A Funeral in New Orleans

by “Funky Fingers”

Succulent Time

Succulent (adjective) suc·cu·lent [ˈsəkyələnt]

1. (of food) tender, juicy, and tasty.
2. BOTANY (of a plant, especially a xerophyte): having thick, fleshy leaves or stems adapted to life in a dry or physiologically dry habitat.

Xerophyte: any plant adapted to life in a dry or physiologically dry habitat (salt marsh, saline soil, or acid bog) by means of mechanisms to prevent water loss or to store available water.

Never dry, Dr. Maurice Martinez was, and lives on in his work as, an artist and teacher. Amid the clinical, if sometimes stuffy, collegiate atmosphere, he brought passion, personality, and heart. This makes the doctor a xerophyte. And when I went to visit him for the last time, it was food for the soul.

“The Black Indians of New Orleans” documents large, bright, colorful costumes and cultures. This was one of Dr. Martinez’s early works, before our dynamic duo. It’s an excellent example of his own character. Colorful, hunter, professor, musician, documentarian, writer, poet, and dirty joke teller. He is one of the most frustrating people I have ever had the pleasure to work with. I looked up to him. I was his editor.

Boar stew and Venison

No!

He stomps his foot with a furrowed brow. I’m cutting “No Teacher Left Behind.” The timing of an edit was off. I had just made the edit to see if it worked. It was nothing. I’m a fast video editor, and since you don’t have to cut with scissors anymore, you can try a lot more quickly. We saw it for the first time.

“That’s not right!”

“I can fix it in 30 seconds.”

He is an artist and sensitive about his work. So, am I?

“That’s not right!”

“Okay! I can fix it. “

Once ‘fixed’ he’d laugh warmly and say:

“Work out funky fingers! Work out!”

His first film was shot and edited on real film, like Kodak. So, he was probably having flashbacks, like in Vietnam. If something went wrong, it would take hours, days, or weeks to fix it. That didn’t make it less frustrating.

“Colored White Boy” is a documentary about a Caucasian man who found out he is also African-American. I loved the subject matter and was happy to work on it with him. Usually.

‘Calm down; it’s fine’ was a constant phrase. “Like the pancake said to the flapjack, stick with me, Jack, and you’ll go places.” He tells a bad joke that I’ve heard him tell 100 times. Why am I laughing at that? I shake my head and tell him I am still mad. We laugh.

Editing is like paint. You are painting with time and emotions. Or maybe it’s more like cooking. All this creates a cohesive “meal.” You can add meat or spices or take some away.

At school, I had learned all the tools. I could edit anything. What I had lost and what he reminded me of was that food, aka visual or auditory pieces, are an experience at every moment. You can tell if something is off or could be improved. This isn’t fast food, and a low budget doesn’t mean less entertaining.

It was like I had been taught how to make Fast and Furious but had forgotten what makes a moment great or a unique experience, like in Shawshank Redemption. He reminded me of the art. “That’s not bad.” meant “That’s not good.” or “Can we do better?”

We tried the weird. If we needed a shot, he would rather go out and get it himself! We threw stuff at the wall to see if it worked. We edited like jazz. He encouraged me to be experimental with my editing and artistic challenges. It was exciting! We even mixed jazz and classical music once. Somehow, it worked. And through emotion, we discovered new things.

Colored White Boy had a showing at the U.N.C.W. where he singled me out. I’m reminded that I’m shy, if proud.

Later, he had a celebratory get-together at his home.

He lived off the sound in Wilmington, NC. A place where you can often smell the salt water or the damp decay of the marsh. Moss hangs from all the trees, and at night, there is a crisp breeze from the water. Wilmington is haunted by the ghosts of it’s violent past. Sometimes it feels like the spirits are still alive in the air. Some parts feel like New Orleans, like Savanna.

Jumping live blues was coming from inside the two-story house with the two-car garage, full of father/husband projects and the needs of a hunter.

His beautiful wife greeted me when I knocked. Delicious smells filled my being as she opened the door.

“Hm, yum…”

“It’s boar!” She said.

“Boar?” I said.

“Yes! And venision. He got him last week. “

“Got him?”

“Well, shot him. We eat what he gets.”

This is interesting. He is interesting. Everyone says that. And he was.

That party was too great, cozy and full of life. It was a jam session.

The live music was from a local blues man, “Wolf,” who helped score part of the movie. Maurice had all kinds of instruments from all over the world. Even I got to play an African drum with some real musicians.

There were a range of teachers, other musicians, one editor, and a wide range of ages and cultures there. No one there didn’t have an interesting story or personality. It felt like a community. People are eating good food, drinking, laughing, and having spicy disagreements. It was great. There was no sense of exclusion at all. Like, almost every evening should be like this.

This was the party of a man from New Orleans. And everything was delicious. Succulent. This night and every party he threw was like this. You don’t want to leave. But no one can sing all night.

I was 22 and just out of film school. I’m not sure of his age, but he was about 10 years from retirement.

When he retired, I helped him move out of his office. He said he was going to use his time to get fit. He said he had been eating too well for years. We talked about Ethiopians winning all these races. He showed the reason: a distinct running style that emphasized leaning forward, using gravity for torque.

“I’m going to show you how to run fast.

He jogs quickly down the sidewalk.

“See?”

“I do not.”

“Helps you go long distances. You’ll see.”

We get his home editing office all set up. It feels weird. He picked up a few things editing with me and was going to try to do more on his own. I had moved to Atlanta, a six-hour drive from Wilmington. I couldn’t just drive and help all the time. But he could call me if he needed me. He told me about his retirement party coming up in a few months. I would love to go.

But I was being ambitious and took a short job instead. I still feel guilty. I missed that party.

I feel guilty that I didn’t visit him more. I wish I had told him how much he meant to me and how much I had learned from him about life and art. I want to tell him how much I miss his stories about jazz greats and other legends. I miss his jokes.

I wanted to make him proud and come back to him with something great I had done. I wanted to go to another party.

Poor Boy

A po’ boy (also po-boy, po boy derived from the non-rhotic southern accents often heard in the region, or poor boy) is a sandwich originally from Louisiana. It traditionally consists of meat, roast beef, ham, fried shrimp, fried crawfish, fried catfish, Louisiana hot sausage, fried chicken, alligator, duck, boudin, and rabbit, among other possible ingredients. The meat is served on New Orleans French bread, known for its crisp crust and fluffy center.

Itwas at the end of a 13-hour day at work when I got a text from my mother. It showed his passing in the paper. I had missed it. I could suddenly feel breezy Wilmington inside me like a humid night. I missed my chance to make him proud. Some friends toasted glasses of whiskey with me that night in his honor, while I told stories of him.

He was on the radio in Wilmington all week. Dr. Martinez was the host of a 15-part series on National Public Radio, “North Carolina Blue Notes.” His documentaries were played at the University of North Carolina at Wilmington.

Étouffée or etouffee (French: [e.tu.fe], English: /ˌeɪtuːˈfeɪ/ AY-too-FAY) is a dish found in both Cajun and Creole cuisine, typically served with shellfish over rice. The dish employs a technique known as smothering. In French, the word “étouffée” (borrowed into English as “stuffed” or “stifled”) literally means “smothered” or “suffocated,” from the verb “étouffer”.

In the case of the Creole version of crawfish étouffée, it is made with a blond or brown roux, and sometimes tomatoes are added. A blond roux is one that is cooked, stirring constantly, for approximately 5 minutes to remove the “raw” flavor of the flour and to add a slightly “nutty” flavor, while a brown roux is cooked longer (30 to 35 minutes) in order to deepen the color and flavor.

“Romance without finance is a nausance!”

I’d fallen in love with a girl, Nina, and she travelled with me to New Orleans for his service. I was hot and cold. I was angry and sometimes despondent. I may have fed into a few arguments. I appreciate her love and patience.

We left in the afternoon for a bittersweet road trip. We had both always wanted to go to New Orleans.

Also, we stayed at the most interesting Airbnb:

We arrived late to the wake. We sat near the back. Even though we were two hours late, people were still getting up steadily to tell stories about him. Again, they were all interesting. And everyone would chuckle in recognition of his soul and spirit.

I hate speaking in public. I felt like I owed it to him. I wanted to speak out for my friend, like that scene from Dead Poets Society or Dances with Wolves.

When they asked if anyone else wanted to go up, I felt the pull and stood. I walked to the front. I looked down from the mic and made eye contact with Mrs. Martinez.

“Hi, I’m Aeric and I was Maurices’ editor.”

I hear his wife whisper, Oh my God, in a way of loving surprise. It had been years. And I let the guilt flow out of my eyes and words.

“He was so frustrating! And I miss him. “

I see his son, who went to high school with me.

“He was so proud of his children. He said one thing he could do is make beautiful babies. I thought I had more time…”

I said my peace and came back down. Mrs. Martinez, Lu, gave me a hug and said thank you. I sit back down next to Nina, who gives me a tissue.

Alligator

Fried Alligator: First, heat a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add enough oil to coat the bottom of the skillet, then add the alligator pieces. Cook the alligator for 3 to 4 minutes per side, or until golden brown and cooked through. Serve with your favorite dipping sauce.

Nina and I went to the funeral the next day. There was a jazz band. We stayed for the full service and then walked around the city, eating different foods. In the morning, we did the same thing, eating good food and seeing interesting shops and items for sale.

So many flavors for my senses in the shortest amount of time. I ate the best food in the world. No one will doubt the greatness of New Orleans cooking. But I had no idea. Every meal was wonderful.

For context, I have had other great food that compares, but if it’s a 10, it can’t be surpassed. So, sometimes things have to share greatness. Michael Jordan, Muhammad Ali, Alexander, and Akenoten can be great. Some people and things can’t be surpassed. So, they settle into my mind where all great things go to haunt me, like some nostalgic Instagram, teasing and doping me up to remember places I can never quite get back to, sweet vaporous memories, and smells of succulent food.

Jazz Mass October. 15 at Corpus Christi Church, 2022 St. Bernard Ave.

Burial in St. Louis Cemetery №3 at 3421 Esplanade Ave.

“Like the pancake said to the flapjack ‘stick with me Jack and you’ll go places!”

Æ

Bill Aeric — Bio Site