Sometimes, if you’re lucky and even if you’re a Koster-sized goofball, the magical sparkles of fate will gently float down upon you like God’s dandruff.

In the spring of 2002, a book I wrote called “Louisiana Music” and the publisher sent me down to the Pelican State in support. It was a cool and generous thing to do although, sadly, all these years later, I think we can safely say the publicity tour did little to change the fact that “Louisiana Music” is probably one of the worst-selling books in history.

However, of the many things I’m grateful for about that experience, a signing at the Autograph Tent at Jazz Fest in New Orleans ranks as one of the truly special experiences of my life. Anyone kind enough to have read my words in The Day over the years probably realizes what New Orleans means to me. It’s my favorite place for a lot of really wonderful reasons — and the music and the musicians, along with the food, the architecture and the city’s omnipresent rhythm-of-life, are a huge part of that.

The fact that I was signing (a very few) books that afternoon was all I could ever ask for — until I looked at the Jazz Fest program and realized that, signing directly after me was Allen Freakin’ Toussaint! The pianist/singer/songwriter/producer, who passed away Tuesday after a concert in Spain, was New Orleans R&B royalty on par with Professor Longhair, The Neville Brothers, Irma Thomas, James Booker, Lee Dorsey, The Meters, Ernie K-Doe and Chris Kenner — many of whom he wrote for.

Indeed, Toussaint composed some of the greatest songs in the city’s history — “Southern Nights,” “Get Out of My Life, Woman,” “Lipstick Traces,” “Ride Your Pony,” “I Like It Like That,” “Working in the Coal Mine” and “It’s Raining” are just microcosmic examples. Too, his songs were covered by an all-are-welcome collective of international stars, including The Who and the Rolling Stones, Glen Campbell, Bonnie Raitt, Boz Scaggs, Phish, Devo and Robert Palmer. Plus, post-Hurricane Katrina, Toussaint, an oft-shy performer, was introduced to a new audience through vibrant and passionate collaborations with Elvis Costello.

Anyway, yes: Allen Toussaint in the Autograph Tent. I was giddy. It wasn’t as though we were signing together — I get that — and never in a million years would I suggest my little book had anywhere near the artistic resonance of Toussaint’s music. But! For that one intersection of circumstance, I dovetailed a tiny bit with as fine an ambassador for New Orleans as Louis Armstrong or Wynton Marsalis or Harry Connick, Jr., with the caveat that, unlike those artists, he never left his city. New Orleans was home.

When my time in the tent was done, I spontaneously got in Toussaint’s already-long line to ask him if he would sign a copy of my own book. It didn’t occur to me that this could come across as cocky or even ridiculous; frankly, I was pretty star-struck.

And, when I shyly held out “Louisiana Music” and explained who I was, Toussaint smiled with Father Christmas benevolence. He was charming and gentle and congratulated me — and cheerfully wrote his signature. He also had the poise not to say, “Hey, moron, why don’t you buy one my CDs and ask me to sign THAT?!”

Two years ago, Toussaint released an intimate live recording called “Songbook,” alternating tunes with anecdotes and backstories. In the middle of the set-closing “Southern Nights” — a distinctly different version than Campbell’s pop-country take — as his hands play the tinkling chords, he speaks about the gestation of the tune; about sitting as a child on a country porch with older relatives, feeling safe and secure and watching silver moonlight spangle as the wind gently nuanced tree leaves.

“It was wonderful,” he says in a lulling voice like a Creole Morgan Freeman, “because I knew that everything that was important in the whole world was on this porch. I felt warm and safe and very much loved and everything was peaceful and nice ...”

And then he went back to that gorgeous, wistful song:

“Southern skies

Have you ever noticed southern skies?

Its precious beauty lies just beyond the eye

It goes running through your soul

Like the stories told of old ...” 

Timeless.: Song AND artist.

r.koster@theday.com

Twitter:@rickkoster