At the Krewe D’Etat parade I spoke with an English emigre who had come to Tulane as a graduate student and ended up moving to New Orleans. “I basically begged and pleaded and did anything I could to make sure I could stay here, and here I am. Twenty years later.” He was a “sculptor in neon,” as he described himself, and had done much of the lighting for the Hermes parade. “Hermes is really perhaps the most beautiful parade artistically,” he said, “and it doesn’t really get enough credit.” He told me the following story: he was living in a tiny little railroad-car-style house that they call “shotguns” here, supposedly because you can shoot one bullet through every room in the house, and he used to drive a big old Lincoln, and one day he got into the car and turned on the radio. These were the lyrics he heard:
And you may find yourself
Living in a shotgun shack.
And you may find yourself
In another part of the world.
And you may find yourself
Behind the wheel of a large automobile.
He did not mention the beautiful house or beautiful wife, but hopefully he has them by now too, however he defines them.
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