cincibuck
You kids stay off my lawn!
The reporter, Cal LaMantierre, is a fellow Vietnam Vet. We've enjoyed a long and wonderful correspondence, keeping each other appraised of major events in our lives. Here's his report on the Super Bowl:
Subject: Re: HELLO FROM THE WHO DAT NATION
I bailed out of a rather tense Super Bowl party at my friend Gene's long before the game started. Doc has always been able to gather folks of comparable intellect and character - companionable folks who socialize well. Last night he failed miserably. His guests, a gathering of sharp tongued, argumentative, antisocial physicians that amounted to but a gathering of premadonna pains in the butt! I hadn't finished my first glass of wine before I decided this was going to be a tense, uncomfortable evening and I didn't want a bunch of nasty, uptight folks spoiling a game I'd waited for as long as I can remember. I made my apologies to Gene claiming a headache - he saw through it but wished me well.
When I walked into my peaceful, quiet home, I knew this was the place to watch the game ... at home in high def and by myself. I made some popcorn and some pork roast dip, opened a bottle of wine and settled down for the game.
Not since that time when I was in DC and the Washington Red Skins whipped Dallas in the Super Bowl, have I enjoyed a game more thoroughly! I was left with a sore throat and a damn near empty bottle of wine. What a game! I never felt the least bit self conscious standing in the middle of the bedroom in my skivvies holding a glass of Merlot and yelling at the top of my lungs. There were a couple of moments- especially when the kid ran that two pointer and dropped the ball ... but his feet had been inside the goal posts and it counted. How I yelled about that one! Lovely! Thank goodness for instant replay because frankly, I thought it was a miss.
Flushed with the thrill of victory, I realized it was Sunday and I needed to take the trash cans to the curb. An un-heroic end to an heroic evening. Put on my clothes and as soon as I walked out of the front door with the garbage cans, I saw a full fledged block party in progress on the empty lot in front of the house! Strangely enough, it was fairly quiet. Not many teens - mostly working folks and children. I met folks from three blocks around. I was one of five white person in attendance among a hundred or so blacks!
Man, what a party! Someone drove me to the CVS store (I had consumed the better part of a bottle of Merlot and didn't want to drive.) Anyway I bought two of those boxes of Vella Delicious Red wine and set them up on the porch with a bunch of Styrofoam cups. They already had coolers of beer and hard liquor. They blocked Day Street with cars from the corner in front of my house to half way down the block toward Bolton Avenue! Folks from all over dragged their charcoal cookers - someone helped me drag my gas grill out on the sidewalk. There were three packs of chicken thighs in the fridge. One of the big black ladies was helping me shop in my refrigerator. She discovered two large trays of chicken necks and backs that I planned to boil into chicken stock Monday. I thought the lady had discovered five fillet mignons, the way she acted. We found several packs of kielbasa, five or 6 cans of baked beans in the pantry and a bunch of bacon abandoned in fridge that could be put to better use. She took one of my big pots, fried the bacon on my stove, added about 2 heads of chopped onions, bell peppers, jalape?o slices and some garlic and then she added the baked beans as well as 4 cans of great Northern white beans... "Dey's all gonna come out like poke 'n beans, honey" she said.
In any event, they dumped the chops and chicken necks and backs in one of my shrimp pots and poured about two quarts of someone's hot, spicy BBQ sauce over them. The men proceeded to grill, broil and otherwise cook the meat everyone had provided. There must have been 20 charcoal grills on the sidewalk! There was a haze over Day Street! That and someone drove up with one of those cars with the big speakers in the trunk. Whoever it was had some pretty well programmed CD's .,.. a mixture of Caribbean Reggae, Latin American Carnival, Mexican Salsa, Cajun Two Step and Hip Hop! Here I was, Mr. Up Tight allowing folks to block traffic, dance in the street and being party to it all! And there was nary a cop in sight!
By and by the grills started yielding cooked food. Its not a pretty thing to watch one of those ladies eat a chicken neck! I've never tasted such wonderful BBQ'd pork chops, ribs, pork cutlets, chicken necks and backs, turkey breast, sausage, dirty rice, potato salad, macaroni salad and other things I'm not sure I want to identify!
Somebody commandeered someone's garbage can and then lined it with a garbage bag and poured several bags of ice over an incredible number of beer cans. I contributed my two boxes of wine. Every few minutes someone would yell "Who Dat" and everybody would yell "Who Dat say Who Dat when I say Who Dat!" And the chant would last for two or three minutes. I danced with a number of ladies - I don't ever dance!
I didn't go to bed until nearly 4 AM. I got up at 10 AM no worse for the wear. I expected a hangover but there wasn't one. Must have been that fiery BBQ and those cold potato, and spicy macaroni and shrimp salads I'm loathe to eat when I'm sober. In any event, I found the gas grill in the back yard where it belonged; my shoes, socks and the large pot were on the front porch. The pot and utensils had been washed and sometime before I got up, the garbage man had come through. The garbage cans were on the sidewalk emptied. There were few reminders of an great evening remaining. A stain or two on the sidewalk left by someone who spilled some beans - a cup of potato salad in the azalea bush, Who Dat written all over the sidewalk in chalk...
I have no idea who all those folks were ... neighbors presumably - but just for one bright shining evening, there were no whites, no blacks, no rich, no poor - just a bunch of Who Data's celebrating a victory 43 years overdue! On Sunday January 10, 2010, the spirit of the New Orleans Saints ruled the night - something I fear, will not happen again for another 43 years. But this one time the stars alighted. The Saints won big and Day Street was once again a neighborhood. And to think I could have suffered silently at Genes. I'm telling you the stars were in perfect alignment last night!
Now Who Say Who Dat when I say Who Dat?
Calvin
Subject: Re: HELLO FROM THE WHO DAT NATION
I bailed out of a rather tense Super Bowl party at my friend Gene's long before the game started. Doc has always been able to gather folks of comparable intellect and character - companionable folks who socialize well. Last night he failed miserably. His guests, a gathering of sharp tongued, argumentative, antisocial physicians that amounted to but a gathering of premadonna pains in the butt! I hadn't finished my first glass of wine before I decided this was going to be a tense, uncomfortable evening and I didn't want a bunch of nasty, uptight folks spoiling a game I'd waited for as long as I can remember. I made my apologies to Gene claiming a headache - he saw through it but wished me well.
When I walked into my peaceful, quiet home, I knew this was the place to watch the game ... at home in high def and by myself. I made some popcorn and some pork roast dip, opened a bottle of wine and settled down for the game.
Not since that time when I was in DC and the Washington Red Skins whipped Dallas in the Super Bowl, have I enjoyed a game more thoroughly! I was left with a sore throat and a damn near empty bottle of wine. What a game! I never felt the least bit self conscious standing in the middle of the bedroom in my skivvies holding a glass of Merlot and yelling at the top of my lungs. There were a couple of moments- especially when the kid ran that two pointer and dropped the ball ... but his feet had been inside the goal posts and it counted. How I yelled about that one! Lovely! Thank goodness for instant replay because frankly, I thought it was a miss.
Flushed with the thrill of victory, I realized it was Sunday and I needed to take the trash cans to the curb. An un-heroic end to an heroic evening. Put on my clothes and as soon as I walked out of the front door with the garbage cans, I saw a full fledged block party in progress on the empty lot in front of the house! Strangely enough, it was fairly quiet. Not many teens - mostly working folks and children. I met folks from three blocks around. I was one of five white person in attendance among a hundred or so blacks!
Man, what a party! Someone drove me to the CVS store (I had consumed the better part of a bottle of Merlot and didn't want to drive.) Anyway I bought two of those boxes of Vella Delicious Red wine and set them up on the porch with a bunch of Styrofoam cups. They already had coolers of beer and hard liquor. They blocked Day Street with cars from the corner in front of my house to half way down the block toward Bolton Avenue! Folks from all over dragged their charcoal cookers - someone helped me drag my gas grill out on the sidewalk. There were three packs of chicken thighs in the fridge. One of the big black ladies was helping me shop in my refrigerator. She discovered two large trays of chicken necks and backs that I planned to boil into chicken stock Monday. I thought the lady had discovered five fillet mignons, the way she acted. We found several packs of kielbasa, five or 6 cans of baked beans in the pantry and a bunch of bacon abandoned in fridge that could be put to better use. She took one of my big pots, fried the bacon on my stove, added about 2 heads of chopped onions, bell peppers, jalape?o slices and some garlic and then she added the baked beans as well as 4 cans of great Northern white beans... "Dey's all gonna come out like poke 'n beans, honey" she said.
In any event, they dumped the chops and chicken necks and backs in one of my shrimp pots and poured about two quarts of someone's hot, spicy BBQ sauce over them. The men proceeded to grill, broil and otherwise cook the meat everyone had provided. There must have been 20 charcoal grills on the sidewalk! There was a haze over Day Street! That and someone drove up with one of those cars with the big speakers in the trunk. Whoever it was had some pretty well programmed CD's .,.. a mixture of Caribbean Reggae, Latin American Carnival, Mexican Salsa, Cajun Two Step and Hip Hop! Here I was, Mr. Up Tight allowing folks to block traffic, dance in the street and being party to it all! And there was nary a cop in sight!
By and by the grills started yielding cooked food. Its not a pretty thing to watch one of those ladies eat a chicken neck! I've never tasted such wonderful BBQ'd pork chops, ribs, pork cutlets, chicken necks and backs, turkey breast, sausage, dirty rice, potato salad, macaroni salad and other things I'm not sure I want to identify!
Somebody commandeered someone's garbage can and then lined it with a garbage bag and poured several bags of ice over an incredible number of beer cans. I contributed my two boxes of wine. Every few minutes someone would yell "Who Dat" and everybody would yell "Who Dat say Who Dat when I say Who Dat!" And the chant would last for two or three minutes. I danced with a number of ladies - I don't ever dance!
I didn't go to bed until nearly 4 AM. I got up at 10 AM no worse for the wear. I expected a hangover but there wasn't one. Must have been that fiery BBQ and those cold potato, and spicy macaroni and shrimp salads I'm loathe to eat when I'm sober. In any event, I found the gas grill in the back yard where it belonged; my shoes, socks and the large pot were on the front porch. The pot and utensils had been washed and sometime before I got up, the garbage man had come through. The garbage cans were on the sidewalk emptied. There were few reminders of an great evening remaining. A stain or two on the sidewalk left by someone who spilled some beans - a cup of potato salad in the azalea bush, Who Dat written all over the sidewalk in chalk...
I have no idea who all those folks were ... neighbors presumably - but just for one bright shining evening, there were no whites, no blacks, no rich, no poor - just a bunch of Who Data's celebrating a victory 43 years overdue! On Sunday January 10, 2010, the spirit of the New Orleans Saints ruled the night - something I fear, will not happen again for another 43 years. But this one time the stars alighted. The Saints won big and Day Street was once again a neighborhood. And to think I could have suffered silently at Genes. I'm telling you the stars were in perfect alignment last night!
Now Who Say Who Dat when I say Who Dat?
Calvin
