Did I ever tell you about the time that my Daddy felt compelled to line up a job for me? Well, back at St. Mary’s High School in Natchitoches, Louisiana, I was a popular student but, well, let’s just say that I didn’t make the honor roll. It was a small school and everyone knew each other, or maybe they all just heard of me through a few unfortunate accidents that may or may not have been my fault. Anyhow, low grades did not stop me from moving on to college at the University of South Louisiana (USL) in Lafayette.

          My Mama sent me off with new jeans and a pocketful of cash. My Daddy sent me off with a warning to make the grade. My Nanny begged me not to wait too long to bring back my dirty laundry and restock my food stash. What more did I need? I had friends, girls, a car, and place to stay. That’s what I loved about college life. I signed up for all the basic college courses, but my buddies and I often found more interesting things to do than attend class.

          For example, when my buddy, Hugh, and I discovered that the charge card my Mama gave me for gas could also be used at Holiday Inn, what choice did we have but to confirm it? One card that would pay for our gas, hotel, food, and anything else the hotel offered was our ticket to free travel! Over a three-year period, Hugh and I, along with all my new friends, drove from city to city and state to state with that gas card paying for everything we needed (or wanted) along the route. I never received or gave a thought to the bill; after all, it was in Mama’s name. What fun! Free entertainment beat classes any day.

          But one day in my third freshman year, when my laundry needed doing and I was ready for Nanny Castell’s good homemade chicken and dumplings, I headed home. Mama welcomed me back and slipped me a hundred. Castell complained that college life made me skinny and went to work in the kitchen. And Daddy called the house from our store and asked me to come on down. It was a liquor store that we owned, which was also the town gathering place for Daddy and his cronies. I was happy to oblige him and catch up on any news.

          Upon entering the store I was greeted by all the regulars, slapping my back and asking about life in Lafayette. Daddy was noticeably quiet until he cleared his throat and asked me to step into his office. I was intrigued. Maybe Daddy was about to depart some great wisdom to his college student son or maybe this was the day I would inherit half the business. I straightened my shoulders and smiled as I reached for the office door. Daddy looked calm and composed sitting behind his desk. The office looked like it always did – organized chaos – with one new item, a map, tacked to the wall.

          “Son,” my daddy began, “do you see this map?”

          “Yes, sir, I see it.”

          “Do you see all these highlighted cities and roads I’ve marked?”

          “Yes, sir.”

          “Son, do you know what those locations indicate?”

          “No, sir.”

          “Those particular locations do not look familiar to you?”

          That’s when it slowly began to dawn on me. The route marked had a familiar path; I decided to speed up the conversation.

          “Daddy, did you know that Mama’s gas card is good at any Holiday Inn in the country?!”

          “Son, I knew that one minute after receiving the call from the credit card company about an unpaid bill. Now I called you in here to tell you something important. There are some people that are made for college and there’re some that aren’t. Boy, you’re an “aren’t”.”

          “Well, Daddy, I…”

          “I’ll tell you what you’re gonna do now. You need to go on down and see Dr. Cook for a physical.”

          “But, Daddy, I feel fine! I don’t need a physical.”

          “Yeah, you do. Go on ahead and get one.”

          So off I went to get a physical. Everything checked out fine, just as I expected, especially my right arm, which was designated for beer drinking. Upon returning to bring my daddy the good news, I was surprised to hear him inform me I was to report the next day to Penrod Drilling Company, located in one of my familiar stomping grounds: Lafayette, Louisiana.     “Penrod? The off-shore Penrod Drilling Company?”

          “That’s right. They’ll be expecting you.”

          And that was that. The next day I was whisked off to a Penrod platform in the Gulf of Mexico. I was given a sixteen-pound sledgehammer, hung 300 feet over the ocean in a personnel basket, and told to ‘go to work’.

          It was at that moment, when I thought about my grades and my current situation, I understood what he meant by an “aren’t”.

 

          A year later, my daddy made one last announcement on the subject. “Son, have you noticed how your checks have been garnished this past year?”

          Actually, I hadn’t read the fine print, just the ‘pay in the amount of’ on each paycheck. “Garnished?” I asked stupidly.

          “Yes. Garnished,” Daddy replied. “You have now paid back the final credit card bill of $5,280.”

          Well, the time I spent in Lafayette, Louisiana, taught me many things: how to cook Cajun, how to two-step, how to play bouree, how to hunt and fish better, how to watch a rooster fight, and attend every small town mardi gras there was. I may have ended my USL career with a ‘point six’ grade in academics, but I finished with a strong ‘four point zero’ in entertainment.