Florent and Agnes Angelle Hardy Family Memorial Honoring Annie Hardy Calais

Established by

Dr. Florent “Pon” Hardy, Jr.

“Pon” and Aunt Annie Annie Hardy Calais Memorial Donors

Dr. Florent “Pon” Hardy, Jr. Mary Hardy dela Houssaye Belleau Henry Charles Taylor Rod and Betty Roy

A Selection of Annie Hardy Calais’ Personal Family Memoires Compiled by Nephew Florent “Pon” Hardy, Jr., Ph.D. September 2016

July 26, 1927 – April 2, 2020 ~~~Contents~~~

Mama’s Family in

Genealogy Summary Written by Annie

My mother Adelaide Blasia Pelafigue Hardy, beloved doesn't begin to say it!

As Daughter

Earliest Remembrances of Child Experiences

Growing Up

Mai Babelles

World’s Fair (1924)

Tante

La Gross Guerre

Social of Sorts

Extras

Memories of All Saints Day in the 1930s

A Selection of Annie Calais’ Personal Family Memoires Compiled by Florent “Pon” Hardy, Jr., Ph.D. September 2016

Mama’s Family in France

Notes from Mr. J. P. Nogaret from research conducted by Mr. Guy Cassagnet 65490-, France. Telephone (62) 35-31-23. No date.

The origin of your family stems from , a village at the of the . Your grandmother, Adelaide, was born there on November 22, 1881. Her father, Jean- Marie Pelafigue, was born at St. Pastous; a charming village of the pastoral zone, near Argelez-Gazhoste and Beaucens. He came to Beaucens to marry Melanie Pere, and lived there with his wife in a beautiful home in this beautiful country called . This house is still standing. The couple had five children, of which your grandmother, Adelaide, was one. Following misfortune, Jean-Marie left for a new location in close proximity to Argelez-Gazhoste. He and his children then immigrated to the United States in 1886. He lived in Louisiana, but, being nostalgic for his native country, he returned to France in 1920. He died in St. Pastous, his native village, and was buried there. The people of St. Pastous still remember him. Adelaide’s mother, Melanie, had a sister, Irene, who married Mr. Lie. They had a son named Dominique, who is still living. He is 82 years old, and although his physical capabilities are limited, his memory is intact. He still remembers his first cousins’ departure to America, and he awaits the return of his cousins. His son, Regis Lie, is married and has three children (a boy and two girls). He lives in Beaucens, and is 35 years old. His family enjoys a simple lifestyle, but they are very hospitable. He would be delighted to meet you, but as with all modest and reserved rural people, he does not dare take the first step. Here is their address: Monsieur et Madame Regis Lie Hameau de Vielle 65400-Beaucens (France)

Genealogy Summary Written by Annie

Jean Marie Pelafigue, my Grandpere, crossed the Atlantic with his family to come to America in the late 1880s. I remember Mama telling me that her family, the Pelafigues, left Beaucens France when she was approximately three and a half years old. Grandpere and his wife, Melanie Pere Pelafigue settled in LA because friends and relatives had moved here and the prospect of acquiring land on which to grow sugar cane and join the old friends was what brought them here. The region in France where they lived was mountainous and the family raised sheep; they came to Arnaudville, along the beautiful Bayou Teche.

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Their five children were Marie, Donatien, Adelaide, Auguste and Emily. Three of the children married; Marie to an Hebert, Donatien to a Miller and Adelaide married my Papa, H. Hardy in 1904. Auguste and Emily were never married. I remember the excitement in the 30’s when the cousins and friends from Lake Charles and surrounding areas would visit. Joseph Pelafigue visited often, and the Laportes, Puegeots and Domecs that I recall. My grandfather received a newspaper, La Beye (Bee) from France regularly. His neighbor Marcelan Domec always came by to read it. Mama talked often of the many stories her father and mother related to her about their native France. Although she was young when she came to America, she related many stories to me. She told me how the Pyrenees were magnificent. The crossing of the Atlantic was traumatic and she recalled a burial at sea. She remembered the body on a board being slid into the sea. Mama’s mother’s maiden name was Pere. Her mother, Melanie Pere Pelafigue died young and is buried n an unmarked tomb in the Arnaudville cemetery. Jean Marie borrowed a wagon from Amilcar R… to bring his wife’s body to the cemetery. He went alone. There were many Peres in Abbeville. Once Grandpere’s family was settled he longed to go back to France, his homeland. He entrusted his youngest, unmarried daughter Emily to Papa and Mama. Papa told me that he promised him that “Tante” as Emily was called, would not have to work in the field because she had asthma. We were the lucky ones to have Tante in our home. She worked side by side with Mama and Papa to rear 12 children. She was like a second mother to my brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews and children. She became a friend; Tante was terrific. Final preparations were made for Grandpere to go back to France. The family gathered at the Southern Pacific depot in Arnaudville to bid him farewell. The Southern Pacific train passed parallel to Papa’s property. Mama remembered every detail of that day. He wore a white shirt and black hat. He stood on the caboose waving a white handkerchief and they waved back as long as he was in sight. Finally, the track curved and he disappeared. The family felt the loss and sadness of never seeing him again. Jean Marie never returned to LA again. He died in France. He is buried in St. Pastous, France. We keep in touch with remaining cousins whom some of us have met. It was always Mama’s dream to go back to France, but she never did. Her father told the story of the many times he walked to Lourdes. Mama had a special religious upbringing and she was full of stories of Lourdes. She read every article in the newpaper about France, and during WWII, three of her sons were in France, helping defend her homeland. She had 4 stars in her front door because another son was in the Pacific. Auguste, our uncle, lived in a two room home near ours. Known to all of Arnaudville as Nonco, he spent his life spreading devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. All of us made our debut in acting on that stage in reciting a poem, waving a flag, acting out a play and singing. He traveled on foot to Leonville, Bushville, Coteau Rodaire, Huron and Cecilia to round up the children for his plays. On the Feast of the Sacred Heart, everybody showed up. He organized and promoted the League of the Sacred Heart. Every month he hand delivered the leaflets to those who did not pick them up after mass. He went to all the masses on Sundays and walked to all the weekday masses as well.

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Papa was proud of his family. He was the kind willing to stand in the background and lend a hand whenever we needed one. In the old days he woke at 2 in the morning during the dead of winter, hitched the old horse to the wagon and set out for Opelousas on Friday morning. He always had fresh fish to sell at his fish house. In 1987, my sister, Sister Rita Hardy, a nun with the Marianites of Holy Cross, spent a year at one of their convents in LeMans, France. She wrote to tell how the ride between LeMans and was picturesque. She saw hills and valleys, green and yellow fields. In August she rode to Lourdes and Beaucens. One cousin, Regis Lie’s mother, now nearing 90, embraced her and welcomed her to the old homestead. It was an emotional experience to visit the home where Mama was born. The cousins brought her to visit the grave of our Grandpere, Jean Marie. Her visit to Mama’s homeland was short, but the many letters and photographs and literature she shared with the family during her year’s stay made it possible for us to journey to Mama’s homeland. She always wrote back home to us; I think of you, you would love it here.

My mother Adelaide Blasia Pelafigue Hardy, beloved doesn't begin to say it!

Mornings we faced the rising sun and said the "morning offering" to God. We were twelve in the family so prayer was said by groups as we readied for school or work. Mama worked hard with a gentle air, helping each as we needed. Big meals were served by Mama and "Tante" an aunt who lived with us, while Papa worked. After school we were welcomed with the smell of fresh homemade baked bread, fresh cream and sugar. Our home had beautiful holy pictures and Catholic magazines throughout. Sunday and weekday masses were our mainstay because God was made real to us by her example. ...I remember her small parterre, flower garden, that smelled of jasmine, soft pink roses trailing over the old bob-wired fence, a grapevine, wisteria, a peach tree, and unkempt grass...today I remember Mama in the blue moonlight as we sat there , watched fireflies and sang together. Annie Hardy Calais.

As Daughter

My mother, Adelaide Pelafigue, was a French immigrant who came to America from Beaucens, Archelez-Gashoste, a picturesque southern French village located in the slanted green pastures of the Pyrenees Mountains approximately twenty miles from Lourdes. Mama was about three when she crossed the ocean. The story I remember best about the crossing is the one her mother told her often. Her mom said she worked day and night to keep her family well, because as other people died, they were buried at sea. After a safe crossing the family settled in Arnaudville, Louisiana, because of the rich farmland. Mama went to school through the third grade, but she surpassed in learning through continued reading in both French and English. She read all of our school books, subscribed to many periodicals and helped all of her children. Mama raised her family as Catholics. She was up early every morning sending someone off to mass. Her special day for mass was on Tuesday, a day devoted to Saint Anthony of Padua. We lived only one mile away from the church, but our trips were not easy. We walked to church through dusty dirt roads or mud. Sometimes Papa, who was at work before daybreak, sent back a truck for those going to mass.

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An older brother, Florent, tells the story of the flood of 1927. When Mama and the smaller children climbed in a small boat to head on to Opelousas and higher grounds she told him, “Florent, you’re staying home, but be sure you keep a pair of pants up high and dry and get to mass in the morning.” When morning came, Florent got into his small canoe (pirogue), rowed right up to the church steps and served at mass. He and the priest were the only two there that day. We loved Mama dearly! To this day we attend mass as often as possible, always remembering her example. Late afternoon found neighborhood boys and girls joining her children and grandchildren for catechism lessons she taught in French. She read short religious articles or told impressive stories that held our interest. Her excellence in storytelling kept us spellbound. We learned so much in those memorable sessions. These stories were so true to me that I half expected that one day she and I would visit St. Elizabeth. I remember winter evenings when Papa sat in his rocker in the great room, and Mama would call us all to come to the grande chambre. Groans and moans could be heard from the boys’ room. Someone had just started to read a True Detective. Mama often said le livre nous dit the Good Book tells us. Sister Rita often says that because of Mama’s example, spiritual reading time was nothing new to her when she entered the convent. Mama kept her own library and handed out articles according to our interests. We were always encouraged to read good and uplifting literature. Mama had a large chicken population in the back yard. When she spoke of it, she call it ma basse court, court meaning yard. Our family ate the best chicken diners ever prepared in Cajun country. In those days chickens got sick. Mama would sit on a stoop, catch a chicken by the leg, and examine its eyes. Sometimes she proclaimed that this one ah la PP, which was a cloud over the eyes. She took her eye dropper and bottle of medicine, put drops in the eyes, then lifted the chicken high in the air. It flew away squawking and cured. We had a small triangle shaped back porch that held a shelf with water basins. My brothers washed their hair there on Saturdays and Mama walked back and forth from the hand powered water pump with pitchers of water to rinse their hair. Mama roasted the coffee in the oven. Just the smell gave us a perk. Next, I’d grind it in the grinder that was fastened to the wall. To make the coffee in the drip pot, the water had to be “boiling”. One at a time a cupful of boiling water was poured over the grounds. Sister Rita remembers the time when she forgot to pour and tried to do this in quick succession. The minute Mama drank her coffee, she could tell what happened. “It has to be done slowly.” Papa ran a fresh seafood and ice house business. Mama and Tante cooked the best meals of fresh fish and yard chickens. For dessert they whipped egg whites with sugar until stiff, placed this over crackers then placed these in the oven until the meringue turned a golden brown. Pralines, des gateaux cero, syrup cake and des petits gateaux seck were cooked in abundance. At times we found little ants in the sugar. We always reacted with alarm, but Mama would say, “not to worry. Annie, take the sugar and put it in the sun.” I did and even as I watched, the ants filed out of the sugar bowl. Other times sugar was scarce, and we called out “The cush cush is not sweet.” Mama replied, “Stir. The sugar is at the bottom of the bowl.” All the spoons stirred and we believed.

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Earliest Remembrances of Childhood Experiences

My life is filled with flickering images of childhood memories. My earliest recollections are cozy and warm feelings of happy and cheerful people who surrounded me with love. The kitchen and dining room combination-wing was always the center of lively activity and conversation. The many windows and doors provided us with an inviting, cheerful and sun-lit atmosphere. The delicious aroma of Mama’s cooking is one of my favorite memories. Biscuits and sweet potatoes were baked by the dozen. I was the youngest of twelve children and had an aunt who lived with us in the Hardy family. I was always literally and figuratively looking up to one of the fifteen members of my household. I realize, now, they were my heroes and I idolized them. I had so many to look up to. One and all played a big part in my up-bringing. They became role models and I was so proud of them. My wonderful mother had an inner beauty and outer warmth that touched me deeply. She nurtured my soul with constructive and positive moral values. She dutifully and faithfully watched over the mental and spiritual growth of her large family. I loved to hear her pray out loud. Her deep devotion to my father and her children was admirable. I learned so much at my mother’s knees. My father was a man of few words, but when he spoke the life and love radiating from within would bless those around him. He showed great tolerance and patience in the sacrifice of hard work that comes in providing for such a large family. He was a devoted family man of simple, but humble heritage (or beginnings). My fondest memory of him was the happiness I felt when he came home after a hard-working day. My parents complimented each other and gave us roots of self-worth and belonging. My brothers gave birth to my many dreams and fantasies. They were hard working, jovial, encouraging, understanding and giving. They were always sharing their modest allowance with me. I always felt their unspoken warmth beneath their macho image. My sisters were my idols. They were loving, supportive, protective and a source of inspiration and pride. They remain the light and sparkle of endearing memories in my life. We were a close-knit, deep-rooted Catholic family. We enjoyed ourselves amid the struggles and hardships, through education and example, good communication and prayer. Family gathering for prayer time was a daily practice/ritual. We were survivors. Faith and love led the way. In chronological order, I wish to express words that but describes my siblings, as I remember them. Erminee: cheerful attitude, loved life, spread joy, good outlook on life, prayerful Leon: kind hearted, righteous man, compassionate, committed family man, hard worker, lovable, caring Remi: deceased infant-my heavenly angel Bruno: affectionate teaser, worldy traveler, well liked and loved, special grin, gleaming eyes Sam: calm silence, quiet gentleness, loving kindness Florent: generous, patient, considerate, good man, hard worker Antoine (Blue): smiling blue eyes, active life, adventurous, humorous, hard worker

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Marie: sensitive, hard worker, devoted mother, spiritual Remy: a Christian, dreamer, loner, a wanderer, deep set eyes Abel: strong convictions, conversationalist, spiritual philosopher, hard worker Rita: religious nun, good Samaritan, a giving person, beautiful smile, deep interior spiritual life, a welcome presence Annie: avid adventurous, enthusiastic “joe de vivre” positive inspiring attitude, fun- good time person, love of God and family, happy outlook (simply said, a lovable, likable person) Tante: guardian to all, a life of self-service and sacrifice that translated into love

Flickering flashed of earlier years Outside, hand powered water pump Coziness and warmth of our barn Horses and mules Chickens, pigs and geese/chicks Bales of hay Dry corn, corn grinder for feed Manual coffee grinder, coffee beans Wagons, plows, farming equipment, charrette, house tools Fields of cotton, corn, sugar cane and potatoes Vegetable garden, fig, pear and peach trees Parteaur (Mama’s lovely colorful garden) Seus fleur grape vine Fish nets (made at home) Firewood Sugar cane lifters for loading trucks and wagons Weighing deck for sugar cane Bench and wash tubs (washing by washboard and by hand)\ Outside black pot-for boiling water, make soap, boucheries, soaking clothes Religious statues and pictures The warmth of a fireplace A large duffle bag of material remnants High tables for scaling fish Underground covered cistern Outside outhouse (double one) Chicken coup – plenty of eggs Butter churner – Caye ya goo ta Ice cream maker Beautiful oak trees and pecan trees (shady and cool) Tree swings –tire swings hung from heavy rope Beautiful climbing purple wisteria vine “Rose of Montana vine” Choice of back, side and front porch Porch swings, rockers, benches Delivered ice – ice box Screened porch Ice cooler with tin cup on top cover

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Marbles, kites Oil lamps, candle light Smoke fog to kill mosquitoes The smell of fresh rain after a long drought Looking for rainbows – gazing at clouds, gazing at stars Spools of thread necklace Corn cob dolls Clothes pin dolls Cherry bound tree Skipping rope Hop-scotch Playing jacks Chinese checkers Playing cards (casino, fish, solitaire) Paddle ball Other words of expression for family; Enthusiastic Free spirit Energetic Responsible Trustworthy Closeness Enduring Family Unity Soul Mate Confidante Righteous Sense of Kinship Healing Caring Steward of Life Pious Devout Roots of Belonging Satisfying Acceptance Outgoing Friendly

Mother: To use the expression I’ve often heard: “Everyone is rich who has a godly mother” best describes my mother or “The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.” My mom ruled my world with a deepening love that has been a great influence in my live and those I love. She was truly “a woman of substance.” My mother’s third grade education and her interest in world affairs were prominent. Father: Meek and humble, my friend my pal, super sincere, plain and simple, no frills. Sunrise deep, rose at dawn, dusty roads, delivering ice in his horse driven wagon, horse driven school bus. Christmas: fire crackers (bamboo poles with knots) riding in back of truck (traumatic)

Florent remembers having to milk five cows early in the morning. He got a sore on his toes from ammonia surrounding the ice. He scratched it with bitter weeds and it made a sore so deep that you could see the bones. Medicine: Epsom salt and patate fleur vine with big thick leaves.

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Growing Up

In living out the seasons of my life there are memorable moments and vignettes that come to mind. Growing up in the thirties brought serious times, varied joys, fun time and good humor. School Days: When I started grade school, I was as happy to get out of the yard as Wood was to come out from under the house. I spoke only French at the time, but was undaunted. My first grade teacher taught me to read in English. She disciplined me by hitting my fingertips with a ruler. My second grade teacher stirred up an excitement in the classroom because her beau visited her in our classroom. They sat on her desk and talked while the class look on in admiration. The strictest disciplinarian in school came next. She pulled everybody’s hair. One day she criticized my shoes saying they were too fanciful. She informed everyone they were improper and would make my high arch even worse. The shoes were multiple thin straps belonging to a much older sister. My excitement over these shoes died when they came under attack. Up until that day I had worn bulky brown serviceable shoes. In the fourth grade our teacher promised to take us to see “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” if we made a 100 on a 100 word spelling test. I studied day and night. I missed three words. I never saw that show until recently. It left a mark on me. In the fifth grade Mama bought me a brown raincoat that looked like a boy’s coat. When I got home from school that day, I had someone else’s coat. All the alarms went off. I was devastated until the exchange with one of the boys the next day. Field Trip: My first and furthest out-of-town visit was in the seventh grade when I went on a field trip to the State Capitol in Baton Rouge. Mama pinned my name and address inside my shirt in case I got lost. We walked into the large rotunda and the first person I saw was brother Florent. He gave me a quarter and my happiness surpassed everything just to see him so far from home. Bomb Dropped: A bomb dropped in that same year when my seventh grade teacher told us there was no Santa Claus. I carried this news home. It brought down my mother’s wrath. My Papa’s seafood and ice house was across the street from the school yard. Every day Papa picked up prepared food Mama had fixed in a tin bucket for my brothers, sister and myself. Tin plates and forks were handed out. I got pushed around because I was the smallest and feared there would be none left for me. But they took care of me and served my share. Across the fence from school someone put up a one room building and sold rabbit gumbo for a nickel. Some days I had a coin and had a hot meal. Visor Time: When it was homework time I sat at the big dining room table to do my homework by lamplight. Mama made me a visor cap to protect my eyes from the glare of the light. Party in the Parterre: In my lifetime, I had one birthday party when I was nine years old. I wore a blue dress and received a handkerchief and a few coins. My few guests and myself played games in the parterre and were served lemonade and cake. For the first time in my life I had a few coins, so I wrapped these up in an old handkerchief and tied the

8 four corners to secure them. That night I tucked them in the corner of the one clothes drawer allotted to me. Bike for Remy: Papa’s ice house was located next to the Missouri Pacific Railroad. He had consented to buy a bike for the two youngest boys. It was ordered from away and every day the boys grew more anxious for its arrival. The school was about twenty yards from the train track. One day Remy, my brother, had his arms on the windowsill looking out the window when the Missouri Pacific approached. The train stopped and he saw a man lift a bicycle out of a train car. He leaped out of the classroom window and called, “My bike has arrived!” The teacher and his classmates watched in amazement as he rode the bicycle up and down the length of the dirt road the remainder of the school day. To fully appreciate this story Remy reminded me of the TV version of Fonzie. Measles Mania: One spring when I was about eight my sister and I had measles. We were kept in a dark, dry room. At the peak of the red dots breakout, a hurricane struck. The rains poured, slashed against the windows, the winds howled and the attic door flew away. Our bed was in the grande chambre and there the ceiling began to leak. As Mama put buckets to catch the rain her fear that we would get wet intensified. One brother, Remy, took his harmonica and blew the blues with a two-fold purpose; to distract Mama and the patients. The fact that the barn directly behind the house was dislodged and rolling toward the house one overturn at a time was now consuming all of Mama’s attention. Rita and I were not supposed to know this, but the whispers and Abel’s wide eyes gave it away. Remy played his harmonica faster and faster. The great room where we were was directly in the barn’s path, so we moved to Papa’s room which was considered dryer and the last to go down when the barn hit us broadside. The wind was so strong the latch to the door of our bedroom broke and the door banged open and shut. Florent and Blue pushed the bed against it. Mama commandeered all the quilts, coats, raincoats and a tarpaulin to throw over us if needed to keep us dry. By this time Mama had turned her attention to sending the boys out to find an ambulance. She was determined to keep us dry that one would have thought there was one on a 24 hour call. That is still a mystery to me because I had never heard of or seen one. It would have had to be horse driven and the dirt roads were impassable. The boys did not have to go out because the barn stopped rolling forward a few yards from the house. My mother’s prayers were answered and we stayed dry. As an addendum, I feel compelled to add the following. Today on a perfectly sunny day you can see me leaving my house with a leopard skin shoulder bag holding a rain hat, rain boots, an umbrella and a raincoat to be sure I stay dry.

Mai Babelles

To play lo-le-lo platte players stood in the yard in the front part of the house and others stood in the backyard of the house. When lo-le-lo platte was shouted out, the players with the ball threw it over the house without touching the roof-top. The trick was to catch the ball before it hit the ground because this earned a point. Be-be-la-trie always drew a large crowd whenever a group gathered around to play this game. Four or five successive holes were dug in the ground for each player. One hole

9 was assigned to each player. Players lined up about six feet away and one rolled a small ball towards the holes hoping it would fall into the hole assigned to the one rolling the ball. When this happened the player picked the ball and tried to touch one of the other players as everyone scattered, ran and whooped. Cache cache la bague or hide the ring was a popular game that was played over and over again. Players sat in a circle and held their hands together. The leader held a ring in his or her clasped hands and walked around to each player as each one made a small opening with their hands hoping to have the ring drop unnoticed into their hands. The players took turns guessing who held the ring and the one who guessed correctly became the new leader. We spent hours lying down under a tree gazing at white cloud formations in the sky. We imagined we saw the shape of a giant, an angel, or some such picture in the white billowed clouds. Ah-cray-der was a game played using the hands. Madame ah cary der my ah ta vuday san te po chum oh bayou are all the words I remember at this time. The leader formed a circular motion inside the hand as he chanted this song, went from one hand to the other circled the hand once and when the chant finished that player was out. Te Ron, te mara, te zo zo po za an don a circle, a round pond, a small bird perched near it. A circle is lightly traced within the small hand, or under a small foot. As the person sings on gently tracing or wiggling a ginger or toe one at a time the singing continues. Sue la la vu, sue la la teray, sue la la pume, sue la la mange, et sue la paw eue pas que e n ava pu pour lieu. This one saw it. This one shot it. This one plucked it. This one ate and and this one cried all the way home because there was none for him. Ta vol lay mon trano You have stolen my sled. Players sing a line substituting a new French word for each verse until words are exhausted. You became a loser when a new word could not be found. Can phones provided many good times as they were substituted for real phones which we had heard about, but never seen. Two tin cans with one end opened had a long string attached to each by piercing a small hole in the closed part with a nail and hammer. Standing far apart the distance of the string, one child held the opened part to the ear and the other child spoke into the opening of the can. We were among the first to stand or sit and talk and laugh into a phone. Pigeon Vol Pigeon flies. The players index fingers are placed down on a knee. The lead player calls out “Birds fly”. It this is correct all the fingers swoop up and above the head. Again the leader calls out “cats fly” and throws up his finger. Those raising their fingers are in error so they receive a “piece nick,” a thump on the forehead with the middle finger and the thumb. These are said rapid fire like in order not to give too much time to think about what is being called out. My hair was cut like a boys because any semblance of curl might make me vain. It was only natural then that I walked around in the parterre or front yard pretending that I had on a long flouncing skirt. I embellished my hair with garlands of flowers, my wrists with more flowers and lived in a make believe world for a little while. I had seen a few movies so I knew how to twirl and I pictured myself as a great beauty. Gros Batoe the leader asks the first player My boat is going to Balise, what do you want me to bring back to you?” The player whispers in an ear “an orange.” Other players

10 take turn to guess what fruit was named. The correct answer earns him a turn to become a leader.

World’s Fair (1924)

Papa’s cousin Jimmy Willis, a congressman, wrote and said Papa could make two hundred dollars if he brought a load of palmettos to Chicago to the World’s Fair. These would be used to make models of African villages. We had an abundance of palmettos in the woods in St. Landry Parish. I can remember going with the boys to cut and load the rented truck. Next morning we were up at 2:00 a.m. with the truck loaded high, the boys and a cousin, Mac Willis, placed one of the moss mattresses on top of the palmetto. Leon drove and we waved good-bye. The back bed was piled high with palmetto; my brothers and cousin headed for Chicago. Papa made a profit of fifty dollars on this venture. He went to Opelousas, asked to order a truck proffering the fifty dollars and offered to mortgage his thirty or forty acres which were clear. The salesman laughed at him. He went straight to Breaux Bridge and repeated his story. The truck dealer agreed and we bought our first Chevy. Papa said it should be ordered with no extras, “stripped” if such a word existed then. When we picked the truck up, it had no seats. We put in two small crates, sat on them and drove away. My brother Florent tells me that they used to build the seats in those days.

Tante

Tante, my aunt, who lived with us, was a selfless and compassionate person who helped rear me and my brothers and sisters like we were her own. She was tireless working ten to twelve hours a day without complaining. Through Tante we really experienced love in action. She was a gentle and admirable aunt. I still get a glimpse of her at that big wood stove. Fresh baked bread was almost a daily ritual. She cooked pots and pots of yard chickens. At the crack of dawn she made coffee and fed our hungry family before each left for school or work. Breakfast was usually cush cush or mush. Tante was constantly washing dishes and tin utensils that rusted if not dried immediately. She kept the counter area covered with a smooth tin sheet, sparkling, scrubbing the sink with a piece of a little red brick to make it shine. The brick bled, and she rinsed it many times over. Tante washed our clothes outside in a galvanized tub on an old wooden bench. She helped gather the wood and built the fire to heat the water in a huge three legged elevated iron black pot outside. The clothes were stirred with a long paddle; she scrubbed them on a washboard. Once rinsed, she hung them neatly on the line. With an overload, some pieces were hung on the barbed wire fence. It was a serious wash with so many in the family. Although she sometimes had help, Tante carried the brunt of this job. One day, it was my turn to help stir the clothes in the boiling black pot. I tipped it over. The clothes landed in the ashes, in the soot, and blackened before my eyes. As Tante used the paddle and I a branch, we lifted the clothes one by one. We started over again; scrub, wash, rinse, boil and stir.

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Tante walked to mass mornings unless a truck was going to town. After mass she collected the altar linens and brought them home to wash by hand in rain water. She cooked a thick starch and starched them. She then put the starched clothes out overnight, weather permitting for the night dew to dampen them. She took them in early and rolled them up. That’s why the boys’ white linen suits, shirts and altar linens never had s wrinkle. Tante ironed them on a straight covered board placed on two chair backs. The black iron she used was heated over a wooden stove. The linen-laced clothes remained spotlessly white. On Saturday afternoons I accompanied Tante on her trips to clean the sacristy for Sunday mass. On our walk to church we collected donated fresh cut flowers from the yards of special ladies. We threw away old blooms and replaced them with fresh flowers. Dusting the elevated pulpit was my favorite job. Tante then changed the altar cloths and swept clean the altar area. Another important duty was preparing the setting for the vigil of Holy Thursday when the Holy Eucharist was placed in a special side altar. First Tante removed the statue of the Blessed Mother from its niche. Tante covered that wall with white sheets. She climbed a ladder as she painstakingly pinned dainty sprigs of fine fern as the background. Colorful flowers were added here and there. A special altar cloth and tabernacle veil were used for this special feast. Because Tante was asthmatic, we sometimes saw her pull a chair at the door to catch a breath. Her treatment plan included a homemade can and saucer utensil from which she inhaled a medicinal aroma made from herbs. In later years she went to a clinic in Biloxi which helped lessen the attacks. Tante’s room was small, but the bed was always made and it was always picked up. The predominant feature was a tall statue of Saint Joseph. First thing in the morning and last at night she could be seen there kneeling in prayer. Often she made an hour of prayer. On summer days Tante and I boarded a wagon to visit Tante Marie, her sister, who lived approximately three miles farther into the country. We harnessed our little white horse, Bie, to a rubber-wheeled small wagon. This wagon picked up many a chicken for church bazaars. We rode on the elevated front seat, flooded with sunshine and warmth. Part of the way we followed the side path of the railroad track and rode at a tilted angle. The rest of the way we raised dust as we drove at a fast clip. Our cousins welcomed us and we had good food and a good time. Near home was an elevated railroad track that crossed over the dirt road not too far away from the house. Evenings found Rita and me stationed at the window to watch for the big truck that had a row of lights on the cab. When it jumped over the tracks, we shouted “They’re coming!” On arrival my brothers and Papa piled out wet and cold. Rita and I held up socks in front of the fireplace to warm them up for the boys. Tante and Mama brought out a granite tub of biscuits, and one night they fried thirty-five eggs. One of my brothers, Beau, was our Clark Gable. He was good looking, had a mustache, was debonair, and his demeanor, his dress were all perfect. We told him he never married because he was too particular. He was the life of a party. Well, Beau went through the trauma of throat cancer when he was about fifty years old. Towards the end he communicated through hand-signs and written messages. I feel that he might have been Tante’s “favorite.” The teasing and the love between them was tangible. When he

12 returned home from Houston, she took care of him. She gave him all the care he needed. During this time her haunting eyes told of the pain she suffered. In spite of his suffering Beau sensed that she needed a distraction. One day a florist truck backed up to the front porch and delivered a truck full of plants and flowers. The porch overflowed. We had never seen such an abundance of anything before. Together, they potted, rooted, and watered. The whole family, children and adults, worked with them and the blooms blossomed. They even tried to grow orchids. Beau bought glass bubble containers, filled them half way with huge colorful marbles and grew plants in water. What a memory! Day in and day out Tante was always at home when needed. Her rare visits consisted of going to church and visiting family for a short time. She had occasional visits with a friend who also brought her to Lafayette to buy material so she could sew her dresses. She visited the presbeterre, the home of the priest and his housekeeper. The housekeeper, a cousin, was a good friend. Other than that, Tante never went to a bar, a movie, a restaurant or a place of entertainment. As far as we know she had one love. He was killed in World War I. We became her family and I believe we made her completely contented. Tante had an unsurpassed generosity of dedication and kindness. I miss her and I remember her with gratitude. Sometimes I pray for her, but mostly I pray to her. Annie H. Calais, February 1995

La Gross Guerre

During World War II Mama had four sons in the service. Our brother Blue, had enlisted in the late 30s and was at Pearl Harbor when the Japanese attacked. That Sunday, December 7, 1941, was a sunny day as I remember. The radio was on because Mama and Papa listened intently to the news because of that black cloud over Europe where the fighting continued in Poland, France, Great Britain, and many small nations were being swallowed up by Germany. Sometime that Sunday morning I heard that the Japanese naval and air forces had launched a surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. A fearful feeling fell on the household because we had no way of knowing if my brother was safe. The following day I went to school and my seventh grade teacher had the radio on when the United States declared war on Japan. Three days later, Japan’s allies, Germany and Italy, declared war on the United Sates, and we declared war on them. We learned later that Blue was not hurt at Pearly Harbor, but three boys from Arnaudville were killed that day. During this period Mama proudly displayed four stars in the window until her boys came home. Many times she sat at that window, prayed and placed a blessed lighted candle under the stars for her four sons: Antoine Blue, Bruno, Remy and Abel. Abel worked to build the air base in Bermuda at the beginning of the war so he joined the Air Force later than most during the war. He was sent to school for a short time in the United States. His first mission was in England where he became a radio technician on aircraft. He was immediately enlisted to help move the planes to France. The type plane Abel was on hauled three gliders back of the plane with a long rope. They had to be careful that the rope did not get tangled. Paratroopers got into the planes and the gliders

13 were filled with soldiers. When they neared their destination they disconnected the gliders from the plane and they glided down. If there was enough altitude, they glided down a long way. At this time the paratroopers bailed out. Abel did not work on one radio set because his superiors discovered that he spoke French and he became an instant interpreter. Abel went out into the countryside with cans of lunch meat that the soldiers could no longer tolerate. In their stead he returned with geese, turkeys, hens and whatever else he could trade so that the boys would have something different to eat. Usually he could get 100 pounds of coffee from the English and trade for two pounds of tea and that made the English happy. Abel says he saw no dead soldiers and about this time the war in Europe ended, Meanwhile my brother Bruno had been fighting in the Battle of the Bulge and once the war ended he read in the periodical “Stars and Stripes” that Abel’s outfit was coming back to America. He tracked down Abel’s division and found it in Belgium. Abel’s camp was called Top Hat and one day while Abel walked around a tent he came face to face with Beau. Beau was well dressed in a smart uniform freshly ironed and had a cap on his head. In his hand he held a gallon of grapefruit juice. Beau told Abel that another brother, Remy, was in Antwerp so Abel called to tell Remy about his location, but someone else answered and took a message. Remy came to visit. This was a large port and ships were being loaded and unloaded. Everyone was subdued because the port was broken to pieces. It had been bombed and destroyed. The only thing moving was the military. It was while inside the ship doing some work on the hundreds of beds chained to a wall Abel heard someone running up the stairs and Remy was calling our “Beau, Beau”. Remy was completely surprised because he thought he was meeting Beau. They spent some time together and Remy was broke so Abel’s pals chipped in and Remy left with three or four kinds of money. My two brothers, Bruno and Remy, were the only two people Abel say that he knew the whole time he was in the service. “Eisenhower was a good man,” Abel told me. These boats readying to come back to America held a thousand beds, but he told the soldiers if they were willing to take shifts sleeping he could send twice the number of soldiers back hone on one voyage. All agreed because some had been fighting for years. Remy was in Iceland during most of the war. There he contracted tuberculosis and came back home a sick and broken man. He was housed in a small trailer behind the house. There were many cold and rainy nights when he called out to Mama. Regardless of the hour, she would wrap herself in a blanked and go to him. She spent countless hours talking, reading, soothing and praying with him. So the family was delighted as one soldier boy after another came home. Bruno, Remy, Abel and Antoine Blue Hardy had participated in liberating my mother’s homeland, her beloved France. Annie H. Calais March 1995

Social of Sorts

As children we received new clothes with wide-eyed wonder because they were so scarce. One September Mama bought material in Lafayette for five cents a yard for Tante

14 to sew. I was so happy to wear it to school. One “friend” asked where I had bought my pretty dress and laughed. Remember the price I confided in my best friend, Wanda Kidder, the actual cost and I still remember she answered, “More power to your Mother for being so thrifty.”

Just ‘a Swinging: Tat, an older sister, and Abel made wine with beets in the barn. Abel laughs when he remembers the stench, because it did not ferment correctly. Swinging and singing on the front porch was non-stop. It was a social of sorts because we watched the cars and cows in the road as we sang, often far into the night. I loved songs such as “On the Isle of Capri” because it was a faraway place and we talked about the people and its culture.

Horse Drawn Carriage: Every school day a horse drawn school carriage passed in front of my house. Picture wooden benches on each side with a heavy canvas rolled up to display laughing faces. The entrance was a step-on board suspended on the rear. My dream was to climb in and ride to school, but because we lived only one mile from the school we did not qualify to ride. I remember that its route was erratic. It followed a circular route, so sometimes it drove away from school on its way back to the country and other days it drove toward school. On those days, I walked behind it, beside it, and I longed to be in it. Sometimes my brothers jumped on the rear step-on board and kept out of sight of the lady driver.

Extras

To see or not to see: One day a teacher sent word home saying Rita needed glasses. Mama took her to a doctor in Opelousas. Once in the waiting room Mama took a look around, saw all the sore and sick eyes, took Rita by the hand and walked out. It was not until fifteen years later while in the convent that Rita got her glasses. Her eyes could not have been that bad. Word about poor eyesight was sent home about my eyes, but nothing was done until I was in the seventh grade. My brother Leon took me and I could not see a single letter on the eye doctor’s chart and I told them both. Finally, the doctor pointed to the big E. I said I couldn’t see. Well, Leon got upset with me. I don’t think he believed me. Recently I heard that the first impressionist painters must have been near sighted. I should have been a painter. Who knows what work of art I would have painted in Cajun country!

Cracked Corn: Mama always found a way to entertain us. I remember when it was raining, she would give me a tin cupful of corn and said to feed the chickens. I would lay down on the floor of the porch where there were wide cracks between the boards. I dropped one kernel of corn at a time to the ground below. I watched and listened as the chickens scratched and squawked for their share.

The ’35 Chevy: The old truck was hard to start mornings, so my brothers found a method to help fire it up. At night it was parked in a broad shallow sloping ditch. Reasoning for this was mornings they pushed it forward and backward in the ditch to give it momentum.

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One turned on the switch, pressed the clutch and put it in second gear. Some pushed the truck back and forth two or three times as high as it would go on the bank of the ditch. When it started coming down for the third or fourth time, the one in the truck released the clutch and the momentum of the truck going downhill turned the wheels and that started the motor. Everyone jumped in and rode away. Annie H. Calais March 1995

Hardy Family: Eumene: November 22, 1881 – May 31-1963 Adelaide: January 24, 1886 –February 13, 1958 Erminie: December 4, 1904 – April 7, 1993 Leon: April 20, 1906 – May 21, 1972 Remi: May 31, 1907 – February 10, 1909 Bruno: February 18, 1910 – June 29, 1962 Sam: September 8, 1911 – February 14, 1964 Florent: August 12, 1913 – November 2, 2003 Antoine (Blue): September 9, 1915 – July 7, 2003 Marie: April 2, 1918 – November 8, 2000 Remy: October 10, 1920 – April 29, 1977 Abel: March 5, 1922 – May 19, 2000 Rita: December 22, 1923 – July 21, 2011 Annie: July 26, 1927 – April 2, 2020

Children Ermine and Pierre Lormand Medwick Gerard Jane L. Guidry Lora L Schexnayder Theresa L. Guidry Caroll Jude Leon and Wilda Calais Hardy Marie Genevieve H. Angelle (Mrs. Harold) Rose Marie (Mrs. Roland Rivette) Remi- deceased infant Bruno- unmarried Sam and Alice Mistrot Hardy Patricia (Mrs. John) Fuglar Charles and Kathy Bassett Hardy Sam and Sissy Sturgis Hardy Bob and Melissa Hardy Florent and Agnes Angelle Hardy Mary Agnes delaHoussaye Belleau (Mrs. Charles) Paul and Sandi Gatlin Hardy Florent Jr. Antoine Blue Helen Gil Hardy

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Sheila Kidder Dwight Patti Malagarie Marie Hardy Olivier Trudy Longoria Mona Kennnison Suzanne Waters Tommy Remy – unmarried Abel and Elsie Martin Hardy Jack and Jackie Mike and Cati Debbie (Mrs. Ronnie ) Lagrange Jean and Julie Arnaud Mark and Trina Angelle Dave and Nadine Arnaud Rita-Marianite of Holy Cross Annie (Mrs. P. J. Calais) Paul Dennis Kevin Todd Millie Adelaide (Mrs. Paul) Darby Guy Joseph

Memories of All Saints Day in the 1930s

Today I remembered how we celebrated All Saints Day in the 1930's; first was mass, then we walked in procession to the cemetery. The entrance was gated, and about 15 feet inside the cemetery stood Tante (Emily Pelafigu) my aunt and myself holding an opened white sheet one at each end in which the parishioners dropped in it coins and an occasional paper bill for the upkeep of sacred grounds. I remember the sunshine and the bright reflection on the sheet. Tante tied the ends of the sheet tight and we walked on to the Cross and prayed for our dead. I remember the sunshine and the faces of my family as we stood together. Tante gave the priest the money collected. Just saying…. October 9, 2016

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