Hello from the fishing camp at Cocodrie, Louisiana, which is, in case you didn’t know, at the end of the earth. I drove down with my dad, above, yesterday, to join my cousin Andy, whose camp this is, and two old Starhill neighbors and friends. We set out this morning for speckled trout. They weren’t biting, alas, but we did pull a few out. The large one you see in the photo I caught; he is going to taste delicious pan-fried in butter. We came in at noon, and are going to spend the heat of the day inside in the air conditioning, watching baseball and drinking beer. I’m not a baseball fan, so I’m going to start the copy of A.J. Liebling’s The Earl Of Louisiana that I found in the camp. How could I have gotten this far in life without reading the great Liebling’s book about Gov. Earl K. Long?
It was a hell of a lot of fun sitting around last night, eating steaks and listening to the old men talk. “Mother thought the sun rose and set on Huey Long’s ass,” said one of the gents. Said another, “Remember that time [name] drove to Grand Isle in that old pick-up of his that didn’t have air conditioning, and he opened the vent window, and a bumblebee blew in and stung him on the balls?”
Truly, this is the life. Thank you, Baby Jesus, that you made me born in south Louisiana.