Dear Smiley: When we decided to move back to my hometown, Thibodaux, in 1966, we spent the weekend looking at a few houses.
When we found a house in our price range, it was a Saturday and our bank, Citizens, was closed that afternoon.
I had to mail a letter on Sunday, and coming out of the post office I met Donald Ayo, who was bank president at the time.
I told him we would have to return another day when my husband and I were off to talk to him about a home loan.
That same day — Sunday — he met us at the bank and approved our loan. How times have changed!
Name your poison
Dear Smiley: During the early years of World War II, my family lived in Hollywood, California.
My parents were avid fans of Community Coffee, which was almost impossible to find (in fact, almost any kind of coffee was scarce on grocery shelves, as most of it went to the military bases for the troops).
It was a special blessing that my mother's Louisiana family took it upon themselves to see we had the real thing. About every two months, a package would arrive — a pound or two of Community and some raw sugar provided by an uncle who managed a sugar mill.
If we had guests while there was a pot of dripped coffee available, my parents would share it with the friends — most of whom were originally from the Frozen Nawth.
It was not unusual to hear first-time Community drinkers shriek that they'd been poisoned. And, much to my parents' relief, if they were offered coffee again, they politely refused.
FRANCES P. BILLEAUD
Tried and true
Dear Smiley: With all the talk in your column concerning coffee, I was wondering if anyone remembered the home delivery of Try-Me Coffee?
As a youngster growing up in uptown New Orleans, I looked forward to the coffee man’s visit each week.
I wasn’t into coffee back then, but loved the gadgets/toys he brought in his metal basket to sell to us. Those were the days!
Dear Smiley: With reference to items in your column regarding getting old: they remind me of this expression:
"When I say 'the other day,' I could be referring to any time between yesterday and 20 years ago."
Dear Smiley: About movie/TV cowboys:
I was 6 in 1947 when Hopalong Cassidy (aka William Boyd) came to Honolulu for a show.
It was sold out, but my parents and I went to the stage entrance, where Hoppy emerged from a big boat of a white Cadillac, his outfit all black with silver spangles.
His hand was pink and fleshy as he shook mine and I got the autograph. I remember thinking he reminded me of Santa Claus.
Dear Smiley: Every time I see Ernie Gremillion's name in your column, I harken back to the early '80s, when we were members of Briarwood Country Club.
Our group and Ernie's often played on the same days, and we learned they had as part of the wagers a thing called “Ernie birdies."
It occurred when everyone in your foursome made a par on the same hole.
We incorporated this into our betting, and it was quite interesting — and at times expensive!
No wine for you!
Dear Smiley: A guest who is visiting us from New York had two bottles of expensive wine in her luggage she was bringing us as a gift.
The airport inspectors asked if she had receipts for the wine, which she did not. They confiscated both bottles.
Just a warning to readers who may have alcohol in their luggage.
Dear Doug: And I bet those inspectors didn't even invite you to their party at the airport…
Dear Smiley: Mrs. Boudreaux caught Boudreaux standing on the bathroom scales and sucking in his stomach.
She laughed and said, "That's not going to help."
"Sure it will," said Boudreaux. "It's the only way I can read the numbers."