The Boeuf Gras is a bit concerned

I worked today, the Tuesday of all Tuesdays.  I haven't worked a Mardi Gras in years and years. So it was with a very heavy heart that I took the back roads to work, and pulled into my parking garage.  But not before I saw a glimpse of St. Charles Avenue, which becomes alive with the energy of all that are standing, sitting, dancing, catching, throwing, drinking, laughing, sharing, and being New Orleanians.  Luckily for me, the weekend before Mardi Gras can be just as exciting as the main event, and I was able to celebrate the big weekend with friends and family. 

This year was a bit different for me, being as I shared my Mardi Gras experience with my almost three-year-old.  The rapture that usually comes from having a care free day/night/weekend of watching parades was replaced with the joy of seeing my boy wave his arms excitedly, shouting "row me ssssthing mister"  (No, he hasn't quite mastered talking yet).  I was also aware of the panic that threatened to overtake me as a pack of beads sailed a little too close to his head, or when the ladder got a little too shaky, or when I realized that my baby is a faster runner than I thought possible.  So, while I had an eyeful of the awesome artistry of floats, I also had an eye on the would-be kidnappers.  And just when you say, sheesh lady, stop being so paranoid...or stop worrying for no reason....The Idiots of our dear, dear city show up and make you realize that there is reason to worry.  And maybe even to panic.  7 people were wounded by gunfire today on the parade route.  I saw one of the victims that came to our ER and luckily he didn't even have to be admitted.  The others were taken to University Hospital.  I pray they fare well.  NOPD evidently caught the two suspects: young, black males.  

I don't know how to fix this. I'm sure having some sort of license to procreate would help, but barring that, it seems next to impossible to change the tide that this city is being overwhelmed with.   But I know it IS possible.  These kids, this huge population of boys from twelve to twenty-something, have gotten screwed.  And because of that, for the most part, they are killing each other, killing themselves, killing our city.   Why hasn't someone showed them the basic building block of a decent human being? You know, the one that makes you think that shooting someone with a gun ISN'T a good idea? 

Parents, where are you?  

Family, where are you? 

Religion, where are you?

God, where are you....

Oh wait, it's Ash Wednesday.  He's laboring in the desert in preparation to be crucified.

Guess they didn't have guns back then?

So I ponder, but not really put anything into action.  Like so many.   

I see an average of twenty patients a day.  I treat all of them with kindness and respect, and I know it's the first time many of them have been treated that way in a long, long time.  I know I make a difference in some of their lives, and I use that thread of gratification to quell my guilt of not doing more to fix my city.  So I clamber to find good news to post to Lips Upwards.  I clamber to stay positive in the wake of so many negatives.  I clamber to cling to the childish philosophy "It'll be o.k."   I clamber to get the feelings that we experience during the seasons of happiness in New Orleans: Summertime crawfish boils, Fall festivals, Christmas celebrations, and Mardi Gras pageantry.   And it works.  It keeps me loving my city, my home.

I won't be working next year on Fat Tuesday.  

I'll be parading.  With my paranoid eyes wide, wide open.