✨Laissez le bon temps rouler … Even When the Bon Temps Ain’t Rollin’”✨

✨Laissez le bon temps rouler

… Even When the Bon Temps Ain’t Rollin’ ✨

Written by Kateb Shunnar

Lemme tell you something, baby, life ain’t always Mardi Gras parades and zydeco bands playing under the live oaks. Sometimes life is just a busted trumpet on Bourbon Street, blowing notes nobody asked for, and you gotta shake your head, sip your chicory coffee, and laugh anyway because crying won’t fix the horn and neither will complaining. I been through my share of Katrina level messes, Georgia shenanigans , and the kind of small stuff that feels like it’ll swallow your whole day like a gumbo pot gone wild. And yet here I am, still breathing, still thinking maybe just maybe the universe got a sense of humor, even if it ain’t the same one I got.

See, my grandmother Celestine didn’t have time to fuss about things she couldn’t change. When Katrina tossed our lives around like loose Mardi Gras beads, she ended up all the way in Oklahoma. I was in Georgia trying to make sense of my own displaced mess, holding a phone like it was a lifeboat. We couldn’t sit together, couldn’t share a pot of her magic gumbo, couldn’t even wave across the yard. But one afternoon, she picked up that crackly phone and said, child, let me tell you something. Some folks are like four leaf clovers, hard to find, lucky to hold. And child the way she said it, like she reached straight through all those miles, it stuck to my ribs like roux. I hung onto her words like a good luck charm because they were medicine. And just like that, even from Oklahoma, she reminded me that what really matters don’t need a parade or a trumpet to show up.

That’s the thing about life, it moves, sometimes slow and muddy like the Mississippi, sometimes faster than a crawfish boil in July. You gotta remember the past can’t be rewound. Opinions, no matter how loud, don’t define you. Folks will judge you all day long and honestly that says more about them than it does you. Overthinking, bless your heart, will only drag you into sadness faster than a leaky pirogue sinks in a storm. And happiness, baby, it ain’t hiding under your bed. It’s inside you, hiding like a stubborn alligator in the bayou, waiting for you to spot it.

I learned the hard way that positive thoughts ain’t just fluff. They do things like making your coffee taste better, making the sun feel warmer, or making that stranger on Canal Street smile back. And that smile, contagious. Like laughter at a second line parade, once it starts, it spreads. Kindness don’t cost a dime, but honey, it pays interest in ways you can’t imagine. Quitters, child, they miss the whole show. Life only really fails you if you throw in the towel. And karma, oh she always comes back to town, so don’t get cute thinking you can skip your turn.

I remember what my mother Marva used to say, probably rolling her eyes while I acted all dramatic, I may not always be there with you, but I will always be there for you. And it’s true. Family, friends, the folks that stick, they’re like stars. Can’t always see them, but you know they’re out there. And sometimes the best people don’t show up with fanfare, they arrive quietly, make your life better, then disappear like they always belonged there anyway.

Some mornings, I wake up, stretch like a cat on the bayou, and just go down my To Do list. Smile. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Think positive. Inspire. Care for others. Be grateful. Be happy. And sometimes I add a little extra, laugh at myself before anyone else can. Control yourself, baby, alter your thinking, delete the negativity. It’s simple, but Lord, can it feel impossible when everything around you is tripping over itself.

I keep this little Southern wisdom tucked in my back pocket. Life is like a camera. Focus on what’s important. Capture the good times. Develop from the negatives. And if it don’t work out, take another shot. You miss every gumbo pot you don’t stir, every parade you don’t join, every smile you don’t share. You gotta keep trying, keep moving, keep believing the rhythm’s still there, even when it ain’t.

And now, lemme tell you a little story, a piece of folklore my own imagination cooked up while sipping sweet tea on a muggy afternoon. There was once a gator named T Bone who lived in a swamp so thick you could lose your hat and never see it again. T Bone had a peculiar talent, he could make folks laugh just by splashing around. But he was shy, hid behind cypress knees, thought nobody noticed. One day, a storm came, tossing cypress knees like toothpicks. All the animals panicked. But T Bone, he just started dancing, twirling, flapping his tail. Slowly, one by one, everyone joined him, laughing and slipping in the muck. By the time the storm ended, they all realized, T Bone didn’t just survive the storm, he made it unforgettable. Sometimes, that’s life, find your inner T Bone, start splashing, make the storm yours, and watch everybody else catch the rhythm.

So, yeah, life is messy. It’ll throw hurricanes, spilled coffee, lost keys, and heartbreak your way. But somewhere between the zydeco notes and the gumbo spice, between the laughter and the tears, you realize something important. You don’t need everyone’s approval. You don’t need the past to be perfect. You need a little courage, a little stubbornness, and a willingness to see the beauty hiding in plain sight. You need to let the good times roll, even when the bon temps ain’t rolling. And honey, if you can do that, you might just find yourself dancing through life like a gator on parade, smiling at the chaos, holding tight to the people that matter, and laughing so hard you forget the storm ever happened.

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