The first time I went to New Orleans I hung out with a group of locals I just met. They were all grieving their friend Mickey. I spent the day with them at Oliver’s shop on Magazine Street as they built parasols for his second line. They invited me to the funeral. It was a full on celebration of life. It began with a service in a cathedral, then we second lined with a jazz band, dancing while twirling our parasols to Louis Armstrong park, where our second line erupted into a full on dance party. That’s what I want, a complete and utter celebration of life, with lots of champagne. I want to be cremated (obviously). My older sister’s cremains are in a Betty Boop lunch box. I guess I could adorn a coffee can with tons of pearls and sequins for mine. Maybe I should get going on that….