Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Friday, June 20, 2014
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Like a Homeboy, Things I learned on the Tasse Cafe Radio Program
C'est un beau jour aujourd'hui, le temps est brillant, j'crois on a vingt percent chance des tis orages ici et là bas, on appelle ça du tac-tac parce que des fois un bout de la ville a de la pluie, et l'autre boute a pas rien, ça se fait, j'crois c'est pour ça que ça dit popcorn showers.
Dans temps d'hiver, on a cold winter day, Mom would make the boules de tac-tac.
Notre mot du jour c'est P-O-T pot, et 'coute, y'a toutes sortes de manière de dire "pot" en français.
Merci on apprecie le phone call, T.J...
Ok, guys y'all have a good day and... Lâche pas la patate, cher!
On va pas lâcher on va la manger tant d'alle est chaude.
A pot-chambre was also walled a wa-too ('ois tout) because it saw everything.
Un raconteur... des bagueuleur... un raconteur c'est meilleur qu'un bagueuleur!
Exactement! Bagueuleur c'est pas un nom qu'est flatteur, tu connais? j'crois pas.
A leg of a chicken is a cuisse or tchuisse?
Well, j'pense c'est cuisse, mais un tas du monde dit tchuisse!
My wife she don't call it tchuisse, she call it cuisse, yeah, that's the real French. And the thigh is la hanche.
Moi j'aime le bout du nord d'poulet qu'après aller sud!
Comme "barbe-a-queue"!
Talkin about chicken parts? My mother would say she wanted the last piece that passed under the fence!
Jim? Bonjour, c'est Lena, J'étais après attendre Ferrel parler d'bagueuler. Comment tu dis bagueuler en anglais!?
Years ago, Father Bourgeois said if you actually saw it, it was not gossip, it was not a sin, but if you repeat what others say they saw, that's gossip, that's a sin.
When somebody is ugly to you, ça te foutre des chiques, what is that in English?
Businesses in Mamou used to close on Wednesday afternoons in the summer to give everyone a rest.
Bring ya broom, ya mop, tie up ya head with a tignon cause we gonna clean up the building get it ready for the boys and girls club!
And the Daddy said, tu v'aller couper les zherbes à Monsieur T-Nes!
There you go!
Of course I was treated good, yeah. I was treated like a homeboy.
Dans temps d'hiver, on a cold winter day, Mom would make the boules de tac-tac.
Notre mot du jour c'est P-O-T pot, et 'coute, y'a toutes sortes de manière de dire "pot" en français.
Merci on apprecie le phone call, T.J...
Ok, guys y'all have a good day and... Lâche pas la patate, cher!
On va pas lâcher on va la manger tant d'alle est chaude.
A pot-chambre was also walled a wa-too ('ois tout) because it saw everything.
Un raconteur... des bagueuleur... un raconteur c'est meilleur qu'un bagueuleur!
Exactement! Bagueuleur c'est pas un nom qu'est flatteur, tu connais? j'crois pas.
A leg of a chicken is a cuisse or tchuisse?
Well, j'pense c'est cuisse, mais un tas du monde dit tchuisse!
My wife she don't call it tchuisse, she call it cuisse, yeah, that's the real French. And the thigh is la hanche.
Moi j'aime le bout du nord d'poulet qu'après aller sud!
Comme "barbe-a-queue"!
Talkin about chicken parts? My mother would say she wanted the last piece that passed under the fence!
Jim? Bonjour, c'est Lena, J'étais après attendre Ferrel parler d'bagueuler. Comment tu dis bagueuler en anglais!?
Years ago, Father Bourgeois said if you actually saw it, it was not gossip, it was not a sin, but if you repeat what others say they saw, that's gossip, that's a sin.
When somebody is ugly to you, ça te foutre des chiques, what is that in English?
Businesses in Mamou used to close on Wednesday afternoons in the summer to give everyone a rest.
Bring ya broom, ya mop, tie up ya head with a tignon cause we gonna clean up the building get it ready for the boys and girls club!
And the Daddy said, tu v'aller couper les zherbes à Monsieur T-Nes!
There you go!
Of course I was treated good, yeah. I was treated like a homeboy.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Complexes of Apartment
 |
| Rue Royale on Pont des Mouton |
 |
| La Petite Place Apartments in Grand Coteau |
 |
| Pointe Claire Plaza on the Pointe Claire side of Arnaudville |
 |
| La Belle Maison in Kenner |
 |
| La Bonne Vie in Lafayette |
Friday, June 13, 2014
Prairie des Femmes Origins
Had a good visit with my new little babysitter who lives across the
prairie a half mile south as the crow flies. A beauty, she seemed to be a
direct descendant of the very women the Prairie is named for. We
swapped ghost stories and information about old sites and neighbors and
talked about the Indian artifacts that are found here. When I asked her
what was the story she had heard of the Prairie, she said her daddy said
it was where the Indians "hid" their women when they went off hunting
or fighting. It was the first time I'd heard it told like that, and I
liked it!
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
The Presbytère of Prairie des Femmes
This is the Presbytère, known as the Lagrange House circa 1830. Its original location was in Prairie des Femmes, and now it is a registered historic structure located at Vermilionville in Lafayette. I was happy to be able to explore it yesterday. When I walked in to it, I felt the scale and form of the space was exactly like the old Lagrange house in the woods out here, except in miniature. I have written about here and here and most recently here. It made me hopeful that one day we can do something to save the big Lagrange House, but for now, she remains the hidden jewel of the Prairie des Femmes woods.
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| The LaGrange Family House 1830 |
 |
| Inside the House |
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| bed and candle |
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| Our Lady and Kneeler |
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| Up the garconiere, where the boys slept. This angle and exposed bousillage looks exactly like the big LaGrange House out here in the PDF woods. |
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| Job's Tears in a bottle and candle |
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| Same angles in the second room of the house as at the big Lagrange House |
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| Red, Green and White. |
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| The Presbytère of Prairie des Femmes |
Monday, June 9, 2014
Small Talk about the Vent Nord
Mista Charlie-
Hey!
This is John Pitre from Plaisance.
Allo Mista Pitre!
Comment les affaires à ce matin?
Haaw, 'coute! Les tit' zydecos après profiter dans l'vent nord!
Tit' vent nord, là, il chiffone la robe de Nananne des fois!
_______________________________________
Mista Charlie-
Hey!
This is John Pitre from Plaisance.
Hello Mister Pitre!
How are things this morning?
Aw, listen! The little snap beans are growing in the north wind!
The north wind there, it blows Nananne's skirt up sometimes!
Haaw, 'coute! Les tit' zydecos après profiter dans l'vent nord!
Tit' vent nord, là, il chiffone la robe de Nananne des fois!
_______________________________________
Mista Charlie-
Hey!
This is John Pitre from Plaisance.
Hello Mister Pitre!
How are things this morning?
Aw, listen! The little snap beans are growing in the north wind!
The north wind there, it blows Nananne's skirt up sometimes!
Saturday, June 7, 2014
Praying for the World at the Prairie Ronde Shrine
I was driving the Opelousas Road today and had a few hours to myself, so I decided to turn off on the Prairie Ronde Highway, a road that despite having passed easily ten thousand times in my life, I had never once traveled down. People ask me if I've photographed the Ave Maria Shrine out there, so I thought today was the day. I traveled the broad turns through the prairie communities of Andrepont and Frilot Cove, places that despite their proximity to my hometown, I had never seen.
It was very peaceful out there on the Prairie Ronde and I could immediately smell the citrus scent of the rose bushes planted around the perimeter of the shrine. I was surprised to find the shrine bustling with people, there were ladies and men holding rosaries and speaking in English and French.
There was an open air metal pavilion with benches that protected the inner room of the Shrine, and there was a fine mist all around from small tubes piped to spray cooling water on the faithful. It was very misty indeed, and the metal benches and prayer cards got damp if the wind was right, but it was so pleasant and cooled us in the mounting heat of a June afternoon. In the small central room is a replica of the Fatima statue carved by the same family as the original in Portugal. I spent a good 20 minutes alone in the little shrine listening to the group singing and praying the rosary. It was very cool, and very, very calm in there. The statue in the shrine of Our Lady of Fatima is the most beautiful and peaceful I have ever seen.
I met a Mrs. Soileau who said that I happened to be there on the first Saturday of the month, when it was promised that, if this shrine was built on this "Holy Land" of Prairie Ronde, the Blessed Mother herself would come there for five minutes from 6:00 until 6:05 to take the petitions of the faithful to her son.
Well it was 5:00 and if the Lady herself was coming in an hour, I was sure to stick around. I learned that the group had been there since 3:00 (and really since 1996), praying the rosary repeatedly and also saying the Chaplet of the Divine Mercy, which I had never prayed before, and found it to be quite beautiful. I sat on the metal bench praying the rosary and listening to the voices of the women and men, feeling the cool mist and watching trucks and old tractors pass on the road.
At one minute to six they began to ring a bell, and rang it more loudly when the hour came, when a younger man in a blue work shirt opened the door to the shrine, and as if divine light spilled out, everyone fell to their knees and the whole scene went into a silent prayer-scape. The scent of roses again was in the air; all you could hear were the bird songs of the prairie, and the soft hum of the mist, which covered us like dew.
It was very peaceful out there on the Prairie Ronde and I could immediately smell the citrus scent of the rose bushes planted around the perimeter of the shrine. I was surprised to find the shrine bustling with people, there were ladies and men holding rosaries and speaking in English and French.
There was an open air metal pavilion with benches that protected the inner room of the Shrine, and there was a fine mist all around from small tubes piped to spray cooling water on the faithful. It was very misty indeed, and the metal benches and prayer cards got damp if the wind was right, but it was so pleasant and cooled us in the mounting heat of a June afternoon. In the small central room is a replica of the Fatima statue carved by the same family as the original in Portugal. I spent a good 20 minutes alone in the little shrine listening to the group singing and praying the rosary. It was very cool, and very, very calm in there. The statue in the shrine of Our Lady of Fatima is the most beautiful and peaceful I have ever seen.
I met a Mrs. Soileau who said that I happened to be there on the first Saturday of the month, when it was promised that, if this shrine was built on this "Holy Land" of Prairie Ronde, the Blessed Mother herself would come there for five minutes from 6:00 until 6:05 to take the petitions of the faithful to her son.
Well it was 5:00 and if the Lady herself was coming in an hour, I was sure to stick around. I learned that the group had been there since 3:00 (and really since 1996), praying the rosary repeatedly and also saying the Chaplet of the Divine Mercy, which I had never prayed before, and found it to be quite beautiful. I sat on the metal bench praying the rosary and listening to the voices of the women and men, feeling the cool mist and watching trucks and old tractors pass on the road.
For the sake of His sorrowful Passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world.
At one minute to six they began to ring a bell, and rang it more loudly when the hour came, when a younger man in a blue work shirt opened the door to the shrine, and as if divine light spilled out, everyone fell to their knees and the whole scene went into a silent prayer-scape. The scent of roses again was in the air; all you could hear were the bird songs of the prairie, and the soft hum of the mist, which covered us like dew.
La Manche des Rosiers
Two weeks ago I transcribed this where the people of Ville Platte remembered that Cherokee Roses grew thickly on both sides of the lane going to Tate Cove, and that it was called la manche des rosiers, the lane of the roses.
Today on my drive back from a birthday party at my cousin's in Whiteville, I cut across the cove on Rue de Coton and hit Tate Cove Road where I knew they had called it la manche des rosiers dans les années passées, and sure enough, all along the road after the Theophile Road, there you can see the grosses fleurs blanches and éronces verts of the fabled cherokis rose.
Today on my drive back from a birthday party at my cousin's in Whiteville, I cut across the cove on Rue de Coton and hit Tate Cove Road where I knew they had called it la manche des rosiers dans les années passées, and sure enough, all along the road after the Theophile Road, there you can see the grosses fleurs blanches and éronces verts of the fabled cherokis rose.
 |
| les cherokis |
 |
| les éronces gone à l'anse de Tate |
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Les Pas Trop Bonnes Nouvelles: Criminelle!
Alle est dit d'être cinq pieds de haut
cent-cinq livres à peise et
les cheveux noirs
avec des star tattoo sur le poignet gauche
et un autre tattoo sur le poignet droit
Alle est voulu pour attempted first degree murder
Home invasion,
armed robbery,
false imprisonment,
criminal conspiracy
et quelq'un connait l'information dessus où alle peux être
'sont demandé de contact l'office de sheriff de la paroisse...
They caught her! Click here to see la criminelle...http://www.katc.com/news/welsh-police-one-person-killed-following-double-shooting/
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Monday, June 2, 2014
A Trip to New Iberia
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| The Rosary House |
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| Our Lady of the Rosary House |
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| No Hand Mary |
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| Across the Street |
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| Lourdes Grotto on "Shadow Street" |
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| Petitions and Offerings in the Grotto |
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| In Memory of the Pioneer Families of New Iberia and in gratitude to God for His abundant blessings to the Teche Country. |
 |
| Charming the Ladies at Victor's |
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| Of course a trip to the New Iberian Teche Country wouldn't be complete without pulling over, putting the truck in 4 wheel drive in a soybean field, and digging up wild Cherokee roses by hand! Talk about tear your hands up, but I had been scouting the ditches of Acadiana for them all spring, and there, in New Iberia with my tolerant best friend Marie, I found the prize that was accessible. Marie said it was o.k. with her. She used to pull over with her grandmother to dig up wild Louisiana Irises, and "now her yard is full of them." |
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