So you may
be a bit confused about the New Orleans social dynamic. Today, I am going to attempt to explain a bit
how people here interact with one another.
Try and keep up.
New Orleans
is a small town disguised as a big city.
The population in the metropolitan area is about 1.2 million
people. That doesn’t include suburban
areas, mind you. However, I can’t go to
the grocery store, post office, or bank without running into someone I know, or
who knows OF me because I went to high school with their cousin. Keep in mind, this is before the days of
Facebook.
Everyone
knows everyone else’s business. Helpful,
sometimes, but annoying a lot of the time.
I can be innocently buying a loaf of bread at the Rouses. Perhaps the latest issue of Vogue as well, if
I’m feeling couture and some Tylenol because I have a headache. *Tap on shoulder*… “Aren’t you so-and-so’s little girl?” Sigh.
I’m in my thirties. “Yes, Ma’am, I
am.” Then it begins. “How’s your Mama, darling? I haven’t seen her in ages! Is your Maw-Maw (Grandmother, in any other
part of the world) still volunteering at the hospital? Is your Daddy still constipated?....” And so it goes. I smile, make conversation, even if I have
pressing issues otherwise. Why, you may
ask? Because, you see, that precious
little lady with the helmet-hair will call my Mama as soon as she gets home if
I’m rude, and then I have to purchase new pants because the butt has been
chewed off of my old ones. That’s how it
goes. I don’t really mind most of the
time. I laugh as I’m walking back to my
car, simultaneously shaking my head. And
I still get the call from my Mama later.
“I heard you saw so-and-so at the Rouses. She said you look tired, and you were buying
Tylenol. Are you sick?” Sigh.
And this is
how it goes, in every part of the city, day in and day out. It amazes me that anyone pays a parking
ticket in this town. Everybody knows
somebody whose mother’s cousin is a police officer, or a senator. And, when planning any type of event, you
better check with your Mama, Daddy, Father-in-Law, Mother-in-Law and the rest
of your family tree because that cousin of yours (or theirs) is a florist,
baker, tailor or crawfish boil master, and they will be offended if you don’t
ask for their help. And, just pray for
sanity if there are TWO crawfish boil masters in the family.
In a world
where people put their private lives on display, then complain they have no
privacy, us Louisianans laugh. We’ve
never had privacy. That boil you had in
the third grade? Yeah, everybody
knows. Why? Because your Mama called everybody and asked
what the best remedy would be. And,
don’t be surprised when it comes up in civilized conversation at a dinner
party. “That boil you had once, did it
ever come back? Did it leave a scar? Can I see, because, you know, my sister has a
boil?” And now YOU have dinner
conversation. “Did you hear about Amy’s
sister’s boil?”
However,
with our c’est la vie attitude that I mentioned before, we let it roll
off. Laugh about it sometimes, cringe at
others. It is futile to argue. Let me explain why. Follow this conversation:
Me: Hi, Mom!
I called to see if Daddy is feeling ok today.
Mom: He’s ok, I suppose. Nothing we can’t handle. Oh, I heard you’re planning to go on vacation! Where ya goiiinnnn??
Me: Who said that?
Mom: Well, your Nanny’s (Godmother, anywhere else)
hairdresser saw you at the mall buying a swimsuit in January. I assume that means you are going somewhere
tropical. Why else would you buy a swimsuit
in January? Are you going to Grand
Isle? She also said your roots needed a
touch-up.
Sheesh.
And we
laugh. Because, why not laugh? It’s the way of life here. And it’s not just the city itself. It’s all over this glorious state. I can be in Baton Rouge. *Tap on shoulder* “Aren’t you so-and-so’s
little girl?” Sigh.
As I have
said before, tourist or native. You will
not meet a stranger in this city.
Because, for every person that’s rude to you here (they probably weren’t
born in Louisiana, we won’t claim them), you will find a dozen that will go out
of their way to help you out, and while they are doing so subtly (or not-so-subtly)
grill you about who you are and where you’re from. Why do we do that? I guess we all see ourselves as an extended
family. Your happiness is ours, so is
your pain, joy and shame. We live it
with you, sympathize or empathize, depending on the situation. We love to talk and connect with other
people. You would think there is a prize
for the most talkative New Orleanian.
There isn’t.
That’s why
our politics are so fabulous (That’s a whole different topic, though).
Well, my
dears, I have a million and one ideas to write about. If you have suggestions, comments, feedback,
let me know. The comments are open to
everyone, not just Google users. And the
response to this has been overwhelming, and I thank you. And to my UK, French and Italian readers,
Hey, y’all welcome to our particular brand of crazy!
Kahne you certainly still have a way with words! I absolutely love how you capture the essence of "our" city! Well done!
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