Archive for April, 2011

Tomorrow, probably kicking and screaming, I’ll be DRAGGED from my nice warm bed to watch THE WEDDING, and it’s not going to be a pretty sight.  My lady’s set on it, but while I’m only trying to make her happy, I have my own concerns…like…didn’t we fight a WAR to free ourselves from that particular monarchy?
I know, I know…Elizabeth II is NOT George III. Actually, I admire her, and Great Britain is one of our most trusted allies…but what the hell is all THIS about? I can answer that when it comes to the women. They want to see those HATS, though not one of them would ever wear one, and most of all, the DRESS. Women are like that.
To me, the greatest value of the British monarchy is its marketing and tourist value, something even more abundantly obvious in the past week or so, but it’s gotta be more…just has to be. Of course, this is APRIL, and except for those horrific storms creaming Oklahoma, Arkansas, Mississippi and Alabama…and Obama’s birth certificate contraversy, silly thing, considering all the REAL problems we’re facing, why the hell are TWO BILLION people going to be watching?
Personally, I still think the women are driven by fashion, but while they’re tugging men like me to the flickering screen, I keep getting an annoying feeling there’s more to it than that. A fairy tale? Maybe. Lingering sympathy for Princess Diana? Undoubtedly, and we ALL wish her son well, but this seems much too VISCERAL, too elemental to dismiss so easily. Maybe it’s desperation…or hope.
The world has turned ugly of late. I can understand people thirsting for something happy where nobody dies and nobody has an agenda. I feel that way, too. For God’s sake, my last entry was about a MOCKINGBIRD! That should give you a clue about where I am lately, sick of partisan politics, doomsday prophecies, and vapid, shallow politicians hawking themselves for a vote.
These days, I think people are longing for the tiniest bit of joy…even if it’s only on TV, even if it’s only in the Queen’s tight little circle and CONSIDERABLY manufactured. I don’t know that magnificent lady, and the way things are going probably never will, but to tell the truth, I admire her. For one thing, she KNEW Winston Churchill, one of my idols, and for another, she’s been the voice of calm and reason for sixty odd years.
Against the current of historic royal English behavior, she hasn’t lopped off a single head. She’s never faltered, never wavered, never disappointed anybody as far as I can tell. She’s become EVERYBODY’S grandmother in a way, and as a grandson who loved his, I’ve fallen in suit behind millions. She’s one CLASSY lady, and I for one, appreciate her and wish her happiness at her grandson’s wedding.
I heard on the news she isn’t going to participate in the post-nuptial celebrations at Buckingham Palace, instead retiring quietly to Windsor Castle for the evening, but I say, “Go for it, Your Majesty, have a ball. Have your Dubonnet and lemon and dance up a storm!” You deserve a moment of unbridled happiness. We all do. Life without joy, without the prospect of happiness, isn’t worth living.
So Angel and I will crawl out of bed at three in the morning (it’s changed…now, it’s 2:45…even worse), stagger into the kitchen, brew the strongest coffee I can, maybe even toast the last of the cinnamon rolls the Carmelites gave me, flop into my chair in the den, and tune to BBC America. While my lady coos and gasps at the finery, I may nap a bit, but I’ll be ever aware of the lady in the funny-looking hat who’s sure to be there, somebody I respect, the doting grandmother.
Alice Longworth Roosevelt said we never got over losing our king, but I look at it differently…as you might expect. The way I see it, life needs unadulterated happiness from time to time; we’re tired of dirt, dust, explosions and blood…and long for quiet monemts of simple, wholesome joy. Thank you, Great Britain, and most especially Your Magesty, for giving us something glorious and hopeful we can cling to while we face the turbulent wind of history…as we must.

Our Cabin at Toledo Bend

I’m just back from Toledo Bend, the great reservoir between Texas and Louisiana, country completely unlike the flatlands and bayous we know, instead red dirt, zillions of pine trees…with a few oaks and pecans… rolling hills, and even craggy sandstone bluffs. Of course, the main attraction at Toledo Bend is fishing, as a stop in ANY convenience store will attest.
After we had settled in at our rental cabin, we went to one to get my lady a fishing license, and I was ASTOUNDED by the extent and variety of stuff people use these days to try and outsmart fish. Fish are primal, never EVER considered very high on the intelligence scale, but even I got sucked in and bought some crappie (the fish, not the comment) bait, awful-smelling little yellow pellets you mold on a hook. I only got to use them twice…one bite, but it doesn’t matter.
Don’t get me wrong; fried crappie are delicious, but I like sitting on a cabin porch watching birds and furry little critters cavorting in the space between me and the waterline while I savor the peace and silence broken only by an occasional glistening, sleek bass-boat flying down the old Sabine River channel…and I love the little piney byways along the highway to the grocery store a few miles away, roads with names like Shacklefoot and Lickskillet.

Toledo Bend Reservoir

Getting back to basics has always been restorative for me, reminding me that while most people stay rivited to news about gas prices, the economy, politics, or wars, in the woods you learn not much has REALLY changed. Nature is peacefully, quietly being what it has been for millenia, and as you probably know if you’ve been reading my blog, I tend to be on nature’s side, even when she’s a little bit nasty.
For a full half hour one day, I watched a mockingbird doing some sort of mating dance…at least that’s what my lady said it was. There wasn’t another mocking bird for miles as far as I could tell, but he kept at it, throwing his wings up in a peculiar posture, hopping a bit, then doing it again in complete silence. When even HE had to admit nothing was going to happen, he flew to the top of a tree and kicked up a tremendous rucus, chirping, warbling, and occasionally sort of screeching.
I was beginning to feel sorry for him when I saw another mockingbird flying directly toward him, but it turned out not to be the plump female he was trying so hard to attract. He flew directly at the intruding male and knocked him about five feet off his flight plan, and I say perhaps it’s best he didn’t find a mate. To me he looked like the excessively showy type, all flash and no substance…probably wouldn’t have made a suitable husband anyway. I hope somewhere there’s an equally shallow hot-momma mockingbird for him, but I’m POSITIVE he’s not looking for the quiet, country-style, domestic type.
I felt honored to watch his desperate quandry, even though he hadn’t the faintest idea I was. Then, I realized…it’s all around us all the time, you know, nature, even nutty mockingbirds, and what was happening wasn’t anything special, just a horny, probably inexperienced little fart trying too hard. Humans only require quiet and solitude to rediscover what’s been there all the time. One morning the power went off for a couple of hours, putting quite a dent in our breakfast plans, but it didn’t bother the birds, or the squirrels, or even the fish the tiniest bit.
They’re living in the real world; it’s WE who live in an artificial one.

The old man was lovingly wiping his car when a younger man strode out of the house.
“Polishing it, Grandpa?”
“Every time it rains, Sam.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s my car, and it means too much to me not to. Your grandma and I went to the seashore in this car. I can still feel the wind coming off the water, still taste that hot dog I ate out on the seawall. We went all over the place. Let’s just say I’m thanking it.”
“It can’t go anywhere now.”
“I’m shining memories, Sam. I wish you had some, too. Want to help me?”
“No…gotta saddle George.”
“Going somewhere?”
“I decided last night. Gonna try to find some chickens. Somebody told me about a guy near New Iberia who has some. Maybe he’ll trade me for some beans.”
“If he has chickens, he probably has beans, too. Sounds like he knows what he’s doing.”
“The kids can’t live on soybeans, Grandpa. They need MEAT, you know, protein.”
“Beans got protein.”
“But not enough…at least that’s what it looks like to me and Ann. We think that’s why Jeremy died.”
“He was always such a weak little kid.”
“Yes…he never had a chance.”
“The others are strong.”
“We had meat when they were born, birds, coons, even rats.”
“Never could eat a rat.”
“I know, and you got sick a lot for a while.”
“Well they’re all gone now, dogs and cats, too…even lizards and snakes.”
“I know, but Ann’s pregnant again. I want to see if I can find something for her to eat…make the baby healthier.”
“That mule doesn’t like being ridden. Be careful, New Iberia is going to take you two days.”
“I’m counting on him wanting to see a little more of the world, maybe find some fresh new grass.”
“How much beans you bringing?”
“Two sacks…enough for a couple of hens and a rooster, I hope.”
“New food would be nice. I hope you can make a deal.”
The old man watched his grandson saddle the mule then sling the sacks of beans across before mounting him.
“Follow the bayou. You both gonna need water. Got a gun?”
“Yes.”
“People eat mules, too, you know.”
“Take care of Ann and the kids. I’ll try to get back in four days. If I’m gone longer, it’s because he wanted me to pay with work, too.”
The old man watched and waved until his grandson was out of sight. “Good luck,” he whispered sitting in the driver’s seat, tears flooding his eyes. His departure brought Harry and Janet, Sam’s parents, to mind, stranded in Atlanta when it hit, and the old man had heard the stories–riots, looting, gangs roaming streets in all the big cities, fighting for food. He hoped they made it, but he knew he’d never see them again, not with travel the way it was afterward.
It was just dumb luck he had Sam with him during those terrible days, little more than a baby, reall but now a considerable man, a hard worker, and a father to boot. Essentially, Sam had grown up in the new, post-apocalyptic world. “Poor kid, he never knew the one we lost. He’s a good man…deserved so much better.
“He never sat in a car flying down a highway, probably doesn’t even remember how things were before they all went to hell so quickly. Everything sort of fell apart…like Rome…and Emma. It’s hard to believe it’s been twenty years. What had happened was what really killed her, not the beans she always said she hated. She couldn’t live with what we had left, so she died.
“A lot of people gave up and died like Emma. They couldn’t believe a great nation could go broke all at once like we did, out of the blue, taking the rest of the world with us. Politicians in the old days were gamblers, but nobody really realized they were gambling with the future, just like nobody seemed to know gamblers LOSE sometimes. In a way, we were lucky here…lots of rain and good soil, not like those oil-producing countries. Oil doesn’t taste so good, and you can’t eat sand. I guess they were relying on their money, but I bet it was pretty much the same for them.
“Suddenly, you couldn’t buy anything, and it wasn’t long before there wasn’t anything to buy. It wasn’t not losing STUFF that hurt; Sam knows. It was not having the food we had grown up with…and not having the seeds to grow more. At first food was everywhere, but it disappeared pretty quickly leaving us with beans, sugar cane, and little else. I bet you can eat a lot of the plants growing around here; I KNOW you can eat dandilions. We eat ‘em every spring. Sam said to watch what George ate; it should be safe, but I don’t know. People are a lot more delicate than mules.
“The only ones who did well were those with the thinnest ties to the modern world, like African tribes and Eskimos. Africans are probably still herding cattle like they did before, digging up roots to eat, Eskimos killing walruses and fishing. Little has changed for them…not like us. All of a sudden, we were on our own. God knows how many people didn’t make it because they didn’t know anything but book stuff. At least I was a farmer…and had a lot of seed soybeans.
“The sugar cane was a bonus. It grows like a weed, and you can boil it down to make syrup. The kids like it because it makes soy-meal pancakes delicious, not to mention candy, but Sam’s right; they don’t get enough protein. I really hope he can make a trade; eggs would be nice now and then, the new baby would have a better chance than Jeremy, and after a couple of hatchings, we might even have roast chicken every month or two.
“Let’s see…it took Europe about a thousand years to recover after Rome fell. By my reckoning, that leaves us about nine hundred sixty-five yet to go.”

Don't worry; I'll find a better picure soon.

After I left home and was on my own, I fell in love with a car, just HAD to have it. Problem was I didn’t have any money, just barely above subsistence, but that car drove me nuts…a convertible, burgundy with a white rag-top. I worked like hell until I had enough to make a down payment, and when I went to the dealer, I signed for it…and worked out a plan to pay the rest off over three years.
I worked my ass off to pay for that car and in the process denied myself a lot of stuff I would have liked but knew I couldn’t afford…not if I REALLY wanted that car, but one day God smiled on me. When I went with friends to the local racetrack, not to bet but to enjoy the afternoon, I discovered a friend from my home town who had become a jockey while I was slaving away to pay for my car. Let’s call him Fred; I’m POSITIVE he doesn’t want me to post his name on the internet.
Not just a jockey, a highly SUCCESSFUL one, Fred grabbed my racing form and quickly pointed out three horses he assured me were going to win. “Those are good,” he said.  “Put a lot on them.”  A lot? What the hell did he think I was…a MILLIONAIRE? I put two bucks on the first one…and it WON! I put the winnings on the second one, and it won, too. I put everything on the third and went home with a tidy bundle, enough to pay for my car for at least five months.
In those days, my dad tended to worry about me, buying a car and working like hell to pay for it; dads are like that, and one day he visited…to see what was REALLY going on. By then, what with Fred’s advice and my consistent winnings, I had not only paid off most of my car, I had also been able to find a lovely apartment to live in. It was funny. “How much does this apartment cost?” he asked. “Fifty bucks a month,” I lied. “FIFTY BUCKS? How did you find it?” “A friend,” I answered truthfully.
“And how much are you making?” “Not a lot,” I replied. “AND YOU HAVE ENOUGH TO DO THIS?” “Let’s just say I’ve been lucky, Dad. Would you like to go to dinner? ANYPLACE you like…it’s on ME!” We had dinner at Broussard’s, and it was wonderful. Of course, dad paid; he thought I was only putting up a brave front, but to tell the truth, I had discovered something else…INVESTING…turned out to be even easier than getting information from Fred.
Before Fred retired (jockeys tend to grow out of their profession), I was able to pay off my car, furnish my apartment, including the kitchen…which was EXTREMELY important to me, even get a beautiful color TV for my living room. Mom and dad came into town from time to time, and I always found dad wandering around, occasionally asking me how much stuff cost. Of course, I lied about it; at the time, I didn’t think he could deal with the truth.
I still don’t. Dad was like a farmer, plowing, sowing, praying for rain, while I was more like a trapeze artist, soaring, flipping, gratefully grasping the arms of his catcher. Even then I knew farmers and circus flyers have too little in common to ever really reach any sort of common ground. Besides, it was always fun to watch the quizzical, confused look on his face when he dropped by.
Life’s funny. The best thing about it is you never know what’s going to happen next, and one day I met a movie star, an ACTUAL movie star who turned out to be a really good guy. I liked him a lot, and when he died recently, I mourned…but that’s not the point I want to make. EVEN HE WAS IMPRESSED WITH THAT CAR! It was gorgeous…or as he called it, a BABE MAGNET. Now…I think he was confusing cars with his silver-screen image, but that was just HIM.  Babes flocked to him…whatever he drove.
Personally, I didn’t find that many babes drawn in, but it didn’t matter. Maybe it’s different with movie stars, but as an undeniable non-movie star, I can tell you I loved it despite what that guy thought. I had bought it, paid for it, and in the process discovered the exploitation of opportunity, settled in a gorgeous apartment, unravelled the convolutions of investment, and found fulfillment.  Turns out, that car was a wonderful teacher, but Fred helped a lot, too.
Thank you, Fred.

Innocent Angel...No Idea What We're Up To

In Louisiana we’re getting used to the idea, what with the oil spill and all. Not only does seafood cost a fortune, but these days when you get your hands on some, it’s not what you’re accustomed to, not what you were REALLY expecting. My lady and I went to Vermilion Bay recently, and on the way back we stopped at a restaurant advertising oysters.
Of course, we stopped; I LOVE oysters, but when they were served, they turned out to be nothing like the oysters we knew. Tough, tasteless, and ENORMOUSLY expensive, they were a poor second to the rich, salty, and delicious gulf oysters we loved. It took us a while to fully understand why.
They were from somewhere else, not Louisiana…ours were dead, or considered much too toxic to consume, and I for one mourn for our unfortunate, static little beings struggling in their shells, dying, maybe crying if oysters can cry. If not, I’ll cry for them, disrupted in their life cycle…and their hope of reproduction. Ok, our oysters are gone.
Probably crabs, too…delicious gulf blue-point crabs, but there are a lot more things in the sea to enjoy…or are there? An ecosystem just below our state has been destroyed, probably for decades. I’ve pretty much given up thinking about raw oysters on the half shell in my lifetime. They were wonderful, but after viruses, contaminating bacteria, oil everywhere, and a couple of guys who DIED after eating them, they’re almost irresponsible to consider.
So a lot of stuff is gone…oysters, crabs, probably a lot of fish, maybe shrimp. Thank God for crawfish. They’re FRESH-water creatures and nowadays raised in safe ponds far from the gulf. To tell you the truth, if they were gone, I’d find life difficult…I mean, if there’s nothing but meat or chicken every day and maybe salads, what kind of life would that be? I gotta tell you, to a Cajun it sounds like hell.
Of course, there’s always canned tuna for what it’s worth, but now we have RADIOACTIVE tuna coursing their way toward us. Tuna breed off the coast of Japan before they migrate enormous distances to our western shores…and their larvae have already been found to be RADIOACTIVE, not just radioactive but unbelievably radioactive. Scientists tell us it will probably screw up their genome, maybe even eventually kill them all off.
WHAT COMES NEXT? I’m almost afraid to think about it. I’m the type who stands barefoot in cut-offs, enjoying the foaming surf while trying to commune with nature, for God’s sake, and these days when I stand at the water’s edge, I can only think about dead, smelly water, dead coral, dead fish, and struggling shellfish we can only remember but NEVER again eat or love.
Of course, the dolphins will die, right after the fish they pursue go belly-up. If you’ve been reading this blog, you know I have a soft spot for doplhins…but DOLPHINS?…our cousins playing in those elementally toxic blue-green waves off Japan? They’re just a few genetic steps from us, and SMART, but they don’t have physicists. Fun loving, they’ll have no idea what’s happening, except for the smartest. They’ll know WE had a hand in it.
I didn’t…and I suspect you didn’t either, but people we don’t know, people who told us they could take care of whatever happened did. They’ve failed us, and we’re much the poorer for it. When is ANYBODY out there going to understand we LOVE the life we have…and want it to continue? When are they FINALLY, FINALLY going to understand we can’t accept what they’ve done? We have ONE WORLD, one water planet…and they’re screwing it into OBLIVION!
It’s an ugly laundry list…Hiroshima, Bikini Atoll, the Exxon Valdez, Three Mile Island, Chernobyl, C02 levels off the chart, BP’s oil, crap floating in from the sea, even more crap lining our roadsides, and now runaway nuclear reactors in Japan spewing death and mutation into Your beautiful sea…with no end in sight. We don’t DESERVE the planet You gave us, God. We screwed it up…probably forever, Your beautiful, perfect garden. Forgive us.