CH 11: The Calendar Lagniappe Backstory

This was a difficult chapter to write, both due to the presentation as two parallel journeys, and regarding the subject matter. As usual, the end result is a blend of truth and fiction, and in this case, I’m content to keep you guessing which is which.

Also as usual, I borrowed heavily from my life experience to inform McGhee’s. As it turns out, my brother Jim lived in NOLA for about 5 years and I had a couple chances to visit him there. It’s an interesting city, perched on the edge of perdition such as it is, which I suppose is core to its charms.

If you’ve never been to New Orleans, I highly recommend it, and specifically, to make the pilgrimage to Preservation Hall. It really is exactly as described (at least it remained that way through 1994, my last visit). I couldn’t convince my daughter to try it while she lived there – she disdains “touristy” things – but it was entirely her loss. As for me, I judge things on their particular merits, and in this case, I’ll elbow through a Disneyland queue of snot-nosed touristas for another chance to hear one of the PH bands.

I bought this record when I was 15 after seeing Sweet Emma and her band play at the Hall. I don’t recall the tunes I heard, but the selection in the chapter seemed well suited to situation. I liked the idea of an old woman complaining about inconstant men.

This is what it looks like inside the Hall – it’s much smaller than you’d imagine from the photo. Side to side it might be 15 feet as I recall.

On another note, the Café du Monde is also worth the visit, despite the alarming piles of powdered sugar festooning their beignets. Honestly, it’s more about the experience than the pastry or chicory coffee, but it’s a neat place nonetheless.

Regarding “Lagniappe”, which I’ve had a few questions about:

From my recollection, this term has special meaning in New Orleans, usually equated to the “pillow mint” in a hotel, or some other small gesture. It’s meant to be rather ironic in the context of the story: the alleged extra bit of hospitality is Honey’s suicide calendar. I realize that’s pretty dark, but these things happen. I liked the juxtaposition of McGhee’s coming of age against such despair, and his struggles coping with college as covered in the other thread of the chapter.

My brother Tom (the archetype for Les), who happens to be a doctor, did his residency in Nashville, so it was natural to include that locale in the chapter. It fit geographically and was indeed a stopping point on a drive back from NOLA I did in 1983. At the point I wrote this chapter (which was after Losing Les), I almost had him doing residency (like his roommates), but it would have been hard to reconcile it with his later life as owner of The Pie Tin in Rawlins, WY. I didn’t want such a large mystery in his life, which seemed like it might distract from McGhee’s own journey. McGhee’s journey, being rather nebulous and unfocused, required a relatively stand-alone quality against a somewhat muted backdrop of family. This was one of those storytelling decisions forced by focusing attention on an unfocused subject such as McGhee.

FYI, the wooden Indian mentioned is a reference to an old Hank Williams song, Old Kaliga. When I was a kid I had a semi-broken transitor radio that tuned in stations from very far away. I'm not sure how it did that, but I loved it. I'd hear Russian and French and Spanish stations on a regular basis. One late Christmas eve when I was about 12, I tuned in a Hank Williams marathon and heard this song. I love it to this day! Give it a listen .