That kind of music just soothes my soul

During my early and mid teens, my dad and sister, along with several other musical friends, formed an ensemble and provided music for weddings around the New Orleans area. Most often hired via word of mouth, the group was not professionally advertised or marketed. Rather, they simply enjoyed singing, playing, and being with one another. This weekend gig certainly wasn't going to generate their future pensions.

As a result, my family spent many Friday and Saturday evenings at wedding ceremonies and receptions. We joined in the dancing, nibbling, cake eating and drinking (those of age, of course). I cherish vivid memories of my dad attempting to teach me how to slow dance, and laughing week after week because I continued to perform horribly. For the record, my sister figured the steps out and was fantastic. Me, not so much. The band would always play Bob Seger's That Old Time Rock and Roll and, having given up on the slow dance lessons, my dad would pull my sister and I out onto the floor. Two stanza's into the song, we'd have the whole ensemble, my mother, and most of the wedding guests dancing along with us.  Laughter and hilarity ensued.

While in New Orleans several weeks ago, Classic Rock commented that he'd love to go hear live Zydeco/ Cajun music.  Given his underage status, taking him to one of the awesome clubs wasn't going to happen.  My mom suggested we all dine at Mulate's - a local restaurant that features live Cajun music and dancing, along with authentic recipes.  We arrived early in order to site right next to the dance floor.  Irish Jig found several children from another large group and they "danced" together joyfully while we waited on food to arrive.  A sweet elderly gentleman, resplendent in his crawfish themed buttondown, would escort the tiny children around the dance floor while patiently giving directions.  When their lap was complete, he presented them with official Mulate's dance cards and crawfish beads.

The Krewe waiting on dinner and enjoying the venue.

(Apologies for the blurry cell phone picture)

Jazz received her very first slow dance lesson from her Papa.

 I admit to watery eyes as I watched my sweet girl experience

a memory I hold so dear.

(Sadly, she shows no more promise at it than her mother)

I'd forgotten my camera and have only a few blurry cell phone pictures of the night.  But I will remember, in my mind's eye, getting my dad to dance again with me, Jazz up and willing to try it, Irish Jig basically running laps around the dance floor, my mom (and her weak knee) dancing with my nephew, my sister and dad making a beautiful couple, and Mr. Neoclassic and I hysterically laughing our way through a slow dance knowing we were awful.

Today's post title from Bob Seger, of course!