N'awlins Po Boy

University of New Orleans ScholarWorks@UNO University of New Orleans Theses and Dissertations Dissertations and Theses Fall 12-17-2011 N'Awlins Po Boy Warren J. Graffeo University of New Orleans, [email protected] Follow this and additional works at: https://scholarworks.uno.edu/td Part of the Creative Writing Commons Recommended Citation Graffeo, Warren J., "N'Awlins Po Boy" (2011). University of New Orleans Theses and Dissertations. 1407. https://scholarworks.uno.edu/td/1407 This Thesis is protected by copyright and/or related rights. It has been brought to you by ScholarWorks@UNO with permission from the rights-holder(s). You are free to use this Thesis in any way that is permitted by the copyright and related rights legislation that applies to your use. For other uses you need to obtain permission from the rights- holder(s) directly, unless additional rights are indicated by a Creative Commons license in the record and/or on the work itself. This Thesis has been accepted for inclusion in University of New Orleans Theses and Dissertations by an authorized administrator of ScholarWorks@UNO. For more information, please contact [email protected]. N’Awlins Po Boy A Thesis Submitted to the Graduate Faculty of the University of New Orleans in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing Fiction by Warren J. Graffeo B.S. Fairleigh Dickinson University 1976 M.A. University of Louisiana Lafayette 2006 December 2011 In the Beginning “Tony! Get your brother.” My head snapped around to see Tony looking around before putting his sandwich on the bench to run after Sal. “Sal, stop. Wait for me.” Sal turned around, giggled, and with his ten yard head start, put his feet in rapid motion. He was headed for Decatur Street, fronting Jackson Square. Tony caught up with him about ten feet from the street. Grabbing Sal by the arm, Tony dragged the squirming, yelling, furious, four year old back to the benches. It wasn’t an easy job as Tony was only two years older and just a few inches taller than our younger brother. Tony forced Sal to sit on the bench next to Li’l Grandma, who was only a few inches taller than the six year old boy next to her, Tony said, “Why am I always the one who has to look after him? Why not Stacy? He’s the oldest.” Grandma said, “You were the closest. Sit down and eat your sandwich.” I handed Tony a fresh sandwich. I unwrapped my own bologna sandwich and sat the paper on my lap. A sudden burst of morning breeze caught the wrapper and blew it onto the grass. I set my sandwich down, got up, dodged around the shopping bags at my feet, and retrieved it. Grandma cast a stern look in my direction. I mumbled, “Sorry, it got away.” Sal said, “I want.” He pointed to the street where a cart was drawn by a single mule. It was the Roman Candy taffy wagon rolling slowly along the street with its bell clanging a call to kids. The taffy making machine could be seen inside turning and pulling fresh taffy. Sal was drawn to anything bright, and the candy wagon with its bright white paint and blazing red lettering was eye catching. 1 Grandma said, “No. You can’t have candy this early. Too much candy is not good for you.” Sal didn’t say anything, but I could see his eyes brightening with the beginning of tears. Grandma said, “Don’t you dare cry. You can’t have everything just because you want it.” I was beginning to feel hunger pangs, no doubt triggered by the smell of fresh beignets and hot café au lait carried on the morning breeze and coming from the Café du Monde coffee shop a few yards away from where we sat on park benches between Decatur Street and the Mississippi River levee. I ate my sandwich and Grandma poured a small cup of iced tea from one of two thermos bottles she carried along with our sandwiches, napkins, aspirin, and Band-Aids in a large burlap bag. Sal was fascinated by the hustle of automobiles, trucks, horse and mule drawn wagons, and the steady stream of people rushing by. Across the street, artists were setting up easels and hanging portraits and other samples of their work on the fence surrounding Jackson Square. Although it was early, some tourists were already congregating in the Café du Monde, examining the paintings, talking to the artists, and strolling around the square. Along with my three brothers, Tony, Angelo, and Sal, I was enjoying a first-time all family visit to the French Market. Although it was not all that unusual for either Tony, me, or both of us to go shopping in the market with Mother or Grandma, we had never gone as a family. At seven years old, I was considered old enough to go shopping and take care of my younger brothers. Tony was six, Angelo five, and Sal had just made four. It was Sal’s first time going into town and he wiggled and fidgeted constantly, waiting for a chance to get loose and close to all the bright colors and motion just feet from where we sat on the benches. 2 Grandma stood up and said, “Stacy, take those bags and lets go find your mother.” She came over to where I was sitting and, as I stood, I noticed Li’l Grandma stood only a few inches taller than me, and looked even smaller in her ankle to neck dress. I was big for my age at four feet four inches. Big Grandma was much taller standing nearly six feet. Mother was taller than Li’l Grandma, but shorter than Big Grandma. Tony, Angelo, and Sal were about the same size as other kids their age. I resembled my father in that I had darker skin, black hair, brown eyes, and an overall look that stamped me as Sicilian. Except for having green eyes, Angelo shared these features but Tony’s hair was nearly blond, his complexion was very light, and his blue eyes were more appropriate to a north European. Sal was somewhere in between with brown hair, blue eyes, and light complexion. I guess Tony and Sal more closely resembled our grandparents than either our father or mother. “The rest of you clean up those wrappings and put them in the little bag.” Tony and Angelo collected the debris from our small meal and Tony took the little bag to a trash barrel a few yards from where we had eaten. We walked in train with Grandma up front followed by Tony holding one of Angelo’s hands and Angelo holding Sal’s hand. I followed in the rear. We wore our school clothes, but I noticed that most of the people we saw were dressed either in work clothes or, in the case of tourists, what in my family would have been Sunday clothes. Locals who worked in the Market went about their chores quietly and moved at a deliberate pace. The tourists seemed to flutter all over the place. Locals carefully examined lettuce, cabbage, potatoes, tomatoes, watermelons and other vegetables, selecting those they thought best for the money. Late arriving merchants filled trucks and horse drawn wagons with produce to sell in the streets or deliver to restaurants and small grocers. 3 We walked past the first of the two market buildings where souvenir sellers hawked their wares. Voodoo dolls, love potions and charms were sold next door to spice shops. We found Mother at one of the fish stands at the lower end of the building. She was talking to our Great- uncle Don, who sold his fish there. Mother had already picked out the fish she wanted, and one of the boys, probably one of my cousins, was wrapping several fish in newspaper for her. Not for the first time, I noticed how all the men who passed smiled when they looked at Mother. Several of the other merchants stopped near Uncle Don’s booth and just watched. Mother did look nice in her knee length skirt and striped blouse, but I was accustomed to seeing men smile at Mother that way. One of the men said something to Mother. She just smiled and looked away. Uncle Don said, “Hey, that’s my niece and besides she’s married and got four kids.” The man said, “No mother has a right to look that good.” Mother said, “Thank you, but I don’t need compliments from men who smell of fish in the morning.” Uncle Don laughed and then greeted us. “Hi sis, hi boys. Good lord, the way you guys are growing, you’ll be helping out in the Market soon.” I replied, “Hi, Uncle Don.” Somehow, I didn’t see being a fish handler in my future. Tony said, “Hi Uncle Don. I’m going to work with race cars.” “Well, you never know. Remember, you can always come see me if you want to work.” Grandma said, “I want more for these boys than working in a fish market, and so does their mother.” Mother said, “Thanks Uncle Don, but I want my boys to go to college and make something of their lives.” 4 Don looked dubious. “College? Got to be smart to go to college, and how could you afford it? Besides all that, ain’t never been anyone in this family ever gone to college.” “Then I’ll be the first.” I said.

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