Big Faith, Little Restraint

Well.  How can I summarize for you the childlike joy and utter euphoria of Who Dat Nation right now?  The streets are empty (except for Bourbon), hangovers are being nursed, and plans for the best parade of all time are being made.  It is sixty and sunny.  New Orleans is proud. Triumphant.  Alive (again). 

Beau and I have restrained our stalking fandom ever since we moved into our new house.  You see, Drew is our neighbor a couple blocks down.  We pass his house on the way home from work each day.  We see his family (and him) walking the track in the Park on the weekends.  We have so many times wanted to ring the bell or leave a good luck note or some PJ's coffee on his front stoop.  A gesture, something to say thank you-our-broken-hearts-have-started-healing-since-you-came-along.  (Beau has also considered prominently displaying his IU flag in front of our house in hopes that Drew will be curious..."Wow.  Is there a person on my street who has stepped foot in the Hoosier state?  Is there someone 'round these parts who remembers my Boilermaker days because he was there!?") 

Needless to say, we have controlled ourselves and acted like Y'allywood/Hollywood South people are supposed to act...nonchalant.  New Orleans people pride themselves on giving super celebs some room to breathe.  "Oh, hey, Sandy (BULLOCK!), what's up?"  or "Oh, I didn't even notice that Kim and Reggie are next to me at the movies...(OMG OMG OMG)"  or "Brangie, you dropped that toy (IN PIPPEN LANE!), let me help you pick that up."  You get the picture. 

However, today is different.  We were called by the higher gris gris powers to pay homage to Saint Drew.  Along with a slew of other flowers, cards, notes, posters, stuffed animals, we taped this sentiment to Drew's fence. 

Front of card. 

If you haven't seen this, it is Baby Beau in Terre Haute, Indiana, 1976.  Tiniest Who Dat fan north of the Mason Dixon. 

Back of card. 

I hope he receives it. 

Cheers and lots of Who Dat love,

JSH