Joe Guilbeau’s mention of small towns in the Tuesday column reminded a number of readers of their tiny hometowns. (By the way, although Joe now lives in Plaquemine, he’s from a small community in Acadiana that makes Plaquemine look like a metropolis.)
Ernie Gremillion, of Baton Rouge, says Joe’s description of how small his hometown was “reminds me of stories about Bunkie, my hometown.
“No one ever stopped in Bunkie, so they put a perpetual red light downtown and instituted a fine for backing up.”
Monica K. Murphy says this is a true story: “My mother grew up in Ida (Caddo Parish), a town so small they took the stoplight out.”
Loren Scott, of Baton Rouge, adds this: “My hometown of Wink, Texas, was so small we did not have a town drunk. Everyone just had to take turns.”
Get a porch!
Bo Bienvenu, of Prairieville, says, “Discussions of front porches in earlier columns reminded me of a country song that says:
“’If the world had a front porch like we did back then,
“We’d still have our problems but we’d still be friends.’
“The world needs a front porch.”
Which reminds me
I live in a neighborhood full of homes built in the ’20s and ’30s, with front porches. One of the more pleasant pastimes is sitting in rockers or on the porch swing greeting neighbors as they stroll by, some with dogs, in the late afternoon.
It occurs to me that the move from front porches to patios in houses built in later years had a detrimental effect on neighborhoods. How do you get to know your neighbor when you’re both around back on the patio?
I haven’t researched this, but it seems a reasonable assumption to me.
Bag it!
Russ Wise, of LaPlace, says a story about toilet paper in the trees along Mardi Gras parade routes pointed out that toilet paper “eventually disintegrates into nature.”
“But not everything does,” says Russ. “Plastic shopping bags, for example, seem to last forever. That’s why my wife and I take our own bags when we go to the store, even though people sometimes look at us strangely.”
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