March 20, 2007: homesick

Last Friday I attended a Dixieland Jazz concert in Tulsa with a good friend. The music was excellent, the group with whom I watched were very cordial and I had a great time. But several times, attendees naively asked if the Dixieland music was what I had experienced in New Orleans. I replied, "No, I was not in New Orleans. I was down the Bayou or in Houma. I heard Cajun and Zydeco music" -- something barely comprehended by people here. Dixieland is for tourists who visit the French Quarter. It's still there in a couple of clubs -- next to the punk rock bars on Bourbon Street -- a place few residents of New Orleans and fewer residents of the Bayous ever go.

I got "homesick." Comfortable and among friends in Oklahoma, I nevertheless missed terribly the old Jolly Inn, the Cajun fais do-do there, playing the rub board and being among friends. I know I can never claim to being a real Cajun. Real Cajuns live down Pointe aux Chenes or lower Lafourche parish and listen to that plastic country western stuff, which I can get here any time I want. But I'm a Cajun at heart, if not by blood, and I miss that "chanky-chank" music which is so dear. I miss my friend Rayjohn and Tipitina's and the most awesome dancing I've ever personally seen (you'll never convince me sweaty women aren't sexy!). There's a case of bayou fever that's got me now, and though it may be in remission from time to time, I don't think I'll ever get over it. And I don't want to.
Peace. Warren