L. BEAU BOUDREAUX

1 Samuel 2:12 Eli’s sons were wicked men.  They had no regard for the Lord.

 

I don’t know his real name, not sure if anybody does, probably not even his mama.  He has just been L. Beau to all who know him (and many do but mostly for the wrong reasons since he has been jailed on more than one occasion).  I met him while fishing at Grand Isle.  His third-grade teacher, Frances’ aunt, Mary Frances, known as Aunt Bye to everyone, told me his story.

“L. Beau grew up on Bayou Lafourche, playing football, when he did attend school, and barely passing from year to year.  L. Beau could pass the ball further than anyone else in the state,” she said.   “It was the way his elbow snapped when he released the ball.  Rumor has it that the Principal, Mr. Panatela, who was also the football coach, socially promoted L. Beau because of his skills on the field,” she continued, “but don’t quote me.  I’ll deny it. I need to keep my job.” 

As we passed people fishing on the side of the bayou, Aunt Frances continued, “Mr. Panatela had a plaque hanging on the back wall of his office that said:  A school that has a great athlete who brings fame and attention to it is a most sought-after prize.   And he lived by this motto.  He wasn’t a particularly good principal, but he knew what a treasure he had.  It didn’t hurt that the School Board President was his sister either.”                

 “I’ve kept up with L. Beau, you know, since I taught him in the third grade,” she smiled.  “L. Beau lives on the outskirts of Leeville, just before Grand Isle, in a rundown, neglected house, built up two stories high because of the high water, with his third wife and seven children,” she said.  “He doesn’t have a permanent job.”  I asked to see the place and she drove the two of us down the bayou to a fork in the road that led out to camps in the marshes.  It was a neglected, desolate place with children running around, barely clothed, and barefoot.  Some seemed to be crabbing. 

We stopped.  “That’s him,” she said, “the one on the porch.  Ask about his football days, first.  He might talk with you.”   L. Beau was leaning against a porch rail, half-drunk with a six-pack by his side. We talked football for a while and after we visited briefly, I asked where he worked. 

“I work for that woman inside,” he smiled, “cause she lets me sleep with her. Hell, no!  I ain’t interested in no real job, as long as I got a warm bed, a good woman to cook for me and keep me happy, you know what I mean,” he said while jabbing me with his elbow and laughing. “Why, hell, I have my beer, a shotgun and can go crabbing or fishing anytime I want.  Life ain’t no better,” he said.

“But what about the children,” I replied, “Don’t they deserve a better role model from the man of the house?”

“Hell, they got one.  A man is someone who can hold his own in a barroom brawl and come out standing still holding his drink,” he shouted while escorting us back to our car. 

 “Yes sir, gimme a cold beer, a good woman and my fishing boat and I’m a happy man.  Now, git before I fetch my shotgun!  Nice seeing you again, teach.” 

On our drive back to Larose, Aunt Bye shook her head in sadness.   “His family is growing up the same way he did.  Education does not matter to them.  In fact, I doubt if any of them attend school on a regular basis.

I agreed.  Poor L. Beau.  He sure is missing the boat as far as education is concerned.  BLESS HIS HEART!

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