I was at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival this past weekend. If you have never been to Jazzfest, and you have any regard for music and food, please make plans to go next year.
While New Orleans still suffers from more than its fair share of racism, you may never see a better example of functional and even blissfully functional diversity than you will at Jazzfest. Old, young, gay, straight, white, black, you name it; this is the people's festival, and the prime directive is celebration. You are reminded here that life is short and fragile and something to be cherished and shared in abundance. You are reminded that so much of what endures as American music, cuisine, and art originated in the Delta, and much of it not in social clubs but in slave camps. There is no room for division of any kind in an environment like Jazzfest, even if one were so inclined.
On Sunday, my wife and I caught a cab from the fairgrounds to our hotel, and the driver -- an African American man in his 40s -- was listening to the Clippers game on his radio. I was surprised to say the least. I asked him if he knew about the Donald Sterling dustup, and he said he had. I asked him what he thought about it. His answer to that question surprised me even more.
Read More