In my younger days, eons ago it seems, I was a night owl. My last semester at the University of Miami rarely saw me going to bed before seven or eight in the morning and the school’s schedule and mine didn’t mesh.
Say what you will about New York, L.A. or Las Vegas, New Orleans (The Big Easy, The Big Sleazy, The City That Care Forgot) is a night owl’s nirvana. You NEVER left your house to go out carousing before 11 p.m. or midnight. Bars open 24 hours a day. Attending a Dr. John session at Tipitina’s that broke up at 7:30 in the morning. I loved watches out at sea from 4 to 6 in the morning and watching things take shape as the sun drove out the night.
But things have changed. Up here on the hill I can’t seem to sleep past 6 a.m. and this morning I was up at five and sitting on the porch with my steaming mug of coffee listening to roosters crowing from all points of the compass and cattle mooing on the other side of the trees on the east side of the field. But I’m nostalgic for those years I thrived in the night. I posted this video by the group Vaya Con Dios last October but it’s worth a repeat.