Below freezing again today. Warm weather is forecast for later this week and next. Hope blooms in the hearts. We are the undefeated. There is a reason we appear so weathered…it comes from the slings and arrows of everyday life. Rugged is our demeanour. There is a reason the Old Man loves the French Quarter. The love and acceptance of the realm were inspiring. We walked among those who had suffered and persevered. People who had doors shut in their faces and refused admission to the promises of the Constitution. They had found the joy of the journey. The Brass Band played on the corner, and the happy throng danced down Bourbon Street. Joy is better than sorrow. The Journey is with the Angels, and they walk beside us on the rocky trail.

‘You can be yourself in the French Quarter,’ the bartender said. ‘No one cares for your fancy Mask of Identity…they would rather see the real you,’ the Bartender continued. ‘The Masks we wear at Mardi Gras are to entertain the Angels,’ the Bartender commented. ‘They know the real us, and we like to see their faces when we try to disguise who we are,’ the Bartender noted. ‘I wore a rich man’s Mask to cheat the Miser who kicked me out of my home when I was a lad,’ the Bartender laughed. ‘The old Miser put me and mama and my little brother on the street, and we had nothing to eat and nowhere to go,’ the Bartender noted. ‘So at Mardi Gras I wear the Mask of the Richman to show my victory from suffering,’ the Bartender proclaimed. ‘I distribute chocolates to the kiddos wrapped in gold paper, and their eyes light up with joy,’ the Bartender danced first on one foot and then the other.

‘I push Johnny in his little cart while we sing Swing Low Sweet Chariot as the band plays,’ Abigail said. ‘Johnny is crippled and has been so since he was born…he loves to see the happy faces of the Mardi Gras parades and hear their applause as he sings,’ Abagail continued. ‘Kids made fun of his lameness when he was in school until he began to sing…then the Angels joined him, and all who heard fell silent and showed respect,’ Abagail softly said.

‘I saw an amazing sight,’ Chet said. ‘I was on Royal Street, and both sides of the road were lined with Angels applauding the homeless and sick and forgotten of the French Quarter as they passed by with Masks of Joy on their faces,’ Chet wept.