Talk about dead serious.
In New Orleans, where people are buried above ground because most of the city sits below sea level and because the elevated location makes it easier for the dearly departed to vote on Election Day, the 13 Catholic cemeteries in the Archdiocese of New Orleans will be closed for burials the day after Super Bowl XLIV.
Cemeteries Office director Jody Rome, a clairvoyant and unabashed Saints fan, added the holiday to the 2010 schedule back in December as a carryover substitute for another day off that his cemetery workers were unable to take immediately after Christmas.
Rome said he was just thinking ahead.
"This was back in December, when we were on our three-game losing slide," Rome said. "It was way before the playoffs. I told my staff, 'I tell you what, the Saints are going to the Super Bowl in February, so we're going to take off the Monday after the game.' "
While there will be no burials on Monday, Rome will keep the cemetery gates open for people who want to visit their deceased loved ones and offer a prayer. If the week after the Saints' victory in the NFC Championship Game was any gauge, should the Saints beat the Colts many long-suffering Who Dats will show up to place flowers and Saints' memorabilia in front of their loved ones' tombs.
Susan Watts, of Metairie, La., made the special trek to St. Louis Cemetery No. 3 in New Orleans the day after the Saints beat the Vikings 31-28 in overtime. She placed a bouquet of a dozen yellow roses, a helium-filled Saints balloon and a shiny cardboard rendition of a Saints helmet in front of her family tomb. Her father, John Benedict, died in 1994 and her mother, June, died in 1997.
"My parents were original Saints ticket holders from Tulane Stadium, and they just loved the Saints," Watts said. "My mom would never wear a paper bag over her head, not for her Saints. She would have her bags packed ready to go to Miami. My daughter was at the NFC Championship Game, and when she realized we might have a chance to win, she texted me and said, 'Momma, if we win, we're going to the cemetery in the morning.' "
Watts and her family actually got two flower set-ups. The other went to Greenwood Cemetery, where their parents' family friend, Ralph Guerra, was buried. Guerra died in 1986 of a massive heart attack while attending a Saints-Falcons game in Atlanta.
"We're from the generation that was brought up cleaning the cemeteries once a month," Watts said. "Even after 13 years, we're still doing it to make sure everything is OK. It's not unusual for us to bring flowers, but it is unusual to bring balloons. If we win on Sunday we're going to have to have a big, big wreath."
Darrell Coleman, 35, who prepares the tombs for burials at St. Louis No. 3, understands the deep connection between the Saints and their fans. Although he has no tickets to the Super Bowl, Coleman and 15 members of his extended family will be driving to Miami in a three-vehicle caravan later this week, just to be in the same area code.
"They won't see us," Coleman said of the Saints' players, "but they'll know we're out there."
Coleman said watching Saints' kicker Garrett Hartley connect on the 40-yard field goal to beat the Vikings was almost a religious experience.
"Over the years we've had so many people depending on the Saints to make it," he said. "Seeing that ball go through the goalposts was unbelievable. I was in a state of shock. For so many years, that ball went wide right, wide left. I could say that these people that are in here right now were looking at it. They could see it, too. I even thought about my ancestors who were Saints fans. If only they'd been able to see this."
Coleman lost his apartment in a housing project in Gentilly, La., after Hurricane Katrina, and now he lives a few blocks from the cemetery. When Hartley's kick split the uprights, Coleman dropped to his knees.
"I was overwhelmed," he said. "I hugged my television for at least 15 minutes, and I was wondering, 'If I get up from this TV set, will I see the same thing when I get up?' I literally ran outside. What a feeling."
Coleman has the caravan driving plans worked out.
"Actually, I don't know how far it is [667 miles], but I don't care," he said. "It doesn't make any difference. It's going to be real fast. I know it won't be an eternity. . . . I'm going for all the people that weren't here to witness this. I'm representing my ancestors. They're probably celebrating in heaven. They'll probably throw out a tent and throw fleur-de-lis in the sky."
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