The ghosts on the bayou are my relatives
My mom called and said her two brothers and sister were driving over from Franklinton to take her to lunch – I asked, is it just for grownups or can I come? – her response, if it were just for grownups I wouldn’t go.
So I went to Metairie to meet them and had a delicious fried oyster salad. Yum. Then they all wanted to see my house so we drove back to MidCity and I gave them the grand tour and afterwards we sat outside on this delightfully gorgeous day.
They LOVE the house and say it has Rachel written all over it. Funny, didn’t I just hear that from Moosey? My Uncle John, who is a history buff and shutter bug asked me if I ever get the feeling there are ghosts of my relatives around and I said how’s that? Eight generations ago, my great great great great (don’t know how many greats) grandfather Hugh piloted the large sailboats that took goods off the big boats in the Mississippi and piloted them into the bayou. Kind of cool.
So as we sat there on the porch, soaking up the sun, and watching the rays glistening and dancing off the water, we decided that my backstory is my ancestors have been at the LaLa for eight generations and back in the day (1800s) when the bayou was used for moving goods, my great great great (whatever) grandfather Hugh would pass in front of the LaLa as he brought goods into the city.