Growing Up New Orleans

Algiers

“For centuries, intensive settlement in Algiers

extended little beyond Algiers Point. The completion of

the Greater New Orleans bridge across the Mississippi

River in 1958 (now the Crescent City Connection)

and the construction of Victory Drive (now General

DeGaulle Drive) and General Meyer Avenue made

significant new development possible, and Algiers grew

rapidly for the next twenty-five years.

”

There are famous landmarks in Algiers that still

stand, and remind us of our musical heritage! The

famous singer and trumpet player Louis Armstrong

was born in New Orleans in 1901, and was one of the

most influential in jazz players in America. A statue

stands at the river levee, overseeing the passengers heading to Algiers Point.

“Speak up chil’ … tell um your name!

The seven-year-old boy, with deep, rich dark hair

combed back, looked like a miniature Clark Gable in

his suit and bow tie. He whirled around and answered,

“James,” to the elderly woman sitting on the velvet

couch.

The mother, with flaming copper hair, wearing a

black, silky Indian-style embroidered smock, nodded in

approval. Her outfit was completed with a fedora (and

a scarf tied around it) and dangling gold bracelets …

not the average funeral attire. But this was no everyday

funeral service or reception.

Today, the smells, styles, and dialects brought back the

Old South to us, as we said our heartfelt good-byes to Oma.

There was never a shortage of chattering, as most

of the guests were lifelong friends who had come to pay

their last respects following the funeral, at a friend’s

house located off of St. Charles Avenue in New Orleans.

When we heard the news that your mom had died,

my friend, Caren, and I were determined to be there

for the funeral and to say our own good-byes to Mrs.

Hopper.

Caren and her family had all lived on the West

Bank area of Algiers during our childhood. When were

heard that news that Marsha’s mom had died, we were

determined to be there to support the family.

Even before we entered the home, we could smell the

steaming pots of turkey okra gumbo emanating from

the kitchen. Several tables were set out in the patio for

the multitude of king cakes (including one stuffed with

a delicious boudin sausage!) A table near the kitchen

was where family and friends gathered to share a meal

and the memories of Mrs. Hopper and her close family.

We were often at Marsha’s house after school, eating

leftovers (including jambalaya, sweet tea, banana and

peanut butter sandwiches).

We also felt the loss, as Mrs. Hopper had been a

person who was as close to us as our own DNA. The

memorial service program, “A Celebration of Life of

Carole Pourciau Hopper,” provided so many wonderful

insights as to how motherhood transcends many

definitions, reaching multiple generations. These facts

are especially revealed during some of our darkest

moments.

During the service, a pianist played several

traditional Methodist hymns. Mrs. Hopper’s daughters

spoke the eulogies, each retelling the heartfelt memories

of motherly love. Her daughter, Nancy told stories about

her mom, who many called “Oma.”

At the closing, the piano player stepped up the spirit,

playing, “If Ever I Cease to Love You” (the traditional

King Rex anthem). Tears turned into laughter.

I was glad to be there, Mrs. Hopper, Caren too. Your

casket was velvet red, gold trimmed. You were so lovely.

The cherry red lipstick matched the outfit picked out for you.

 I can’t imagine how hard it was for

 your close family, to see you there, but not there.

They all handled it with grace and bravery. We tried to hold back our own tears.

After the church service, I remember something

said by oldest (another Carol) that rang so true. “Yeah,

you know, Mama, she collected children, gatherin’

them up, always opening her home (and dinner table)

to anyone who seemed hungry.”

There were plenty of miscreants. Over the years

many neighborhood girls and boys of all ages, who

were from broken homes, or survivors of disasters, were

healed with her utter acceptance. But some children

were a bit more trying on her nerves than others.

And you know, Mrs. Hopper, I think I must have

been your first real trial, and starting at an early age.

There was always some sort celebration, parade, or

Mardi Gras Ball around the corner. Mrs. Hopper had a

holiday tree for almost every occasion. The household

was one that was forever attracting friends who wanted

to be a part of the New Orleans family…no one was ever

turned away.