Revel with a Cause
As a New Orleans expat, my favorite Louisiana holiday is January 6 or Twelfth Night, the first day of carnival season. It’s also the Feast of the Epiphany when the magi found the baby Jesus, and it’s celebrated with everything from small jambalaya suppers to lavish masked balls. Costumed guests bask in the purplish glow of Mardi Gras trees while feasting on Creole and Cajun dishes, and the evening’s crescendo is always the appearance of the gateau de roi, or king cake. Gaudily festooned with icing of purple, green and gold, the colors of carnival, it hides a tiny baby Jesus and is sliced and served with much ceremony. Whoever finds the baby is crowned king or queen for the evening and given a special gift. When I fell in love with a Californian and left the...
Read MoreSweet Home, Alabama
There are many reasons why certain novels transcend style and substance to ransack our hearts. They provide a seminal experience, borderline seductive even, delivering frissons as they lead us down paths as beguiling as they are unexpected. For me, To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee’s sublime 1960 coming-of-age classic, is a first-class ticket for just such a journey. I first read it when I was 16, over a half century ago, and still remember distinct frissons–exhilarating, amusing, at times deeply disturbing–as I followed the adventures of eight-year-old Scout, her older brother Jem and their father Atticus Finch in Depression-era Alabama. No doubt there was special resonance because I was also growing up in the segregated South, well aware of...
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