Experiencing the Fat Tuesday Mardi Grais parade as it passes under my window. I understand and appreciate its origins and the meaning it holds for many. It’s just hard to embrace it with a backdrop of thudding dance club, rap and crossover (crossing whatever) pop. Not one trumpet. Not one live brass and drum section or men dancing and playing down the street wiping their brows with white handkerchiefs. No beautiful black women dancing to South American or Caribbean beats. It’s just not the same. Shoot!
Don’t get me wrong, I understand the drunken revelry of the celebration. Maybe it’s just me, but when it’s just another excuse to get drunk and profane while celebrating nothing of meaning–not tradition, nor history, or pride in one’s crew, it’s just, well, sad. And that’s not what it’s supposed to be! Right?