A Heritage That's Slipping Away

Last week my job took me to a small community called LeBleu Settlement where I ran into a guy who grew up in the town where our family farm is.  We got to talking and before you knew it an hour and a half had passed.  I would pay for that long visit later that afternoon trying to catch up with my work, but it was an enjoyable conversation, and it brought back many memories, talking about the old times. 

The gentleman commented that things were so simple back then.  Since Benjamin moved back in with us as he convalesces, we've been watching old episodes of "The Wonder Years" together.  Tonight after we turned off an episode, Benjamin made that same comment.  "Things seemed so simple back then."  Those words, to a nostalgic like me, are like amphetamines to an addict.  I began to reminisce. 

We talked about how all the old folks talked Cajun French when we were young.  My grandfather would wear his Stetson straw cowboy hat and go sit on the porch with a neighbor at the farm named Mr. Roy.  They would drink coffee and talk in French.  Same thing with another guy down the road, Mr. Carrier.  They appreciated the ability to speak it.  See, as kids, when they went to public school, the teachers would punish them for speaking French.  They wanted to get the Cajun out of them.  It was low class, made you appear stupid and besides, everyone needed to become Americans.

Growing up, when we were sitting around the table and my grandma and grandpa's house and they wanted to talk about something private, they would start talking in French.  We didn't have a clue as to what they were saying.  We learned a few vocabulary words (and the cuss words), but mostly, the language is dying out.  My grandma and grandpa spoke it fluently.  My dad understands a bunch of it but doesn't speak it.  I know some vocabulary and a few phrases.  C'est tout.

When I managed the family grocery store, there was a man named Johnny Vidrine who worked there.  On his lunch breaks, he would get a plate lunch from the deli and go sit behind the store under a big oak tree to eat his rice & gravy.  He would bring a little transistor radio with him and would tune in to a station from Eunice, Louisiana that played French music.  I would sit down and listen with him while he ate.  I remember one song he liked called "Blacktop the Gravel Road" by Jackie Caillier.  One day I was sitting with him and he started laughing in the middle of a song.  I said, "What are you laughing at, Johnny?"  He said, "The words to this song."  "What is it talking about?" I inquired.  He said, "Well, the words don't translate just right into English, but the words he's singing says, "Dancing with you is like pulling a sled through some tall grass!"  I laughed until my stomach hurt.

I stumbled across this interesting video on the subject of the Cajun heritage and language.  A lot of it centers around a gentleman who lives about 45 minutes from us.  It explains his resolve to maintain his culture and teach it to his kids.  Click below.  I think its a 16 minute video.

"For me, it's about being like my grandmother, like my grandfather, living the culture."  -Jourdan Thibodeaux

I like that ol' boy.  He's swimming against the stream.  Doing his own thing.  He's comfortable in his skin.  So how do you learn Cajun French if you don't have an old timer nearby to teach you?  Well, there's an app for that!  On your Apple phone in the App Store, search for the LearnCajun App.  It's free.  Here's a newscast from Lafayette that talks about it:

I've been using it a lot lately.  Bon soir, mon amis!

 

2014 Family Excursion - A Monumental Vacation

Some trips are day trips, some trips are longer.  This trip to the Northern frozen prairie to find and learn about our Norwegian roots was of Mammoth proportions!  Literally.  We woke up to temperatures around ZERO and called to check road conditions.  A fresh blanket of snow on the ground had us a bit concerned about our planned itinerary for the day, but alas, snow plows were rolling and sand and salt being broadcast.  We loaded up the bus and my brother's rental vehicle and embarked upon a frozen adventure.

We drove out into the hinterlands, taking the advice of my great uncle (my grandfather, "Poppy's") advice to never let the vehicles get below half a tank.  A supplement to that admonition was that if we run off the road, stay in the vehicle. Do not get out and try to walk.  We heeded the former tip and fortunately, did not need the latter.  We saw buffalo on the side of a hill on the way to Hot Springs.

Hot Springs was where the Mammoth dig was - Check it Out!.  This site that they are currently excavating was discovered on accident when bulldozing for a home site.  Bones were unearthed and an archaeologist was summoned and lo and behold, "Thar's mammoths in them thar hills!"  Our tour guide told us that thousands of years ago a cave collapsed, creating a sinkhole at the surface level. There was a spring that bubbled up warm water and was an attraction for beasts of the day, primarily Columbian mammoths and woolly mammoths.  They would come to drink, get in the water and discover that the embankment is too steep and there's no way out.  I've felt like I was in that predicament a time or two.  Over time sediments washed into the sinkhole, covering the remains. Rinse. Wash. Repeat.

The boys on the trip especially liked this stop and I know from experience that they have embarked upon numerous archaeological digs in their back yards.  One item of interest (or snarky comment) that our tour guide shared with us is that to date they have uncovered 61 mammoths.  They did tests to see the gender of the mammoths and amazingly, they were all male.  Not a single female in the bunch.  She made some inference that the males were stupid.  I didn't like that comment.  Not one bit. Of course everyone knows the females pushed them in.

Diggin' up bones...

We drifted around the lab and exhibits and as all tours do, it ended in the gift shop. I spotted this woman, presumably from the Pleistocene era in full buffalo head regalia.  It looked dually warm and fashionable, but I could not talk cave woman into purchasing it, so we left.

Nanook of the North

Our journey was only beginning, we assembled around our transportation and did headcounts, a necessity when travelling with a roving, nomadic band of 17.  The roads became steep as we got further into the Black Hills.  You would think that they were treacherous (and they probably were) but we prayed to start each day and thought happy thoughts.  Mention of the Donner Party were strictly forbidden.

Ice Road Truckers

We came around a bend in the road, errr, ice trail and saw Mount Rushmore in all her glory, carved into the granite face of the mountain.  This was one of our two monumental outings of the day.

Here are some happy travelers - Benjamin, Laura Lee and Russ hanging with the guys.  There weren't many tourists today.  Hmmm... I wonder why.

We coerced a kind and brave soul to take a panoramic shot of the family.  Note that the heads of stone are in the background - not the foreground.  (Ba dum bum!)

Sonnier's and Fawcett's

Gutzon Borglum carved this masterpiece that took 14 years to complete for a total cost just shy of 1 million dollars and remarkably, no one lost their life in the process. The great men on the mountain are there because they each played a notable role in preserving the nation and expanding its territory.  I really liked this quote from President George Washington.  He's right.  It is an experiment entrusted to the American people and I trust we don't let him down.

Let freedom ring

One very interesting thing I learned while there is that the sculpture requires maintenance.  Cracks and fissures appear in the carvings and they must be filled with a special caulk, linseed oil and then granite dust that causes the cracks to not be noticeable from a distance.  This was a teachable moment.  All of us individually, as a group, as a family, in our marriages, may appear to have it all together.  From a distance, things look good, but we have cracks that must be repaired often to keep the cracks from deepening and ruining the 'masterpiece.'  The fissures can be repaired and healed structurally and cosmetically.  Although healed, the cracks are still there underneath, noticeable if you know what you are looking for - serving as a reminder of our weaknesses and the fact that maintenance is needed in families, friendships and marriages. 

Mrs. Tricia and me at Mount Rushmore

With the sun quickly going down, we motored as swiftly as our team of oxen would travel over the mountain pass to Crazy Horse.  This was truly an inspiration to me. This sculpture began back in 1948 as Chief Standing Bear asked Korczak Ziolkowski to carve a sculpture of the Native Americans' hero, Crazy Horse.  So began a dream that Korczak and his entire family have devoted their lives to. It is not near finished, and although Korczak and his wife both passed away, the family members picked up the torch and carry the dream on.  In fact, a sign emblazoned on the door reminds tourists to "Keep Your Dreams Alive!"

Although it was getting dark, I took the picture below that shows the sculpture as it now stands.  The face is complete and you can make out his outstretched arm.  He stated when asked where his lands were, that "My lands lie where our people's dead are buried."  Two nice lessons here, first on keeping the family together and striving toward a goal or a dream, whatever it might be, regardless of how long it might take to achieve it.  We tend to have short term goals that have an end in sight. Korczak's family carries on a dream that spans generations.  

A little dark, but you can make it out

Another lesson is on the importance that the Native Americans placed on family and the honor and respect that they hold on their elders, learning from them.  If we don't learn from history, we are condemned to repeat it. Even though it is an oft repeated cliche - it is true.

This undertaking is done without a penny of federal or state monies and is supported wholly by the generosity of tourists.  Here is what the sculpture will look like when it is done.  It will be the largest sculpture in the world.

I was also impressed to learn that these tough people, in addition to waking up every morning to blow rocks off a mountain, they also milked their own herd of dairy cows.

At a local Wal Mart we purchased a couple of sleds - a circular one like one on the "Christmas Vacation" movies and another long one with handles.  The boys slid down the hill that they had slid on the previous night in the shopping cart they commandeered.

Whee!

They bored quickly of the tame slope and sought out a steep one on fenced in property adjacent to the hotel.  Wow!  That blur you see on the center left is a member of our crew speeding down the course. I have no doubt that you are looking at the luge team for the next Winter Olympiad.

Tomorrow I'll bring you up to date with the travels as we see one more thing and then slide eastward across the state to visit the old family farm, home site, barn, and one room school house.