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Cemetery in Snow December 11, 2008

Posted by The Typist in New Orleans, NOLA, poem, Poetry, Toulouse Street.
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New Orleans snow turns
old tombs white again. Later
rain repaints them gray

I spent yesterday in the chill drizzle photographing 231 tombs to collect names for a statistics project for my daughter. I wish I had been there when it snowed instead of trapped high up in the beige boxes of Place Sans Charm. The counting house gods also do not approve of posting to Poems Before Breakfast on company time, so this will go here.

Until this morning I didn’t know much of the history of St. Louis No. 3, except that it was built as a yellow fever cemetery. You can find a number of burials from 1878, presumably from the yellow fever epidemic of that year, along with quite a few from 1897 and 1905 when the fever also swept through the city

Google later confirmed that, yes, it is those Tujague’s and Galatoire’s who are buried at there, along with the members of many religious orders. There are the tombs of the Little Sisters of the Poor (who once begged door-to-door barefoot in New Orleans) and and the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart, an order founded by St. Francis Cabrini.

Visited St. Leo’s masoleum but forgot to bring a cigar. Sorry, big guy.

Sneaux December 11, 2008

Posted by The Typist in 504, New Orleans, NOLA.
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It’s snowing. In New Orleans. And it is starting to stick to cars and roofs and by one report to the grass Uptown.

I tried to steal the Times-Picayune’s picture but the damned Counting House firewall won’t let me complete “insert into post”. Scrooges. At least they let me put another lump of coal in the grate.

It was snowing about this heavily (and wetly; the roads were attrocious) on the Friday evening in Februray ’06 when the kids and I left Fargo to bring my wife’s car to New Orleans. How convenient that the Ben Franklin High School entrance exam right after Mardi Gras, so we spent that week here.

I will no longer kid the Mrs. about still having a scraper in her car from it’s days in Fargo, N.D. You never know when you may need one.