Mardi Gras with My Dad and the Revelers We May Never Know
In a year unlike any other, a writer discovers a hidden trove of his father’s photographs and unearths a vintage view of New Orleans
January 28, 2021
Lady Godiva is dancing as beer sloshes in its mug. She’s in the French Quarter, on the corner of St. Ann and Royal streets. Behind her stands a bulb-nosed man in what’s left of his tuxedo. Off to the side is a child, perhaps Godiva’s daughter. She’s in white boots and a majorette uniform. This young girl, quite likely the only sober person on this street corner, regards with mild interest the photographer, who is my father, Jerry Tisserand. It’s Mardi Gras in New Orleans, 1959.
In Iceland, they celebrate Christmas Eve with a tradition of jólabókaflóð, the âYule Book Flood.â People give books on Christmas Eve and spend the evening reading, preferably with chocolate close at hand. Sounds like a great idea to me!
Itâs easy to have your own Yule Book Flood with Louisiana books this year, which has brought us so many big, beautiful volumes â one good thing to come out of 2020! Visit your favorite indie bookstore â shop local! â and stock up on chocolate. Santa, your book bag runneth over.
Beautiful coffee table books
âAfro-Creole Poetry in French from Louisianaâs Radical Civil War-Era Newspapers: A Bilingual Edition,â translated and introduced by Clint Bruce, with a foreword by Angel Adams Parham (Historic New Orleans Collection, $40) is a fascinating look at the world of the free people of color who contributed poetry to African American newspapers. The introduction is illuminating and draws the reader