Friday, December 2, 2022
We arrived at LaGuardia Airport very, very early in the morning and were pleased with what we saw of the rebuilt airport. The interiors were bright, spacious and attractively decorated. There was an abundance of places to spend your money on food, drinks, electronics, T-shirts, books and sundries and lots of comfortable tables and chairs in addition to the usual rows of fiberglass benches.
Of course, they saw me coming and had us board at Gate 58, out of a possible 59, with very few moving sidewalks to hasten progress. Also, my unopened tube of toothpaste, still in the box, was sacrificed on behalf of air safety.
First cousin Jae Price (née Joan Gotthelf) and her husband Robert picked us up at the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport, the first of many gestures of family friendship experienced in the next few days at the family reunion. But, first, allow me to fill in a bit of the family tree. Once upon a time in Poland, Marx Lato married Marian Laia Ryzowy and they had five children who reached adulthood, Samuel, Yetta, Harry, Fannie and Kajla, born between 1874 and ~1882. Kajla remained in Poland, dying in 1926; my grandmother Yetta, married to Joseph Gotthelf, moved to New York. The three other siblings settled in New Orleans, Samuel and Harry adopting the name Latter.
This weekend, over 80 people, descendants of the original five Latos and their companions, met in New Orleans for the first family reunion ever. It was an interesting and very heterogeneous crowd, that is not very Jewish. I am on the far left, predictably.
We began with an informal cocktail party at Tujague's Restaurant, 429 Decatur Street, the second oldest restaurant in New Orleans. It has been owned by a Latter family member since 1982. In addition to America's Favorite Epidemiologist and my two grandnephews and one grandniece (the delegates from Argentina) in attendance, I barely knew a handful of the other relatives present. For better or worse, my blogging preceded me in several people's awareness.
Saturday, December 3, 2022
Many of the family met this morning for coffee and beignets, French doughnuts, at Café Du Monde, 56 Dreyfous Drive, the second location of a French Quarter institution, situated outdoors in an expansive municipal park. Having met some people last night, it was easier to connect to others as we table hopped. The only downside was the abundant powdered sugar covering the beignets, eventually covering my blue chino pants.
Afterwards, Harold and Eileen Fisher (not the Eileen Fisher, however), she a great-granddaughter of both Samuel and Kajla, cousins married cousins, drove us downtown to the Museum of the Southern Jewish Experience, 818 Howard Avenue, open Saturdays, closed Tuesdays. It has only been open a year and effectively tells the story of Jews who settled in Southern towns and villages, often arriving first as peddlers, many taking root, some gaining prominence.
Black-Jewish relations were handled honestly, I thought. Jews were known to be slave holders in the same proportion as the general population. Of special interest was a poster recognizing the work for racial justice of Bea Gotthelf (1920-2022) of Jackson, Mississippi, probably not related.
Another photograph revealed something new and disturbing to me. I was well aware of the 20,000 or so German and Austrian Jews, stripped of their citizenship, who fled to Shanghai in the late 1930s, the only place in the world that allowed entry to stateless Jews. My first wife was born there to a once-Austrian couple. When the Communists took control in 1949, all Europeans were banished, my relatives-to-be going to Montreal. What I learned today was how badly some others were treated.
Consistent with the anti-Semitism and xenophobia that characterized US policy before, during and after WWII, 447 Jews who arrived in San Francisco by ship from Shanghai in February 1949 were placed in a sealed train - a sealed train - that carried them to Jersey City, where they were loaded on a ship to Haifa. Somebody thought that it was a good idea to call the transport “Liberty Train.”
. . .
We invited our young relatives Tomás, Benjamin and Emma to join us for dinner at Superior Grill, 3636 St. Charles Avenue, an enormous Mexican restaurant. Even though most of the crowd had just watched LSU lose a championship football game, the noise level did not abate. Fortunately, the waiter had no problem hearing me and quickly brought a large frozen strawberry margarita, which lubricated the rest of the evening.
Everyone enjoyed the food, also served in large portions. I had the El Paso Plate, chicken enchilada, chile relleno, taco al carbon, tamale, cheese enchilada topped with chili con carne, rice and refried beans, a remarkable bargain that I couldn't even finish ($22).
Sunday, December 4, 2022
The key reunion event was held today at Ralph’s on the Park, 900 City Park Avenue. The centerpiece was a 22-foot family tree created by Cousin Jerry Latter, an enormous task. Jerry and Cousin Didier Opotowsky (we have Opotowskys and Opatowskys) gave slide talks about the origins and growth of the family. We then sat down to a surprisingly good group luncheon of Louisiana blueberry salad with baby spinach, roasted pecans and goat cheese, followed by pecan-crusted trout (cooked just right for 80 people, wow, that's hard). Dessert was heavenly, "Blackout Doberge," layered devil's food cake with chocolate pudding filling, chocolate ganache frosting sitting on crème anglaise. It had my name on it.
After the program, we took a street car to the French Quarter and back, playing tourist for the afternoon. Later, Madam and I joined Didier, his wife and two of his daughters for dinner at Gallier's Restaurant & Oyster Bar, 129 Carondelet Street. Going with the flow, I started with four really good oysters. For my main course, I had a large seafood platter, fried oysters, shrimp and fish with French fries and Caesar salad ($27). Sorry you missed it.
Monday, December 5, 2022
I don't want to leave you with the impression that NOLA cuisine is flawless. I had two po' boys for lunch, Friday after arrival and today at the airport before departure. Po' is an appropriate description. As soon as we got into Manhattan, I asked the taxicab driver to drop my young bride at Pastrami Queen, 136 West 72nd Street, to shop for our dinner. The pastrami sandwich she brought home might appropriately be called a rich boy, by comparison. Maybe New Orleans should stick to fried food.
Tuesday, December 6, 2022
Meanwhile, back in the unfortunately real world. In Florida, we learn of a father and son, not recognizing a neighbor dropping off a package delivered to him by mistake, run outside with .45 caliber handguns and shoot at a woman sitting in her car at the curb. https://www.cnn.com/2022/10/
She survived, but I'm not sure that sanity did.
Thursday, December 8, 2022
I had oral surgery today, or so I am told. I went to the Department of Dentistry of Montefiore Medical Center, sat in a chair while nurse Julia struggled to find a vein in my pudgy arm, then found some bloody drool on my chin and was told that I was finished and not to drink through a straw.
Friday, December 9, 2022
I went to the Strand Bookstore, 828 Broadway, still as important a landmark as the Statue of Liberty or Radio City Music Hall, although its discount policy has weakened considerably. It does have miles of books, as advertised, and has added T-shirts, totes, mugs and the like. There is also a coffee bar at the rear of the ground floor. I easily found items to fill in my Hanukkah gift list.
For lunch, I went one block away to Cutlets Sandwich Co., 99 Third Avenue, where, fortunately, one of the three stools at the counter in the front window was available. I ordered the Breakfast Burrito, two eggs over easy, hash browns, sharp white American cheese, pico de gallo and thick cut bacon, wrapped in a large tortilla ($10). It was a gloopy mess, egg yolk running over my hands, just the way I like it.
No comments:
Post a Comment