2004

It was 2004.  Martha Lou and I were attending a seminar in New Orleans.  Lunch was served at Bella Luna, in the upstairs dining room overlooking the Mississippi River.  This lady with a lovely smile invited us to sit at her table.  Her name was Bebe.  Her husband was Harry.  Bebe and Harry Freeman.  The first thing I noticed was her smile.  Then I noticed that her hair had just begun to grow back.

            Some people you just like from the start.  Bebe and Harry were like that.  In the next few months we touched base whenever we could.  There was lunch at the Café Atchatlaya.  There was breakfast at Brennan’s.  In 2005, there was a wedding at Antoines.  There was a jazz brunch in Bebe and Harry’s courtyard on Chartres Street.  Seems like there was always food and music.

            We communicated mostly by e-mail.  Martha Lou and Harry were in charge of that.  This was about the time I realized a computer might be worth having.  Bebe and Harry were either in New Orleans or in Starkville, their second home.  They were big Mississippi State fans.  Then we noticed that the trips to M.D. Anderson were becoming more frequent.  Harry’s messages were always full of hope.

            I never explored Bebe’s thinking.  It was just pleasant being around someone you absolutely knew to be a good person.  Some things were obvious.  I think Bebe believed that life was a frail curiosity, that being good to others was an obligation, and that being a Democrat was an exaltation.  She liked music, and she loved Harry.  That was enough.

            There are a thousand good lines in a thousand good songs, but without doubt, James Tayor said it best: “I always thought that I would see you again.”  We just can’t depend on that.  The phone call came from Harry.  Bebe was gone.  She wanted no service and had none.  If you didn’t honor Bebe while she was here, she wasn’t going to give you a second chance.  I like that.

            But last Saturday we had our final goodbye.  One hundred and fifty of us gathered in Bebe and Harry’s courtyard for a going away party.  The mood was festive, and, as always, there was music. 

            After a couple of hours, the band led us over to the river.  Along the way, we sang old standards.  I particularly enjoyed “Margie.”  It had a lift to it.

            When we reached the levee, we sang “I’ll Fly Away”, about twenty choruses.  Some folks danced.  No one wanted to let go.  As I stood there, I looked across the levee, just a few yards away, and there was Bella Luna.  There was the window where we had first met Bebe and Harry back in 2004.  The window was dark, a Katrina victim.  Full circle – it happens sometimes.

            But then came the good part.  Harry had provided each of us with a stem of daisies, Bebe’s favorite flower, and one by one we stepped to the edge of the landing and dropped our offering into the river. After a few moments we had created a stream of white, hugging the shore, but moving a little faster than I think we wanted---like life does sometimes. 

            Then I noticed that one flower had somehow broken away from the stream.  It had caught an eddy and was standing still, just looking back at us.  That’s when I remembered the sign in Bebe’s courtyard.  “Flowers are the earth’s way of smiling,” it said.  Amen and Hallelujah !