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Counting the Blessings - Re-Counting the Tales

Life is a Trip – Come Along for the Ride

In May of this year, l996, my friend Margaret Murphy and I attended an

Elderhostel Program in Georgia. We really went to take the Golf course, (use the

golf course), and ended up in a Course of story- telling. We had more fun in that

course because the teacher was so entertaining, and the group was a good one, but

she insisted that we write down our own "Tales", so here goes. Hold on to your hat.

Top row, Lillian Mestayer, (Nantee), Tante Lulu DeGruy, Uncle Louis DeGruy,

Daddy, Carmen Mestayer. Aspasie Mestayer, Pere Mestayer, Yvonne DeGruy, Mere

Mestayer, Uncle Roland Mestayer.

I can't remember when I was born, but I am told it was on April 22, 1921. That

was a long time ago and God has been so good to me. So many happenings and

blessings.

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We lived on Audubon Street, in New Orleans, La. I was four

years old and my mother had died from complications of

childbirth. Her maiden name was Jeanne Olivier. My

brother, Dick, was eight years old, sisters Mildred, Jane and

I were seven, six and

four, respectively,

and Bessie was four

months. My father’s

mother and sister

agreed to care for

us. I can't imagine

anyone taking on a job like that, but they

did. My first memories are of my Father,

Grandmother who was Mere to everybody, and my

Aunt, Nantee. My other grandmother, Mere Olivier,

(MereO, as she was called) would have taken my

sister Jane and brother Dick, but my father wanted

us to stay together, so we went to the Mestayers.

Mere's maiden name was Richard and MereO's

maiden name was Maspero. She married Caesar

Olivier. MereO's mother was named Lombard, and

the home where she was born is way down on

Chartres Street and is an old plantation home that

is now being restored and will be listed in the

Historical List of old homes. Let me state here that

all the grandmothers were called “Mere”, which

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means “mother” in French. The custom is still in use today in our family. My

sisters, cousins and all grandmothers are called Mere. It gets confusing when a lot

of nieces and nephews are around and you don’t know which Mere is being

addressed.

My grandmother Mere

Mestayer's house was

too small for six extra

people so my father

built a large house on

Paris Avenue, which

seemed like the country

back then. It had a full

basement above ground

and the main floor was

upstairs. We could

skate and play in the

basement, have plays;

the washwoman would

come and wash clothes in a tin tub over the coal fire, and hang the clothes to dry

down there. When we didn't play in the basement, we were allowed to play on the

sidewalk (called the banquette) in front and side of the house.

Our house was one block from St. Leo’s church

and Mere went there every time the doors

opened, we thought. Lots of times we went

with her. I find myself doing the same thing.

School was behind the church and we all

attended there. We would come home for

lunch, and it was such a big treat if we could

take our lunch to school once in a while. I

would smell my sandwich, which was usually

bologna, and so good! I would sit on it to make

it flat. Also we would smell each others

sandwiches, (all the lucky ones who could take

their lunches) all day. There was no such thing

as a cafeteria or lunch room. We ate our

sandwiches on the benches, and it was the

same in High School, I think.

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Life wasn't too exciting back then, as everyone (it seemed) led a very structured

life. I know we did. Nantee was very strict and we were well disciplined. We had a

large sleeping porch in the back, with ten windows and five beds. Most of the time

we took naps after lunch, and later after school. How we hated that. There was

no air-conditioning then, and it was so hot! We would get up soaking wet. Then we

got a Window fan and it brought the hot, humid air in. Even when I later visited

Nantee with my growing children, she would make everyone take a nap. Our house

had central heat with radiators in every room except the sleeping porch. There

was a small gas heater in each of the two bathrooms and one in the central hall .We

would get out of bed in the mornings when it was freezing and run to the hall to

dress in front of the heater. We would sleep with open windows at night and we

stayed healthy.

We would make colored sand by mixing sand with powdered brick, bluing, and

anything we could to get some color, as we had to find our own entertainment.

When we got old enough, about l0, I think, we were allowed to skate and ride bikes

around the block. We would put on plays in the basement and charge people to

come see them... (We probably let them in free). A girl across the street took

dancing lessons and we would use all of her old dance costumes - (squeeze into

them). Everybody had to perform something - that's all I can remember about

that - as there was not a whole lot of talent there, especially when it came to

dancing. We would hang sheets for the curtains, and put chairs around. That was

a lot of fun. We didn’t go to other houses very often. We stayed home and out

friends were always welcomed to come. In later years, when we were teenagers

and had dates, we would have parties and dance to records. There would be

refreshments, and I imagine everybody would go home about 11:00 P.M. We also

played “baseball” with a broomstick and a homemade ball. I think it was a cork with

scraps of cloth wrapped around it. What is now a street beside the house was a

vacant lot and we played there. All ages played and it was fun. We played dodge –

the-ball. And of course we played marbles, Jacks, TiddleyWinks, etc. When we

were a little older we played Michigan Auction and that was fun. We also learned

to play bridge which was a lot less complicated than what we play today. Mere

loved to play Bingo and we would play almost every Friday night. Nantee would have

some of the children in the neighborhood over to teach them Catechism. Then we

had a bingo party. Mere also loved to play Casino and we would have to play with

her.

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We wore school

uniforms - Navy blue

pleated wool skirts

with white blouses.

My grandmother

sewed all of the

uniforms, and the

blouses had buttons

to hold up the skirts.

There was a double

band at the waist to

conceal the buttons.

We had two skirts

and about three

blouses, and would

hand them down to the next one that they would fit. We wore black cotton

stockings with garters above the knee. We were not allowed to wear socks until it

got warm enough in the Spring, usually about Easter. We wore saddle oxfords and

had one good pair of shoes for Sunday, as well as one dress.

It was a big treat to go to Canal street. It ran from the Mississippi River all the

way to Lake Ponchartrain. If we had to meet anyone, we always met under the

Large Clock in front of D.H. Holmes department store. It was a very nice store

and has been sold to Dillard's. Canal Street divided the downtown from the

uptown areas. The people from uptown would go downtown to Canal St. and the

people from downtown would go uptown to Canal Street. Most of the French

people settled in the Vieux Carre, (French Quarter). The big markets were there

and also the Morning Call Coffee and Doughnut place. It is still one of the biggest

tourist attractions there. Also the French Market, a large outdoor market. The

French people used to make Drip Coffee in a pot by dropping one spoonful of

boiling water at a time. It was so strong and black because the coffee had chicory

in it so they added hot milk, which made it Café au Lait.

MereO lived in Jackson Barracks with my uncle Dr. "Patie" Estopinal and his wife,

Aunt Andre', Aunt Marie and Tante Dideen Olivier. Aunt Marie was my brother's

godmother so we all called her Dick's Nenaine. That is another French name

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meaning Godmother. “Parain” means Godfather. That

is so amusing, I think. I remember going to spend the

night with my godmother, Aunt Andre and

MereO. The minute the sun started going down I

would call my daddy to come and get me as I was

homesick. I was like that for a long time, in fact,

almost forever, especially while my daddy was living.

We adored him. He was so sweet and loving. As were

Nantee and Mere. Everybody we knew spoke French.

We could understand it but couldn't speak it. When

they didn't want us to know what they were talking

about, they would keep us wondering. The French

were very clannish and when a French person married

someone of a different nationality, they pronounced

their name in French. They were distressed when the

schools started teaching in the English language

instead of French. That was before our time, however.

MereO was a tiny little lady who loved flowers and people and was so generous, she

gave everything away. When we would take her a present, she would turn around

and give it to one of us, so my father started giving her money. She loved and

grew flowers so much she would help herself to everybody else’s, and I remember

one day in particular, my sister Jane and I rode the streetcar to the Barracks,

(incidentally, the Barracks was where Andrew Jackson housed his troops and there

was a group of large two-story buildings where they lived.) After the war, my

uncle, having been an officer in the army, stayed there to live. The rooms were so

big, with a porch surrounding both floors, with large pillars. There was a family

living upstairs in the building in which they lived. But to get back to the story,

when Jane and I got ready to leave, MereO gathered a big bunch of flowers for us

to take home. We didn't want them and the minute we got outside the Barracks,

we dumped them in the trash can because we were too embarrassed to take them

on the streetcar. Kids are so foolish at times.

The Barracks was in Chalmette, La. on the Mississippi River and we would play on

the levee. It was beautiful there. It looks so different now, and I don't know if

military people still live there. It seems so much smaller now. My uncle Alfred

Olivier and Aunt Camille lived in Chalmette and had a tennis court. My brother

Dick was the same age as their daughter, Heloise, and they played tennis a lot

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there. They would have

tournaments, fish and

hunt a lot. Dick spent a

lot of time visiting them.

Another cousin on my

mother's side was

Andre and she married

Paul Briant. She is still

living and is an artist as

is her son, Peter, who is

a well-known artist in

New Orleans, and has

lots of prints of New

Orleans scenes (streetcars, Venders, etc.) I believe Janet must have inherited her

talent from that side of the family.

There were many old homes in the downtown side of New Orleans where we were

living. A lot of them were called "Camel-back" houses with the second level in the

rear of the house. There were also a lot of “shotgun " houses. They were called

that because it was told you could fire a shotgun through the front door it would

exit the rear door without striking a wall. The hall went straight to the back of

the house. They were 4 or 5 rooms, one behind the other and a tiny bathroom off

one side, the only private room in the house. The front and back doors both had

shutters to let the air circulate through the house. Some of the houses were

divided into two, side by side with a common wall in the center. They were called

doubles. Duplex houses were one floor above the other. Most of the houses just

had "stoops", three or four steps. The neighbors would sit on them to visit. Later

they put "galleries" in front. Many of those old houses are being restored and are

considered "charming", which is nice, I guess.

Another thing I remembered was the Ice Box- a large two-part wooden box. The

Iceman would come in a wagon and put a large block of ice in the top part. It had a

big drip-pan which would have to be emptied every couple of hours. It would spill

on the floor and have to be wiped up. If no-one was there, the iceman would leave

it on the steps and the father would have to get his big tongs and move it inside.

We would often run after the ice wagon to get a piece of ice when he chopped it

into large blocks. Also, there was the Snowball wagon and we would get our glass

from inside and get a snowball for a nickel. The Iceman had a scraper and would

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scrape the ice and you could choose any flavor of syrup .The biggest treat was to

go uptown to Canal and go the K & B drugstore for a chocolate ice cream soda.

They were delicious!

Mere did all the cooking - never let us into the kitchen, so when I got married I

had to learn to boil water! She did all the grocery buying over the phone, and they

would deliver everything. The vegetable man, Mr. Russell, would stop by each

morning to see if she needed any fresh vegetables, and they would sit on the porch

and visit. She would get fruit from him, also. She ordered her meat from the

butcher shop, and it was delivered. I can't remember ever going to a grocery

store until I was grown. We ordered from the Drug Store also. We had our milk,

bread and wine (by the gallon) delivered. I don't know what those things cost

then, and never thought to ask, especially since we didn't shop.

Nantee was in charge of the children, the

discipline part. She had been a teacher and quit to

help her mother with the children. She also played

the organ at St. Ann's church and gave piano

lessons at home. I took for four years, but didn't

enjoy it because I had to practice scales and music

I didn't like. She also accompanied Jane at her

violin lessons. Jane had a professor who came on

the bus every Saturday, and Nantee would

accompany them. Jane was an accomplished

violinist, but as so many other things, she outgrew

it. She could have made a career of it if she had

wanted to dedicate her life to it, and she obviously

didn't. Sis taok piano lessons for a while and she

ended up being a wonderful pianist by playing “by ear”. She did not have to use

music sheets and could play anything she heard and also sound like the different

players. She is still in demand by the Schools and Churches to play and is very

talented in that way. I can’t remember Bessie taking lessons. Nantee probably

gave up on us about that time.

Once or twice a year we would go on the bus or street-car to Audubon Park to go

swimming in the pool. I remember the tale about when Sis went to the Park with

Tante Lulu and her kids. She fell off the swing and stayed on the ground,

pretending she was unconscious. When Tante Lulu mentioned calling the ambulance,

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Sis dramatically “came to”, That was typical of her. She is still dramatic. When

she sneezes she can be heard a block away. We thought the pool was so big, and

Nantee thought it was cleaner than the City Park pool, which was closer to us. So

we would have to go all across town to Audubon Park. Of course we took a picnic

lunch and that was a big treat. Also, every once in a while we would go to the

Gentilly Circle, a park about the size of a small city block. It was perfectly round,

and was a block away from our house. We would take sandwiches and eat supper

there. We thought that was great. There was no equipment in the Circle to play

on, and I don't remember what we did there, except chase each other around and

play hide and seek among the big palm trees that grew there. The circle is now

gone and there is a big intersection there. We would also go for walks across the

railroad and there was a little bridge where we were told the Old Troll lived so we

would tromp our feet, like the “Billygoats Gruff”. Then the troll would stay in the

water. All simple kid fun! (we thought) Oh, how simple life was then. It was a

wonderful treat for us to go to Lake Ponchartrain. There was a little beach there

but better than that there was a wonderful amusement park with all sorts of rides.

One in particular was the Zephyr, a really scary rollercoaster. The Lake was miles

and miles of seawall. Later when we were dating we would go there to shrimp,

crab, etc. It was the east side of New Orleans and later, after World Ward II

was declared, there was an army base there. Some of Tom’s hometown friends

were stationed there.

I have to admit that New Orleans was strangely laid out. Canal Street ran from

the Mississippi River on the West to Lake Ponchartrain on the East. Then Canal

Street cut the City in half. The uptown side was North and downtown was South.

We lived in the downtown section which was the older and more historical than the

newer and “ritzy” part of the city.

Mere Mestayer had five children, and 23 grandchildren. Aunt Carmen Schimpeler

lived in Louisville, Ky. and had seven children. She would come almost every

summer and stay with us. Some of the kids would stay with other cousins. Tante

Lulu DeGruy had seven children and they lived uptown. They would come visit on

Sunday afternoons, and different cousins would spend a night now and then, and

vice-versa. Uncle Roland and Aunt Alice Mestayer lived at the other corner of the

block, and had four children, all younger than we were, but we would baby-sit them.

I considered the oldest, Bobby, as my child, and Aunt Alice called him my child

always. We were especially close to those cousins, and seemed to see more of

them. They were Leea, Roland and Anne. We are still close to them.

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Sometimes, in the summer, we would visit one of the families across the lake, and

it would take us all day to get there, it seemed. My father thought it was his duty

to take us all for a ride on Sunday afternoon, and I hated it. Thought it was so

boring to ride and see only trees. He had a large car with fold-up seats and we

would have to take turns sitting on them. Sometimes we would ride through City

Park and he would speed up over the only hill in the country -the bridge- and we

would all squeal. I still love going over that little bridge.

I remember the holidays so well. The most looked forward to was Mardi Gras. On

the feast of the Epiphany, which was Jan. 6th, Dick's Nenaine would send us a King

Cake. It was a large cake, not real cake, more like sweet bread shaped like a ring.

It was decorated with little sprinkles or such as that, and it had a little baby in it.

That called for a party and we had all the neighborhood friends over. The person

who got the piece of cake with the baby would have the next King Cake party.

That custom still exists in New Orleans, except the Cakes are more elaborate,

some with frosting and fillings. The office crews often take a cake to the office,

and the person who gets the baby is the one who brings the cake the next day.

That would sort of start the season leading up to Mardi Gras. We would plan on a

costume to wear on that day, but the most fun was going to the parades. The

different Organizations would have a Ball after the Parade and you had to have a

special invitation to get in. It was strictly formal and the men had to wear

Tuxedos and the women long evening gowns. I didn’t go to any until I was older.

There was one every night for about a week before the big Tuesday, the day we all

put on costumes, and masks, and went to the downtown section for the whole day.

We would wait for about an hour for the parade to come, and break our necks to

catch the necklaces and baubles that the people on the floats would throw. My

daddy would have a time making us stay back so the horses wouldn't trample us.

The torchbearers carried kerosene torches that would blaze up and the smell was

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so exciting. We could see the parade from several blocks away when it was

approaching. The crowds were so large, but nothing compared to today. You can't

even park downtown anymore. People rent storefronts where they can watch the

parades and the maskers. When we were older, large groups of people would rent

and decorate flat-bed trucks to ride on and everybody wore the same costume and

mask. There would be so many trucks of maskers and it was fun to see who was

the best dressed and the imagination of costume makers was wonderful. I don't

know if they still do that. My father's favorite parade was the Zulu parade,

composed of all black people. They would dress as Indians with beautiful costumes

and large feathered headpieces. They were scary to us, but he would know some

of the ones on the floats and call to them. They would throw coconuts, and my

father got a big kick out of that.

Christmas was another fun time because all the cousins would come on Christmas

Eve, and we would have eggnog and cake. Mere gave each of her grandchildren a

dollar and on Christmas morning we would each get one nice thing, perhaps a pair of

skates and another gift, such as gloves, etc. I really don't remember anything in

particular. Once I got a Mickey Mouse watch and I really loved it. We would all go

to midnight Mass, we had a decorated tree and had a big meal on Christmas,

turkey, etc. I remember the Oyster Patties more than anything else. They were

delicious!

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On St. Joseph's Day, some of the more affluent Italians would put up an altar in

their homes, and put all sorts of food on it. Cooked dishes, desserts, breads,

sweets and everything you can think of. We didn't know it at the time but it was

to feed the poor people. We would go visit the altars in the neighborhood, and eat

some of the feast. We loved that. Our parents didn’t know we were going to eat (a

snack here and there) but the food was so enticing We were not rich but we didn’t

qualify for the food. They probably thought we were going to pray to St. Joseph.

On Halloween we would have parties where we had a big pan of water with apples

floating in it. We had to duck to get one to eat. That meant we had to bite into an

apple and bring it up before we could keep it. I guess the water was full of spit by

the time ten or so kids put their mouths all over the apples in the water. It made

a mess. Then we had something (I can't remember) hanging from strings we had to

grab with our mouths. We would go around the neighborhood and stick pins in

doorbells, write in chalk on the banquette, try to scare people passing by, leave

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empty wallets tied with a string to let people think they had found something, then

pull the string. We thought that was fun. Today it doesn't sound so great.

On November l, the feast of All Saints,

everybody would go to the cemeteries to visit

the graves of their family members. The

graves would have all been freshly white-

washed and each grave would have fresh

flowers on them. We would see so many people

that we knew and it would be like a big family

reunion. Today hardly anybody goes. It’s sad.

I remember that every Sunday morning my

father would take us to the cemetery to visit

my mother’s grave. He would pick up some

flowers from the Florist and place them on the

step of the tomb. He did that for many years

even after he was remarried. When he moved

to Waveland, he still had the Florist deliver

the flowers and they would bill the Company.

That went on for a few after he died, I am

told. He really loved my mother and never

forgot her.

On Good Friday, when we were in High School, we would try to make a pilgrimage to

nine churches, and walk to each one. There were a lot of churches in New Orleans

because practically everybody was Catholic, (or everybody we knew). It would take

several hours and we would consider that the Stations of the Cross. Almost every

Good Friday there would be a thunderstorm in the afternoon, usually about three

o'clock. We would keep all the radios turned off because we considered it a

solemn day, and we thought it was sacrilegious to have fun. The stores would all be

closed as well as places of entertainment. On Easter, we could put on socks with

our new dresses and we thought we were really dressed up. We were so glad to

get out of stockings.

When my father remarried, I think I was about 12 years old; he built an apartment

in the basement for Olga, Lolita, (her daughter) and himself. He came up to see

his mother every day and he saved all his dimes for her. She had enough dimes to

give each of her female grandchildren a gold rosary when they were confirmed -

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quite an expense. Olga and Lolita

were very nice and we got along well

with them. We never lived with

them. My father was the most

wonderful son to his mother, as were

her other children. And he was a

wonderful father to his children. We

adored him.

I was several years younger than my

brother, Dick, so I don’t remember a lot about him except that he was a good

athlete and played all sports. He also enjoyed fishing and hunting and did a lot of

that. He sometime played hooky and my father would have to ride around the

neighborhood and usually find him playing tennis. One time he went swimming in

the canal near our house and cut his foot on

a large spike sticking out of the cement

wall of the canal. He ended up in the

hospital with a lot of stitches and also

tetanus from that little outing. Of course

no one was supposed to swim in the canals.

They were mostly for drainage. He was

always a sweet brother and had a lot of

friends, both boys and girls. He dated

some of the best-looking girls at Dominican.

When war was declared he joined the Air

Force and was gone for several years.

After that he married Helen Hayes and had three children, Dick, Beth and Allen.

They lived in Waveland and we would see them in the summer when we visited

there.

When we were older we all went to Dominican High school, which was seven miles

away and uptown. We rode the bus to and from school, and the bus fare was .07

cents. It now costs a dollar to ride the bus or one remaining streetcar. It took us

35 minutes to get to school, and we all wore Navy Blue pleated skirts and white

blouses. My grandmother kept them in good repair so they could be handed down.

My sister Sis was something of an upstart so they sent her to boarding school in

Bay St. Louis, Miss. She would sneak smokes with her good friend Lydia, who lived

in the next block and was very spoiled. Sis played the piano by ear and was very

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entertaining to other than her little sisters. She used to sit on the front steps

and every time someone passed by she would make us call her "mother", and she

would spank us if we didn't. I don't think that lasted too long. When Sis got a

little older she bought an old car for $25.00. She named it “Asthma”, and she

would take us for a ride if we paid her a nickel. She would get one gallon of

gasoline at a time. One time she stopped at the filling station and the man

measured her gas in the tank with a long stick. They told her she was riding on

“fumes”. It was so funny. Sis decided to join the WACs and was stationed in

Washington. She refused to go overseas so she drove the officers around in

jeeps, etc. which was right down her alley. She later lived in New York. Then she

married Eddie Means.

Jane was growing up and had a lot of

boyfriends. She and I double-dated a lot and

I guess that was safe for me, as I was very

naïve. We went to dances with dates and not

everybody had a car. When I was a little

older I had a date with one of my brother’s

friends. He was older than I was and after

the dance he invited me to his apartment in

the French Quarter. I went and sat around a

little while and decided I had to go home as it

was getting late. When I told Jane and my

friends about it they were shocked that I

would be so gullible, but nothing happened. So

most young people shared rides to the dances,

etc.

Mere was like a mother to Bessie, as she was

only about 4 months old when my mother died.

Mere spoiled her rotten, although she was

always a sweet child (I think). She was so

pretty and must have been real good because

I don’t remember a lot about her. I really

don't have a vivid memory for details. We were not allowed to date until we were

l6, and I wasn't interested in boys even then. My brother's friend, Ambrose, took

me to my senior prom. Jane worked for Higgins Industries in New Orleans, and

they were the company that made the Landing Boats for the war. It turned into a

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huge plant, and Tom worked there during the war after we were married. She met

Ivan Foley there and the rest is history. They had 13 children. Van, Tim, Nancy,

Al, Robbie, Joe, Mike, Steve, Jeanne, Anita, Pat, Carol, and Richard. A few years

later, Bessie married Jimmy DeBlanc and had six children. Jack, Mary, Suzanne,

David, Anne and Robert.

After high school, I went to a business college, got a job, and went to night school

at Loyola to study Accounting, of all things. The teacher was Father Butts, and was

so nice to me. We even corresponded a little after I left. He let me take my exam

three times until I passed. I then realized my limited potential. One thing I

learned was “always anticipate a loss”. That slogan has stayed in my mind, which

sorta makes you take disappointment a little easier.

I worked for my daddy at the lumber

company one summer. I remember the

Depression. I must have been about ten

years old. Many people lost their jobs.

Money was scarce, which made us

appreciate what we had. When I was out of

school and went to work at the Mestayer

Lumber Company, I made $8.00 a week,

rode the bus home for lunch, (sometimes

got a ride with daddy) and at the end of the

summer I had saved $45.00. You can see

why I am frugal to this day. Then I worked

for the Wage and Hour Division. Mere and

Nantee were so careful in spending my

father's money, we were taught to pinch

pennies. I think I was the only one who

learned that lesson. Today, Aunt Mil would

say that she had, too.

Some of the expressions and names I remember were “Gris-Gris” which was sort

of a hex or bad luck; Another was “Lagniappe” which meant you got an extra one,

like a baker’s dozen; “Neutral Grounds” were space between streets like a median

strip. A big treat for breakfast was “Pain Perdue”, French for lost bread. It is

now called French Toast. They used stale bread to make it. We called Gas

Stations “Filling Stations” I still do. Gas was 12 cents a gallon! They made

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“clabber” from sour milk. They would separate the cream from the milk, and put

the sour milk in cheesecloth to let all the water drain. We would eat it with sugar,

and it was good. From the Cream they would make Cream Cheese (like cottage

cheese) and eat it with fresh cream and sugar. That was a real treat. Sometimes

they made frozen Cream Cheese, and it was like ice cream .

All cooks made a “roux” to make brown gravy or cream sauce. You had to brown

your flour in butter or oil and then add liquid. I still do when I cook. We never

called grown-ups by their first name. They were all Aunt or Uncle. My children

still follow that rule for the most part instead, they call them Mr. or Mrs. All

porches were Galleries. We always had to wait two hours after a meal to go

swimming, the reason was, we were liable to have a cramp in your stomach and

drown! The word “Cajun” is a shortened form of Acadian - the French who settled

in Nova Scotia and moved to Louisiana. They were reportedly considered the only

people strong enough to survive in that area, because it gets so hot and humid.

They also introduced spicy foods. They are famous for Praline Candy. The

“Creole” people were French and Spanish. New Orleans invented the original sub,

and called it “Poor-Boy”. They originated it during the Depression and used long

French bread with meat or cheese on it. They were real cheap. We also had

Nickel Hamburgers that were so good. They were made with a little square roll,

hamburger and chopped cooked onions. There was no Ketchup or Mayonnaise or

other sauce on them. The St. Charles street-car is the oldest operating urban

transit of its kind in the world. It appeared on St. Charles Avenue in 1833. You

could ride for pennies. It is a big tourist attraction and only goes on part of

Carrollton Ave and all of St. Charles Ave. That is the prettiest street in the city.

You could transfer to any other bus and ride all over the city. I think it costs a

dollar now. Street Car buffs are trying to get the street cars back. The buses

have a terrible exhaust smell and are so hard on the streets.

I dated one boy who was a friend of Nantee's, can't even remember his name, and

he became a dentist. And I dated a boy named Walton Mallerich, who was in my

accounting class and was a very good dancer. Then came the big event, which

really, really changed my life. My friends asked me to go on a boat ride on the

Mississippi one Sunday with a friend's roommate. I went and had a great time, and

I was smitten. His name was Tom Covington and was he ever good-looking!!

Everybody fell in love with him. He had moved down to N. O. with B. F Goodrich

Company to sell tires. Our dating consisted mostly of going to a little club out on

the Airline Highway. We would put money in the Jukebox,, drink a beer or two and

17

Dance. Sometime we would go to the

Lakefront to shrimp or just walk along

the seawall, go to the amusement

park, a movie, etc. I remember one

night, I believe it was Christmas Eve,

we double-dated with some friends. I

was learning how to drive Tom’s car,

(which very few boys had then), and I

made a sudden left turn to go over

the Neutral Ground (on which were

the street-car tracks). I didn’t slow

up enough and ran into the wrought-

iron street light with the large oval

light. The car picked it up from the

ground and the light went though the

front windshield. Nobody was hurt,

nobody saw us, so we picked it up and

laid it on the ground and left. Tom

had to keep his car hidden for several months before he could have it repaired.

We didn’t tell anybody, and I mean NObody. That is the only bad thing I did. Then

along came the war, and having been in the Air Force and "washing out" because of

a bad hip, Tom had to do defense work. So he moved to Houma, La., sixty miles

away. We became engaged a year after we met, and were married about six weeks

after our engagement, at St. Leo Rectory. We were not allowed to marry in church

because he was not Catholic. My grandmother had died the week before. But my

aunts did not want us to delay our marriage. We had a small group of close friends

and family so my father had a sit-down luncheon at Broussard's restaurant in the

French Quarter. It was very nice. Things have changed and now non-Catholics may

marry in church. We spent our Wedding Night at the St. Charles Hotel, which was

the oldest one, and finest, and it is no longer there, having gone the way of

Progress. My daddy had a little pull so we were able to stay there. The next

morning he took us to board the train to go to Laurinburg to visit the Covington

family for about a week. Then we moved to Houma, La. when we got back.

This will end the first part of my Journey, so I will try to regroup and try to recall

some of the Blessings of the rest of my Life. Stay with me.