DIGITAL DIALOG
August 24, 2017
SHANKLIN WANTS BIG SENIOR SEASON
August 24, 2017
Caution: This column is partly humorous but will continue next week with true stories about school in the ’30s and ’40s and how we survived. —
A few weeks ago, my granddaughter Camille entered my house quietly and said, “PaPa, we have to talk.”
That got my attention. She always stops at my house first after school or work from her part-time job at the local food center with an iPhone on her ear, where I believe it’s permanently cemented, and sits down.
Usually she dashes in, says hello and phones for news with her friends that she left less than 20 minutes ago. That usually takes an hour. She then talks to her grandmother about a half-hour in a whisper, so I don’t know what they’re talking about. She then yells, “I love you!” and it’s gone pecan. If any of this sounds familiar, then you have one or more in your house.
First, you must know that she and I have a sense of humor and we banter all the time. “PaPa, look I got my ring, I’m a senior now, aren’t you proud?
(Leroy): “I’m a senior, you’re still a kid, – a brat at that – and the Las Vegas odds were 5-to-1 against you. I’m proud, but I’ll be prouder to see you on stage with your cap and gown. Pretty ring. How much did it cost?”
(C:) “$400 and you helped pay for it. I know you still wear your 1946 Golden Meadow ring you got for $35”.
(L:) “1946 dollars.”
We both laugh. This Abbott and Costello routine between us goes on whenever we have a chance. Then, like my other grandchildren, she almost always gets what she wants.
(C:) “I need stuff from Amazon which cost $7 and if you love me, you’ll let me buy it.”
I answered, “It will come out of your allowance, which is in the red already, but go ahead. With all the stores around, why do you buy stuff from a river in South America?”
“As far as loving you, there’s a law or a commandment that says I must whether I want to or not, and in this case I want to, but you could have bought that with your allowance.”
(C ) “To graduate, I have to write a report on how school was during the ’30s and ’40s. She told me to interview an old person and you’re the oldest person I know. No offense.
(L:) “Offense! Gee, thanks. There are a few alligators in the bayou who might be older than me but that might be too dangerous, so shoot the questions.”
(C:) “She wants a narrative from you first. That’s a story, you know.”
(L:) “I’m aware, I write one every week.”
So here goes…
First of all, we had no transportation, so we either walked, paddled pirogues, or rode horses to get there. If we were late, the warden would shackle us and apply 30 lashes. If we walked, there were huge piles of oyster shells to cross over – uphill, both ways. There were canals to cross. The boys could jump them, but a few girls fell in. There were always volunteers to help them up. You wanted to know how we communicated, well in South Lafourche and Terrebonne parishes, there were friendly Indian Tribes living south of us closer to the water where they made their living.
They argued they were here before the Cajuns and the Americans. That brought us a good laugh. They showed us how to use the Tom-Tom and smoke signals to commutate. That was great but my arms got tired writing long messages, especially for school lessons.
The stage coach brought the mail and the butcher stopped every day. There were also many salesmen, all on horses which is why we kept shovels around the house.
(C:) “Hold on PaPa, I heard all those old jokes about your schooling, but if I write that, I’ll be expelled. Can you tell the true story?”
(L:) Sure, I was just kidding, I’ll dig up pictures and real stories next week. BYE NOW!
Louisiana hasn’t always been a clean place politically, as Leroy Martin discusses in this week’s column. He also discusses a great tragedy he witnesses.
