Dear Smiley: My parents used to go to Hymel’s in Convent with another couple.
The husband was a veterinarian who was originally from west Texas and graduated from Texas A&M (insert Aggie joke here). He had a terrible time eating boiled crabs.
Finally, one night my dad asked Marie Hymel to show the vet how to eat crabs. Big mistake.
After that my dad was lucky to get two crabs from the dozen they always ordered.
RANDY RAYBURN
Savannah Lakes Village, South Carolina
Dispatch from heaven
Dear Smiley: A well-boiled, full, blue-point crab is about my favorite thing in the whole world.
I always scratch my head when folks say, “They’re too much trouble.” I respond, “Well, send yours to me!”
A best-case scenario, which happened Wednesday night, is that “the crab lady” called; they had made it out to Big Lake and had a mess of crabs.
Dee got the water boiling and made the run to Kaplan. Fresh, sweet, white as snow…sometimes living in south Louisiana is heaven.
LYN DOUCET
Maurice
Days before germs
Dear Smiley: I lived the first 36 years of my life in Baton Rouge.
My fondest memories as a child were playing year-round sports at City Park with boys from surrounding neighborhoods (I was the only girl playing at first).
Doc Fenton, an LSU football player from the early 1900s, used to watch us play from his front porch directly across the street from the park.
There were no water fountains around, and Doc was nice to offer us to drink out of a big metal scoop from a garage sink faucet. We never thought about passing germs around and were very appreciative of his offer.
BEVERLY LYMAN DOWDY
Macon, Georgia
Small World Dept.
Dear Smiley: I have often said New Orleans has only 2-3 degrees of separation. I have been witness to this more times than I can count.
I ran into my “little brother,” C.J. Turpin, at my Brother Martin High School 50th class reunion. I first met C.J. during my freshman year. I lived in Gentilly; he lived in Metairie.
The first time I went to his house, C.J. introduced to me to his mother:
“Mom, this is Peter Dassey.”
“Peter Dassey? Is your mother’s name Joyce, and your dad is Bob?”
“Yes!”
“You were born Dec. 16 at Hotel Dieu Hospital?”
“Why, yes! How did you know that?”
“I had the bed next to your mom. C.J. was born on the 17th at Hotel Dieu!”
(Lagniappe: The OB/GYN who delivered me also delivered my wife and my first child at Hotel Dieu!)
PETER DASSEY
Kenner
Walking the planks
Dear Smiley: Submissions about galleries (porches) and banquettes (wooden sidewalks) brought to mind the two fires that destroyed Napoleonville twice in the 1800s.
The banquettes were made of cypress wood and traversed the entire town. When a fire began, it followed the path of the banquettes along the front of the buildings and ignited them.
I have the only picture of the courthouse that burned in the late 1880s or early 1890s. The only things that withstood both fires were the cypress cisterns that provided water to the homes.
I do remember the last banquette in Napoleonville — it was in front of a bar with swinging doors, where the Assumption Bank was built. I was too young to go in the bar, but old enough to go to the bank!
TONY FALTERMAN
Napoleonville
Taxi! Taxi!
Dear Smiley: During the early 1970s I was a member of the Louisiana National Guard unit at Crowley.
One weekend the training included a battle tank demonstration at Fort Polk. From a distance, our captain was impressed with the soldiers’ lively participation and raised arms waving.
As the captain walked closer, he realized the excited soldiers were yelling bids at the tank commander for a ride.
MARIANO HINOJOSA
Baton Rouge
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