MY GRANDSON JAKIE

MY GRANDSON JAKIE

     I pick up my four year old grandson Jake twice a week so we can spend the day together. 


     Yesterday on the way to the JUMPY PLACE, I stopped to get him a Smoothie, his favorite drink. He knows the protocol at play place. Remove your shoes, put on a happy face, and start bouncing.


     For a non-stop hour he jumped and cavorted on huge, inflated bounce houses, dived into a spongy ball pit, and jumped on a trampoline. His energy is limitless. He protested when I said time was up, then he ran to me, and said Grandma, I love you.


     You would think that this affection is a bribe, but that is simply his character. During play he introduced himself to every other child in the place, helped a toddler climb up a plastic tree, and waved to me every five minutes.


     After lunch at Chik Fil A, I drove to Target so he could buy a CAPTAIN AMERICA toy. I felt guilty because last week he wanted to see CAPTAIN AMERICA at the movies, but I took him to see SPY KIDS instead, fearing that the PG rating on CAPTAIN AMERICA meant bad language.


     I told him how much he could spend. He picked out a blue CAPTAIN AMERICA helmet that covered his entire face except his eyes. All the way to the cash register, he threw imaginary rays at customers and yelled I AM CAPTAIN AMERICA.


     Back in the car, I set my Droid on video tape, reached over to the back seat and handed it to him. I told him I would interview him, and heres how it went.


Who are you? I AM CAPTAIN  AMERICA!


What do you do? I SAVE THE WORLD FROM BAD GUYS.


Where do you get your strength? I EAT WATERMELON! AND STRAWBERRIES!


Who are your friends? THOR AND YANK!


How do they help you? THOR HAS A HAMMER AND YANK MAKES HIMSELF A GIANT!


How long can you fight bad guys? WHEN I DRINK WATER, ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT!


. . . By this time, I was laughing so hard, I had to stop the car. I let him listen to the video 


and he laughed as a child laughs, innocent and pure.


    


      I thought about how last week a parent at his school asked her child the name of his 


black teacher. Jakie said BUT SHE IS BLUE. All the teachers wore blue t-shirts for 


orientation, so that was the only color he saw.

     
     Every child born has innate goodness. How soon adults influence shortcomings and 


prejudices in children. Hang around a child and see how we have sometimes lost our 


perspective.

Does My Butt Look Big?

Does my butt look big in this?


Ask your boyfriend or husband this question, and they will probably lie, refuse to comment, or leave the room. Ask your mother, and she will tell you the awful truth.


Different rules apply to men with large posteriors. No one cares, especially men. If they get teased by other men, they shake it off or knock the shoes off the accuser.


I say that this issue is a matter of presentation.

• Don't wear skin-tight jeans or Daisy dukes.
• If someone compares your butt to Alabama, chances are that you should cover it up.
• Wear black not red. If your trunk is really big, someone might compare it to Mars, the red planet.
• Do not wear large patterned clothing especially not to an interview.
• Do not wear a fanny pack, no matter how much you hate carrying a handbag. Do you know that women's fanny packs have names? Northface, Camel, Mountain, and Bear, to name a few.
• Don't work as a nude model.

Last year Air France announced that if you have "too much junk in the trunk," you will have to buy two seats, but they will only charge  75% more for the second ticket.

Amazon advertises the book DOES MY BUTT LOOK BIG IN THIS BEER? Supposedly the subject is the nutritional value of certain beers.

Sinbad's Just Family episode shows him in the doghouse because he answers this question incorrectly.

DOES MY BUM LOOK BIG IN THIS AD by Lisa Cox addresses the issue of body image in media. Magazines and commercials use models with sunken eyes who look like waifs. Her advice to women:

• Don't compare yourself with other people.
• Celebrate your individuality.  
• Embrace the things that make you unique. 
• Don't judge yourself by physical features alone.

This question has  been asked by women throughout the ages. That's probably how warfare began.

MEDITATION

CENTERING PRAYER AND SPIRITUAL AWAKENING 
------Cynthia  Bourgeault


I read this book because I have attended classes taught by a  good friend who is a Reiki master and Christian who teaches meditation techniques.


I have been retired now for three years, and I have not mastered the srt of slowing down. Thoreau, while living in Emerson's back yard contemplated nature, studied the growth of beans planted outside his dwelling,  and wrote WALDEN, in 1851. He writes,  
"Our lives are frittered with detail," and "We do not ride on the railroad, it rides upon us." Imagine what he would witness and feel if he time-traveled into our society today.


I believe that learning the art of meditation takes time and a regular,  concerted effort. I have practiced mediation for a year now between shopping expeditions and attending to my busy daily life. I have not slowed down enough to attend to something as important as trying to seek God's help  in centering my life through prayer and meditation. 


Meditating at mass two days a week is impossible because of the distractions. I attend perpetual adoration with my husband, but again, I believe true and helpful meditation occurs when we motivate ourselves by a sustained effort to be alone contemplating, praying, and seeking to rid ourselves of thoughts so we can be spiritually connected.


Bourgeault, an Episcopal cleric, wrote this handbook as an introduction to meditative practices and spiritual contemplation and developing the art of being silent and "looking at ourselves in the third person." 


In the first few of thirteen chapters, she discusses the process of beginning meditation and acknowledging God as the Supreme source from which flows strength and goodness and life itself.  She quotes St. Augustine: "God is closer to your soul than you are yourself," biblical passages, functions of meditation in Eastern religions [the Buddhist masters who describe meditation as "developing a mind that clings to nothing," and the beginning of her meditative practice as a Quaker child.

 Her many references to Thomas Merton, a Trappist monk and Catholic writer, and Thomas Keating, the architect of Centering prayer in the late eighties, describe their advice about the process of "leaving thoughts behind,"  clearing our minds, and becoming self-reflective to promote inner healing. She devotes a chapter to Christian spiritual practice and theology centered around Jesus' contemplative teachings, St. Paul's theological reflections on contemplation and gives refers his hymn in Philippians 2:9-16 as the process of "self-emptying." 


Bourgeault gives many examples of real people struggling to achieve the art of spiritual meditation. She refers to the imagery in The New Testament as "the great intercirculation of love." Applying Jesus' teachings and living them "with a sense of honor and commitment can radically transform a person."


In her epilogue Bourgeault describes prayer time as "letting go," the deepening power of prayer in daily life, the heart as "spiritual perception" as seen as the core of the human person in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam," a "catalyst for the purification of the unconscious" and the result as trust and safety experienced in prayer.


Bourgeault ends this treatise on prayer and spiritual awakening with a summation of "finding one's true self":

1. Surrender during prayer time
2. Awareness carried into daily life
3. Regular participation in a spiritual liturgical community

that "will keep [us] grounded in the mystical body of Christ."


Prayer, meditation, and contemplation, while different, all concentrate on communion with the Divine.

KISS, BOW, OR SHAKE HANDS:

KISS, BOW, OR SHAKE HANDS: How to Do Business in 12 Asian Countries by Terri Morrison and Wayne Conway


[China, Hong Kong, India, Indonesia, Japan, Malaysia, Philippines, Singapore, South Korea, Sri Lanka, Taiwan, Thailand, Vietnam.]


When I taught a World Literature/Religions class, students from different cultures registered for my class. We read holy books, epics, and great works from many different culture and historical periods : African,Sumerian, Greek, Roman, Indian, Persian, Arabic, Chinese, and Japanese literature.


To increase awareness of the attitudes, cultural practices, etiquette, and the importance of communication in different cultures, I planned activities in which students could interact and understand cultural values as well as the importance of appropriate interactions.


Although this book was written for the business world,  I used examples from KISS, BOW, OR SHAKE HANDS to impress upon students what to know before they visited Asia and  other resources they could use when visiting other countries.


This text contains cultural I.Q. tests, "Know Before You Go" tips, and alerts on national security issues.


Topics in each chapter include Your Cultural I.Q.; Country Background, Demographics, History, Language, Cultural Orientation, Protcol [ greetings, form of address, gestures, gifts, dress.


For example------VIET NAM

• Greeting; slight bow with hands clasped together at the waist or handshake
• Introduce yourself. It is not traditional for Vietnamese to introduce themselves.
• Good topics of conversation: sports, travel, food, and music
• if a Vietnamese superstition is discussed, take it seriously.
• Vietnamese names are written in this order; surname, followed by two given names.
• Extended public contact between the sexes is frowned upon.
• The foot is considered unclean by many Vietnamese. Do not move anything with your feet or touch anything with your feet except the ground.
• Do not show the soles of your feet or shoes.
• Among Vietnamese Muslims, the left hand is considered unclean.
• To beckon someone hold your hand out, palm downward, and make a scooping motion with the fingers.
• Wagging your finger would be considered an insult.

FROMMER'S and FODOR'S travel guides are more up to date; however, the point of this lesson was to help students realize that we exist in a global society, and it is important to understand, respect,  and communicate in a cultural context with people from other countries.

THE BOOK OF TOTALLY USELESS THINGS

The Book of Totally Useless Things: Over 200 Explanations for the Not-So Important Things  in Life by Dan Voorhees is fun to read. He claims that watching PBS, reading, and collecting interesting stories and information helped him to write this book.


What is the origin of the word posh?
Why is a left-handed pitcher called a Southpaw?
When did it become offensive to extend the middle finger?
What poisonous plants do we grow in our garden that we eat every day?
Why do we say God bless you when we sneeze?
Why is January 1st the first day of the year?
Who was "Uncle Sam"?
Why do cars in some countries drive on the left and cars in other countries drive on the right?
Who was the first "European" to discover the new World?
Why are golf courses called links and why are golf bunkers filled with sand?


You may never lose a game of Trivial Pursuit again if you read this book.


See the Facebook page "The Useless information Society," or check out this website: http://www.uselessinformation.org/ 

WE CAME AS ANGELS

My Catholic upbringing stressed the importance of angels. Michael "the great prince," Gabriel, who told the Blessed Virgin Mary that she would be the mother of the Messiah, and our guardian angels, heavenly spirits assigned by God to watch over us during our lives were all representatives of the spiritual beings that guided and protected us from evil.

When my Dad died, I was inconsolable. After the funeral, I came back to Atlanta and could not shake the grief from my life. I visited a therapist who let me discuss my feelings.

A good friend of mine is a Reiki Master. She told me she could help me meditate. She conducted a two hour Reiki session on me. During the session she summoned Jesus and the angels to comfort me. When I awakened, she told me that nine angels surrounded me. With no knowledge of my extended family, she described deceased relatives who were in the room. I always believed in the power of angels, and I summoned them every time I thought the Devil was chasing me.

I saw this book in a bookstore and was curious about the content of it.

WE CAME AS ANGELS by Kenneth W. Brown discusses the human journey from celestial beings to human beings, and back again. Brown explores the belief about angels as part of many world religions.

One particularly moving episode he recounts is his trip to the pyramids and his precipitous climb, with the help of a guide, on the Cheops pyramid. As the guide instructs him to jump to reach the peak, he plummets into total blackness.

As Brown tries to make sense of the abyss, a bolt of light awakens him. He hears sounds and and sees orbs of light stream by. Millions of years pass like minutes. Different soul orbs introduce themselves. Yawri, a soul light, warns him that physical reality is a different kind of energy. Muran, another soul orb, instructs Yawri to increase his soul light so he can communicate with a simple life form, trees.

Muran mentions that the Creator gave them free will. He says their purpose is to aid life forms are connected to the Creator through an earthly soul and an ethereal soul. They approach crystals that emanate life sounds which the orbs say hold the key to the planet. They say that the vibratory/noisy sound of the planet Earth has become so dense that no one can communicate with earth anymore.

They communicate with trees, crystals, caves, and devas [earth spirits]. They say that the soul does not enter the human baby body until seven years old, a belief the Catholic Church espoused for years. They comment on the poison that mankind is contributing to damage the earth. They say that recent generations that have lost the ability to communicate with life forms such as animals and plants.

They travel to Shamitan’s island island to find four crystal skystones that have documented earth since the beginning of time. Generations ago, they believe, these skystones represented healing centers on earth and sent energy to others.

Tisboro, another spirit, explains the difference between humans [human spirits] and human beings. Eventually all humans will be human beings. Humans are arrogant and hoard. They believe the Creator is outside of themselves.

They travel to the great pyramids, imitations of mountains. They see a new phenomenon: kings and queens. They note that philosophers generate powerful, positive ideas. They recognize that earth has a soul of its own, called Gaea. They witness wars and destruction.

Brown awakens on the pyramid. He noticed tones emanating from the pyramid. His guide tells him that he was asleep for ten minutes. The visions were real.  Brown’s spiritual journey explores “the struggle between bodies and souls, good and evil, spirit and the material world” [Maley] in a narrative that deepens our connection to the earth and to our souls.

SUITS; A WOMAN on WALL STREET

SUITS: A Woman on Wall Street, by Nina Godiwalla was written by a Persian-Indian woman, whose family was Parsi, [people who practiced Zoroastrianism], a religion unfamiliar to residents of Austin.  Nina graduated from the University of Texas. Her father was furious that she graduated with business degree instead of a medical or law degree. Her family had high expectations for her. Her father denigrated her every chance he got, but her mother ignored him and became a supportive force in Nina’s life.

Nina’s grandmother lived with them as many Indian families honored their ancestors. Housing an elderly parent in a retirement community was unheard of. Nina’s grandmother was old school and prepared traditional India dishes made with curry and turmeric that were unfamiliar to Nina’s friends and classmates.

When Nina was in middle school, her teacher planned a party for her class. Students were asked to bring cultural food to share with the class. Nina’s grandmother stayed up all night to bake burfi , an Indian confection. Each piece was shaped like a leaf and decorated with a thin piece of silver paper, individually etched with an Indian design. The pieces were stacked in a pyramid. The students looked at the green food and yelled, “Barf, barf” and said it looked like green puke. Her teacher laid the dessert on the floor near Nina’s her and asked if her mother had forgotten to remove the foil paper. This was just one of the embarrassing incidents Nina suffered in a world of culturally ignorant people in her hometown.

During her stint in college, Nina studied everything about Wall Street that she could find. Determined to acquire a position she applied to several firms and was hired to work with a large firm as an intern. She soon realized that her co-workers were from wealthy families who owned many homes and amassed degrees from universities such as Harvard and Yale and prestigious business schools. She was humiliated by other interns who told her they had never met anyone from Texas.

Determined to succeed despite the sarcasm, Nina studied investment companies, the protocol of Wall Street, including joining her colleagues at fancy restaurants and drinking cocktails she hated because socializing at restaurants and bars proved a necessary way to meet clients and develop camaraderie with her cohorts.

Nina endures the cutthroat, intense culture of Wall Street. She motivates herself to succeed as an investment banker in this “pressure-cooker” environment.

Nina’s story is a heartwarming, humorous read about a woman who manages to succeed in this male-dominated culture of Wall Street.

Glen Oubre-Loreauville Nicknames

                                               

                                                       

    NICKNAMES IN LOREAUVILLE    11-13-07

                                                                                                   

      

 I grew up in the small town of Loreauville, Louisiana which had a population  

of about 500 people in the 1950s and 1960s.  One thing that I remember well,

was that most people had a nickname. I think that it was such a tradition that

during that time period, Loreauville had more nicknames than most small towns

in America.

       How the nicknames came about would certainly be interesting to know and

probably would have a good story behind them. How a name was chosen for

certain individuals varied for different reasons.  One story told was one about

a guy nicknamed Full Choke.  This guy lived on a farm and one morning his tractor

wouldn’t start.  He then got his shotgun and shot the tractor.  Thus he got nick-  

name Full Choke, which pertained to the shotgun and his unique way of punishing

his tractor.

    

       The most common nicknames may have come from a prominent physical

feature, a unique behavior, an interesting habit, an occupation, a place of orgin,

a favorite food, or a past memorable incident.  The names were usually terms of

endearment and made us feel good about ourselves. Others, however, were

mean and cruel, and people were made fun of.  Another interesting fact was that

the name stuck like glue and stayed with us for a lifetime.

                                                             

The names started with the most prominent people like the Mayor.  Forbus                                                               

Mestayer was Mayor of Loreauville for 40 years.  Most people didn’t know him

                                                               

as Forbus, but as Baggasse, which is a term related to sugar cane.  His nickname

like many others was said in French or in a Cajun dialect.

       I sat down and wrote down as many nicknames as could I remember.  The

results were so interesting and intriguing, I decided I would write a poem about

the names: 

                                  Nicknames from long ago in Loreauville,

                                  Gave them their claim to fame.

                                  My friends, my relatives, nearly everyone,

                                  Learned to live with their pseudonym.

                                  The Breaux’s all had nicknames,

                                  Like Mutchie, Te-Boy and Buck.

                                  Jackbean, Chicken and Popaye,

                                  The names forever stuck.

                                  There was also Papoose, Cocoon and Maybe,

                                  Papaloon, and her sister Moon.

                                  And their cousin was known as Fe Fe,

                                  Their aunt was known as Perfume.

                                   My friends all had nicknames,

                                   Like Danky, Joe Gato and Mick.

                                   Pooney ,Butsy Paperdoll and Rock,

                                   And ones named Pegleg and Crip.

                                   There was Sunshine, Smiley and Botch,

                                   Corncob, Whitebean and Bou’let.

                                   Some  animal names like Bull and Frog,

                                   Or Jaybird, Possum, and Cri’ket.

                                   

                                                               2.

                                                                  

                                                                

                                    Shock Absorber, what a name he had,

                                    Full Choke, KanKank, Hadacol too.

                                    White Lighting, Hesitation were some others,

                                    Names these guys had to live through.                          

                                    There was Sue Sue, Cho Cho, and Goo Goo,

                                    Names that all sound the same.

                                    And Me Me, Ge Ge and De De,

                                    These were their claim to fame.

                                    An Ancedote I hear about the Ransonets,

                                    A father and his 2 sons.

                                    They called them Rut-a-Put-a-Ban,

                                    As though they were only one.

                                    My neighbors out in the country,

                                    Were Poon, Too Loo and Toe Joe.

                                    Next door were neighbors T-bic and Ze Ze,

                                    Down the road lived Noonon and Lo Lo.

                                    My Mother was called Maya,

                                    My Dad was named Too Too.

                                    My Brother’s name was Bubbles,

                                    Mr. Clean was mine. It’s true.

       I remembered others like Pooyie, Dot-A-Pa-Tat, Ping Ding, Peanut, Fuzzy,

Stinky and so many other more that I had written down.  Although some of these 

people have passed on, their nicknames have gone down in Loreauville history 

almost like folklore characters.  It was fun for me to go back in the past to

reminisce and recall stories of these people who were part of my life when I was

growing up in Loreauville.               

----Glen Oubre                  

                                                              

                                                               

                                                              

                                                              

                                    

Who stole Main Street in Loreauville?

What happened to Grover’s Corners, and who stole my Main Street on Loreauville?

 The Mom and Pop stores of my youth have vanished! That one mile stretch of Main Street today looks so different. A florist’s shop lives in Nanny Sybil’s house. The store across the street owned by the entrepreneurial Braquet family is gone. Sweet, saintly, mild-mannered Bertha’s house next door may still be there, but sadly, she is not. 

Uncle White’s blacksmith shop is just a memory. I can still see him pounding horse shoes in his wobbly wooden tool shop. He and friends perched near a radio cheering the Yankees on to victory.

Next door at the corner of Lake Dauterieve road and Main Street, my dad’s Humble, then Exxon, then Texaco garage and shop competed with Gam’s garage on the other side of town. Dad sketched and welded prototypes of tools that would maneuver around the nooks and crannies of car engines.  He taught his craft to young teens like Norman Chastant who now owns and operates a successful business farther into town. I helped AMD [my mother] with bookkeeping, a convenient task if I needed to scorch the books to hide gasoline I borrowed to fill my friends’ cars.

On the opposite side of Lake Dauterieve Road, on the same corner, my maternal grandfather, Willie Wickliff Vaughn, owned a General Merchandise store. An early version of Walmart, he sold everything from food to fashion to farmers’ tools. My grandmother made toddler clothing from those flour sacks. I wore four sack designer clothing as a child! Bebe, our neighbor, worked as an employee mostly in the fashion/clothing section of the store. If my sisters and I became rambunctious, waving a red plastic belt, she lovingly chased us out onto the sidewalk. I remember walking from my grandparents’ house across the street facing the store, holding Pop Wick’s hand, as I accompanied him while he rang up customers’ purchases or his office. He wore grey and white seersucker pants in the summer. My grandmother sat on her glass porch and sewed as she viewed the constant stream of daily life as it flowed down Main.

XXX Building Supply, about a block further, smelled like fresh wood. They managed to escape the downturn.

Aunt Tee’s Restaurant, across from LHS, our high school, served Blue plate specials, hearty lunches served with sliced white bread. I remember a bank across the street, but I don’t remember doing much business there. AMD didn’t tell me until I graduated from USL that Vin called her often to tell her I was overdrawn. She deposited more money into my account. I was mortified!

The tiny post office near Aunt Tee’s served our needs rather well. I think it is now an ice cream shop.

On the other side of the street, Champeaux’s Cleaners was very convenient. Such nice people!

Gonsoulin’s Meat Market was a marvel for carnivores! I remember my dad and Pop Jean taking things on hooves to be sliced, diced, and packaged.

I remember a bar next door to the meat market, but the name escapes me.

McHugh’s Pharmacy had no competition, and the family enjoyed a prosperous lifestyle. Billy McHugh was my Aunt Pat’s best friend. A striking brunette, articulate and outspoken, she and Aunt Pat loved Women’s Club, reading, and an occasional game of cards.

T Lee’s, a short order restaurant, also served as a gathering place for teens to play music on the jukebox.

After mass on Sundays, our family stopped into George Andrus Bar for coffee and cokes. Masso’s Café, operated by Nadege and Masso, was another favorite restaurant.

My grandmother and I shopped for beautiful fabrics and sewing notions at Granger’s Store at the end of the mile long Main Street, across from the Loreauville hospital. Mom Wick drove a Bat Mobile, a black Chevy with huge upturned wings on the back. Afraid of crashing into oncoming traffic traveling four MPH on Main, she drove with half the car on the sidewalk and half on the street. People in small towns accommodate peculiarities.

Gam’s Garage, the last business on Main, sat across from Tootie’s Beauty shop, located in a large room in her home. She took me from Buster Brown haircuts to Annie perms.

Walmart, Publix, Home Depot, Sam’s, Costco and malls make me delirious. I could spend days wandering through aisles checking all the amazing merchandise. I forget why I’m there, so I have to enter these mazes armed with a specific list. And where’s the service/ I swear I will bring an air siren next visit.

Then I have to find my car. One time I asked the mall parking lot security guy if I could hop a ride in his little truck to search for my car. After an hour of driving around, I realized I was looking for the wrong car. I had driven my husband’s car that day. I know he loved telling that story.

The Stage Manager in OUR TOWN says to Emily, “Only saints and poets realize life while they’re living it.”

Rampant consumerism and big business have ruined small town America. I have rose-colored memories of my hometown Loreauville as it was when I was a child. That one mile stretch of Main Street was a haven.

DON'T CALL ME A COONA**

That reprehensible word is often used to refer to Acadians or Cajuns from Louisiana, and carries the same obscene, offensive connotation as the N word.

I am shocked when people use that term. I always explain the definition and etymology of the word and watch them dither with embarrassment and offer profound apologies.

The etymology of the word CAJUN derives from the French CONASSE, meaning a stupid person,  a prostitute without medical papers, a woman’s sexual organ, essentially a dirty whore. Linguist Barry Ancelet suggests that this term derived from Cajuns’ occasional habit of eating raccoons, or the notion that Cajuns were lower on the social scale than coons, a derogatory term for blacks.

Cajuns who joined the military during World War II became victims of ethnic discrimination because of their ancestry.  These Louisiana boys, raised in French speaking Cajun environments, had difficulty blending in and speaking Anglo-Saxon English. They were called FRENCHIE or FROG as well, terms denoting ignorance. The irony is that the linguistic abilities of Cajun GIs helped them to become translators, secret agents, Rangers, pilots and heroes.

Robert LeBlanc of Abbeville worked with the French Resistance deep in Nazi territory. Sam Broussard of New Iberia served as an intelligence officer who sat in D-Day planning sessions with Eisenhower. Walter Moulis of St. Martinville was a reconnaissance platoon leader and a battle patrol commander.

Wiltz Segura of New Iberia piloted a P-40 fighter in China with the Flying Tigers. Jeff DeBlanc of St. Martinville flew F4U Corsairs in the Pacific and received a congressional medal of honor for his heroism. Their Cajun names were anglicized into horrific pronunciations. As my name Barras, pronounced BAH-RAH, is often pronounced Bear-a**. Not funny.

To the dismay of Louisianians, some Cajuns used the term coonass as a badge of working class ethnic pride. Ronald Reagan suggested his own appointment as an honorary Cajun coonass.

Calvin Roach, a WWII veteran and mechanical engineer born in Mire, LA, attended a business meeting concerning the suspected theft of company property by employees. During the meeting, two superiors, transplants to LA, blamed the thefts on crooked coonasses .

Shocked and angry that everyone in the meeting knew of his ethnicity, Roach reprimanded his employer, and later engaged in a lawsuit called Roach vs. Dresser, which declared that Cajuns were a federally recognized ethnic group and declared coonass an offensive term.

 In 1981, State Senators Alan Bates, Armand Brinkhaus, and Ned Randolph, introduced a resolution that explicitly condemned coonass as offensive, vulgar, and obscene. Business and media sources were discouraged from using that term in their operations.

The word ACADIAN was regarded by genteel elites as the only proper name for the ethnic group. The term CAJUN became the term of choice, despite its connotation of a lower class person.

Vietnamese, Jews, people of Polish descent, Chinese, Russians, Italians are exposed to ethnic slurs, prejudiced remarks, and offensive slang as well.  The world is getting smaller. We should embrace our differences, be tolerant of others’ ethnicities, and commit ourselves to recognize the diversity of our world. 


Adapted from THE CAJUNS:AMERICANIZATION OF A PEOPLE

FOURBOUR, COTEAU HOLMES, THE LEVEE

      Last week AMD, Wanda, Mable, AMD's nurse drove through Fourbour to visit the area where Mom Wick's family, the Seguras lived. 
       
     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.