I'M PROUD TO BE A CAJUN!

Just what is a Cajun?

That is a very good question! For many years, I've heard or read stories with regard to exactly what a Cajun is. To me, it is many different things. It's something in my heart and soul; it's a special way of life -- a culture that is beyond compare to any other; it's the beautiful Cajun French language; it's the wonderful music -- music that is no doubt the best; it's family & good friends -- a bond so deep that nothing can break it; it's the wonderfully delicious cuisine -- a little bit spicy and oh so scrumptious; it's the beauty of a bayou or swamp; it's sitting on your front porch just relaxing and taking in the beauty of the day or evening; it's sharing your culture with anyone and everyone who will listen; and it's saying "I'm from Louisiana and darn proud of it.", just to name a few.

Recently, an acquaintance and I were chatting through e-mail about our childhoods, and so many truly beautiful memories came pouring through our minds. She said it best when she said that we used our imaginations so much when we were kids. How true!

My brother and I were never upset when it was raining out, cause that meant we would have our own little crawfish ponds up and down our street -- the ditches would fill with water and we'd "crawfish". What fun that was! We were so proud of our fishing attemps. We never could understand why mom wouldn't cook our prize catches, though :-)

Oh, the smell of freshly cut grass is wonderful. I love the first sounds of lawn mowers in the spring time and the smell of cut grass even to this day! As kids, my mom's first cousin had a huge empty lot next door to us, and after a cutting, many of us kids would gather up the cuttings and make "floor plans" with them, and we'd play house. I always loved sitting in my "kitchen"; and that could exlain why I am just about always in my kitchen now :-) I am surprised, though, that none of us involved grew up to become architects *grin* Those floor plans were pretty good :-)

Our moms never liked this imagination game, but we sure had a blast. After a rain and often times even without rain, we'd take our moms' aluminum pie tins and make mud pies....literal mud pies. Hey, to us, it was CHOCOLATE :-) We'd mix them, put them in the pan, and bake them in our pretend ovens. Now, for the parts our moms didn't like....when the pies were done, we'd serve them up and eat them. Yes, it was gross to eat dirt, but we were kids with vivid imaginations *grin* Thankfully, my imagination today isn't so wild :-)

It saddens my heart to hear my kids say things like , "Gee, mom, that was stupid" when I talk of my childhood. Imaginations are a terrible thing to waste, especially since it was such a big part of my childhood; and I fear that my culture will end with me :-(

There are so many fond memories of my childhood -- but I think my most favorite of all was listening to my mom and dad tell stories of their childhoods :-) I remember my dad saying "let's go for a ride" on Sunday morns after church, and we'd take off for parts unknown to us. The whole while, mom and dad would tell us stories as we drove throughout the places they grew up in. That was always such a special treat.

"Treating" is something else that was a big part of my life as a child. I remember being treated myself for various and sundry things, but it always worked!!!! I also remember being told I was a treater..being adopted, I didn't know "my natural father", and I remember people calling for me ,or my brother, to treat their sick child who was suffering with Strep. throat. We'd have to blow in their mouths and pass our left hand over their throat. It worked, too! Whether it was coincidence, faith, or a combination of both, it was a part of the Cajun way.

Something else I fondly remember from childhood is how Cajuns tend to give/have special nicknames -- like my dad who was mainly known as "Sponk", despite most people referring to him as Joe (his middle name of Joseph). His nickname came from when he was a little boy cause he'd goof off making muscles and say "I've got spunk." :-) Despite Sponk or Joe, his mama would always calls him Lawrence (his first name), and I can still hear that beautiful Cajun dialect of hers saying his name, too. My mom is Mary Ellen, and while most people call her Ellen, her godfather, his wife, and their kids call her "Teet Diane". Mom's sister, is Jane Loris, and my aunt Jean....why Jean, I don't know :-) While we were kids, though, she was fondly called "Tee Tante" and she is still referred to as "Teet Chun" by her uncle, his wife, and their kids. While working for an "egg plant", my dad lovingly called her "Chicken". Her husband's name is Lester, but we still call him Uncle TB! One of their sons (and my Holli's godfather) is fondly called B-Ray, though his name is Arthur Ray; and his baby sister is known as Millie, but her name is Merella. My aunt's grandkids called our mawmaw and pawpaw "MaMom Lee" and "PaPop Lee" because pawpaw's name was Willie. My great uncle Sosthene, who gave mom and Aunt Jean those nicknames, was always referred to as "Shorty". On my dad's side, one of his brothers was Louis, Jr. and everyone referred to him as "June or Uncle June" and the same went for his only sister's son, John, Jr. He was "June". I have very fond memories of my dad calling me "sister" all the time, too! I was the "big sister", so when my brother came along (also adopted), "sister" became my dad's name for me! This is also such a big part of the Cajun way of life.

I never realized this until I married a "foreigner" *grin* But, while growing up, I often heard full names being spoken and it meant someone was either in big trouble or an affectionate calling, depending on the tone of the voice doing the calling *grin* I tend to do this all the time when talking to someone or about someone I am fond of. After two years of marriage, my husband pointed out to me that a lot of people around here do that, and he sorta liked it when I called him by his full name. He made a comment that "Nobody had ever called him that before, so this must be a Cajun thing." I never really thought about it before, but maybe that's true :-)

This is one person who is definitely proud to be a Cajun! Years ago, while in "another state that shall remain nameless", I recall being called names because we were from Louisiana. These people actually thought we had web feet! I really didn't know what to make of that! Being from here, and even at the young age of 14, I was SO proud to be a Cajun! I could not understand why others didn't feel the same way. Now I know why! People who don't know the beauty of being a Cajun as a whole cannot fully appreciate it at all! It's really something you must experience, I think, to understand.

And Louisiana is such a beautiful place!! I find that there's nothing like travelling up Interstate 10 through the Atchafalaya Basin area then going through Baton Rouge and on into New Orleans. From here to there is about 200 miles, and I can never get enough of the beauty I see each and every time. I have travelled this state north, south, east, and west many times in my life, and I see beauty everywhere I go...be it in North Louisiana (where I was born in Shreveport), Central Louisiana, South Louisiana (in the heart of Cajun Country where my parents were born and raised), the New Orleans area, the Gulf Coast near Cameron, or right here in Southwest Louisiana. It really IS such a beautiful state -- my home!

The way of life differs just about everywhere a person travels in Louisiana, but I bet they will find at least one common interest among all places.

I found that the recording by the late Johnny Janot really says a lot....

I'm Proud To Be A Cajun!

Yes, I'm proud to be a Cajun because of the way I was raised; and it's a very important part of my life. It is a way of life that is a blend of mystery, love, pride, and tradition. Trying to explain it to someone who knows nothing of the Cajun culture would be difficult. So much of it is carried in one's heart and mind; and it's so hard to put into words. But perhaps a few of these things might help to explain; and it will certainly bring a picture to mind to anyone who has been raised the way I have.

It's watching my grandmother rock in the evenings while the black rosary beards slip through her work-worn hands. It's the sight of acres and acres of lush green rice; and it's the smell of chopped green onions, parsley, and bell pepper in a pot of gumbo simmering. It's watching my mama make the sign of the cross and saying prayers over a sprained ankle or snake bite. They call it treating, and I've seen it work. It's the sound of tires crunching on a gravel road. It's the soft melody of my parents conversing in the age old dialect. It's seeing Nan and Peecat sitting on their front porch and knowing that they will always be there. But one day, they're not; and you realize that something precious is slipping away. It's a wedding dance where money is pinned to the bride's veil and the groom's suit for the privilege of dancing with them. And it's staying up all night at the funeral home because you don't leave the dead by themselves. This is the last thing you can do for them. And it's grown men and women calling their parents mama and daddy and not being ashamed of it. And it's a gigantic feast at Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter. The men eat first so they can nap and the women eat last so they can talk before putting everything away. And it's the sweet sea smell of boiling crawfish and crabs. And it's watching my grandfather, straight and tall, going to the French dances. It's the solemn sound of the big church bell towing once for every life of the loved one passed away. It's watching mama and Aunt Willie stuff long casings with a rich boudin mixture; and it's the sweet smell of strong brewed coffee and homemade bread. It's my daddy working all day in the garden with his back straight as he hoes row after row. It's tombstones shadowed by moss covered oaks, all white-washed and ready for All Saints Day. It's the wonderful sound of Soodie, "will you be my baby's Nanny?"

Yeah, it's kind of hard to explain; but, again, it's a pride and love that I carry in my mind and heart. It's a wonderful race of people, and it makes me sad to see so much of it fading away. I just hope I can preserve enough of it to pass on to my own children; and they, like me, will be proud to be a Cajun; 'cause, after all, Cajuns are tough. We're made of good stuff. Life may be rough; but we're gonna make it, sure enough!

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Thank you, Accordion Man :-)