My Father, Me, and a transistor radio

Some great memories for me as a kid was listening to LSU football games on Saturday night. Now, this was back when there was no cable TV, so there was only 3 stations on the TV, and LSU wasn't on TV all that often. However, we had this transistor radio. Through the miracle of the internet, I was able to find an image of the exact radio we had! Amazing.

Each Saturday night we'd listen to LSU football games in our dining room. On these days, my dad's mood was usually good. It was great to be able to sit and listen to the games with him, this little transistor radio sending the signals from all over the southern United States. I have such vivid memories of that radio. Small with a big sound, the crowd noise arriving to our home across the Atchafalaya River Basin. I miracle I often thought. I would imagine being there with the crowd, getting sucked into that little radio into Tiger Stadium on a Saturday night. Over time, that radio had no back and the battery was held in by electrical tape. Hearing the lightning crackle over the airwaves during thunderstorms in south Louisiana echoes through my memory even now!

Occasionally, LSU would be on TV. Usually this game was against Bear Bryant's Alabama Crimson Tide. Back then, that usually spelled a loss! Ugh.

I don't remember all the names of players of the early 70s, but the oldest player I recall was Bert Jones!

It is cool to think that a simple transistor radio would be responsible for the most warming memories of times with my father. A common bond was formed as we sat at that table listening to the game, him telling me of his time at LSU in the early 40s, living in the stadium dorms and cleaning the stadium on Sunday mornings for extra money. No bad memories surface when I think of that radio. As I think of those times now, I really was in that radio. It shielded me from any chaos. During those few Saturday nights in football season, I knew I was getting the "good" dad. There was no guessing the mood, he wasn't away at the bars. He was safe and sound with me and our transistor radio.

Lets talk politics

I don't like to talk politics. I have my opinions like everyone else, but I don't like to get into political discussions with those who I oppose or agree with.

However, I have one thought that struck me that I want to talk about. Both presidential candidates had election evening celebrations. Mr. McCain held his at the exclusive Arizona Biltmore which was NOT open to the public. Mr. Oboma had his in a public park, with ANYONE able to attend.

I think this speaks volumes, at least in my mind. Joe the Plumber was a central figure at one point in this election. Which post election celebration could an average Joe the plumber attend? One party cares about the people. That party extended an invitation to celebrate this election to me, a Joe the Plumber. Thanks for the invitation, I pray that you have success and good health during your time in office.

Kites and Escape

As a kid I loved flying kites. A lot of my memories are flying bat kites (pictured) with friends and relatives. My memories are of peaceful times flying kites in the fields behind the house amongst the young sugar cane plants. Or with my cousin Tommy at his house, our kites on multiple reels of string, so far they are look like a pinhead. Or times battling kites with friends along the Bayou Teche.

As I reflect, I wonder if back then I was consciously escaping my reality? Was I thinking that I wanted to get out the house? Or was I just out to have a little fun?

Regardless of my motives, the end result is that I enjoy digging up the memories of flying kites! Even today, it brings such peace to my mind. They are such vivid memories. I can clearly hear the noises of the kite along with the rustling of the cane leaves in the March Louisiana winds. It is simply great memories of childhood. I am glad my brain was able to keep such crisp and vivid pictures of these moments of my youth for me to enjoy today.

The kite pictured is a Gayla baby bat kite. Simple design. We called it a bat kite and I only just recently found its "official" name. The kite was plastic and by far the most common kite to find flying the skies of St. Martinville. I love the big eyes! The kite is still available today.

C'est finis.

Ron

We interrupt this blog to report:

I just voted!

C'est finis.

Ron

Sugar Cane Plantation

I grew up on a sugar cane plantation. Over time I have grown to understand how unique my younger years on the old Burton Plantation actually was. See, I was an only child. My nearest neighbor was about a quarter of a mile from the house. They were an old black couple, the nicest people you'll ever meet. Since I had no neighborhood kids to play with, obviously I had a lot of solo time.
When I wasn't alone, I was spending time with my mom. She played board games with me. Sorry! was my favorite. Or was it landslide? Maybe during election time I preferred Landslide. She keep me active in sports and scouts. I also spent nights at friends. All was good. You take out the chaos caused by my father's drinking and it was a good childhood. I loved where I lived. I enjoyed my childhood. If the house had been in "livable" condition, I would define it as perfect.
Ok, back to my solo time. I get so scatter brained sometimes! On our immediate property, I had all I needed to enjoy myself. I built farms with my tractors and trucks. I'd feed the chickens and checked the hen house for eggs. There was grass to cut and vegetables to harvest. Flew kites in the spring.

But what I enjoyed the most was playing football! I had a big yard on the side of the house that was my football field. Nice open space with thick soft grass. I'd spend hours playing football by myself. I played alone, of course, and dreamed I was both a high school and LSU football star. I threw to myself. I tackled myself. Heck, I even announced the games. I won and and I lost games. What a great time! As if I was following my favorite team, those games are also very memorable to me know.
Behind the house and across the highway was miles of sugar cane fields. I roamed these fields on a Honda Mini Trail 50 my parents bought for me. I would spend lots of time roaming the cane fields, mostly enjoying the animals which, like me, called this place home. I visited birds in the woods, snakes in the canals, armadillos amongst the open fields in the mornings.
Thinking back today, I am pretty sure the time spent on that little mini bike was my escape from the chaos. What I remember most about riding the cane fields was the freedom I had. It was peaceful. There was no one to yell, no guessing moods, no chaos. Just the wind blowing in my face and the cane stalks watching this little kid enjoy his young life.
I can still feel that freedom!
C'est finis
Ron

This Old House

This is the house I lived in from the time I was 5 until my fathers death in 1982. The picture above is of an original painting that I own. It was done by my childhood friend's mom, Mrs Louise Guidry, who is a very well known south Louisiana artist. It is an excellent painting of the house I lived in. The house sits on the side of the highway on a working sugar cane (known as the Burton Plantation) farm on the outskirts of the town of St. Martinville, Louisiana. St. Martinville is an old Acadiana town that is rich in history. It was a wonderful town to grow up in. Physically, the house in my time was in bad shape. NO air conditioner, no central heating, old tin roof, rats and mice in the attic. Roaches galore. In winter, the wind would could come up through the cracks in the wooden floor. We had a wooden stove and heater for heat in the winter time, along with regular butane heaters in various rooms. In the summer, all we had was fans. Looking back, it was like living in the early 1900s as far as amenities were concerned. The house was surrounded by two large, old live oak trees, quite common in that part of Louisiana. There were also quite a few pecan trees, which provided me a little income during pecan season. All these trees also made for lots leaf raking! We had about an acre of land as our yard, divided up into two parts by a barb wire fence. Originally there were quite a few buildings on the property. In the end, we had two wooden sheds and one small barn. We raised chickens in the early years, and had a large garden behind the house for many years.

Despite the chaos, the house evokes some strong and cherished memories for me. I miss that time.

There is much more to write about this house. For now, I wanted to lay out the physical aspects of the house which is an important factor in my youth.

C'est finis.

Ron

Bedtime thoughts...

I generally don't look forward to going to sleep at night. No matter what kind a day I have had, when the lights go out at night, my mind just goes mad. This phenomenon is relatively new to me. My main thoughts are about why am I who I am. Why am I not a novelist? An actor? An engineer? What do I want to be when I grow up? Why did I not finish college? All these thoughts just flood my mind when the lights go out.

I watched Inside the Actor's Studio with Matt Damon on You Tube last night. He had such a clear idea from a young age what he was going to be in his future. Amazing! He had an idea an idea at a young age and ran with it. It didn't fall into his lap! He set his course with the help of his parents and reached his destination.

Where is my plan? Why did I never had it? How much smarter is Matt Damon than me? Why can't I find my destination? Or start my journey?

These are the type of thoughts that are becoming my bedtime routine. Can I still find my niche in life? Other than a husband and father, what am I going to be when I grow up? Why am I where I am in life? Am I smart enough to write? HELP!

Live in the now.

C'est finis

Ron