March 2025 SOLC–Day 2
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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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