March 2025 SOLC–Day 2
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org
We were in New Orleans last week. Our visit, unfortunately, coincided with that of a polar vortex. Even though we live in Maine and are used to the cold, we struggled to get warm. The wind gusted, the air was damp and heavy. We didn’t have enough layers. Still, we managed. More or less. By choice, we spent our days outside, walking the streets and soaking in the NOLA culture.
As we walked and walked, we complained now and again about the unwelcome cold. We also passed so many unhoused people in the streets, huddled against the unexpected and biting cold. We worried and wondered about them. Mostly, they were silent. Sometimes they asked for money. When that happened, we’d try to make eye contact, say, “I’m sorry” and keep on walking by. Guilt lay heavily on my shoulders each time. For not doing anything for them. For being on vacation. For being warm while they suffered from the cold. I compared my good fortune to their situation.
Then one morning, I saw a woman ahead of us on the sidewalk. She was bent over and talking into a sort of teepee of blankets and cardboard erected around someone. Did that person answer? I couldn’t quite hear. After a moment, the woman put something down on the pavement. A hand reached out and raked it in. Was it money? Food? I couldn’t be sure. Then the woman straightened and turned. “Happy Mardi Gras” she called back as she walked away. From the makeshift shelter, the words floated back to her, “Happy Mardi Gras.”
I can’t quite parse it all out yet, but this moment has replayed again and again in my mind. Was this woman a local or a tourist? I had no way of knowing. She was simply a woman who took the time time to stop and connect. She didn’t just give something, but she stopped to talk. I’ve heard her parting words again and again. “Happy Mardi Gras!” and then the disembodied response, “Happy Mardi Gras!”
I’m embarrassed to admit that it would never have occurred to me to say this. My mumbled “I’m sorry’s”, although well-intentioned, simply emphasized the difference between me and the unhoused. This woman’s words underscored their common experience–emphasizing unity rather than separation. Her words were a recognition of kinship–that no matter what else might be true, both of them were in this shared space and time of celebration.
“Happy Mardi Gras.”
So simple. Yet so profound.
.
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Nix the comfort zone 
I love that you saw that moment and became part of the appreciation of it. Sometimes I think just a human connection is all that is necessary to acknowledge others and help them feel seen, as you witnessed and shared in this slice. I’m friends with Margaret, and I enjoyed hearing her stories of visiting Maine with the mail boat ride and the tea they so enjoy now after that visit. And now to read your story here, it shows how the power of writing is one that helps us see the world (geographically and otherwise) in new and unexpected ways. What a great story you shared here today!
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I suspect we all in this community have been in this situation before. It is hard to know what to do, especially when we don’t want the money we give to be used for substances, and we don’t know how someone might react to us. I suspect the woman who spoke to the unhoused person knows them, so the circumstances between you two are different. I also worry that w/ every safety net being destroyed, we’re all gonna need to step up our commitment to giving. Do not despair or second guess your response. This too is a learning opportunity.
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Oof. That last paragraph. Big truths.
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I relate to that feeling more often than not. What a great lesson from her. Thank you for sharing it with us.
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This is bringing tears to my eyes. From anyone else, this post would be so normal. It’s how we live down here. Happy Mardi Gras is said like Merry Christmas. But your dilemma is not normal. We should not think that it is normal, should we? to have the homeless among us. I hope you will write about how you felt when you were given beads. That is such an odd thing about Mardi Gras. We beg for them as if we are subjects to a king. And now? Yikes!
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My reaction is probably more like yours, but what a lesson learned! Even a smile might be more appropriate.
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This is such a vulnerable post, and one in which we can all relate. I have had similar thoughts before, and reacted in a multitude of ways when I’ve been in similar situations. It’s hard to know which one is the ‘right’ one. Thank you for sharing your observations and thoughts. I bet this experience will change you somehow. It probably already has.
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We are on a journey of learning. You’ve learned something important in the Big Easy. Wayne Dyer of the Erroneous Zones from we both were younger said he always gave money to homeless folk. He was there not to judge what they did with it. I like that. Hannah carries water and granola bears in a plastic bag with a $5 bill to give away when she is driving. Our daughter Molly gets two dollar bills from the bank and gives them away. She gave some for us to give away here in Carp. Hannah gave one to someone sweet working at the local Subway. Yours is a thoughtful piece for us all to chew on.
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Molly, it is so difficult to see homeless people standing in open areas waiting for others to give them money. Some are women with babies and that really hurts seeing them in the summers during very hot days. I always feel sad when we pass them by.
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