La Toussaint et les bénédiction des cimetières

La Toussaint et les bénédictions des cimetières  
Transcribed from La Tasse de Cafe' Radio program 10-27-14

Pour l'église Our Lady Queen of all Saints 

Samedi le premier de novembre
à le cimetière Gates of Heaven
en arièrre de l'église,  

bénédiction après la messe de quatre heures.

Dimanche à une heures de l'après-midi 

ils vont benir le cimetière de T-Mamou, 

et là à trois heures de l'après-midi 

ils vont benir le cimetière du platin. 

Ça c'est à travers de Our Lady Queen of All Saints.

Et là pour l'église de Sacré Cœur et Saint Joseph  

bénédiction de le cimetière  

samedi le premier de novembre à douze heures de midi 

et au Evangeline Memorial après la messe de quatre heures. 

La bénédiction de le cimetière de Belair Cove 

et là à cinq heures de l'après-midi, 

samedi le premier de novembre 

à le Vieux Cimitière de la Ville Platte.

Dimanche le deux d'novembre 

après la messe de huit heures et demi 

ils vont benir le chagrin 

et le cimetière de Saint Joseph à Belair Cove, 

après la messe de dix heures à Sacre Cœur 

ils vont benir le cimetière de Sacré Cœur 

et dimanche à midi le cimetière de l'anse de Tate. 

Soyez sur de gardez ça en idée!

Tasse Expressions: You got ya whistle in Basile

When my daddy would hear someone whistling, he would say, he got his whistle in Basile. Il a eu son siffler à Basile. I told that to my children my whole life, "you got ya whistle in Basile!"

C'est fraiche, ça refraiche.

Mais ça c'est Dot à nous-autres, ça?
Hein!? 
Ça c'est Dot à nous-autres?
Ouais!

Le vent de Basile... le gros Vents d' grand Basile!
(the wind comes from Basile in March, April... from the southwest...a dry wild, with dust, a pleasant wind...also called les vents de carême?)

Daddy and all his friends would gather at daddy's every afternoon and drink coffee under the pecan tree, and exchange lil expressions:

Cher! Ça c'est trop de sucre pour dix sous! 

Fais-attention, lâche pas la poule parce que tu va peut-être attrappé le guime.  

Tu peux pas montrer les nouveaux trick à un vieux mulet.

Pareille comme tu dis, tu peux amener le cheval à l'eau pour boire mais tu peux pas le faire boire. Ça c'est pour sûr!

Thing they should sell at the Prairie des Femmes Store

It was run by a local family, and their youngest daughters, bewitching blonde twins, ran the counter for a time. I went there once on la Fete de la Chandeleur to grab nearly all of their eggs and milk because we were short for crepe making at Beau Chene High School. I think I also bought a Mexican coke. They should sell basics like that at the Prairie des Femmes store, and other basics like bags of rice and cans of Rotel, white cherry icees and boudin balls and boules rouges in big glass jars on the counter, of course, but if I had my way, this is what they would also sell at the Prairie des Femmes store (on the old Indian footpath that is now Hwy 93):

1. powder puffs of thistle tops used to apply powder of the crushed Cherokee rose
2. fresh pucks of wax-myrtle wax 
3. bay and beeswax candles
4. cypress blood, tincture of cypress sap, bottled and corked
5. Spanish moss in a can, match included 
6. iron tines of the plow for t-fer making
7. hats and fans of the latanier for ladies to keep cool in the summertime
8. smudge sticks of indian sage, lemonbalm, rabbit tobacco
9. dried teas of herbe a cabri, mugwort, mongrea
10. sasafrass root
11. file' powder
12. comb-in prairie des femmes honey
13. pecan shell berceuses pour les ti catins
14. dried French mulberries by the lb
15. fresh mulberries, dewberries, blackberries in season
16. white mulberries of the Bayou Bourbeau in season
17. elderberry syrup for the winter and dried elderberry flowers
18. wooden beads and raw leather for leather work
19. Laguiole knives with the bee and goat punch
20. black taribi, cabresse
21. bousillage soap bar
22. red powder made from the crushed shells of lady bugs
23. job's tear and chinaberry rosaries
24. blow guns of lilas parasol
25. shovels
26. seeds
27. Poo yaille fertilizer
28. hammers
29. basins and buckets of all sizes
30. rolls of thick brown paper
31. cast iron cookware
32. a directory of the names of local traiteurs on a cork board
33. Louisiana literature and music
34. quilts
    
35. A Prairie des Femmes Field Guide
36. ceramic shards from the field, embossed with gold
37. plantain t-fer salve
38. homgrown fruits and vegetables
39. lemonbalm tingture
40. loose manglier tea

Don't try to pull in or turn around at the old Prairie des Femmes store, though! They got the driveway lined with nail boards. 

 


 

Things I learned on la Tasse

On Swings:

In Ville Platte we say balance, mais...galance... Galance? I don't recall ever hearing that. I don't know where this French comes from... so I guess that comes from that Thibodeaux French. Just a-swangin... Oh serait joli d'être après se balançer, avec une bonne tasse café avec un tit vent nord t'après souffler.. Hot dog! Ça serait la vie!


From the French News:

The Louisiana Swine Festival,  va avoir, jusqu'à à minuit, la musique par un D. J., Lucky Lady, Bad Weather et High Roller. Tout ca va prendre place en gym à Basile.

...Le police des Opelousas dit que vingt-trois ans d'âge Marcus DeJean avait ménacé quelqu'un avec un pistolet mercredi au soir avant il avait lead l'officier d'un course à pied. 

Random Stuff:


le premier qu'a éné -first born
le nichoix- last born 

Moi j'suis maître et major, et je me berce moi-même, ouais.

 Les jeunes persones ils ont oublié la politesse. C'est vrai. Et c'est le parti de notre faut aussi! Pareil comme pour apprendre le fraiçais c'est notre faute.

Pour ce-là de vous qui sont après planner d'aller à la chasse aux chevreuils, vous-autres peux trouver le maïs de chevreuil, la mélasse, de des food plot mix et tout ça là-là. Ils ont aussi les ATV spreaders au Evangeline Feed and Seed!

Le forecast à Dave et le forecast à Liz...

Daddy and all his friends would gather at daddy's every afternoon and drink coffee under the pecan tree, and exchange lil expressions:

Cher! Ça c'est trop de sucre pour dix sous! 

Fais-attention, lâche pas la poule parce que tu va peut-être attrappé le guime.  


Tu peux pas montrer les nouveaux trick à un vieux mulet.

Pareille comme tu dis, tu peux amener le cheval à l'eau pour boire mais tu peux pas le faire boire. Ça c'est pour sûr! 

The Ditches of the PDF

Squirrel Season Warning: C'est Pas Des Bébelles

La grande fête de la Paroisse Evangeline
La fête des écureuils!
La saison des écureuils
Va commencer officialment demain matin.

À tous ce vous les chasseurs
Qu'après nous écouter
On veut souhaite vous-autres va se comporter
a'oir un bon temps
et rappellez-vous de 

Les fusils et des armes
C'est pas des bébelles.
C'est pas des bébelles. 
Les fusils et des armes
C'est pas des bébelles.
C'est pas des bébelles.
Les fusils et des armes
C'est pas des bébelles.
C'est pas des bébelles.
C'est pas des bébelles.

The Plowed Mound

the Apex and the Moon

I have always imagined, when I looked out over open water, of all of the fantastic sea creatures that are just below the surface unseen. It's the same out here in the prairie where one can see the undulation of the ground, the swells of earth, and knows the history in the dirt, the treasures below the surface.

When I venture to ask a local elder about the Prairie des Femmes' origins or where I can find an arrowhead, they direct me to this field, which is on a bayou path that I am familiar with.

You can't see it from certain angles, but when you do see it, it is unmistakable; there was a large mound here. The earth swells as a wave, climbing two or three feet gradually, and forming a clear apex out toward the center. It was disorienting to be there, like being on holy ground. I have passed on idle so many times but never stopped. 

It's the harvest time. Just last week I passed the field in question and it was knee deep with weeds grown up in the weeks after the harvest. But the fields on this side of the PDF have been getting plowed, so I had the feeling that it had been, also. I waited until the cool of sunset to go out there. I took my boys, sat them down at the treeline with a bag of potato chips and a pig in a blanket each and told them to stay put while I tramped off into the field. 

I looked around and around, walking, looking down, listening for trucks that passed, watching the little red and white spots of my children against the black of the treeline, yelling at them occasionally or hearing them playing. I was unprepared for arrowhead hunting in my old red leather loafers, now full of fine dirt, as I had sunk eight inches in places as I walked. At the apex of the mound, which is not extremely pronounced, I took some pictures. I detected a death smell, very faintly, yet clearly. Surely from a field mouse crushed under the plow, I thought, but I could not help to think of the place and wonder what it really was.  I picked up clods, but found no stone, no ceramic. I walked crushing the clods in my hands and letting the dust fall. At the high point I found a dark clod of earth, cooler and fresher than that rest, and put it in my pocket. 

It seemed to me strange that I was so worshiping this land, an ironic time for me to come there, the permission and the occasion of the harvest coming at the same time that I have been fuming daily about a near neighbor back on my side of the prairie who is excavating a pond and trucking out dozens of Mack trucks a day of Prairie des Femmes dirt to sell, I assume. I hear the grumbling and beeping for twelve hours a day, I can see the machinery. It's officially started to annoy me, not only the noise way back here in the peaceful prairie, but that they were trucking out the land.  The Prairie des Femmes, being unceremoniously trucked out, and I had to listen to it all day. Selling earth was taboo to me, I realized, especially this dirt. 

I believe it is sacred ground, and it has been desecrated to a point. People have built their own homes on these high places, plowed them repeatedly, dumped and littered them, or else built roads over them, as there are a few roads in the PDF that undulate up over a mound and back down again.

I left as the reds of sunset were fading to oranges and purples. I had found nothing but a dark clod of earth from the apex, but what Frozard had said was true: no one messed with me. Now I needed is a big rain...

the rise of the plowed mound

la terre et mon soulier rouge

Sept Aigrettes