November The First

by Bert Bartlett

Sure, we love the Saints, even when they don’t win. Always have. Often, we pray that they do, attributing that fleur-de-lis on their helmets to a much Higher Power. Faith can reign universal, and eternal. We are prone to think and worry about them all week long. We watch TV about them, we read all about them, and we talk to (and argue) with anyone imaginable about them, in any locale, forum, or media, in dialects and slang unique to us. We spend not insignificant amounts of money on them. Many wear clothes and regalia about them, which can get pleasurably gaudy and outlandish. Some of us can get sad (or happy) enough to cry about them, and plenty of us can get mad at them too, particularly if they lose mostly due to their own mistakes, often holding them to higher standards than ourselves. But we tend to forgive them, rather quickly, and help them if we feel they need it. We can think we know what’s best for them, have not so subtle opinions on what they should do, and that they represent more than whom they actually may be. We have a reputation of being generally hospitable to visiting opponents. We can be guilty of bragging about them too much, and living vicariously through them, knowingly tip-toeing out of bounds between the lines of just a game and real life. A few of us can’t even bear to watch them, though no less interested in the outcome. With them, we believe most anything is possible. Yet somehow we take it all in, and run with it, again and again. They long ago become synonymous with this place called New Orleans, Louisiana. They are not America’s Team, but we are citizens of a formidable Nation, global in scope. The Vatican knows when they play. We like Black, Gold, and White, in any combination. We love all kinds of music about them, and some of us haven’t forgotten a 1969 movie including them (the title of which becoming appropriate only in February of this year). Who ‘Dat Say ‘Dey Gonna’ Beat ‘Dem Saints echoes from the safest part of town. We have been known to laugh about them, make fun of them, and drink (and eat) because of them (occasionally in excess). No, we are not immune from sin, and all in all, we are quite imperfect when it comes to them, too. But make no mistake about it, collectively, we are all, ‘Dem Saints.




This message has been brought to you by the newly published book:

         A Tale Of Two Seasons, Katrina & A Super Bowl   




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