BONNY BRADY

Bonnie Brady is a good ole’ Louisiana girl, born and bred.  As a child, she had trees to climb, creeks to explore, secret places to hide under the canopy of pines and most importantly, horses to ride.  Bonnie loved horses; in fact, she was given one as her first birthday present by her grandfather.    She grew up on horses riding as often as possible.   When she couldn't sleep at night, Bonnie would walk out to the pasture and just lie on the back of her favorite horse, staring at the stars, telling secrets to the moon.  Sometimes her mother would find her stretched out on the horse reading under the shade of a tree. 

She was raised by a single mother and knew next to nothing about her father, often wishing he could be around.  She shared this secret dream with the moon and her horse, Goldie, on those nights when she was restless and unable to sleep. 

Bonnie loves everything Louisiana.  In fact, she has a small tattoo of a crawfish in a gators mouth on her left arm and one of Louisiana on her right – got it one time in New Orleans at Mardi Gras, against her mother’s wishes.

When Bonnie was ten, her mama shared how she used to be a barrel racer and followed rodeo circuits.   She took her to rodeos in the area, especially Mr. Ted Johnson's in Hineston, Louisiana.  As she grew older Bonnie’s friends would gather at a friend’s farm and ride together in the Grand Entry.  Once she even got to carry the American flag.  By the time Bonnie was fourteen she was barrel racing just like her mama.  It became her passion and, besides, it attracted boys, good old cowboys.  Strong muscular cowboys.  Muscular, bull riding cowboys.   I don't know which she loved most, the bulls or the cowboys riding the bulls, but Bonnie loved that part of the rodeo the best. 

This worried her mama; afraid she was following in her footsteps.

The dream of any cowgirl following the circuit of rodeos is to be the Rodeo Queen.  When Bonnie was seventeen her dream was fulfilled.  You would think she was Dale Evans the way she strutted around on her horse waving to the crowd.   Yet, she was unhappy.  She wished for her daddy to see her.

She questioned her mama about him.  Bonnie’s mother just said that her father worked offshore before he died.  When Bonnie inquired as to why there weren’t any pictures of him, she gave mysterious answers.  The only information Bonnie ever really knew was that it was a short marriage.  

It wasn’t until she went through her mother’s closet, secretly one day, that she disclosed her father’s name and background.  Buried deep in a shoe box was a wedding certificate.  Bonnie discovered his name was Davis Brown from Houston.  Digging deeper in the hidden shoe box she learned that he never worked offshore but that he had been a bull rider following the circuit, never making it big.   She also found his picture.  Tall, dark, and handsome, with coal black hair, blue eyes, and the most wonderful smile she had ever seen, just like those tall, muscular cowboys she was crazy about.  

Bonnie wanted to know more.  She forced her mother to talk about this mysterious Davis Brown.  Her mother explained that she met him at the Houston Rodeo and she, “was smitten by his coal black hair, his muscular torso, and those blue eyes – oh, those blue eyes!”  They married after three dates, and she became pregnant immediately.  He left her, just a month before she gave birth, running off with another cowgirl.  “I divorced him and shut him out of my mind, moving back to Louisiana, with my parents, to raise you, Bonnie.”

In 1996, when she was twenty, Bonnie moved to Texas, hoping to find her daddy.  She was following the circuit as a barrel rider when she met a man that reminded her of the mysterious tall, dark, and handsome Davis Brown.  

Johnny Brady was a professional bull rider from Amarillo, Texas.  He was tall, muscular, and handsome, with mysterious sky-blue eyes.  She admired his strength and strong morals.  Deciding he was a keeper, they dated.  Eventually, Bonnie married him, upsetting her mother. But Johnny wasn’t at all like Davis Brown. 

Johnny and Bonnie now have three children.  When time permits, Bonnie, Johnny, and the kids travel the PBR circuit together.  

One day while watching him practice on their ranch, Bonnie decided to try bull riding herself, against Johnny’s’ better judgement.  This woman was a determined woman.  She became quite good and wanted to do more.  Johnny was impressed, deciding to be her coach.  

These days, she rides bulls in the small rodeos.

Her current goal is to become the first female professional bull rider. 

Bonnie has also added to her tattoos.  She now has a small lone star under the gator and one in the shape of Texas under the Louisiana outline. She is one happy cowgirl.

© 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.

    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!

© 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.