The Spitball Wars

     Capdau Junior High School was filled with many misadventures. In the afternoons usually the fifth or sixth period when the punishment would be lighter, we would start our campaign of spit balling. It would take us a few minutes to ready our shooters which consisted of palmed soda straws from the cafeteria and lots of paper. The paper contained chemicals that cause neurological problems we found out later.

    We started by chewing up paper and forming the spitball in our mouths. We would check for caliber, grading each carefully formed spit ball for continuity. The onslaught would commence as soon as the substitute teacher turned to write on the blackboard.         Substitutes were the most likely to just let it go, so we knew it was spitball day when a substitute showed up.

       We were merciless. Spit balls were stuck everywhere. No one was safe. We used a sawed off version that we could flip back in our mouths to secretly inflict damage on others.

      One of us took a shot at the blackboard. It went splat close to Mr Gillespie.  He knew what was happening but was powerless to stop it. He simply ignored this madness and continued to teach the willing. His classes were very good.  They were all about Louisiana history that most of us already knew growing up in Louisiana. We were just bored and ready for the outdoors. The sweltering classrooms made the class restless.  Our sanctuary was the woods that surrounded the Crescent City.

     My favorite getaway was City Park. This park is huge. It connects the Mississippi River with Lake Ponchatrain as a relief spillway much like the Bonne' Carrie Spillway. It could have been designed as a backup when the River threatened the city.       

     On Saturdays, I'd ride my bike to spend the day tromping through the unexplored Park areas. I was looking for wildlife. The Park holds so much wildlife that escapes the normal eye.

      I once found a injured Sparrow Hawk. She was such a beautiful bird of prey,  I nursed this injured bird feeding it raw hamburger.  I eventually gave it to Frank who was the troop wildlife specialist.
   One cold day, I was on the perimeter with the roadway nearby. A cop was passing by on the typical three wheeled motorcycle. He passed by.  In my haste, I threw him the bird in a spontaneous display of resentment. I thought he could not see me.  He suddenly wheeled around.  I spent a few hours in jail.  My Aunt Marion bailed me out. Respect authority is my suggestion.
     The giant Live Oaks planted by the French Founders of the city are incredible. They were a shipbuilders dream. These giants suffer greatly during the huge storms of hurricane season. Like all life, they recover quickly in these moist environs. 

    In New Orleans there is an unseen population living among these trees. These are the squirrel families of many generations. They love the acorns which the trees produce year round.  If you are fortunate enough to see one, try sitting in perfect stillness so they don't see you. Animals key on movement and the eyes. They are always busy burying acorns. This ensures that a few oak sprouts will grow. One can dig them up and take it to a new home if you know of a place big enough for the tree to grow to full stature. 

   The English and French built their ships from oak. Those trees are no more. An often overlooked reason for the War of 1812 was the English interest in the oak groves along the Mississippi.

       My Dad told me of hunting squirrels with slingshots in these great groves of the huge Parks of New Orleans in the 30's. They hid the little bodies inside a wheel they rolled to hide them from the cops. They stayed put as long as the tire kept rolling but once stopped they would fall out. Thus the incentive was to keep rolling so no one would get the wiser.  Kids do what they can to get away with their petty crimes.

     My Dad came from the Heckmann family. Our Great Grandmother we called Fat Mamare.  She was one hundred per cent French Cajon. The story goes that the family fled Nazi Germany through the Netherlands by ship.  They eventually came to New Orleans and opened shoe stores. 

       I have some famous relatives like Johnny Schumacher, the jockey who won the Kentucky Derby many years ago. The stories go on and on.