The Mississippi on Mother's Day

Photo courtesy of Camilynne Photography

Mother's Day evening found me floating down the Mississippi on a steamboat.  The suns rays fell like a cloak over my shoulders then faded into the twilight.  I sat at the railing on the boiler deck (the middle deck) surrounded by some of the people I love most, doing what I love most:  traveling the world. 

I think I'm just as much of an anthropologist as I am a musician.  Different peoples and cultures fascinate and fulfill my heart.  I'm not sure why, but the toothless black gentleman that drove my cab to church in New Orleans pulled at my heartstrings (c'mon, not in that way).  I wanted to know all about him:  where was he raised, how he got out of Katrina, why he was still driving a cab at the age of seventy six and what happened to all of his teeth?  I asked him everything except for the part about the teeth.  

Saturday through Tuesday offered nonstop jazz on every corner in the French Quarter of one of the U.S.A.'s most romantic cities.  Jambalaya, Poboys, Muffulettas, Red Beans and Rice, Fried Gator and of course, Pralines were served followed by trips for fresh diced pineapple at the French Market.  From the gator infested bayou on the Pearl River to the tomb of Voudou queen, Marie Laveau, my nomadic little soul was in wanderlust heaven.

However, I didn't go to "Nawlins" just to satisfy my inner nomad.  You can read all about the REAL reason in the next post!

Photo courtesy of Camilynne Photography