We continued to Coteau Holmes, a beautiful serene settlement near the Atchafalayya basin. I noticed a familiar blue building where I partied with my friends in the Seventies. Pete's Lounge used to be a local establishment that hosted dances on weekends.
Every year Pete, the proprietor, hosted the "Annual Grosbeck Festival." According to my sister Wanda's observations,this two day event of drinking, dancing, and carousing, and Motown tunes by local bands entertained the crowd.
As a business owner in a small, rural fishing community, Pete found a way to generate extra income and provide entertainment to locals. The Grosbeck, a protected, but not endangered bird, provided hunters with prey to hunt and plentiful, tasty game to festival goers.
The irony was that years passed before weekend festival participants realized this Mexican State bird that migrated to the Louisiana swamp was protected by federal law.
A $2,500 fine and five years in prison was the punishment for this felony crime. Imagine lots of 20+ year old Cajuns drinking Jax beer, snacking on gratons, gyrating to Aretha, Stevie Wonder, James Brown, Marvin Gaye, Isley Brothers, Jackson Five, Gladys Knight, and Sly and the Family Stone, and chomping on grosbeak with rice and gravy.
The festivities started inside Pete's bar but spilled out into the dirt parking lot. Some obscure party goers including my friend Lena, dangled from tree branches pie-yi-ed out of their minds.
The attire for the evening in the sweltering heat included wife beaters, t-shirts, jeans, tank tops and shorts.
I told AMD I had to get out of the car to search for a tank top I lost there at the festival. She was not amused. Perhaps I ate too much grosbeck that night. I think it made me loopy.
I continued to the levee where I almost crashed into a car as I raced over a one lane bridge I got there first. That land yacht Cadillac should have stopped. Mable almost fainted.
Reaching the levee, I was brought back in time to Levee Ransonet's camp where my family attended picnics.. I remember trying to lift the top on a circular aluminum ice chest, and i slammed it under my chin. I chipped a tooth.I was thirteen.
Dr. Hebert, the town dentist, and his cohort, some red-haired woman, capped my tooth. I swear the needle he used to deaden my gums was a relic from the caveman era.
As I drove by camps alongside the levee, I noticed Lake Dauterive peeking through the trees. I couldn't breathe. I have many special memories of visiting the levee. So many familiar places that I remember there.
I got down from the car, as we Cajuns say, and stood for a moment as I recalled couples swimming and skiing at the sandbar, where one of my special friends taught me to ski. Vance Breaux transported us there in his boat. We had so much fun basking in the summer fun.
I returned to the car and asked Mable when we would get to the blacktop road. She laughed. "Pat, you grew up here. You're driving on the blacktop." I had a flashback about Main Street in Loreauville being blacktopped in front of my house. In summer, When we walked barefoot across the steamy blacktop, it stuck to our feet and shoes.
I continued to Lake Fausee Point Campground which seemed a beautiful weekend place for families. I made a u-turn and returned to the levee road. I wondered if that road had numbers instead of a name.
I hate that the Department of Transportation decided to change all the familiar names to numbers, like Daspit Road or Darnell road. I noticed a sign that read DIVISION Road on my way to St. Martinville one day, so I suppose some roads escaped the efforts to make these arteries distinguishable on maps.
Later, I noticed what appeared to be a well-built camp or home constructed of cedar.The owner flew a huge Confederate flag. I suppose he was not Republican. A sign posted on the porch read' TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT. SURVIVORS WILL BE SHOT AGAIN. I respected his sense of humor,
I climbed over the fence to get a closer view. Wanda had an apoplectic fit. I shot the picture, no pun intended, and hurried back tto the car. As I drove away, I spotted a white cross in the road across the street. I guess one survivor didn't make it.
I drove back across the one lane bridge and noticed a house built at the edge of the land. Invasive water lilies bordered the shore. The house had a spectacular view of Lake Dauterieve. I thought if I ever built a camp in Loreauville, that's where I would build it.
I drove back to AMD's. One more item scratched off her bucket list. Next time I'm there, in September, I will take her fishing.
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