Born on the Bayou

I have found myself in the unimaginable position of defending the bayou more than once lately.

I never thought I would feel defensive of my old bayou community. If you've been paying attention at all, you know that I used to live in Northwestern Louisiana. And I hated it there but after...what?...nine years there, I developed certain roots.

Now whenever people in our new community ask where we moved from and I say "Louisiana" they look at me with pity.

It wasn't that bad.

One of the teachers at our new Suzuki violin school asked me, "Oh! So they even had a Suzuki program there?"

And I wanted to yell, "A hell of a lot better one than you have, snooty!" Which is unfortunately true. (Though we've ended up with a new teacher (and doctor's wife) who moved down here form Connecticut and I am THRILLED with her!)

So people are surprised that we did anything other than tractor pulls, chew and crawfish boiling down on the ole' bayou. And I have to laugh at myself for not agreeing with their characterization.

Hell, I do agree with their characterization. To a point. But it is my bayou to make fun of. Not theirs.

Besides, my kids were born and raised on the bayou. So now I will defend its merits until the day I die.