Patrick “Pat” Cougevan has another “church mishap” story for our collection:
“My dad, Bill Cougevan, was an usher at Christ the King Church in Terrytown for many years.
“We always left early for Mass — after my dad, two brothers and I had passed my mom’s “inspection.”
“One Sunday, we were running late and rushed out the door, barely arriving at church on time.
“After the collection, as was customary, my dad brought the offering to the altar.
“As he knelt down before the altar, the church was awash in laughter.
“He hadn’t changed out of his ‘house socks,’ and was wearing floppy white athletic socks (with the thin red and blue stripes!). They hung around his ankles.
“My mom was mortified, and even more so when my dad, perplexed at the laughter, looked around with a ‘Who, me?’ expression on his face.
“Needless to say, mom’s pre-church inspections were not skipped again.”
The rodent strikes!
Tom Boone, of Gonzales, take issue with our description of flying squirrels as cute little pets:
“Way back when I was in high school, a friend had a flying squirrel in his shirt pocket.
“I asked if I could pet it, and he said sure. I should have known from the look in his eyes this was a bad idea.
“That squirrel latched on to my finger like a pit bull.
“I must have slung it 20 yards. By the way, a flying squirrel doesn’t fly so good when they are spinning through the air like a Frisbee.
“My friend retrieved his unharmed but shaken squirrel, and told me that I could have killed his pet.
“There I was, holding a bleeding finger and much more worried about catching rabies than his danged pocket rat.
“Oh, and the friend’s name was ‘Beaver.’ Kind of figures, right?”
Chicken thief blues
Nobey Benoit says our Wednesday “Southern accent” story about the “Narr Bridge” (a bridge that was not very wide) “reminded me about the time back in the College Inn days in Thibodaux.
“One of the elderly patrons was nursing a drink at the bar, and kept repeating to himself, ‘Coopin nall, coopin nall.’
“Wondering what that was all about, I asked him what was wrong.
“He answered, ‘I can’t believe it. Some dang thief stole my chickens — and took the coop and all.’”
David McLemore says our Saturday story from Robert Cabes, of Lafayette, about his misadventures as a server at the altar “helped me to find a friend from our days at LSU.
“We lived in the same dorm and haven’t had any contact for over 50 years. Robert, the altar boy from New Orleans, was nice enough to take this sheltered young man from Franklin Parish (which was dry in the ’50s) to New Orleans.
“He introduced me to Bourbon Street and the Sho Bar, where I got to see ‘TNT Red’ up close and personal. He also took me to my first Mardi Gras and introduced me to Hurricanes (fortunately for me, the Hurricanes were a one-time event).
“I called him and we reminisced over the ‘good ol’ days.’”
I remember my fourth grade days fondly (Mrs. Anders says that’s because my jokes are at a fourth-grade level.)
It was in fourth grade that I mastered the multiplication tables and learned long division. (That was as far as my math skills ever got, but never mind that...).
Anyhow, a fourth-grade student from North Carolina wants information about Louisiana for a class project — “postcards, maps, pictures souvenirs,” etc.
Send them to Sophie Jones, Mrs. Dodd’s Class, Charlotte Latin School, 9502 Providence Road, Charlotte, NC 28277.
Thought for the Day
From Harry Clark, of Lafayette: “What a time to be alive. My computer monitor is larger than my first three TVs, and my phone is more capable than my first three computers.”
Alex “Sonny” Chapman, of Ville Platte, says this about a recent article in The Advocate questioning the need for the teaching of algebra in schools: “My conclusion in my sophomore year of high school is now validated.”
Their own language
“Like many young boys with a younger sister,” says Phil Ragusa, “I liked to tease mine. She would go and ‘tell Mama.’
“One day I did something (don’t really remember what) to her, and off to Mama she went.
“I offered that it was just an ‘accident.’ Angie said it was on ‘PURPODENT!’
“That type language must have run in our family, as my other, even younger, sister Jeannie was 7-8 years old before saying ‘United States’ instead of ‘Stiney Eights!’”
Write Smiley at Smiley@theadvocate.com. He can also be reached by fax at (225) 388-0351 or mail at P.O. Box 588, Baton Rouge, LA 70821.