Albert

      After our whirlwind trip to the West Coast we moved back into Edna's duplex on 2466 South Caliborne.  This is my step Grandmother we called Mamare who tore up all my childhood photos in a fit of rage. This was because good Catholics did not divorce but soldiered on in a bad marriage. 

        We lived there for awhile.  My half brother Duke and I were almost the same age to the day minus one year. Duke is the favorite of Edna because he is blood related. She fawned over him. Our birthdays were huge affairs celebrated at the same time.         

    This is the essence of Cajuns of French extraction from Quebec. They intermarried with German immigrants.  Read Longfellow to gain insight about the great displacement of French Canadians.

      The big attraction at Mamare's  were all the fruit trees in her backyard.  My Mother began canning pears for the winter. This is where she got her raw ingredients.  The pears were cooked down with sugar then it was figs and mulberries all made by hand.

     Our favorite was the mulberry tree which we would strip bare of fruit consuming as we climbed. May the purple lipped live forever.
     Albert found us play fighting in the backyard. I was winning. In those days, everything was hung on clotheslines propped up by long poles. He chose that moment for a training session for Duke. He took down the poles and gave one to each of us. He then started showing his only son how to defend himself with me as the foil. In effect, I had to fight both of them with this slender pole.  Talk about learn quickly. This was not a game... it was deadly serious. Welcome to the family in New Orleans. I was tilting windmills just like Don Quiote.

     Eventually, Edna came around to accepting us.  The damage was done though.  All one can do is carry on until you can escape. It was another 13 years before I could leave this insanity.  

     It was hard times for us. Albert Jr. eventually became my step father.  I finally got over all the life changes I went through and accepted my Mother's choice in a mate.

    I missed my real Dad so much.  I would cry myself to sleep thinking how betrayed I was not to be with him even though he was a flaming drunk and womanizer with two wives. Alex was still my father no matter what. 

     The Seawall with stairs leading down to the water at Lake Ponchartrain was my favorite retreat. The Mardi Gras fountain is where we would take our dates to watch the submarine races at the Lake. 

   The Westend Marina had a watermelon stand we would go to as a family. These melons were transported by boat from the growers across the lake. All that is gone now. The remains are still there but the vibe has changed.

       I rode the train from Chicago through the swamplands just outside of the Big Easy. This is the original City of New Orleans train that makes its way south through gator country. It pitches back and forth as it rambles on. I saw a huge black gator sunning himself as all cold blooded reptiles do.

      At Lake Mireaux, I saw the skinning of giant catfish. The skinner nails the head to a vertical board after making an incision around the girth. He the grabs the loose skin with two pillars and pulls down strongly.  The skin just peals off.

    This track was the only road during the Civil War. It was captured and recaptured many times. It was used to transport the Confederates to the battlefields with all the equipment that goes with them to the front. 

   Very few realize how important the railroad was to the South. The war brought the South to deaths door.  Nearly every Southern family lost members during the war.