Second-lines always seem to start with a feeling of exuberance. The beat of the music and the excitement of starting on a journey that will pass through different neighborhoods and which will lead to meetings with other clubs has a lot to do with the joyfulness I feel at the start of a second-line, and this one had a fairly large crowd of participants, and was being led by my favorite brass band, the TBC. But from time to time, people would hold up signs against violence, a stark reminder of the tragedy only a few weeks ago when a second-line was broken up by a violent shooting on Mothers’ Day. 19 people were wounded, including a second-line activist and journalist named Deborah “Big Red” Cotton, who had done so much to document the second-lining culture and to promote understanding of it by those from the outside. Frankly, I wasn’t expecting any kind of repeat of the violence on this particular day, but the signs reminded us of what had happened, like a cloud passing over the sun. Otherwise, we might have gone on our merry way with the music, and the sunshine, and the vendors and dancing, and never recalled the innocent victims from just a few weeks ago. Such are the hazards of pleasures.
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