For the first time in a dozen years or so, Sunday, I went to Shreveport’s Red River Revel.

For all the faults Shreveport has — have you got four hands to count our shortcomings on our fingers?, and toes? — Shreveport does Red River Revels and Mudbug Madnesses and on and on right.

You might not be a Revel and Local Festival guy. I understand. I do not do well among small groups, one on one, medium groups, or Revel-sized groups. Wish I did. I don’t.

And yet the lure of the Revel is a siren song, “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!”

One of my friends who will remain unnamed because naming him would be indiscreet (John James. John James Marshall. My Designated Writers co-founder.) considers it a Badge Of Honor that he has not been even one of the 43 consecutive Red River Revels. (It was a close call this year, which is a story for him to tell if he pleases, and not mine.) Anyway, I think it’s 43. Just 14 more non-JJ Revels and he will have broken DiMaggio’s streak, heretofore thought to be unbreakable! (I don’t think he’ll make it, but time will tell.)

My purpose is to say “thank you” to all the people who make the Revel happen. This includes the little musicians pictured above. Are those cellos? They were in warm-up mode when we wandered in, these precious little musicians who, because of the Revel, get to play in front of people and show off their hard work. I like that.

Plus the Revel is all the volunteer groups selling food and drinks to benefit a cause greater than themselves, a high school band or service club or church. God bless them.

And the artists. How do they do that? People will surprise you if you give them a chance.

PS: The T-shirts this year were the best Revel tees I’ve ever seen. If I hadn’t been financially embarrassed, I’d have bought one. Or four.

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