1
A full life
Some people say all of life is about money, if you have enough of it you can have a full life. Is that true? Perhaps it depends on the definition of the words âfull life.â Money allows you to have luxuries only the rich can afford, without being restricted to simply having the basic needs of food, shelter and clothing. Wealthy people can feast on gourmet food, own a mansion full of servants, and wear designer clothing. Money also offers opportunities not available to those of lesser means, such as an education at an Ivy League school or inheriting a successful business. However, it doesnât provide anyone the intelligence to succeed at those schools or even the common sense to make logical business decisions to keep a company operating. And money certainly doesnât instill in anyone an appreciation of cultural things or a good sense of values. It takes exposure to both to spark an interest.
The Declaration of Independence states that all United States citizens have âthe right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,â and that âall men are created equal.â Those basic rights offer opportunities available to all. Nonetheless, it is up to each individual as to how he, or she, lives that life, uses that freedom, and pursues that happiness. We can survive with simple food, modest shelter, and plain clothing. We can also limit our education, or get loans and work our way through college.
Happiness is a different matter. Notice the phraseology. Weâre not insured happiness, only the right to pursue it. Money may bring a surge of happiness, but it isnât lasting. Nor does it bring contentment. Itâs been said people who were asked how much money they would need to be comfortable responded twenty percent more than they currently had. This was at all levels of income.
So what does enrich us, make our lives full? It is up to us to capitalize on our equality. As Mark Twain said, âThe secret of getting ahead is getting started.â Maybe the answer is finding ways to use opportunities to increase our appreciation of the finer things and enjoy life to the maximum of our abilities. No matter what our occupation or situation is Tourism Writing can be a useful tool in this endeavor.
Tourism Writing allows the message of intriguing things about places and events to be told. It creates an awareness of another world ready to be explored by adventurous individuals. Then it offers a direct invitation to visit that world, along with a guide including photos and links. It does not matter whether the place is Repton, Alabama, or Bellingham, Washington, readers are exposed to events or places that may tweak their interest. While this book focuses on Alabama and nearby areas as examples, by extension all states have unique features. And even the smallest areas usually have local historians who can point out those interesting places or events to potential visitors, hopefully enticing them enough to visit.
Travel guides and advertisements appeal to many people but they are seen as one television ad or one ad on a sheet of paper. Not only is the image fleeting, thereâs also a barrier in place. The viewer knows the purpose is to make a sale, and it is often quickly dismissed for that reason. However, when a reader of a novel has established a rapport with a character and makes an emotional connection with what that character is experiencing at a real place or event, a new level of involvement occurs. The photos and links seem inadequate. Oftentimes, it stirs feelings deep enough to make a reader sufficiently curious to want to see the place or attend the event in person. Even more personal is the direct invitation to visit. Readers feel welcome. Then Tourism Writing has achieved its goal.
2
Schools
The most obvious way Tourism Writing can benefit people is in schools. Since this is a new genre, it can tweak studentsâ curiosity. New types of assignments are refreshing and they stimulate interest. Since the project requires seeking a place or an event conducive to encouraging visitors to their area, students will find themselves either adding to their knowledge of a known location or special occasion, or searching and exploring something they know little about to see if it is worthy of consideration. They will have to research and analyze their options.
Reaction to investigation is automatic, if not reflex. Immediately upon investigating a location, you are likely to discover something previously unknown. For example, a student attending a Mardi Gras Parade in Mobile, Alabama, for the first time might be surprised to see a crowd of all ages scrambling for trinkets. Or, in researching its history, the student may uncover the fact that Mobile celebrated Mardi Gras first, before New Orleans.
My story, entitled Raisinâ Cain, won the 2014 Southeastern Literary Tourism Initiative Contest (SELTI). It stimulated a lot of interest in showing how Mobileâs Mardi Gras is family friendly. Hopefully, it also brought some new visitors who read it to Mobile. It is printed here as a sample.
Raisinâ Cain
Mamie was ninety-three when she stepped onto the Cain Raisersâ float on Joe Cain Day, the Sunday before Mardi Gras a couple of years ago. But that didnât stop her from throwing beads and Moon Pies and enjoying every minute of the ride through downtown Mobile, Alabama.
A transplant from Yankee Land, Mamie saw things about Mardi Gras that native Mobilians often miss. âWhen do you ever see a crowd of over a hundred thousand people this happy?â she asked me during the hour we parked beside the Mobile Municipal Auditorium, waiting in line with thirty other floats for the Joe Cain Parade that began in 1966 to start.
I mulled over that as our float finally moved forward. Chief Slacabamorinico, IV, pastor Bennett Wayne Dean, whoâd held the position over twenty years, led the parade decked out in his colorful feathered headpiece. We eased through downtown streets of Mobile, all blocked off for the duration of the parade. The crowdâs glee was evident as our float passed Bienville Square, packed twenty rows deep with smiling faces looking up at us.
Children and adults with outstretched arms screamed, âThrow me something, lady.â Some had signs with a riderâs name, or their own name, held high. Others had jar retrievers to scoop up throws, or upside-down umbrellas they hoped to fill.
At 96, still not too old for Mardi Gras.
One elderly lady in the front row sat in her wheelchair in a wide-brimmed hat. She could barely hold up her hands to wave at riders. But she didnât have to beg for anything. Maskers generously showered that person, probably a long-time parade-attendee, with full packages of beads, doubloons and anything else they could aim her way. Her lap was full.
Mamie was right. Where else are people so pleased to catch those trinkets? The float slowed to a stop and Mamie nudged me. âThey even say, âThank youâ, and they share. Look over there.â She pointed to a unkempt man in tattered clothes with a scruffy beard handing over his loot to the nearest child. I saw another person four rows back with a sign saying, âWeâre from Missouri. Show us what youâve got.â Next to him, a teenager held a big net. I barraged them with Moon Pies and beads, but missed my mark. Not one item fell into his net.
As we turned the corner on a narrow side street, our float was within inches of the crowd. It stopped again and a lady holding a childâs hand spoke directly to me. Wide-eyed, she leaned across the barriers put there for safety and asked, âWhatâs going on?â
A tipsy sailor next to her slurred, âSay, do you do this every weekend?â
As the float pulled away, I shook my head but I wondered if he believed me. I didnât have time to respond to the ladyâs question. I wasnât sure how to answer it anyhow. Couldnât she tell this was a parade?
We rounded another corner to a packed Government Street. As a main artery, traffic from Bankhead Tunnel usually flows down this street. Not today, and not before or after any Mardi Gras parades. Some days, we have as many as five parades. During this two-week season, vehicles are diverted to our other tunnel, the Wallace Tunnel on Interstate 10.
A policeman on horseback made his way to the beginning of the parade, evidently to bring it to another halt because we stopped again in front of the Admiral Semmes Hotel. Guests on the balcony screamed out their presence. Though it was a good distance away, some caught throws from maskers with strong arms. Gleefully, others snatched beads from outstretched hands of their companions and put them around their necks.
On the street below, men and women gave trinkets to people theyâd probably befriended as they patiently awaited the grand spectacular. Many handed over things to people they never saw before and theyâll never see again. Some stepped out of the way to watch the joy of a child catching a stuffed animal and hugging it close. Mamie looked at me and remarked, âItâs not the trinkets they want, itâs the thrill of the chase.â
Itâs all free, too. The only expense may be for parking if no spots on the street are available. Homeowners or business establishments nearby fill their yards or parking lots with cars. At five or ten dollars a space, depending on how close they are to the parade route, they can pick up quite a few dollars during the two weeks of festivities.
While people await the colorful pageantry, they chat with each other. There are no strangers. The crowd of all ages is composed of every ethnic group, race and religion, from the very rich, such as a former Mardi Gras queen, to the very poor, even the homeless. During this equalizer, camaraderie abounds. In addition, all are entertained by vendors rolling squeaky carts down the street, hawking their wares. âBalloons, stuffed animals, hot popcorn.â
Some entrepreneurs pull wagons with ice chests full of drinks. Others set up shop in tents and tempt potential customers with the scent of onions frying, and hamburgers, hot dogs, and sausages filling the air. Children beg for cotton candy when they get a whiff of its sugary aroma. Vendors flock to Mobile to make money. And they do.
Mardi Gras is also a big tailgate party. Near the auditorium, under the interstate, people with RVâs and trailers rent spaces for the season. Other families gather on street corners, in parking lots, or at friendsâ houses. Setting up their own grills, they barbeque chicken, cook corn-on-the-cob, bake potatoes and munch on King Cake, feasting on the sumptuous food often washed down by beer, wine or mixed drinks that flow freely.
Children, whoâll enjoy school holidays on Monday and Fat Tuesday, sip on soft drinks from decorated plastic cups caught the previous year, frolic around on the sidewalks, and climb ancient, huge oak trees until the parade arrives. Then, theyâre ready to do what they do best--yell out, âMoon Pie; beads!â and scramble.
On streets off the parade route, carnival rides like Ferris wheels go round and round. People stand in line awaiting their turn to ride and scream, sometimes in mock fear. Like other things behind the scene--such as the float building, the costumes, the formal rentals, sales of ball dresses, photography of eventsâall promote Mobileâs economy.
Mardi Gras has other, long lasting benefits, tooâsentimentality. Many memories are made by people who are lucky enough to live in Mobile or to come here to attend the festivities on a regular basis. When Mardi Gras is in session, ghosts of the past surface in the minds of people remembering times long gone. They hear echoes of those who marched these streets in bands to the cheers of the crowd, or of maskers riding in parades year after year as members of Mardi Gras Societies, responding to the crowdâs pleas.
It has happened ever since 1867 when Joe Cain rode down Government Street in a decorated charcoal wagon pulled by a mule. Despite Union soldiersâ efforts to stop him and his six fellow Confederate veterans, they made noise dragging rakes against iron work as they trekked down the main street of the city.
As is customary, in honor of Cainâs revival of Mardi Gras after the Civil War, the parade came to a halt in front of the Church Street Graveyard. It stopped long enough for the black-clad and black-veiled Merry Widows to place a wreath on Joe Cainâs grave where he was reburied in the 1960âs.
Planning for this event is extensive. Artistic paper-mache floats conforming to the theme are a year long in the making. Costumes of riders also match. Discipline is needed. While police cars and motorcycles with sirens blasting clear the road, bandsâincluding the hundred year-old Excelsior Band, some descendants of the predecessorsâmarch between floats to slow down the parade. They always get a huge round of applause. Strutting drum majorsâ moves become contagious. Bystanders dance or tap their feet to the beat of the marching tunes, especially When the Saints Go Marching in.
One other place the parade almost comes to a standstill is a section set aside for those mentally or physically challenged. When we approached, Mamie said, âI canât wait for this. Catching throws makes them so happy; theyâre so easily pleased.â Along with other maskers, she bombarded them with throws. âLook at that,â she said, âeven the most solemn crack a smile when theyâre handed an unwrapped moon pie or when beads are draped around their necks.â
Mamie was right. For all involved, fun, fellowship and good times prevail. Few can resist. People get caught up in the frivolous event and forget their problems. Time stands still for Mardi Gras.
However, it comes to an end. After travelling an hour and a half long route on the streets of downtown Mobile, we pulled to a stop near the bus that transports us to our Mardi Gras Ball. Mamie looked at me. I saw a sparkle in her faded blue eyes when she was being helped off the float. âYou know,â sh...