I joined the Chaissez Ladies because traditional Mardi Gras, as much as I love it, isn’t built with my body in mind.
Parade routes are long. Standing for hours is hard. Navigating crowds takes energy I don’t always have. As a disabled person managing MS, participating in Mardi Gras before I found my krewe felt like a logistical puzzle I had to solve. But Mardi Gras is one of the most powerful expressions of belonging in New Orleans, and I wanted to be part of it.
The Chaissez Ladies are a New Orleans “social rest club” devoted to the art of lounging in style. Each member designs and rides their own motorized chaise lounge—a rolling expression of rest, pleasure, and participation. The mission spoke to me immediately because it treats rest as something public, communal, and worthy of celebration. I need my rest and that rest can be something magical, even glamourous. A gift.
Once I realized I was building something that made public joy accessible to me, my question became: what do I want to bring to share? Because Mardi Gras is also a holiday that is about the joy of generosity– where the parade itself is a gift, but we go even further, and give gifts to those who come out.
The answer, unsurprisingly, was books.
Reading helps me rest, and it also rewards me. It slows me down when my thoughts and anxieties start to race, and it gives me quiet when the world is too loud. Reading restores my curiosity and gives my mind something spacious to land on. Neuroscience helps explain why: periods of quiet rest and inward attention activate the brain’s default mode network, which supports reflection, memory integration, imagination, and meaning‑making.
I want to be clear that reading should not be viewed as a productivity tool or a shortcut to self‑improvement. Research suggests it works best when it’s sustained and engaged—paired with reflection over time, not rushed or instrumentalized. In other words, reading thrives under the same conditions as rest.
That connection—between rest, reward, reading, and reflection—is what turned my chaise lounge into The Bookmobile.
We often think of reading as private: something quiet we do alone. But reading is also social. It builds empathy, supports civic participation, and strengthens our ability to navigate complex systems. Literacy is increasingly understood as a public‑health issue, not just an educational one, because people who read are better equipped to care for themselves and participate in their communities.
New Orleans already understands this logic. This is a city where culture lives in the street, where Mardi Gras isn’t something you watch—it’s something you make with your neighbors. Bringing books into that tradition feels natural. What if we considered that reading is one of our shared rituals of care and delight?
This year, that love of reading is having a perfect cultural moment. Watching Wuthering Heights re‑enter the collective imagination ahead of a new film adaptation is a reminder that great stories are never gone. They wait and return when we’re ready. As one TikToker put it: reading Wuthering Heights is like eavesdropping on the most unhinged gossip you’ve ever heard. It has felt like that for readers for almost 180 years. What a wild truth.
In honor of Emerald Finnell’s interpretation and our shared excitment, this Mardi Gras all my throws are bedazzled Brontës—Emily front and center, with Charlotte and Anne along for the ride. If you’re catching Iris or Orpheus, let me know where you’ll be. I will have a special edition waiting for you.
I love driving the Bookmobile, and I hope it gives others inspiration to rest and read and reimagine. It’s adaptive technology, and it’s also my love letter to my city, my profession, and myself. Mardi Gras wasn’t made for my body, so I made a different Mardi Gras with my krewe.
I cannot wait to see what you make with yours.