ready?
sal's snoballs was soo the place to be tonight. mom and i walked over - praying that they had semi-normal hours and that they were open past 8pm (it was about 9pm). i could've hugged the girl that made my cherry snoball (with vanilla ice cream on top). i think they got new logs to sit on, but i'm not completely sure. the place was hoppin' though - half of metairie, at least. it was a great comfort. all for a total of $1.10.
the other night, we pulled out my grandmother's address book. i jokingly said "oh i bet uncle johnny's cell phone number is in there." well of course it was, so my mom called. got a voicemail, left one, and as of tonight, still hadn't gotten a call back. eh, at least she tried. we laughed at the notes my grandmother had made in there. or who was privileged enough to be in there. she had haydel's bakery right on top of the "H" section. while i'm laughing at this, mom explains that it was because every year, meme would send my mom's best friend from college a king cake on january 6th in virginia. doesn't surprise me too much - meme was that type of person.
sidebar about my grandmother. a mini-tribute, if you will. because if we're talking about new orleans, it's hard not to think about meme. born and raised here. 2331 st. claude ave. - on the edge of the 9th ward. retired social worker. a democrat who loved FDR and the kennedys, and still managed to get along extremely well with my father. she was a very devout catholic. i was her favorite grandchild. (even though i'm sure she told the other 6 the same thing) she would get a king cake on january 6th, and let me believe that it was for my half-birthday. she could predict who was going to be queen of carnival, just by following the debutantes in the living section. she wore charlie perfume. she always had the best family gossip. she was like olympia dukakis in steel magnolias: "if you've got nothing nice to say, come sit next to me" - nothing mean spirited, of course, but juicy enough. she would sit in the same barchair every time she came over, and it was never too early for my dad to make her an old fashion. and she cooked. if i try really hard i can still smell her kitchen. the wonder was that she didn't have a working oven - so whatever she made came from her stovetop or her microwave. no one knows how she did it, and it will continue to remain one of life's mysteries. at her funeral, the priest (a good family friend) was inspired by the benny grunch song "aint there no more" while writing his homily. it was brilliantly done. i might have actually snorted in the middle of the homily. because like k&b and schwegman's and her casseroles and anchovie-stuffed olives - meme simply "aint there no more" (only slightly inappropriate - but, hey, that's how we are)
when we were going through her address book, we tried calling some of the characters in there. the old gay couple that would take her out to dinner after my grandfather passed away. neighbors in gentilly. the only ones we could get in touch with were two sisters who still live in the house next to the house my grandmother grew up in on st. claude ave. (of COURSE they would still be in her address book) both houses were fine throughout the storm and afterwards. but it's in an area that's in the midst of ruin. the house was built over a century ago and it's still standing. unbelievable.
after we got off the phone with the sisters, we talked a lot about my mom's family roots here. peter everett - "the patriarch" i suppose, my great-great grandfather - was actually MARRIED in st. patrick's. i had no idea. so its pretty cool that the family really started there, at that marriage, and that we 4 gretchen kids were baptized there. i see a full circle, eh?
today, i got to talk to mb as she was commuting back to baton rouge. very much needed. it was the first time i got to talk to her since before we all scattered. you know how i am - i think about things too much usually, and i also have never stayed in one place for very long. but when mb said "good. you're staying here," it was like a splash of water and i thought, "yes! i want to stay here, i SHOULD STAY." thanks, mb, that's what i needed to hear, i think.
the other night, we pulled out my grandmother's address book. i jokingly said "oh i bet uncle johnny's cell phone number is in there." well of course it was, so my mom called. got a voicemail, left one, and as of tonight, still hadn't gotten a call back. eh, at least she tried. we laughed at the notes my grandmother had made in there. or who was privileged enough to be in there. she had haydel's bakery right on top of the "H" section. while i'm laughing at this, mom explains that it was because every year, meme would send my mom's best friend from college a king cake on january 6th in virginia. doesn't surprise me too much - meme was that type of person.
sidebar about my grandmother. a mini-tribute, if you will. because if we're talking about new orleans, it's hard not to think about meme. born and raised here. 2331 st. claude ave. - on the edge of the 9th ward. retired social worker. a democrat who loved FDR and the kennedys, and still managed to get along extremely well with my father. she was a very devout catholic. i was her favorite grandchild. (even though i'm sure she told the other 6 the same thing) she would get a king cake on january 6th, and let me believe that it was for my half-birthday. she could predict who was going to be queen of carnival, just by following the debutantes in the living section. she wore charlie perfume. she always had the best family gossip. she was like olympia dukakis in steel magnolias: "if you've got nothing nice to say, come sit next to me" - nothing mean spirited, of course, but juicy enough. she would sit in the same barchair every time she came over, and it was never too early for my dad to make her an old fashion. and she cooked. if i try really hard i can still smell her kitchen. the wonder was that she didn't have a working oven - so whatever she made came from her stovetop or her microwave. no one knows how she did it, and it will continue to remain one of life's mysteries. at her funeral, the priest (a good family friend) was inspired by the benny grunch song "aint there no more" while writing his homily. it was brilliantly done. i might have actually snorted in the middle of the homily. because like k&b and schwegman's and her casseroles and anchovie-stuffed olives - meme simply "aint there no more" (only slightly inappropriate - but, hey, that's how we are)
when we were going through her address book, we tried calling some of the characters in there. the old gay couple that would take her out to dinner after my grandfather passed away. neighbors in gentilly. the only ones we could get in touch with were two sisters who still live in the house next to the house my grandmother grew up in on st. claude ave. (of COURSE they would still be in her address book) both houses were fine throughout the storm and afterwards. but it's in an area that's in the midst of ruin. the house was built over a century ago and it's still standing. unbelievable.
after we got off the phone with the sisters, we talked a lot about my mom's family roots here. peter everett - "the patriarch" i suppose, my great-great grandfather - was actually MARRIED in st. patrick's. i had no idea. so its pretty cool that the family really started there, at that marriage, and that we 4 gretchen kids were baptized there. i see a full circle, eh?
today, i got to talk to mb as she was commuting back to baton rouge. very much needed. it was the first time i got to talk to her since before we all scattered. you know how i am - i think about things too much usually, and i also have never stayed in one place for very long. but when mb said "good. you're staying here," it was like a splash of water and i thought, "yes! i want to stay here, i SHOULD STAY." thanks, mb, that's what i needed to hear, i think.
posted by Catherine at 1:45 AM
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