In the swamp

Anyone that knows me knows how much I value my family. As an only child, I’m very close to my parents, and as the only “only” in my huge family, I was very close to my cousins growing up, and to all of my aunts and uncles. Moving away from my home state of Louisiana at a young age made it hard to stay close over the years, so I cherish every phone call, email, or visit with my relatives. I was fortunate enough to see both an uncle and an aunt this weekend in DC when they were passing through on business, and of course, there is always some reminiscing.

People who know me also know how much I love my Cajun heritage: with that comes our love of gathering over food, especially boiled seafood. So with that being said, at the risk of embarrassment, I’m going to share a story that I wrote in high school about one of my fondest memories growing up with my family in Louisiana — hanging out at my aunt’s camp on the lake and having a crab boil. The story itself doesn’t represent one particular day, but is more of a conglomeration of memories from over the years. It remains one of my favorite stories I’ve ever written, and when I do get together with my family for a crab or crawfish boil, I’m in my element, and at my happiest. So, please enjoy this little piece of me… lagniappe:

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Cajuns, Crabs, and Comfort

I was on my way home from a friend’s one afternoon, and I was in one of those nostalgic moods, the kind where everything suddenly seems dreamy and sad and I kept thinking about my innocent days as a child. Going forty-five on the road just before my neighborhood, I passed the familiar building which always has the two jet-skis parked out front. Usually I just think, “Oh, I wish I had a jet ski,” and drive on. This time was different. It brought me back to a place I used to go: a place of happiness, of family, and of love.

“Who wants crabs?” Aunt Denny’s rhetorical question rings out from inside the screened porch. Would anyone in this family ever not want crabs?

“MEEeeee!” about fifty people yell, and everyone scrambles to grab a blue plastic tray and a knife. Hot, sticky bodies playfully shove each other as we all try to get the best pick—the biggest, juiciest, reddest crab we can find.  Good-natured teasing and swatting of knives ensue and the POP! of more Coors Lights being opened blends in with the banter of this jovial family.

Lil’ Bo’s voice booms out from the back of the line, “Y’all better not be eatin’ all my crabs, ya hear?” We chuckle and someone makes a wisecrack back at him, leading to the usual round of cat-and-mouse. Speaking from experience, it’s better not to try and argue with Bozie because you won’t win.

Seafood boil

Standing in the line that is moving along quite slowly thanks to some of the kids being pickier than others, I glance around and take in my surroundings. Lake Verret isn’t what some people would call a pretty place, but to me it’s beautiful. Aunt Denny’s old whitewashed camp sits right on the edge of the swampy lake with the cypress trees growing at the back step, and the moss providing the perfect amount of shade. A rickety weathered dock runs out into the lake where the kids jump onto the Sea-Doo and frantically scramble up the ladder when they feel a snake in the murky water. It’s like a scene straight from The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, a book made into a movie about four women growing up in Louisiana. Only this is much better, and it’s real.

“Ready, Jen?” Aunt Denny holds the tongs over the steaming pile of crab, the corn on the cob and spiced potatoes mixed in generously.

“Oh, yeah, any of them are fine, thanks.”  I take my tray with the crabs, grab a cold Coke, and wander back outside to find an open spot to eat. There isn’t much room left considering I was at the end of the line, so I settle on a stump at the edge of the property, ready to dig in. The pounding of knives and cracking of crab claws fills my ears and everyone seems to be shouting at once, just like always. Some of my younger cousins remain in the water shrieking and splashing each other with seaweed. Breaking off the first claw of a boiled crab, I’m happy to see a big chunk of white meat protruding from the end. I always try to break the claws so that the sliver of meat is exposed. This is one of the finer points of eating crab that I learned from my grandfather at an early age.  Slowly pushing the fluffy meat into my mouth, I gingerly pull it out of the claw, savoring the juices it is drenched in. Heaven. No doubt about it, boiled crab is one of the best foods in the world. Tender, light and spicy, it can almost melt in your mouth if cooked properly.

A light but hot breeze blows in my face, pushing my hair back from my moist forehead. The Coke isn’t doing a good job of cooling me off; I’m soaked with sweat. Louisiana humidity is like having a personal sauna at your inconvenience. I watch as my older cousins Richie and Stevie exchange tips on cooking, something at which they both excel. Their sun-browned hands make great stirring motions as they gesture when describing common Cajun-style ingredients. The numerous poodles that my relatives own run freely around us, sniffing at our plates and hoping to get a lick of our fingers. MaMa is sitting on the swing with Aunt Nell, both of them eating and talking at the same time. From time to time Aunt Bernie’s maniacal laugh breaks through the thick layer of moisture that saturates the air. I heave an immense sigh of contentment and wish that we could all stay right here forever.

I slow down as I round the curve on the last stretch before home. Smiling, I recall the atmosphere at the lake and the overwhelming sense of comfort. Everyone looked happy, sounded happy and felt happy. It was a storybook setting being with the people I love in a place I love, just soaking up the moment. Those were the times when I began to realize what family is all about and I wanted to take in as much as I could.  Laughter, teasing, swimming, cold drinks and good food—all ingredients that flavor my family. Although over the years our reunions became fewer in number, each time we got together it was as if no time had passed. We always can pick up right where we left off, continuing a joke from years before or reminiscing about another fun-filled gathering. Even though many of my cousins have families of their own and we are all leading busy lives, we know that we can escape to a place of comfort and affection where we will all be together and have a good time. If there’s love in a family, it’s always crab-eating time.

After weeks of waffling between cold rains and random warm days, it seems like summer is pretty much officially here in DC. We’ve had a stretch of days with temperatures into the 80s, humidity first thing in the morning, and hot breezes into the late evening. Here we go!

Summers hold some of the best memories for people everywhere, whether you get them off, or slog through them with some breaks in between. Summers are chock full of things to do and memories to be made. Here are a few of my favorite summer moments from over the years…what are some of yours?

• Summers in Louisiana: Hot boiled crawfish spilled all over newspapers on the picnic table, and a spearmint snowball in my hand to cool off. Boat rides down the Blind River and jumping in the swamp until I realized that I could die from an alligator or snake bite. Riding my bike into the sugar cane fields with my cousin and then getting an iced treat (pushpop, popsicle or fudgepop) from MaMa’s freezer. Trips to Blue Bayou waterpark.
• Vacations with my parents: Europe in 1996, a Carribbean cruise in 2001, Wrigley Field in 2003.
• Adoption Day: July 3, 2001 (10 years this summer!)
• College summers: News internships in Cincinnati, Springfield, and Columbus, Ohio. Rascal Flatts and James Taylor concerts.
• DC summers: More concerts. Jazz in the park. Colonial Williamsburg. Tiger Woods. Wedding back at my alma mater. Wrigley Field. Two moves. Fireworks. Baseball. Breakup. New friends.

But boy do I love those Saints right now.

For those of you that know a little about me, it makes sense that if I were to root for any NFL team, it would be the Saints. Born in Louisiana, it didn’t matter that I moved to Texas at five, and then Ohio at the age of seven – there was no way I was going to become a Bengals fan. As much of my family are die-hard LSU fans, many are die-hard Saints fans, even when they were the Aints. But for me, a mostly non-fan of the NFL, my Saints’ fandom was sparse, more of a check-in here and there to make sure they were still out there, still kicking. Besides, they don’t really show Saints games in Ohio.

But today, the Saints are playing in the Superbowl. And I am a fan. I am even throwing a party, my first Superbowl party ever, complete with gumbo and king cake. Last year, I fell asleep on the couch during the big game. This year, I will be rooting until the very last seconds, because those Saints have a way of coming back when you least expect it.

Just like the people of New Orleans have since Katrina.

I wasn’t in Louisiana for Katrina, and fortunately, most of my family escaped unscathed, except for some power outages, downed trees, a flooded apartment and drowned car. My family was all safe. But all these years later, not just post-Katrina, but years and years after I left the state that I called home, I still get a tingly feeling thinking about how a football team has brought back the spirit to a city that was drowning, a city that was crying out for help, for someone to save them.

And the Saints came marching in.

When I see my family rallying around this team, when I see the packages on ESPN with Bourbon St. revelers, jazz in the background, Harry Connick Jr. and other NOLA natives choking up over this special moment, it hits me right smack in the middle of my heart. It’s like they say in the movies, with a twist: you can take the girl out of Cajun country, but you can’t take the Cajun out of the girl.

The Saints may win today, and they may lose. Tomorrow, my thoughts may already be on baseball’s spring training and my Cubbies. But for today, I am enthralled by the spirit of the Saints, and the spirit of the people that love them for bringing life back into their city.

Update: The Saints win their first Superbowl!! Who dat!!

This past weekend I went down to good ol’ Lutcher to participate in Relay for Life with the Roussels. This year, we were recognizing several survivors, as well as memorializing family members who have passed from cancer. Importantly, my aunt Rodie is 2 years cancer-free. Her husband, Bozo, recently had a bout with some basal cell on his back, and is now healing. Other family members are doing fine after incidents they’ve had.

As usual, I was glad to spend time with the family down there, and of course, eat all the yummy foods I like. I had my shrimp po-boy, boiled crawfish, and some other goodies. But really, just spending time with my family was most important because of how hard it is to get down there these days. I no longer am guaranteed to attend the Roussel pre-Christmas gift opening in December, and I can’t make all the weddings anymore. With me living in DC, going home to Cincinnati has become priority, and the rest of the year I’m making choices on flights between going home or seeing Dan. This time, I paid a high price, but it was worth it. I don’t know when I’ll see them all again – hopefully not another full year from now.

Despite the many differences between my life and that of my family in Louisiana, I cherish the moments I do get to spend with them. I try to avoid talking politics and some moral issues we differ on. I try to look past some of the small-town thinking that is still prevalent down there, and recognize that we’ve had different experiences. I left the state at 4 years old, and have since lived in three other states. I also have been exposed to a different education, culture, and work life, especially now, with the international development work I am involved with at UNF. In the end, they’re family and that’s what matters.

Now that I’m back at work, things are still busy as we lead up to World Malaria Day, which is Saturday. It’s the busiest time of year at UNF, so things will continue that way until the summer. In other notes, this weekend I’m attending my first Indian wedding, for my friend from my old job. I’m excited to go with all my girlfriends. I know it will be a blast! We’re also going to see our friend Jacqueline’s baby for the first time!

I’m really counting down to June. That’s when Dan comes – and it cannot come any sooner. This will be the first time in awhile that we go so long without seeing each other – it will be 2.5 months by the time June rolls around, from when he was here in May I’m looking forward to all the the things we already have planned – baseball games, a soccer game, probably a concert, and some other stuff. And it’s just nice to have him around every day for a couple of months. Bigger than that, it means he only has one more year of law school left, and we’re that much closer to being together after that. First comes the bar though, I guess. That will be rough. And of course, the Big Question: where will we be in a couple of years? Time will tell…

The Biggest Loser makes me cry. And it makes me want to take action every time I watch it. 5 pounds shouldn’t be THAT hard right?

-sushi for dinner
-my weekly dose of Grey’s Anatomy
-still feeling awesome about my long run yesterday and looking forward to doing it again this weekend
-knowing I have trips to Louisiana and home booked for the next two months
-pepperidge farm white chocolate macadamia nut cookies
-talking to my mom
-a good, long nap

What about you?

This time, when it was time to get out, most people did. This time, people (my family included) added text messaging to their cell phone plans so that even if they couldn’t call, they could send a message to reassure loved ones of their safety. This time, the Saints went marching out well before the storms hit – and no one was allowed to use their home, the Superdome, either.

But this time, despite power outages for more than 800,000 homes, and despite giant oak trees hundreds of years old toppling to the ground like jenga blocks, things are “okay.”

I’m so thankful. Now if only CNN would take heed to Gov. Bobby Jindal’s warning that this is not an overnight process. It’s not over yet. Then why does the top stories list have not one single story about Gustav? Unbelievable.

I am thankful.