ESTHER SUE WILLIAMS

“By the time I got home at night, my eyes were so chlorinated I saw rings around the lights."  Esther Williams

 

The first time I heard her name was during the 1988 Summer Olympics in Seoul, South Korea. I had traveled there with my friend, a reporter for a newspaper.  There we were sitting in the arena and watching the Synchronized Swimming Event.  Two ladies were sitting a few rows below us and talking rather loudly.

 “There she is, Lois, she’s there on the end.”

“Yes!  I see her, Betty.  Yoo Hoo, Esther Sue!  Here we are. Lands, how did she ever get to be in the Olympics? That family was nothing but poor white trash!  After her mama died, that girl went to live in some houseboat in the swamps, I thought we were through seeing her mess up our beautiful bayou.”

“I know, darlin’, can you believe it?” said Betty, “Our little swamp rat in the Olympics.”

“Quiet,” said Lois, “she might hear you.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter.  Nobody here will care,” Betty said under her breath.  “You know, I knew her family.  The whole bunch should have been locked up somewhere.  They were strange people.  It wasn’t normal, I tell you.”

“Well, that mama of hers was strange, since she let her practice in the bayou, I mean, who did they think they were?  Decent folks would never have allowed it.  That bayou's too pretty, we didn't need her messing up the waters.   I can’t believe she made it to the Olympics.”

“I hear that some young handsome fellow is paying her way,” said Lois.  “He was heading to Grand Isle to fish when he saw her swimmin’ in the bayou as he drove by and thought she was drownin’.  Jumped in to save her from what I heard from June over at the grocery,” she sneered.

“Imagine his embarrassment.  I’m sure he feels obligated, after all the fuss she made.”

“Maybe it’s blackmail,” they both laughed.

 My friend and I couldn’t enjoy that event past that conversation because we wanted to know more.  For one thing, we didn’t know which one was Esther Sue and furthermore we wanted to know why these ladies seemed to be here just to gossip about somebody.  Were they hoping some reporter would hear them and interview them?  And what would they say? I thought they were just nosy snobs. We wanted to know more so we moved directly behind them.

 “Excuse me ladies,” my friend said in his best reporter’s voice. “I’m from the national news.  Did I hear you talking about Esther Sue?”

 They blushed and stammered. 

 “Oh, yes,” eventually, the heavier of the two said, “We’re great friends of the family.  Good people those Williams.  They always did so much for the community.  That poor child was practicing in the bayou because her pool had some problems.  I offered to let them use our pool, but they turned it down, can you believe that?  Our pool is Olympic size with waterfalls and a slide.  It sits just behind our fifteen-room house we built last year from our inheritance.  My husband is in oil, you know. Why would she not want to swim there?  She’s ruining the neighborhood by swimming in the swamp,” blurted Lois before she realized that she was gushing and making a fool of herself.  Betty wanted to see our credentials.

 We gave each other a knowing look, smiled, and excused ourselves.  The ladies began make snide remarks about us as we returned to our seats.  My friend immediately made inquiries as to Esther Sue while continuing to watch the event.

 It seems that Esther Sue was a natural, although she apparently practiced alone every evening in the bayou.  When we interviewed her coach, he said he couldn’t believe that one who practiced alone could be in such harmony with the others. She seemed to have an innate sense of her surroundings, never missing a cue. 

 As we watched the event, these snotty ladies soon came to stand in awe of the young girl’s abilities, shouting for joy when Ester Sue’s team won the Gold Medal.

 After the ceremony, they both made a beeline to the arena to greet Esther Sue.  They kept shouting her name, "You Hoo, Esther Sue, You Hoo."   We watched with amusement as Esther Sue ignored them, pretending she had no idea who they were.

 This is the background story my friend uncovered after interviewing Esther Sue. She told him that she always loved the water.  It seemed to summon her, entice her, embrace her, baptize her in its soothing powers.  She loved to spend hours letting the tranquilizing waters cascade over her face.  It became a daily cleansing ritual to go to the water and sit half immersed.  She’d let her hand slowly sway in the stream while leaning against a rock, dreaming of being a mermaid.

 Water has been a part of her entire life.  She had been raised in a small cabin quietly tucked safely in a hidden part of the Amite River. When she was 4 months old her mother took her to the banks, placed her in a reed basket, lowered it into the water, and sometimes plunging her underneath, much to Esther Sue's delight. 

 When Esther Sue was almost five, her mother again took her to the banks of the river, tied a rope around her waist and thrust her into the current. “Swim, baby, swim,” she murmured.  “Mama won’t let anything happen to you.”  Esther Sue's smile would light up as she began swinging her arms and kicking her legs.

 That summer, Esther Sue became a proficient swimmer. The water exhilarated her.  She felt a wild abandon and a freedom in diving or floating or performing underwater acrobatics in the Amite.     

 At the age of nine they moved to bayou Lafourche.  It was here that her mother told her of her dreams, that she had always wished to be like the famed movie star, Esther Williams.  She had spent hours at the cinema to see this movie star perform acrobatics in the water.  “I even married that man John Williams, whom I didn't love, for his last name,” she said.  “And when you were born, baby, I just had to name you Esther Sue.  I always wanted you to be famous like her.  That woman changed my life.”

 As a teenager, Esther Sue became an orphan.  She began making daily pilgrimages to the water to replenish her soul. She worked as a waitress, on occasion, during the cold months and began to devote her summertime in the swamps swimming among the cypress trees.  Her mother had taught her how to raise a garden and between the food she grew and the fish she caught Esther Sue never really worried about anything else.   The people on the bayou did not like this young lady who spent her days swimming in the bayou.

 One day, Esther Sue noticed a houseboat abandoned in the swamps and began to get it back into shape. She worked months repairing boards that were rotted, painting, and sealing the outside to make it float again.   Evenings were spent sitting on the deck, fishing, or playing on a guitar. Her dream began to be complete.   Eventually she moved into the houseboat.  That’s where the gossip began.

 From that day forward, Esther Sue's entire life focused on becoming the first and foremost solo synchronized swimmer in history, practicing daily in the swamps hoping for her skill to become an Olympic sport.  She wanted to make her mama proud.

Isn’t it funny how fame makes even the worst of enemies’ best friends?  Bless Lois and Betty’s hearts.  I know it was a shock to read about Esther Sue in the papers and to hear her story on the national news.

 And bless Esther Sue’s heart, I know her mama would have been proud.

 NOTE:  For the younger generation, Esther Williams was a real person, a famous movie star who was known for her beautiful water acrobats in several movies.  This story is fictional.  I loved seeing Esther Williams in the movies. And no!  I never went to the 1988 summer Olympics.

 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.

This is a story I wrote years ago and well worth repeating.  Yesterday was the hottest day so far and summer has barely begun. 

MAMA AND THE AIR CONDITIONER

“Pick your battles, she muttered to herself.”                                                                

 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.  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 boil.

 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.   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 in Alexandria, Louisiana.  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, a favorite gathering place for politicians in Alexandria. He had meals with his cronies, while we ate peanut butter sandwiches.  Nothing seemed to work.  Mama was at her wits end.

 Mama let daddy know that the barn wasn't being built; the dogs didn’t have their improved dog pen, and the hogs shared the barn lot with the cows.  Yet, daddy continued finding ways to not get things done.  He was too busy, politicking, or hunting or fishing with school board presidents or influential people in his district.  At least those 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.  I think my daddy learned a lesson that day.

 This was the day Daddy learned to never underestimate the power of a hot, mad woman.  Life was finally cool for all the Blairs.

© 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.

NERO ROBICHAUX

To Rome: “If to smoke you turn, I shall not cease to fiddle why you burn.”  Nero

 

     
             Nero playing his fiddle!

 Nero Robichaux is the master of his kingdom which consists of a moonshine still hidden back in the woods, an undernourished stray dog, some chickens and a rooster, some hogs and two changes of clothes.  He lives in a run down, one bedroom house that he shares with his grand pappy, the man who raised him, and the animals.  It wasn’t a good raising.  Most of his memories consist of hard work or abuse.  Since the time he could hold a hoe, he was sent to the fields to help his grand pappy, sharecropping the land that doesn’t even belong to them.

Nero has never been the brightest bulb in the box.  They lived far back in the woods near Lake Charles, Louisiana.  His education came from the man who raised him, a man that only had a 2^nd grade education himself.   Since grand pappy thought school was a stupid idea, he never taught Nero anything except how to count on his fingers, make change and sharpen tools.  Nero was lonely. He wanted friends so one day left his grand pappy and found his way to school.  He didn’t learn much the few years he went except how to name every type of tree in his surroundings, and locate plants that are edible, or used for medicinal purposes.  

When Nero was 14 his Grand pappy died in a barroom fight.  He was left alone.    The dogs had always been company, but they weren't enough.  He wanted more.  Nero dropped out of school, taught himself how to make homemade remedies for all types of illnesses from the herbs in the woods and set out to make his fortune.  He concocted remedies for inflammation, nausea, digestion, migraines and anxiety, and set off to make his fortune.  It didn’t work and he ended up back in the broken-down cabin living in squalor.  

One day out of boredom Nero searched the house and discovered a fiddle.  This was a huge surprise for he had never heard his Grand Pappy play.  Nero thought that maybe if he learned to play it, he could at least make some money on street corners, perhaps even move to New Orleans, and play around Jackson Square.

He taught himself how to play.  The dogs loved it.             

One night, not being able to sleep in the heat of the summer night, Nero took Grand pappy’s mattress out to the porch hoping to catch a breeze or two. As he shoved the mattress outdoors, he noticed how lumpy it seemed to be.  Nero investigated and discovered that the old man had been hiding a gold mine.  There was lots of money that apparently had been hidden inside that mattress all these years. 

Nero gathered all the money and one of the dogs, and they moved to New Orleans planning to sell his homemade remedies in the back alleys, or at least play his fiddle. 

Things went well for a while, until poor Nero bragged about his fortune.  Late that night he was robbed, finding himself back on the streets. Nero hitched a ride back to Lake Charles, and began peddling his remedies without any trouble, thanks in part to his fine fiddling.   

            Nero began to make enough to eat on until Hurricane Rita danced into town.   Poor Nero lost everything—the house, the dogs, the chickens, and the hogs—everything except his Grand pappy’s fiddle.

Here he is seen playing his fiddle on what’s left of his roof while Rita flooded the area.

              He is one of the least of these my children.

 © 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.