C'est bon...

Louisiana is an interesting place. It's not a place I'd come to just for kicks. Sure it's nice enough, as are the people. But on balance, I don't know that I'd come down here just to hang out, or for a vacay (which I don't take anyway).

All the same, a few observations about life in Louisiana.

1. People don't go outside. To pass some time, I run quite a bit down here. Today, for example, the heat index was 110 or something like that. It's the kind of hot that induces sweat simply by standing outside, shaded or otherwise, enveloped by a sheath of heavy air. And so I find that when I run outside, the good folks down here are so unfamiliar with pedestrians that it's like I'm playing a perpetual game of Frogger, only one that King might write about. Combined with the curious looks, I find myself frequently dancing into the grass along side the roads, so as to avoid the 2000 pound missiles headed my way. What it all comes down to is this: People don't go outside down here, and certainly not to walk or run on the side of the road. It's just too damn not.

2. People lose their hats. Running gives me kind of a ground-level view of things, which I find to be really insightful especially when it's a new place. In Louisiana, people wear a lot of hats and I think many or even most of them eventually gather on the side of the road. Are people riding in cars with their heads sticking out of the window? Certainly not, because that would require opening the car window and losing that air conditioned comfort. In the end, I've no idea where all these hats are coming from. But if you've lost a hat, it's likely on the side of the road in Louisiana.

3. French is a big thing down here. The title of this little diddy - C'est Bon - happens to be an expression I first learned in 8th grade french. Basically translated, depending on how the speaker inflects: It's good (or) Is it good? Driving around the state, there's lots of evidence of the state's francophone roots. But other than street names or the "parish" idea, I didn't give it much thought. Til one evening, out in Cameron, Louisiana, my locally born and raised BP-counterpart-buddy turned to me and said: C'est bon? My reply: What? And so he repeated and then another guy, whom he had never met, echoed the quasi-question-statement: C'est bon....ah I know you're from around here. I then asked my friend for a little help, whereupon he explained about some French language and how that was all his grandmother spoke. People still speak it and it's still present in colloquial expressions used by lots of LA folks each day. Like a culture within a culture.

4. The accent is think and rich and pure bayou, at least how I might imagine it. I think the north has some "country" feel to it in parts. My rural PA friends will appreciate that. Down here does too, but it's a different kind of country. More like bayou country. Most prominent within this bayou country is this really cool "yes I was born and raised here proclamation" that is the Lousiana accent. Slow, ambling, lots of dis and dat and dere (D figures strongly). It's a bit mesmerizing really.

5. If I lived here I'd be the size of a house. People here eat well; I mean really well. But it's the kind of well that will generally limit your shelf life here on the big blue ball. But man does it taste good. Fried everything. Po boys. Etouffe. Jambalaya. I'm a bit concerned to check my cholesterol when I return.

6. Car seats are optional. Remember that 'street level view' I get? Another of its revelations is the number of youngsters I see riding pretty much anywhere in the car. Now, to be fair, infants are in the car seats. But any child that's about a year old and up is free to roam about in the cabin. They seem darn happy about it too.

So it's been fun and interesting and a bit perspective shifting. The reason I'm here sucks, quite frankly. This oil mess is just that, but I'm not really supposed to talk at length about it. I think like most things in life, you've got to look at the positives, and there are many that I've collected thus far on this trip. I've met some good people, decent, hard-working folk who are happy to talk to you about just about anything. I've seen some nice country, pancake-flat and seemingly endless. And I've eaten some good food, maybe even too much. Along the way I learned that I really like hot sauce - especially that Louisiana brand, all syrup-like and not too hot.

But I think most important of all is that I've learned, or maybe re-learned, that I really like being home. So, no offense Louisiana, but I really can't wait to get out of here.

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I think I know what love is now. But I’m not going to pretend to try and write it here. It’s been elusive, I think, for me. Maybe for others too. Being loved, though, hasn’t been elusive. In fact, it’s been there for a while now. And it’s something I should appreciate more.

Like most things for me, it took a moment or an event or something or other for it to all click. Gus, my son, seems to be that click. Not on day one, or day two or day ten. But one of those gradual things that you don’t really know is there til it envelopes you. It’s pretty amazing and pretty wonderful and pretty intense all at the same time. I imagine it’s different for most folks, and that’s ok. So long as you experience your version of it. Now that I’m in the midst of it, I can’t really think of life without it. Funny how you don’t maybe know you’re in the dark if that’s all you know. That is until someone opens up the shades.

Enjoy the day.