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Just another day in the life of a NOLA Street Preformer

I had a full evening in the French Quarter’s last weekend, and I will blog about my experience in a separate blog. In searching for a photo, I was surprised to find that I have 60K+ images since 2011 of all things New Orleans as well as my many vacations, not saying I’m going to go through all those photos, but I can not blog about them all. I was delighted to announce that I have been able to document so many great moments. In saying that I hope you do not mind me just posting photos without blogging from time to time. I’m not sure if I can not write a lil something lol, but thank you in advance only in case I don’t write anything.

As you can see these pics and video are taken of our New Orleans Street Performers on Bourbon St. The will work for for the crowd primarily on the weekends or when there’s a big event going on in the city. If you are a native of New Orleans, you will remember these guys from the Jackson Square Steps where the crowd would sit on the steps as if they were in the stands and the pavement was their stage. It’s lovely to see that they all are doing well and survived Katrina.

I recently swayed my views when seeing my little Nola babies drumming their hearts out on buckets for chump change. I would be in tears walking off worrying about someone taking off with their money, concerned about their home life and how safe are they out amongst all the drunkards on Bourbon St… I had the opportunity to talk to one of the little boys, and he told me that he loved to do it, it was a hobby that he could make money from that could afford him to buy things his family could not afford. He did report that some kids have it harder than him and that he wished people would stop looking at them, listen to their sound, and just walk off. He broke it down, sounding like little businessmen. They are, in essence, entrepreneurs. I still worry, but I pray about them, and a lil voice told me there has never been an incident involving the child street Performers on Bourbon St. and that helped a lot.

Please tip our street Performers, especially if you stop, listen, and take pictures or record them. If by chance your photo wins some prize or you get paid from it, do your best to give them their half. You would not have that great shot without your subject. Your eye sees the shot, and the subject makes it.

The average tip is $2-$5 per performer, be mindful when tipping a group or band. How would a band of 6 splits that $1 you dropped in their bucket? Idk, but be fair, you are being entertained by New Orleans natives who are continuing the tradition, keeping the culture alive, which happens to be the very reason why you come here. They would benefit greatly from your generosity.

https://nolachic.blog/20180601_200301-mp4/

A native of New Orleans, who left her beloved New Orleans to spend twenty years of living in the land of Minnesota Not So Nice. Minnesota was full of opportunities but would learn that the soul of the state and the people who made it was just as icy cold as the temperatures. After the years and my 40th birthday flew by, I decided it was time to pack up my youngest child and come back to my roots, my birthplace the city that not only birthed me but gave me life. I would not be who I am without my New Orleans beginnings. I am all things that would challenge the belief of growing up in New Orleans. I was a 16yr old teen mother of a premature baby born with a severe medical disability. And only With the help of my mother, was it possible for me to BE! I was able to endure and survive the obstacles laid before my child and me. In a city that was built by my family, but did not allow for us to reap the benefits I overcame. Charity Hospital was my second home — a building filled with miracle workers who made it possible for my daughter to have life. I have lived a life of rainy days with peeks of sunshine, that are my children, including those not of my womb. I'm the proud mother of three and a grandmother of three. My dream was to live the life of the nursery rhyme of ”The Old Lady Who lived in a shoe,” and for the most part, I did. I cared for several children over the years as a special needs foster parent. I would learn that my love was not enough for some children, but I loved them through their pain. I'm not sure if I ever had a case of true love or came close to what love looks like on television, but I had my share of men and the mirage of love. I survived two abusive marriages. Though I longed to return to New Orleans on a daily bases, I must admit my move was one of the best decisions made for me. I am a college graduate; I was a successful entrepreneur. I coowned a soul food restaurant and catering company in Minnesota for 12 years. I developed the talent of creating custom cakes after the murder of my beloved cousin Melvin Paul. He survived Katrina only to go to Minneapolis six months later to be murdered over a parking spot dispute. But with the challenge of creating a simple wedding cake, I was able to find healing. I created the House of Cakes in honor of him. Minnesota life had me pretty materialistic. I worked to the point I do not remember much, but work and handing my children love money. I thought by having the big house on the hill, a husband, having a family, the ultimate provider and being involved in all things that matter, plus having the funds to match would cure me of what I was told was a generational curse of lack of everything from money, love to even self-love. But for the most part, that life poisoned my heart and soul. I was blinded by visions fed to me by the media. I was told I wasn't anything unless I was better than the Jones's. I lived being ok with a broken, bleeding heart. Life like this did not exist in my family while living in New Orleans from what I viewed with my eyes and soul. We may not have had all the things I acquired over the years, but we were happy, we were together. Family outside of New Orleans wasn't family anymore. We lived separate lives and had awkward moments when we bumped into each other in public. I hated living in Minnesota even though life their helped me in so many ways. I felt deep down the only way to repair it was to get back to my roots, my soul, my home, myself, my New Orleans. I'm here, and I love it. Even being in the so-called Blighted Area of New Orleans and not having all the financial and material security, I'm happy. I am determined that She, yes, New Orleans is a woman is just like me; together, we will overcome and will rise from all that tried to kill our spirit. Nothing like starting from the bottom and making your way back up!. I just know in my heart that New Orleans will provide for me. There's a bank account with funds in it owed to me by way of back pay for my ancestors. And I will receive my inheritance, and I will continue the traditions and customs of the old to keep the heartbeat of New Orleans beating. I'm down in the boot, living the life that feels right to me awaiting my destiny...

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