My first knowledge of the great Mississippi came as a child when my father packed us into the family car in succession Sunday nights for the ritual drive down to Canal way This was a big thrill.

My first knowledge of the great Mississippi came as a child when my father packed us into the family car in succession Sunday nights for the ritual drive down to Canal way This was a big thrill, for Canal way was a spectacular delight of decorative lights, dazzling store windows, clan waiting at streetcar and bus stops for rides abroad to their isolated neighborhoods.

Then Dad would head for the lower part of Canal Street, which was the Mississippi River. Here, at the docks, right beside the L&N train station, he would park and we would get by heart out. I always raced to the animation of the dock to stare at the strange, dirty currents of the river, which was wide enough to be a lake. I would expect up - and downriver, to the actual edge of its sharp bends, as if I might fathom the past hidden beyond the crook downriver, the future upriver. To me the river was the oldest living someone in New Orleans. It was the great highway disclosed into the world beyond streetcars; its opening began with the ferry to Algiers. I always wanted to ride that ferry on the contrary we never did. The unimpaired of austere ships' horns was enough to trigger my imaginary trips into the abroad there, for I knew the river in modern Orleans led to anywhere and everywhere.

smooth now in deep dream I am walking always at night, the Canal public way of my childhood, headed for the river and its ferry I conceive it will always be there, completely ridged into the earth of my subconscious, containing hidden understandings of wherever I've been and wherever I might go

My Street

My road in the old black neighborhood called Treme reverberates with music. This is the original land of marching bands, parades, and jazz funerals. I have my confess block band. These kids, aged 9-13 call themselves the Lil Rascals. They parade up and down the highway at all times of the day and night, save when they're in school, blaring gone out quotes from popular marching band harmonious accordances on their trumpets, tubas, trombone and tympanums They're starting out right - not in the rehearsal scope but in the theatre of the highway soaking it up as young sorcerers wielders of magic.

In their minds they will be the dream recently made known Orleans band of all time; we just don't know it now The tiny trumpeter, who considers to be about ten, reaches for the skies with his high notes; he's capable of ripping against a few phrases in mid-block at 10 pm when you think he should be in bed. If thousands don't rush into the road to dance and shout tonight, then someday they will. He's practicing.

Sometimes I spread my door as they pass, and taunt, smiling, "I'll be glad when you kids acquire tuned up. But you hardy better than last year."

greatest in number days after school, they rush athwart to the French Quarter to hustle tourists. single day I asked my favorite little trumpeter his name. My name, he answered, is "Money"

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