We're packing up our sleigh and heading to Coker Creek today.
We are still working in Louisiana, so this won't be a long stay.
We are going to honor Charlie and hear Bluegrass musicians play.
And my little sister Deborah and I have so much we want to say.
I have webbed feet; as a Cajun, I don't do mountains well.
I feel so isolated at night, I feel I've fallen down a well.
It's not that my man doesn't love me and protect me from all beasts;
It's that the forest has many night sounds that I like the least.
We're looking forward to seeing friends who are much less wimpy than I.
They, unlike me, don't see wintry ice and snow and begin to cry.
A nighttime emergency on a snowy night has made me quite mountain-shy,
But the Appalachian Mountain way of life, at least I did try.
I watched a bit too much Dorothy and her Scarecrow and Tin Man;
I know the Wizard of Oz had nothing on the magic of my man.
But what of me without him, all alone in this dark place?
I wish I could handle my phobias with a bit more adult grace.
Will we ever be settled down in one place for life?
I think that's not in the cards for Richard and his wife.
All our losses have convinced me that nothing on earth is lasting
Our destiny may be roving until our own day of passing.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
A Forever Friend
His wife has the great loss;
Will I help or increase the cross
That she ultimately bears alone
Until she reaches the Great Unknown.
His wife is like a sister to me;
It is she that I long to see,
Because words can't properly impart
Such depths of the broken heart.
Will I ever learn that dying
Is not always a time for crying;
That believing in The Hereafter
Should engender laughter?
I think not, as I long to see
The people who are dear to me.
To hear the voice that would say,
"Can you come over to play?"
Charlie welcomed with open arms
And shared his many charms
With all that sought a friend.
Now his party will have no end.
But what about those of us
Who, in The Almighty trust,
But still long for his smile
Like that of a happy child?
Will we still be able share
All Charlie's love and care,
That from him flowed so free,
And in our hearts should be?
Will I help or increase the cross
That she ultimately bears alone
Until she reaches the Great Unknown.
His wife is like a sister to me;
It is she that I long to see,
Because words can't properly impart
Such depths of the broken heart.
Will I ever learn that dying
Is not always a time for crying;
That believing in The Hereafter
Should engender laughter?
I think not, as I long to see
The people who are dear to me.
To hear the voice that would say,
"Can you come over to play?"
Charlie welcomed with open arms
And shared his many charms
With all that sought a friend.
Now his party will have no end.
But what about those of us
Who, in The Almighty trust,
But still long for his smile
Like that of a happy child?
Will we still be able share
All Charlie's love and care,
That from him flowed so free,
And in our hearts should be?
Monday, April 18, 2011
Always Family to Richard and Me
What an honor it was to to spend yesterday's Social Sunday at Tristan's Eagle Scout installation! Richard helped this young man to build his Eagle Scout project -- an electronic bell system and belfry for a seminary. Richard assisted with the carpentry, not the electronics.
This is something I miss when we're in Coker Creek. Most of the people we know there are retirees, and the Coker Creek people we know with children seem to have little need for more parenting partners.I love being part of Richard's involvement with young people. He's never had children of his own, but he is passing on a lot of himself.
Tristan's mother, Terry Sue, is married to my longest lasting best friend's brother. When she was put on bed rest during the time Tristan was "in her oven," my friend called to tell me that Terry Sue had nobody to help prune her prize roses. I volunteered to help, as I had always wanted to know how to care for rose bushes. This blossomed into a wonderful friendship. You could say that Tristan was the catalyst for my friendship with his mom.
Several years later, Terry Sue asked if I'd like to join her and her second son in "enrichment activities," taking my grandson and her second son to the educational venues such as the Audubon Zoo, Louisiana Children's Museum, and The Global Wildlife Center. I gladly accepted, as I was babysitting twice a week for my grandson while my son worked and his wife was in school. This was the first of many outings with these two baby boys.
Whether Richard and I are in Coker Creek or Slidell, Terry Sue's home in Sandestin and both of our homes are now many miles from each other. Our heart strings, however, are long enough to span the distance. Wherever we are, I hope that Terry Sue's family will always be family to Richard and to me.
This is something I miss when we're in Coker Creek. Most of the people we know there are retirees, and the Coker Creek people we know with children seem to have little need for more parenting partners.I love being part of Richard's involvement with young people. He's never had children of his own, but he is passing on a lot of himself.
Tristan's mother, Terry Sue, is married to my longest lasting best friend's brother. When she was put on bed rest during the time Tristan was "in her oven," my friend called to tell me that Terry Sue had nobody to help prune her prize roses. I volunteered to help, as I had always wanted to know how to care for rose bushes. This blossomed into a wonderful friendship. You could say that Tristan was the catalyst for my friendship with his mom.
Several years later, Terry Sue asked if I'd like to join her and her second son in "enrichment activities," taking my grandson and her second son to the educational venues such as the Audubon Zoo, Louisiana Children's Museum, and The Global Wildlife Center. I gladly accepted, as I was babysitting twice a week for my grandson while my son worked and his wife was in school. This was the first of many outings with these two baby boys.
Whether Richard and I are in Coker Creek or Slidell, Terry Sue's home in Sandestin and both of our homes are now many miles from each other. Our heart strings, however, are long enough to span the distance. Wherever we are, I hope that Terry Sue's family will always be family to Richard and to me.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
From Patty Melts to Perfection
Both Richard and I are into gourmet cooking, so we don't go out to eat for the food alone. We want the whole dining experience to be an event to remember.The last few days in Louisiana, we've had some of the most memorable -- in both the good and bad meanings of the word "memorable" -- meals of our recent history. Starting with the wonderful, we lunched at Dick and Jenny's in the Garden District of our beloved New Orleans.
Here I had an unexpected pleasure of pain perdu of duck confit. This translates to a patty melt made with sourdough French bread, Brie cheese, poached duck, pickles, and apple butter, with a side of peach chutney. I liked this variation on a patty melt a little better than I did the Vietnamese influenced version of a pressed pork sandwich I had at the American Sector Restaurant a couple of weeks ago. Both of these similar to the Cuban sandwiches available in areas of the city with large Hispanic populations. In very few cities outside New Orleans would you find so many ways to present a patty melt.
Richard started lunch at Dick and Jenny's with the seafood gumbo -- the closest to mine that I've ever experienced. He followed that with a crab cake lover's dream -- two perfectly prepared patties comprised of lumps of sweet white crab meat barely bound by a bread crumbs, and pan-seared until slightly crispy on the outside. These delectable darlings were then perched atop two finely fried green tomatoes, and topped with a ribbon of red pepper aioli.
I didn't eat all of my lunch, preferring to reach my fork over to taste what was on Rchard's plate. That simply meant we had the remainder of my sandwich and side of warm bacon potato salad for supper the next day. Everything was delightful that day -- the weather, the food, the superb service, and the company of my favorite person in the world.
When my long-lost childhood neighbor Leslie and I went to the warehouse district, we stopped in at Rio Mar for tapas (also called "small plates"). We were hard-pressed to say which of the eight mini dishes we liked best, the mixed seafood seviche or the succulent smoked tuna -- or was it their signature oyster presentation? While the food couldn't have been better, the service was simply sloppy. It's such a shame to have such formidable food and so little respect for the hot, hard work coming out of the kitchen. Sadly, this slovenly service seems not to be an isolated incident.
The evening before this, Richard and I had taken my daughter out to a steakhouse which has long been one of favorite Slidell eateries. We should have known to walk out when our waiter approached our table, introduced himself and waved his arm toward the three other employees in the dining room saying, "We're all taking care of you." Maybe he had never heard that divided responsibility equates to nobody actually being in charge.
Our dining experience was more like a Keystone Cops episode than a fine dining event. We had to flag the waiters down each time we wanted anything even as simple a water refill, and both I and my daughter got the wrong food. It was especially disappointing as this was our daughter's last meal with us -- and she had looked so beautiful in her new outfit from Mexico.
Not to worry, though. Last night we had dining perfection presented to us in the form of supper with four friends at Coquette. The food was as good as any food can be, possibly excluding manna of milk and honey. Hanger steak with mushrooms, caramelized onions, and a potato and bleu cheese "risotto" was sinfully delicious, as were the seared sea scallops on a bed of something made of potato and salt cod called a "brandade." This was accompanied by a roasted tomato relish, identified on the menu as a "tomato confit." The fancy names do add to the ambiance, but aren't always necessary for me to feel like we're having a special occasion.
The fill-them-yourself with both chocolate mousse and caramel sauce cream puffs that we had with our coffee were the perfect finish for the evening's meal. Happily, the service at Coquette was superb and silently attentive. Three hours and thousands of laughs and calories later, all involved pronounced the time together as "perfection."
I'm so happy to have something other than good old gluttony to blame when I pork out. "It must be my new medication." It's also comforting that one of my granddaughters has proclaimed that she will love me up to a thousand pounds.
Here I had an unexpected pleasure of pain perdu of duck confit. This translates to a patty melt made with sourdough French bread, Brie cheese, poached duck, pickles, and apple butter, with a side of peach chutney. I liked this variation on a patty melt a little better than I did the Vietnamese influenced version of a pressed pork sandwich I had at the American Sector Restaurant a couple of weeks ago. Both of these similar to the Cuban sandwiches available in areas of the city with large Hispanic populations. In very few cities outside New Orleans would you find so many ways to present a patty melt.
Richard started lunch at Dick and Jenny's with the seafood gumbo -- the closest to mine that I've ever experienced. He followed that with a crab cake lover's dream -- two perfectly prepared patties comprised of lumps of sweet white crab meat barely bound by a bread crumbs, and pan-seared until slightly crispy on the outside. These delectable darlings were then perched atop two finely fried green tomatoes, and topped with a ribbon of red pepper aioli.
I didn't eat all of my lunch, preferring to reach my fork over to taste what was on Rchard's plate. That simply meant we had the remainder of my sandwich and side of warm bacon potato salad for supper the next day. Everything was delightful that day -- the weather, the food, the superb service, and the company of my favorite person in the world.
When my long-lost childhood neighbor Leslie and I went to the warehouse district, we stopped in at Rio Mar for tapas (also called "small plates"). We were hard-pressed to say which of the eight mini dishes we liked best, the mixed seafood seviche or the succulent smoked tuna -- or was it their signature oyster presentation? While the food couldn't have been better, the service was simply sloppy. It's such a shame to have such formidable food and so little respect for the hot, hard work coming out of the kitchen. Sadly, this slovenly service seems not to be an isolated incident.
The evening before this, Richard and I had taken my daughter out to a steakhouse which has long been one of favorite Slidell eateries. We should have known to walk out when our waiter approached our table, introduced himself and waved his arm toward the three other employees in the dining room saying, "We're all taking care of you." Maybe he had never heard that divided responsibility equates to nobody actually being in charge.
Our dining experience was more like a Keystone Cops episode than a fine dining event. We had to flag the waiters down each time we wanted anything even as simple a water refill, and both I and my daughter got the wrong food. It was especially disappointing as this was our daughter's last meal with us -- and she had looked so beautiful in her new outfit from Mexico.
Not to worry, though. Last night we had dining perfection presented to us in the form of supper with four friends at Coquette. The food was as good as any food can be, possibly excluding manna of milk and honey. Hanger steak with mushrooms, caramelized onions, and a potato and bleu cheese "risotto" was sinfully delicious, as were the seared sea scallops on a bed of something made of potato and salt cod called a "brandade." This was accompanied by a roasted tomato relish, identified on the menu as a "tomato confit." The fancy names do add to the ambiance, but aren't always necessary for me to feel like we're having a special occasion.
The fill-them-yourself with both chocolate mousse and caramel sauce cream puffs that we had with our coffee were the perfect finish for the evening's meal. Happily, the service at Coquette was superb and silently attentive. Three hours and thousands of laughs and calories later, all involved pronounced the time together as "perfection."
I'm so happy to have something other than good old gluttony to blame when I pork out. "It must be my new medication." It's also comforting that one of my granddaughters has proclaimed that she will love me up to a thousand pounds.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
It Ain't Evangeline
I could handle anything when my kids were okay,
When my son went to his dad, I had nothing to say.
He and his daddy weren’t getting along
Was my decision to let my son go so wrong?
My daughter was now college-bound;
This decision seemed to be really sound.
With her cats, she moved to a college town apartment;
Though this wasn’t really my first-choice arrangement.
I constantly worried about her safety;
College kids didn’t seem very safe to me.
She told me to stop my motherly concern;
That she needed freedom, her own lessons to learn.
To my hometown I went, not meaning to stay,
But the man I had married pushed me away.
He closed my business; gave it to the bank;
This wasn’t something for which I gave thanks.
While waiting on results of medical tests
I stayed with a friend that loved me best.
My baby sister called me about then,
Saying she needed me to be her friend.
Another little sister called to say
That she and her baby were in harm’s way.
This sister also wanted me to make peace
With our mother, the person who loved me least.
After doing what I could to get all my “kids” safe;
I attempted to hide at my mother’s place.
My best friend forever from high school
Called to tell me that was against her rules.
She insisted that I was just the one
To get a friend of hers to join her in fun.
So, she introduced me to a single man
For whom she had marriage planned.
I went with him to a hospital dance,
Neither of us expecting a hint of romance.
A man of good humor, he seemed to me;
We made plans for the next night he was free.
We went to dinner where I grilled him
On why he never married, even on a whim.
Thus began quite a series of events,
Including a few peaceful moments.
But peace wasn’t what my life held
He knew this when, for me, he fell.
Often flying high, swinging on stars
To balance the sorrows that had left scars.
We've had more drama than a soap opera brings;
We attract broken people, pets, and things.
We are now bound forever, for good and for bad,
In the most exciting ride we've ever had.
When my son went to his dad, I had nothing to say.
He and his daddy weren’t getting along
Was my decision to let my son go so wrong?
My daughter was now college-bound;
This decision seemed to be really sound.
With her cats, she moved to a college town apartment;
Though this wasn’t really my first-choice arrangement.
I constantly worried about her safety;
College kids didn’t seem very safe to me.
She told me to stop my motherly concern;
That she needed freedom, her own lessons to learn.
To my hometown I went, not meaning to stay,
But the man I had married pushed me away.
He closed my business; gave it to the bank;
This wasn’t something for which I gave thanks.
While waiting on results of medical tests
I stayed with a friend that loved me best.
My baby sister called me about then,
Saying she needed me to be her friend.
Another little sister called to say
That she and her baby were in harm’s way.
This sister also wanted me to make peace
With our mother, the person who loved me least.
After doing what I could to get all my “kids” safe;
I attempted to hide at my mother’s place.
My best friend forever from high school
Called to tell me that was against her rules.
She insisted that I was just the one
To get a friend of hers to join her in fun.
So, she introduced me to a single man
For whom she had marriage planned.
I went with him to a hospital dance,
Neither of us expecting a hint of romance.
A man of good humor, he seemed to me;
We made plans for the next night he was free.
We went to dinner where I grilled him
On why he never married, even on a whim.
Thus began quite a series of events,
Including a few peaceful moments.
But peace wasn’t what my life held
He knew this when, for me, he fell.
Often flying high, swinging on stars
To balance the sorrows that had left scars.
We've had more drama than a soap opera brings;
We attract broken people, pets, and things.
We are now bound forever, for good and for bad,
In the most exciting ride we've ever had.
Monday, April 11, 2011
A Moral Man
The hardest job on earth is parenthood
Because we have to be so very good
But the second toughest is being
The wife of a moral man.
Because we have to be so very good
But the second toughest is being
The wife of a moral man.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Sister of My Soul
I couldn't have asked for a better present for my birthday;
My longest lasting friend came over to my house to play.
She's so busy with healing and making others happy
That we barely ever have time to be just "she and me."
She wanted to take me out, but I wasn't in the mood.
I made lunch; she always likes my way of preparing food.
We had a whole afternoon, just to ourselves;
There was much of our last few years in which to delve.
We had been separated too long, by too many miles,
Longing for the sight of each other's tears and smiles.
Like a sister, I'm a part of her and she's a part of me;
This is a bond from which we will never be truly free.
My longest lasting friend came over to my house to play.
She's so busy with healing and making others happy
That we barely ever have time to be just "she and me."
She wanted to take me out, but I wasn't in the mood.
I made lunch; she always likes my way of preparing food.
We had a whole afternoon, just to ourselves;
There was much of our last few years in which to delve.
We had been separated too long, by too many miles,
Longing for the sight of each other's tears and smiles.
Like a sister, I'm a part of her and she's a part of me;
This is a bond from which we will never be truly free.
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