In my short life span, I have been referred to as "Creole" and on to "Creole of Color" then to "Colored". And who can forget the jump up to "Negro"? "Black" was next, and a righteous step it was. Then came "Afro-American". Now I nod my head "uh-huh" to "African-American". The language of the "jazz funeral" has been as inclusive to its people and their times. Each generation, ever-changing, with new wounds to heal. New voices, mindful of the traditional, name the outcries from all of us to God's ear. From "funeral march" to "jazz funeral" to the current "funeral with music", any name you use, a New Orleans jazz funeral will have you experiencing something special about the life we humans live, and the death we all face.

The low muffled sigh of a dark, old lady as she chokes back tears, handkerchief clenched to her open, dripping mouth; a dazed-eye boy trying to maintain his stance as manliness drains liquidly down his quivering legs; a wife left to her own grunts trumpet-like refusals of the most undeniable fact ..... death.

A son, a father, a husband. As the coffin lid locks shut, a corpse. Friends and neighbors move into the aisles pressing hand and cheeks, mumbling quiet nothings. With grim finality, church bells announce the service's end.

And the choir sings:

" GOD BE WITH YOU"
" God be with you ... (I say) God be with you
'Til we meet again.
Keep on working for the Master
Keep on singing here n'ever after
God be with you ...
'Til we meet again."

Some things have changed in the jazz funeral over the years I'm not too happy about. The younger people have brought in more of that raggae "hop around" feeling to some of the music. I like that solid back-beat laid on the traditional march tempo. But that's me. Some things though, I'm glad they're gone. Like those horse drawn hearses. They were more elegant now, don't get me wrong. But the stench from all those piles of droppings was enough to make you settle for cars. Another thing I can do without is all the fear that surrounded the funeral processions. alongside the family offering support, protecting them from possible harrassment by those with a "bone to pick"; ill-tempered "other women" or rejected, illegitimate offspring. Now, the "wobbling" walk in fear of possession is just part of a farewell dance from the crowd as the family releases the soul to its destiny. More instruments have been added over the years – – playing spirituals \ and dirges when they first leave the church, then jubliliant, crowd-pleasing party numbers as they toast the dead:

The soul is free . . . rejoice!
Or as we say "Cut 'em loose!"

And the people sing:

"AMAZING GRACE"
"Amazing grace....
How sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now I'm found.
Was blind, but now I see."

Burning sun, one hundred percent humidity and it ain't about to rain ... but once you hear the band coming down the block, you gotta come outside and see. I mean, it IS right of the house. Lawd, rest his soul and give his poor wife comforting. We were in there playing cards, and I had a lil' okra stewing on the stove. Pops! Take off your hat, baby, and show some respect. That's somebody's Daddy or uncle, y'know. And one of our great New Orleans musicians, too! . . .

Low, bone aching tempos are now pumped-up with demands of release. The mandate is to mend, to heal. The pulse thickens as jazz erupts.

Gold piece in my right palm, head resting on a silken pillow, like I was just taking an afternoon nap after some good "horizontal refreshment". Yes, how sweet it is to know you died standing pat. The boys'll make sure I'm dressed-up in my finest, paraded in front of all my favorite spots before being laid to rest. Flowers decorated in shape of my instrument will adorn my "marked" grave. The end of a perfect death...! Didn't have much say so coming in, so I'm not expecting much to do with going out of this blessed life. And I do mean "blessed". Okay, I didn't have no money to speak of, but I really didn't need all that much of nothing with the kind of family and friends I knew were looking out for me. And once I understood the God-given talent that was in my hands to play an instrument?! I had it made in the shade.