I just read a blog entry that someone shared on Facebook called, "The Cajun Test;" by a blogger named "The Impatient Cajun;"and now I'm terribly homesick. You know, the funny thing about me is that I'm not a Cajun by birth or blood. Actually, I'm a hybrid. My mother is from Tennessee, and my stepdad/daddy to me is from Louisiana. For me, I grew up in the best of both worlds, because I feel like I got to be immersed in both cultures. I got the Country music and the Zydeco, the rice and potatoes, the crawfish and the fat back (until I became a vegetarian). South Louisiana is so full of rich culture, music, food, jokes, language, and family traditions. I'll say it again, but there's no where on Earth--or the 18 other countries I've been to so far--like it. I wouldn't take a million dollars for it.
I grew up hearing the little old people speaking Cajun French, and I never thought a thing about it. Everybody went to Mardi Gras parades; everybody tailgated; everybody drank hard, partied hard, and prayed hard. They still do; I'm just not there as much to witness it.
I realize that most of the real South Louisiana things I grew up with centered around my step-grandparents. And all of the traditional Tennessean and country traditions centered around my Nanny and Pop. Now, don't get me wrong: we had the traditional Christmas dinners and things at our house. We had crawfish boils and fish fries for Good Friday on many years. It was just so different when they were at someone else's house.
But the most vivid, traditional, South Louisiana memories I have as a child are those ones at Granny and Grandpa's house in Belle Rose. All the grandkids still got together, before everyone got married and had kids or went away to school. Thanksgiving, Good Friday, and Easter Sunday were the really big dinners we always had at Granny and Grandpa's. Everybody brought food and made food and gorged on Granny's famous chocolate chip cookies and "pop ices." We rode Grandpa's four-wheeler with no helmets, usually putting one of the outside patio sofa's cushions on the back rack so that we could fit an extra child or two. We only fell off once, when it really hurt. We tore up the cane roads and made trails in their massive back yard. We must have driven the neighbors absolutely crazy during those days. Back in those days, the plantation where both Granny and my daddy grew up (Belle Alliance) was just a shell of a massive house. It was incredibly spooky, with holes in the roof and holes in the massive wooden floors. There were fireplaces and ceiling medallions in disrepair and empty, dark rooms. We rode the four wheeler on the grounds there too, stealing moss from the trees and having birthday parties at the pool on the property.
Anyway, those memories are still so vivid in my mind. Those times at Granny and Grandpa's were so filled with fun and imagination. Once they were both gone, it's like the heart of the family went with them. Don't get me wrong, the family still gets together from time to time. It just isn't and never will be the same. To me, the traditions didn't come from the holidays; instead, the ritual was going to Belle Rose and eating at the kids' table, riding the four wheeler, and being on your best behavior. The ritual was pressed napkins, silver, goblets, and Granny's famous dessert parfaits, Easter egg hunts, and trip to the Baton Rouge City Club after church on Easter Sunday. I always thought it was so neat that Grandpa passed the collection plate. And what a small, beautiful church they went to!
Anyway, sorry for the nostalgia; but I just miss it sometimes. I like the traditions I'm making with my family too; but I'm allowed to miss the ones I no longer have.
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