Fishing, not Catching

 

My grandfather, J. Berton Daigle, loved to fish. After he retired, he was on the water at least four or five days a week, and fishing was as much a part of his routine as anything else.

 I remember we had several large freezers in an outside building. One was for frozen vegetables and meats, and the other was Berton's. It was always full of fish and bait.

He would take old half-gallon milk cartons, fill them with shrimp and water, and freeze them. Whenever he went fishing, he didn't measure the trip by time. He measured it by how much shrimp he had. If he ran out of shrimp in an hour, he was done. Sometimes it would take three or four hours, depending on whether the fish were biting
or the crabs and hardheads were simply stealing his bait.

One of his favorite places to fish was an area called North Prong. To get there, he would launch his boat from a tiny ditch on Aunt Ozite's property. Aunt Ozite was Grandpa Pierre's oldest sister.

In some places the little ditch was barely wide enough for his 15-foot aluminum boat to pass through. As we made our way through it, I had to sit in the middle of the boat and duck and dodge the trees and bushes hanging over the water. Every now and then, we would have to watch for a wasp nest hidden somewhere in the branches. Just getting to the fishing spot was always an adventure unto itself.

Another place he liked to fish was Lambert Bayou, a small bayou off of Grand Bayou. It was close to the weirs going into Big Lake, and the redfish were usually biting in that area because they loved feeding on the shrimp and shad running thru l through the weirs.

One of my best memories from fishing with him was finding Native American artifacts along the banks of Grand Bayou. We would pull up to an area he called Shell Hill, and I would walk along the shoreline looking for pieces and shards of pottery. Some were pieces of bowls, with small designs and imprints still visible in the clay. I even found a few arrowheads.

I kept a whole collection of them in a box. I always thought that one day I might donate them to an anthropology or archaeological department. Sadly, when Hurricane Rita struck in 2005, those pieces were lost along with so much of southern Cameron Parish.

Looking back now, all those times I spent fishing or running the crab traps with J. Berton are some of my best memories.

J. Berton was a man of few words. We might have been in the boat for two or three hours and barely said a word to each other. But there was never any need to fill the silence. Fishing with him gave me a chance to slow down and simply be there.

I would sit and watch the water, waiting for that little nibble that might turn into a strike. For those few hours, there was nothing else to think about. No worries. No cares. Just the water, the boat, the bait, and the possibility that the next tug on the line might be a fish.

As I have gotten older, I've come to understand something I didn't realize back then. J. Berton didn't always go fishing for the catching. Sometimes, I think he went simply to get away from everything and spend a few quiet hours with his thoughts.

And whether we caught anything or not, I was lucky enough to be there with him.

Pierre Savoie (1898-1987)

Pierre Savoie

B: 7 Aug 1898 

D: 28 Oct 1987

August 7, would have been my great-grandfather Pierre Savoie's 128th birthday.

He was born in 1898 in Creole, Louisiana, the second of ten children born to Camille and Ortense Boudreaux Savoie.

I remember being in my early teens when it suddenly hit me that I actually knew someone who was born in the 1800s. Back then, that seemed almost impossible to wrap my mind around, and I thought it was pretty amazing. Even today, I find it crazy that I've known someone from the last 3 centuries.... 1800s, 1900s, and 2000s.

Grandpa Pierre's first language was Cajun French. He barely spoke English his entire life, and if I remember Granny's stories correctly, I believe he only went to school through the second grade. Somewhere along his life's journey, he lost an eye and wore a prosthetic glass eye for the rest of his life. His remaining eye slowly failed him too, and by the end of his life he was nearly blind.

Pierre lived until my 15th birthday, and I'm grateful I had those years with him.

After school, I'd often stop by his little house just to sit and drink coffee with him and Grandma Cooney. Looking back, I think that's probably where my lifelong love of coffee began.

One thing I'll never forget was Grandpa Pierre's hair. He was bald, but he always had one or two long, scraggly strands standing straight up. I'd sneak into the house as quietly as I could, ease up behind his chair, and give one of those hairs a little tug. Without even turning around, I'd hear him softly say my name.

Even now, nearly 40 years later, I can still hear his old Cajun voice...

"Wil-leee."

Funny how time passes, but some voices never leave you.

Homemade BEER BREAD - Making more dough.

BEER, IT'S NOT JUST FOR DRINKING...

I decided to broaden my bread making skills.

I found a recipe online for Homemade BEER BREAD.

Its simple, easy, and only has 4 ingredients.

12 oz BEER ( I used Lite beer- Any will work)
3 Cups Self Rising Flour
Sugar (To taste.-Recipe called for 1/2 Cup)
1/2 Cup Butter

Thats it. Only four ingredients..

There is no kneading of the dough or having to let it rise 2 or 3 times.

All you do is add the ingredients together, mix it in a bowl, pour it in a pan, and bake at 375* F for 55 minutes.

It came out extra crunchy on the outside and has a sweet, moist inside.

Very DELICIOUS!

Youtube video of me making the bread.

"Fading Memories"

Hurricane Audrey 
 June 27, 1957

National Weather Service picture of Audrey. NOAA

Sixty-one years ago today one of the worst hurricanes to strike the gulf coast had a direct impact not only on the landscape of Cameron Parish and southwest Louisiana, but also on its families.

Hurricane Audrey hit the Cameron Parish coast during the early morning hours of June 27, 1957.

Many people were unprepared for the storm because it arrived 2 days earlier than calculated.

With winds over 125 mph with gust up to 150 mph and waves over 20 foot, the Category 3 hurricane devastated the Cameron Parish coastal communities of Johnson Bayou, Holly Beach, Cameron, Creole, Oak Grove, and Grand Chenier.

Structures were completely destroyed. Houses, Barns, Hotels, Businesses, Schools, Libraries, and Churches.

The destruction forces from Hurricane Audrey reached from Galveston, Texas to Cocodrie, Louisiana. Many small communities like High Island, Texas to Pecan Island, Louisiana were greatly affected.

Along with the physical devastation there was something far worse. DEATH.

The official count of the death toll by Audrey was over 500 lost souls, but it is estimated over 600 perished.

My family knows first hand the force of Audrey. My grandparents Berton and Audrey, their 3 children Warner, Gerald, and Sandy, along with my great-grandfather Pierre Savoie, and my great-uncle Guidry Savoie and his wife Juanita, all rode out Hurricane Audrey from the attic of my grandparents home in Cameron.

Sandy, Audrey, Berton, Warner, and Gerald Daigle

After riding out the storm all day and night, they walked 6 miles to the town of Cameron. They waded through saltwater, mud, marsh grass, dead snakes, fish, cows, horses, alligators, nutria, muskrat, and worst of all, humans.

As they walked this heartbreaking journey, they were able to see first hand the death and destruction that mother nature can bring.

Warner Daigle ,14 years old, in white t-shirt, carrying a body. 

They passed friends, neighbors, and relatives old home sites, with no more homes.

They knew if there were no house then the family that lived there probably drowned.

My grandmother passed her Aunt Tilley's home place with no structure left.

Her Aunt and Grandmother rode out the storm until the house broke apart and floated away. Her Aunt Tilley was rescued 2 days later and 20 miles north, wrapped in barbed wire and clinging to pieces of wood from the house. Her grandmother did not survive.

There are many other stories such as this, from other families who rode out the storm. 

Some are far worse.

In one family, the only survivor was a 12 year old boy. He lost his entire family in one day. His grandparents, parents, brothers and sisters.

There may always be written records of Audrey's winds and water levels and there will be records of the death toll caused by the storm.  Let us never forget the impact the storm had on the lives of our ancestors.

61 years have passed since Audrey in 1957. There are not many first-hand survivors left who rode out the storm. As time marches on, so do the memories fade.

Hurricane Audrey 60 Years Later

Video

May the memory of Audrey's destruction never fade away.

"A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a 

tree without roots." 

~ Marcus Garvey ~