Dear Smiley: Several years ago, in Beaumont, Texas, I watched a young man ride his bicycle through the rain.
The downpour made visibility almost impossible.
The young man struggled to see and kept brushing the rainwater out of his eyes.
I couldn’t help but think how much easier it would have been if he would only turn his cap around.
Dear Smiley: Another “small world” story:
My daughter Christina Broussard works at a barbecue restaurant in Lynnwood, Washington.
Last week, she was having a casual conversation with a patron.
He was curious of the origin of her last name because Broussard isn’t a common last name in the Pacific Northwest.
She told him that her parents were from Baton Rouge.
Come to find out, he also was from Baton Rouge — and graduated from high school with a Bert Broussard.
The gentleman was Tom Delery, and we graduated from Broadmoor High, Class of 1970.
Good to know that there is another Broadmoor Buc in the Northwest.
A voice from home
Dear Smiley: An item in your column about New Orleans’ WWL radio station brought back a fond memory.
In 1958, my husband was in the U.S. Public Health Service, assigned to the staff of the Indian Hospital in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
In November of that year, Lynn really yearned to hear the LSU-Tulane football game.
For some reason, we could not receive WWL on the radio in the house, but it would come through on the car radio.
So for three hours or more that evening, Lynn would go sit in the car, listen to the game long enough to hear the score, then go back into the warm house.
Even though it has been over 56 years, we still can remember that even though we were 900 miles away from home, we could feel a little bit at home, thanks to the New Orleans clear channel station, WWL!
FRANCES M c CORD
The wild West
Dear Smiley: I also have a family history story concerning the Indian Territory, out in what is now Oklahoma.
This would have been in the year of 1861.
My Grandmother Whitman was an infant at the time, riding in the back of a wagon, asleep.
Some Indians on horseback rode up alongside. They traveled together for a while until they parted ways.
After traveling a while, my great-grandparents found my grandmother was missing.
A group of men went back and found the Indians and my grandmother.
All ended well, but what a family story to pass down!
Dear Smiley: Grandson Reid Pilgreen, 4, recently had a bad virus.
A day later, he asked me for some ramen noodles for lunch, so I made him a bowl.
He just looked at his food, and I told him not to worry, that if he didn’t feel like eating, he didn’t have to.
After 30 minutes of sitting and looking, I said, “Reid, you really don’t have to eat your noodles.” He said, “Memere, my head says YES, but my stomach says NO!”
Dear Smiley: My daddy was red-headed, so most of his friends called him Duroc, which is a reddish breed of hog.
He owned a meat market in Poplar Bluff, Missouri, where I worked after school and on Saturdays.
A delivery boy, Jack Verble, drove the truck and delivered meat and groceries to customers who phoned in their orders.
Jack would do things that irked Daddy, and he often fired him but hired him back the next week.
One Saturday night, Daddy fired him, saying, “I’ve taught you everything I know, and you still don’t know nothing.”
T. MED HOGG
Joy of thievery
Dear Smiley: You know, Smiley, there is simply a warm and deep, deep joyous feeling in “Steele-ing” something from Alabama, especially one of their coaches!
Ha! Ha! Ha! Love the TIGERS!
Smiley can also be reached by fax at (225) 388-0351 or mail at P.O. Box 588, Baton Rouge, LA 70821.