It's All About The Beads!
Opinion column: The opinions expressed by the author do not necessarily reflect the opinions and viewpoints of The Examiner.
At this writing, I have just returned from my annual journey to south Louisiana to take in the sights, sounds, and tastes of Mardi Gras. Growing up as a “Yankee” (someone who lives north of I-10) I didn’t have the opportunity to attend such festivities until I was in college and I had the need to roam. All I knew then was that the parades were laden with raucous celebration and revelry – which was right up my alley at that time in my life.
Though Mardi Gras occurs right before Lent and is generally considered to stem from Christian tradition, it actually goes back farther than that and is believed to have been inspired by Pagan celebrations of spring and fertility that later became adopted by Christian leaders in Rome. Kind of like Christmas, I believe. Incidentally, the colors of Mardi Gras are also quite traditional; green represents faith, purple signifies justice, and gold denotes power. French explorers brought the festivities with them to Louisiana in 1699 and Mardi Gras became a full-on party and legal holiday by the 19th century.
Today, Mardi Gras parades are held all over south Louisiana and in some parts of south Texas, Alabama, and Mississippi, but the largest and most spectacular parades can only be experienced in New Orleans. That’s where I was first drawn in by the pageantry, the opulence, and the overwhelming joy of pure merriment that, when mixed together, produce an overwhelming gumbo for the senses. First, there’s the food – Cajun food is most certainly my top choice of cuisine and I always stick to my three main food groups of Mardi
Gras: King Cake, Crawfish, and whatever my Mother-In-Law is cooking. I have never left her place hungry, and I never will. Next, it’s the parades themselves where I can feel like a king.
Once the parade starts and the bands are playing, my heart starts to race a bit with all the excitement and as the floats full of merrymakers approaches, I get as close as I can in hope of catching some beads. The beads that are tossed out started out as a tradition in the late 1800s when a carnival king handed out fake gems and jewelry to his “subjects” which were made of glass. Now they’re all cheap plastic, but I don’t care. All I want is beads, and the bigger the better! I can’t help but feel a sort of envy when I see someone’s necklaces that are larger or longer than mine and I think it must be a sort of “bead lust” that keeps me in constant search of the next set of temporary riches. There’s also something a bit magical about having the beads tossed my way. For a moment, while the beads are in the air, time slows down and then… “Clink!” I caught it! I’m rich! I’m rich! And this goes on throughout the night. After a while, though, the long lengths of lavish trinkets looped around my neck start to weigh me down a bit and I have to decide which ones I am going to wear and which ones I am going to store temporarily in my bead bag. This year I came home with what has to be at least 50 pounds of those treasures.
So, what do I do with all those strands of jewels? I keep only the really good ones and my hope is that I can recycle them someday if I get invited to be in a parade. Then I can return the favor, if you will – complete the circle to the next set of outstretched hands seeking a chance to be a little bit richer, even if it’s just for a fleeting moment. Laissez le bon temps rouler!
Alan Shoalmire is a resident in Grimes County and the owner of Grill Sergeant Hotdogs and submits a column to the Navasota Examiner every other week.