Tower of change in the swamp

It is one of those things none of us can live without anymore, the signals that bounce from other peoples’ telephones to the towers that carry them, to other towers that bounce them to our phones.

As much as we are dependent on our communications devices, many of us talk fondly about the days when the boss or spouse couldn’t find us no matter where we were; the relative peace of not being locatable.

Although an entire generation has now grown old enough to vote with no memory of not having an electronic leash, there are still some places where the cell phone doesn’t work.

I was there just about a week ago.

I used to live there, in Kraemer, on the banks of Bayou Boeuf, well, technically on Bayou Boeuf, in a camp-boat. It was a magical time when I might find an alligator sunning itself outside the front deck or a snake in the head.

The former occurred a lot, the latter, thankfully, with less frequency.

My visit to Kraemer included visits to a few former neighbors. At Edwina’s Cookin’ Cajun restaurant, part of the Zam’s Swwamp Tour complex, there was the aroma of frying fish and gator, and tourists from all over the world ogling the wild and free swimming alligators and the captive big snakes that are kept in a special viewing room.

“Ooh” and “ah” I have learned at Zam’s, are universal words that are understood in any language.

Diana Tregle held court as bikers came by for beers and families toured her family’s backyard menagerie of alligators, turtles and goats.

With its moss-draped trees and palmettos, Kraemer is a place where you can still question if some Cajun version of Bigfoot is going to come thrashing through the swamp in pursuit of a hapless boater, observe a bald eagle at close sight and see families of turtles on fallen logs all in the same day.

It is a place where the wired telephone was slow to develop along with indoor plumbing, but remained not so far removed from all those trappings of civilization. There is a lot to be said for some of that, which is good.

Of course there is a flip side to that coin.

After Hurricane Gustav residents were unable to communicate because the wired phones were down and there was no such thing as cell service. Motorists who find themselves stranded on La. Highway 307, the 10-mile swampy stretch of no man’s road where I myself once ran over a huge alligator and once saw frogs raining from the sky, can’t just call from their cars to get assistance if they are stuck.

But all that has changed.

AT&T has built a great tower, which will bring cellular service to this most remote area of what some call “the bay area” – it is so close to Chackbay – and now you will be able to get bugged by your boss or spouse while drinking in the sights and sounds of the swamp from tours at Zam’s or Torres, or munching fried fish at Edwina’s or a famous burger from Trudy’s Restaurant.

As of this week the new 150-foot cell tower will supply the most advanced types of signals.

If you were mailing a letter at the old Kraemer Post Office, which was taken out of commission a few years back, you could talk to your Aunt Susan in Ronkonkoma or your mother in Sheboygan. And you would likely hail it as a modern miracle.

But, as stated, the Post Office is no more. So Kraemer has in essence traded its under-utilized postal counter for a cell signal that will be utilized greatly, and I guess that’s progress.

If I still lived on Bayou Boeuf I would welcome it for a variety of reasons. For the sake of the residents I am happy now. But part of me also wants to shed a wee tear.