Anytime I get homesick for the old time days and feel the need to reconnect with my city, I know its time to hop in the car and head out to City Park. Anticipating the God-awful humidity that awaits us this time of year, we are armed with cutie oranges, wet wipes, hats and containers of cold water. Duran Duran is playing on the radio and we snake along Metairie Road, where a train has a line of cars stopped and waiting impatiently to proceed onward. The sun beats down, painting the dashboard and the back of Nate's curly head, and my hand on the steering wheel. Finally we are moving again, watching the scenery flashing by. We head past the cemetery on the left, before the arrival of the interstate. I find myself imagining a conversation that never happened with my Nana, before she passed, as the headstones gently blurred on the edges of my peripheral. "Are you scared (of the afterlife)?" she asks me. I look at her and nod with trepidation, saying "Oh yeah." She looks at me and a smile lights her face, part smirk and part mischief, sexy on a young woman and endearing on an old one. She tells me, "I don't blame you, I was too. But don't be. You'll see." Then a well-remembered hug from this short and beautiful lady who I miss and remember every day. Conversations like this pop up in my head all the time. Its exactly the way Jim Morrison was quoted as saying, "Its like I was sitting back and taking notes to an amazing rock concert in my head." When I write my poetry, or snippets of thought, or take note of imaginary conversations, its like tuning in to a radio frequency that nobody else is aware of or can hear. Its a privilege. The next imaginary journey, after parting ways with my Nana, was to my Paw Paw. I remember his curly silver-threaded hair, his pleasure at seeing us all sitting at the table having coffeetime (hot tea for me and coffee for the adults), the way he would walk around the table and lay a hand on each of our heads, bestowing kisses and chuckling at the way Nana would bat his hand away and Mom would fuss at him saying, "Daddy, my hair! You're messing it up." Then giving in and leaning up for a hug from him. Family at the table made Paw Paw happy. He could be a tough old man, bossy and domineering (very much as his namesake Dominick), but the love was always and forever there.
Almost to City Park, we stop at the intersection where the infamous Beauregard statue stands guard, high on his horse, proud and maligned. Then the turn into the long drive where NOMA resides. Parking is at a premium on this free admission Wednesday, so we drive in circles before finding a spot. This mom is smart enough to know that her toddler is a scamp who needs constant supervision, so the stroller comes with us on our museum adventure. It also doubles as storage for those cold drinks and fruit snacks we've brought along. Nate seems mellowed out and cool with being seated and pushed along for the ride, so off we go. One of the featured exhibits this time around was...of all people....Bob Dylan. Its amazing when people can "cross over" into different fields of art. His music and lyrics always appealed, and it was fun to go in and see the paintings he created, all of them located here in Nola.
Nate and I strolled around in the cool, calming atmosphere of the museum, taking in all the different styles and techniques of art, and reading the plaques next to each one. The one thing I always take from our NOMA experiences is the way that people have always felt a need to express an emotion and to be creative. Its the one constant in a world that has been, and always will be, changing. Looking at the brushstrokes and the stories behind the works depicting everyday life, long ago and today, connects everyone. We are all filled to the brim with ideas, knowledge, emotions and needs. When we unleash them and create something out of the chaos of feelings and ideas, it is art and it lasts forever. It inspires and it attaches us as a people, not just separate beings wandering lost and alone in this crazy world.
The museum is good about allowing its patrons to take pictures, at least most of the time. To mark the adventures Nate and I have, I borrow his little gray and blue striped fedora and work it into whatever photos we take. This time, I placed it on the bust of one of the great thinkers...I can't recall the name because foot traffic was extremely busy and I was attempting to be quick. On went the hat on the scowling and serious face, and I parked Nate's stroller next to it and snapped a rapid couple of shots of them together. I also try to work Mr. Monkey, Nate's best friend ever, into the art. This is a shot of what I came up with:
Once Nate is older, I'm going to make copies of all the photos of Mr. Monkey and the hat, and make a photo album for my little man. He'll enjoy looking back on all the adventures we had. And I'll make a copy for myself because I'm sentimental and will enjoy the trip down memory lane.
Nate tolerates Mommy's playful stunts, and we roam around a bit more before stopping to say hello to Miss Sandra, one of the ladies who volunteers at NOMA, and then leave. Our next stop is the Sculpture Garden. The moment we leave the building and head outside, wowza! the humidity hits. Its definitely unofficially summer in Nola, despite the fact that summer solstice is still a couple of weeks away. We were lucky to escape the humidity noose in May, when temps were down and things were milder than normal. But now its back. I try to concentrate on enjoying the fact its a sunny day with not a cloud in the sky. When we get to the garden, I unleash Nate from his stroller, and he rapidly vacates the area, running ahead and giggling. I attempt to rein him in but after a few moments of real fear as he raced towards the lagoon, I had to pop him back into his captivity in order to gain some semblance of control. We wandered past the giant safety pin; past the group of sculpture men "el nudo" watching from the central lawn; past towering oaks laden with moss as threadbare as old lace; and along a path that was speckled with shadows and streams of bright sunlight. Our stopping point was the set of benches facing the water, with the statues of men and women sitting down and gazing out at the lake. By this time, we are both soaked to the skin. Nate's hat is damp, and mine is completely gone- I lost it between the museum and the garden. So now without the beribboned straw hat, my hair is wet and clinging to the back of my neck. I've lost all fashion in our journey, and it is still early in the day. Nate's collar is damp, his curls are plastered to his skull and the color is high on his little cheeks. Thankfully shade is awaiting us, and I let him out again to hang out and visit with the statue guys. It isn't long before my little elf is running away once again, and hiding into the bushes. Panicked thoughts of snakes and spiders run rampant in my feverish brain and I dive in to pull him out and...once again... back into the stroller. We go back to the statues. After snapping a few pictures, it is time to go. Nate has dumped the contents of his sippy cup all over the stroller and himself and decides to splash it with tired giddiness. Thankfully its only water so it will hopefully help cool him. I'm finishing my water too, and seeing people circle nearby, clearly waiting for their turn to take pictures with the ever-popular bench statues. We head back to the car to pack it up and head out. While in the process, we hear a familiar toot- the kids' train is on the way! I ask Nate if he wants to wait and watch for the train and he agrees readily. After a few moments, the train is in sight. I grab my cell because it has a good zoom feature, and zero in on the colorful blue and red and yellow train snaking down the track. I get a few shots, then stop to wave at the kids and their folks on the trolley. Many of them are smiling and waving back. I keep waving till they are out of sight, then get back to packing the car and getting Nate out of his stroller. I give him one more brief shot at freedom and tell him firmly to stand by the car. He's out of fuel for the usual feistiness, but still has enough in him to defy the Mommy ordinance and stubbornly sit down on the ground, refusing to get up so we can get him in his car seat. Time to be Mean Mommy and make it happen. Once we are all finished, its time to make the brief drive back home, sweaty and tired but the better for our adventures. Back on the fast track to reality after a jaunt with the past.
