42 / matters magazine / winter 2019 finalmatters T he holiday decora- tions have been packed away. The daily ritual of hunting down lost scarves and gloves is hitting a groove. And we’re deep enough into the calendar that we’re no lon- ger wishing each other a Happy New Year. Yet even though we’re smack dab in the middle of those win- ter doldrums, our house will soon be festooned with a riot of color. Specifically: purple, green, and gold. While our family calls Maplewood home, we are gearing up for a beloved ritual adopted from life down in New Orleans. On March 5, our Jersey digs will welcome the Mardi Gras. Beads will be thrown. King cake will be devoured. And our speakers will pulse as Professor Longhair croons his signature bar- relhouse rhumba, “Go to the Mardi Gras.” Mardi Gras may culminate with “Fat Tuesday,” but this rich time of year is commonly referred to as carnival or parade season. That’s because New Or- leans and its surrounding areas host about 70 parades – with some beginning as early as a month before Mardi Gras day. And in the cold north Jersey climes, I like to think of Mardi Gras as a mid-winter festival that glides us closer to the early hints of spring. Now let’s be honest. My earlier Mardi Gras years included a generous dose of bacchanalian extrava- gance and rather suspect ribald behavior. A whole- some family experience it was not. But that all changed on the day my wife gave birth to our son in 2014. In a splendid coincidence, Jack’s due date was slated for Mardi Gras day. So we decided to come prepared. Nicole and I packed an extra go-bag stuffed with signature purple, green, and gold strands of Mardi Gras beads adorned with king cake babies. Jack was born just hours shy of Mardi Gras, so we refer to him as our Lundi Gras baby. We distributed beads to our doctors, nurses, and other staff through- out the maternity wing. Suffice it to say, Mardi Gras has taken on an even more positive meaning for us. Our new family tradition has caught on like wild- fire. The hundreds of beads we’ve collected over the years are worn by our two kids with great pride. And, much as in New Orleans, the kids scatter their dou- bloons – traditional Mardi Gras coins – throughout the house. And Nicole makes a mean shrimp etouffee. When the kids get older, we’re planning on having those tough his- torical conversations about Mardi Gras. Beyond the parades, music, and food, we’re going to tackle the complicated subjects of racial divide and the painful story of Hurricane Katrina. I’d love to convince our towns to embrace Mardi Gras on a grander scale. Can you picture having the Krewe (a parading social club) of Maplewood and Krewe of South Orange parade throughout the two towns? Now that’s a rivalry we could all get behind. And we certainly have enough talented musicians to create a killer second-linin’ brass band to wake up the neighbors to a winter jubilation. And how about we hire a parade of babysitters so the adults can imbibe just a little? After all, life’s too short to miss out, dawlins. Donny Levit is a writer, journalist, and New Orleans expat. He is the author of Rock n’ Roll Lies, 10 Stories. Follow him on @donnyreports. Laissez les bon temps rouler (à Maplewood)! Taming the winter doldrums, one doubloon at a time BY DONNY LEVIT