M’su Carencro, the Buzzard, was sitting in a tree waiting for something to drop dead so he could feast. It had been days since he had a decent meal. Then out of nowhere came flying in Mangeur de Poulet, the Chicken Hawk. Mangeur de Poulet notices M’su Carencro in his tree and calls out “ Ca Va, mon padnat?” (How’s it goin’, friend?)
M’su Carencro cawed back “Ca va mal! (Not good at all!) I am starving! I been here waiting for something to drop dead for the pas’ couple of days. I just want my supper.”
“And why is that padnat?” says the confident and full of himself Chicken Hawk.”If you are hungry, you just go get it yourself like I do. Why dont’cha just catch you some fresh meat? You have to look out for yourself if you gonna make it in this world, mon ami.” (My friend.)
“Non!“ (No!) said M’su Carencro. “You don’t understand how this works. I have to for somethin’ to drop dead before I can eat it. This is my purpose given to me by le Bon Dieu.” (The Good God)
“Le Bon Dieu? Non! Don’t bother with the Good God. Even if he does exist, what says you that he cares if you eat? You have to look out fo’ yourself like I do. I’ll show you how to take care of yourself and not depen’ on anyone else!” said Mangeur de Poulet.
And with that the Chicken Hawk soared in to the air, doing fancy flips and maneuvers. The Buzzard followed along at a safe distance behind watching in amazement at how agile Mangeur de Poulet was. They soon came upon a wide empty field and noticed some movement down below.
A fat, juicy rabbit was darting below; quick and agile trying to avoid the Chicken Hawk. The Chicken Hawk grew closer to the rabbit and thought that he had him for sure. At the last moment Mangeur de Poulet talons graced the rabbits fur as he dropped in to a den hole near a fence post. Before Mangeur de Poulet could realize what had happened, he hit that pole at full speed.
The Chicken Hawk fell straight dead to the ground. M’su Carencro landed next to him and looked up to the sky. “Merci beaucoup, mon Grand Bon Dieu!” (Good God almighty, thank you!) He then grins and says “Suppertime!”
Missed it by a couple of days, but January 6th marks the Epiphany - the start of Carnival season. It’s also the celebrated birthday of Joan of Arc, so happy 608th.
The statue pictured is Joanie on the Ponie, gifted to the city of New Orleans in 1972 by France. Joan is the Maid of New Orleans, since the city was named after Orleans, the first city she defended and recaptured for the French in the 100 years war.
Driskill Mountain is the tallest “mountain” in Louisiana at 535 feet above sea level. Named for James Christopher Driskill, a man originally from Georgia who brought his 9 children to the area in the 1850′s. Located between Shreveport and Monroe, it’s a popular hiking area and is used for logging as well.
Above ground family tombs in Louisiana typically held up to 85 family members.
How? When a family member passed they would be interred in the tomb in a wooden casket. They were kept there for one year and one day (the one day due to it being taboo to disturb someone exactly one year after their funeral) and exhumed. The whole purpose for this is to ensure the body went through a New Orleans summer where the tombs can reach 350 degrees easily in the summer heat. When the casket was removed they would either burn the casket or dispose of it after removing the body, taking the remains which have essentially been cremated (though in a Catholic friendly way since fire never touches the body) and placing them in the back of the tomb - mixing them with the remains of the family members who came before.
Why I Started This Blog and the Unexpected Outcome
Journeys can be very interesting. You just never know where you could end up.
Part of my journey started with falling in love. A love that will probably prove eternal. I have a rather mixed up family: my mother was adopted and I don’t really know her too well. Being born in Tucson, Arizona, I grew up wondering where her side of the family came from but she had no interest in knowing; my parents divorced when I was three. My single father and I moved to San Diego, California when I was five years old. My fathers side is Italian and Lithuanian, with the first family settlers taking root in Chicago, Illinois. I lived with a feeling of missing half of yourself and it is a strange and empty feeling.
An even stranger feeling is being contacted through social media by someone who says they are a sister you never heard of. That happened to me a little over 6 years ago. My mother was a bit of a rolling stone and she accumulated 5 children that I knew of. Turns out there was a 6th that she gave up for adoption when she was 17-18.
My eldest sister and I met when I was still living out in California. I met her, her son and her husband. We clicked right away and were amazed by how much we had in common. She lived out in Louisiana and a year later I went out to visit.
My first trip to Baton Rouge and New Orleans ended with me being enamored by the beauty and culture of the area. I’ll be damned if it wasnt love at first sight. That’s what started this blog and constant love letter to the great state of Louisiana. Sure it has its issues, but when you strip it down to its bare bones and get to the essence of it, it’s just beautiful.
My sister is considered a Yankee from Chicago, though she has lived in Louisiana for about 15 years. When she was still in High School she made her first trip to the state and made it back as often as she could. It’s almost like a vodoun spell that affects anyone who enters. I myself have tried to go back at least once a year since my first visit.
To get back to what started it all, I wanted to know where my mother came from and where half of me originated. I purchased a DNA kit through 23andme and became linked to people who didnt share DNA with my father or his side. I sent out a few messages to my cousins but no one knew how we were linked. Last year I gifted my sister with a kit as well since we don’t share the same father and 13 years separate us.
My sister also sent out messages and after a few months one of the cousins finally responded and gave her some info to get started. She ran with it and dug and dug for months until she finally got in touch with the right people to find out who our grandparents are.
They came from Kentucky, bloody Breathitt County to be exact. A land where many children were given up or sent to live with cousins when times got tough. My grandfather was a womanizer and alcoholic, and my grandmother had an unknown amount of children whom she gave up almost all of them for adoption. We know of at least seven but suspect more.
Ultimately what this really did is open a whole treasure trove of family history. We had a great grandmother who was killed by moonshiners while they raided a jail in Kentucky to free their brethren. We found out that one branch of the family owned plantations in the deep south before the War of Southern Independence. Ancestors served in the Revolutionary war and the Civil war, on both sides. They came from England way back when.
Probably the most interesting member of our family was a man named Charles Rochon, my seventh great grandfather, who helped to found the current location of Mobile, Alabama back when it was still part of the Louisiana territory. He accompanied Henri de Tonti, the Italian explorer in service of France on many of his expeditions exploring the Louisiana Territory. The Rochon’s owned town homes in the French Quarter of New Orleans after the great fire of 1788, and stayed there often.
We discovered that all along we had a connection to Louisiana founded in our family blood and were drawn back to the state in our own ways and along our own journey’s. Life has a funny way of connecting people and you just never know where you’ll end up.
The official name of the Southern region of Louisiana, home of the Cajuns.
This name was only coined in the early 50s, but came into regular use in the 60s after a mistake by KATC changed AcadiantoAcadiana. It and 22 Louisiana parishes were officially recognized in 1971 by the Louisiana government for “strong French Acadian cultural aspects”. (House Concurrent Resolution No. 496, June 6, 1971, authored by Carl W. Bauer of St. Mary Parish)
The official name is actually “The Heart of Acadiana”, but most people (and maps) prefer the shortened form.
