Butte La Rose

Bonjour!
Father’s Day! My son Dale Segura and my 16-year-old granddaughter Chelsea living in Mesquite, Texas, drove to Florida last week to visit his brother Steve at the nursing home. It is a far trip to travel by car. And was their first time going somewhere together so they made a vacation event of it as well. Dale drove half the route before stopping overnight and was back on the road early next morning. Chelsea had never been to Florida and wanted to see what the excitement of a Florida beach was all about. And now she knows.
The two brothers had a memorable visit. Among many things, they reminisced of when we lived in Charenton, their teen years, fished catfish trotlines at night in the Bayou Teche. They laughed about secretly drinking beer, but I already knew about it. No harm done, being boys. They were good friends with Charenton native John Paul Darden and his brothers. Some of the Darden girls work at the Casino. There was a big tree on the edge of the bayou with a rope hanging. They’d bet on who could swing and jump the farthest.
On dad and daughter’s return home they swung by here to spend time with me and for a crawfish and catfish fricassee and the traditional potato salad. That was Chelsea’s wish, and boudin! She was enjoying her time bonding with her dad.
Dale can’t come here without finding something to do around the house to help me. Something to say, four of my children, Dale, Blanche, Tina and Bonnie, are always there to help me in one way or another. They’ve got jobs, busy home life and yet always there for me when I’m in need. Needless to say, I had a water leak in the bathroom that he fixed. He fixed the ceiling light in my bedroom. And he repaired five wall receptacles. Sure improved my way of life.
I know we don’t like to bother our young’uns. I’ve made arrangements with Tina every couple of weeks to come with me fill my water jugs at the water plant in Henderson and bring them back here and carry them up on the porch for me. I recall when I was her age, tough me, running trucks, manhandling those 82-pound stainless steel hoses to load and unload my tanks. Don’t like to admit defeat, now an eight-pound gallon of water jug is heavy weight on my legs. Tina is a tough little gal. Hubby Chene’ll tell you.
Father’s Day has done come and gone again. I still feel my papa’s presence close by. No matter how old you’ll get sometimes bow your head, reminisce back to the years you were that child standing by your papa. And he seemed a tall giant with words of wisdom to say. You’ll never forget the times watching him going au clos behind a horse et charrue pour rabourer, or a hoe or shovel over his shoulder going to work in the sugar cane or corn cutting down nuisance weeds growing in the rows. Then coming home to milk the cows. Remember that? He farmed 90-plus acres of sharecropper land. Summer time was cotton picking time for us.
Dinner time at noon from the kitchen came the smell of white beans and rice with maybe a chicken fricassee that pulled you to the table. Supper time, another treat of couch-couch or biscuits with that fresh lait de vache. And don’t forget the food was cooked on a wood burning stove. Cooking was done in the kitchen with no fans, no one complained about the heat. Mais ca c’est tes something. Amètie a tout! Bonne journèe demain.

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