Wednesday, December 06, 2006
The Saints Go Marching In.
I had planned a post prior to the Saints game, unfortunately I was not able to be in that number. I will probably post it before the next home game.
Last Thursday while I was in Atlanta I got a call from my sister. My Dad had been taken to the hospital. I started figuring out how to get from Atlanta to East Texas. I was a little disappointed to be missing the Saints game.
Whenever I think of the Saints, both the song and the team I usually think of the my Dad. My Dad came late to New Orleans. He moved here in 1965 to help build the Union Carbide plant in Taft. I was just starting high school. We got here just in time for Hurricane Betsy. Almost all of our furniture was destroyed when the storage warehouse flooded. Welcome to the coast.
My first Saints game was the very first Saints game. We attended almost all of the home games while I lived in New Orleans. I spent many Sunday afternoons in the end zone of old Tulane Stadium with my brother and my Dad. When I left for college I continued to follow the Saints. Going to LSU I came home frequently and still attended many games, until the rest of the family moved to Puerto Rico the next year. After I graduated we moved away for a while but I still followed the Saints, of course She is a much bigger fan than I am. When we moved back to New Orleans for good a few years later She and I started going to the games again this time with her father. He was another "plank owner" having held his tickets since the beginning. We eventually took over two of his seats.
Before I could finish my travel arrangements, my sister called back. My Dad was gone. Suddenly, unexpectedly.
When he lived here my Dad loved to go to Preservation Hall. He loved tradition, all sorts of traditions. He recognized the value of them. He also recognized the value of passing tradition to the next generation. He often took families with children to Preservation Hall early in the evening to sit on the floor and listen to the music.
The family gathered from around the country. Lately we only seem to gather at times like this. What started as a sad occasion became a remembrance of a life well lived, a man and his family.
We played the Saints at the end of his service.