Monday, July 17, 2023

The Lazenby's Story - Riverview Part 4

1958

On a very unusually cold 17-degree day in December for Central Louisiana, the Lazenby family moved into another parsonage next door to another church.  This time though there were no good-looking college guys to sweep us off our feet.

Gone were the days of playing in the woods, riding bikes and climbing trees.  There were no longer familiar faces we called aunts, uncles and buddies.  In one day and a moving van, our lives began another wonderful adventure.

We moved to the Riverview Baptist Church outside Alexandria, La on Hwy 1.  It was a congregation similar to the one we had left, without the history.  The folks were very friendly and open and welcomed us immediately.


The church building was an old two-story with steep steps up to the 2nd story front door.  From the picture provided me above, they had obviously enclosed the steps some time later and added siding over the asbestos.  They now have a new relocated church building but this one still stands and the original steps have been uncovered; the parsonage is long gone.



On our first Sunday there, a joint choir with several neighboring churches met at our church to rehearse their upcoming Christmas Cantata. The only thing I remember is walking through the front door and seeing four really cute boys on the back row who looked like they could be my age.  And they were.

Floyd Davis, whose father pastored the Poland Baptist church, Lloyd and Buddy Reynaud, and Donald Ray Byrd ended up being some of our best friends.  Floyd was my first-ever boyfriend and our families spent many Friday nights sharing a meal while our fathers discussed preacher matters.  Floyd and I remained close friends until his death.

There were also several girls in the choir who became my best friends; it's just that they did not catch my immediate attention that first day.

Our house, near the Red River was several miles from the Poland community where we attended school.  For the first time we girls rode a bus to school.  I must admit though that it took us a while to adjust to the early bus schedule so Daddy had to drive us that first semester as much as we took the bus.

These were growing years for all of us.  Gin shared the following: 

"Those were two and a half impressionable years.  I was in mid-year of my 6th grade when we moved to Riverview.  It was my first time to be around new people and new kids I had not grown up with.  We came to love the people quickly, made good friends and were accepted by the people in the community and school.  I was even introduced to the idea of a boyfriend; as Daddy would say, 'idea only'."

"I was also introduced to what would become my love of basketball that lasted throughout high school.  I was especially proud to be selected as the 8th grade Spring Maid in 1961, as Lib had also been chosen when she was an eighth grader.  Mom made my formal out of light blue chiffon to 'match my eyes'."


Yes, these were impressionable years as Gin and I moved into our teens with all the hormones and drama of which girls are capable.

We learned how to use hair rollers instead of the pin curls Mother had always done.  We started shaving our legs and wore bits of toilet paper on the many cuts on our legs until we got the hang of it.  We dealt with acne and dentist chairs and even had a crush on the same boy at one time.  Although Gin was outgrowing me at this time, we were still able to share clothes. We learned to ride horses and we both can testify to the horror of Gin having a very close call with a run-away.

We heavily starched our homemade cotton petticoats on Saturday and by the following Friday they were in desperate need of washing and starching again.  We coveted our friend's pretty full layered net petticoats until we were finally able to purchase our first ones. We wore penny loafers with white socks just like all our friends, but never had a poodle skirt.  We pinned pictures of our favorite movie stars to our bedroom walls and envied their perfect coiffeurs and wardrobes.

Sarah started first grade the fall of 1959 and Gin and I became more involved with leadership roles in activities both at church and school.  I will never forget my 8th grade teacher.  We delighted in watching her eat school lunchroom English Peas with a knife.  She rarely dropped a single one which made me think this wasn't a new occurrence for her.  Some of the boys in our class put a frog in her desk drawer one day and she was not a happy lady.  This probably wasn't the first time for that either.  These were pranks I had never seen before, but somehow assumed she must have deserved them.  She will remain unnamed but was a pretty peculiar character.
 

In 1960, we were a pretty motley crew.  Thankfully at this point, there could only be improvement.  I'll never forget Daddy looking at my school picture (above) and gently suggesting that "next time, you might want to turn to the other side."  I felt turning backwards was the best solution until a lot of dental work could be done.

Sarah shared these Riverview memories:

"It was there I accepted Christ as my Savior and was baptized.  I attended first and second grades at Poland. Because of Daddy's great love for animals, it was during these two years that I learned that I too shared that love, and I still have it. We always had dogs and cats and even tried to save a baby skunk.  A fond memory I have is when we would put pennies and dimes on the railroad track across from our house right before a train arrived.  We would retrieve the flattened coins and Dad would drill a hole in them and put some of them on chains for me."



Mother worked outside the home for the first time, at the Wellans Department Store in Alexandria.  It was the finest store anywhere around and she was over the accessory department.  Before she started that job, I had no idea what "accessories" were.  She enjoyed the work and the extra income, but Daddy had to drive her the ten miles into town every day and pick her up.  That meant that we girls got used to not missing the bus.

Mother's job led to my first ever job in the Wellans gift-wrapping department during the Christmas holidays.  Oh my, was my supervisor strict about those corners and the amount of tape allowed.  The skills she demanded are still paying off.  Once in a while on Saturdays, I enjoyed going to work with Mother, then roaming and exploring the stores and the renowned Hotel Bentley.  Living at Riverview had opened our eyes to "city life" and I liked it.

It was at our church that I sang my first solo, "I Would Love to Tell You What I Think of Jesus."  After that, my friend Judy Herrin became my accompanist and we used our practice sessions as an excuse to spend time together at her house.  Judy was also an excellent basketball and softball player.

My favorite teacher was Mrs. Parker who taught Home Economics and also coached girls' basketball and softball.  I so admired everything about her, especially her French twist hairstyle.  I was determined to one day be classy enough to wear my hair in a French twist as well.


Finally, in the late 1960's I achieved my goal.
 
It was under the teaching and mentoring of Mrs. Ward-Steinman at Poland High School that I developed as a vocalist, if not scholastically.  Both my freshman and sophomore years I went to the Parish Literary Rally and was scored high enough to compete on the state-wide level where I placed 1st in all categories.  It was because of this that I was given a 2-year tuition-free scholarship to LSU.

In my freshman year, Donald Ray "Bubba" to me, and I were voted "Class Favorites" and for some reason I was chosen along with the really deserving boys' basketball player as "Best Sports."  My family and I agreed that it must been because I fouled out faster and better than any other girl on the basketball team.  I also played softball and though not the greatest batter, played a pretty mean center field position.


I was Future Farmers of America (FFA) Sweetheart my sophomore year. It was becoming evident even then, that Gin was going to be the larger of the two of us and by far the better athlete.  Our last year at Poland, we both tried taking piano lessons again and after the first recital, we knew we were better in the sports field than on the piano bench.

Dad was involved in associational and state-wide denominational work while meeting the needs of a faithful congregation, and mother continued to be very involved in state missions and the leader of Girl's Auxiliary (GA) mission program at our church.  Gin and I attended GA Camp both summers we lived at Riverview.  These camps were the first occasion we had had to be away from home by ourselves.  Gin was much more outgoing and adaptable than I was and enjoyed every minute.  I was always glad when it was over.

Gin and Sarah, as well as Mother found their best friends in our church and in the same family.  Miss Edith Stewart and Mother could have been sisters and made an immediate bond.  Her oldest daughter was Kathy who was a year younger than Gin and they loved each other immediately and played middle school basketball together. (See more about Kathy below) Sarah was a year older than Jackie the youngest, and they were together at every opportunity.  There really were some special people at Riverview who had a life-long impact on our lives, for which we will always be grateful.

One special Riverview memory for me was driving the motor on our little fishing boat while Daddy strung and checked his fishing lines carefully placed across the Red River. He taught me to throttle the motor with the exact speed he needed to pull the heavy lines filled with catfish out of the water, then to bait and set them again.  Looking back this could have been a very dangerous experience, but thankfully at the time it only meant spending time with my dad.

Another memory is learning to drive our little Fiat with a standard gearshift. Daddy had me make circle after circle around the church.  He even propped tires against the back of the church to keep me from destroying it and/or the car, but also to teach me to parallel park.  I have always been grateful for his patience in teaching me to be a good defensive driver in spite of my love for speed.

At some point, Dad bought a Pontiac Bonneville Sedan.  It was green and black, and I thought it was the prettiest and definitely the fastest car I had ever seen.  That is until my boyfriend's father bought him a '1960 Chevrolet Impala.  Now that was a cool car.

How about another Beebo story.  Sarah referred to this earlier.  One day Beebo walked up to Daddy with something in her mouth.  When she dropped it, Dad thought it was a kitten but then saw a tiny white streak down its back.  Yes, it was a skunk.  Nothing would do but that we keep it.  Dad built a cage for it but it spent most of its time in the hands of one of us girls.  It stayed on the back porch of our house until Mother decided it was time to release it before it released on us.  That was a sad day, especially for Sarah.


In March of 1960, the final work had been completed on the sanctuary of the Bayou Chicot Calvary Baptist Church and we were invited back for the dedication.  It was a great day to celebrate all God had done through the many years to bring this new building about.  In the picture above is our family including our grandmother Lazenby, and Sarah's three adopted Whittington sisters, Sherry, Jennifer and Darlene.

During this time, Dad was feeling the tug to return to Evangeline Parish.  These had been two and a half good, productive, growing years for all of us.  It was really hard to leave our friends and all that we were part of after such a short time.

God called us to the First Baptist Church in Pine Prairie in the summer of 1961.  It was only a few miles southwest of Bayou Chicot; however, Pine had a more French and Catholic culture than we were accustomed.

Let me close with these personal stories about some of our Riverview friends and why our time there was so special.  It was because of the people!

A few years ago, I attended a Poland Class Reunion with some of my very best friends from there.  Judy, on the lower left, my pianist from years before, reminded me of the many hours we had worked to perfect "The Holy City" for the Christmas program of 1959. I loved that girl.  To the far right are Vera and Yvonne, and to my left is Lynda Lee.  Vera and I still stay in touch.

Behind Judy is Charles Lee and seated in front is Donald Ray. Behind him is Kathy Stewart Holloway, in white.  Let me tell you their story.


Donald Ray, though he never knew it, was my favorite of all the people in my class.  He was, and still is, the most kind, gentle, genuinely good person I had known.  His Aunt Yvonne (seen above) was one of my best friends.  She called him Bubba, so I did too.  By the way, it was Donald Ray who saved Gin on the runaway horse and helped her when she was thrown off it.

Charles Lee told the following story at the reunion.  It was an emotional time as I'd never heard this story, but it also made me so proud to have known these two boys now men.

Donald Ray and Charles had always been best friends and immediately after HS graduation, enlisted in the Army.  They went to basic training together, shipped out together and served in Vietnam side-by-side.

On one fatal day, Charles saw a grenade shatter his friends left leg.  He immediately called for a medic and got help.  Even after all those years he cried when he relived seeing his friend being helicoptered away without him, and not knowing if he would ever see him again.  It was the first time they had ever been apart.

Charles later learned that Donald Ray had survived but had lost his leg.  After being discharged, Donald Ray returned to the Riverview community, married, had a family and has successfully run the family farming business.  After completing his tour of duty, Charles also returned home to Poland and they still spend a lot of time together.

Kathy Stewart Holloway was and still is recognized as an outstanding Poland basketball player.  In 1965 she led Poland High School to the Class C state championship as a senior player.  She was a star on the LSU women's basketball team and after coaching high school teams, was the first female president of the Louisiana High School Coaches Association as well as the National High School Athletic Coaches Association. The NHSACA inducted her into their Hall of Fame in 2012, while she was elected to the LHSAA Hall of Fame in 1998.  She also happened to marry my favorite college professor, Dr. Holloway.

In 2021 the "Kathy Holloway Women of Inspiration Award" was inaugurated as a means of recognizing women in Louisiana who have shown exceptional leadership in women's sports.  I can't think of anyone more deserving to have an award named in their honor than Kathy.  She still lives on her family's land in Riverview and is involved in youth basketball at her church.

Yes, it is the people, not the location that make life rich and memorable.  We will always be grateful to have spent two and a half years at Riverview.

Next Monday I will take you to Pine Prairie and back to Evangeline Parish.


Monday, July 10, 2023

The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 3

Last time, I left you with a story that wasn't very nice and neither was it very Christian.  That is probably why I still remember it so well.  Probably a lot of us have encounters that we would like to have a do-over for.  We can't go back and undo that event with Jerry, but we do know God's forgiveness.  From that experience I have been determined to love others as I know God has loved and forgiven me.  In that respect, I did get a do-over.

Gin and I weren't complete tomboys and mischievous little preacher's kids; we could also be little angels when called for.


Gin did ask for and got a holster and two play pistols for Christmas one year.  I asked for and got a paint-by-number set.  We were both thrilled, but I did secretly wish I had thought about asking for guns instead.

And this is how close we lived to the back of the church.  Told you!

I particularly enjoyed playing dress up and our Aunt Thyra helped feed my fancy for pretty shoes.  Obviously at this point, pattern matching wasn't a big deal but wearing lipstick and a broach on a swimsuit top was.

Being a small community where everyone knew each other - if not related - there was always someone hosting a gathering.  Even though we were not a Cajun community, there were traditions that had been carried down for generations. Mardi Gras, was always the biggest community gathering.  Let me tell you about one.

Early in the morning of Fat Tuesday, always a holiday, the parents met at the school lunch room near our house.  While the parents began cooking salads, rice, gumbos and other Cajun dishes, we kids would get on a trailer pulled by someone's tractor and go throughout the rural community asking for donations.  The routine went something like this:  We would pull up to someone's house and we kids would start singing "Tont', tont' the Mardi Gras, give us a chicken and we'll go home."  This would be repeated over and over while the homeowner went to the yard, got a chicken, rung its neck, put it into a feed sack and gave it to the driver, or give us whatever they could.  Then we went to another country home and repeated the process.  I now realize that it was probably the same people donating every year and were ready for us.  After it was determined we had enough, we would go back to the school where there were pots of hot water ready for plucking and cleaning the chickens before adding them to various pots of roux.

One year, someone had caught a huge logger head turtle that morning and used the meat to make the most delicious turtle sauce piquante.  That was the first and last time I recall eating turtle.  For you non-Louisiana folks sauce piquante is a spicy, tomato-based stew made with any type of meat; the operative word being spicy.

There weren't any floats or parades, no one hollering to be thrown beads and certainly no drunks at our celebrations.  Of course, ours was not the Cajun way of celebrating Mardi Gras, but after all, these folks weren't Cajuns.

In 1955 we went into a building campaign to construct a new church building that would meet the needs of our people and the community. It was a large undertaking that was done in phases and lasted several years.  I am going to tell you more about this church in a future post, but let me give you a bit of information here.

The Calvary Baptist Church was established in 1812 and still is the oldest Baptist Church still in existence west of the Mississippi River.  There was one established earlier further south, but its doors were closed a short time later.


This is the church that was there when we moved to Chicot.  It looked very much as a lot of country churches did in that era except for having the original sills and flooring from the one built in 1845.


Dad did the floor plan and a large part of the actual building of the new church.  The educational unit was first and as money was available the sanctuary was added.  Eventually the old church that had stood in front of our house since 1939 and where both Gin and I had accepted Jesus as our Savior and were baptized was torn down.

Let me share another personal childhood story relating to this.

A large limb on the enormous ancient oak in our back yard is where our rope swing was attached.  We could do all sorts of tricks on that piece of smooth wood tied to the end of the rope.  We were regular acrobats.  It was decided with some of our friends, to create an acrobat performance for our parents.  Since our church was trying to raise funds to complete our new building, we agreed to charge an entrance fee with the proceeds going to the fund.  We may have even envisioned there being a plaque on the wall one day acknowledging our generous contribution.

Each of us worked until we perfected our best trick(s). All the parents showed up and pretended to be aghast at the talent of each performer and paid the ticket charge - maybe 25 cents or whatever the parents could afford. Of course Mother had refreshments afterward and the show was a big success.  Alas, no plaque.

Another tree story but it's mostly a Daddy story:

Our house was surrounded by large oak trees and we loved to climb and pretend.  There was one particular tall tree in the yard that had no low-hanging branches like the others did.  I wanted to climb it but there was nothing to hold on to, so Dad put a ladder against it so I could reach the lowest branch.  Then he created a large disk that he had marked with navigational dials and buttons. He nailed it to the tree trunk above a sturdy limb so it would turn.  He told us "Now you can steer your plane where ever you want to go." It even had a reverse - the first of its kind.  And fly we did!

For complete transparency and because it is still a fun memory for Gin, I am going to share this story.  We had one of those '50's contemporary chairs that had a metal frame with a canvas seat.  It was a favorite chair because we could just curl up in it.

Perhaps it was Gin's turn to sit in it, I don't remember, but she evidently was mad at me.  Now understand I was the older and dominating sister; she was the middle sweet and pleaser child.  Anyway, she crawled around the room unseen and once under the chair, stuck a pin through the cloth and into my behind.  We were never allowed to use the word "butt" so I won't start now, but that's where the pin was embedded.  I do definitely recall the shock, not to mention the pain.  

Of course once Gin got out from under the chair and I recovered, there was a wild bout of chasing and no doubt high pitched screaming around the house until the adults in charge put a stop to it.  It wasn't funny to me for a very long time because it meant I had been had.  But this and one other occasion, let me know Gin was no longer going to put up with her big sister's domination.  Good for her!

In June of 1957, our Lazenby cousins, Jerry and Mike made their first trip to visit us.  We had a great time exploring the woods, playing games and having casting rod competitions.  Mom and Dad had planned a trip to the Gulf Coast in Cameron, La. for the 27th so we could all see a beach for the first time.  Mother had made a huge basket of prepared food to last us for the day.  Little did we know that one of the deadliest hurricanes in U.S. history was headed to the very location we had planned to be on that exact day.  Without the ability to forecast such storms back then, we knew nothing about Hurricane Audrey until it hit the Louisiana coast and quickly moved over us with 125 mph winds and torrential rains. Over 400 lives were lost and millions of dollars of damage done.  Cameron was completely destroyed.

It could have been a very frightening time without power and trees and limbs falling all around us, but Mother and Daddy kept us entertained and well fed from the picnic basket.  I feel sure Mike and Jerry's parents were more alarmed than we were.

We had an interesting story happen during the time immediately following the hurricane that tells you a lot about our parents and especially mother.

Because of the massive flooding as a result of the torrential rains, there were many, many people in our area without a place to live.  Dad and many of the men in our community used their boats for days trying to rescue as many as possible.  Daddy brought home an elderly couple who gave us something to talk about for years.

They were very rural and, let's just say uncouth.  At night we would sit around lanterns and candles because we still had no power, and listen to them talk about their life which was fascinating for us girls.  The problem was, the man dipped snuff and would spit on the floor.  It is probably good to inform you here that our mother was an immaculate housekeeper.  Every time he would spit, Gin and I would look at mother to see her reaction.

We couldn't believe she didn't kick him out of the house the first time it happened.  She sure would have had some stiff discipline for us if we had done something like that.  She did nothing!  Until they went to bed.  Then we saw her disgust and all of us stayed up scrubbing the entire hardwood floor and furniture until it shone and smelled like whatever disinfectant was available in those days.

Thankfully he spent the daytime outside, but the next night she politely handed him a container in which to spit. I'm not sure he had ever had to do this before.  This continued until they were able to return home and it could not have been soon enough for Gin and me.  Just know though that the entire house was cleaned and sterilized from top to bottom the minute they were gone.

This story and oh so many more, tell you about our parent's heart.  They loved people and when they saw a need they did what they could to meet it.  This also meant taking in a local teenage girl who was living in an abusive home.  Ethel lived with us all of her senior year in high school and became our big sister.  She was considered part of our family until her death. Gin and I still think of her with great fondness.

The summer before I entered the eighth grade, I was invited by some friends to a boy/girl party.  I had already attended one where some of the kids played a new game, "Spin-the-Bottle."  This was all new stuff to me, but I had a pretty good feeling that would be the game of choice for this party too.  I also knew there would be dancing, which we did not do.  I chose not to share all of this when I asked permission to attend.  Some things you don't have to tell your parents; they just know.  Needless to say, I was upset at being told I couldn't go and I feel sure there was a bit of drama.  When Dad saw how upset I was, he explained that there were some things young girls just didn't need to do, but if I wanted to dance, he'd be my partner.  He put on a record and waltzed me all around the house because neither of us knew how to jitterbug.  Besides, we didn't have a jitterbug record in the house.  Oh how I loved that man.  That was our daddy.

In 1949, we were emigrants from the northern part of the state.  In 1958, almost ten years later, we belonged to the south central part of Louisiana.  Bayou Chicot had become both home and family and had provided security, freedom to grow and explore in so many ways.  We had not only grown numerically, but bonded as a little family in that safe place.  However, God had more to teach and doors to open.

In December of that year, 1958, Dad accepted the call to pastor Riverview Baptist Church.  It was located north of us and just east of Alexandria, La, in the center of the state.  We moved during the Christmas holidays.  I was in the 8th grade, Gin the sixth, and Sarah yet to start. I will tell you all about that move in the next edition.

Monday, July 3, 2023

The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 2

I last told you that our life in Bayou Chicot was in many ways idyllic.  Today I will share some reasons it was just that, even though it may be difficult for some of you to imagine why I would describe it so after reading this post.  For us girls though, remembering and reliving these experiences hasn't changed our opinion one bit.

In writing this, I have come to see that sometimes it is the most seemingly insignificant incidents at the time, that create the most meaningful memories.


Daddy had plenty of space to garden, an office where he could read and study to his heart's content.  Most of his meditating time though was done outside in his garden.  He had the most prolific gardens with plenty of produce for us and to share.  He had a workshop where he began his love for woodworking.  Some of his projects were done out of necessity, others from sheer enjoyment of doing something creative with his hands.


Dad hunted and fished and shared his faith in the most consistent and unobtrusive manner wherever he went.  Knowing of his standing in the community, Edwin Edwards visited Dad seeking his support for one of the local Democratic candidates.  They hit it off well and in fact, Dad really liked him.  It was later he decided that party wasn't his kind of politics and voted pretty much Republican instead.  Many an Evangeline Parish politician tried to bargain for his support, most to no avail.

Daddy on far left

In 1953, Dad was selected along with four other pastors from across the state to be part of a new Hospital Chaplain training program at the Baptist Hospital in Alexandria.  He excelled in this and was soon offered a position in Baton Rouge as the Chaplain of the largest Baptist Hospital in the state.  After much prayerful and agonizing thought and debate, he turned it down.  He said God had called him to be a country preacher and he didn't think God had changed his mind.

Gin and I sure tried to change it though, but it was of no use.  The decision had been made.  We saw our future as debutants in our state's capitol go down the drain.  In retrospect, we know God was always in control and I can only look at my husband, children, grandchildren and great grandboys to know that He was and still is.

Dad did use the learned counseling skills in ministering to untold people through-out his years of being a pastor.  He never stopped learning and soaked up information like a sponge.

He even learned to use hypnosis but mostly used it on himself.  Once, Dad was cutting tomato stakes on his table saw and one fell onto the blade and deeply speared his side.  He immediately went inside, cleaned the wound and used hypnosis to control the pain and bleeding.  He allowed his body to do what it was designed to do - heal itself.  When I saw him a week later, there was hardly even a scar, and without stitches.

Dad had always been a smoker and when he finally decided to stop, he used this method to quit "cold turkey."  The habit of reaching for his shirt pocket was greater than his desire for a cigarette, so for a while he kept peppermints there.  At one period, Dad suffered greatly with trigeminal neuralgia on the left side of his face.  This condition causes severe, recurrent nerve pain that in his words felt like an electrical shock.  His head would actually jerk.  The suicide rate was extremely high in those days, because there was no known treatment other than risky surgery to cut the nerve.

When Dad was unable to see a doctor for three months because he failed to explain the degree of pain he was in, he used hypnosis to help him forget the pain he had just experienced in order to handle the next nerve shock.  When he did see the neurologist, he was amazed that Dad had endured so long.  He had never heard of what Dad had done, much less that he was able to survive.  Healing, when it takes place, is a mysterious miracle.  Yes, again, God had intervened in providing our Dad the positive attitude based on a deep faith, and ability to maximize the healing process. Through prayer and surrender, together they did what God designed the body to do - take care of itself.

Dad loved music and had collected several records of top hits from the 40's.  Once, he rigged up a loudspeaker and played records for anyone who happened to be close to our house and the church.  Of course, there weren't many, but we all loved hearing "The Girl That I Marry", one of his favorites going out across the empty expanse.  In December we serenaded the countryside with Christmas music.


The Christmas Eve before Sarah turned three, Dad climbed on top of the house and made appropriate reindeer sounds and ended with a hearty "Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas," and we are all still convinced that Santa was really there.

A story our family was finally able to laugh about happened around 1954.  A reporter from the State Baptist Convention Headquarters appeared on our doorstep with camera in hand to interview Daddy about pastoring "The Oldest Baptist Church West of the Mississippi River."  The article and pictures were going to be featured in the State paper, The Baptist Message, that went to every Southern Baptist household in the state.

Dad was polite but less than patient with the man; nevertheless, there is a picture floating out there somewhere that we pray will never reappear, of the most pitiful looking, rag-a-muffin country bunch you have ever seen.  I'm not sure Daddy had his teeth in, mother's hair and makeup for sure wasn't done, and Gin and I had been called in from the woods wearing short shorts and barefooted.  Yours truly's legs were not made for short shorts or a camera and provided proof the nickname "Bean Pole" was more than appropriate.  Of course, Gin always had long gorgeous legs at any age and a sweet smile, so she, adorable two-year old Sarah and Beebo the dog were the only redeeming features of that photograph.  Needless to say, that feature never appeared in The Baptist Message and we give all the glory to God for not embarrassing Himself or us with that one.

Speaking of Beebo; she was a large black lab and our dad's shadow.  She followed Dad's every step and took her role as Assistant Pastor very seriously.  Every Sunday she would take her position at the Church's front door and greet all attenders.  A pat on her head was her greatest reward and a pass for going inside.

Beebo also was Dad's assistant in monitoring the many bird nests around our place.  Dad had Martin Houses and knew exactly how many generations visited each year and when a new generation had hatched.  One day Beebo very carefully scooped up a fallen baby bird with those dangerously strong jaws and brought it to Daddy.  The baby was not even wet.  The birds trusted Dad and allowed him to place all fallen birds back in the nests.  Porter and Beebo made quite a pair.

Dad tried to teach us to play the piano by learning the shape notes in the hymnals of the day.  This wasn't a very successful endeavor and I hate to think of his disappointment with what I'm sure he had dreamed would be talented and smart children.  After that, he and mom drove Gin and me several miles away for a few weeks to be taught "real" piano lessons.  That didn't take well either, so they decided it just wasn't worth spending money they didn't have on that experiment.

However, much to our parents' delight, while serving in another church their teenage daughters were selected as the church "Pianists."  That word is plural because we both played together.  Gin played the treble notes with both hands, and I played the bass with both of mine.  There were no chords, improvising, running scales and certainly no modulations.  Just the notes.  But, for our folks that's all they knew how to sing anyway.  As long we could agree on what to play and the director didn't mind taking our tempo, we did well.  Our favorite offertory was "Wayfaring Stranger," and the congregation heard it often.  Dad joked that he could only afford to pay for us to learn only part of the staff.

From Daddy we learned to love nature and music, but from mother we learned to eventually be ladies.  She had an appreciation for things of beauty and doing things well and right.  I have so appreciated all that she instilled in us during those early years.  She and Mama taught us how to have proper manners (or else), to love reading, sewing, cooking, and even embroidery. The pillowcases on my wedding bed were ones I had done as a child.

The greatest lessons our parents taught us were by example.  They lived lives of faith, kindness, selflessness and unconditional love.  Their great unending love for God and each other are lessons for which we will always be grateful.

Mother made all our clothes until we left home.  We even had embroidery on our little white socks to match our matching dresses.  We also had welcomed hand-me-downs from our older cousins whose mother didn't sew. We were thrilled to actually have "sto-bought" clothes.  It was from one of these cousins that I had my H.S. and college formal and borrowed my wedding dress from the other.  The first time I actually went into a store to buy a dress was for my HS graduation.  When asked about the size, all I knew was the pattern size.  Country girl come to town.

Mother's remodeled kitchen was where she loved to cook and entertain, and always had a pot of Seaport Dark Roast Coffee on the stove.  She was happiest when folks dropped by to just visit, and there was always someone coming and going.

Gin and I spent all our waking moments either riding our bikes, climbing trees or in the woods.  Dad had found some old very cheap Schwinn bikes that he rehabbed for us.  Mine was red and I rode that thing for miles and miles until one day going up an incline, it came apart right in the middle.  That caused quite a fall, but somehow Daddy got us both put back together and my imaginative trips around the world continued.

Mine and Gin's best friends were our exact age, Jonnie and Bit Wolf.  We spent a lot of time together.  Their grandmother, Ma Wolf lived right behind us and who at Jonnie's urging, told me there really wasn't a Santa Claus.  It broke my heart, but I knew Ma Wolf would never lie to me.  She made us both promise that we wouldn't tell Gin and Bit, and to my knowledge we didn't.

Bit still talks about the picnics Mother often planned for us that always consisted of egg salad and Vienna Sausage sandwiches. Most important to her and Jonnie though was that they were included in our family activities.  Gin and Bit are still close, but Jonnie passed away a few years ago.  Bit wrote a comment on a previous blog post:  "My years with the Lazenby family were as near to the tv shows that were so serene. Thanks for stirring up my memory of long-ago days."

Gin and I made hide-outs anywhere we could find a good location, and even created a real "Dodge City" among the fallen trees after a hurricane passed through.  When we weren't playing with Bit and Jonnie, two boys Gin's age were usually with us; however, our company with Roger and Top, came to a temporary end one day.  Gin and I had worked so hard to rake up pine straw to create the outline of our "house" and rooms.  It was quite an architectural marvel.  When the boys found us in the woods, they simply stepped right over the walls with absolutely no regard for the actual entrance.  That did it!  We told them we could no longer be friends.

After that, they delighted in hiding in the loft of a nearby barn and taking BB shots at us.  That didn't last long either because Gin and I had no qualms about being tattle tales.

There was never a large population of Negros living in Chicot while we were there, and there was not much mingling between the two races even though everyone was friendly. The few families Mother and Daddy knew were fine Christian people and we were taught to respect them.

Mother would occasionally have one lady she considered a friend come help her with laundry which was done outdoors in big tubs and then run through a ringer machine and hung out to dry.  Mother would "pay" her with some of our out-grown clothes.  She would sometimes bring one of her daughters who was my age, and we would play in the yard together.

As I'm writing this, I realize Mother didn't really need help with the laundry.  She enjoyed this lady's company and respected her.  By having her over to visit and help, she could show love while also meeting her needs with dignity.  It was also setting an example for us girls whether we knew it at the time or not.  Thank you Mother.

Some Sunday nights after our service we would sit outside and hear the Negros singing and praising from their church not too far away.  We white Baptists sure didn't know how to praise the Lord the way they did.

The following story will come as a contradiction to what I just wrote; many lessons are learned after the fact.

At some point Gin, Roger, Top and I came up with a plan to "clean up our woods." I will not take the blame for this plan, but I will not disavow it either. Please note that we were probably 8-10 years old at this time and definitely knew better.  There was a nice black family who lived on a road behind our house and in order to get to the only grocery/post office/buy-anything store, they had to go through "our" woods.  Usually, the shopper was the son who was about my age,  At some point, someone had nicknamed him "Nigga' Jerry."

For us kids, it was just his name and meant no disrespect. Remember, this was in the mid 50's in the south and even though we didn't even know the word discrimination, much less its meaning, it was alive and well.

Anyway, we decided Jerry had no business going through "our" woods and decided to ambush him and tell him what we thought.  On the anticipated day we were hiding in wait, and just as he approached us we all jumped out; however, before we could make our demands we saw he was carrying a sawed-off shotgun.  The demands were forgotten and it suddenly wasn't important where Jerry decided he wanted to walk.

This was not our proudest moment and certainly not a memory we are proud of, but it was part of life in Bayou Chicot for two Lazenby girls.  Instead of Mother going to the heathens, she may have brought two with her.

Next time I'll tell you more stories about these two heathen preacher's kids in Bayou Chicot.


Wednesday, June 28, 2023

Traveling Backward & Forward on the Hodgepodge


1.  What's one thing you're excited about in the coming month?

Since this Hodgepodge seems to be centered on travel, my answer to this question fits right in.

We will be flying out on July 1 for Northern Indiana to celebrate our great grandson #2's first birthday.  It's hard to believe both of our baby boys are a year old already.


2.  What was your life like when you were ten years old?

I am currently compiling a series of posts about our family and the growing up years.  I hope it will answer questions future generations won't think to ask.  If you'd like to follow along, this is a link to the first post with a link to the 2nd.

We lived in rural South-Central Louisiana in the earliest English Settlement west of the Mississippi River.  I was a tomboy who liked to roam the woods, climb trees, ride my bike, hunt with my daddy, play games and be with my younger sister and friends; also enjoyed playing dress up, writing and painting.  Life was all good.

3.  What's something from your childhood you still enjoy today?

Being creative and the occasional chocolate fudge bar.

4.  What state (that you haven't been to) do you most want to visit?  Tell us why?

We have not traveled to the upper western states but have plans to spend the month of September exploring Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho, then return through New Mexico back to Texas.  We will use the Lewis & Clark Trail as an starting point.  After suffering through the excessive heat here - expected to be over 103 degrees with heat index over 115 today - we are hoping for some more pleasant weather that time of year.

5.  Do you like to drive?  Tell us how you learned to drive.

Yes, I love to drive and am the primary driver in our family.  We laughingly say that when I drive, only one of us has to drive at a time.  My dad taught me to drive and started with a standard transmission.  He was an excellent teacher and stressed preventive driving as much as the basic mechanics of operating a vehicle.

6.  Insert your own random thought here.


LSU beats Florida in Game 3 of Men's College World Series to win national championship


Way to GEAUX LSU Tigers!  What a game you played, but we are most proud of the men of integrity all of you seem to be.