Humble Beginnings
I was born in Lake Charles, Louisiana.
My great grandfather opened a pharmacy there that later belonged to my grandfather and then my uncle. My grandmother had seven children in Lake Charles. My dad is the oldest of them. He and all his brothers and sisters went to school at St. Louis where they all became the greatest role models a little Cajun girl could ever ask for.
My parents met at McNeese State in Lake Charles. When we were kids, me and my sisters would get super excited to drive over the Lake Chaaaahles bridge, probably for a crawfish boil on the other side or something else like that... because it is a place where all food is celebrated and given some sort of ceremony or ritual to honor its goodness.
I learned the words to ‘Skip to My Lou’ and ‘Kokomo’ in Lake Charles. There is a giant magnolia tree filled with the names of my sisters and our cousins in the front yard of a home that will forever feel like home, but is no longer ours. It is a most important tree. A couple of my cousins, I won’t say who, trespass when they’re in town just to go sit surrounded by its swirling branches. They are harmless. The cousins and the branches, both.
Sometimes it’s the answer to a “Where are you from?” thrown my way because technically it’s true and it makes me feel cool that Lake Charles, Louisiana is one of my answers. And after Hurricane Laura, this became even truer than it has always been.
You see, my grandfather, Robert O., I believe was on the city council when the civic center was built - the civic center that was in almost every picture of the city after the hurricane with its sprinkling of blue windows that used to be so many more. They are a resilient bunch, the Cajun people, and while it is disheartening that they are still rebuilding, it is also a testament to who they are - still rebuilding. Still fighting hard to help the neighbors, still not a’scared of an alligata’, cher! And not a crooked politician either.
I say they, although I know that technically it is we. I went back and forth a few times, and I just can’t claim the kind of struggle that they have had in their hurricanes, in their heat, poverty, and most of all I cannot claim the struggle of the debutant.
I don’t know for sure that I would’ve had to deal with this kind of attention or attention to detail, or crossed legs and cotillions. I can’t imagine how much of my life would have been spent in a ladies’ room trying to make sure that no one would hear my ever-existing, always-rising heartburn escape to reveal how truly unrefined I am. I’m grateful for this one. I am not rude, I am a supernatural woman, and that has nothing to do with commercials for dyed hair, or politeness, or my ability to hold my tongue. Sorry girls for your struggle. I think you are the toughest.
My gigantic Cajun family is one to brag about, and being that our little crew of four were way ahead of the rest of the grandchildren, it was probably very good for us to start with a foundation of feeling like the favorites. When we were born, all of dad’s siblings were still in school. Spanning ten years, these seven, well six of them and also my Aunt Chrissy [from the other side, and equally as important], had their first nieces. And while I was teeny and don’t physically remember, it is in my bones how much they loved us then.
Please don’t misunderstand me, they still love us. And, of course, there wasn’t a moment when it stopped. But this, at the very beginning, when we lived next to them, and they couldn’t wait to come see us, and it was easy to do that all the time… I think this was pretty important to the structure of this building.
Should we listen to some music? I’ve seen Aaron Neville live. In Lake Charles, actually. I went to the show with my dad and a few treasured family friends.
It is incredible what that man can do to your soul with his voice. Incredible.
And look, if you don’t have anything more pressing to do… I mentioned Kokomo, and I need to go to Aruba now.
I remember my Uncle Andre as a teenager trying to teach Nichole and I the words to this song. Sitting on the top of a car that looked just the 80’s, belting out our geography lesson. He’s this kind of cool still.
I’ve seen the Beach Boys in concert. They’ve been doing their job for sixty years, and they are one of the best shows I’ve ever been to. I’ve seen a lot of music, and that has little to do with why I think my opinion counts. If you’re not already in dancing position, you’ll want to get there quick to enjoy this slow vibe.
Okay, couple things here.
1. This is the best video I could find.
2. I think it may be the official music video.
3. That is Uncle Jesse you saw on the drums.
What I think is happening here is that the official music video, which features scenes from Cocktail [the movie that might be the initial reason for “bartending classes,” and I’m laughing now, and I’m sorry if this offends you. I can’t believe you went to school to be a bartender] also features a scene from Full House maybe? Where they performed at a beach vacation with a bunch of other young women, also at the beach.
And that probably wasn’t weird. They already had footage of them singing this song? Although I don’t know for sure if this is true, and I’m not currently interested in digging further into this really unimportant subject. So, maybe none of this is true, and now I’ve said nothing wrong. They’re always watching, you know. I can’t believe you made it this far. Enjoy your day!
