By CAY SONNIER GIBSON

Child-Friendly Education in Louisiana

Posted August 24, 2010 at 11:56 am
Filed Under Current Events, Education, Entertainment, Family Fun, Louisiana Literature, New Orleans, Outdoors/Nature, Travel | 2 Comments

When I first began writing this column I was told by close family members not to write about Louisiana’s educational or political systems. In other words: Stay in safe coastal waterways and out of the Gulf during hurricane season.

Keeping my opinion silent on the political arena is easy. I have a hard time understanding it. Most of my political opinions are gotten from recliner-side conversations with my husband at night while watching the evening news, from early morning coffee conversations with my father, and (don’t laugh) from watching Glenn Beck. Gotta love Glenn Beck.

Yes, I know. Glenn Beck isn’t perfect … but neither am I. He’s simple enough for me to understand and that makes us a good fit. Any flawed statement he makes is quickly corrected through Facebook and other online tell-tale critics. I don’t take his word as Scripture but at least he makes me think and makes me look for the real answers.

It isn’t that I’m uneducated in the political department. I truly believe we need to keep abreast of what is happening in our government. Too many of us know too little. I could learn more, and am free to learn more, but it’s one of the battles I “choose” not to enter into. I will learn about it. I won’t write about it.

The educational arena is a close second only I have five children. With two in college, one high school age, one in junior high, and one still in elementary; I’m knee-deep in it. Though I was never going to write about the educational system—and still don’t plan to—last I checked, my calendar read August. Education is foremost on most parents’ minds right now so I feel prompted to ”summarize, analyze, and convert data into useful information” because that is what my college diploma says I do. But I am not “qualified” to discuss the educational system of Louisiana. I am a mere parent. A parent who has floated between public education and home education. I have seen the downfalls and the uprise of both forms. And I believe it inevitably befalls the individual to get the best education he/she can get. In today’s world there is nothing stopping us, save ourselves. I’m still getting mine and enjoying it more than I ever did. The schools are only a bus stop on this journey.

I am not here to gripe or debate Louisiana’s educational system. It is what it is. As with all things, it is not perfect because the people employed within it are not perfect. Neither is home education, because parents are not perfect either. I will simply jump to discussing how best to empower parents to recognize natural learning moments through, in, and around Louisiana because that is what we all want for our children.

Why “natural learning moments”? Well, our schools and our homes certainly offer enough technical learning opportunities. Our children are pretty much over-programmed. Agreed?

But there’s a point in a child’s day when teachers and parents (adults in general) need to step back and allow the child to process things by themselves. We are so busy planning their day and activities that they are increasingly dependant on us … for their recreation, their learning, their skills, and their thoughts. One thing our children do not seem to have time for (mine included) is for reflection over their lives, their talents, their future, etc. Our children have lost a sense of wonder. That’s what nature study gives back. A sense of wonder.

Has anyone read Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv. The book is subtitled “Saving Our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder” and the author calls for a “nature-child reunion.” I think this is one of the first steps parents can do to reclaim their children’s sense of curiosity and exploration.

Nature study allows a child to reclaim the world. Even more precious, it allows a child to care about something outside themselves. Here in Louisiana we don’t have to travel far to find open spaces. Much of Louisiana is prairie, marshes, streams, and wetlands. Even in the big city, children are offered ripe opportunities.

The National Audubon Society is still focused on the care, restoration and relief of the Gulf and its wildlife since the Oil Spill tragedy. That’s what I love about the Audubon Nature Institute in New Orleans. They have a zoo, an aquarium, and an insectarium.

Let’s start with a tour of the Audubon Zoo. That’s my personal favorite. Be sure to observe the animals here.

Naturalist John James Audubon greets us at the entrance. Does your child know who John James Audubon was? Do you? Now’s the time to learn.

The zoo offers nature study up close and personal. Very personal. A child’s feet will hit the ground running and they will absorb dirt between their toes, wind in their hair, and wonder within their souls.

At the zoo children are allowed to run and play and no one tells them to stop and be quiet. There are trees to climb and no one tells them to get down. There are structures to explore and no one tells them to be still. The children are the hurricane and no one tries to stop them.

zoo4

Everywhere they turn they are met with creatures to watch …

Too numerous to touch …

And even to feed …

zoo6

The animals and fowl living amongst the humans is probably the best thing of all. In touring Audubon Zoo, we walk into a world that is meant for life outside ourselves. We are allowed to conjoin with it: respectfully, benevolently, kindredly.

And there is poetry and famous quotes from naturalists and inspiring thoughts from scientists found along the zoo trail to charm the educator’s soul and entice the wandering child’s wonder.

This does not end our tour of the zoo. There is still Monkey Hill to climb and explore …

My children believe that Monkey Hill is definitely the best of the best. Other children will agree. Monkey Hill was made for the children and it benefits them all.

We also need to get into our little pirougues and visit the Louisiana Swamp walkway. Next to Monkey Hill, I enjoyed this the most. It drips and sings Louisiana.

So our tour is not yet done and neither is your child’s summer. Hang onto your ticket. Autumn is around the bend and it is probably the best time to take your child out of the classroom and into the world. There are lots more to explore. I’ll be back to serve as your virtual tour guide.

More to Brew About

Posted August 4, 2010 at 8:30 pm
Filed Under Folk Lore & Tales | 1 Comment

While Brooke Rhodes was treating us to McAlister Deli’s free iced tea, I was shopping at Brookshire Brothers for more coffee where each 13 oz. package was on sale for $2.99. Can you blame me?

It occured to me after I posted that I had forgotten to mention any health or medicinal purposes of coffee. You might laugh … or not … but I’m geekish about home remedies and, in the true flavor of Louisiana hospitality, I wanted to share.

So I looked in my trusty Gumbo Ya-Ya but couldn’t find any home remedy for coffee grounds.

I’m not a health guru or anything. I just like to read about the ways people administered to others in the days before penicillin, artificial hips, and cloning. I get a kick-out of seeing how people used cobwebs to stop cuts from bleeding, put a knife under the bed to “cut” labor pains, and concocted earache medicine out of roach’s blood, hot water, red pepper, and sugar mixed with lard.

Good ol’ home cures. Louisiana is steeped full of ‘em.

Yeah, I know some of those sound bizarre but if you think those remedies are odd you should read page 525 on how to cure snake bites.

Don’t worry. It isn’t as though my family lets me doctor them. Nor have I ever tried. That would truly be something to laugh at, though I must admit that the garlic and scaling hot water really does cure plantar warts. Honest to Grandma Moses.

But we’re talking about coffee here, not garlic.

Gumbo Ya-Ya did not reveal any coffee secrets from its folklore pages.

But remember where we live. Southern women learn more about how to bandage booboos, handle labor pains, and medicate earaches by talking to other women. It’s an age old tradition. Women share their experiences and their research and their knowledge with one another. Then we consult our doctors.

It wasn’t long before I was sitting amongst a group of Louisiana housewives discussing plans to haul a group of soccers players to camp in the wilds of Kansas. It took only one mention of bringing boys and their unwashed laundry, soggy socks, and over-exerted soccer cleats home to get the chatter going strong. How do we deal with a cramped van in the middle of July heat while juggling soccer balls?

With school, dance lessons, and soccer games on the upcoming activity charts, many of us are going to find ourselves in this very situation, so take note.

One of the moms had a solution, a home remedy if you will.

Miniature coffee bags stuck in the toes of the cleats.

Cafe’ aroma, anyone? Sure cure for stinky toes.

Beats the alternative, and that’s my Louisiana home remedy for the year.

Of course, you could just order your cup of coffee and enjoy the taste and smell while life brews around you. It makes life a little sweeter.

Coffee Grounds in the Bottom of my Cup

Posted July 23, 2010 at 10:46 pm
Filed Under Food, Traditions (& Customs) | Leave a Comment

Recently I visited MawMaw in her bright yellow kitchen. Her lifelong friend Ms. Bobbie was there visiting as well and drinking coffee … of course. MawMaw worked for Ms. Bobbie’s grandmother in days gone by and often says that kind family gave her own family the gift of Christmastime. Grandpa Crochet was a sharecropper and the family was as poor as a crow in a cotton field. Ms. Bobbie’s grandmother always made sure oranges and apples and a little something extra were sent to the Crochet children on Christmas morning.

MawMaw remembers the kitchen where she worked as being large, functional, and never without a pot of coffee brewing. The pot was never empty.

Even today my grandmother barely finishes telling everyone welcome and hello and she is scooping coffee grounds into the coffeemaker, pulling coffee cups out of the cabinet, and opening sugar and cream canisters on the countertop.

It’s what folks in Louisiana do. It’s the #1 code of etiquette.

When I began writing this piece, my husband asked, Whatcha writing ’bout?”

The answer sounded too trite and silly.

“Coffee.” (About as trite and silly as writing about ice cream.)

So I told him he’d have to wait and read it when I was done.

Yet there is nothing trite or silly about coffee. It’s rather sacred around here.

There is something about the aroma of coffee that calms our inner child. It calms the restlessness of time spinning too fast. Its presence clasps the dawning of the new day and subdues it, allowing us to catch up. It stops Monday morning in its tracks and allows us to sip slowly into it. It gets us over the hump called Wednesday. It welcomes Friday. It rejoices in Sunday.

Many of us in Louisiana were weaned from Momma’s breast or the bottle straight to the cup of coffee on MawMaw’s table. Coffee was never trite or silly.

It was that teacup with two sips of coffee left at the bottom, the best part of the cup. It was an oak-veined hand guiding the spoon and steadying the plumb cheeks of youth. It was the quacking voice whispering, “Careful, cher. Il fait chaud. (It’s hot.)” It was the red lipstick-lined pucker softly blowing the brown liquid cool. It was the adult conversation around us. It was the quaint dialect of Cajun French that blended effortlessly with English conversation. Anyone born and raised in Louisiana and over 30 is sure to remember that. It was the sugary sap trickle that trailed from the bottom of the cup to our puppy-dog tongue that feverishly licked up the final drop.

But coffee is still more than that.

Coffee is an important commodity in Louisiana. More important … do I dare say it? … than oil? Coffee is as essential to Louisiana as tea was to the 13 colonies. It bubbles and brews through coffee pots in Louisiana homes, work places, and restaurants as freely as that oil bubbled and poured into the Gulf.

Many of us are not up to the task of floundering through our mornings without coffee. Many of us are growing gardens to subsidize our dinner table. Many of us are taking Ben Franklin’s advice seriously and pinching pennies. And some coffee snobs (myself included) have scalded their coffee canister of Community Coffee grounds and begun to wonder if we should grow our own coffee beans.

You know the economy is in a bad state when:

you have not bought a bag of coffee in ever so long because it’s ridiculously high.

you refuse to pay $5.49-6.99 for a pound of coffee (because, let’s face it, that’s just awfully expensive).

you find yourself having to resort to using the 4 cup convenience bags you confiscated during recent hotel visits and squeezing 6 cups of coffee from it.

your afternoon cup of coffee is, in fact, your morning brew warmed over.

A couple of weeks ago Kroger had Community Coffee on sale for $3.99 a pack. Last week Market Basket had this liquid perk on sale for $4.00 a pack. This is when I stack these ruby red bricks in my grocery cart, buy as many as the store allows, then take them home to stash store in my freezer. My husband let me know the packs are not a full pound. They are 13 oz. to be exact. Not sure what his point is so let’s keep moving down the grocery aisle.

Where we drink our coffee is almost as important as what kind we drink and why we drink it.

Don’t think I don’t remember that free gourmet coffee card brewing in my wallet. I’m saving it for a special day when I’m fresh out of Community.

My son’s girlfriend loves Starbucks, her birthday is tomorrow, and she returns to college next month. Guess what I bought to slip into her birthday card?

Here in Lake Charles, my girls and I enjoy frequenting The Porch for a cup of pleasure and those dee-lish-ous raspberry cheesecake bites. Yum! I especially like that they use Louisiana-roasted coffee straight out of Breaux Bridge so you’re supporting your state while enjoying your cup o’ joe.

Most would agree that the best place to go in Louisiana to enjoy a cup of true coffee would be New Orleans’ Cafe Du Monde which savvy food writer Sara Roahen describes as ” … a riddle. The enchanted outdoor cafe’ has a Disneylike magnetism for tourists and cameras.” She describes a visit to the famous coffee shop:

“The cement underfoot was sticky, as it should be, from an eternal slurry produced when the condensation from glasses of ice water drips to the ground and mingles with the powdered sugar that snows from each bit of beignet.” ~ Gumbo Tales by Sara Roahen

For some reason I love this image. Probably because it doesn’t ignore the “sticky” of New Orleans while still including the “condensation” and “mingles” of what is sweet and enjoyable about Louisiana.

Still I doubt any cup of coffee tastes as good as coffee shared with family. Every Sunday finds most of my family in MawMaw’s yellow kitchen adding sugar and cream to coffee that is thicker than oil. You could almost stand a spoon in it. Almost. It’s something that is being passed on to the fourth generation of my family. And we’re blessed to have it, to live it, to sip it, to savor it.

And it’s much more than coffee … it’s Community. The brand and otherwise. Both rich and flagrant. Neither trite or silly. It’s a lifestyle that blends families together in more ways than one.

It’s all part of what makes Louisiana taste so good!

Speaking of coffee, beignets, and grandmothers; I have a fig tree calling my name, several jars of canned figs on my kitchen counter, AND my grandmother’s fig cake recipe I’m willing to share with all of you.

Keep the coffee pot brewing. I’ll be back.

Homemade Louisiana Heat Solution

Posted July 9, 2010 at 4:11 pm
Filed Under Food, Recipes, Traditions | 3 Comments

July + Louisiana heat =

6 cans of Pet Milk (has to be Pet Milk to taste really good and flavorable … plain milk will not do) … pour into a large bowl.

6 eggs, separated … beat eggs yokes slightly, whip egg whites until frothy like sea foam. Fold egg yokes into egg whites.

Add 2 cups sugar and 1 teaspoon vanilla flavoring to large bowl of Pet Milk.

Stir all these ingredients together well: milk, sugar, vanilla, egg mixtures.

Pour into ice cream cylinder and insert the inner churn.

Place in wooden ice cream bucket and place hand crank on top.

Add crushed ice and rock salt in layers inside ice cream bucket.

icecream7

Then you start bartering to see who is going to hand-crank that old-fashion ice cream churn.

With the July heat and the task at hand, it’s a good thing to be able to laugh.

And the churning begins …

Nothing better than homemade ice cream on a hot July summer day in Louisiana.

And Watermelon!

Don’t forget the watermelon!

Gulf Coast Oil Spill Lesson for Kids

Posted July 5, 2010 at 3:18 pm
Filed Under Current Events | Leave a Comment

The creator at CurrClick reveals:

“Has your child been asking more questions about the recent oil spill than you have time to answer? I hope you find this mini-study to be very useful during this time. I put this unit together to try and give my children more understanding about what is going on. I pushed “politics” aside and focused on how this happened, what is being done, what is going on, and what the outcome could be. This unit was created to be easy to understand and not overwhelming. Included are the following: information pages, maps, photos, suggested website links, creature cards along with explanations of how the oil spill will affect them, coloring pages, and (cover sheets).

Check out this Gulf Oil Spill Mini-Study available for only .50 cents.

The Spirit of Louisiana

Posted June 30, 2010 at 9:50 pm
Filed Under Current Events, General, Welcome | 1 Comment

This whole summer has been a baptism of oil upon the Gulf and it will be remembered as such. Last time I wrote here I focused on the goodness of the Gulf. I wanted people to remember the good things despite the flaws that exist along our shores. Now our eyes are turned anew on the Gulf as Hurricane Alex makes his madcap dance across the Gulf. With the his tentacles reaching out to form an oil barrier in the Gulf, predictions of black rain lead some to make focused plans to stock up.

Can a hurricane really make it rain black gold and Texas tea?

Can a hurricane possibly help to contain the spill?

That’s debatable.

There have been oil spills before 2010. Worse spills than the Exxon Valdez. Here is a list of major oil spills since 1967, namely a few which impacted the Louisiana region:

June 3, 1979—Gulf of Mexico, 140 million gallons of crude oil

June 8, 1980—Galveston, Tx, 5.1 million gallons of oil

November 28, 2000—Mississippi River south of New Orleans, 567,000 gallons of crude oil

August-September 2005—New Orleans, 7 million gallons of oil

June 19, 2006—Calcasieu River, 71,000 barrels of waste oil

July 25, 2008—New Orleans, hundreds of thousands gallons of fuel

January 23, 2010—Port Arthur, Tx, 462,000 gallons of crude oil

Bet these other oil leaks are just a drop in the ocean of your memory compared to the Deepwater Horizon oil spill we’re currently dealing with. I’m having trouble getting an accurate estimate of the crude oil flow per day (ie: 35,000-60,000 barrels per day—capping at 42 gallons per barrel—seems to be the standard guess).

Everyone and their experts are trying to measure the spill. Here’s a neat little totalitarian gadget for all those who love widgets and such things.

But enough clicking and guessing. If you reverse the words ‘war’ with ‘oil spill’ and ‘land’ with ‘Gulf’, I think we can all agree with Ruby in the movie Cold Mountain: “They call this war a cloud over the land. But they made the weather and then they stand in the rain and say ‘Shit, it’s raining!’”

You’d have to watch the show to fully appreciate the spirit and wit of fiesty Ruby Thewes played by Renee Zellweger. A hillbilly with more common sense than the government, she speaks what other people think but refuse to say.

Humans do mess up but we also have an inner strength which helps us dig ourselves out of wretched wars, breached levees, and collapsed oil rigs … or so past history has proven.

And this strength runs deeper and thicker than the oil that plumes from that shattered pipe in the Gulf.

What is that inner strength? you ask.

Linda wrote in my combox the other day: ” … what Holly Beach does have that these so called “top beaches” don’t have is a gem far greater than tourism or awe inspiring sights bring. It’s the deep seeded Louisiana culture and love that each family brings to it that make these beaches worth coming back too. It’s another extension of the unparalleled sense of family this culture has to offer. So yeah, the waters here are “dull and murky” but the spirit is alive and well. Come on in!”

I couldn’t have said it better, Linda! The Gulf of Mexico and our shorelines do not define our state. Our families do. True, the Gulf coast is a major net fishing up things we all enjoy. It is this net which serves us handbaskets of seafood, fowl, and rice to keep our bellies satisfied; but without family to enjoy this feast the net might as well be a barrell of crushed oyster shells only fit to throw into a chicken yard.

Louisiana is so much more. It’s the spirit of a people. It’s the people around that picnic table, the hands that dip the net, add the corn and potatoes, and feed the whole lot of us which matter. Louisiana is, in essence, the people and the spirit brought to the table.

I don’t want to ignore serious issues here and I’m definitely not without heart and prayer for those affected by this or past blights. Nothing brought a lump to my throat quicker than hearing a little boy on the evening news say how he wanted to repair boats just like his daddy when he grows up but their family might have to move because there are no boats for his daddy to fix anymore.

I personally know people who have lost jobs to this recent tragedy. I know people who lost homes and their livelihood in past hurricanes. I offer the sign of peace to fellow church members who buried family members in Hurricane Audrey back in 1957.

Life has gone on. For better or worse, life continues.

“What we have lost will never be returned to us. The land will not heal – too much blood. All we can do is learn from the past and make peace with it.” ~ Ada from the movie Cold Mountain

Right now a cloud is hanging over our land. It isn’t the first time in our history and it won’t be the last. What we have lost can never be returned to us, but there is little we can do except learn from these tragedies and make peace with them. And move on. Sometimes generations of family must pass through stormy skies before the sunshine dominates the shadows.

We move on, not always to greener pastures and richer waters. Land, family, and a way of life here hold many of us bound to this tributary. But we move on in life, liberty and a pursuit of happiness. As all Americans do.

I will continue writing here about everything that sautes, spices, and simmers Louisiana in hopes that our culture and the people who live here will remember what matters. It isn’t the amount of crawfish on a newspaper-lined picnic table or the beer and cold drinks stacked in the ice chest that matter—ok, so I lie —as much as the people who share it with you.

I want this space to offer you all a virtual view of what makes Louisiana POP! What makes it go BAM! What we love about Louisiana … the places we love … the people who lurk behind duck blinds … the stories housed in the walls of plantation homes and planter cabins … the occasions that make you yell, “Throw me something, Louisiana!”

Like Ray in Disney’s Princess and the Frog we can believe that the star in the sky is Evangeline. You never know what will happen if you do. It’s a vision of something better, the hope of a better tomorrow, and belief in something beyond these shores that makes humans less wretched.

We can do this. We can so do this!

Besides coming to Louisiana Passport, another place I encourage you to scout is Louisiana Travel. Love it! Love it! Love it! Especially at Facebook where they pack weekly Louisiana happenings into your portable schedule. Just the other day they reminded us that we could cool off by floating down the Bogue Chitto River without worrying about tarballs. Just don’t go at it alone. Bring your family. Bring your friends.

Louisiana has more in its backyard than the Gulf. Embrace it! Embrace it with your family.

Together we’ll share the spirit that makes a state not just a state but a symbol of hope and pride, a sign of our times. Together we’ll show outsiders that Louisiana is the cream over the corn, the rum sauce over the bread pudding, and the plug in the oil leak.

So, yeah, come on in! The water is fine!

Facing the Gulf

Posted June 20, 2010 at 8:20 pm
Filed Under Current Events, General, Outdoors/Nature | 9 Comments

I stood looking at the Gulf of Mexico; deliberating it. My husband and daughters were playing tag with the surfs and they needed another floatie device. I had it … and they needed it.

The reason for my deliberation was not what you would think. In fact, there were no tar balls, oil, or BP representatives in sight. My deliberation was based on a childhood fear instead, a tide-pounding fear of being stung by a jellyfish. I found myself in a “sticky” situation standing on that shoreline. Quite honestly, I’ve never let anyone know about this fear. I’ve always inhaled my fear and put one foot in front of the other to do what I had to do to keep my children from thinking their mother was a total wimp.

So I left the shelter of the blue tent with the tailgate spread of sugary sweet watermelon h’orderves and iced-down water bottles, and gingerly stepped over a barrier of brown seaweed. I took the plunge and faced a primitive Gulf whose waves gently lulled me into its watery bed.

You have to know what we face in Louisiana that makes it so contrary to the Gulf entrances our neighbor’s (Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida) own and what their verandas open to. Louisiana beaches are not beautiful. They are not blue crystal. They are not sparkling mystical sands. They are not Florida. They are not the Caribbean. For those beaches we must save up, pack up, and travel to Florida or go on a cruise.

But I’m not writing about Florida’s beaches or the Caribbean. I’m writing about Louisiana and why those of us who go to the Gulf beaches keep going. Sometimes it’s simply all that we have. Nothing more. And we learn to love it, even if it isn’t white sands and blue water.

Louisiana beaches are primitive and murky dull. If there’s a jellyfish floating on the bottom you aren’t going to see it until it’s too late. Louisiana beaches are not known for their beauty. They bear only God’s imprint of life in the nude. Just as God created beautiful people and places, He also created plain. Our beaches are not sculptured havens; there is no commercial success invested here. They are plain. Nowadays everything has become commercialized and Hollywood-ized. Louisiana never has. Louisiana is still the unknowing baby, the unruly toddler, the defiant child who rebels against being with the in-crowd.

This is not Hollywood. This is Holly Beach. We aren’t on Broadway. We’re on the boardwalk and many of those boardwalks got walked on and trampled by Hurricane Rita. We are simple people living a simple life. Lifestyles have not changed much in three generations. Many families live much the same way their great grandparents lived. Life is more technical and comfortable, true, but we still arise under a Louisiana sun, eat Louisiana food, raise our children here, vote for those we choose and trust, rarely eat seafood not caught in the Gulf’s waterways by the hand of a family member, and go to sleep with pride that the sun still rises and sets over the state of Louisiana.

The beaches here are known for their raw sense of taste, smell, sight, sound, and feel. We’ve had other problems in the past such as bacteria contamination. This is life in the raw and that image—without make-up and facelifts and computerized imaging—is not always pretty to look at. It’s not always attractive.

The other day my 8-year-old asked her daddy “What exactly does attractive mean?”

Her daddy answered, “It means that it’s pleasant to look at. Easy on the eyes”

In making everything “attractive” and “easy on the eyes” we—in the 21st century—forget that life is not always beautiful. Life is not always attractive. Life is not always easy. In fact, more often than not, it is easy at all. It is often harsh and unpleasant.

In recent history, the people in Louisiana have had a front row viewing of life in the raw. It is not sucralose-coated or magazine perfect. We’re becoming too familiar with camera lens that are dirty and smeared. This panoramic view has taught us a lot about what really matters in life and what to do when you’re not the most popular kid in school. You learn that faith in God and family is more important than faith in leaders and government committees. You learn to look at what you have instead of what you don’t have and you realize that it’s good enough. You learn that humans take a lot for granted and that if the government takes something away it isn’t the end of the world. You also learn that you can do without a lot of things but land and family are something you need for survival and only God and the people of Louisiana can give you that. You learn to have more faith in yourself than you did before.

I hesitate to say that you have to be Louisiana born and raised to love these shores. Surely there are others who have come to these shores and thought them beautiful despite its mud-wafered sand, bountiful seaweed, and malt-frothy water. The shores are not beautiful but they are beauty personified.

To love it here you have to sense it. You have to taste it, not as an adult, but as a child.

Louisiana children love Louisiana beaches for things we wouldn’t imagine: the sprinkle of sand in the hot dogs, the smell of everything beach, the splintering sound the watermelon makes when sliced with a knife, the taste of salt on your lips when you wipe the drip of watermelon off your chin with your wet hand, hollybeachfood

the clicking of seashells in plastic buckets, the cool lip of a shell on your ear and the lisp of the seven seas in your ear,

the clear faucet water poured over sandy barefeet before being allowed inside the truck,

finding a lost piece of coral and the teeniest, tiniest baby crab in the whole world! … (look for the tiniest crab in the world on the thumb)

… the overhead serenade of seagulls,

and the sight of shrimp boats still catching edible pink shells on the horizon.

Once I reached the dip of the embackment into the seabottoms, my husband did the gentlemanly thing and held my blue chariot so I could slip onto the float and ride the waves. My heroic walk into the Gulf was worthy of a trophy ride on the waves. On that blue floating chair I no longer worried about stepping on a jellyfish or a broken beer bottle or mistaking a wisp of seaweed around my ankles for a jellyfish. I could just relax and enjoy the gulf breezes and the hint of salt spray on my lips.

It took me back to my childhood. Back to sand-encrusted hot dog buns, ankles with disappearing feet in brown water, fears of jellyfish fields, watermelons seeds buried in sand, castles built on sandy foundations, tar moles on flip-flops (back in the 70’s), year-old swimsuits turned dingy with chicory-bleached beach water,

hollybeach7

and the realization that brown water feels just as good on skin smeared under a Louisiana sky as crystal blue water feels on skin lotioned under a Florida sky.

I’m digging for reassuring words here. Digging …

… but for a moment nothing mattered. None of it. Not the new hurricane year. Not the oil spill. The Gulf was, for me and my children, simply what it was. It has always been there, always a part of my life. It isn’t the Atlantic or Pacific. It isn’t Palm Beach. It isn’t the French Riviera. It’s just the water in my backyard.

The same trepidation and deliberation that foreshadowed my barefoot convergence into the Gulf has followed me in deciding whether to write anything about the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico in this little space. In my mind, plenty has already been written. Too much, in fact. Too much written. Too little done. Why should this little column that boasts, toots, and dishes up all things Louisiana spew more ink on the massive spill of words out there? Words are sometimes simply words and don’t get the job done.

I am neither an oil rig worker, a government official, an pipe expert, the CEO of an oil company, or a Hollywood star with Kevin Costner status. I am none of these things. I am simply a hometown girl from Louisiana. I am a little voice in a tidal wave of controversy and endless discussion. This gives me no clout.

What I am is a child who was brought to these beaches as a child. I am a mother with children who are native to Louisiana and who I wish to see grow healthy and happy and at home here in the wilds of Louisiana. I am a granddaughter whose grandparents all came from the oak-lineage of Acadian roots to the prairie farms of Southwest Louisiana where the Cajun drawl was sharpened by a twist of Texas twang.

My grandfather worked in the oil fields of Louisiana and my husband’s grandfather had oil wells in Nebo, LA that were divided nine times over then split again amongst my husband and his brothers. It’s a mere drop in a much larger bucket. Our son now works for an environmental group at Conoco. Pretty ironic, isn’t it? Yet that is the circle of life here in Louisiana. We depend upon these oil refineries for our livelihood. Many workers are fishermen themselves. We live and work in harmony and peace with the shrimpers and fishermen who make their modest living in the shadow of those oil rigs which bring in substantial incomes and a better way of life for Louisiana. It’s a dance between big business and the people of Louisiana. We have danced well for decades. Now someone must pay the fiddler.

Who will pay? Who will?

We all will.

But, to keep a postive note here, it really isn’t within big business or the government’s power to give or take away from us. It’s what God and family hands down to us that matters and what we do with it. What have you done with your children and grandchildren this summer? Have you sat indoors watching CNN or FOX and berating BP and the government? Or did you offer your children a taste of salt and wind from one of Louisiana’s many beaches? Did you offer him a chance to carve his name in the sand, and look out over a Gulf where the water still feeds brown pelicans and porpoise still ride in unison next to shrimp boats?

Have you taken your children down to the Gulf and let them look in wonder over the horizon to the end of the world? And know that their feet stand on a slippery slope? Do they realize how shifting, how unstable, how fading sand really is?

I want my children to know that not all beaches are beautiful and pure. Some are just plain ol’ beaches, a little tired, a little used, but, like an old pair of flip-flops, they are comfortable. Their simplicity is what welcomes the simple folk. These beaches are just as alive and teeming with life as their neighbor’s sandbars. They are worth our time and our admiration.

Life is so simple really, especially in Louisiana. Don’t allow the hurricanes of defeat and doubt to take away your faith in Louisiana. Take the hand of your children and walk towards the Gulf sometime this summer … this month. It’s still out there, cleaner than I’ve seen it in a long time. It’s beautiful. Don’t listen to everything you’re fed on the evening news. Instead, take your child by the hand and feed him a piece of Louisiana this summer. If you don’t, who will? Rest assured, it won’t be BP and it won’t be the government.

It can only be you.

Let your child embrace Louisiana as it is now. Let his eyes see the water. Let his face feel the wind. Let his ears hear the cry of the seagulls overhead. Let his hands roll and inspect petals of shell in his hands. Let his tongue taste a watermelon on the beach. hollybeachwatermelon

Future generations of Louisiana may not remember Katrina and Rita of 2005 or the oil spill of 2010 but they will remember your hand in theirs and the beauty of a day on the beach with you. And they’ll be able to tell their children and their grandchildren that Louisiana’s beaches were just as beautiful as any other beach God ever made. And, most important of all, your children will know that you cared about them and the place they call home.

Oh, one last thing … be sure to bring a watermelon with you.

[Update: for Gulf Oil Spill Updates go to: http://oilspill.louisianatravel.com/office-tourism-update]

A Jar Full of Louisiana Summer

Posted June 15, 2010 at 1:01 am
Filed Under Food, Recipes | Leave a Comment

My friend Christy posted an offering on Facebook: “Local Friends: Anyone want some cucumbers??????”

I felt her weight.

Anyone who planted a garden in Southwest Louisiana this spring is now wheelbarrowing in their own vegetable supply of cucumbers, squash, zucchini, bell peppers, and tons of green onion. Abundantly so. Those who didn’t plant will be grateful for your surplus, especially the shoppers in the family.

This past weekend, my countertops were beginning to bellyache with piles of yellow and green vegetables. Squash casserole doesn’t go over well in my household. Luckily they freeze well. Same with zucchini. And it’s a sin to let a cucumber rot in this household. This mommy refuses to pay .86 cents a crispy veggie stick.

So what do we do when there is too much to eat freshly plucked? Every person born and raised in Louisiana has a Grandma who canned fruits and vegetables in days gone by. If yours didn’t, please let me know what that poor soul did in the days before television, Internet, little league games, and Facebook.

So Sunday afternoon my husband and youngest daughter chopped and sliced and diced and ended up with a metal bowl full of summer goodness. My brother-in-law contributed a slip of paper with no name. I’m calling it Cajun Relish but you can label it anything you like and add whatever summer abundance you want. Oma suggested adding garlic and cauliflower. We hadn’t thought of that and Husband wishes he had definitely thought of the cauliflower. But we didn’t plant any and that would have meant buying a head at the supermarket which would have tainted our garden jar and compromised our hobby farm.

While I admit to griping a bit after his third trip to the store for canning jars (he had already canned mayhaw and blackberry jellies), this recipe is a cousin to bread-and-butter pickles which my mother-in-law made religiously and which takes my husband back to summer days on Memama’s farm and summer evenings around the kitchen table with family. How can I deny him that pleasure?

Now days I think of all those rouge belly jars I never returned to my mother-in-law. I remember kind reminders each time she handed me a jar and I remember my lack of diligence. I know she understood and excused it as youth. Now days I’m the buyer of those little jars and, while I still have many useless jars in my cabinet (which the children sometimes drink from), I realize that kind reminders with the fruit are a sweet way to share the wealth and allow family and friends to become part of the recycle-cycle. So be sure to tell your family and friends that the only price tagged on that little jar of summer is the return of that little jelly jar. It means a lot.

Cajun Relish

1 gallon sliced cucumbers, squash, zucchini, etc., 2 sliced white onions, 2 sliced bellpeppers, 1 1/2 teaspoon pickling salt, 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves, 2 cups sugar, 2 cups apple cider vinegar, 2 teaspoon mustard seed, 2 teaspoon celery seed, 2 teaspoon tumeric

Slice and combine cucumbers, peppers, onions, etc. in a large pan or jar. Let the little helpers eat as much veggie candy as they desire. Raw vegetables are better for them anyway and they probably won’t care for the pickled stuff until they’re older. Add 1/3 cup pickling salt (separate form 1 1/2 teaspoon in recipe) filled with water. Let stand for 3 hours.

Drain well and rinse lightly (very lightly). Cover with ice. When ice has melted, place iced vegetables and remaining ingredients in pot and stir together.

Bring mixture to a rolling boil (that will not stop boiling when being stirred). Stir well. Fill hot sterilized canning jars leaving 1/2 in. headspace. Cap and screw lids quickly. You may put jars in boiling water for a 5 minute bath until lids have sealed.

Let cure for 3-5 weeks. One week is enough for those men cooks who are eager to enjoy the pickled produce of their gardens.

Tour of Avery Island, Part 3

Posted June 8, 2010 at 9:27 pm
Filed Under Avery Island, Entertainment, Family Fun, General, Outdoors/Nature, Travel | 2 Comments

Part I

Part 2

averyislandbamboogarden Before getting back in our cars to head to the entrance of Avery Island, a short walk takes us past pineapple jugs of palm trees into the Bamboo Garden where dreadlocks of bamboo are as sparse as a cancer patient’s hair during chemo. I have my own list of theories for this ill status:

storm damage from recent hurricanes

pirating by tourists who feel the need to hack a souvenir, made evident by the number of cut bamboos strewn around the thinning forest

a natural compulsion by little people to insist they need a walking stick for the rest of their garden venture

It becomes a contest to see who can find the largest, longest stalk of bamboo in the jungle. And to see who is the strongest Jungle Jane of all.

From there the welcoming roads drive you through grooves of live oak trees whose ancient sagging arms bid adieu to you. The live oaks are the one thing that makes this oasis different from all the other oases in the United States. They have something the other oases don’t have: inviting beds and quilts of Spanish Moss.

As we leave the gardens, let’s swing by the Tabasco Factory again. It’s fixing to close for the day but there is something in the gift shop I’d like to show you.

Every trip taken in Louisiana needs to end with a front porch visit afterall.

And the gift shop on Avery Island doesn’t only sell it’s famous tabasco sauce …

averyislandtourshop … it also dishes out free samples of tabasco-flavored ice cream!

The ice cream is actually pretty good—as crazy as it sounds to eat spiced ice cream—and for $10.00 a bucket you can bring your own powdery freeze-dry bucket home to share with family and friends.

Enjoy your time on the front porch and take care. This ends our visit to Avery Island, Louisiana on an equally sweet-and-spicy note.

Until our next visit … Adieu!

Tour of Avery Island, Part 2

Posted June 5, 2010 at 8:45 pm
Filed Under Avery Island, Botany, Family Fun, Outdoors/Nature, Travel | Leave a Comment

Part I

I must apologize for leaving my readers unsupervised in the wilds of Avery Island. It was very unhospitable and un-southern of me. An optimist would remind us that being left in a garden during the month of May is not a bad thing at all, so we’ll go with that.

I’m sure everyone knows what happens to families in May and our family of seven is no different. Being good Cajun Catholics that we are, we had a first communion, a confirmation, a May Crowning, graduation for friends, an anniversary, and a birthday to celebrate. May was, in brief, hectically busy.

Springtime in all its pomp and glory!

Speaking of which … let’s get back on the trail and sneak down into the Sunken Garden.

Suspecting the reason I like this section best of all the gardens is because of my longtime desire to explore the Mayan Ruins, I was anxious to show it to my daughter. Daddy and other daughter didn’t want to walk down into the sunken pit of the earth so our descent into hades was quieter and more meditative.

The Sunken Gardens are a hidden cave of palms, ferns, papyrus, and shrub which shelter a picturesque pool of water. It’s a perfect spot for a young girl to sit, daydream, and stir the fountain of youth. I think my daughter liked it as much as I do.

I admit that I was a bit hesitant to the prospect of mosquitoes mists and serpents lurking around the reflective pool, especially when my daughter sat on the edge and began swatting at the water with a bamboo pole. With a younger child I would have been more anxious because the area is very secluded and hidden but there is a time for safety precautions and a time for reflecting in the moments we are given. Luckily there were no mists of mosquites to test my serenity. Bamboo sticks abound on Avery Island and make wonderful walking sticks, stirring spoons, magical wands and flashing swords.

We got lost coming back up the incline and trying to find Dad and sister. It gave us a chance to view some parts of the garden that are probably a no-man’s-land of sorts and, as it took us to the gravel path where we were able to backtrack to the car, all ended well. Back on the road, it is time to hitch a vehicle ride to Bird City, only with people you know, of course, as this bird sanctuary is a little way down the road.

Bird City! The kids love this city because it is none like you (or they) have ever seen before. When you arrive you’ll park your car and walk through a lovely open meadow.

And approach what was originally known as Willow Pond. Be observant of signs.

As you near a swamp of guacamole algae …

… and climb a flight of stairs to a viewing alcove, …

… you’ll hear the gentle flapping of wings and the harsh squawk of thousands of birds who have returned to Avery Island along the spring breezes to air out their bedding and set up housekeeping.

Your first sight of this bird sanctuary is ______________________________ (I’ll let you fill in the blank when you see it).

The story is that E. A. McIlhenny was concerned about the demise of the Snowy Egrets which were being killed off to supply their thick white mimosa-spiked plumage as adornment for lady’s hats in the 1890’s. E.A. McIlhenny’s desire was to preserve these birds for future generations so he banded several young ones and set up a natural habitat for them. You can read about this history of Bird City in E.A. McIlhenny’s own words at the bottom of this page (click and scroll down): Saving the Egret and Making Bird City

(Snowy Egret painting by naturalist John James Audubon)

E.A. McIlhenny (affectionately known as Mr. Ned) released his birds in the fall to do something as natural as breathing … fly out over Gulf and migrate to the south … and every spring since tourists, who flock to Avery Island, await and welcome their return. You can see E.A. McIlhenny’s own documentation concerning the banding of his birds on Avery Island here: A Record of Birds Banded at Avery Island, Louisiana

To view this sanctuary with a child is to stand in awe and thanksgiving of the naturalists of the past who gave generations of the future a present view from the eagle’s nest. That’s the link that connects one generation to another. Thank you, Mr. Ned.