.  Trust me on that...