Missouri: Happenings On the Road

Sunrise on Highway 179, Missouri. November 2015.

Early one Sunday morning, I started back to South Louisiana from a visit to Missouri.

Here are some things I saw along the way:

An extravagant sunrise in video below on Highway 179, north of Jefferson City, with a cameo appearance by the Missouri River, accompanied by the sexy, bluesy Clifton Chenier waltz, I Am a Farmer (Je Suis en Recolteur):

South of Freeburg on Highway 63, in the video below, some wayward cows took a Sunday stroll along the road. I'm sure a farmer received several phone calls from local drivers-by: "Lloyd, your cows are out again!"

Just north of Rolla, still on Highway 63, was a crash scene that looked deadly: 

Scene of Highway 63 crash.

When I passed by the scene after about a 20-minute wait, I saw the crashed car, horribly mangled. It was a wonder there were no fatalities (which I learned by checking the Missouri State Highway Patrol crash page).

When I drive by such events as a crash or the cows being out, it makes me think about how travelers zoom by live scenes all the time. To us, the scenes are a backdrop to our day's "movie." So often, what are still photos from a traveler's moving landscape, could be life-changing moments to individuals we flash by.

On a bus trip in Ethiopia, from Addis Ababa to Gonder, I saw something I still ponder about. Out the bus window, I viewed several girls and maybe a woman running. They were running to a point our bus had not yet reached. They appeared alarmed.  Presently, our bus passed a man. He was on his knees. Or maybe sitting. I don't remember. But his mouth was open in pain. There was blood. The bus continued. I saw other girls, maybe women, running, alarmed. These women ran toward the man our bus had passed. What happened? Did he heal? Did his injury hurt the family's well-being? Did it look worse than it was? Was it worse than it looked?  

The crash on Highway 63, early on a Sunday morning in November - none of us gets up in the morning and thinks, "today I will be in a crash, and suffer serious injuries." I remember this when I embark on a long trip. I remember not to take safe arrival for granted. To not waste life-moments by revisiting the unchangeable past or projecting into an unknowable future. To pay attention. To seek beauty around me. To feel grateful. This requires work on my part because I am easily distracted by a brain that likes to stir up trouble.

Louisiana: Cane Harvest Begins, and a Song

Harvesting sugar cane. Louisiana. November 2013.

On Saturday morning, on my way to Lafayette, as I listened to KRVS' Saturday morning show, Zydeco Est Pas Sale, the DJ acknowledged the start of the sugar cane harvest. In its honor, he played Clifton Chenier's bluesy waltz, Je Suis en Recolteur (I Am a Farmer).

The words in English:

They call me a cotton picker
They turn around and call me a corn breaker
I'm a cane cutter, oh yes, I'm a cane cutter.

I'm a potato digger.

Ain't no way, ain't no way, baby, you're gonna starve with me around.

I'm a cotton picker, a potato digger
I'm a cane cutter.

Oh, oh yeah, yeah darlin'

I'm a cotton picker
I'm a pecan cutter 
And baby, I'm a potato digger.

But everybody got to know where I'm a farmer
Everything gonna go wrong.
Everything gonna go wrong.
Oh yeah, baby.

Enjoy:

Related links:

Louisiana: Sugar Cane (December 2013)

Jeanerette, Louisiana: The Sweetest Place in Louisiana (January 2014)


 

Loreauville, Louisiana: Clifton Chenier Club

In front-ish: Paul Wiltz, Corey Ledet, Lynn August, Lil Buck Sinegal. Clifton Chenier Club, June 2015.

Anytime I see something related to Loreauville, Louisiana, I feel a little peak of curious energy. The name "Loreauville" is associated in my brain with three things that don't necessarily make rational sense, but the brain does what it does:

1. The word "lurid;" 
2. Dave Robicheaux' references to the Loreauville area as an example of great wealth alongside wide and deep poverty; and
3. The name of a Florida village in an apocalyptic classic, Alas, Babylon, called Pistolville, a marginalized community of Canary Island descendants, kept at arm's length from the Anglo community. (BTW, here is a mini-doc on Canary Island descendants in Louisiana, and here an article.)

Clifton Chenier Club, Loreauville, Louisiana.

The Clifton Chenier Club is outside Loreauville, and the owner (a nephew of Clifton Chenier) was hosting his annual Clifton Chenier Birthday event. I so love how this cavernous club is smack among sugar cane fields. There's a mammoth barbecue alongside:

Clifton Chenier Club, Loreauville, Louisiana.

Mr. Chenier greets you when you walk in:

Clifton Chenier Club, Loreauville, Louisiana.

And looks appreciatively upon all the goings-on within:

Clifton Chenier Club, Loreauville, Louisiana.

Hahahaha, this reminds me of the Fiesta de San Francisco de Paula in Tularosa, New Mexico, when the parishioners carried St. Francis out to the pavilion so he could view the dancing also:

San Francisco de Paula, Tularosa, New Mexico. 

Sadly, there weren't many people who attended the Clifton Chenier Birthday event, possibly because it was on a Saturday afternoon only, plus the admission fee? I don't know. But the music was grand, with many of the musicians having been performers for decades, and a lot of them who played with Mr. Chenier back in the day.

2015 Clifton Chenier Birthday poster. Credit: Clifton Chenier Club.

It's tempting to take some of the musicians in South Louisiana for granted - so easy to forget they travel around the globe, preaching the gospel of zydeco and Cajun / Creole music and culture.

A friend of mine who lives in Toronto had the good fortune to hear zydeco for the first time recently and she used the best word to describe the experience: "infectious."

A slide show of the Clifton Chenier Birthday below:

There were other performers at the event, but I'm practicing with a new (to me) camera, and any other photos I took were miserable.

The club interior is low-lit and cozy even though it's huge. The stage, with its backdrop of Mr. Chenier and jewel-tone purples, golds, and emeralds, glitters. An assemblage of tables and chairs that are reminiscent of church basement halls across the US.  Ample dance floor.

No diet soda, though. I ran into a similar situation at the International Rice Festival in Crowley last year - I could not find a diet soda Any.Where. ... Oh wait, there was a moment in time, early on, apparently, when the vendors had Diet Dr. Pepper. I'd as soon drink from the Bayou Teche.

Louisiana: The Drive to my New Home, Day 1

Nothing much to report about the drive down, although I laughed when I heard this song come on:

The lyrics

A long time ago, yeah
Before you was born, dude
When I was still single
And life was great
I held this job as a traveling salesman
That kept me moving from state to state
Well, I’m standing on the corner of Lafayette
State of Louisiana
Wondering where a city boy could go
To get a little conversation
Drink a little red wine
Catch a little bit of those Cajun girls
Dancing to Zydeco
Along came a young girl
She’s pretty as a prayer book
Sweet as an apple on Christmas day
I said, “Good gracious can this be my luck?
If that’s my prayer book
Lord, let us pray”
Well I’m standing on the corner of Lafayette
State of Louisiana
Wondering what a city boy could do
To get her in a conversation
Drink a little red wine
Dance to the music of Clifton Chenier
The King of the Bayou
‘Ei-toi!
Well, that was your mother
And that was your father
Before you was born dude
When life was great
You are the burden of my generation
I sure do love you
But let’s get that straight
Well, I’m standing on the corner of Lafayette
Across the street from The Public
Heading down to the Lone Star Café
Maybe get a little conversation
Drink a little red wine
Standing in the shadow of Clifton Chenier
Dancing the night away

© 1986 Words and Music by Paul Simon

Here's a Clifton Chenier song on Youtube:





You understand why I had to come to Louisiana, now, right?