Butte La Rose

Bonjour!
A Mrs. Robin from Butte La Rose (don’t remember her first name) had mentioned to us voting commissioners at the precinct on our last election that she donated a flag to the Butte La Rose fire station some time back with the promise it would hang on their wall. She looked around the room in search and asked us where is it. Of course we do not know the answer as to where it is or know anything about it. What’s important to her is that she contributed her souvenir flag with autographed names wanting to share with her community. A very kind gesture on her part.
She also reminded us of the attack in New York City on Sept. 11, 2001, which killed thousands. And remember that at that time when this horrible catastrophe happened St. Martin Parish donated a fire truck to their city. I am hoping to talk with her soon so I can finish her story.
Someone posted a group picture of the “Catahoula Lake School Grade One” on Facebook from when I was in first grade. I love it. This was a time in life that none of us knew that there was a word such as “poor.” Life was good, being happy with what clothing we had on our backs and food on our table. It was our happiest time in life.
We had not yet discovered electricity. Kerosene or coal oil was our light in the house at night. Our food came from what we grew in our fields or fished from our Catahoula Lake. I did not get my first pair of shoes yet till a couple of years after this picture was taken which was back in 1945 or 1946.
I recognize some of the kids. On the bottom row are the girls, all wearing dresses even though some of us were barefoot. Two of them were wearing shoes. Probably their Sunday church shoes. In those days girls wore dresses only. I can only recognize Mary Lou Louviere, Elmire Borel and Lucy Blanchard out of seven. The boys outnumbered the girls 16 to seven. Of the boys, I only recognize Clennis Lasseigne, Allen Theriot and Jerry Theriot.
From the looks of confusion on our faces that day was easy to see that we did not know what the heck was going on. None of us were smiling, only looking serious. It was a cloudy day – no shadows. One is to wonder how in the world the teachers got us all together, at the same time, in the same place and in that order to take a picture.
Our teacher had a pleasant look on her face. Probably silently begging God that He keep His little “wild ones” silent and in place long enough till the picture be taken. To begin with hardly none of us at school spoke English. And none of these teachers spoke French. Yet we all got along very good. Fights seldom happened at school. Of course if you’d have done anything at school deserving of a whipping by Principle Daspit, then rest assured you’d get another one by your papa when you’d come home. And also everyone was related to everyone. I am still realizing relatives of mine around this area.
I did fail first grade. I suffered much with asthma. I don’t hear of children being severely sick and having this horrible illness any more. I would not wish that on anyone.
One of these days I’ll go sit with Jun Blanchard and pick his brain for memories. Henderson has much old family histories also.
Spring can’t come soon enough!
Cousine Hélène
337-280-1988.
helenboudreaux@juno.com.