Butte La Rose

Bonjour!
When we were in the fields picking cotton and peppers, or any work done in the fields back in the 1950s, do any of you out there remember fighting with mosquitoes while we picked? I don’t remember mosquitoes like we have now during those days. Even in the 1940s, when we’d go meet papa in the fields.
Well, we got them now. Gee! I do remember sometimes sitting on the porch at night, there they’d attack us by the millions. And we’d sit there in the dark with rags to smack them off of our backs. Pooyie!
Living out here at the edge of the woods there are so many I can’t walk out in the yard without first putting repellent on my arms and legs or the little blood-sucking useless worthless bugs with extended square beaks would drain me of my blood. I wonder if anyone will ever build a mosquito catcher? We could catch those and feed them to the snakes around here. El sont partout.
I remember a time about 1952, for Mom Alcide’s (my grandmother) birthday, a big homemade ice cream party was secretly planned for her at their house in Catahoula Cove one afternoon. Plans had been made for several sabotières to be brought by family members along with big wash tubs of ice and ice picks to break the ice and salt to pour on the ice to prevent it from melting too fast. Of course when everyone began arriving Mom Alcide knew what was going on, so she was not be confused with everyone showing up like that. She was happy to have her company of family arriving. I still remember her standing on the porch with a big grin and her hands and fingers clasped together across her chest. She thanked everyone for coming. Pop Alcide was helping the ice cream churners and talking away.
That was a fun late afternoon that went into the night. There were wall-to-wall grandchildren. We played tag, chasing each other around the yard and playing hide-and-seek.
This was way before the era of plastic plates and cups, so each family had to bring their own bowls and spoons. Sacks and rags were put on the top of the sabotières and each one of us kids took turns sitting on the tops to secure and keep them from toppling over. Fun was being had by all.
Lets see if I can remember: there were the families of Pokit and Lut (my papa and mama), Nonc Tanno and Tante Jeanne, Nonc DaDa and Tante Sophie, Nonc T-Alcide and Tante Bubbie, Tante Yut, Nonc Louie and Tante Marie or Poulutte, Nonc Pete and Tante Nennin and Nonc Milo. Hope I did not leave anyone out.
These are the pet names they were identified with and known as. If a stranger would have come to Catahoula looking for them using their real names, locals might not have known who they were. As they did with my papa – his nickname “Pokit.” But after his death was announced in the local newspaper as “Mayer Pokit” then the connection was made.
So then when the ice cream was ready and everyone was serving it from their own sabotières to their kids, Mom Alcide stood on the porch with the announcement that I had come by earlier that day and told her about the secret surprise ice cream birthday party happening that night for Pop Alcide. But it was her birthday and her party instead! I let the cat out of the bag. Some had wondered why she was not surprised. Then they knew.
Thank you to my cousin Dennis Courville for the delicious catfish! Amètie à tout.

Cousine Hélène
337-280-1988.
helenboudreaux@juno.com.