This particular closet that I refer to was very deep and then made a turn under the stairs. This made it especially private. One had to pass through two fairly long racks of clothes, mostly coats which made for great camoflage.
I have wondered what children growing up in New Orleans chose as a substitute for closet hiding. The vast majority of homes in New Orleans don't have closets They were considered "rooms" therefore taxed as such so people resorted to armoires. Not very roomy at all.
We watched "Spy", a funny and well-crafted sendup of James Bond crossed with Homeland. Starringelissa McCarthy, and a well-cast ensemble. We liked it in the same way we liked Team America: World Police. Both films poke fun in enjoyable ways.
One memory that has rattled around in my brain for a big part of my life dates back to when I was about 10 years old. One night my biological father was taking my big brother floundering in the shallows of the Gulf of Mexico. I don't remember if it was decided that I was too small to join them or if I had been asked and said I did not want to go. So I was with my mother that evening "out on the town" (Gulfport, MS!) and her duty (?) was to entertain me until the others finished. There was a wonderful movie playing in town, but it was not really the sort of movie that interested her. Nevertheless, she asked me "would you like for us to go and play bingo at St. John's or would you like to see King Kong vs. Godzilla? Even at that age, I knew what she was hoping I would say, but I said "I want to see King Kong vs. Godzilla!" And so that's what we did. It was wonderful, at least I thought so. But from the day after that fabulous movie to this day in 2017, I still feel guilty about subjecting her to that. It's amazing what (some) parents will do to please their children.
Now that you're an adult yourself, you know that adults can give themselves over to hokey movies if they have to, plus your mother must have been tickled to afford you such a perfect pleasure. You obviously learned from her how to do things you didn't care to do just because it was nice for someone else. So ~ time to forgive yourself!
Several years ago we had a good friend who lived in the French Quarter in a really cool apartment on Royal Street.
One Mardi Gras while we were out and about we went by her place and "took a load off', ate, kicked back and visited for a stretch.
While we were there our friend was unable to find her cat who was an indoor kitty and she was really worried that the cat might have slipped out with all the comings and goings. Her boyfriend made a really insensitive remark and while I can excuse him to some degree as he had imbibed a bit too much, it only heightened her anxiety. He said, "for all we know the cat is dead, lying out in the street with all the other debris, so there's really not much else you can do but just wait and see if it comes back". Well, the cat did come back.
The next day, Ash Wednesday, I got a call from my friend who asked me if I could go over to her boyfriend's house and retrieve a bag and bury it in my yard. The boyfriend had spent the night at her apartment and upon returning home early the next morning to get ready to go to work found his cat dead on the rear deck of his house not far from where we live. He was devastated and because he did not have any yard to speak of wanted for me to bury "Jake" in our yard.
So, off I went on my bicycle and put the bag containing his dead cat in my basket and rode it home to bury.
It was so surreal. The nearby Catholic church was just letting out from the Ash Wednesday services, all these people with ashen smudges on their foreheads, and me with a dead cat in my bike basket riding past.
What a story, Casimira! You could easily work that up into a great short story, with its Joy Williams + Walker Percy vibe. Wow.
Thanks Bixa. I had to look up Joy Williams but, flattered enough to have anything resembling the likes of any association with Walker Percy.
My friend went on to marry this same man. Mind you, after the incident, burial and all, it was never spoken of. He never thanked me, neither T. or I ever brought it up nor did she. We ran into the two of them on this past Mardi Gras and the memory was triggered. In the back of my head I, in some kind of albeit twisted way,I wanted to say, "remember the time...?" But I refrained and for good reason obviously.(BTW,.my friend always had poor taste when it came to her choice of men.)
I'd have broken up with him over that; however if I had any lawn or garden, I suppose I'd have permitted burial of the cat. Not the cat's fault. People don't have to be animal lovers, but I have always found those who make callous comments about those who are a bit unhinged.