Picture of Postal Worker

Below: Lloyd Broussard, Tina Perrin, Mary Alice Couvillon, Kenneth Gove, Paula Hargrave

One of the great things about coming from a large family is that when I need information about almost anything, I can turn to a relative. If I need financial advice, I speak to my brother, Joey, who works at a bank. If I want to know why my ice cream is melting in my freezer, I call my brother, Jude, who owns an appliance store. And if I have a question concerning anything to do with the post office, I dial 1-800-ASK-MARY (Phone number not real. Do not call.).

My sister-in-law, Mary Alice Couvillon, is a rural carrier associate with the United States Postal Service. I call her on a regular basis with questions like the current costs of stamps, different shipping options and why the only mail I ever get are bills. She’s always such a wealth of information that I sometimes worry she’ll start charging me by the minute like a telephone psychic.

“My favorite part of the job is working with the public,” says Mary Alice. “Some people will meet me at their mailboxes and tell me about their families.”

Mary Alice started her career with the USPS thirteen years ago in Rayne, but now works in the Abbeville location. Before she was hired, she was required to take the Postal Exam, which tested her memory, comparison and math skills.

“I have to be focused and well organized when I sort through the mail because some of the names and addresses are very similar,” says Mary Alice. “It’s one of the most important parts of the job.”

I recently visited Mary Alice at the Abbeville post office to find out what it was like to be a rural carrier associate. We met in the back of the building, and she led us inside a warehouse where postal workers pushed around carts filled with sacks of mail. Then we sat down on stools and faced a large case with shelves, each one sectioned off by addresses.

“When the mail comes into the post office, an associate sorts it by routes,” said Mary Alice. “Then I take the mail for my route and put it in order by address in this casing. That way, I avoid mistakes during delivery.”

According to Mary Alice, the most challenging part of her job is delivering the mail during bad weather or the summer months. But the rest of the year, she enjoys driving the different routes in Vermilion Parish, especially the ones in the country.

“I love photographing nature,” said Mary Alice. “If I could photograph anything in the world, though, it would be my late parents. I’d love to take a picture of them alive today.”

Mary Alice gave me a short tour of the front of the post office where customers can find change of address and hold mail forms, as well as purchase stamps, money orders and shipping materials. We spent the final part of our interview outside in the back parking lot trying to get a decent photograph of me pushing a cart towards a mail truck.

“Try to make me look muscular and like I’m twenty-one years old,” I said to Mary Alice when I handed her the camera.

She didn’t respond with a sarcastic remark like others in my family would have. But instead took a more subtle approach and made sure that I stood in a shady spot.

I called Mary Alice a few days later to ask more questions about her job at the post office. We began a discussion about photography, which until the interview I had no idea of my sister-in-law’s interest. She revealed a side of herself I hadn’t known, and in a way made our relationship closer. I will always value her knowledge of the cost of stamps, but now I look forward to rewarding conversations about art and family.

For more information on careers at the United States Postal Service, visit www.usps.com.

Strength to Lead a Family

There are many books written by leaders like Presidents, war generals and captains of industry. Each one has their own approach on how to lead nations, armies and companies. Some of their techniques have been successful for large organizations, but where do we turn for advice when raising a family? Where do we find the strength?

On Thursday, January 28, 2010, Marie Lege Dartez woke up and prepared for a family meal to be held at her Kaplan home that evening. It was a weekly supper that she had been cooking for the last forty years. At first it was for her three children and their spouses. But over time, with the addition of grandchildren, great grandchildren and great, great grandchildren, the guest list increased to sixty.

“She loved to cook and bring joy to others,” says Dartez’s daughter, Betty Girouard. “She’d make tarts and fudge for her whole family, bring flowers to thirteen different graves for All Saints Day, and make coffee every Saturday morning for anyone who wanted a cup.”

Dartez’s generosity and suppers became famous throughout her community, and soon friends began joining in the celebration of her family. The Kaplan Herald even did a story about the Thursday evening feasts back in 2004.

In the article, Dartez said, “Keeping my family together and having them know one another is very important to me.”

No one knows for certain what was going through the 86 year-old’s mind on January 28, 2010 while she prepared for the evening meal. Perhaps it was about which side dishes to serve or what the weather was like or how lucky she was to have most of her family coming over that evening. Regardless, this last supper was her most important, because when she went to bed that night, she continued to sleep forever.

At Dartez’s funeral was one of the pots she used for her last supper. Inside was an arrangement of sixty roses to represent each member of her family that she left behind.
On March 15th of this year, what would have been Dartez’s 87th birthday, her family got together and watched a video of her making homemade tarts.

“She used to make tarts for the whole family every year,” said Girouard. “This past summer she said it would be the last time.”

Girouard once interviewed her mother for a paper she had to write for a class. She learned that Dartez grew up on a houseboat and made her own toys when she a little girl.

“I learned so much about my mother’s life from that interview,” said Girouard. “It was a special moment with her that I will treasure forever.”

I first learned of Dartez and her famous suppers the day she died. A friend told me of the tradition, which at the time I found to be very heartwarming. But it never occurred to me to write about it until a month later when I ran into Girouard.

“I get lonesome when I can’t talk to her,” said Girouard. “When I miss her, I think of her alive, or go to her house and sit in her chair with her favorite blanket wrapped around me.”

Girouard invited my mother and me to her home for supper, where I met her husband, Boyd Girouard and one of their two children, Olivia. We spent several hours talking about friends, family and what we’d learned from our parents.

“Ma-mom believed in the value of family,” said Girouard. “She was determined to keep us together.”

Although you will never find a book on leadership written by Marie Lege Dartez, she successfully led her loved ones and taught them about the power and strength of family. But it wasn’t by charging onto a battlefield, or standing on a podium giving speeches. It was from sharing her gift of cooking with her followers, and practicing the art of simple generosity.

“I am so thankful for having her as a mother,” said Girouard. “She gave me the confidence to be who I am, and the strength to hold my head up high.”

The Thursday night my mother and I went to the Girouard’s home, I could tell that Dartez’s influence had been passed on to her daughter. The family prepared a wonderful supper for us, and even wrapped up food for us to take. To them it seemed to be a simple gesture of kindness, but what they might not have realized was that the paper plate carried more than a meal. It held Marie Lege Dartez’s legacy, but most importantly, her strength.

Kaplan Telephone Company

I still have the old black rotary telephone my family used when I was a kid. Its almost fifty years old, but still works and is a fine example of quality and craftsmanship. I admire its sturdiness, and would in fact still be using it today if it didn’t give me a blister on my index finger or take twenty-five minutes to dial.

Building something sturdy, while continuing to improve its quality is a principal the late Lytle Turnley practiced in life and in business. In 1952, he began ownership and management of the organization known today as Kaplan Telephone Company Inc. He initially provided phone service to a little over five hundred customers, but through hard work and support from his family, grew the business into a telecommunications powerhouse that connects residents throughout Vermilion Parish.

Turnley’s sons, Tony and Carl are now president and vice president respectively of Kaplan Telephone Company. The business offers cable television, broadband Internet, cellular and home phone services. Their products include cellular communication equipment, security systems, as well as business telephone systems. In 2001, KTC Telecom completed a fiber optic build out to serve the Abbeville business district.

“Lytle Turnley always stressed that if you worked hard, success would follow,” says Turnley’s stepson, Richard Constantin. “He believed in learning as much as you can about your work so you can be the best at it.”

Constantin is the Financial and Regulatory Manager at KTC. His credentials include twenty-five years of experience in the telecommunications industry, a Bachelors degree in Finance and a Masters in Business Administration from the University of Louisiana.

“I started climbing and working on telephone poles when I was fifteen,” says Constantin. “In the past twenty-five years, I’ve seen the company grow larger, but because of technology, the equipment has gotten smaller.”

Constantin worked as an outside plant technician while learning the ins and outs of the business. One of his favorite memories during this time was when after repairing an elderly customer’s telephone, she cooked lunch for the two of them.

Constantin recalls, ““The food was great, and the woman told me stories of the past. Then on the way out she handed me a paper bag of cucumbers from her garden. I remember thinking, ‘Where but in South Louisiana do you find such wonderful people?’”

I first learned of Kaplan Telephone Company’s history a few years ago when I visited Le Musee de la Ville on Cushing Avenue. Lytle Turnley donated the building for the museum as well as an exhibit of a lady mannequin named Gladys, who sits in front of an antique telephone switchboard.

When I visited KTC last week, Constantin furthered my knowledge and gave me a tour of the building. Because the structure grew with the organization through the second half of the twentieth century, each hallway and office provided architectural features from decades past. That is until we stepped into the future or as Constantin calls, the Central Office.

“It’s where all the telephone calls come through,” said Constantin. “It’s also where cable video and broadband internet transmits.”

I had imagined beforehand that the room would be filled with human versions of Gladys connecting calls with use of an antique switchboard. But instead, computers, routers and switches controlled and transmitted thousands of conversations that swam around me.

My tour of KTC continued outside with Turnley’s grandson, Matt Turnley. He gave me a look inside a box, known as a pedestal, at the base of a telephone pole. It was filled with hundreds of multi-colored wires that wrapped around each other to create giant snakes.



“This box is where phone, internet and cable is transmitted to the homes within certain city blocks,” said Turnley. “With fiber optic technology, we’ll be able to use one wire to replace thirty-two of the older ones.”

To give me a better idea of what it’s like to be an outside plant technician, Turnley let me re-program all of the systems so that customers would have the option to hear conversations in any language they’d like. I’m just kidding. All I did was put on a KTC hat and hold a pair of pliers while Constantin took my picture.

I was a little upset that I didn’t get to climb a telephone pole, but other than that, really enjoyed myself at KTC. I am sorry that I never had the opportunity to meet the late Lytle Turnley. His generosity to his community is evident throughout Kaplan.

What is even more obvious though, is that Turnley believed in creating something sturdy while continuing to improve its quality. Like my old black telephone, he built KTC to last. But it was his principals of education and hard work that enables his family to continuously improve communication amongst the residents of Vermilion Parish.

For more information on the services of Kaplan Telephone Company, call 337-643-7171 or visit www.ktcpace.com

Strength to Break Routines

To break up my routine of staring at the same face in the mirror every day, I sometimes grow beards. Each morning someone different reflects back at me, and for twenty-four hours I become that person.

The first day I’m a late sleeper who forgot to buy razors. The next, I’m on vacation, and the next I’m an international action reporter. Fourthly, I’m a college professor, and after a week, just before I shave my brown and gray beard off, I’m a much more attractive and younger version of Santa Claus.

I usually receive positive responses from friends and family about the change. This often motivates me to try and go past my Claus-in-training face to my ZZ Top. But my goal is suddenly redirected by a painful skin rash and a piercing sound.

“Why don’t you shave that thing off?” my mother will ask. “It makes you look so old and nasty.”

I quickly put the blade of my razor to my face and neck to end my suffering. But also to experience the reward of my clean-shaven skin’s first breath and the image of a man I hadn’t seen in seven days. Then I start all over again, enjoying each new person until day six when the voice and rash return.

But then my strategy to break my routine becomes its own routine and I’m right back where I started; in a routine. We need them to accomplish day-to-day goals and sometimes to build something long-term. But at what point do they stop helping, and instead start controlling? Where can we find the strength to break them?

After I graduated from high school in 1987, I changed addresses every single year until 2008. Sometimes it was just to another floor in the same building or a different part of a city or to an entire other country. My reasons for the moves ranged from necessity to adventure to facing a challenge with which I didn’t want to deal. Part of it all had been a journey, but another part had become a routine.

Because I didn’t move in 2009, my streak is broken. My withdrawal from the race was the result of pure exhaustion, and boredom of only scratching the surface of something instead of digging deeper to find out what was beneath.

As each day of my second year in the same place passes, I realize that my world isn’t ending because I’m breaking a routine. In fact I’ve been rewarded with closer relationships and stories of strength as I build something larger than I could have ever imagined.

Not moving last year was the biggest routine I ever broke. It has given me the strength to make other changes like eating healthier, spending time with family and friends and not immediately becoming angry when something doesn’t go my way.

But being still hasn’t been easy. I had to suddenly stop the routines of the person I was for the past twenty years. My urge for continuous movement, and my fear of responsibility frequently re-emerge, threatening the man I am trying to become.

So I grow beards. With each day’s growth of whiskers, I am reminded that I can be someone else. I can be responsible and passionate and generous and even adventurous. Through each face, I learn and become inspired to be the best I can.

This week I am sending you strength to break a routine. Call an old friend, go for a walk, eat at a new restaurant or take a night class. We all have the power to make positive changes in our lives, but we must take that first step.

As far as my beards go, my mother will be happy to know that since spring is here, I’ll stop growing them. But I seriously doubt she’s going to like my new routine to cope with the heat and humidity of the weather; shaving my head.

Mr. Electric Illuminates the World

I recently visited the store, Abbeville Electric to interview the owner, Rob Roy. When I stepped into the front showroom, I was greeted by a glow of light fixtures hanging from almost every inch of the walls and ceiling. Because of their different shapes and sizes, the room cast shadows and reflections making it feel exotic and magical like Superman’s Fortress of Solitude.

Is Rob Roy a super hero? I thought. Will he be wearing a cape with a picture of a light bulb on it and call himself Mr. Electric?

The man who introduced himself as Roy, was wearing normal clothes, but had the qualifications to be an electric caped crusader if he wished. His credentials include studying electronics at Louisiana Technical College in Abbeville, an apprenticeship as an electrician’s helper, and over twenty years of experience with lighting and electricity.

“I love different challenges such as designing and estimating costs of projects,” says Roy. “I never get bored with my job.”

Abbeville Electric offers consulting on lighting and electrical projects. Their merchandise line includes, (but is not limited to) ceiling fans, cabinet door hardware, landscape lighting, dimmer switches, oilfield related products, light bulbs, generators and receptacles.

“We have a strong relationship with building contractors and the oilfield industry,” says Roy. “But we also have a lot of customers who just need light bulbs.”

According to Roy, the easiest way to save electricity and money is by using Compact Florescent and LED light bulbs. They require less energy to produce more light than many regular bulbs.

Pictured: Me (Jacques Couvillon) replacing a regular bulb with an LED

“You should always use the recommended bulb wattage that is written on the light fixture,” says Roy. “If you use a bulb that is too high, it becomes a fire hazard.”

But Roy and his experienced employees do more than just offer advice on the correct bulbs to use. They can help you choose the right lighting fixture to perfectly illuminate any room in your home or business.

“We consider many factors like the use, size and wall color of the room,” says Roy. “But most importantly, we try to understand the customer’s tastes, wants and needs.”

Abbeville Electric also provides information on current safety guidelines as set by the National Electrical Code. One new requirement for all structures built in 2010 or later is the tamper resistant receptacle, which can be purchased at Abbeville Electric.

Although I learned a tremendous amount about electricity and lighting, the highlight of my interview was the tour Roy gave me of Abbeville Electric. The building was built in 1948 and was originally The Ritz movie theatre. Roy made a few renovations in accordance with the historical society, but did leave a remnant of the structure’s past.

“If you look up at the ceiling, you can see the curtain that dropped over the movie screen,” said Roy. “The old projector lights are still behind it.”

Pictured: Old curtains from The Ritz movie theatre

I have great respect for Roy for honoring the building’s past. But more so for the professionalism he practices when it comes to his job. He is not only there to sell you a light bulb, but to provide information on safety, saving money and illuminating the world. He may not be masked or traveling around on a bolt of light, but in my book, he is an electric super hero.

Abbeville Electric is located at 320 South State Street in Abbeville. For more information on their products and services call 337-898-2922.

Pictured: Steve Hebert and Rob Roy

Strengh to Give Other Strength

My mother has recently decided that the best way to spend her time is by telling me what to write about. She suggests everything from the chaos in other countries to the swine flu to why people don’t pick up the newspapers in their front yard before noon.

I explain to her with each suggestion that there are only certain things I write about. This doesn’t seem to satisfy her though, and she’ll usually push the subject until something new happens, or I threaten not to take her to sell her aluminum cans.

Her most recent writing suggestion is about a black and white photo that she found while cleaning up her office. It’s from a Carnival Ball at E. Broussard High School from 1937, and shows a king and queen surrounded by children, teenagers and adults.

“Write about this,” she commanded me while she shoved the photo in my face.

“I write about careers and strength,” I explained. “Although it’s sort of a miracle that you’re actually cleaning up your office, the photo doesn’t fit into either of my columns.”

My mother continued to strongly suggest (in ways that she seems to have mastered) that I write about the photo. I told her maybe, hoping that either she’d forget about it, or something new happened, like someone else not picking up their newspaper before noon.

But a couple of weeks ago, my mother made me drive her to Piazza Office Supply in Kaplan to make copies of the photo. Her purpose was to give them to different people who were either in, or knew someone from the Carnival Ball court.

Our first stop was at Mike and Ann Langlinais’ house in Cow Island because Mr. Langlinais’ sister, Laura Lee, was one of the children in the photo. She now lives in Lafayette, but she and her sister, Eugenia Mae just happened to be visiting their brother.

Before long, my mother and I were standing outside on a beautiful day with the three siblings and Mr. Langlinais’ son, Chip. While birds chirped and little dogs played around us like children, Laura Lee stared at the photo and smiled.

“Thank you so much for this picture,” Laura Lee said. “I haven’t thought about it in years.”

I’d spent a lot of time on the Langlinais’ property when I was a kid because of my friendship with their children. Being there a couple of weeks ago brought back many pleasant memories from that time. But the entire moment of catching up with old friends, meeting new people, and Laura Lee’s smile did something to me that I hadn’t expected. It gave me strength.

So here is the photo my mother asked me to be write about. Now everyone has a copy and can take a trip down memory lane. But to be clear, I didn’t write about this because of mother’s strong suggestions, or as some may call, “nagging.”

I wrote about the photo because of the time she took to make copies and share. She didn’t do it for a selfish reason like money or a big bag of aluminum cans. Her act was fueled only by the knowledge that it would bring others happiness, and in turn, give them strength.


Pictured from left to right:

Back Row: Lovelace Hebert, Eula Mae David Phillips, J.N. Greene, Janeverette Mouton Frederick, Raywood Mouton, Wanda Dartez Malden, King Billy Trahan, Queen Lily Mae Greene Morton, Azar David, Zoae Hardy Simon, Earl Dartez, Marie Greene Richard, Earl Couvillon, Rita Richard Mouton

Front Row, Left to Right: Dotsie Langlinais, Raywood Menard, Laura Broussard, Laura Lee Langlinais Pears, Larry Whitmeyer, and Maxie Mae Langlinais Trahan

True Calling Found Under the Hood of Truck

I’ve had many different jobs ranging from selling ties to working at a rice mill to serving Crystal Light and lemon meringue pie at the lunch counter at Woolworth’s. At the start of each new one, I’d hope that I’d found my true calling in life, but they’d all end with disappointment. It wasn’t until I was thirty years old that I realized I was meant to be a writer.

But some people, like Brady Abshire, find their true calling much earlier. Before he was even a teenager, he realized that he was meant to repair moving vehicles.

“My dad bought old cars from the 1930’s and we’d restore them together,” says the younger Abshire. “When I was twelve, my cousin and I repaired a 1978 Ford pick-up truck. It felt like a huge accomplishment, and made me interested in automobiles.”

Brady Abshire began his training at eight years old when he swept floors at his father’s business, Truman Abshire Body and Wrecker. He eventually moved on to painting bumpers on trucks, and worked his way up until he became the owner in 2003.

Located in Abbeville, the business services almost anything involved in a collision, including cars, trucks, boats, mobile homes, tractors, eighteen-wheelers and stretch limousines. They’ll replace glass, reactivate air bags, repair engines, repaint bodies and even remove coffee stains from the carpets.

“We’ve towed vehicles from Texas to Florida,” says Abshire. “The best part of this job is seeing a smile on a customer’s face when they see the work we’ve done.”

All of Abshire’s auto body technicians are certified mechanics. They undergo routine ICAR training and are tested every five years by ASE, Automotive Service Excellence. Their technology includes computerized frame straightening equipment, and a computer and camera combo, which can identify the formula for any color paint.

“We continue to invest in the company,” says Abshire. “We stress education, safety and protecting the environment. We recycle as much as we can including anti-freeze and Freon.”

In the middle of my interview with Brady Abshire, I heard my name being called over a loud speaker. I ignored it at first because I thought I had misunderstood. But then the woman made the announcement louder and I was positive she was talking to me.

“Jacques. Come to the front and bring a shammy.”

At first I wondered if Abshire expected me to work in exchange for his interview. The only collision repair experience I had was with a dented fender on my car. I beat it out with a hammer and then put Band Aids over the chipped paint.

“Did I hear right?” I asked Abshire. “Did some woman just announce that I should go to the front with a shammy?”

“There’s another Jacques that works here,” Abshire said and laughed. “He’s an Hebert.”

Abshire gave me an extensive tour of the shop, where I learned the ins and outs of a collision repair center. I saw the guts of a door panel, and was even able to meet the other Jacques, who was working his way up to become a certified auto-body technician.

In the end, I was very impressed with the friendliness and qualifications of the people who work at Truman Abshire Body and Wrecker. The responsibility the company takes towards protecting the environment, and the importance its leader places on safety and education tells us more than it’s just a well run organization. It tells us that Brady Abshire found his true calling in life under the hood of that 1978 Ford pick-up truck.

For more information on the services offered by Truman Abshire Body and Wrecker, call 337-893-8400. For 24 hour towing, call 337-893-1608.

Pictured Left to Right: Christy Brigola, Phyllis Hebert, Brady Abshire, Melinda Abshire

Strength to Move Forward

One of the most common struggles people face today is maintaining a proper weight. The danger in a few extra pounds here and there is that they begin to add up, and before long can drastically change a person’s life. But it is sometimes easier to accept and accommodate a new body, rather than face the challenge of altering routine and working towards a healthier lifestyle.

So when I heard that Jackie Hebert of Abbeville lost seventy-five pounds in two years, I knew I had to interview her. I wanted to know what triggered her decision to take the long journey involved in changing her life. I needed to hear where she found her strength.

“So many different factors led to my decision to lose the weight,” says Hebert. “But the biggest was that it was my time.”

A couple of years ago, when Hebert was about to turn fifty, her health became a concern. Her father passed away at fifty-three years old from a heart attack, and she knew that her weight put her at risk as well.

“I wanted to be around for my three daughters and the rest of my family,” says Hebert. “I needed more energy to spend time with my grandkids.”

Hebert was given a gym membership for Christmas of 2007, and around the same time her company started hosting Weight Watchers’ meetings. She was also motivated by the fact that her middle daughter promised a cruise for the two of them as a reward for losing fifty pounds.

“The economy also played a role,” says Hebert. “I was afraid I might have to find a new job, and I know that appearance is important.”

In January of 2008, Hebert began going to Health Works in Abbeville twice a day, six days a week. She says that the pounds began to immediately melt away, which motivated her to keep up with her workouts.

“I was an athlete in high school and knew that exercise was the best way to lose the weight,” says Hebert. “I’m a routine person and knew I had to fit health into my schedule if I was going to be committed.”

According to Hebert, the hardest part about starting her exercise program was the muscle soreness. But she soon discovered the swimming pool, which helped relax both her mind and body.

“The gym has become a second home to me,” says Hebert. “The people at Health Works have been very supportive and are now a part of my life.”

The benefits for Hebert have been more energy, new friends and positive feedback from her family. Her advice to someone who wants to get in shape is to do it for them self, and to find an outlet they enjoy.

“I love swimming,” says Hebert. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t continue with my exercise program.”

One of the obstacles that Hebert faced in her journey towards a healthier lifestyle is eating properly. Since Weight Watchers no longer hosts meetings at her office, she lost the support of a diet consultant. She has, however, made a new goal to get into the mindset of planning her meals, and to lose another forty pounds.

“Where will you get the strength to change your life once again?” I asked Hebert when I interviewed her.

“By remembering where I was, and reminding myself of where I am now,” says Hebert. “This will give me the strength to move forward.”

My Mother's Make Over

One of the best parts about writing this column is that I get to have new and unusual experiences. I learned how to shuck an oyster, avoided getting a job on an alligator farm and gave my mother an inside look at the cutthroat business of recycling aluminum cans. This week I tried my hand at being a make-up artist.

It was a cold and cloudy morning when my mother and I drove to Abbeville for our latest job interview. We’d normally be drinking coffee at that time, but because of a busy week, I’d had to make an early appointment. It was evident that we hadn’t had time to fully wake up yet, because sleep filled the corners of my eyes, and there was a faint mark of a pillowcase zipper on the side of my mother’s cheek.

“Why are you interviewing Merle Norman?” my mother asked.

“I’m interviewing Anne Eleazar,” I answered. “She’s the owner of the store that sells Merle Norman cosmetics.”

Originally opened in 1988 by Eleazar’s mother, the little green store sits on the corner of the historic streets of North Jefferson and West St. Victor Street in Abbeville. In addition to makeovers and free make-up lessons, Merle Norman’s product line includes twenty-six blushes in three forms, over seventy-five different foundation choices and approximately thirty shades of lipstick.

“I came to work for my mom after I graduated from college,” says Eleazar. “I loved it so much that I’m still here after twenty years.”

According to Eleazar, skin care plays an important part in how good your make-up is going to look. She suggests washing your face every morning and evening, using sunscreen and moisturizer daily, and exfoliating weekly.

“The biggest mistake women make is choosing the wrong make-up,” says Eleazar. “Everyone is an individual, so they should test their cosmetics before they buy them.”

Eleazar’s favorite part of her job is the interaction she has with the customers. She enjoys helping them look their best because it seems to improve their mood.

“My most memorable customer was a little girl with cancer who needed some make-up for her dance recital,” says Eleazar. “She looked so sad at first, but after I gave her a make-over, she couldn’t stop smiling.”

After I asked my last question, I looked around the shop for a job I could work. The walls surrounding me had pictures of giant lipsticks, compacts and women looking down and laughing. It made me feel ashamed as if I’d accidentally stepped into the ladies bra and underwear section at a department store.


“Most men are afraid to come in here,” Eleazar said. “Are you okay? You look uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “It’s just a little early.”

I lied. It was time to do a job and the only one I could think of was to put make up on my mother. I began to wish I’d taken the job on the alligator farm.

But a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. So with a little foam pad, I applied blush to my mother’s cheeks, covering the faint mark of the pillowcase zipper.

“You put too much,” my mother told me as we drove away from Merle Norman. “I look like a clown.”

The sun started shining and I got a better look at the makeover I’d given to my mother. She had two red cheeks like a Raggedy Ann doll, or Mrs. Claus.

“Ms. Eleazar was right,” I said and laughed out loud. “Going to Merle Norman does put a person in a better mood.”

For more information on the services and products offered by Anne Eleazar at Merle Norman call 337-893-8463.

Strength for a Healthy Mind and Body

There are many mornings when my body wakes up before my mind. Sometimes a cup of coffee or a shower will make me more alert, but physical exercise usually works best. Even though I know this, I can’t always find the strength to break a sweat.

Something else I know is the importance of making the right food choices. My favorite meal in the world is fried chicken, but after I eat it, my body feels drained and exhausted. Yet I’ll get a six-piece dinner with a biscuit and battered fries and feast on it as if competing in a Popeye’s eating contest at a parish fair.

Everyone is entitled to a little gluttony, and rest and relaxation now and then. But how do we ensure that we don’t enjoy the world’s pleasures too much? Where do we find the strength to stay on track towards a healthy mind and body?

Vermilion Parish resident, Carl Hollier is a living example of the power of maintaining a healthy lifestyle. He started his business, Olympus Wellness and Fitness, with his wife Julie, back in 1981 when he was only eighteen years old.

“At that age, you have no fears,” says Hollier. “I felt invincible because I had no huge responsibilities except for the business.”

Hollier always had an interest in fitness, so when he graduated from high school, he pursued his dream. But as he built his business, he also grew in other areas. In addition to raising two children with his wife, Julie, he also received an undergraduate degree in Pre-law, and a Masters degree in exercise physiology. He currently teaches special education at Gueydan High School.

“My family is my number one priority,” says Hollier. “My responsibility to them kept me focused on staying healthy and accomplishing my career goals.”

According to Hollier, there is nothing closer to the fountain of youth than exercise. Strength training prevents bone loss and can also aid in lowering fever due to illness.

“The right exercise program can reduce injuries and keep people healthy,” says Hollier. “But nutrition is equally important.”

Hollier suggests a balanced diet of complex carbohydrates, proteins and unsaturated fats. These can be found in brown rice and beans, chicken and fish, and a variety of nuts like almonds and walnuts.

“A whole grain cereal with low fat milk is a great way to start your day,” says Hollier. “The complex carbohydrates will give you the energy to get through your morning.”

Hollier says that a reputable fitness trainer will listen to the customer’s goals and chart their progress. He/she should teach how to eat healthy rather than sell, “get fit quick,” products.

“Make sure your exercise program is designed to reduce injuries,” says Hollier. “Nothing is overnight. You’re not going to look like Arnold Schwarzenegger in thirty days.”

Hollier says the best part about working at Olympus Wellness and Fitness are the clients. His most memorable one was a man named Mr. Montgomery who exercised until the day he died.

“You’ve run a successful company for almost thirty years while raising children, getting your masters degree and teaching school,” I said to Hollier when I interviewed him. “Where did you get your strength?”

“Knowledge,” he said. “I learned as much as I could about health and fitness. This and my wonderful family gave me strength.”

I am a firm believer that physical exercise is a major component of being mentally healthy. Use your newfound knowledge and find your strength today.

For more information on the services offered by Olympus Wellness and Fitness call 337-643-6069.

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