Advocate Obituaries Past 7 Days New Orleans
So, I was strolling down St. Charles Avenue the other day, sipping on my chicory coffee, when I noticed something peculiar. The old guy who usually sits on his porch, whittlin...
So, I was strolling down St. Charles Avenue the other day, sipping on my chicory coffee, when I noticed something peculiar. The old guy who usually sits on his porch, whittling away at some wood, was nowhere to be seen. His porch was empty, save for a couple of squirrels fighting over a pecan. I asked old Mrs. Leclair next door if she knew where he was, and she just shook her head, "He passed, cheri. Last week." I was taken aback. I'd seen him every day for the past year, and I hadn't even known his name.
That got me thinking, you know? In this city of a million stories, how many of us are just passing through, oblivious to the lives around us? And then I remembered, there's this thing called the Advocate Obituaries. It's like the city's way of saying, "Hey, here's a chance to pay your respects, learn something new, or just take a moment to appreciate the lives that made this place what it is."
What's the Big Deal About Obituaries?
Well, let me tell you, friend, obituaries in New Orleans are not your average, run-of-the-mill death notices. No, sir. They're a window into the soul of the city, a testament to the lives lived here, and a reminder that every person has a story worth telling.
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Take, for instance, Mr. Antoine "Tony" Leclair, the guy from my story. Turns out, he was a jazz musician, played the trumpet. He was in the marching band at Southern University, and he even played with the likes of Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald back in the day. I mean, who would've thought, right? The guy I saw every day, whittling away on his porch, was a legend in his own right.
So, What's Been Going On in the Past Seven Days?
Well, let's take a little trip through the Advocate Obituaries from the past week, shall we?
Elvira C. Rego, 74, of Hudson | Obituaries | communityadvocate.com
Ms. Marie Laveau III passed away last Tuesday. Now, if you're a local, you know that name. She was the great-great-granddaughter of the original Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau. She was a voodoo priestess herself, and she kept the tradition alive, right here in the French Quarter. Her story is a piece of our city's history, and it's a shame we didn't get to hear more of it.
Then there's Mr. Joseph "Joey" Catalano, who passed away last Thursday. He was a butcher at the old Catalano's Market on Magazine Street. That place was a New Orleans institution, and so was Joey. He was known for his charcuterie, but more importantly, he was known for his kindness. He'd give anyone in need a pound of his best sausage, no questions asked. That's the kind of spirit that makes this city what it is.
And how about Ms. Lucille "Lucy" Washington, who passed away last Saturday? She was a civil rights activist, a teacher, and a mother to seven children. She was a force to be reckoned with, and she dedicated her life to making this city a better place. Her obituary was a reminder that change doesn't come easy, but it does come, one strong-willed woman at a time.
A harsh reminder: 8-plus pages of obituaries in Sunday's Times-Picayune
Why Should You Care?
Because, my friend, every one of these people is a piece of our city's puzzle. They're the musicians who make the music, the cooks who make the food, the teachers who make the thinkers, and the activists who make the change. They're the ones who make New Orleans, well, New Orleans.
So, next time you're walking down the street, or sipping on your coffee, or just going about your day, take a moment to remember. Remember the lives that came before us, the lives that are still here, and the lives that are yet to come. Because every one of us has a story, and every one of those stories matters.
And if you ever want to know more, just pick up a copy of the Advocate Obituaries. It's like a who's who of New Orleans, past, present, and future. And who knows? You might just find a familiar face, like old Mr. Leclair, and realize that you were lucky enough to know him, even if it was just from a distance.
