When I finished my last tortuous rambling marathon, I was fairly upset with a group of physicians! The events that have transpired since then, very much, remind me of being diagnosed with Tourette Syndrome at the age of 44. That was such a medical mystery and puzzling time in my life, so how could something so very similar be happening to me again? I will go over the details a bit later, but I felt that mentioning it here was essential to restart.
I am trying to touch on each of the areas of St. Mary Parish where I once made my home. There are differences, no matter how subtle, within each portion of the parish. I have always liked to refer to the Centerville and Verdunville area as "The Twin Cities" in St. Mary Parish. These two villages (or unincorporated communities) adjoin one another. Centerville is primarily where Caucasians live, and Verdunville is primarily where Mulattos live. I, of course, straddled the fence!
I recall a conversation I had with the late Corbett Peltier one day shortly after I had opened for business in the "Twin City" area. He was the owner of a food store in Centerville, and I was asking his advice about offering credit to the public. His advice was pretty much "Black and White!" "You can trust most of the "Whites" but do not trust any of the "Blacks!" If I had taken his advice, I would have missed out on an entire dimension of my life!
Not unlike "Bayou Sale", the "Twin Cities" are a quite closely woven pair of communities. This is another place in the world where people pull together rather than against one another! Mr. Peltier, at the time of our conversation, was very independent and financially successful. He may not have been the most popular man around, but I doubt that bothered him at all.
When the decision was made as to whether or not I would extend credit to people of this area, I needed only to look into my own personal family history for the answer that would best serve me. As I said before, we were among the poorest white families in St. Mary Parish. Therefore, It was really a "no-brainer" for me to, at least, give everyone a chance to prove whether or not they were credit worthy. This required quite a risk on my part, but one that would ultimately prove to be the correct choice. The folks who proved to be unworthy of trust revealed themselves very quickly, so my losses were minimized.
Over the years, it became clear that credit worthiness was especially important to the "Black" families that I had business dealings with. The easiest way to impugn their integrity was to imply that they were not worthy of trust! The "White" community was comprised of people who had better paying jobs, and it was quite a bit easier for them to meet their financial obligations. That, in no way, meant that all "White People" were worthy of trust! It is indeed experience that has taught me that "Niggers" come in all colors! The color difference is quite obvious in Louisiana, but here in this region of Arkansas, all of the "Niggers", that I know, are "White!"
The "Mulattos" of Verdunville are primarily of French/Black heritage, and many of these people are as white or whiter than myself, and some are as black as the ace of spades. Whichever the case might be, if I had chosen to alienate myself from them, I REALLY WOULD have "Missed The Dance!" The folks in Verdunville are, without a doubt, the best neighbors I ever had the privilege of knowing!
Pellerin and Verdun are probably the most common family names in Verdunville, and many of them have enhanced the cause of integration. Interracial marriages are common, and the children of these marriages are suffering the consequences of social prejudice. This is unfortunate, but this is not a perfect world in which we live!
Each fall when the sugar cane is being harvested, mice somehow find their way into people's homes. I remember one particular year Joan and I competing with Leila Pellerin in catching the most mice. Her husband, Terry, was not involved in the competition, because it was Leila who came into the pharmacy quite frequently, and it was she and I who started the race. Joan always ran the "Trap Line" in our house, and Leila did so in their house. It has been quite a few years since that event transpired, however, I think we edged her out 32 to 31. It was a very good year for mice!
There are many Cajuns and Dagos in St. Mary Parish that coexist with the white race and the black race. The Cajuns or (Coonasses) and the Italians or (Dagos) have much in common, and inevitably, they also intermarry. Both are Roman Catholic, extremely passionate, and have rich family tradition.
There is also an Indian Reservation at Charenton, which is also a small community in St. Mary Parish. The tribe to which I am referring is the Chitamacha Indians. They are the owners of the Cypress Bayou Casino on the reservation. You will notice on page two of the photos number 73, the right tackle. This is Leslie Proctor, and he is an example of one of the Chitamacha Indians with whom I attended high school. Leslie married a white girl named Judy Delcambr, and their union became the first interracial marriage in St. Mary Parish history. To the best of my knowledge, they are still married and are living prosperously on the reservation. It is ironic that the white man placed the Indians on reservations, which were largely undesirable places to live, and now they are quickly getting even by taking the white man's money away through the casinos that they operate on the various reservations throughout America.
When I worked as a pharmacist at Franklin Foundation Hospital, many years ago, I remember a couple of incidents that tie some of this together. One night, I was just hanging around the E.R. with Ruth McGraw (The E.R. Nurse) when an ambulance came in with a ball of mud aboard. Ruth and I worked on the ball for a few minutes before I realized who the ball of mud was. Ruth got several sheets with which to clean up the muddy blob. She used one to wipe his ass with one sweeping motion, and she just laughed as she remarked "Liquor Shit!" As we got to the area of this man's head, I realized that it was one of my former school friends. He was nearly unconscious, and he had been thrown out of his vehicle into a ditch full of mud! I peered down at him and asked, "Chief," is that you?" He was barely able to open his eyes, and I don't even think that he recognized me. He had a couple of broken ribs, and he stayed in house for a day or so before being released. Come to think of it, I can't remember ever seeing him again!
One Christmas, about midday, I was just hanging around the E.R. talking with Vic Feske, M.D. Very shortly an ambulance pulled up with one very drunk passenger. The boy was a "Dago" friend of mine, and for personal reasons, I will not reveal any names here. This boy was indeed unconscious as a result of an all night Christmas Eve Drinking Binge! Vic has a pretty dry sense of humor, and he seemed to enjoy what he was about to do. He got a 50cc syringe fitted with an 18-gauge needle and filled the syringe with a 50% glucose solution. He was careful not to look at the man's face as he began pushing the solution into a vein in his arm. He simply said, "I don't know if it's the 50% glucose or the 18 gauge needle, but this usually brings them around!" Just about that moment the man's eyes popped wide open! He did not know where he was or how he got there! A short time later his young "Cajun" bride and her mother arrived at the hospital to assess the injuries. I tried to appear invisible, since everyone involved was a friend of mine! I damned sure did not want to get into the middle of this Christmas battle! This could have rivaled the Jews and the Palestinians at such a joyous time in Jerusalem.The two ladies did not stay very long, and the young "Cajun" bride, along with her mother, left quite "Pissed!"
I am fairly certain that that was not the only Christmas dinner this young man missed, and I certainly do not intend for this to be misconstrued, in any way, as being humorous! Alcoholism/Drug Addiction is a very serious problem in our society today, and it is in no way a pleasant disease for anyone to be unfortunate enough to live with. I do not distinguish between the two, because alcohol is one of the most debilitating drugs used by mankind. Alcohol is readily accessible, and it has been glamorized unjustly in our society. "Chemical Dependency" is a more broadly encompassing term, and it was classified by the American Medical Association sometime during the '50s as a "Chronic, Progressive, and Terminal Disease." The disease is treatable, but if left untreated, it is 100% fatal. Chemical dependency is really a family illness, and it tends to have a very negative impact on each family member, Genetics could very likely be the cause in most cases, therefore it tends to resurface in future generations.
An emergency room can be a fun place to hang out at times, particularly when the moon is full! This is when things get to hopping, and anything can happen at any given minute. On one particular night, one of the regulars arrived via ambulance suffering from AVD (Acute Valium Deficiency)! Ruth McGraw did not even let the ambulance folks unload this black woman; she simply hopped through the rear doors of the ambulance and injected this woman with 10mg of Valium I.M. through her corset, underwear, etc. The entire procedure only took about ten seconds, and she told them to haul her back to her house!
Ruth was an old Army Nurse, and regrettably she died while having routine surgery. Her doctor neglected to check her electrolytes, and she died needlessly because of a low potassium level!
About ten years later I was appointed to the Board of Commissioners at Franklin Foundation Hospital, and I served in that capacity for about ten more years. This was a very turbulent time, and the board members were sued several times over staff physician issues. It was at this point in time that I developed a sense of disdain for many physicians. This is not to say that I do not have quite good relationships with many doctors, but it is to say that there are many that I have completely no use for! I have had my fill of the God complex that is pervasive in the medical profession, and needless to say, no respect for that type of an individual
One physician tried to take control of the hospital's administration, and he found out that he would need to do so over my dead body! I'm still alive, so I guess I don't need to finish that story! One doctor tried to set another one up for a medical mal practice suit; that took many hours of hearings with lawyers, etc. However, I did whatever I thought was right for the hospital, and let the chips fall where they should! The doctor who was wrong got what he deserved. The one that did not deserve the mal practice suit just may have deserved something even worse! Two black doctors sued us, they were both wrong, and they got what they deserved! This was a thankless job, it paid no money, and I lost customers who found it necessary to align themselves with the opposite parties involved. However, again, "It's My Life, I Could have missed the Pain, but I Would have Missed the Dance!"
| Reflections, page 1 |
Reflections, page 2 |
Reflections, page 3 |
Reflections, page 4 |
| Reflections, page 5 |
Reflections, page 6 |
Reflections, page 7 |
Reflections, page 8 |
| Reflections, page 9 |
Reflections, page 10 |
Reflections, page 11 |
Reflections, page 12 |
| Reflections, page 13 |
Reflections, page 14 |
Reflections, page 15 |
|
