Tasting the Night
by Jerry W Andrews
Sunday, April 13, 2003
Not rated by the Author.
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New Orleans in the fifties-
The smalltown boy sat in the backseat of the car, in the middle, his arms spread onto the tops of the front seats, behind his mother and father. They were driving through New Orleans one steamy summer night, smelling the "big easy", so full of atmosphere, aroma and sound, life thrown into a visceral melange and scattered to the wind for all to sample and enjoy. "In the Still of the Night" floated silkenly from the radio of the little blue '52 Ford coupe. The boy made doo wop sounds and his father shushed him. Stifled, the boy turned to a possible ally and told his mother, "I never knew you could taste a place, but I can taste this town. It's all in the air. Everything here is in the air".The smell of red beans, rice and smoked sausage, the cajun seasonings: garlic, onion, parsley, po-boy sandwiches(fresh crusty loaves of french bread, loaded with fried shrimp, oysters or roast beef)- food seems to define and identify the city, and the smells enrich the night. From the French Quarter, the sweet lively blend of Dixieland horns and southern jazz add another dimension to the rich ambience of the night. If you don't want to move, deep in your soul, when you hear this music, you can go home- you're dead already. His mother recognized him then, as she told others later- "I know one thing about this boy. He will be a poet or a Philadelphia lawyer. Words matter to him." She was right. She knew what he was because she had seen him taste the night. Only poets taste the night.
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|Reviewed by Theresa Hughes (Reader)
|I wanna go! I'm still hungry.:)|
|Reviewed by Gianetta Ellis
|Great imagery; love "In the Still of the Night."|
|Reviewed by Phyllis Jean Green
|Reviewed by Susannah Carlson
|This piece reminds me of the sweet openness to experience children have, and lose as they grow their adult callouses (well, except poets tend not to callous easily...). Very nice. When my son was about 12 months old, I was driving him home from his father's house, and he said, "Mommy! The moon loves me! Look! It loves me!" Very nice flash piece (although I am not sure about "enrichen" as a word. Enrich would do. Nice work, Jerry!|
|Reviewed by T. Emilie Dybevik (Reader)
|Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm! Man.....I felt like I was there. I yearn for some GUMBO! In a foreign country on vacation.... MAN I miss Velveeta too! LOL... Wonderful job and RIGHT ON THE NOSE descriptions...I YEARNED!
|Reviewed by Your Boss
|You never told me about this one. I might like it best of all. You're a fine fellow. Get well and keep writing.|
|Reviewed by Patricia Boudreau
|Jerry...you conjour up such wonderful images, sights, smells, and yes...even the taste...|
|Reviewed by C. Gourlay
|absolutely beautiful rendering of a moment of revelation. you took me there and for that, i thank you. (btw your comment re the pic was well received and i will be revealing my headshot idc)|
|Reviewed by A PAX
|Reviewed by Button Mitchell
|Yes go big poet!!!
This is a butifull write... This poem has a lot of meaning.
|Reviewed by Glenna Cancilla (Reader)
|This is a wonderful poem Jerry.
Very well written.
I also like the picture as well.
|Reviewed by *********** ********** (Reader)
|I was still to be born! Damn it.....I love the sound of this time Jerry....and through your eyes I see it..Adore that picture!
I too loved that last line. ;)
Excellent writing! Thank you, Dani
|Reviewed by Elizabeth Taylor (Reader)
|My first trip to New Orleans was in the fifties...thanks for the memories. Well done.|
|Reviewed by Katy Walsvik
|Wow! This is a fabulous 'slice of life' and in so few words, I was drawn into that car and into that boys head.. Just great, Jerry. How could any of us resist that last line? Love it! katy.|
|Reviewed by Lady Peg (Reader)
|Oh this is good yes only Poets taste the night.