During departure ride preparation in Diamondhead, MS, it occurred to me that I'd be passing nearby my wrench-ly friend and sometimes riding partner, Troutdude... And, what’s more, that I'd be passing right near his house around breakfast time... I called him and extended an invitation for Waterbug and him to join me for some grits and thangs...
I'd caught him getting his and her bikes ready for a day-ride... They didn't have anything serious in mind, so we arranged to meet at the usual rendezvous spot... the Waffle House just down the road from their place. An hour later we were laughing and joking, while we waited on our just ordered grits to be served... I told them of the sort-of, mostly non-plan I’d been kicking around, and they decided to ride with me some of the way...
Following a brief delay as they returned to their house to pack an overnight bag, we rode the slab through Baton Rouge, then exited that ribbon of asphalt onto two-lane roads with some surprising curvatude! These roads don’t follow the contours of mountains and go up and down over gaps or passes… They follow the meanderings of bayous, creeks, and rivers, and they go up and over bridges and levees! Still, they were fun to ride, and a most peasant alternative to the major highways I usually ride through there…
We ended up getting rooms in Jennings, LA, at the same motel we'd stayed-in another time... The time when Punisher and Jackie had joined TD, Waterbug, Napper and yours truly for a visit to DI's Cajun Restaurant for some fine food, dancing and enjoyment of genuine Cajun music provided by a live band... Only the three of us this time, but we did return to DI's...
Our server Candie... If I'd only been forty years younger...
Acadiana... Rice paddies in summer, crawfish (mud-bugs) ponds the rest of the year...
The word 'Cajun' is a corruption of the word 'Acadian'... the term applied to a group of early French settlers in areas of eastern Canada, especially in what today are the Maritime provinces. A very long story that spans several centuries, but the upshot of it all is that just after the middle of the eighteenth century many of the French settlers in 'Acadia' were expelled from their homes by their recent conquerors, the British - a long story in itself, and one that should be understood in the context of the times and circumstances of the then situation before judging.
Anyway, many Acadians had been rounded-up, loaded-up, and deposited mostly in other French colonies and possessions... including the colony of Louisiana which was owned by France at the time. Some returned to France, others wound-up in the American colonies, but many were left to fend for themselves in what today is referred to as 'Acadiana'...
These folks were descended from subsistence farmers but workers on the lands of the French gentry mostly, in northern France, and they were largely uneducated and of what would have been considered peasant stock… much like my ancestors who came from the northern ‘borders region’ of the UK… that area between England and Scotland, whose boundaries ebbed and flowed back and forth for centuries… along with allegiances and ownership of the land…
Most of the French in Louisiana who preceded the Acadians were of aristocratic decent or at least the upper classes, and they had a well-established economic system for themselves. This sudden bulge of newcomers couldn't be readily absorbed into the existing 'order'; so, while not outright mistreated, they were 'encouraged' to settle in the southwestern and mostly uninhabited by Europeans region of the colony... Swamps, bayous, marshy land... mosquitoes, alligators, snakes, disease, extreme heat, and oppressive humidity... very inhospitable territory to say the least! A most difficult, hard-scrabble life became their lot.
Those tough, resilient, hearty, and determined folks persisted despite everything, however, and they carved out a life for themselves and even flourished. The lifestyle that has evolved down there is characterized by and reflected in their food, their music, and their zest for life!
The mere survival of these strong people and their descendants is an amazing story and a testament to the tenacity and ingenuity of these intrepid folks… That they are so cheerful and seem to celebrate life every day is proof, to this admiring observer anyway, that ‘happiness’ truly is a choice, and not just a ‘thing’ or a ‘situation’… These stalwart people don't cower in a 'safe space' and whimper about their victimhood, they meet adversity head-on and persevere! And, then they celebrate their success!!!
When they arrived, they already spoke a dialect of French that had been modified through isolation from the center of French culture... First, because most of them had come to ‘New France’, Canada, originally from the northern and northwestern parts of France, and the dialect there had been heavily influenced by Norsemen (Vikings), who'd settled in that region a couple of centuries before any of this (Normandy - North Man, for example). Even while still on that side of the pond, theirs' was somewhat removed from ‘Parisian French’. Once on this side of the pond, obviously further removed…
Second, by being down in the swampland of southwestern Louisiana, they were even further cut-off and isolated from not only the Canadian French, but also those in France, as well. Later, when the USA acquired Louisiana, they became cut-off entirely from both groups. Over the next two and a half centuries or so, their unique dialect evolved and morphed even more into a barely intelligible brand of the French language to the rest of the French-speaking world. Kind of like, only even more so, the difference in the 'English' being spoken today in Piccadilly in London and that spoken down along the Pecos River in Texas...
The huge waiting area inside DI’s was packed, and a couple dozen folks milled around outside with more arriving by the minute, all waiting to be seated inside… We reluctantly decided to leave early, even though we were thoroughly enjoying the music… I don’t understand a single word in those songs, but I love the rhythm, beat, and lively nature of it, and I’ve grown very fond of the sound of a ‘squeeze box’, fiddle, banjo, and flat-top guitar all played in concert… Makes me want to jump up and seriously gyrate!
For some mysterious reason, I didn’t sleep very well that night… could be I needed an Alka-Seltzer or something: I didn’t have indigestion, but I surely was stuffed full-as-a-tick! I seemed to have a great deal on my mind, too, as I couldn’t turn-off the thoughts and relax… Oh well, I’d just deal with the result and do what I had to do…
The next morning, TD and WB loaded up and departed first. I waved to them as they rode off… and I reflectively thought to myself, “What a truly fortunate guy I am! To have good friends like that… folks who are willing to be my good friends. Riders who will pick up and ride off on the spur of the moment on an unplanned excursion… To share life and enjoy the companionship of them and so many other fine folks all around this continent…” No two of my rides are ever ‘typical’, and this one was shaping up to be… ummm, not typical, as well. Yes sir, there really is a God… and He/She loves me very much!!!
DDT
