Rev. Theresa Calcutta

“I’m so old that my childhood leaped out of my mind to say ‘hello’ again.”

Susie Blair

                                  

       

        Rev. Theresa Calcutta was a well-respected Bible Scholar for her knowledge of the scripture. She also has a great sense of humor and a gift for music, playing the clarinet.  As a gifted public speaker, she was often asked to lead large conferences across the United States.

In the 1950's she felt a strong need to become a missionary, and after much prayer and convincing the missionary board that a single woman in her thirties could go to a foreign land for God, Rev. Calcutta eventually became a missionary to Africa and Brazil helping those less fortunate, feeding the hungry and establishing orphanages.  She sacrificed her own health on too many occasions insisting that this was her gift to the world.  She preached self-sacrifice and love for others. 

Fellow missionaries soon became concerned about her health, and worried about her, but she insisted that the Lord had opened her heart to the needs for those less fortunate, so she continued to live a life as one of God’s angels on earth. Living in poverty so others could know the Lord.

            On her forty-ninth birthday, Rev. Theresa began showing signs of Alzheimer’s and was forced to retire after nearly setting the home she lived in on fire.  She now lives in a nursing home in a local community.  In her confused mind, the nursing home is still her mission field and although she irritates some of the residents, by playing her clarinet to gather them for evening vespers, most tolerate her for she is harmless and still has her sense of humor.

             At the nursing home she has developed a love of plants, flowers, and birds.  The home even provides a place for her to plant and maintain flowers which keeps her very happy.  Friends bring her birdseed.  

Whenever flowers arrive for someone, she will pester residents by asking if she can have the left-over plants to put in her garden for the birds to enjoy.  Even when dead flowers are thrown away, she will dig them out of the trash and re-plant them in the soil. She carefully places a nameplate next to the plant with a person’s name. All plants get into the ground whether they are dead or not and she waters them diligently twice a day. 

In the evening before dark, she will be in her garden playing her clarinet for the flowers and birds.  Most just smile and explain her away to visitors. 

This is one of the things that endears her to others, her love of people and flowers.

            At noon the meals are not eaten until she says a blessing and sings “His Eye is on the Sparrow, and I know He Watches Me.” 

            Bless her heart, she is one of God’s angels on earth.  A true treasure. 

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.

BEAU

chapter 5

Old Struck

The end of our adventure.

         Me and Beau didn't see each other for a while after that 'cause our mamas said they needed a break from the shenanigans we had caused.  When I did see him again, Beau was wearing his brand-new, store-bought overalls.  His paw had sold some good deer pelts for less than what they were worth so Beau could have some britches.  His Maw gave him what fer over all the trouble he had caused and warned him that them overalls had best last all his born days until he became an adult and maybe a long time after that. 

          It felt good bein' friends again, full of fun.  One day we decided to head over to the clearin' by “old struck” and just hang about.  Paw said it was good for us because we could learn to be better swampers.  “If'n you'd just go somewheres in the swamp and stand still for a while, you might get to know them critters and their habits. It'll help you trap better,” he said.  “They gonna' stay hidden long as you boys keep makin' all that racket.”  Beau said he already knew them critters and he weren't 'bout to go stand still in that old swamp waitin' for them critters to show their face, ‘cause the skeeters and chiggers would eat us alive.  “Besides,” said Beau, “some old bobcat might sneak up on us and have us for dinner.”  I said we should climb up on old struck to watch for the critters, but Beau said he would get sleepy and fall off the limb and the old buzzards would come and invite all their friends to a buzzard party over our dead bodies. Said they'd eat mine first since I was sweeter.  I said, “Wait a cotton-pickin’ minute,” and hit him up-side the head.   We wrestled for a while before sittin' on the ground, back-to-back.  “Ain't nothin' sneakin' up on us today 'ceptin' them skeeters,” Beau laughed.

          Weren't long before we heard some rustlin' about in the leaves. Beau whispered it must be a bear sneakin' up, but it weren't really nothin' but some old birds searchin' for somethin' to eat.  Just as I was about to fall asleep myself and cause the buzzard party, Beau heard a “plink” in the water.  A squirrel had dropped some of its pinecone dinner into the water.  Then we saw a snake swim over to investigate before catchin' some small frogs instead.

            'Bout the time we was learnin' somethin' 'bout the swamp we realized things got mighty quiet.  I think it sorta crept up on us.  First the wind started to blow, and it felt so cool and refreshin' after all that hot sun that we didn't pay it no mind a'tall.  Then everythin' got real still, and the birds stopped their singin'. It sure was quiet.  Kinda spooky and in these parts of the swamp things can get real spooky, if'n one set his mind to it.  Beau looked at me and I looked at him and then, “BOOM”, that first bit oflightnin' struck.  Beau's feet never touched the ground as he knocked me down while I was fixin' to run for home.  Then the rain came poundin' down hard on us.  So hard we couldn't see straight. I ran one way and Beau ran the other, chasin' each other round and round cause we couldn't see nothin'.  Everythin' looked the same. Weren't long before we ran smack dab back into “old struck”.  Sure, felt good to find somethin' familiar even if it was “old struck”.  Beau said we oughta stay there a while till the rain let up some, but I weren't too happy 'bout stayin' under this tree 'cause that lightnin' and thunder was strikin' faster'n a cornered rattlesnake.  I just knew today would be the day that “old struck” got struck again.  But Beau just crossed his arms and sat down right at the foot of that tree and said he weren't gonna budge till it was over.  I reckon we stayed there all night, the rain never lettin' up enough for us to see ten feet.  We was shiverin' so hard we almost lost our you-know-whats.

          The next mornin' we began to shoutin' and hollerin' but no one ever heard us.   We were too wet and cold to really care, anyway.   And that rain was still poundin' and the lightnin' still flashin' like old Noah was gonna show up with his boat any minute. I said I bet old Noah was glad it was rainin' so he could wash them animals.  Beau said he didn't know how Mrs. Noah could stand being on that boat with them stinkin' animals roamin' about.  He said he bet she was runnin' round like a chicken with its head cut off, what with cleanin' up after all 'em.  “If'n I was Mrs. Noah,” he said, “I wouldn't a put up with all that mess.  I’d a made him make two boats, one for the family and one for all them critters with a long rope connectin' them two and if Mr. Noah wanted to have a hissy-fit he could join the other boat.” 

          “Beau,” I shouted, “we gonna drown down here under “old struck.  This rain's a real frogwash.  The gators gonna have their own party bout us goin' away.  I ain't ready to die.”  Bout that time, before Beau could answer his sassy self, “BOOM!” That lightnin' hit so close that the whole swamp shook.  We took off like hound dog s chasin’ coons.  That next bolt hit “old struck” so hard that it split in two, right where Beau had been sittin'.  Then a fire started up.  “We better head for the barn, Beau,” I shouted, “we better start runnin'.   Beau!”  Beau didn't move.  I shouted more.  Still no movin'.  Beau had been hit by a limb and was bleedin' and I was too scared to have noticed.  His leg sure looked funny.  By now, that fire was creepin' up on us faster-n a hot knife through butter. I had to throw Beau over my shoulders, midst all his hollerin' and groanin', to not burn.  Possums and coons and deer were runnin' all around us trying to escape the fire.  “My leg, my leg!” Beau shouted.  “I can't move.”   I said, “Beau, we're in a heap of trouble if'n we don't high tail it.” 

          The fire was all around us, ceptin' a spot out in the water so I jerked Beau up again and headed out.  Water was up to our chests and gators and snakes were all around us, but they didn't never mind, 'cause they was escapin' that fire too.  So, there we sat with the fire and gators and snakes sayin' their howdy-do as they passed on by.  We were still in that water when the fire stopped and climbed on the land again and that’s where we was sittin’ when our paws found us.  Said we had been gone for two days and that fire finally hushed itself up over by the landin'.  Beau's leg was mighty swollen now, and his Paw said he reckon it were broken so we made a splint with that charred wood and hauled us out'a that swamp.  Paw said he reckoned “old struck” had finally bit the dust.

          Our maws started cryin' and huggin' and kissin' us when we got to the clearin' but when Beau's maw took one look at his overalls, she said she was gonna jerk a knot in his tail for messin' up them brand-new store-bought britches.  Said she weren't gonna fix 'em anymore and he'd just have-ta be buried in ‘em. 

          Beau didn't get us into any more trouble after that what with his broke leg and such that we just lazed around the house helpin' our paws skin the animals they trapped. Winter was comin' soon, and our paws had killed enough beaver, deer, coon, and nutria pelts to get through the winter.  Yes sir, we was simply good ole' boys livin' down in the swamp.

          My family moved not long after that so that my sisters could have a right schoolin'.  I didn't see much of Beau after that, but I do know that Beau had been savin' some pelts he had trapped and when he had gotten enough went to Mr. Higgins' store and sold them.  He had enough to buy his mama a new dress for her birthday since she had put up with enough of his shenanigans to last a lifetime. 

Bless his heart.

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.

BEAU

chapter 4

Ghost Stories

         

Yep, Beau and I had to sleep outside for three days.  It weren't much fun 'cause of all the baths we had to take, but that's what we had to do after meetin' ole' mama skunk.  We had to sleep outside with nothin' but our underwear.  Beau said we would freeze off our “you-know-what’s”, but his mama said, “I don't give a diddly-squat.”   She weren't givin' no more clothes or blankets to be torn up or stunk up.

Soon as he could, Beau got rid of his underwear.  Said he weren't gonna let any stinkin' underwear let him keep from sleepin'.  My sisters said he sure looked dumb in his ole' birthday suit.  They laughed and said God musta taken Beau out of the oven too soon 'cause he looked half baked.  Said his skinny ole' tan legs and arms sure looked strange next to that bony ole' white body.  Beau said that didn't bother him none and he just climbed out on a limb and hung upside down scratchin' his chest for fleas.  Faster than a rabbit chased by hounds, Beau's mama found him some more underwear.  “I don't care if'n there ain't neighbors around,” she said, “but my boy ain't gonna run around buck naked like a wild animal.”

          Beau's mama made us take two baths every day. I thought the water felt good, but Beau said only girls or sissies took more than one bath a week.  Said his brother, Leon, sometimes went 3 weeks without one.  Maybe that's why my sisters didn't like him.  Beau's mama said that when Leon got home from trappin' she was gonna make him take one too.  Beau said he didn't want to be buck naked in no tub with Leon 'cause he was a pervert, whatever that means.  “I'm gonna wash your mouth out with lye soap Beau Bordeleon,” said his maw, “unless you quit all that nasty talk.”  Beau thought it was bad enough havin' to use that lye soap on his body and he weren't about to put none in his mouth, so he just shut up.  After Beau's mama left, he said he didn't know which stunk most, having to take two baths a day or that ole' stinkin' mama.  I sure hope he was talkin' 'bout that black and white critter what got us in this mess and not his own mama.

          I said we could pretend we were in the jungle and cannibals were gonna make a good soup out of us, but Beau said he didn't want to play.  Said his mama was gonna be sad she made him take so many baths.  Said that water was too hot, and it was gonna make his skin crinkle up and fall right off his bones to the bottom of the wash tub.  “Maw sure is gonna feel sorry for having a skeleton in the family,” he said.  I said his mama would probably hang him in the smokehouse and have lots of bones to make soup with.  Beau poked me in the stomach and made me spit up all over him.  So, he spit back, and I got mad, and we started to fight.  Them girls began screamin' for our mama and said they wished we'd never been hatched 'cause we'd been nothin' but misery all our born days.  Betsy said, as they ran to the house, “I wish that ole' water would boil your hides so we could stretch it out to dry and sell it with the other animal skins.” 

          We started rollin' and jumpin' all over the yard buck naked with mud and stuff all over us.  We fought so much that Beau knocked the wash tub over and spilled lots of water.  It hit me in the head makin' me see stars. Beau's mama boiled some more water and made us take another bath with lye soap while she stood near with a switch in her hand.  She said Beau was lower than a snake in a wagon rut. 

          At night Beau and I slept in the tree house and told ghost stories.  But mostly Beau.  Said he had one that would scare my dumb ole' sisters.  “Them sissy girls will have gray hair before they're old enough to marry,” said Beau. “Won't nobody want them when they see how old and ugly, they become.  Not even brother Leon,” he laughed.  Said he couldn't wait to tell them his story since they made fun of his birthday suit.  Beau stood up and began to act like a wild animal swingin' his arms about as he told about the Tiger-Sniger.  Said the Tiger-Sniger was striped like a tiger and was purple and white.  It stood 10 feet tall and had eyes and tails all over its body. It would stalk the swamp lookin' for children to eat. I smiled and pretended I weren't scared 'cause I couldn't let Beau know. Beau's story made me shiver so much I thought my underwear would drop off and my you-know-what would too.  Beau said if'n I didn't stop that shiverin', I was gonna knock the tree house down and the Tiger-Sniger might get me.   I shook harder as I moved to the middle of the tree house, holdin' tight to my underwear.  I said I was just cold and missin' my blanket.  Said I was movin' to the middle to get warmer.  Beau laughed so hard, he fell on his bottom, sayin' I was just scared 'cause the tree house was only 8 feet off the ground and the Tiger-Sniger was 10 feet tall. I hit Beau so hard he fell, and we started fightin' again.   I told him, any ole' bear could sneak up on that ole Tiger-Sniger and make Tiger-Sniger stew if'n he wanted to.”  Beau said nothin' could sneak up on the Tiger-Sniger.  “Beau, you're crazy,” I said, “'cause somethin' could sneak up on it when it was sleepin'.”  Beau said it never completely slept and kept one eye open. When it found something near it, it would take one of its twelve tails that were attached under the twelve eyes, even on its head and wrap it around the critter like a snake.  Beau said it would squeeze the critter until it went limp, then eat it.  Beau then proceeded to jump on me and started squeezin' me around my middle with his legs.  I said I had to go to the bathroom.  Beau laughed louder sayin' he scared the pee out of me and was gonna tell, but I let him know I was just waitin' for a good time to go 'cause I didn't want to upset his story.  Beau kept makin' fun of me being sissy and then he curled up in the middle of the tree house using his underwear for a pillow and went to sleep.   I couldn't sleep 'cause I was wonderin' which one of those eyes that ole' Tiger-Sniger had lookin' at me or if'n he wanted two ole' stinkin' boys for his supper.  After sittin' awhile, and shakin', Beau suddenly stood up and started walkin' about with his arms flailin' everywhere.  “Beau,” I shouted, But Beau kept going in a circle and bumpin' into everythin'.  Beau was either asleep or that mean ole' Sniger had done flung a spell on him.  Beau sure looked funny with his arms flailin' about walkin' in circles with nothin' on but his birthday suit.  But I weren't gonna wake him.  No sir'ree.  Not me boy! My maw had told me that if'n I ever saw someone walkin' in their sleep that I'd better not ever try waking them 'cause they might be dangerous.  She said they usually had a spell cast on them for being so bad and could even kill a person if disturbed.  Maw said no one was supposed to wake up somebody like this or they might be crazy in their minds the rest of their born days and would have to be locked up for protection.    Lands, I didn’t know what to do.  I couldn't stay in the tree house 'cause Beau was all over it and I might be killed, and I couldn't go leavin' it 'cause that ole' Tiger-Sniger might be waitin' for me to climb down, and I might be killed.  I knew one thing for sure, I weren't 'bout to wake Beau up 'cause I didn't want him to be crazier than he already was.  So, I just kept walkin' about the tree house keepin' out of Beau's way the rest of the night.  I was so dizzy walkin' in circles that I was about to pass out when Beau headed for a limb and climbed on it, stretchin' out like an ole' mama couger with his legs and arms danglin' down and started to snore.  I stayed up all night waitin' and watchin' but that Tiger-Sniger never came, and Beau kept on sleepin'.  

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.

BEAU

CHAPTER 3

AND SMELLIN' STILL

   We were clearin’ the boards, laughin’ ‘bout how funny we must have looked falling down on them sheep, when Beau noticed a tunnel runnin’ up under the side of the sheep shed.   After pokin’ a stick, a couple of times, Beau decided one of the dogs or cats musta made it to get cool and it needed investigatin’.  Beau just seemed to fear nothin’ and started climbin’ in that tunnel.  Got halfway in before he got stuck.  Said I should pull some of the boards off him so he could get out, but I just thought this was another plan of Beau's to make me do all the work.  So, I just pushed him up further making him look like my maw had planted her flower garden there in the shed ‘cause all that was left of Beau was his overalls.  Beau started shoutin’ at me that he could hear somethin’ in front of him and I better get him out, quick, but I couldn't.  No matter how hard I pulled, Beau stayed stuck.  Beau shouted that I should get my sisters to help me pull.  My sisters said he could rot up in those ole' boards for all they cared and besides, it served him right.  Anyway, they were fixin’ supper and tryin’ on some of maws toilet water while she was gone to help Beau's maw help set up the quiltin’ frame over at Beau's house.

          Near supper my sisters came out smellin’ like they fell in that ole' bottle of toilet water.  But it weren’t just them!  That stinkin’ was comin’ from Beau!  “I told you he would rot,” they shouted.  The girls just screamed and left sayin’ I could pull that ole' stinky boy out myself or just leave him there.  I tugged at Beau's feet and shouted that he should push from his end to help me, but he didn't hear me ‘cause he had passed out.  I finally got him out of that tunnel and thought he had died and gone to heaven again. When our paws came home, my Paw said he had forgotten to tell us he had seen an ole'mama skunk among them boards and that we should be careful not to rile her.  “Just put them boards back over the hole,” they laughed, standin’ their distance.

          Before I could, that ole' mama skunk and all her young-uns came prancin out flingin’ their tails even higher at all of us.  I never seen so much runnin’ and shoutin’ in all my born days.  Sisters were screamin’ about supper being ruined while they ran about in total confusion.  Paws, sisters, dogs, cats, sheep, skunks and me were runnin’ in every direction while Beau just lay there passed out deader’n a doorknob.  Every time I got near anyone they would shout and run faster screamin’ at me to stay away.  As I ran around the corner of the shed, I looked back to see if Beau was movin’ but he just kept lyin’ there.  The baby skunks decided they must have liked ole Beau ‘cause they marched right up to him and proceeded to climb on his back and play among the flowers while their ole' mama kept her guard.  Darin' us to mess with her young-uns or their new flower garden.  That's when I discovered that ole' mama and her young-uns weren't the only skunks stinkin’.  I was stinkin’ too.  Paw said it was my God given duty to run them skunks away from my best friend since I was smellin’ just as ripe as them skunks and Beau.  Before I could get me a stick to chase ‘em, Beau woke up a screamin’ and flingin’ skunks in every direction.  This didn't set too well with that ole' mama skunk and she proceeded to fling more of that perfume of hers at us again.

          We did some burnin’ that afternoon all right.  Not only did we burn them boards, but we had to burn every stitch of clothes we had on and had to spend the next few days and nights camped outside in our underwear and taking baths with lye soap ‘til we quit smellin' so ripe and our maws had time to make us some new overalls.  Beau's maw made his out of her ole' stripped black and white dress which made Beau happy 'cause he was gonna look like one of them convicts or that ole' skunk critter.  My sisters said his maw was just gettin' him used to what he would have to wear some day in the jail house over in Marksville.

          Poor Beau's mama didn't get the material for her dresses she wanted 'cause she had to spend the money on material for new overalls for Beau.  Said she was gonna make him a dozen different pair.  Said she wasn't gonna let him run around all day lookin' like that ole' mama skunk in his black and white stripped overalls.

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.

BEAU

chapter 2

SMELLIN' PRETTY

That alligator meat sure was good.  Beau's mama fixed us up some in a gumbo.  There never was any better eatin’, the way Beau's mama cooked up things, lessen it was my mamas cookin’.

          After eatin’, Beau and I decided we would mess around the swamp some more fore going to take a swim.  But Beau's mama said no.  She said it was time to start quiltin’ and for us to go fetch the quilt frame from my mama.  I hated it when it was time to quilt.  Beau's mama and my mama and sisters would just' sit and laugh and sew and tell stories forever and bein’ as we were too young to go trap with our papas, we had to do most of the work around the house since they were too busy.  Leon thought that weren't fair.  Said he'd be glad to quilt with my sisters.  Beau said he was sick in the head and a sissy.  Leon said, “If I were you Beau, I wouldn't talk about who was a sissy since you are the one wearin’ them flowery ole' women's britches.”  Before they could start a fight, Beau's mama sent us to get the quilt frame which was over our sheep shed.  I hated climbin’ over them sheep to get the frame down ‘cause of that mean ole' ram.  But Beau said he'd help since he liked climbin’ over the sheep.  Said they looked like nice little fluffy clouds floatin’ near the ground waitin’ to be jumped on.

          When we were inside the shed, Beau said that the ole' quiltin’ frame sticks sure had to put up with a lot, what with havin’ to hear them women giggle and talk 'bout everybody.  Beau said one day he was gonna be one of them sticks and when my sisters started talkin’ 'bout him he was gonna jump up real fast and swat them upside their heads.  Beau started to swat just to show me how and swatted his hand upside a yellow jackets nest and got stung.  I reckon God was telling him he shouldn't talk like that.

          Well, when Beau got stung, he jumped so far that he fell out of the top of that shed and bounced head over heels, swattin’ and yellin’ about them yellow jackets, straight down some boards my paw was savin’ and landed face first right in the middle of a fresh sheep patty.  His bouncin’ caused me to lose my balance, too, and I followed him down.  But good ole' Beau was lookin’ out after me ‘cause he saved me from fallin’ in the same place.  Only trouble was, when I landed on Beau, it caused him to fling his face in the sheep patty again, which made Beau shout so loud that the sheep got scared and started runnin’ and leapin’ everywhere, even on top of me and Beau. 

          Beau sure looked funny in them ole' flowery overalls covered in sheep stuff while he clung to the neck of the ole' ram who had decided we were after his ladies and proceeded to butt us.  Butted Beau so hard that he was flung upside the boards paw was saving' causin’ them to break and fall on his head.  It was then that I saw some red on Beau's face mixed with all that sheep stuff.  “Beau, you been hurt,” I said and ran to find

my maw.  At first Maw just laughed and said that sheep stuff ought to make them flowers on Beau's overalls grow some more.  Said that she never seen two boys get into so much trouble over nothing and made me clean Beau's face ‘cause he was too banged up.  Beau always had a way of getting’ out of doing things for himself.

          I leaned Beau upside the shed and proceeded to clean his face when suddenly, he started twitchin’ and flitchin’ and bouncin’ himself all over the ground.  “Maw, Beau's hurt bad.  He's having a fit.”  I shouted as Beau flung himself at me, shoutin’, “Ants!  I'm covered in ants, you idjit.”  How did I know that ants wanted to be in the same spot Beau wanted to sit on?

          Maw said she could tell Beau was all right now ‘cause he was so full of life.  Beau said it was all my fault that he was all beat up ‘cause I always made him do my work for me.  I told him he was dang dumb and crazy and that being as he was better; he could clean his own self up now.

          When he was cleaned up, Beau didn't look much better what with a black eye on one side of his face and a swollen eye on the other from the sting.  Not to mention all of them ant bites up and down his body.

          Beau just laughed and said he was goin’ home and tell his maw that he and an ole' bobcat were learnin’ to dance and he didn't learn too well.  Said she wouldn't believe the truth anyhow.  How could he blame his troubles on an ole' quiltin’ frame?

          Well, Beau's maw didn't believe that story about the bobcat ‘cause Beau's overalls weren't torn to shreds.  Said Beau musta got into some other kind of trouble and didn't want to tell her about it ‘cause he was covered in mess and stunk.  Said Beau was tryin’ to make her old before her time and that he must have been tryin’ to get rid of them overalls.  Made him put on one of her ole' dresses again and go out back and pound them overalls clean before she put the switch to him.  Beau said that sheep stuff was good for flowers, but Beau's mama said water was better.

          Beau sat there poundin’ his overalls wishin’ his brother, Leon, would hurry up and outgrow his britches so he could get rid of these flowery ones for good.  Maybe his maw could use some of those pelts’ daddy trapped to make him some new overalls, he said, even though he knew better ‘cause she sure could use some of that money for new material for dresses, especially since he was usin’ them dresses up faster than she was.  Just the same, Beau was getting’ mighty tired of wearin’ them ole' sissy flower pants.

 Beau was in the middle of his poundin’ and fussin’ when his paw came over and said he had heard how Beau broke my paw's boards from bouncin’ down them and that

when Beau was through poundin’ his clothes, he'd have to get out of that dress and go help me and paw cut some new boards.  Said that Beau should clean out our sheep shed to help pay for the trouble he caused.  Then he just laughed and said Beau was lookin' more like a girl every day.

          When Beau got to my place, my paw said that he'd rather Beau just cleaned up the sheep shed instead.  Said Beau would probably cause the tree to fall in the wrong direction or split it in two or somethin’.

          So, me and Beau had to clean the shed.  Funny how Beau never got to do these things by himself and that I always seemed to be handy to help him get out of trouble.

          Not only did we have to clean up all the sheep mess and get the quilt frame down, but paw said that all that trash and boards and such should be cleaned out, too, and burned. I said, “Maybe our maws could quilt Beau a new pair of britches.”

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.

 

HOW BEAU GOT HIS NEW BRITCHES

                                             (an original story...Nippy Blair)

                                                               Chapter 1

          He was just a good ole' boy living down in the swamp.  Fair skinned, deep set brown eyes, the darkest tan, and the blackest hair...so black and shiny you could see your own reflection in it ifn’ you looked hard enough.  That was Beau.  Montgomery Beauregard Bordelon.  But everyone called him Beau.  Never saw Beau dressed up.  Always wore those same ole' bib overalls his older brother handed down when he got too big for them.  Had a big patch on the left knee ‘cause Beau was always getting’ into trouble.  Didn't matter much ‘bout that patch, though, ‘cause no one ever came in these parts of the swamp to care how you dressed anyhow.  Beau didn't have any shoes, neither, but that didn't matter ‘cause no one did ceptin’ maybe our maws and paws, and besides ifn’ he did have some there'd be no place to wear ‘em.  They'd just get in the way having to take them off every time we decided to shinny up one of them live oaks.

          I never had any other playmates growin’ up ceptin’ my dumb ole' sisters, Mary, Alice, and Betsy or Beau's older brother, Leon, who was always busy courtin’ Mary or Alice or helping his paw trap nutria to care about playin’ with me.  So, I reckon it was just as good that Beau and I were friends.  Good friends full of fun.

          Being so full of fun sometimes got us into trouble.  Like the time Beau found them alligator eggs over by the “old struck” tree.  We called it that ‘cause this live oak seemed to always be attractin’ lightnin’.  “There's no telling how many times that ole' trees' been struck,” said Paw.  “It’s been struck 12 times since we been livin’ here and there's no telling how many times it was struck before.” 

          Beau was just out trappin’ when he happened upon them eggs.  Couldn't wait to find me.  “John's out fishing with his Paw on further back in the swamp,” my maw told him.  “Won't be back till late,” she said.  Well, that didn't set well with Beau.  Didn't set well atall.  “Can't wait till later,” he said as he hurried off.  “Don't matter if I am alone,” he shouted over his shoulder as he ran home to gather his knife and other weapons, he thought he might need.  “Besides, I ain't afraid of no mean ole' mama gator,” he said to himself.

          When I got home, Maw told me Beau was just lookin’ for me and was all excited, I hurried to find him ‘cause I knew good times was just around the corner.  Caught him over by “struck” tree, but Beau was too busy concentratin’ to even know I was around. 

          I thought I'd have some fun of my own with ole' Beau, so I started sneakin’ up on him.  I climbed in the tree thinkin’ ‘bout pouncing on him when it happened.  That ole' mama gator was bellowin’ and rushin’ straight for Beau.  I clung to that tree tighter ‘en a tick on a hound dog ready to help Beau if he needed me.  Good thing I was there to look out after him, or you never would have known anythin’ about my ole' buddy Beau. 

Don't reckon they would have ever found his body.  You see, Beau was just reachin’ that last egg when the ole' gal rushed up on him a bellowin’ so loud that Beau just' froze to the spot. Why mud and sweat was all over Beau's body as he rushed out of that water.  That ole' mother just kept on comin’ after Beau and by the time he was through dancin’ with that ole' mama gator he was fit to be tied.  And then “WHUMP!”  She was down upon him, and they proceeded to tango.  First, they rolled left two or three times, then back to the right, then back to the left again.  Beau was doin’ good holdin’ that ole' mama gators mouth shut and dancin’ all over when he spied me clingin’ to the tree ready to help.  That upset Beau so much that he let go and started hollerin’ ‘bout me or something.  Couldn't understand what he was sayin’ but he was probably sayin’ how glad he was to see me.  Just as I was 'bout to help him that ole' mama just slapped him plumb upside a cypress tree with her tail.  Lands, you never saw such a pitiful sight in all your born days after that mama gator flung him clean up to heaven.  Shook things so hard, I thought ole' “struck” had been struck again and me in it.  Nearly fell out of that ole' tree.  But Beau was tough and wanted them eggs bad and besides he wern't 'bout to give up now.  So, he proceeded to shoutin’ something about me again, but I was too busy clingin’ to that shakin’ tree trying to keep my balance that I didn't listen too well.

          Beau, lookin’ mad spotted the knife I dropped, grabbed it, and leaped upon that ole' gator and begun thrustin’ his knife in her belly...weren't long 'fore she was lyin’ still...and so was Beau.  Scared me to death, it did.  Beau just kept lyin’ there and lyin’ there with mud and sweat and blood all over his body.  I shouted his name over and over as I climbed down the tree.  “Beau, Beau.  Can I hep ya?  Beau, can you hear me?”  But Beau didn't move a muscle.  So, I took a stick and poked him one under his left arm to roll him over.  Beau rolled over so fast shoutin’ at me that I thought for sure that ole' mama gator had flung me clean up to heaven too.  I started a hollerin’, “Help.  Help.  Hallelujah!  I'm coming to Jesus.”   Beau just doubled over with laughter.  Said it served me right.  That rascal weren't hurt, except fer a few scratches.  After dryin’ the tears away from our eyes from laughin’, I gave Beau a good look.  “Land them overall,” I shouted.  “Beau, your mama's gonna have a heap of sewin’ to do tonight,” I said.  “Or else your brother's gonna outgrow his britches again mighty fast.”  After we finished laughin’ some more, Beau discovered that all them alligator eggs had been rolled over while all that wrestlin’ was going on.  Not even one of them was good fer nothin’.

          After the shock of losin’ them eggs, we both just sat down and laughed some more.  Took us the better part of the afternoon, time we skinned that gator and cut up the meat we intended to take home.  Both of us had to turn her over so Beau could cut the belly skin down each side to the back legs.  Beau said we had to be careful not to mess up that skin any worse that all those knives slashed already done.  Just the same, he let me rip around the legs and slice it down to the tail.  Said he sure hoped we could get a fair price for it.  Beau was careful to cut a steak or two from the tail for his mama.  The rest was throwd back into the swamp for the other gators or the buzzards that were waitin’ fer us to finish.  Beau sure was countin’ on that meat to help soothe his mama’s.

anger.  But it didn't.  I let Beau walk in by himself so as not to take all the credit for savin’ Beau myself or disturb his mama no more.

          Beau's mama just took one look at that boy and them overalls and headed him out behind the outhouse and proceeded to thrash him good with a willow branch that he had to get for her.  Said she didn't want to wait for his paw to come home...and then she marched him back to the house holdin’ his right ear very tight and made him put one of her dresses on while she tried to find enough patches to patch, never givin’ him a chance to tell how I saved his life. 

          The next morning Beau got to tell the whole story, since his paw and older brother had come home.  Beau sure was grateful to finally get it off his chest.  He proceeded to tell his version of the whole story in detail.  Spent the rest of the mornin’ re-living that experience and all the while his paw just rolled with laughter.  Weren't too long before Beau's maw and the rest of the family were laughin’ too.  Partly cause of the ridiculous way Beau looked in that dress as he told the story.  I was mad that he left out the part of me saving him.

          I didn't see Beau again for two or three days but his brother, Leon, told me that Beau was alright.  “Jus' won't come outside in maw's dress.  Don't blame him none, being as how he looks so sissy,” he said.

 And that's how come Beau got him a new pair of britches.  Beau said it didn'tmatter if they were out of his sister's ole' flowery dress cause nobody would see him ceptin’ us and the swamp critters.  “Besides,” he said, “I just' might be able to track and trap them critters better if they think I'm just a bunch of flowers.”  But I could tell Beau thought them new britches stunk.Beau's maw said she was gonna save what's left of them ole' britches and put them in a quilt so she can be reminded of that ole' mama gator that almost flung her baby to heaven.  CHAPTER 2 NEXT WEEK

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.

  Mama and the Air Conditioner

 So here it was, the beginning of July in the middle 1950's and it was hot.  So hot that mama kept mumbling, “Springs sprung, Fall's fell, Summer's here and it's hotter than hell.” 

We were miserable. The heat that summer was unbearable.  Sure, we had been in our new house out in the country for only a couple of years.  “It's cooler in the country, you know,” daddy said when we built this ranch style house.  “Yet, we are still hot,” mama said.  “You'll get used to it,” daddy said.  Mama didn't.  “It’s designed to catch cross breezes,” he said.  She disagreed.

 She asked for ceiling fans.  “Too expensive to have all those fans,” daddy replied.  “Besides, there are still things that have not been finished yet, like the barn being built, or the dog pen for my hunting dogs.  I don't even have a decent place to fatten a hog.   Remember, we have lots of windows opposite each other and tons of air circulation.  Open them all up.  You'll be all right.”    

Mama huffed from the room saying under her breath, “The wind doesn't always seem to favor blowing all the time for our pleasure, you old skinflint.  We are hot, you miserable old tightwad.”   Mama was more determined than ever to be cooler.  The next week, while daddy was in Baton Rouge taking care of state business as a state Representative, she researched air conditioners for the windows.  She had men come out and measure and quote prices, carefully writing down all the details and different estimates.  She presented them to daddy when he returned.  Taking one look at them he said, “Are you kidding?  That is too expensive.”  This really made mama hot.  No, mama didn't “glow” like all true southern women.  Nor was she the type of hot where you sweat buckets.   She was so hot her blood boiled.

  To everyone else, life seemed to be fine for the Blairs.   Daddy had been elected to the State House of Representatives and making a life for himself.    Even his business, Blair's Pest Control, was going well, for him at least.  He didn't need air conditioning at the house, he had it at his office, and he wasn't home that much anymore since he spent a great deal of time at the state capital which had air conditioning.  When he was home, he was outdoors on his tractor, planting or harvesting the cotton and corn we grew on what is now Mohon Street and Brame Junior High School.  And if he wasn't there then he was out playing politician. 

     

  We were the ones who had to suffer!   

 Meanwhile, mama stopped cooking steaks and big meals using the oven thinking that would make him change his mind.  No, he began to eat at Effie's Restaurant with his cronies, while we ate peanut butter sandwiches.  Nothing seemed to work.  Meanwhile, the barn wasn't being built; the dogs still had their little pen, and the hogs shared the barn lot with the cows.  Daddy continued finding ways to not get things done.  He was too busy, politicking, or he had to go hunting or fishing, were his excuses.   Mama just got madder.

 One day, in early August, daddy came home with a brand-new bass boat, the latest model.  It had all the bells and whistles, wonderful motor.  Everything a fine fisherman needed to enjoy on his days off.   

         Mama hit the ceiling but held her tongue.

 Two weeks later, the legislative session began, and daddy left for Baton Rouge.  The first thing mama did was call the dealer that gave the most expensive quote and ordered air conditioners.  She told them to install window units in all three bedrooms, the dining room and living room as well as the laundry room and to send the bill to Blair's Pest Control where it would be paid promptly.  “Oh, and please write at the top of the ticket, in bold letters, 'Thanks for the bass boat.'  We love it,” she told them.  They did.

    

Daddy never said another word and we no longer had to wring our sheets out every morning after waking.  Life was cool for all the Blairs.  I think my daddy learned a lesson that day. 

   Daddy learned to never underestimate the power of a hot, mad woman.

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.

                                    The Old Gray Mule Vegetable Stand

   A MEMORY

Wow, this sounds like a title to a great book.  Recently, I was in Alexandria for sister Becky’s funeral and drove out to my daddy’s farm where he raised Shetland ponies and sweet corn.  Yep, strange combination, isn’t it! 

            Daddy had bought this place years ago just outside of town near LSU-A.  We lived in town at that time.  In 1963, the year I went off to college, my parents moved to the farm.  I love to tell people that they moved when I left for college and didn’t tell me where.  It used to irritate my mama.

The house was located on highway 71S before they expanded the highway to accommodate the traffic to the college.   So, they moved into a house further back that they used to rent out. The garage stayed the same just off the new side feeder road and became a vegetable stand. 

            There was that beautiful old oak tree right next to it.  Daddy sold vegetables at that stand for a while.  There was always a gallon jar sitting on a table filled with money.  A sign next to it said, “I’ll be back shortly.  Just take what you need and leave your money in the jar.”  A funny thing: Daddy believed in the honesty system and that jar was never stolen and it always had money in it.

            In June and July, when the corn was in season that vegetable stand was an extremely busy place. Daddy would sit back in an old cowhide rocking chair in his overalls smoking a cigar or chewing tobacco and enjoying seeing and talking…well mostly telling tall tales…and sell his corn.  If people stopped by that didn’t know him, he’d let them think he was the hired hand which was seldom.  Everybody stopped by to see senator Cecil Blair whether it was to talk politics or just to sit back have a drink and chew the fat.  Hired workers brought the corn up front and the fresh corn would be piled into his fishing boat sitting under that beautiful oak tree.

 

         Dr. Glynn Bryant                         one of the parties                               food galore

            At the end of the corn season, we always had a party to celebrate the last harvest. Well, daddy had the party, mama would go nuts because he never took care of details.  She would be running around, fussing, and fuming because paper plates, plastic cups, paper towels had to be purchased. What side dishes should she serve always drove her up the wall.  Thankfully ladies stepped in and called friends to bring side dishes and we would provide the brisket and of course the corn.  Lights would be strung from the shed to the tree and wherever.  The day of no matter how many seasons we had the harvest meal party, always brought mama into a tizzy.

            Hay bales would be brought from the barn and spread all around the place for seating.  A borrowed table or two would be ready for the side dishes.  Daddy would hold court while boiling the corn, a huge pot would hold the melted butter while a friend or two would take care of the brisket.  Huge washtubs and coolers held the drinks.

                  

Me and Marty                         The Trinity: Dr. Larry Taylor, Bishop Greco, Rabbi Hinchin

            Mama was always cool as a cucumber once people began to arrive.  There was so much laughter, a lot of hustling and bustling about.  Rabbis, preachers, priests (Bishop Greco), politicians, mayors, sometimes a governor, professors, would drop by, including the plain folks.  And always, one of the clergy would be asked to say the blessing.  And, as always one of them would become the butt of a joke where daddy would pile all the corn cobs from others on a plate in front of them for a picture.

We’d all be sitting on the hay bales eating to our hearts content the last of the sweet corn.  The food never seemed to run out.  Children would be running around looking at the animals in the lot next to the shed that had geese, deer, mules, ducks, llamas, pigs, peacocks.  Some would be brave and climb on the hay bales in the barn.

The party would go on into the night.  This is a favorite memory.  I’m so glad that we stopped by the shed which was still there and used by the current owner as a crawfish shack.  It brought back a flood of memories of those carefree days. 

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.

8/19/2022

Dear Becky,

            Today is a gloomy day.  We have had rain.  Lots of it…more than we’ve had all summer.  Thunderclaps so loud last night you’d think it hit the house directly.  Today rain and more rain. It will be the same for days they say.  Poor Gumbo has been so nervous and is clinging very close to us.  Her actions reminded me of our commiserating with each other about our dogs and their fears.

            I have not shed a tear, not had a knee-bending, breath-taking cry since the day before your funeral. Not even a quiet eye-watering, tear slowly running down my cheek sniffle.  Oh, I cried for Lynea on Friday the twelfth (so thankful it wasn’t Friday the thirteenth) and that night I went to the ground when my knees buckled wondering how I was going to be able to make it through another funeral the next day.

            I didn’t cry Saturday at Emmanuel. I laughed with others at stories about you. I told stories to others.  I even laughed when someone told me on the phone that she taught with you for several years.  She said, in one of those deep southern accents, “Nippy, I didn’t love your sister, but I did like her an awful lot.”

            There were so many people sending messages, I had to silence my phone.  So many people giving hugs and praising you for your excellent teaching skills.  It was a joyous day celebrating the “you” of you. I didn’t cry when others did…when their voices broke remembering how you made a difference to them.

            Saturday morning, I’m not sure if anyone noticed, but I picked up your box of ashes before people arrived and held you next to my heart…almost laughing that maybe I was stirring the ashes as I moved them, stirring my troubles away.  I wanted to open the box and set you free, but I didn’t. Instead, I placed the box, carefully, on the table in the middle of all your pictures and lingered my hand on the top, quietly petting it and talked quietly to you.  It was a moment between just me and you as brother and sister.  I told you how unfair I felt about the way you had to leave us.  How unfair it was that I was the only sibling left…even though I knew that Bobby was still here.  I won’t go into the details why we left him out, but I know you understood.  There were so many “what-ifs” that day.  I didn’t cry then.  I just smiled and enjoyed the moment with all our friends.

            When we got home, I took one of your pictures and placed it on the table next to my computer.  I have looked at it daily and not shed a tear, just smiled my biggest smile right back at’cha. 

            Last night I listened for a late text in the middle of the night so I could say, “OH, Becky!  Do you know what time it is?  I’m trying to sleep, for goodness sake.”  I didn’t cry then. 

But today!  Maybe it’s because of the gloom of the day or my taking Frances to a doctor appointment with her walker and getting soaking wet even with Garry’s weathered yellow raincoat. I cried.  So many memories have surfaced that I want to pick up the phone and share them with you.  Yesterday was our forty-ninth anniversary and I didn’t get a call from you or a silly cartoon that you sent. It hit me hard today that I had not heard from you.

I know we didn’t communicate every day, not even every week, but we knew each was there and could parlay whenever we desired. 

My tears are not helping me type and I have had to stop and blow my nose or wipe a tear away.  The trash can is filling up with tissues.  I love you dear sister.  We’ll be fine down here. I’ve been through this before with Jane and mama and daddy.  Heather made it safely home.  LOVE, Nippy

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.

THE CURSE OF HAVING BECKY TISDALE/LOVE/WELDAY AS AN OLDER SISTER

Story 3 (I think)

 

In so many ways, I feel jealous of all the students and friends of Becky who shared so many loving stories of discussions, encouragement, debates.  I got encouragement a lot from her, don’t be mistaken.  I knew she was so very proud of me as a little brother and supported my art. In fact, she adored my art.  But we didn’t ever have deep discussions or debates about anything.  She saved that for others.  Our conversations mostly centered on family and what problems different ones were having.  She wanted to be the peacemaker and she did it well.  We didn’t share deep theological ideas.  We certainly didn’t talk politics although she and I were of a like mind there.  When we were kids and daddy was in politics, she loved to discuss with him different candidates and such.  They had long conversations about what each party stood for, what each candidate had to offer.

   I saw him differently.  I was the one he took politicking with him around the parish.  I was to be seen and not heard.  I had to wait quietly in the car while he “would just be a minute,” which turned into hours.  I had to take care of the Shetland pony and ride kids on our pony cart while he made his speeches. I had to listen to the snotty nose kids who were rude and said they would tell their parents to not vote for daddy, if I didn’t let them take the reins.  Daddy was too tired to discuss anything with me and I was too shy to bring anything up.

 I wish Becky and I had had those discussions.  I wish I could have known her better.  We really didn’t do much anything together, just the two of us.

But one thing that Becky and I really liked doing together was visit our grandparents in south Louisiana…well, after they got indoor plumbing.  The outhouse was not our favorite place to visit.  None of us liked going out there at all.  Of course, I would make noises and such when the girls were there.  And we were always afraid there might be a snake nearby.  The chamber pots at night were a blessing until the morning when I, the male, had to take them out.  My mother’s parents lived in the old dogtrot home that my grandfather grew up in.  We loved that house and the large rooms. 

            Our favorite place was a hallway between the bedroom and the huge dining room.   That hall was like magic.  Grandpa had made bookshelves lining all the walls from floor to ceiling.  It was filled with their entire collection of Reader’s Digest and National Geographic magazines, some dating back to the 1930’s (or beyond), and we tried to read all of them.  Becky being the bossy one ordered me to climb to the top shelf and choose a book or two for her since she was athletically challenged. Of course, I did.  To this day I’m not sure what information she had about me to threaten me so.

Once a digest was retrieved, we would curl up on one of the wrought iron beds or the cot on the screened front porch with one of the dogs and read to our hearts content. We did share what we read with each other.  So, maybe I did have those deep discussions with her after all.

            Those were magical days where the two of us enjoyed each other’s company.  At night we’d gather on the cot on the porch and listen to the night sounds of owls and sometimes a screech of some animal in the woods nearby.  We didn’t dare let on that we were scared but we did scoot closer to each other under the handmade quilt. Other times we would play games.  Our favorite was “Big Fat Woman in a Vinegar Jar,” something Grandma made up.  She would ask us a question and we would have to answer without laughing, ‘big fat woman in a vinegar jar.’ Grandma had the most outrageous questions that made us laugh before answering.  We would also gather around the radio and listen to Amos and Andy or The Shadow.

            Those were the days where we were closest.  We didn’t have friends or telephones, landline, of course, to call our friends on. We just had the company of each other. 

            Looking back on it, those were the days I treasure with my sister.  Oh, Becky, what fun we had and what arguments we had too.  Writing this I want to call you and tell you what I am doing and see if my memory is the same as yours.

            I want to remind you how we used to make you mad because we said that when you were born you were vaccinated with a phonograph needle. I want to laugh again how when you were talking and I had a severe speech impediment, you would say, “Hi, I’m Becky and this is my brother, Nippy.  He doesn’t talk much but he’s all right.  He doesn’t bite anymore.”  I want to laugh with you again how when you and mama went shopping together and I was six.  I turned around to daddy and said, “Hi.” Daddy was shocked and said, “Boy, I didn’t know you knew how to talk,” and my reply was, “Well, Becky never gave me a chance to say anything.”

            Your funeral was glorious. Since you couldn’t find the book where you wrote the directions, and Carl couldn’t either, we just had to get our heads together about what to do.  Phone calls and texts between Katy, Arkansas and Wales filled our time.  We also found pictures some of which you probably won’t approve of but tough.  You should have been better organized where you keep things. 

Your friends and former students said the most wonderful things about you.  I am so very proud you were my sister. I didn’t always see it, but you were a guiding light to me.  We did you proud.  I do hope you appear 5’9” but I’m sure you are still that almost five-foot dynamo taking care of the other angels. You might be so short they call you the littlest angel. Ha!  I know the Lord is glad you are with him, but please, don’t talk his ear off.   I love you dearly and will miss you, always.  Hug mama and daddy for me and especially Jane.   As daddy would say, “Sini die”. 

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.