Speaking for Pableaux’s extended family, we are astounded and deeply moved by the hundreds of tributes we have seen for my dear cousin from his friends from all stages of his life; from the New Orleans community and the second line community; from the food writing community and the restaurant community and the photography community; from coffee shops and bakeries and national brands; from newspapers, magazines and TV shows; and from anyone and everyone who had the joy of knowing him.

He was a whirlwind of a human being and resided at the heart of our very close family. He talked to at least one of his siblings almost every day and his aunts and uncle frequently. I know he talked to or texted so many of you regularly, too.

Even though he had thousands of friends, somehow he always made everyone feel like they were the most important person in the world. I'm starting to understand just how much energy, effort and focus it took every day to maintain those connections.

He was a true community-builder. We needed more of that in the world. ❤️

Sending love to all who loved Pableaux. I didn’t know him well, but love him still  

I’m an-edge-of-the-party-always-awkward person.  Seeing Pableaux in crowd at any party I was at was always such a relief. He would walk right up to me, greet me with a warm smile, and ask sincerely about my life. His kind, easy manner was contagious. I’ve never met someone who so naturally and beautifully built community everywhere he went  

Thank you to all who made him who he was!

I remember sitting in my uncle’s cozy Louisiana living room, his face beaming with excitement as he handed me a freshly published book on the tribes in Louisiana. The moment I opened it, I was taken back by the beautiful colors, intricate beadwork, and individuality in the patterns. As he told stories of how the tribes would march from the town corners to unite in the center, a comforting aroma filled the air…a pot of black-eyed peas.

Drawn by the smell, I wandered through the charming old house. Being so young, I needed a stool to reach the pot, but that didn’t stop me from giving it a stir while my uncle continued to weave his stories. He spoke of the tradition of unthreading beadwork to recycle beads for new designs each year, a testament to the resourcefulness and creativity of the people.

With gentle hands, he prepared a bowl of the peas and wrapped me into a big, cozy blanket on the couch. As he handed me the warm bowl and the book of stories, I felt enveloped in a blanket of love, history and warmth.

Though my memory fades beyond that moment, the taste, smell, and feel of that day linger with me as vividly as if it happened yesterday. Food, especially, has this magical ability to root me in those cherished memories. This new year was the first time I made his recipe at home in California for my husband. I am honored to have him apart of my life. I am honored to have witnessed his smile. Thank you uncle Paul. Rest in peace. 

When my daughter Mae was born 6 weeks premature, Pableaux (then our neighbor) filled our freezer with gumbo. We didn't even know him that well! He was so unbelievably generous. In the years since, he  has taken countless amazing photos of our family, always weaving through the second line crowds to say hello. When his name popped up on my phone, I knew it was going to be a great photo (sometimes an old one - ah he's looking through his archives today...) or maybe an open invite to come eat. My kids loved Pableaux because he always got down to their level and engaged with them. So many adults don't really pay attention to kids, but he always said talked to them first. And if he snapped their photo, he showed them right away. 

As a fellow photographer, he showed me how to do our work with the highest respect and reverence for the people on the other side of the camera. He was the definition of integrity.

Always a delight to run into, always feeding people, such a joyful soul. We are all gutted by his loss and send our condolences to his many loved ones.

This is the one that counts…the most important thing you’ve done for us. 

When Mike was ending his journey on this planet, you brought him YOUR gumbo, beignets, GOOD coffee, and what he wanted most of all…your company. At his memorial service you held me up & said, “Sweetie, he’s playing music with the big ones now!” I couldn’t have asked for more. Thank you, my son.

Rest in peace & Fly high.