Terrel Bit by the Dead Snake

Summer time in Franklin, Louisiana was a great time for me, Paul, Terry and Terrel. The four of us spent most of our time riding our bikes, playing ball, swimming in the new swimming pool or just hanging out in the park. The park was our world and the new swimming pool was a great addition to our world. But swimming in crystal clear chlorinated water with no snakes and gators wasn't all that exciting. It was almost like taking a bath. The pool meant that we didn't have to swim in the muddy water of the Bayou Teche anymore although jumping off the old Sterling swing bridge was a lot of fun and something to brag about if you were brave enough to jump off of the top truss. I never made it to the top truss nor do I recall Terry or Terrel making it to the top but Terry insisted that Paul had to be part monkey because he climbed everything in sight. Climbing the bridge truss for Paul was a piece of cake. And, although Paul showed no fear in climbing the truss one simple word sent spine tingling fear into all of us. SNAKE. All someone had to do was holler "snake!" and there would be four boys throwing a jet ski size wake, swimming at brake neck speed toward anything that you could climb upon to get out of the water. None of us liked snakes of any kind which makes this one hot summer afternoon hanging out in the park an oddity. We were in the shelled parking lot of the swimming pool picking up clam shells and seeing how far we could sail them when Terry spotted a snake in the grass at the edge of the parking lot. Defying our profane protest, he started poking at the snake with a stick. We figured the hot sun must have got to him but when he reached down and picked up the snake by the tail we knew he had lost his mind. We had heard that some people in the hills of Appalachia would fool with some snakes because of their religion but these three Catholic boys in the bayou country wasn't about to mess with a snake. Now even in the hot summer time we all wore blue jeans with cuffs turned up, white tee shirts and black high top tennis shoes, except Terrel. When summer came Terrel hardly ever wore shoes and most of the time rolled his blue jeans up just below his knees. You are probably wondering what in the world does this have to do with a snake. Well, had Terrel had his pants rolled down it would have been just another day hanging out in the park. Terry started swinging that snake in circles above his head like a lasso, after we stopped bumping into each other, we all started running in different directions. It was a Norman Rockwell moment. That day proved the old addage to be true about not having to be the fastest in the group you just have to be able to outrun one person. Well, Terry had that snake twirling above his head chasing us and we were running and hollering like a bunch of heathens and we weren't hollering anything nice. That particular afternoon Terrel was the slower one and when Terry let that snake fly it hit Terrel and the fangs scrapped his leg just below the knee where his pants were rolled up. Now the chase had reversed and it was Terrel chasing Terry across the park. When we all finally caught up with one another we dropped to the ground exhausted laughing our heads off, until we notice the two trickles of blood on Terrels leg. We all knew what a snake bite looked like and that looked like a snake bite. Now in those days we knew the procedure for a snake bite was to cut across the bite with a knife and suck the poisoned blood from the cut and spit it out. We just knew these things but none of us was willing to do it, besides the snake didn't look like a rattler or a copper head so we figured it wasn't poisonous. But the fact that none of us were snake experts, what we figured wasn't comforting to Terrel. We hung out in the park that afternoon watching to see if Terrel's leg would swell up or turn purple but it only turn red around the bite. Of course Terrel didn't appreciate us speculating about amputation and conjuring up wild images of a wooden leg. Bright and early the next morning we met under the huge moss draped oak tree near the wading pool in the park. Terrel still had his leg and was doing okay. The rest of the summer we were cautious when swimming in the Teche and we made a pact not to holler "SNAKE" unless we really saw one. But time passed and the following summer lazily rolled in and as always with the passage of time we forgot our fears of that hot summer day when Terrel got bit by the dead snake. "SNAKE" was hollered from the bridge again and once again that summer we swam like fish trying to get out of the water.

Coming Out of the Coffin

The summer I was fifteen years old I began living alone in the house I grew up in across the street from the park in Franklin. You see, my Dad worked as a dredge boat operator and he had to work where ever Brown and Root had a contract which was in Texas the majority of the time. Well, sometmes my Mom and I would go live with Dad for maybe a year or so then she and I would come back to Franklin to stay for a while. Needless to say I changed schools many times. Well the summer before my junior year in high school Momma decided we were going to Texas to live with Dad again. I told her I was tired of changing schools and that I wanted to stay in Franklin. I'll never forget, it was a beautiful Sunday morning and I had gone to mass. When I returned home there was some money on the kitchen table with a note telling me to use the money to pay the utility bills and buy groceries and that every week she would send me an allowance. The first couple of weeks were a little scarey but after a while I had settled in and from that time all through high school I lived alone. What does all this have to do with a coffin? Well, I'll tell you. When everyone found out that I had no parents at home sometimes some of my friends would ask to stay at my house if they couldn't go home because they had been drinking and didn't want their parents of find out. Well this particular night four of my friends from Hanson High School had gone to a wedding and later showed up at a party at the country club all chakayed (drunk). John Dugas, Gordon Boozer, Lionel Mire and Johnny Schexnayder were in no condition to face their parents that night so Dugas asked if they could stay at my house. It was okay with me but Schexnayder who had already jumped in the swimming pool and fell in a couple of mud puddles was already passed out. So we threw him in the trunk of my car and Dugas, Boozer and Mire followed in their car. When we got to my house we unloaded Schexnayder who was out cold and put him in the back bed room on his back in the bed. Now this back bed room that we had in my house was not like everyones normal bed room. It was a very small bed room, the whole house was about 750 square feet, and in one corner was an alter where my Momma, even though she was living in Texas, practiced hoodoo. Hoodoo not Voodoo, there is a difference. On the alter there were statues and different colored candles and she would cast spells and put or remove gris gris on people. The candles burned for nine days so if she needed another one lit she would call me and tell me which color. Needless to say some of the neighorbors were scared to death of Momma, but honestly I didn't think anything of it, that was just the way it was. Well, Schexnayder is passed out in the back bed, Dugas and Boozer on the living room floor and Mire on the sofa and me, the only sober one in the house, in the front bed room sleeping peacfully. About four o'clock in the morning we were all jolted out of our slumber by the most awful screaming and hollering any of us had every heard coming out of the back bedroom. You could hear the fear quivering in those screams. All four of us arrived at the back bedroom door at the same time and were peering in like a bunch of curious racoons with eyes wide open. Schexnayder was in the bed on his back hollering and screaming and flaying his arms like a mad man. After a few tense moments Dugas got up enough nerve to jump on him and shake him to his senses. Dugas was screaming at him to calm down and tell us what was wrong. With Dugas screaming at Schexnayder, Schexnayder flaying and hollering at the image of candle flames dancing on the ceiling and the three of us thinking Schexnayder was possessed by a spirit, there was quite a rukus going on in that little bed room at four in the morning. When the screaming and hollering stopped, Schexnayder, exhausted and scared, finally calmed down enough to tell us that when he opened his eyes in that small room and saw candle flames dancing on the ceiling and when he lifted his head he saw the statues on that alter in the corner of the room he began screaming and reaching for the sides of the coffin because he thought he was at Iberts Funeral Home and he was coming out of the coffin. I bet it was a long time before he took another drink.

Hockey Summer

In the absence of computers and video games in the 50's we played outside from sun up to sun down. We always had some type of activity going on in the neighborhood. The only organized sport we had in our small town was baseball, but in the neighborhood we would pick sides and play football, basketball, softball, roll-for-the-bat, marbles or hockey. Hockey! No kidding, well it was our version of hockey. We used roller skates and played on the tennis court at the National Guard Armory (which is where the rec. center is now). We would take down the tennis net and set an apple crate at each end of the court as our goals. Nothing was store bought except of course the skates. Our sticks were made of 1 x 2 wood for the handle and a piece of plywood cut to the shape of a blade with a rat tail saw. We tried using a tennis ball for a puck but we could not skate fast enough to keep up with the ball so I cut a 2x4 in the shape of a square and used that as a puck. Now these skates that we used were not the fancy shoe skates you might see at todays skating rinks. No sir, they were metal platforms with four metal wheels. You would strap the back of the skate to your ankle and at the front of the skate there were these vice like clips that you tightened with a skate key until it was snug at the toe of your shoe. However, the clips did not work well on high top tennis shoes so we would make heavy duty rubber bands from an old bicycle tube and put them around the toe to hold the skate in place. We knew nothing about hockey but we sure learned how to roller skate that summer. Paul was the fastest on wheels but fastest didn't necessarily count in our hockey games. If you could get the blade of your stick in front of someone's wheels fast didn't matter. As soon as your wheels locked up you were thinking of how you were going to land on that concrete without getting a brush burn. Yea, me, Paul, Terry and Terrell had those skates rolling every day that summer. We didn't know anything about blue lining, face off and off sides, our objective was to go down the court without falling and get the 2x4 puck in the apple crate. We were joined that summer by two boys who had recently moved into the neighborhood from Ville Platte. None of us knew where Ville Platte was located but we knew it could not have been close to Franklin because they had a funny accent. Raymond and Glen Taylor were brothers who lived in Fourniers brick yard near the bayou. Raymond was short and stocky like a cannon ball and his younger brother Glen was tall and lanky. Somwhere along the way Raymond became known as Catman. He was a ferocious football player but he couldn't skate worth a dime. Watching Catman skate was like watching a dizzy man walk a tight rope. So Catman played hockey with one skate on his right foot and a brown crushed velvet sofa cushion tied to his behind with a rope. Sometimes on Saturday night we would ride our bikes down town to the skating rink which was located on Willow Street next to the railroad tracks. A large tent was set up with a wood floor and they rented skates with wood wheels. We skated around that rink to the blaring music like we knew what we were doing. I don't know who owned the skating rink, but every summer they would set up in the same place and they always had a guy running the place who could skate fast and backwards. Impressing the girls. Show off.

Ruckus in the Cane Field

No doubt about it, my brother Percy is the best brother any little brother could have. Because my Momma worked, the responsibility to take care of me was thrust upon by brother. I don't remember him being upset about it, although at times I'm sure he was not happy with the situation. In September of '53 I had just entered second grade and Percy began his senior year at Franklin High School. At that time the elementary grades and the high school grades were on the same campus in different buildings. We walked to school together, me in a half trot, trying to keep up with him and a couple of his friends and Percy having to stop ever so often to wait for me. I stayed after school while he had football practice, or he worked in the FFA garden. On weekends he would pedal me on his bicycle about two miles, part of it down a gravel road, to see his steady girlfriend. Yep, the three of us were inseperable. Get this, I even went with them on thir dates. I guess that was part of the deal, he could use the car but he had to take his little brother. Now in Franklin, Louisiana the thing to do on Saturday night was to go to the picture show and then after get a coke at the drive in. We were lucky in a way because we had three movie theaters in Franklin, but unlucky in a way because if you wanted to go to the drive in movies to make out you had to go to New Iberia or Bayou Vista. Well we always went to theater in Frnaklin and I would immediately leave my brother and his girlfriend on the back row to smooch (old word for make out) and I would go sit right up on the front row with my popcorn and candy. When the movie ended we would go to Renee's Drive In for a coke and after take a little ride. Now you could park with your girl a Renee's because there was a wooded area at the side of the drive in but you knew that your friends who didn't have dates were going to come and shine their bright lights in your car and mess with you. Now I don't know what couples did in Illinios or Arkansas or Indiana but to get away from your buddies most couples in south Louisiana went park on a head land road in the area sugar cane fields. If any of you senior citizens from Franklin are reading this you know what I'm talking about. Well on this particular night as I recall they decided we would take a ride around Irish Bend. We were in the family car, a cool 1953 Buick, dark green with wide white wall tires and three little vent holes in the front fender which really served no purpose but sure looked cool. We're riding along on that country gravel road, Percy and his girlfriend up front and me in the back seat of that old Buick. The windows were down, the radio playing and the damp night air with the smell of fall permeating the car. Nights in the country were mesmerizing with millions of stars winking at us through the pitch black sky. At some point during this relaxing ride I fell asleep in the back seat. I don't know how much time had passed but when I opened my eyes I realized that the car was not moving, I was looking up through the back window at the night sky and it looked like I was the only one in the car. Seems like only a few seconds before I really got scared when I saw some strange lights in the sky. About the time I yelled out "where are we" two heads popped up in the front seat, and in no time at all my brother had that Buick smoking. Don't know what the girlfriend was doing but I was holding on for dear life as my brother manuvered that fishtailing Buick like Mario Andretti. We were throwing mud on that headland road like we were in some kind of motor cross race. I don't remember if I was crying and I didn't know what was going on in that front seat but I do know that all I wanted to do was to get out of that cane field. As it turns out they saw the lights also and thought it was a UFO. Turns out everyone in the car that night was scared. I don't remember the trip home but I know we didn't talk about what happened, I think we were just glad to get home.
My brother called tonight to tell me he was enjoying the stories on my blog and I heard someone in the back ground saying "don't print that story about the night in the cane field". No one had metioned that night in 56 years. I was surprised, I asked him if he remembered that night. He did and we all had a good laugh. They relented and gave me the okay to print the story.

Goodbye Operator

In a recent conversation with our young receptionist at my place of business I realized how drastically our methods of communicating with one another has changed. At 24 years old she had never used a rotary dial phone (maybe had never seen one) or picked up the receiver and actually talked to an operator. This is not a meant to be a negative statement just an observation by a member of the older generation about our changing life style. My Nanny definitely did not like the rotary phone you see here. Now for those of you who may not know, my Nanny was not someone hired by my mother to look after me. I don't really know about the rest of the country but I suppose in the south and difinetely in cajun country before a baby is born a Parrain and a Nanan is chosen to assume responsibility for the child in case something happens to the parents. Well my Nanan, who was also my cousin Lois, was a swithchboard operator for the bell telephone company. I'll never forget the excitment we all experienced when Nanny landed a job as an operator. Of course, she had to go to New Orleans for training for about a couple of days as I recall and that was a big deal in itself. Now to appreciate this experience, you have to imagine living in this time period when not everyone went to college, not everyone had a car and some people did not have telephones. My brother Percy was the first one in our family to graduate from high school in 1954, (the other two quit school) and the first one in the whole clan to go to the big school (LSU). So, for my Nanny to travel to New Orleans by Greyhound bus, because her family did not own an automobile, was a big deal in 1952. When Nanny came back from her training in New Orleans she worked in Franklin at the telephone office at 800 First Street which is now the Edward Jones office. Now before the mid 1960's when the rotary phone came out, to make a phone call you simply picked up the receiver and when the operator said "number please" you would tell her what number you wanted or sometime you would just tell her the name of the person or the grocery store or whatever and she would connect you. Just like Mayberry, a much simpler time. And our phone numbers had no area code prefix because there were not enough phones in the country to warrant such a system. I think most people remember thier old phone numbers. Our's was 1424 and my wife recalls thier number as being 456 and 911 was not an emergency number but probably belonged to Joe Boudreaux or some other citizen of the community. Very simple huh. Many times I remember picking up the receiver and the operator was my Nanny. When she would say "number please" , even though she knew it was me I suppose she had to be formal because she had a supervisor standing behind her (see picture) I would recognize her voice. I'd say "Hey Nanny its me Gerald" and she would ask how Momma was doing or how I was doing in school and after a short conversation she would ask what number I wanted. Now get this. Some people had what was known as a party line. Three or four households had the same number. To know who the call was for, you had to listen to the ring. One person might have three short rings, the other three long rings and the other two shorts and a long. If you picked up the phone while another person was on the line you could listen in on their conversation. But in the 60's our easy living world was changing and so did the telephone. Some brilliant engineer probably got together with an efficiency expert and invented the rotary dial phone. There was no need for an operator, you would simply pick up the receiver, listen for the dial tone, stick your finger in the hole corresponding with the number you wanted and turned the dial until you hit the finger stop. You would do that for each digit in the phone number. Times had changed in all the small towns in America where sometime you got the town news from the operator. These days no one ever talks to an operator, most people don't even talk to the person they dialed they just text message. Saves a lot of time in our busy multi tasking world.

Me, Terrel and the Viceroy

You know, it's funny how people have friends that they have been doing things with all their lives but can't
remember exactly how they met or what it was that brought them together. That was not the
case with my very first friend Terrel Louiviere. After high school we drifted our own seperate ways and I
understand he is now living in Kentucky but the other day I came across a photo of us kneeling on either side
of my brothers basketball in front of our basketball goal sporting our goofy hats with ear flaps drooping down
and one hand on the basketball and the other holding a Grapette soda. Terrel's brother Eldrige was
standing on side of him and my brother Percy was standing at my side. The photo looks like it might
have been taken in the winter of 1952. I'm pretty sure there was no particular event associated with this
picture, I think Momma just decided to come outside and take a picture of us. I guess Percy talked
Eldrige into bringing his little brother so I would have someone to play with and would not interfere with their
basket ball game. Anyway, that's how I met my first friend. Later Terrel and I became friends with Paul
Boudreaux and Terry Baudoin who also lived in the neighborhood and the four of us became inseperable.
However, let us go forward from the photo of 1952 to about the summer of 1957. A very good year,
Chevrolet came out with the classic '57 BelAir and Ford had a cool looking Thunderbird or as some
people would say a "tundabird". Also at that time billboards, TV and magazines were full of cigarette ads
portraying images of macho men like the Marlboro Man. I guess with all this machismo floating around
like puffs of smoke Terrel and I decided it was time to become cool. Boy, how cool would it be to brag to
Paul and Terry that we started smoking, the advertising world gave us the thumbs up. Terrel and I were
sitting on the back steps of his house when he got up, went in the house and came out with a knife and
one Viceroy cigarette (no filter) that he took from Eldrige's pack. We cut the cigarette in half and began
our journey to coolness. We put each a half of that cigarette between our lips, looking like James Dean,
and fired them up. I took a pretty long drag from that cancer stick and was already beginning to feel
dizzy when I heard Terrel say something about keeping our mouths shut and blowing smoke through
our nose. As my head was spinning I was wondering where that smoke was going because it sure was
not coming out of my nose. Thats about the time things started getting hazy and I'm pretty sure I was
turning green. I turned to look at Terrel and I could tell from the look of horror on his face that he was
having a difficult time getting oxygen because his eyes were about the size of quarters. About that time
I guess we had enough of looking cool, we bolted for the water hose. Terrell turned on the faucet and we
took turns sucking on the end of that water hose like a calf on an udder. At that time I didn't know what
would be worse, asphyxiation or drowning. Anyway, we decided not to tell Paul and Terry how cool we
looked gasping for oxygen and sucking on that water hose. I don't guess that ever happened to the
Marlboro Man.

Roping Junya (Junior)

Let me take you back to about 1955 and tell you about the worst whipping ever from my Mom. This is about my cousin "Junya" and Gerald "Texas Ranger" Cole and what happened on that fatefull winter day in 1955. Jullian Verret Jr. , known to me as Junya, was a delivery boy for Mrs. Gordy's grocery store which was in our neighborhood. Back in the day before Winn Dixie, Albertson, Wal Mart and Whole Foods there were the local grocery stores that used delivery boys on the old time big tire bicycles with huge baskets for the boxes of groceries that were to be delivered to your door. Yes, "boxes" not plastic bags and yes "delivered". I guess Junya was about a freshman at Franklin High School and dating the most beautiful girl at FHS and I was about 8 years old. At that time, before pro-sports mega stars, 8 year old boys aspired to being firemen, policemen, cowboys or Texas Rangers and with 25 cents and three Butterfinger candy bar wrappers sent to the candy company I received my offical Texas Ranger badge and ID card. Yes sir, I was sure enough a Texas Ranger. With my boots, badge and ID card I was out in the yard honing my cowboy skills with my lasso. I was roping posts and small shrubs and trying to rope my dog but who was I kidding, a moving target. No way. I look up and I see Junya coming down the gravel street that passes in front of my house. I was standing in the ditch on the side of the road when I yelled out "hey Jun, I'm going to rope you". Well Junya hollered back "go head" knowing full well there ain't no way. I let that rope fly and to both our disbelief the noose of the lasso circle above Junya's head like a halo before settling down around his neck. I was so in awe of my accomplishment that I forgot to just let go of the rope. The rope tightened, Junya came off the bike in a horizontal position with his legs straight out and the bike kept on rolling and fell in the loose gravel. I knew right then and there I had messed up big time. Not only was Junya gasping for air and hacking but the groceries that were in the basket were all over the road and in the ditch, the eggs were all broken and the glass bottle of milk was in pieces. I figure I was going to have to pay for the groceries, and pay I did. After we got everything picked up I saw that the rope burn on Junya's neck looked pretty bad but he could probably hide it if he wore turtle necks. The groceries were ours, and the rope was what my Mom used to beat me. Junya still remained my favorite cousin, he did not marry the most beautiful girl at FHS. He joined the Air Force, got married to a girl from Witchta Falls, Texas and settled in that town. I saw Junya only one time after he joined the Air Force. He came home on leave about the time I was a freshman at FHS and we sat on swings in the park across from my house and just talked about life in general and how things had changed in the neighborhood and in our lives. I never saw Junya again, he died several years ago. I never did get to meet his wife or his kids, don't know if they would enjoy the story or not, but I would like to tell them that Junya was a wonderful person to have as a cousin. And I really looked up to him. I suppose my decision to joined the Air Force in 1966 was due in some part to Julian Verret, Jr.