HOLY THURSDAY — 1993
The weather was enticingly wet and the sky was grey with overhead clouds as the winds were swirling and the telecasters were pronouncing flash floods. It reminded me of the many times we rushed out to the New Orleans lake front or to the levee in anticipation of the thrusting power of the waters as hurricane warnings would send their messengers with torrential rains in companionship with penetrating gusts.
I am now looking out at the high tide as I face the back waters of my house in Pass Christian. The former tenants had so severely destroyed the house, that I vowed that I would sell it before ever renting it again. However, during the past few years I have repaired and somewhat remodeled it with the thought of regaining house value. I have had it "for sale" for the past six years, but no buyers. To be sure, I only half-heartedly wanted to sell it because I have always known that I would eventually only want to come back and live in something similar as this.
Even now, as I put my thoughts down, I am enchanted by the rippling currents and flowing motions of the bayou. Two doves just alighted on a branch of the pine tree just off to my right. They lit off as I watched them. I admonished the tree for allowing the wind to stir it, causing the birds to fly off before my chance to thoroughly admire them. As I contemplated during my scrutiny, I realized that the lower branches were dead and that the actual tree life was survived by the renewed living of its branches nearer the top. Even though the roots of the pine tree grow deep, the trunk, being alive, has its glory in the new branches and needle clusters more vibrant as they raise to the heavens. The pine cones grow with new zest of life, while the dying branches wait their turn for the winds to strip them away. The strong bursts of blustering winds rock the house a bit as the pilings below hold fast in restraint.
Spring is abundantly here as the leaves emanate from winter's naked twigs. Just last Saturday, a squirrel found a webbing of seeds that I tied to a limb. In watching it, I was reminded of the many little animals that were congregated around our Lake Pontchartrain house. I greatly enjoyed the dogs, ducks, horses, and goats that we collected for the glory of joy. Here, the natural habitat causes fish to jump, sea gulls to assemble, birds, even humming birds, to scuttle from limb to limb. Storks, cranes, egrets, and numerous other fowl spread their feathers over the sky-line. It is stimulating, none the less, to realize that in years past, I could look out from the dining area to see the Kelly house and even to see the Bay. Now, the tree growth curtains away that scenery. From this level I grasp an earthly presence — however, from the third floor, I perch myself on the outer deck to scan the horizon where I capture the arena of the celestial gods.
Since today is Holy Thursday, I recall as a kid, that I made the 9 church visitations with my Aunt Vidalia for several years. But, I have made a different type of visitation for the past 30 years. Yes, you're right, I just came from the "Bat Club." That too, has changed, but I don't fail to make it. Many of the men I first met there are very old or very dead. However, I still enjoy the camaraderie and nostalgia of refurbishing relations with old acquaintances.
My old reliable Cadillac is in for repairs again so I drove in from the city in a rented car. I had hoped to see you but conscious communication with you has not culminated in a continuance that would answer the unsettled feelings that I still carry.
The tide is rising above the wooden ramp that extends out into the bayou. Remember, the Easter morning we awoke to find that the boat I had tied up was sinking because of the tide that came up over-night?
In church services last night a visiting pastor from Chicago, had been serving his ministry in Lima, Peru. I mentioned to him later that we had been there a number of years ago. His message impressed me. He elucidated that when he was younger, his zeal and eagerness caused him to want complete knowledge to heal and to perform in his ministrations to people. He admitted that he had often failed in his progress to achieve what he most earnestly wanted to accomplish. Simply put, he related that another Pastor had taught him that in the beginning, he should not look for a seven layer cake, but should first strive diligently for a doughnut. That in teaching someone to swim, not to throw them in over their head, but to let them learn to wade into the waters. (At this, comment two of my brothers, Eddie and Mario, both, mentally nudged me in remembering how I had thrown them into the lake without support. They learned to swim, however, they didn't learn to like it.)
The Pastor went on to reveal that once he had learned to make the doughnut, then in progression of time he was making seven layer cakes. This was in portrayal of his passion to bring more people to the church, and in saving souls as well as healing persons from their problems. As he became more and more committed, more and more people began to listen.
C C C C C C
; ; ;
Said she, "too much Water under Bridge"
He, caught fright from so much fridge.
More time was wasted
He sometimes got pasted.
Memberin' Wine, Roses n' nose cartilage!
! ! !
There once was a lass from Ohio,
Whose folks brought her to the Bayou.
She and He fell in Love,
Both, as one Turtle dove.
But, the two, done goofed, Oh Me'oh, My'oh.
) ) )
There once was a girl who was flat
She was determined to make em grow fat
Persistent was she
Even he did to he
Dolly Parten had way more than that