The year of the Rubik’s Cube

It was probably 1984…or maybe it was 85. Either way, the day was cold; at least, cold for New Orleans. A wind chill in the 40′s threw most of our plans out of the window, all except for one–Mardi Gras.  I begged and pleaded with my father to take me downtown to the parade route, and against my mother’s best judgment he finally relented. So I got dressed in my costume, a handmade Rubik’s Cube costume, and piled into the station wagon. Beneath two layers of thermal underwear and gloves, I was all smiles. It was the festival of all festivals, the carnival of all carnivals. It was Mardi Gras, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

We drove uptown to the parade route and parked the car. My feet wouldn’t keep still in my lace up high tops; they were so full of excitement and anticipation. My father and I had worked on my Rubik’s Cube costume for weeks, and it was beautiful. In reality it was nothing more than a cardboard box with electrical tape and colorful paint, but in my mind, I was the best-dressed one out there. Most of the people we saw agreed, and I gladly posed for picture after picture on the cold neutraground.

|Read the Rest of the Story…