The Soul of a Librarian

I was only a few seconds old the first time I met a librarian face to face. I’d known who she was for about nine months before, but because it was so dark where I lived, we hadn’t been given a formal introduction.

Then one day it was time for me to move into a place with light, and after a man in a white coat slapped me on my bottom, I was introduced to the librarian and told that she was also my mother. She held me in her arms and smiled at me, and since I was so excited, I began talking as fast and loud as I could. But she shook her head from side to side and then put her forefinger over her lips.

Then she leaned her face a little closer to mine and asked, “Don’t you think it’s time you got a job?”

Not much has changed in the forty years since that first introduction. My mother no longer works in a library, but she will always have the soul of a librarian. She still reads constantly, shelves the books in my room in alphabetical order and tapes the, “Want Ads,” to my mirror.

So this week’s career information search was a special one because my mother and I visited the library in Abbeville. We quickly learned that with additional branches in Kaplan, Gueydan, Erath, Maurice and Delcambre, the Vermilion Parish Library System is no longer a place just to check out the printed word.

In addition to books, the library lends out C.D’s, D.V.D.’s and V.H.S. cassettes. Their onsite resources include databases that provide information on everything from writing a resume to learning a language to researching genealogy. Visitors also have access to free internet and computer usage, and workshops like oil painting and dancing.

“This month we’re taking a virtual field trip to Hawaii,” said Genny Vaughn, Children and Adult Services Manager. “With the use of a web camera, participants will be able to interact with survivors from Pearl Harbor.”

If you have a library card, you can also access some of their resources from your home computer. You can learn a language while lounging in your underwear on the sofa or get help from online tutors in core classes like math and geography (You might want to wear pants to do this).

Vaughn, who is also the young adult librarian in Abbeville, is a lifelong supporter and user of the library. She spent most of her childhood summers with a book in her hand, and her love for reading influenced her career choice.

“I was a book nerd,” she said. “As a kid, a librarian made a big difference in my life. If I can help one child see how important reading is, I’ll feel like I did my job.”

According to Vaughn, the biggest challenge of working at the library is getting youth interested in their programs. She says there is a stereotype that the library is just a place for nerds.

“Awareness is difficult,” says Vaughn. “But that’s part of the fun of this job. We have all of these resources and have to be creative to make people aware of them. Especially parents because their influence and support is necessary in gaining children’s attention.”

Vaughn’s most memorable moment was when she challenged a trouble student to read a book and then give her an oral summary. In exchange, she promised him a library card.

“He didn’t seem interested at first, and I wasn’t if I’d ever see him again,” says Vaughn. “But he came back and told me what the book was about. So I gave him a library card and I see him in here reading all the time. He even shows me his school progress report.”

When I was a child, my mother read to me as often as she could. As I grew older and learned to read by myself, she provided me with stacks of books and encouraged me to finish them all. She, like Vaughn and all other librarians were only doing what their souls told them to do; educate and make a positive difference in a person’s life.

When it was time for me to work a job at the library, I decided to try something a little different. I led my mother behind the counter and then asked one of the associates to show us how to check something out. After our lesson, I ran around to the other side and handed my mother a book.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “Why did you give this to me?”

“I want you to check me out,” I said. “I think it’s time you got a job.”

For more information on the resources of the library, call 337-893-2674 or visit their Web site at www.vermilion.lib.la.us. A twenty-minute visit can change your life.

Strength to Make a Difference

They taught us how to read and write, and where to find Louisiana on a map. They helped us understand the difference between, “May I go to the bathroom?” and “Can I go to the bathroom?” They work long hours on their feet, and have dedicated their lives to educating others. They are the people who found the strength to be teachers.

I recently started teaching writing classes at an elementary school in Lafayette. I enjoy watching the students learn, but by the end of it, I’m exhausted. The constant standing, speaking at an above average volume, and trying to keep the attention of a room full of children, drains me of my energy.

But my sister-in-law, Rhonda Couvillon, seems to take the challenges of being an educator in stride. Over the past twenty-five years she has taught Kindergarten, first, second, fourth and fifth grades. She has a bachelor’s degree in Education, a Masters in Elementary Education, and was named, “Teacher of the Year,” in both elementary and middle school.

“I became a teacher because it seemed like a good career to have when raising a family,” says Rhonda. “I treat my students the same way I want my children, Ross and Taylor, to be treated; with dedication, compassion and understanding.”

According to Rhonda, the biggest challenge for her in teaching is the constant revision of her lesson plan to keep up with technology and the ever-changing world. But she feels that this is important to keep the students interested in learning.

“I run a lot of ideas for teaching off of my own children,” says Rhonda. “If I’m bored writing a lesson plan, I know my class will be bored when I teach it.”

The advice Rhonda would give to new teachers is to be flexible, and to use all avenues to get the point across to students. She suggests taking advantage of teachable moments, even if they are not a part of the lesson plan.

“I try to teach using all learning styles,” says Rhonda. “My philosophy is, ‘Hear it, see it, feel it.’”

One of Rhonda’s most memorable moments as an educator was when she taught a class of first graders, and then years later taught the same kids in fifth grade. She said it allowed her to see their growth and who they were becoming.

“Another memorable moment was when a little girl came up to me and said that another student had called her the, ‘F word,’ says Rhonda. “When I asked her to say the word, she answered, ‘Cow.’

Rhonda says that although her career is difficult at times, she has learned a lot from her students. They taught her to be more patient and accepting of different personalities.

“The best part of teaching is knowing that I’m making a difference,” says Rhonda. “I love it when students tell me stories about what’s going on in their lives. It makes me feel connected with them.”

Rhonda says that if she weren’t a teacher, she’d be a tour guide because she loves to travel. In her spare time, she enjoys reading, exercising and spending time with her family. She says this helps relieve stress from her sometimes hectic days.

“Where do you get the strength to teach?” I asked Rhonda when I interviewed her.

“From my children and my husband, Joey,” Rhonda said. “Your brother is my rock. No matter what kind of day he has had, he is always willing to listen to me. No offense, but I got the best one out of the bunch of you and your brothers.”

It’s Rhonda’s sense of humor and her constant support of my endeavors that makes her one of the best teachers I’ve ever had. Although I never set foot in her classroom, she has always been there to guide me and help me through any challenges I faced. There are many characteristics of a good teacher, but it’s the genuine care and concern my sister-in-law shows towards others that make her a great one.

“I’m not going to argue with you about Joey being the best one,” I said. “I’ll let you take that up with my brothers and the other sister-in-laws. But as strong as you are, I know that you have to get your strength from other places as well. So I’ll re-phrase the question. What motivates you to wake up each morning, get in your car, drive to school and teach?”

“I really enjoy working with the faculty and staff at Rene Rost Middle School,” Rhonda said. “But it’s my students who keep me going back everyday. I know they are waiting for me, and for some I am the only constant thing in their lives. Their needs give me strength.”

Momma of the Day

A few years ago, I was very fortunate to be a nanny for a one-year-old girl named Lea in Lausanne, Switzerland. My good friend and boss, Heather, called me the manny, but the locals called me the papa du jour (father of the day). At first I thought they were calling me a super hero or potato soup. But after the realization of what it takes to care for a child, I figured out what they meant both literally and figuratively.

During the day, I was Lea’s guardian, doctor, chef, hair stylist, photographer and favorite swing pusher. But when her momma walked into the apartment in the late afternoons, I was no longer the papa du jour. I was momma’s friend who slept in the spare room and didn’t know how to put the toilet seat down.

Lea and I would spend our mornings coloring pictures of Elmo, chasing each other around playgrounds, and listening to songs about farm animals. But right after lunch, we’d both yawn and stretch out our arms and then head to our separate rooms for naps. Her excuse for the siesta was that she was a baby, and mine was that I’d spent every second of the previous five hours watching and worrying about a little girl who was just learning to walk and break things.

But Shannon Luquette, momma du jour and owner of Le Bebe Maison takes nannying to the next level without requiring a nap. Her infant childcare center in Abbeville is the result of her imagination and love for children.

“I started the business so I’d have more time with my two girls,” says Luquette. “I love being part of a child’s development and growth.”

Luquette studied early childhood education and has first aid and CPR training. She only cares for children who are from six weeks to one year old. In addition to diaper changes and feedings, her daily routine includes recording the children’s progress with written reports and photographs.


“Leaving your child with another care-giver can be very difficult,” says Luquette. “I take a lot of pictures of the children and email them to the parents during the day.”

According to Luquette, the biggest challenge is when more than one child needs special attention at the same time. To ensure top-quality individualized care, Le Bebe Maison’s ratio of children to adults is always within state guidelines.

“We believe all children are precious and we treat them as though they are our own,” says Luquette. “My most memorable moment was the when the first baby I took care of took her first step.”

Le Bebe Maison is a beautiful craft style house filled with playful art, stimulating toys and kid safe corners and cabinets. The day I visited, swings and infant holders in every size, shape and form lined the walls, and classical music softly filled the air around the sounds of children sleeping, eating, and filling up diapers with little gifts.


My job was to change one of the babies, and Luquette did me a favor by finding one without an upset stomach. I had no doubts in my ability to do the task because of my experience with Lea. But I still felt a little nervous picking up something so small and delicate.

“Thank you for not being a sprayer,” I whispered to the baby as I safely taped the diaper closed.

Right before I stepped out of Le Bebe Maison, I paused a moment to get a final look. Luquette was rocking one of the babies, while two others played on the quilted floor next to her. The children’s parents would be there soon to get them, but until that time, the momma du jour was creating a safe and caring world filled with trust, love and clean baby bottoms.

For more information on Le Bebe Maison call 337-315-0654 or visit their website at www.lebebemaison.vpweb.com.

Strength to Stand Up Strong

They come from out of nowhere; perhaps early in the morning as soon as we open our eyes or on the way to work or even late in the afternoon. We might be forewarned of their arrival, but sometimes they spring up like a jack-in-the-box, leaving us breathless and anxious. They are called, “the wrong side of the bed,” or “one of those days,” and they knock us down to the ground with an overwhelming force. We know they are a part of life, but where do we find the energy to stand back up? Where do we find the strength?

Last summer, my family and I went to Canada for my brother’s wedding. It was a beautiful ceremony filled with celebration, friendship and love. As we welcomed the newest members to the Couvillons, it seemed that nothing could remove the smiles on our faces.

But a couple of days after the ceremony, when I was in a hotel in the Canadian city of Victoria, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I couldn’t pinpoint what had triggered it, but anger and stress punched every inch of my body until it ached with unbearable pain.

I found myself walking through the streets of the city just before the sun rose. It was quiet outside, except for a few seagulls flying around Victoria Harbor and the occasional garbage truck sweeping up trash left over from partygoers from the night before.

But within me, my mind screamed out at the world. I had no idea where I was going, but it seemed that every problem I ever had arose from the air and joined me on my walk. I searched for someone to blame for my bad day’s existence; foolishly thinking that was the answer.

Then I turned down a street, and came upon the slap in the face I needed. It was a homeless shelter, and right in front of its door was an elderly gentleman lying in an awkward position, which looked like he had fallen and couldn’t find the strength to push himself back up. Next to him was another man with bloodshot eyes sitting on a bicycle, and at his feet was a teenage boy on his knees, searching the ground and twitching uncontrollably.

Fear replaced my anger, and I quickly turned around and headed back towards the hotel. But I hadn’t gone far when the man on the bike began following me.

“Sir!” he yelled. “Come back!”

I walked faster, uncertain of what he wanted. I had no money to give him, and wasn’t in the state of mind to face him. But I had no choice because he passed me up on his bike, and then stopped directly in front of me.

My heart pounded as I looked around for somewhere to run or another person to call out to for help. But then the sun rose slightly in the morning sky, and I could see the true cause of this man’s bloodshot eyes; sadness, but strength.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Do you need food or shelter?”

It took me a few seconds to realize that he thought I was homeless. I might have found it humorous under different circumstances, but at that moment all I felt was shame.

“I’m okay,” I said. “But thank you for checking.”

Later that morning I ate breakfast at a restaurant overlooking Victoria Harbor. My body was exhausted and confused about everything that had happened. I felt like the weakest person in the world, but didn’t feel like I had a right.

When the waitress came over with my check, I sat silently and stared straight ahead. She poured me another cup of coffee, and then picked up my empty plate.

“Is everything okay?” she asked. “Can I help you with anything else?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words never came. Instead a single tear rolled down my cheek and fell into my lap. As I wiped its remnants off of my face, I took a deep breath and filled my lungs and mind with the memory of the morning.

“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m just having one of those days. But I’ll be okay.”

I’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed since that day, and know that I will do so in the future. The stress of life guarantees it, but it’s something that I’ve accepted. For I know that the truly wonderful moments like the celebration of my brother’s wedding outweigh those of fear, anxiety and anger.

But most importantly, I realize how fortunate I am for the friends and family who support me through the hard times. I’ve been blessed with strength, and when I forget, I think back to that morning and a phrase that my mother often preaches.

“You complain until you look around. Then you put a piece of tape over your mouth.”

I realize that I’ve made myself vulnerable by sharing this private moment with you. But my goal this year is to promote strength so that we may all be able to face the challenges of life. My hope is that whenever you are knocked down, you will take the time to look around. You may see devastation, but if you look closely, you will also see good fortune, support and love that will help you stand up strong.

The Truth About Tires

I was in high school the first time I ever changed a flat. It was on my grandma’s 1965 Ford Galaxy, and as I jacked it up, my imagination took over and I was on the crew of a Nascar racing team. The tire was changed in under fifteen minutes, and I was filled with pride as I drove off.

But my bubble quickly burst when the car started wobbling like a cow with a hurt leg. I stopped driving, and discovered that I hadn’t screwed a couple of the lug nuts tight enough. Nothing was damaged, but I had failed one of the biggest tests of a farm boy’s life.

It became the truth to me; that I was ignorant when it came to working with my hands. I was the runt of six boys, and would never be as gifted as my older brothers were at changing a tire. All of them could do so flawlessly with their eyes closed, while simultaneously eating a plate lunch, dribbling a basketball and shooting a bird out of the sky.

So for the next several years, fearing that my incompetence might be revealed, I stepped back any time a flat presented itself. This was surprisingly easy to do, because there was always someone else around ready to take care of it. Either they knew of my disgraceful first attempt, or they too were imagining being on a Nascar tire changing crew.

But a couple of weeks ago, I had to face my fear head on. My momma and I had just gotten back from running errands in her car, when I noticed that there was a flat on the back of mine.

“You told me that you used to pick cotton when you were a little girl,” I said to my momma as we stared at the flat. “I don’t guess during that time you learned how to change a tire?”

“We didn’t have a car then,” she said. “I can show you how to change a wagon wheel.”

I thanked my momma for her generous offer, but knew I had to face the flat alone. So for forty-five minutes of self-doubt, I clumsily changed the tire as I thought back to all the times I watched someone else do it. My hands were dirty, my face was sweaty, and I think I swallowed a pebble. But at the end, I changed it.

The next morning my momma and I drove to Kaplan so I could get my flat tire fixed. As she sipped on a soft drink, I tightly held the steering wheel wondering if I’d done everything correctly. My biggest fear was that the spare would fall off and the car would suddenly drop to the ground, causing both shame and my mother’s Diet Cherry Coke to splash all over me.

I made it to Big D and Little F Tire Center successfully, but needed reassurance from a professional that I hadn’t endangered people’s lives. So I confided in a man named Rufus Harrington as he jacked up the car.

“I was a little scared that I put the spare on wrong,” I said. “Did I do everything right?”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t an A+ or a sticker with a smiling face, but I felt proud for getting the seal of approval from him. It inspired me to learn more, and so I revealed my ignorance, and asked him about the best place to put a jack.

“It depends on the car,” he said. “Some of them, like yours, have grooves that the jack fits into. If they don’t, you want to put it under something solid, or it could cause damage.”

I felt smarter when I left, but realized that there was so much more to learn. So a week later, armed with my pad and pencil, I went back to Big D and Little F and interviewed the owner, Davis Harrington.


“The D stands for Davis, and the Little F is for my daughter, Francesca,” says Harrington. “It’s always been my dream to have my own business, so when this opportunity became available, I went for it.”

Started in 2005, Big D and Little F sells both new and used tires. Their services include 24-hour roadside assistance, and repairing, rotating and balancing tires.

“The biggest mistake people make when changing their own tires is starting the lug nuts wrong,” says Harrington. “This can strip the threading on the stud, and it will need to be replaced.”

According to Harrington, the best tire for your automobile is the one suggested in the manual or on the interior of the door. The wrong size or model can negatively affect gas mileage, and cause an inaccurate speed odometer reading.

“You should rotate your tires every 3,000 miles or whenever you get your oil changed,” says Harrington. “People also need to pay attention to their spares. If it’s a small one kept in the trunk, check the air pressure in it every two to three months. If it’s a big one exposed to the outdoor elements like in the bed of a truck, it may dry rot after a few years.”

Rufus Harrington, Davis’ brother, and the man who’d given me the seal of approval on my tire changed, brought my information-gathering interview to the next level. With a machine that looked like the child of a giant pair of pliers and a fancy walnut-cracking device, he showed me how to remove the tire rubber from the rim. Although I can’t explain the process to you, rest assured that unless you have one of these machines, it’s not information you’re going to use too often.

By the end of my visit with the Harrington brothers, confidence had filled me. I would probably never run a tire business or challenge any of my brothers to a competition. But I gained knowledge and something else even more important; the truth that unless you give up trying, you never truly fail.

For more information on the products and services offered by Big D Little F Tire Center, call 337-643-8310. For 24 hour roadside assistance, 337-652-0447.

Strength to Dance Forever

The word, “dance,” is as much a part of our Cajun language and heritage as gumbo, Mardi Gras, and the phrase, “Comment ca va?” Babies learn to cut a rug as soon as they take their first steps, and grandparents proudly showcase their jitterbugging talents anytime a song with a fiddle or accordion plays.

But what if a physical tragedy suddenly stops a person who has danced all their life? Where would they find the courage to get back out on the floor? Where would they find the strength?

Beatrice Bertrand Herbert, an eighty-six year old great grandmother, who started dancing as a child, found herself in this situation about three years ago. When she was leaning over to pick something up off of the floor in her Kaplan home, she fell and broke the ball in one of her hips.

“I didn’t want to stop dancing,” Herbert says. “But my hip hurt so much, I didn’t think I’d ever dance again.”

After her fall, Herbert spent a week in the hospital, where a surgeon replaced the ball in her hip. She went through a rehabilitation program for two weeks, and after about a month was able to walk again.

“I wanted to be active,” Herbert said. “If I would have stayed sitting in that wheelchair, I might not be walking today.”

About six months after Herbert’s fall, her friend, Alex Mire took her to a dance at The Sunset in Kaplan. One of her favorite musician’s, Donnie Broussard, was playing, and Herbert felt it was time to get back on the dance floor.

“I was scared,” she said. “But I found the will power to be the person I am.”

Herbert’s advice to someone who finds his or herself in a wheelchair is to not stay still. We all have the courage inside of us to attempt the challenges we face, even if they seem impossible.

“I always try to do whatever I want,” says Herbert. “If I can’t do it, at least I know I tried.”

While I interviewed Herbert and her friend, Alex Mire, the two of them spoke to each other in French. They seemed to be as Cajun as one could be, but not because they used words like, “chanter,” (to sing) and “danser” (to dance). But because of their sheer toughness, and determination to not let anything stand in the way from living life.

It’s an aspect of my own heritage for which I am very proud, but sometimes forget. Mire and Herbert reminded me that even I, a forever wimpy kid, shouldn’t let what may seem as obstacles prevent me from using the physical and mental strength given to me by my parents, and the brave men and women who first created their own world in Louisiana.

“Where did you find the strength to have that first dance with Mr. Mire?” I asked Herbert.

“Love,” she replied. “It will keep me dancing until the day I die.”

The Other Jacques

I always feel a little uneasy walking through the front door of a funeral home. The thought of someone’s death suffocates me like I’m wrapped in a heavy wool blanket. But usually after a few minutes, the darkly lit parlor filled with flowers, friends and family relaxes me, and I join in the celebration of a loved one’s journey to the next life.

A few weeks ago, I had a different experience when I accidentally walked into the back office of Vincent’s Funeral Home in Kaplan. Within a couple of seconds, I realized that I’d stepped into a new world. The lights were brighter, and people walked around quicker than in the parlor. Then all of a sudden, a familiar face appeared.

“Hey, Jacques,” the person said.

“Hey, Jacques,” I said back.

It was Jacques Vincent, the funeral director of Vincent Funeral Home. He was the other Jacques in Vermilion Parish; the cooler Jacques. Each time we cross paths, we greet each other the same, both amused at hearing ourselves say our own name to address someone else.



“How’s your family?” The other Jacques asked. “Is everything okay?”

His face tightened for a second, and I was reminded of where we were standing. So I quickly assured him that everyone was fine. His concern was genuine, and I knew that he had reached out to me as a friend. But my interest was also peaked by his profession as a funeral director.

“We have funeral homes in Kaplan, Abbeville and Gueydan,” Vincent said when I interviewed him a week later. “My dad, John Vincent, opened the first one about forty-five years ago. I started helping him with small jobs, like mowing the yard when I was a teenager.”

After graduating from high school, Vincent attended the Commonwealth College of Funeral Services in Texas, where he was class president and salutatorian. He completed fifteen months of classroom time, passed a board exam, and then had a yearlong internship. Upon completion, he became a licensed funeral director and embalmer. Then in 1990, Vincent joined his father’s business.

“The most important aspect of being a funeral director is supporting and guiding the families during the funeral process,” says Vincent. “Knowing that we’re helping them during this difficult time is what makes my job so gratifying.”

Vincent’s Funeral Home assists the family of the deceased with every aspect of the burial. They will submit the obituary to the newspaper, arrange police escorts, order flowers and provide help with any paper work including insurance benefits.

“As a funeral director, you not only deal with the deceased,” says Vincent. “You’re also helping the survivors, all who have different situations and needs.”

Vincent’s advice to anyone interested in becoming a funeral director is to work as an assistant first. He says that the situations of the business are very unique, and exposure beforehand will ensure a person is able to deal with the realities.

“The thing that had the most impact on me as a funeral director was when I lost my brother,” says Vincent. “It helped me realized what the families of the deceased are going through.”

The interview had changed. The man across the desk from me was no longer Vincent, the funeral director. He had become the other Jacques again; a friend, who because of his own loss, could now help others.

“I read your column,” he said and smiled. “Aren’t you supposed to do a job at the place you’re writing about? I have an idea.”

The smile on his face alarmed me, and I began to feel like the wool blanket had been wrapped around me again. What kind of job could I do in a funeral home that wouldn’t freak me out?

Vincent brought me to a brightly lit room and pointed at a white table with a hose sticking out of it. He suited me up in rubber gloves, a paper coat, and a plastic mask that made me feel like I was wearing a Return of the Jedi Halloween costume.

“It’s the embalming table,” he said handing me a large scrub brush. “Now clean it good or I’ll tell your boss at the paper you aren’t doing your job.”

We spent the next few minutes laughing, and then headed to the lobby where Vincent’s
wife, Dawn was busy managing the day-to-day operations of a funeral home office. We all knew each other from high school, and I was reminded of weekends spent driving up and down Cushing Boulevard and hanging out at the Sonic.

Although I learned a lot from my interview with Vincent, it was the time I spent with the other Jacques and Dawn that gave me a real look outside the darkly lit parlors of the funeral home. Death is difficult for everyone, but life has to continue. It sure feels good to know that we have friends and family there to remind us and help us through it.

For more information on the services provided by Vincent Funeral Home, call 337-643-7276 or visit their Web site at www.vincentfuneralhome.net. Service info line: 337-225-5276

Strength to be a Senior

In a few months, seniors throughout Vermilion parish will receive their high school diplomas. Until their big night, they are still attending classes, participating in extra-curriculum activities and planning their future. But as they take that first step towards the next phase in their lives, where will they find direction? Where will they find the strength?

My niece Taylor Couvillon is a senior at Kaplan High School this year. In addition to being the cheerleading captain, she is class president and student council vice president. I recently had dinner with her to talk about her future, and the pressures of the last few months before she officially becomes a high school graduate.

“I know I want to go to college,” Taylor said “I’m just not sure where, or what I’m going to study.”

Taylor has interests in both law and publishing. As part of a senior project, she recently shadowed an editor with the University of Louisiana Press to learn more about the industry.

“Now I’d like to shadow an attorney,” Taylor said. “Having these opportunities has been very helpful in making a decision.”

For many seniors, deciding what to do after graduation is the biggest choice they’ve ever made. Be it pursuing a higher education, joining the armed forces or entering the workforce, their decision will affect their future.

“I’m going to college because my parents taught me that education gives strength,” says Taylor. “I’m looking forward to the freedom and responsibility it will bring, but sometimes I’m afraid I’ll fall on my face.”

Taylor said that the most challenging part of high school was the class work. She motivated herself by focusing on her goal of graduating, which would allow her to move forward in her life.

“One thing I’m going to do different in college is not get caught up in the little problems,” Taylor said. “My advice to a high school freshman is to do the same, and to stay focused on learning and getting a degree.”

According to Taylor, what she enjoyed most about high school was being exposed to new people. She feels it helped her grow, and made her more tolerant of others. In the future, she would like to travel in order to learn about different cultures and people. She is especially interested in third world countries where she could assist those in need.

“It would help me feel more grateful for everything I’ve been given,” says Taylor. “I’d stop worrying about the little stuff and see things clearer. I’ve come to realize that I am only a small part in the big scheme of the world.”

Even though I graduated over twenty years ago, I can still remember the excitement and anxiety of being in Taylor’s shoes. Like my niece, I had accomplished my goal of completing high school, but was concerned that I wasn’t prepared for what lied ahead. But my desire to move forward into the next phase of my life outweighed my fear (and sometimes common sense). Although I made many mistakes along the way, I learned and grew from the experience.

“How will you take that first step after graduation?” I asked Taylor. “Where will you find the strength?”

“By looking at the past and future,” Taylor said. “I’ll see what I learned, and then use it to move forward.”

To Be Inked or Not To Be Inked

One of my favorite pastimes as a child was to apply temporary tattoos to my body, and flex my miniscule muscles to imitate the professional wrestlers on television. I’d dream of the day when I’d be compared to wrestling greats such as Junkyard Dog, and I could get real ink tattoos that didn’t wash off in the shower. But my fantasy of both ended one day when I thought about how painful it would be if someone slammed me against the rink floor and stuck a needle in my body over and over again.

As I grew older though, the art of tattooing re-emerged as one of my interest. I never got one because I didn’t know what I wanted, and because I was still afraid of the pain involved. But the symbolism and design fascinates me, and so this week I found out what it’s like to be a tattoo artist.

Crazy Cajun Tattoos, located at 2154 Charity Street at the Lafitte Mall in Abbeville, has been open since 1995. In addition to their services of tattoo design and body piercing, the business also sells an assortment of graphic t-shirts and novelty items. Zoe Crouch is the owner of the establishment, but her husband, Brian Crouch, is the manager and head tattoo artist.

“I was an apprentice for several years at a parlor in Great Britian,” says Mr. Crouch. “I’d always been interested in art and design, but it was my time there that helped my creativity flourish.”

According to Crouch, people get tattoos for various reasons including rebellion, peer pressure or honoring someone. The most popular designs include tribal symbols, roses, tigers, wizards, dragons and coy fish.

“People can bring in their own artwork or choose from the ones we have here,” says Crouch. “If they ask me to pick a tattoo for them, I tell them to go home and come back when they know what they want. This is going to be on their body forever.”

Crouch has tattooed lawyers, doctors, judges and his seventy-year old grandmother. He says that the best part of his job is working with the customers because they are what make his business successful. But he also loves challenges.

“I’m inspired when someone comes in with a bad tattoo and wants help changing it,” says Crouch. “I like the creativity of taking something the customer doesn’t like and making it into a piece of art.”

Two of Crouch’s regular customers walked into the shop during our interview. One of them, Mike DeBlanc, has been getting tattoos for fifteen years.

“It’s addictive,” says DeBlanc. “Like eating Lay’s potato chips.”

Seth Broussard, another faithful customer, was there to get a new tattoo on his already ornately designed arm. He referred to Crouch as his friend and therapist.

“It’s almost like a beauty parlor at times,” said Crouch. “I’m a marriage counselor, a bartender, and a best friend.”

Crouch allowed me to assist him with the tattoo he gave to Broussard. I got to shave the customer’s arm and then apply a transfer of the artwork, an intricate design resembling a spider’s web.

“My best advice to someone interested in becoming a tattoo artist is to apprentice under someone reputable,” says Crouch. “Also make sure that you’re inspired by their work.”

I knew going into the interview that I could never be a tattoo artist. For one, I can’t draw to save my life, and two, my hands are so shaky that if I were to hold a jar of milk for an hour, it would probably turn into a slab of butter. I couldn’t stand to think of the damage I would cause holding a pulsating needle filled with ink against a person’s skin.

But the knowledge I gained from Crouch was well worth my time at Crazy Cajun Tattoos. We all have creativity inside of us, and it’s our choice how to express it. I left empowered with the message of tolerance and being true to oneself, but also a little embarrassed that a seventy-year-old grandmother faced the pain that scared me away from ever being inked.

For more information on Crazy Cajun Tattoos, call 337-898-0082 or visit their Web site www.crazycajuntattoos.com

Strength to Take Life by the Hour

We are often given big challenges in life, which although are attainable over time, feel overwhelming and impossible. It might be getting a college degree, saving up money for a home or beating an addiction. The sheer size of the journey required to accomplish these goals scares many people from ever beginning. That is unless of course, you’re Charlene Beckett, who found the strength to quit smoking by taking life by the hour.

“I never said I was quitting,” says Beckett. “If I would have said I was going to quit and not done it, I would have felt like a failure.”

Beckett started smoking in college and continued for twenty years. She says that cigarettes relaxed her, and made her feel less vulnerable because they created a smoke screen around her.

“In some ways cigarettes were my best friend,” says Beckett. “They kept me occupied, but never argued with me.”

When Beckett reached her mid-thirties, she became concerned about her health. She woke up one morning, and decided to try and not smoke for one hour. When she accomplished that, she faced her next hour. She continued this strategy for ten years.

“The first day was easier than the second,” says Beckett. “I struggled through my addiction one minute at a time, one hour at a time, one day at a time. It took ten years before I stopped craving them, but now I can say that I’ve been smoke free for a total of twenty.”

According to Beckett the hardest part was the anger. Cigarettes relaxed her, and without them stress levels were high.

“My family’s happy faces and support were great motivators,” says Beckett. “I wanted to quit smoking for them.”

Beckett says that the benefits of smoking have been tremendous. In addition to saving money, she’s healthier, and her home and clothes are cleaner.

“The freedom of not being chained to cigarettes was a great reward,” says Beckett. “There were times when I’d get stressed out if I thought I might not be able to smoke.”

When I sat down with Beckett to discuss her strength, she was poised, relaxed and portrayed a woman of confidence. There was a time before when cigarettes had controlled her, and made her feel safe. But when she realized that what she’d thought had protected her all those years had become a danger, she took one bold step towards what she knew would be a long and hard journey.

“Hour by hour for ten years is a long time,” I said. “Where did you get the strength to face that first sixty minutes?”

“I can’t tell you what got me through those days,” says Beckett. “It was a gift. An extremely amazing gift.”

For more information on quitting smoking, go to www.quitwithusla.org

Featuring This Family

My favorite house in Cow Island is a little green craftsman style structure, shaded by the limbs of oak and pecan trees. It has been there since before I was born, yet I never really noticed it until a few years ago when I moved back home. At first it was subtle changes, like flags blowing in the wind, and boat paddles mounted on the side of a small red barn that grabbed my attention. But it was on clear summer days, when I’d catch glimpses of a pond, fountain and sailboat that I knew this house was special.

“The red barn is my office and work shop,” says Carol Hebert Harper, design consultant for the businesses, Feature This and Curb Appeal For Dummies.com.


Harper runs the two businesses, which opened in 2008, with her daughter, Michelle Molinari. The mission of Feature This is to provide direction to people who would like to redesign their home for living, or would like to sell their house and need help giving it a make over.

“We make sure that a house doesn’t say, ‘Time and money,’” says Molinari. “We offer staging techniques that make it say, ‘I’m worth my price.’”

Curb Appeal for Dummies.com is tailored to help clients who want to make the outside of their house more attractive to potential buyers. Molinari and Harper design a strategy package of simple ways to increase the selling price. It may suggest a paint job, adding more plants or small renovations.

“We super-impose the suggestions on a digital photograph that the client emails to us,” says Harper. “Our customers are from throughout the U.S.”

Harper studied design in California, and has consulted on both commercial and residential spaces in Los Angeles, Palm Springs and Houston. Molinari is a painter, who commissions her work. She trained with Certified Staging Professionals, where she is now an instructor.

“I train brokers and real estate agents how to use staging efficiently and effectively,” says Molinari. “This helps sellers receive a greater return on investment.”

Harper’s mother, Audrey Jerome, inherited the little green house from her parents. It remained unoccupied for several years until 2000 when Harper and her husband moved to Cow Island.

“The house has to be over a hundred years old,” says Jerome. “It was originally a lot smaller, but my dad added on pieces as time passed.”

Molinari moved to Vermilion Parish in 2006 after her home in Texas was destroyed by Hurricane Rita. She wanted to learn more about her Cajun roots and to be closer to her mother.

“We motivate and feed off of each other,” says Molinari. “It helps make us a great team.”

Jerome recently moved back to Cow Island after Hurricane Ike destroyed her home in Bridge City. Harper and Molinari renovated the front part of the little green house and made a small apartment for Jerome.

BEFORE


AFTER


BEFORE


AFTER

My mother and I visited the house recently, and while she talked with Jerome in her living room, I interviewed Molinari and Harper in the back of the house. I was inspired by their design choices like bamboo ceilings, cabinet doors made from old shutters, and framed paint by number scenes of New Orleans, all lit by antique kerosene lanterns.

“It’s kind of funny because you don’t hear of many people who move to Vermilion Parish to get away from hurricanes,” I said. “In a way, this house and two of the Gulf Coast’s biggest storms brought your family together.”

“I’m very grateful to live here,” says Harper. “I love having parties, and especially putting on little parades.”

I was fortunate enough to be invited to a Fourth of July party at the property one summer, and knew of the parades. Both children and adults dressed in red, white and blue marched around the pond while their families cheered them on.

“This is my favorite house in Cow Island,” I said to Harper. “Even though this is my first time inside, it feels familiar.”

The little green house provided both a space for a mother and daughter to run a business, and a refuge for families to reconnect. Harper and Molinari are definitely talented artists who can make a property more beautiful on the outside. But their best work is the home they’ve created within.

For more information on the services of Harper and Molinari, call 337-652-3983 or visit their Web site at www.featurethisdotdotdot.com.

Strength for 2010

For over fifteen Januaries, I’ve made resolutions for a better life in the year facing me. Sometimes I accomplished six or seven out of ten, and other times zero out of five. I’m determined to achieve all of my goals in 2010, but am sometimes overwhelmed and uncertain if I’ll have the strength.

There are some days when I only have time to live, and can’t worry about altering my routine to pursue a challenge for which no one will hold me accountable. So I’ve created a game plan to keep me on track, and remind me of where I’m headed. This week, I’d like to share my strategy in hopes that it will help you while making your resolutions.

1. Spend time to decide what you want.

You’ll never be motivated to accomplish a goal unless it’s one you set for yourself.

2. Write your resolutions down everywhere.

The years that I didn’t accomplish my goals are the ones when I forgot what they were. It is easy to get distracted by every day life. Write your resolutions down on paper. Make copies and put them in frequently seen places like a bathroom mirror, microwave door, or entertainment center holding the television. I wrote my list on the first of every month of my calendar to remind me that a deadline is approaching.

3. Be realistic

Being ambitious can be rewarding, but also discouraging if your goals seem impossible to achieve. Make resolutions that are attainable within a certain time frame, and are a step towards something bigger.

4. Be specific

Instead of writing, ‘Be healthier,’ write, ‘Be able to walk two miles three days a week by March.’ One year I wrote, ‘Save money.’ Twelve months later on New Years Eve, I had fifty cents in my pocket. I’d technically accomplished my resolution, but didn’t feel richer.

5. Make time

Because there are always so many things to do, I sometimes neglect my resolutions. So I’ve set up an appointment with myself every week to focus and work on making my life more fulfilling. Sometimes it’s at a library, coffee shop or park, but I always have something to write with, and my cell phone is turned off.

Every person is different and accomplishes goals in various ways. The pointers listed above are what have worked for me personally, but might not be beneficial to everyone. I’ve shared them with you in hopes that they will not only guide you in your quest for a more enriching life, but to also help me accomplish my number one resolution for 2010; to promote strength in the world, and help people reach their full potential.

Visage Thirty-Nine

Freckles cover my upper back and shoulders due to the many shirtless hours I spent outside as a child. I am now more attentive to protecting my skin, and recently encouraged my mother to do the same. But when I asked her to wear a moisturizer with sunscreen, she frowned at me like I had suggested that she take me out to lunch.

“I’m trying to keep you from getting skin cancer,” I said.

“I’m not outside long enough to worry about it,” she argued. “And since when did you become a doctor?”

I knew that unless I graduated from medical school, worked several years at Abbeville General Hospital, and cured cancer, my mother wouldn’t listen to me. Since I didn’t have that much time to invest to make my point, I decided to seek the assistance of someone in the skin care profession.

Visage Joli’ Spa and Salon, located at 2403 Charity Street in Abbeville, is owned and operated by husband and wife team, Daren and Tiffany Roy. The couple opened their doors in March 2009, and offer services ranging from ion cleanse detox to firming seaweed facials to haircuts, coloring and styling. Their merchandise mix includes vegan cosmetics, handmade baby clothes and candles that can be used as a moisturizer.



“I became interested in the skin care industry after working in the medical field,” says Mrs. Roy. “I love working with people and helping them look and feel their best.”

Mrs. Roy is a licensed esthetician and a graduate of the Aveda Institute in Lafayette. She has received training in various treatments including spider vein reduction, radio frequency skin tightening and laser collagen synthesis.

“The hardest part of owning our own business is the financial stress,” said Mrs. Roy. “My dream is to become profitable enough to expand Visage Joli’ to include nail care and massages.”

Hairstylists Alisha Trahan and Amber Vice operate the salon part of the business. Although it is located in the same building, it is nestled off to the side of the spa, creating a separate environment.

“A woman’s beauty secrets are her own,” says Mrs. Roy. “I wanted to create a place that felt cozy, private and discreet.”

Glenda Abate, Mrs. Roy’s mother, is the receptionist and assistant manager of Visage Joli (Beautiful Face). She suggested that while I interviewed her daughter, I enjoy an ion cleanse detox. I had imagined it to be some sort of drink that would ensure I visited the bathroom regularly. Since I’d already eaten two bowls of raisin brand that morning, I didn’t think it would be wise.

“No thank you,” I said while rubbing my stomach.

“You should try it,” Mr. Roy said. “I do it all the time, and feel a lot better afterwards.”

I didn’t want to be rude, so I said okay, but made a special note of where the bathroom was located just in case there was a problem. But instead of giving me a drink, Mrs. Roy made me put my bare feet in a tub of water. She placed something round like an electric pencil sharper inside, and then plugged it in.

“Is this going to shock me?” I asked.

“The electricity helps extract the toxins from your body,” Abate said. “The water will change color depending on what’s removed.”

While I sat there, Mrs. Roy exfoliated my mother’s face with a diamond chipped laser. According to the Visage Joli service menu, the treatment called diamond microdermabrasion helps rejuvenate the skin and remove fine lines.

“Your skin is dry, Mrs. Couvillon,” Mrs. Roy said. “You should use a moisturizer with sunscreen every day. It will help you look younger.”

“Younger than thirty-nine?” my mother asked. “That’s a good idea. Can you suggest one?”

The water around my bare feet had become yellow. I wasn’t sure it if it was from the toxins in my body, or from the surprise that my mother had accepted Mrs. Roy’s suggestion so easily. For a few seconds I felt hurt, but then realized it didn’t matter because I had achieved my goal.

I enjoyed our time at Visage Joli’. Not only because of their remarkable hospitality and knowledge, but because they had reinforced my belief in the importance of maintaining and protecting our skin.

But later as my mother and I drove away, I couldn’t help but wonder why she’d had a change of heart concerning moisturizer and sunscreen. She’d always insisted that my siblings and I used it when were growing up, but didn’t feel it was necessary for herself.

“Why are you going to listen to Mrs. Roy, but not me?” I asked. “Was that diamond- chipped laser really a mind control device? Can it make you stop asking me when I’m going to get a job?”

“You’re not that lucky or funny,” she answered. “I listened to Mrs. Roy because she said the moisturizer with sunscreen would help me look younger. I’m only thirty-nine, but one day soon I might be able to pass for thirty-eight.”

Strength to Cheer

The ‘Who Dat’ fever has swept across America, and the people of Louisiana couldn’t be prouder of its Saints. Dreams of a Super Bowl hang in the air, and everyone from children to grandmothers are dressing in black and gold to show support.

But there was a time when both the Saints’ playing record and popularity weren’t as bright. The team’s somewhat famous losses sparked jokes and rumors that they had been jinxed or had the voodoo on them. Although fans popped up here and there to support our boys during winning seasons, only a few die-hard cheerleaders had the strength to raise their poms-poms during the good times and the bad.

“I’ve been in the Super Dome when it’s at its fullest capacity,” says Saints’ fan (and my sister), Sandy Richard. “And I’ve been in it when it was almost empty.”

Sandy is a thirty-five year Saints’ fan veteran who believes it is her duty to support this Louisiana team. It was during a recent game we attended together that I realized just how serious and devoted she was to her calling. In addition to wearing an authentic black and gold jersey with Brees written across the back, she purchased a football program and a giant fountain drink to get a souvenir cup.

“My most memorable moment was when I came to a play-off game here at the Super Dome in 2006,” Sandy said. “The energy of the fans was overwhelming. I felt unified with the crowd because we all wanted a victory.”

A couple of women dressed from head to toe in fleur de lis prints danced around my sister and me like they were at the greatest party on earth. Although I’ve never followed sports closely, I was somewhat drawn into the excitement of the event.

“It’s like a family,” Sandy said. “Over the years, you learn so much about the coaches and the players, you feel like you know them.”

I borrowed Sandy’s football program to brush up on my Saints’ knowledge. At a game the year before, I made the mistake of asking the name of the quarterback. Sandy told me that I embarrassed her, and to not ask any more questions until we left the Super Dome.

“Football is something I’ve always shared with my friends and family,” said Sandy. “Especially dad, because he’s the one who got me to start watching.”

The Saints won that night, and as I cheered with millions of fans across America, I felt the unity of which Sandy had spoken. It filled me with energy, and gave me the sense we’d all accomplished something great.

“It’s fun when they win,” I said. “But what gives you the strength to follow the team during their tough times?”

“Pride and dreams,” Sandy responded. “I’m proud to be from Louisiana, and it’s a dream of mine that the Saints go to the Super Bowl. When they do, it will mean that other dreams can come true as well.”

Turn Your Trash into Cash

Ever since I was a child, my mother and I have recycled aluminum cans together. I was responsible for smashing and bagging them, and in return she would drive me to the recycling center and let me keep the money. It was an easy job at the time, because in a family of ten, there were always empty soda cans somewhere around the house.

Since I’ve returned home after being gone for twenty years, my mother and I have started up our business again. But this time, things have changed. I still have to bag the cans, but now I’m driving her to the recycling center, and she keeps the money.

Another change is that my mother has become more aggressive in how she collects her inventory of merchandise. Anytime we drive somewhere, she searches the road and ditches, and points out any aluminum cans she sees. If there are three or more within a few feet, she insists that I stop the car and pick them up. She makes me routinely call my siblings to ensure they are saving their cans for her, and has ordered me to dig through trashcans filled with dirty diapers and bees.

“It’s cash money,” my momma said. “And I have some tweezers to get the bee stinger out of your arm.”

Although I can’t say I enjoy walking in muddy ditches and searching through garbage in the parking lot of Tiffany Plaza, I support my mother’s entrepreneurship 100 percent. Since she taught me that education is the key to success, this week we went and found out what it’s like to be the man who buys the aluminum cans from us.

Located at 723 AA Comeaux Memorial Drive, (Just past the ball park) Abbeville Scrap and Recycling is owned and operated by Earl James Fritz and his wife, Lisa. The company has been open for over three years, and purchases a variety of merchandise including aluminum, brass, copper and automotive batteries and radiators.

“Turn your trash into cash,” says Fritz. “That’s our motto.”



Before starting his business, Fritz worked construction in the oil field. His job sometimes required him to spend extended periods of time away. But now, he runs a business out of his home and yard, and receives help from family members including his dad, brother, cousins and children.

“I started this recycling business to help my community and the earth,” says Fritz. “But most importantly, to spend more time with my family.”

According to Fritz, the most difficult part of running his own business is the financial insecurity. Since so much of his income depends on his inventory, he relies heavily on the public.

“I’m never sure if someone is going to turn into our driveway,” says Fritz. “I once had a customer tell me that the community was lucky to have a place they could sell things to get money. But the truth is, I’m lucky to have them. Without the support of the people, my business couldn’t survive.”

In addition to the items Fritz recycles for his business, he also recycles the paper and plastic his family uses in their home. Although it provides no income, it is something he has done for years in order to do his part for the environment.

“I want to lead by example,” says Fritz. “If my kids see me doing something positive, they’ll follow in my footsteps.”

Fritz welcomed my mother and I into his home like we were long lost family. He gave us a tour of his business, and showed me how to operate the scale on which he weighs aluminum cans. Once I understood the process, I grabbed my mother’s large plastic bag of what she calls her retirement check, and weighed it.




“Ten pounds,” I said. “At thirty cents a pound, that’s three dollars.”

“Weigh it again,” my mother told me. “You’re trying to jip me.”

Fritz checked my work and assured my mother that ten pounds was correct. She accepted his decision, but looked at the sack of cans with a sad face as if they’d disappointed her.



“Did you learn anything that will help your can recycling enterprise?” I asked my mother as we drove away.

I had hoped she’d tell me that she learned the importance of family support when operating a business. Or that in addition to the income recycling brings, it prevents littering and is good for the environment. Or even the importance of an adult leading by example to send a positive message to his community and children.

But instead, she stared out at a crushed soda can in the middle of the road and said, “Yes. I learned that if I want to get more money for my cans, my son will have to put his foot on the scale.”

For more information on the items Abbeville Scrap and Recycling purchases, call 337-523-9322. To learn where you can recycle plastic and paper throughout the parish, call Solid Waste at 337-898-4338.

Strength to be a Soldier

In a few days, on January 8th, 2010, Jonathan Deshotels will report for his call of duty with the National Guard. After a couple of months in Mississippi, he will head off to fight the war in Iraq for his second time. He was a single man his first term overseas, but now he will have to find the strength to leave behind his wife and two children.

“I never thought we’d still be fighting this war,” says Deshotels. “But I’m a soldier. It requires that when you get a mission, you accomplish your task.”

Once in Iraq, Deshotels will be a platoon sergeant for 25 to 30 soldiers. In order to effectively do his job, he searches for inspiration by reading leadership books about coaches, organizational leaders and our founding fathers.

“The secret to being a great leader is to know what your job is, and care about the people you are leading,” says Deshotels. “You can’t fake it or they’ll know. Soldiers become stronger from the strength their leader portrays.”

According to Deshotels, leadership requires constantly ensuring everyone’s well being because their personal life can affect their performance on the mission. He is not only the soldiers’ platoon sergeant, but he his also their friend and family.

It was a week before Christmas when I sat down with Deshotels and his family in their Abbeville home. I was there to find out where a man and his wife would find the strength to be separate for a year.

“It’s important to have the support of your friends and family,” says Deshotels. “Mine sent me two and three packages a day during the holidays when I was away the first time. I started passing them out to soldiers who weren’t receiving anything from home. It gave them strength to get through their day.”

Deshotels and his wife, Valerie have a three year old daughter named Lydia and a seven-month old son, Jules. The family plans to stay in touch via email and a Web camera a few days each week.

“I’m not looking forward to Jonathan leaving,” said Mrs. Deshotels. “But he’s been open and honest about what’s going to happen. Because of him and my family, I’ll have the strength to raise my children.”

While Mrs. Deshotels bounced their son, Julies on her knee, their daughter, Lydia danced around the living room with the innocence and energy only a child has the pleasure of knowing. The Christmas tree lit the room with a glow, and although it had been raining outside all day long, the air felt warm and secure.

I found the answer I’d gone searching for at the Deshotels home. The couple became stronger through open communication, honesty, education and the support of friends and family. As we all face the challenges and resolutions of 2010, I hope that many of you will think of the Deshotels family, and find the strength you need.

Born to Drive

Even though I grew up on a farm, I’ve never been comfortable driving an oversized vehicle. I’ve steered clear of jobs that would require me to do so, often missing out on good opportunities. So this week, I decided to face my fears and find out what it takes to be a professional truck driver.

I didn’t have to look far to find one, because my brother Ray has been driving for over eight years for Acadiana Shell and Limestone. The company, located at 930 South Henry Road, is owned by brothers Kim and Eddie Young.



When I reached their office for my interview with Ray, I imagined the two of us racing across the open road like in the movie Smokey and The Bandit. I’d even come up with a C.B. handle (Green Goose) and saved my money for souvenirs and bumper stickers at truck stops. But due to unforeseeable circumstances, we were only able to ride around the gravel parking lot of Acadiana Shell and Limestone.

“How old were you when you started driving?” I asked Ray as we bounced around in the cab of his tri-axel dump truck.

“Daddy let me drive the tractor to plow the fields when I was about twelve,” he said. “I drove rice trucks at sixteen, and combines at seventeen.”

All of my brothers and I were educated at the Andrew Couvillon Farm Equipment Driving Institution. In my dad’s school, a mowing machine was kindergarten and a combine was graduating with honors. I was expelled during my tractor year when I might or might not have caused a collision with my brother, Mike and his International Harvester.



“I farmed for several years until the economy got tough,” Ray said. “I always enjoyed the driving aspect of it, and decided to pursue it as a career.”

In addition to years of experience, Ray also posses a CDL license, which he attained after training, and passing an exam. He drives mostly around South Louisiana carrying everything from shell to gravel to sand.

“I like driving because I get to travel to different towns,” Ray said. “I also enjoy being alone and listening to music. If I wasn’t a driver, I’d want to be a song writer.”

Ray drove past mountains of shell, limestone, and gravel, which lined the edge of the Vermilion River. I wasn’t used to riding so high in a vehicle, and in a weird way it reminded me of riding on the neck of an elephant.

“The one thing I don’t like about driving a truck is the danger,” Ray said. “When traffic cuts me off, it’s hard to stop on a dime in something so big. Especially if there’s a load.”

We approached a small wooden bridge, which didn’t seem much wider than the dump truck. It made my stomach queasy, but Ray confidently controlled the large steering wheel of the truck as if it was an extension of his hand.

“I feel very lucky that daddy taught me how to drive almost anything,” Ray said. “It allows me to support my family, and do what I love.”

It was then that I knew I didn’t have what it takes to be a truck driver; a steady hand, an ability to react at any given moment, and a true passion. Yet I was inspired by my brother to maybe one day go back to farm equipment driving school and get my combine degree. And when I do, I hope I’m lucky enough to have Ray continue my education where my dad left off.



For more information on the products and service offered by Acadiana Shell and Limestone call 337-893-1111. For information on a CDL license, check out www.test-cdl.com.

Strength to Race

Whether to battle an illness, overcome obstacles or simply get through the grind of everyday life, a person needs strength. But what is it exactly? Where does it come from? How can I find it?

In my search for these answers, I recently spoke with a thirty-six year-old gentleman named Dr. Jeremy Romero. In addition to being a chiropractor with offices in Kaplan and Abbeville, he is also a triathlete. When he’s not working, or spending quality time with his family, he is peddling, swimming and running to train for his next race.

“Your typical triathlon is about 1.2 miles swimming, fifty-five miles on the bike, and thirteen miles of running,” says Romero. “But some, like the Iron Man can be double that.”

Romero ran on a regular basis through high school and college, but stopped to start a family and build his business. When he reached age thirty-two, he became concerned about his health.

“My blood pressure was high, and I had gained weight,” says Romero. “I went to a cardiologist and found out I had acid reflux. When I left his office, I had an epiphany that it was time for me to start running again. I wanted to be a good example to my little boy and girl, Landon and Lene Claire. But most of all, I wanted to be healthy so I could give them and my wife the energy they deserve.”

Romero started out running short distances, but within a year was competing in 5K runs. Each year he ran longer and longer ones, until he decided to start competing in triathlons.

“The uncertainty of my first race scared me,” said Romero. “But I love a challenge and getting out of my comfort zone. It helps me find out about myself, and what I’m made of.”

Romero picks his races based on location. He’s already run in Napa Valley, and plans to run in Hawaii, Panama City and New Orleans in the next few months.

“I love to travel because of my grandma,” Romero said. “She used to send me postcards from all over the world.”

Romero maintains a diet of nuts, chicken, turkey, lean beef, and fresh fruit and vegetables. His training regiment includes three days of cycling and running, and two days of swimming. In order to avoid interrupting family time, he wakes up at four in the morning, while his wife, Tricia and their two children sleep.

“The most challenging part of the triathlon is the wear on the body,” Romero said. “There have been many races when I just wanted to quit in the middle of it. But I never want to fail. I always want to finish.”

Dr. Jeremy Romero has used mental and physical strength to become the man he wants to be; one whom takes care of himself so he can give more to his family. His story has made me stronger, and inspired me to lead a healthier life by eating right, exercising and spending time with loved ones.

“Knowing that Tricia and the kids are waiting for me at the end of each race gives me strength,” Jeremy said. “My most memorable moment was when my five-year-old boy, Landon, met me a few feet before the finish line. He grabbed my hand and ran across with me. That gave me the strength to race for the rest of my life.”

Always consult your physician before beginning any strenuous exercise program. For more information on triathlons, go to www.triathlete.com