Butte La Rose

Bonjour!
James Theriot! Bonne Fète et Happy Birthday goes to our retired St. Martin Parish Clerk of Court. He does not mind everyone knowing he is 81 and grateful for every moment of it. And wishing many more to you my friend!
And also this day was the 32nd year wedding anniversary for Cornell and Shannon Stelly. There was a little surprise happening at their Rees Street Lube when I went by there to change a tire. I asked what’s going on? Shannon said her husband presented her with a necklace set gift. Wow! Sweet!
Now picture this; she has been parking cars and helping changing oil all day long same as she does every day. The temperature was miserably hot, no sign of cooling off anytime soon. She is busy running all around the shop. As I watched her for a while I asked her does she ever run into herself going or coming. She could not remember where she had put my tire she ordered Tuesday. She grinned, nodded her head and said that’ll come next. Ha!
And for this he rewards her with a beautiful necklace set! And no matter how oil soiled both their clothes are, or that she needs pinning her hair back to hide her sweaty hair in all this heat, he presented her with a treasured gift. He is the man! Loves his woman! Any gift, big or small given from the heart means everything to a woman. That is romantic. They are Cajun cool!
Francois, one of my treasured bluegrass musician friends since a couple decades, knows I like writing about our yesteryears. And we all enjoy reading the endless little short stories that we’ll never live again on this earth. Oh, maybe we’ll relive them as we travel to our home beyond the blue. We can relate with Francois. So he sent this and I am sharing a piece of his youth with my readers and recall how things were among us long ago. Francois is 78 years old.
Here goes: “Usually when home repairs were in motion, folks had to stay over with friends. In the country, we always had a full house of relatives sleeping over in our plantation-veranda, motorized-water-source-equipped home.
“It was grandeur – we were the poorest _ yet lived in a huge four-room with water cistern and stained glass doors etc. Yet we were humble – offered others to stay with us and we were already a family of eight at that time. But, we had farm-raised foods like none other – cattle, hogs, chickens, over 200 ducks, and a three-acre truck patch (otherwise known as a garden) with a row of everything.
“Oh yes, and I started hunting and fishing at age 8. A local, Mr. Landry – he must have been in his 60s then, both his kids gone _ would wait to go fishing whenever I had caught a supply of green lizard frogs for bait. He needed me along in case he fell into the huge canal. He was an expert at when to throw the line out by watching the swirls in water movements, catfish was our main catch.
“One day I brought home 13 two- and three-pound catfish. With little room in our small wooden fridge – chilled by a 10-cent block of ice weekly – my mother directed me to walk back towards the canal and along the way give several catfish to neighbors.”
What a life, eh? Today, it’s frozen fish full of chemicals in fancy packaging. Until a boy learns to fish, he remains a boy! Bien merci Francois, strong and well-said. Thanks for sharing.
Readers, got a story to pass along? Here’s the place and now’s the time for it! Don’t have to give your name.
Amètie à tout.

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