BEGIN:VCALENDAR VERSION:2.0 PRODID:-//InvisionCommunity Events 5.0.18//EN METHOD:PUBLISH CALSCALE:GREGORIAN REFRESH-INTERVAL:PT15M X-PUBLISHED-TTL:PT15M X-WR-CALNAME:RMWorkCalendar NAME:RMWorkCalendar BEGIN:VTIMEZONE TZID:Europe/London TZURL:https://tzurl.org/zoneinfo/Europe/London X-LIC-LOCATION:Europe/London BEGIN:DAYLIGHT TZOFFSETFROM:+0000 TZOFFSETTO:+0100 TZNAME:BST DTSTART:20250330T020000Z RRULE:FREQ=YEARLY;BYMONTH=3;BYDAY=-1SU END:DAYLIGHT BEGIN:STANDARD TZOFFSETFROM:+0100 TZOFFSETTO:+0000 TZNAME:GMT DTSTART:20251026T020000Z RRULE:FREQ=YEARLY;BYMONTH=10;BYDAY=-1SU END:STANDARD END:VTIMEZONE BEGIN:VEVENT SUMMARY:Mardi Gras GOOD NEWS CALENDAR DTSTAMP:20250619T115933Z SEQUENCE:0 UID:354-5-c3fe8195a3dde498d013e477e2142422@aalbc.com ORGANIZER;CN="richardmurray":noreply@aalbc.com DESCRIPTION:\n Mardi Gras is 47 days before Easter\, since Easter can be from March 22nd to April 25th \, Mardi Grad can be from February 3rd to M arch 9th. \n\n\n\n \n Mardi Gras is February 25th in the year 2020. I as k you to make a journal of your day in New Orleans during mardi using ph otos from wherever you like to paruse  \n \n\n\n\n \n Story 1 :  ht tps://aalbc.com/tc/blogs/entry/261-eostre-art-or-text-craft-parade-good-ne ws-blog/?do=findComment&\;comment=885  \n \n\n\n\n \n Story 2 : ht tps://aalbc.com/tc/blogs/entry/261-eostre-art-or-text-craft-parade-good-ne ws-blog/?do=findComment&\;comment=886  \n \n\n\n\n  \n\n\n\n STORY 1 \n\n\n\n  \n\n\n\n ba-bedee-debede-doo Bonjou Nouveau Orleans\, I have re turned. The morning is bright or magical\, as I step from the shore into t he city. The sound of horns audible even from this distance. I wonder if a nyone will remember when I was here last. If anyone will remember what I d id. Well\, I have to step forward to find out. Just follow the sounds\, as they get deeper. ba-bedee-debede-doo-boo-badoboop-ba Some people are cele brating\, and I see a krewe coming like a grass from a storm. Suddenly a w oman pops out.\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n She is on a mobile float like a little isl and\, floating between the streets. A lovely glaze from her skin is given no interference from the sunlight\, the latter choosing to shine away rath er than muddy her complexion with its cloudy difference. I am in new orlea ns. I wonder if I can get to the old bar\, I wonder if it will be there. I awe at the spirit bird going away on her magical island\, like all the ot her men\, and as the island turns\, I turn back onto the road north\, to t he Treme\, to the storyville\, to my old grounds.  \n\n I wonder about th e families of my friends and I\, what happened from then to now. Could our stories have ended? I see\, a family dressed up.  \n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n I Wa nt to ask them their names\, one looks familiar\, but I see no men. It is ungentlemanly to speak to women unaccompanied. They may take great offense . so\, I decide to keep it moving\, let’s not get startled.\n\n In my po cket is an old daguerreotype. I take it out and shed a tear.  \n\n\n\n \n \n\n\n Suddenly the beautiful collage of horns is no longer interesting. A ll I can recall are the chants of yore\, when instruments were too expensi ve\, when the priestesses still roamed the noir streets of the city. Gens de magique femme . I am amazed it survived the passage through time but I hope it will not be a memory discontinued.  \n\n It takes hours to get ba ck to my home\, ici le tempeste\, no longer here\, nowhere\, I remember wh en a storm passed through the city. Everyone’s shanty was destroyed but mine\, mine remained\, mine survived the storm. But that is cause it was a storm itself\, shaking uncontrollably absent proper supports\, leaking wi ldly absent a proper roof\, a collisions of sounds\, made it an orchestra for any who lived in it for any time. It taught me more than any human eve r could about sound. I see this small storefront where its porch stood and go to it. The cover over the window has a small gap and i see a woman dan cing inside.\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n An angel\, like the one on the floating isla nd before\, but this one is in a room of cotton\, gently cushioning her ev ery move. Her face… her face look like my fofo\,  I love her most of al l. I wish the ancestors allowed me to take her too. I need to speak to thi s woman. I go inside\, the woman pays me no mind\, entranced in her own ro utine. I ask her\, can she tell me where to find the descendants of Madame Fofo\, my fofo. She does a pirouette and stops facing me. She seems start led by my old-style clothes\, the first in these future times\, but tells me to go to a party at the beach\, where her cousin is. She is the best hi storian she knows.\n\n So\, I travel back out and go back from whence I ca me\, back to the waters about my city\, back to the waters that can take y ou anywhere. And\, a party existed where I stepped out of. People drinking \, partying\, listening to music. I recall the description of the cotton a ngel and look about\, even get a free sausage from finely ground meat that is put in between a fluffy bread shaped similar. I imagine to myself\, i may never find the historian but then I notice a woman from afar who may b e her. I keep walking toward and I am certain she fit the description. I f ace the potential historian standing next to her friend I assume. The frie nd\, like an Incan princess\, notice me first and realize my stare. I appr oach and the historian turns to me.\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n I ask the historian h er name and it matches what the cotton angel told me. I explain to her I a m looking for Madame Fofo\, my fofo. The historian looks to me in disbelie f\, and pulls a letter out of her pocket\, telling me she found it in the archives and keep it for inspiration. She tells me\, to read it.  \n\n I read the letter and it says: Mon amour\, mon corniste\, mon Tontton\, j'ai fait ce dont tu avais besoin. J'espère que vous trouverez notre avenir sûr. Je veux vous demander\, vous dire\, beaucoup de choses. Mais\, je ne peux même pas savoir si vous lirez ceci. En l'état\, je dirai ce que vo us devez entendre. Où est ta corne? C'est là que nous nous sommes embra ssés pour la première fois. la touche tape sur la perle blanche. La mél odie que nous avons faite ensemble.\n\n I comprehend instantly\, hand the letter back to the young lady and go to Bienville street\, and to where we kissed for the first time. The lamp is still there and I see at the base the bumpy surface and a white bump exists. Then I tap on the it with my sh oe. ba-bedee-debede-doo-boo-badoboop-ba-ba-badoboop-badoboop-bedee-debede- bedee-debede and a latch open. My horn! I play our melody on our horn and I can see it is all worth it\, as the world reverse before my eyes\, like an old movie\, Bienville street is going to the way it was in the past.\n\ n\n\n \n\n\n\n Past I do not know\, but past looking closer to my own. Now I know it is worth it\, now I know I was right to risk this. The priestes s said the Cardinal’s spell on our child needed someone to risk their li fe\, where only love can succeed. I trusted in my Fofo and she trusted in me\, and I am coming back. Better keep playing my horn. ba-bedee-debede-do o-boo-badoboop-ba-ba-badoboop-badoboop-bedee-debede-bedee-debede and on an d on and on\, I see her. STOP! It is the evening\, and My Fofo run to me\, and embrace me. But she isn’t alone\, someone is in a carriage next to her. Someone who look a little like us both.  Ancestres!  \n\n “Mon am our\, voici notre fils. L'annee est” I kiss my wife. I do not need to kn ow that. We have all the time in the world.\n\n\n\n  \n\n\n\n STORY 2\n\n \n\n  \n\n\n\n I am walking alone\, far from bourbon street. Far from the sound of beads hitting bare breast\, drunken stammers acapella through th e krewes horns\, just a man alone with the moonlight looking down upon me. I see a small shop\, too small to have a sign\, only the merchandise in t he window provide any clue to the innards. Nothing particular I notice: ma sks/cloaks/old horns with stories to tell. But wait\, a small figurine cat ch my eye. A simple figurine ready for Mardi Gras in an appropriate outfit .\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n I hear a sound in my ear as I look upon the figurine. B ut I cannot decipher it. \"venez ici\": I hear clear while subtely. I shak e my head wondering why I am hearing french. \"come here\": I comprehend b ut I do not know from who. Again\, the voice repeat and I notice my attent ion to the figurine. She is not moving\, she does not seem mechanical\, an d yet I seem to know the voice is from here. I enter the shop. \"Bonjour\" : is the shopkeeper courtesy. I am surprised he think I know a lick of fre nch. I ask about the figurine in the window. He say\, she is very old\, ma de for a gens de colour libre woman. I ask him the price\, a gentle fiftee n dollars. I accept\, and he gathers the figurine and place her in a box w ith bubble pop for cushion. I leave thinking\, I have no wife or daughter and I am getting a cute figurine. Well\, at least I can tell people she is old. \"trouver ma peinture\": I sense from the figurine but I keep on wal king. \"find my painting!\": and I face the unchanged figurine\, holding i t high above my head\, and ask a silly question: \"where is your painting? \" I wait but no reply. I continue to walk finally satisfied this nocturna l magic is finished with me. \"North roman entre Beinville et Iberville\" I recall the two streets\, I think I know where she mean. I take out my ma p and recall I passed that location and I begin to walk there. My companio n stay muted even as I approach the methodist church at the locale. I look down to the figurine and wonder if this is alright. A light is on\, insid e. I walk to the door and knock. A cleaning man open the door. \"Why aren\ ": he stop speaking and seem in a daze. I wave my hand in his face. No cha nge. I decide to go inside foolishly\, not knowing if the magic I did not use will come again if more strangers find a stranger in their church. But I look about the nave or the walls and see no painting. I look behind a c olumn and see her.\n\n \n\n\n\n Somehow I know the figurine is happy. But then a question occur to me. This painting is you. I thought you were give n to a gens de colour libre girl\, not that you are a gens de colour libre woman. The painting then wink at me. I look up and she speak. \"Bon soir anglo\, I... need your help\": she speak simply. I ask her\, what can I do to help you. \"You need to face the woman who did this to me and then fac e me to her\, i can do the rest\": she speak surely. I have many doubts. \ "Whomever did this to you is way beyond me\, I am no sorcerer\": I say esc apingly. \"Y do not need to know how to wield the magic\, just know I need your actions to aidez moi... and the woman in question is located in La F ourche\, you will find here where three tree intertwine\": and then the pa inting became still. I look at the figurine and nothing. I go to the door of the church and the cleaning man is still quiet\, so I slip past him and close the door behind me. It can be unwise walking around new orleans or around cajun country at night\, even during mardi gras but I figure the fi gurine will help. I buy a sandwich from a local deli and a pack of cigaret tes. I eat while I walk\, figurine safely in her box\, and I keep walking. By the time I get to La fourche I am smoking cigarettes. A car with a con federate sign\, fill to the rim with white men who are looking at me\, dri ve but do not stop. I know I need to make this quick. I go by homes\, some literally at the river edge\, and look for the three entwined tree. I hea r a scream. I see a man violently moving and decide to hide behind a bush. I creep near the window and see a dangerous sight.\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n I loo k down at the figurine and wonder if this little magic will not get me kil led. \"Sud\, sud!\": I hear in my head. Clearly my wavering got the attent ion to my master. I leave the scene\, and hope I can find this tree before I end up in a horror movie. I walk south and finally I see the tree. But no one else is there. \"Speak these words anglo...Je te donne mon cœur\, tu me donnes un objectif\, personne ne doit le savoir\": the figurine spea k hurriedly in my soul. I am hesitant but finally I decide\, all well what the hell. And\, after speaking the words\, nothing. \"PUT ME AWAY QUICK\" : the figurine speak\, I can hear her ceramic heart beating\, the black pr iestess soul underneath determined. Suddenly\, a half of a mask appear on one side of the three twined tree. The eye behind one half of the mask see m to be a fluid blue. I hear a loud sniff. and\, a woman appear from behin d the tree.\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n A forked tongue hiss whisper from the mask: \ "You are pretty fonce to be down here\, anglo...now what is your goal\, if your coeur is not heavy enough\, I get the rest of the deal\". I reply fi rmly: \"alright ma'am\, though I already gave my heart to another\, though I cannot comprehend exactly why\": and I pull out the figurine quickly\, facing the masked woman straight away. A hiss is heard from all angles and I hear the figurine in my head:\"Vous devez m'avoir oublié\, imbécile. Joséphine vous l'a toujours dit\, pour faire attention aux vieux sorts qu e vous lancez.\" The masked woman\, writhing\, spit out in french:\"Anacao na\, mais je connais le sang de ta famille\, tu n'avais pas de descendants \, pas de clan pour t'entendre.\" The figurine spoke again:\"Imbecillia\, vous avez oublié que le membre du clan peut avoir n'importe quelle distan ce\, et l'esclavage de votre côté de notre famille a profité d'éclats faits dans mon clan il y a longtemps.\" And\, a flash. Something knocked m e down but someone not present helped me up. \"LEve! anglo\, leve!\": said a woman\, a black woman in the gown from the tree woman. Her hair pure wh ite. She kneeled down and looked at a figurine on the ground. \n\n\n\n \n \n\n\n Suddenly\, I realized where is my fifteen-dollar figurine. I hear a giggle from the stranger masked woman:\"it is me\, the figurine\" I am am azed. And then I realize the figurine on the ground is the woman formerly behind the mask. My figurine\, pick up her nemesis\, and say:\"retourne\, go back to new orleans\, and thank you\". My honesty perk up. I did not do anything. She smile and say:\"This magic was not really of spells but cir cumstance\, will a descendent of mine find me\, me living in a porcelain f igurine in a small shop in new orleans\, but you found me\, pure chance an d that was the magic that tipped the scales\, no spells\, no incantations\ ". I stand up and offer a hand\, and I notice her hand has age. \"aucun pr oblem anglo\, I have been dormir a while\": she lift up and give me a hug and continue:\" I will be alright\, I think I know where I can help myself around here\, and I thank you for that\". Before I can speak\, a sole hor n player\, standing aside a wall is playing\, while the rest of bourbon is empty. It is very late. I think to go back to the three entwined tree\, b ut I am tired\, and I need to get rest. For some reason\, I need to get re st\, and I do. ... Back in New York City\, I wonder if I had a dream induc ed by someone planting something in a drink or spraying me with something. I think on that for weeks. And then I get a postcard.\n\n \n\n\n\n I turn to the back and I see Anacaona Liber's name attached to that old churches address. Her message is:\" Figure I needed a new painting with a new styl e\, I will wait for you to decide about listening to your heart\"\n\n I re alize\, what may have happened but hesitate to confirm and when I turn the postcard back around\, the image wink at me.\n\n\n\n  \n\n\n\n ART\n\n\n \n https://aalbc.com/tc/events/event/655-black-history-month-mardi-gras-20 26/\n\n\n\n  \n\n\n\n CELEBRATIONS\n\n\n\n  \n\n\n\n Salvador\, Bahia\, Carnival 2026\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n https://aalbc.com/tc/topic/12468-salvadaor- bahia-carnival-2026/\n\n DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20250203 DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20250310 RRULE:FREQ=YEARLY;INTERVAL=1 END:VEVENT END:VCALENDAR