Louisiana: Plaisance: 2635 at Sunset

2635 Highway 167, near Plaisance, Louisiana.

  

Just as the sun was preparing for setting, I drove by a cluster of irresistibly-picturesque buildings on Highway 167, outside of Plaisance.

Plaisance is in St. Landry Parish, northwest of Opelousas and southeast of Ville Platte. 

The feed store photos are here.

Today is about #2635, which is next to the feed store.

2635 Highway 167, near Plaisance, Louisiana.

A cultural informant told me that the giant numbers on these buildings are for emergency responders.

Put your shades on for this next pic. 

2635 Highway 167, near Plaisance, Louisiana.

Lafayette: Lafayette: Scenes from Festivals de Acadiens et Creoles, #4

I listened to Steve Riley and the Mamou Playboys play. Watched the dancers. Tapped my toes. Slapped my hand on my thigh.

But then all of a sudden I heard the transcendent quality of the fiddle playing. Magnificent.

Here's a 2006 video of Kevin Wimmer (the fiddler in my video above) playing Fiddlesticks with another musician at a Roots festival in Tennesee: 

And here he is with his other band, Red Stick Ramblers, in a 2008 performance in Connecticut:

Speaking of Connecticut, I met an accordionist at the festival, Bill, who lives in Connecticut - who loves Cajun and Zydeco music, and who has been coming to the festival for eight years. He comes on the train.

Louisiana: Plaisance: The Feed Store

Allen Joubert's Feed Store, Plaisance, Louisiana

Driving on Highway 167, just outside Plaisance, as the sun was setting on the first day of standard time, I saw the feed store.

Allen Joubert's Feed Store, Plaisance, Louisiana

Felt good to get out of the car and take some snaps of a building like this. Very New Mexico-ish thing for me to do.

Allen Joubert's Feed Store, Plaisance, Louisiana

Allen Joubert's Feed Store, Plaisance, Louisiana

Lafayette: UL Homecoming Parade

UL Homecoming Parade 2014, Lafayette, Louisiana.

November 1 was the UL Homecoming Parade. Oh, right, there was also a game and other stuff, but I'm all about the parade.

UL Homecoming Parade 2014, Lafayette, Louisiana.

Even the Pope was there.

UL Homecoming Parade 2014, Lafayette, Louisiana.

And, as always, Louisianans really know how to make a parade up nice.

UL Homecoming Parade 2014, Lafayette, Louisiana.

OK, well, I was standing in front of the UL Alumni Center.

Marching bands. My favorite part of a parade. 

UL Homecoming Parade 2014, Lafayette, Louisiana.

 Here's a video from the Opelousas High School Marching Band:

And from the Franklin High School Band. It makes me smile to see how the drummer smiles at :34.

Oh, those drummers.

UL Homecoming Parade 2014, Lafayette, Louisiana.

A slide show:

#30



 

Louisiana: Opelousas: A Holy Ghost Party

Men of Vision, 2014 Holy Ghost Catholic Church Creole Festival, Opelousas, Louisiana

So. Halloween. Not being a trick-or-treater or wear-a-costume sort of gal, my annual strategy is to get out of the house on Halloween and hide out til the littles have completed their rounds.

In Lafayette, it being a party kind of place and Halloween being on a Friday this year, you would surmise correctly if you thought that most getaways included dressing up.

But then I saw the perfect place to go - the 22nd Annual Holy Ghost Catholic Church Creole Festival. The festival is the first weekend in November, beginning on Friday. Gospel music on Friday night.

Here's a video from St. Landry's Parish, focusing on Holy Ghost women making potato pies for the 2011 festival:

I got to hear different styles of gospel music at the church: 

• Rap
• Jazz
• Blues
• and I guess what I'd call the traditional gospel style

Here's a gospel rap song called "Having a Holy Ghost Party," performed at the concert Friday night:

 

And one of the songs from the Mount Olive Baptist Church Men's Chorus:

And from three women whose group name I forget:

There was even a performance of liturgical dance by the youth, and at first, I thought, aha, this is a new idea for me, but wait .... liturgical dance is just a fancy way of talking about sacred dance, which has been practiced in many cultures for eons.

2014 Holy Ghost Catholic Church Creole Festival, Opelousas, Louisiana

Sheesh, didn't I just spend a year in New Mexico, where traditions of sacred dance are carefully protected and handed down through the present generations?
 

2014 Holy Ghost Catholic Church Creole Festival, Opelousas, Louisiana

 
It was a perfect way to spend All Saints Eve.

Men of Vision, 2014 Holy Ghost Catholic Church Creole Festival, Opelousas, Louisiana

Louisiana: New Iberia: St. Peter's Cemetery

 

St. Peter's Cemetery, New Iberia, Louisiana

St. Peter's Cemetery is across the street, sort of, from the Iberia Parish Sheriff's Office.

St. Peter's Cemetery, New Iberia, Louisiana

Fictional Iberia Parish sheriff's deputy, Dave Robicheaux, could look out his fictional office window at the cemetery from the imaginary, but real, office. (Later, when the real-life detectives moved from this building to a new sheriff's building behind the library, fictional Dave moved with them.)

St. Peter's Cemetery, New Iberia, Louisiana

It was a viciously hot day when I visited the cemetery toward the end of July.

St. Peter's Cemetery, New Iberia, Louisiana

Here's what Dave said:

After lunch I drove to the Iberia Parish Sheriff's Department and went upstairs to my office .... From my second-story office window I could look out on a canopy of palm and live oak trees that cover a working-class neighborhood, and behind the cathedral I could see a cemetery of whitewashed brick crypts where Confederate dead remind us that Shiloh is not a historical abstraction. (Tin Roof Blowdown, 2007)

  

St. Peter's Cemetery, New Iberia, Louisiana

I saw this marker (below) and wondered, ah, a relative perhaps? My people include some Courtois. The Hebert name is ubuiquitous here; the Courtois name more rare.

St. Peter's Cemetery, New Iberia, Louisiana

The light was intense the day I visited.

St. Peter's Cemetery, New Iberia, Louisiana

St. Peter's Cemetery, New Iberia, Louisiana

Adjacent to the cemetery was some sort of machinery yard. Unlovely. As was the barbed wire fence separating the cemetery and the yard.

St. Peter's Cemetery, New Iberia, Louisiana

Louisiana Lit: Dave Robicheaux' Music

Songs marked important periods in Dave Robicheaux' life.

Who is Dave Robicheaux? 

He's the protagonist in 20 books written by James Lee Burke, a New Iberia, Louisiana, writer.

Dave is a homicide detective in New Iberia, Louisiana. Cajun. Recovering alcoholic. Vietnam war veteran. A man who marries. A father.

You can read more about Dave here. And what he thinks about north Louisianans here. And alcohol here. And some music here. On human exploitation here. On Angola here. On Louisiana's shadow self here. And on police violence and our complicity in same here. (My selections might give the impression that Dave Robicheaux (channeling James Lee  Burke) is a real downer about South Louisiana. Of course, Dave Robicheaux is a homicide detective, so that has an effect on the topics he talks about, but even so, Dave's love of Louisiana, the people, and culture do shine through.)

Dave's music

I've now read all 20 of the Dave Robicheaux books, and I'll roll out some more posts on same. But here's my round-up of Dave's music.

Dave talked about four songs in the last book I read (not the last Dave Robicheaux book),  Creole Belle.

The first is called Beat Me Daddy Eight to the Bar, by Will Bradley:

Then there's Just A Dream, by Jimmy Clanton:

And Faded Love, by Bob Wills:

Bob Wills' San Antonio Rose played a role in the book:

James Lee Burke, by way of Dave Robicheaux, has introduced me to music I wouldn't have otherwise known.




Other songs from prior posts:


From Louisiana Lit: Dave Robicheaux and Some Fine Music (March 2014):

Dave on some fine music of his youth

From Jolie Blon's Bounce (2002):

"The lyrics and the bell-like reverberation of Guitar Slim's rolling chords haunted me. Without ever using words to describe either the locale or the era in which he had lived, his song re-created the Louisiana I had been raised in: the endless fields of sugarcane thrashing in the wind under a darkening sky, yellow dirt roads and the Hadacol and Jax beer signs nailed on the sides of general stores, horse-drawn buggies that people tethered in stands of gum trees during Sunday Mass, clapboard juke joints where Gatemouth Brown and Smiley Lewis and Lloyd Price played, and the brothel districts that flourished from sunset to dawn and somehow became invisible in the morning light."

Clarence Gatemouth Brown. Source: wikipedia

Here's the song Gatemouth Boogie, which Mr. Brown says he made up on the spot one night during a performance, when he stood in for an ailing T-Bone Walker:

Here's a song by Lloyd Price - Stagger Lee:

From Louisiana: Angola and... (April 2014)

 

Angola prisoners. Credit: Angola Museum

Angola is the Louisiana State Prison.

Like a few other American prisons - such as Alcatraz, Folsom, Attica, Rikers - its infamy also elicits a perverse ... awe? reverence? pride? I don't know, but whatever it is, it says something uncomfortable about humans. 

Dave Robicheaux on Angola

(See references to fictional homicide detective, Dave Robicheaux here, here, here, here, and here.)

From Jolie's Bounce (2002): 

It is difficult to describe in a convincing way the kind of place Angola was in the Louisiana of my youth, primarily because no society wishes to believe itself capable of the kinds of abuse that occur when we allow our worst members, usually psychopaths themselves, to have sway over the powerless.

For the inmates on the Red Hat gang, which was assigned to the levee along the river, it was double time and hit-it-and-git-it from sunrise to sunset, or what the guards called "cain't-see to cain't-see." The guards on the Red Hat gang arbitrarily shot and killed and buried troublesome convicts without missing a beat in the work schedule. The bones of those inmates still rest, unmarked, under the buttercups and the long green roll of the Mississippi levee.

The sweatboxes were iron cauldrons of human pain set in concrete on Camp A, where Leadbelly, Robert Pete Williams, Hogman Matthew Maxey, and Guitar Welch did their time. Convicts who passed out on work details were stretched on anthills. Trusty guards, mounted on horseback and armed with chopped-down double-barreled shotguns, had to serve the time of any inmate they let escape. There was a high attrition rate among convicts who tried to run.

(links added)

'course, when I thnk of Angola, I think of the old state prison in New Mexico, site of the massacre at the 1980 New Mexico State Penitentiary Revolt.

And of the growing unsettledness about solitary confinement of our prisoners.

Which brings me to this March 2014 article in The Guardian:  Why Do We Let 80,00 Americans Suffer a 'Slow-Motion Torture of Burying Alive'? The article compares the experience of Sarah Shroud, who spent 13 months in solitary confinement in Iran, with that of American prisoners who face similar conditions for the indefinite future.

You can read more about solitary confinement here. 

Louisiana Lit: Dave Robicheaux and The Beautiful Whore Called Louisiana

Dave Robicheaux sees Louisiana as a woman who is ravishing and who is also a whore. Dave and I don't always see eye to eye on the subject of women, but that's a conversation for a different day.

Who is Dave Robicheaux? 

He's the protagonist in 20 books written by James Lee Burke, a New Iberia, Louisiana, writer.

Dave is a homicide detective in New Iberia, Louisiana. Cajun. Recovering alcoholic. Vietnam war veteran. A man who marries. A father.

You can read more about Dave here. And what he thinks about north Louisianans here. And alcohol here. And some music here. On human exploitation here. On Angola here. On Louisiana's shadow self here. And on police violence and our complicity in same here. (My selections might give the impression that Dave Robicheaux (channeling James Lee  Burke) is a real downer about South Louisiana. Of course, Dave Robicheaux is a homicide detective, so that has an effect on the topics he talks about, but even so, Dave's love of Louisiana, the people, and culture do shine through.)


My definition of a whore

A whore is anyone - man or woman - who debases himself, another human being, or his habitat for money or power that goes beyond his needs.

How Dave views Louisiana as a whore

 ... the irony of falling in love with my home state, the Great Whore of Babylon. You did not rise easily from the caress of her thighs, and when you did, you had to accept the fact that others had used her, too, and poisoned her womb and left a fibrous black tuber grown inside her. (Creole Belle, 2012)

How about oil? Its extraction and production in Louisiana had set us free from economic bondage to the agricultural oligarchy that had ruled the state from antebellum days well into the mid-twentieth century. But we discovered that our new corporate liege lord had a few warts on his face, too. Like the Great Whore of Babylon, Louisiana was always desirable for her beauty and not her virtue, and when her new corporate suitor plunged into things, he left his mark. (The Glass Rainbow, 2010) 

 

In the  state of Louisiana, systemic venality is a given. The state's culture, mind-set, religious attitudes, and economics are no different from those of a Caribbean nation. The person who believes he can rise to a position of wealth and power in the state of Louisiana and not do business with the devil probably knows nothing about the devil and even less about Louisiana. (Crusader's Cross, 2005) 

In Louisiana, which has the highest rate of illiteracy in the union and the highest percentage of children born to single mothers, few people worry about the downside of casinos, drive-through daiquiri windows, tobacco depots, and environmental degradation washing away the southern rim of the state.

Oil and natural gas, for good or bad, comprise our lifeblood. When I was a boy, my home state, in terms of its environment, was an Edenic paraidise. It's not one any longer, no matter what you are told. When a group of lawyers at Tulane University tried to file a class action suit on behalf of the black residents whose rural slums were used as dumping grounds for petrochemical waste, the governor, on television, threatened to have the lawyers' tax status investigated. The same governor was an advocate for the construction of a giant industrial waste incinerator in Morgan City. His approval ratings remained at record highs for the entirety of his administration.  ..... Last spring, when the wind was out of the south, I could stand in our front yard and smell oil. It was pouring in black columns, like curds of smoke, from a blown casing five thousand feet below the Gulf's surface.  (Creole Belle, 2012)

To add to the above excerpt (related to the 1980s), a quote from Oliver A. Houck in his article, Save Ourselves: The Environmental Case that Changed Louisiana, published in the Louisiana Law Review, Winter 2012:

"Louisiana corporations, led by the oil, gas, and chemical industry, continue to perceive environmental policy as a nuisance, and Louisiana agencies continue to see these agencies as their clients. Neighborhood and environmental groups are still “others” in the equation. We are still Louisiana."

In 2010, from the article Kneecapping Academic Freedom, published by the American Association of University Professors in its November-December 2010 journal:

... the Louisiana Chemical Association (LCA) pushed for legislation, ... that would forfeit all state funds going to any university, public or private, whose clinics brought or defended a lawsuit against a government agency, represented anyone seeking monetary damages, or raised state constitutional claims. The bill also would have made clinic courses at the state’s four law schools subject to oversight by legislative commerce committees. The LCA sought the legislation after a Tulane University clinic filed a lawsuit that would have required LCA members to pay millions of dollars in fines for violating air pollution laws. The bill was part of a leaked LCA strategy to force Tulane to drop its environmental law clinic. The strategy included ... getting the governor and congressional delegation to pressure Tulane to close its clinic. ... Legislators debated the bill while oil was gushing in the Gulf of Mexico from BP’s oil rig, and the bill was defeated in committee, although its supporters were unrepentant in defeat and threatened to return with a revised bill that would more narrowly focus on Tulane. [Emphasis added.]

In case you didn't check out the link about that governor and the Tulane lawyers and the Morgan City incinerator? That was four-time Louisiana governor, Edwin Edwards. Who served time in federal prison for corruption. And who is now running for Congress.

Current governor, Bobby Jindal, was in office for the 2010 assault against the Tulane Law Clinic.

Rootless: It's Getting to be That Time Again

It's mid-October and my year in South Louisiana is almost up.

It means consolidating spices. I know, I know, this may make some foodies cringe, the idea of pouring leftover spices into one container. Also, I'm not gifted in knowing which spices complement each other, so it's a gamble if it will work out OK. As long as salt is involved, however, it's good enough for me.

Here's my current list of things I'll need to consume, release or decide to keep before I quit my 2014 spell in South Louisiana (notice how carefully I am wording that): 

• Spices (consolidating as already noted)
• Four side chairs
• Folding table (large)
• Full-length mirror
• Mardi Gras beads! 
• Salvaged cabinet
• My wonderful red "bed" 
• Tent + tarp
• Camp stove
• Sleeping bag
• Tea
• Canned soup
• Coozies
• Coffee mug
• Various pots and pans
• Vacuum cleaner (which worked when I left New Mexico and then, inexplicably, didn't when I arrived in Louisiana - probably an easy fix)

For now, I'll keep these as part of my rootless trousseau:

• Bed linens
• Bath towels/cloths
• Dish towels
• Plastic, child-size plates/cups
• Stainless flatware
• Folding table (small)
• Tension curtain rod
• Fabric shower curtain
• Plastic storage drawers on wheels
• Technical devices
• Shelf stereo
• Two coffee mugs (one from New Mexico and one from South Louisiana)
• Two folding canvas chairs

At the end of November, I'll return to Missouri for a one- or two-month visit before going to my 2015 base (which is kinda open for grabs again). My car will be significantly lighter this year than last.

In September 2013, here were lessons learned in my New Mexico year about furnishing a temporary home. Below are two views of what I packed into my car when leaving Alamogordo:

What I took with me when I left New Mexico

What I took with me when I left New Mexico

If I decide to do another domestic turn for 2015, I think I'll do some of my second-hand shopping in Missouri and carry it with me to my new place. The difference between second-hand Lafayette and second-hand Alamogordo was a shocker, both in price and selection. Second-hand Lafayette is more expensive than Alamogordo and Lafayette's selection of household items is abysmal.


  

Louisiana: Dancing Shoes

At a recent zydeco breakfast event, I admired Miss Kay's red dancing shoes. She let me photograph them.

Miss Kay's red dancing shoes. Lafayette, Louisiana.

A few months back, I needed to buy some new shoes. Never did I imagine that some day I would want to take into account if my new shoes were danceable. But there I was at the shoe stores, checking the smoothness of the soles to see how they'd slide easily over a dance floor.

Miss Kay? Well, she grew up in Alabama, but one day she pulled up stakes and came to Lafayette. She dances.

Lafayette: Scenes from Festivals de Acadiens et Creoles, #3

Jamming at the Festivals Acadiens et Creoles 2014, Lafayette, Louisiana.

Jams are an important part of sustaining the regional culture and, frankly, part of the tourist market. People come from all over the world to jam with local musicians. I say local musicians, but these same musicians have carried the musical message of South Louisiana to all points of the globe, creating new fans, who then make pilgrimages here.

Lafayette: Scenes from Festivals de Acadiens et Creoles, #2

Red accordion and Brazos Huval, Steve Riley and Mamou Playboys, Festivals Acadiens et Creoles 2014, Lafayette, Louisiana.

To show what a cliched small world it is, Brazos Huval featured prominently in this story about Ned the Dog back here, some three years ago, along with its follow-up here.  

Based on my observations this year in Louisiana, I think Brazos plays an important role in bringing up young musicians to the traditional music of the region. He is a member in a number of bands, teaches music, and makes sure his students participate in jam venues.   

Lafayette: Scenes from Festivals de Acadiens et Creoles, #1

Rubboards, Festivals de Acadiens et Creoles 2014, Lafayette, Louisiana.

Rubboards, Festivals de Acadiens et Creoles 2014, Lafayette, Louisiana.

Rubboards, Festivals de Acadiens et Creoles 2014, Lafayette, Louisiana.

Louisiana: Carencro: Mercredi

In the spring and fall, the town of Carencro produces Mercredi in Pelican Park, a free music concert. Generally, the genres alternate among cajun, zydeco, swamp pop, and um, I guess kind of a golden-oldies cover-party type.

The scene below is from the October 8, 2014, performance, graced by a pretty sunset and the astral glow of baseball field lights. Later, the full moon shined its blessing upon the mortal doings. 

Mercredi, Pelican Park, Carencro, Louisiana.

Opelousas: Market and Music: A Pretty Girl

There are a number of reasons why the regularity of my blog posts has faltered, and one of them is that even though I may have gone to a kick-ass musical event, there's only so much one can say about music events. Ditto for photos of musicians. Even the sublime becomes mundane with too much talk about it.

So it is that instead of a photo or description of the eminently entertaining Lil Kenny and the Heartbreakers at the October 3rd Market and Music event in Opelousas, I present to you a picture of a pretty girl at that event, Lorena.

Lorena, Opelousas, Louisiana.

I saw Lorena and did a double-take - something about her reminded me of a beautiful Vermeer painting. Lorena makes me smile just to look at her.

So thanks to Lorena and her mother - a fellow life adventuress, as I subsequently learned - for permission to share this photo.

Louisiana: What They Do in North Louisiana For Fun

Heretofore, my primary cultural informant on northern Louisianans has been Dave Robicheaux, and he's a fictional character. Dave doesn't think much of northern Louisianans.

An actual North Louisianan recently offered me some information about his homeland.

While it may be true that not much drinkin,' dancin,' music-makin' or boudin-eatin' may be going on (and y'all know these are sure-fire fun), let it not be said that North Louisianans don't know how to have a good time.

Three Things North Louisianans Like to Do for Fun: 

1. Poke a wasp nest with a stick and then run like H- E - Double Hockey Sticks

This was a favorite, childhood past-time of my informant. As noted above, my informant is of the male persuasion, information that is probably redundant considering the nature of the activity.


2. Tie a string to a june bug's leg and fly him like a kite.

When the same North Louisianan told me that when he was a child, he and his friends would tie a string around a june bug's leg and walk behind it while it flew, it sounded fantastical, but, damn, it's true! Not just in North Louisiana, but elsewhere. 

Below is a story about this very thing from a North Carolinian. The story is called June Bugs, a page from the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Story, administered by the library of the same name.  I wouldn't normally post an entire story from another source, but this well-told story seems to be on an archive page, and I'd hate for it to be lost in the ethernet. Wish I knew the author's name.

I REMEMBER THE FUN we had during June bug time. These big green bugs appeared from nowhere just about the season that our peaches got ripe.

We would get up early in the morning to hunt June bugs. The only equipment needed was a jar to put them in and string to tie on their legs. We had to be very particular about the kind of string we used because a piece that was too heavy would cut down on their ability to "june," and a piece that was too fine and sharp would cut off their hind legs.

An overripe peach was an excellent place to find June bugs since they like to eat soft fruit. Whenever we spied a cluster of them on a peach, we crept up on them as quietly as a cat stalks a mouse. The poor unsuspecting bugs would be poised with their heads down in the fruit and their fat green bodies sticking up, enjoying a luscious meal when our hands would close over them like a vise. They scrambled madly in our hands. Sometimes the tickling of their tiny feet was too much, and we’d have to let go. Usually, we held on until one or two were deposited in the jar.

After a good number were caught, we selected a big strong-looking bug and tied a string on his hind leg. Then we were ready for him to "june." When we threw him out in the air he would fly frantically in an arc making a buzzing sound. Sometimes one would be stubborn and wouldn’t begin to fly quickly enough to suit us, so we would give him a few hard swings around in the air to stir him up and start him buzzing.

We always evaluated each bug’s ability to "june" because some performed much better than others. As they were put through the selection process, the strings with the best "juners" were tied to a banister or a bush while the auditions continued. Quite frequently, all of the tethered ones would decide to start buzzing and flying around at the same time. This created quite a commotion and became a serious problem.

"Oh!" we screamed as we saw what was happening and then made a dive for them, but we were often too slow. The strings would get tangled in a hopeless mass as the bugs buzzed in and out around each others before we could separate them. In desperation, we would cut them loose and let them fly away, strings dangling behind them like kite tails. Sometimes, the poor things would get caught on a limb or a bush and hang there buzzing madly. If they were not too high up in a tree, we would try to liberate them, but their fate was often to provide a bird with a delectable dinner.

I mustn’t forget the awful stink that accompanied hunting for June bugs. They had a sickening odor that made vigorous hand washing necessary before the smell could be eradicated.

We usually emptied our jar of bugs in the evening, but each morning during June bug time, we would again be on the hunt to replenish the jars with big green bugs.

3. Immigrate to South Louisiana

  

Louisiana: New Iberia: The White Sugar Festival

I was scoping the horizon for things to do this weekend and found the Sugar Cane Festival in New Iberia. Woohoo! Ever since I arrived in South Louisiana last November, I'd wanted to be sure and go to this festival.

Excited, I checked out the bands that were to perform.

Oh. That's odd. Most often, South Louisiana festivals feature a mix of regional music: Cajun or Creole, zydeco, swamp pop, and the occasional oldies cover band. Even venues that highlight only one band at a time tend to rotate the genres.

I don't subscribe to the idea of "black music" or "white music." There's no such thing. (As a friend from another country once said, "people confuse culture with color.") Nevertheless, as I looked at the music line-up for the Sugar Cane Festival, I noticed it was firmly homogenous.

But you decide for yourself:

• Taken Back Yesterday. Rock 'n roll cover band. 
• Spank the Monkey. Rock 'n roll.
• Louisiana Red. Cover band - many genres.
• Wayne Toups. "Zydecajun."
• Bad Boys. "Variety and dance band"
• The Vermilion. unknown.
• Debbie Deb.
• Chee Whiz. "Kiss" cover band.

I can't find images for the Bad Boys or The Vermilion. I don't see the members of Wayne Toups' band. Of the bands where I can see their members, I see one black musician.

The city of New Iberia is 53% white and 42% black. Louisiana at large is 63% white and 32% black.

I perceived an exclusionary subtext in the musical line-up.

Is perception reality? No, of course not. But as they say, "perception is everything." And as I dug deeper to see if I was jumping too early to conclusions, I discovered there is a history of bad feelings surrounding this festival in the New Iberia community. 

Based on my perceptions, I made a decision not to attend this festival.

Rootless: Long Walk: "This Wild Call From Inside Me"

Sarah Marquis. Source: Femina

"After a year, year and a half, I get this urge to go. I get cranky. And my family says, ‘All right, it’s time to go.’"

Source: New York Times, 25 September 2014.

Sarah Marquis is one of National Geographic's Adventurers of the Year for 2014.

The New York Times has a long interview with her in The Woman Who Walked 10,000 Miles in Three Years.

I like reading about women who take long journeys. Some previous examples: 

Rootless Lit: Eighty Days - about Nelly Bly's and Elizabeth Bisland's competitive race around the world in 1889.

Janet Moreland's (a fellow Missourian of a certain age) solo kayak trek down the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers in 2013.

"One Thing That Scares You A Day Keeps Apathy at Bay" with references to Molly Langmuir's solo hike in the Grand Tetons and Cheryl Strayed's solo hike on the Pacific Crest Trail.

Sisters of Sinai: How Two Lady Adventurers Discovered the Hidden Gospels around the turn of the 20th century.

Louisiana: New Iberia: Armless Jesus

New Iberia, Louisiana. Armless Jesus.

Louisiana: Franklin

Franklin, Louisiana.

Behind the main drag, I like the colors and shapes.

Louisiana: Delcambre: Blue Boats

Blue boats, Delcambre, Louisiana. August 2014.

Blue boats, Delcambre, Louisiana. August 2014.

Louisiana: Are You a Teacher?

Oh, how many times have I been asked that since I've lived in South Louisiana!

Strangers ask me this question, and it happened again just last night.

I respect teachers. And because South Louisiana must have more teachers per square inch than perhaps anywhere else in the world, I've had the pleasure of meeting many lovely representatives of the teaching profession here.

I have discussed this "are you a teacher?" question at some length with a local buddy, also a transplant from Not Around Here. He is of the opinion that he can identify a teacher from afar. His claim has some credibility because he used to be a teacher and had ample time to study many females of the species in their natural habitat. Last night I asked him to define exactly how one profiles a (woman) teacher, and here's what he said --> A woman is possibly a teacher if she wears a:

• Jean skirt;
• Flow-y skirt; 
• Skirt that falls below the knees; 
• Sandals with wide straps; 
• Gabardine shirt;
• Blouse that is worn over a skirt (i.e. not tucked in); 
• Blouse or dress with a bold print; or
• Shirt that covers her ass.  

He suggested I could probably go online and find websites devoted to what teachers wear. I said I would definitely do this, because based on my experience in South Louisiana, maybe my very own photo is on those websites as a Sample Teacher.

Here are the results of my search on what teachers wear. You be the judge of my buddy's analysis:

Teachers Have Lives, Too

Chioma's Evolution of Style

Pencil Lead and Lace

Again, I love teachers. But it's got to be said that teachers don't have the same panache as, say, librarians.With librarians you never know what they're going to do, like pull off their glasses, let down their hair from that tight bun, and you know, become very un-librarianlike while maintaining their presumed intellect. Librarians are unpredictable, thus a little dangerous. But not teachers. Nope, teachers go to prison for doing what librarians do.

This morning I shared my experience with several women, all of whom are native South Louisianans. I wondered if such queries might even be a local culture thing - maybe other people are approached with conjectures about their profession. Maybe it's just a conversation starter.

The jury's still out on all that, but we considered a couple of new responses to the question:

"Yes! I teach pole dancing! How could you tell?"

Flash a fake badge and say, "No, I'm with the FBI on an undercover operation, and things are about to pop. Move away or you might get hurt."

One of the woman said, "Well, what profession do you want people to think you have?"

Good question. I don't want them to have an assumption about my profession. If anyone is going to say anything, I'd like them to say to me what a stranger said to me in Bernalillo, New Mexico: "You are really having fun, aren't you?" and the answer would be yes.


Note: The fact that I am a teacher is beside the point. 

Lafayette, Louisiana: Sweet Baby Breezus!

Awhile back, one of my kind cultural informants introduced me to The French Press Cafe in Lafayette.

The menu seduces with smooth south Louisiana charm:

I remember my very first encounter with the sensual pleasure of a spoonful of Steen's Syrup. It felt like the shocking rush of a narcotic. Or what I imagine such to be. Not a substance to play with. 

Louisiana: Lake Martin, Late Summer, #3

I like the composition and textures of this scene.

Lake Martin, Louisiana. Septmber 2014.

Louisiana: Lake Martin, Late Summer, #2

There's something about the lilypads on Lake Martin that draws me.

Lake Martin, Louisiana. September, 2014.

Lake Martin, Louisiana. September, 2014.

Lake Martin, Louisiana. September, 2014.

Lake Martin, Louisiana. September, 2014.

Louisiana: Lake Martin, Late Summer, #1

On a recent kayak tour on Lake Martin, I saw water droplets on lilypads that were more beautiful than any designer crystals. If I disturbed a leaf, the droplets moved like liquid creatures across the surface. 

Gad, how difficult it was for me and my companion to maneuver the kayak to the right spot and without movement to get a decent pic! Didn't quite succeed, but these are the best I could get:

Lake Martin, Louisiana, September 2014

Lake Martin, Louisiana, September 2014