Cenla of the Bayou
It's called The Bayou State. According to the dictionary, a bayou is "A sluggish stream that meanders through lowlands, marshes, or plantation grounds." Indeed, that seems an apt description of Louisiana. I spent Saturday in Alexandria, Louisiana, a city of some 50,000 which is referred to as Cenla, because it is pretty much the mid-point of the state on both axes.
I had gone to shoot a whole slew of on-camera pieces for some productions on collaborative law. The reason for the location is that my new and good friend Ross Foote sits on the bench there. As his daddy did. There's a lotta tradition in Alexandria. Some might think too much, with the obverse being the implication of too little progress, but that wouldn't be entirely fair.
It's swampy, it's kinda backward, but as in so many places in this extraordinary country of ours, there are some shining lights in this town. Ross is one of them. Not only a pioneer in the collaborative process, he went out and raised money to promote the concept, locally and nationally. One of the finer human beings I've met in a long time, Ross is aimed forward. He's gotten past a coupla obstacles that would have brought others down, and he greets life with a thoughtfully-spiritual philosophy that has little room for victimhood, and is spiced with gentility and humor.
Ross and his lovely wife Beth, a lawyer, had me to their home for dinner after a very long day of shooting. The food was delicious -- crab-'n-potato soup and portabello mushrooms stuffed with crawfish -- the music from our shared era was loud, and the conversation effervesced like newly-poured glass of champagne. Had there not been a date on my return ticket, we might still be sitting at the table swapping life notes.
Like the time when their boys were just toddlers, and a neighbor called Ross to say there was a cottonmouth in the backyard, again.Though rarely fatal, these a particularly aggressive snakes, and can do serious damage to a person, especially a young 'un. Such visitors are not infrequent, but this was a big one. Five foot, before it lost its head to a shotgun blast.
Another good-ole-boy with perspicacity who lives in Alexandria is Greg Mayo. He's a cameraman who shoots stills and video. He spent almost ten hours collecting almost thirty different shots at two different locations for Ross and me. Very professional, very genial, Greg exceeded expectations, both in his attitude and his product. Indeed, I made another friend that day, and I would be surprised if we didn't find ourselves out shooting another story together before too long.
When I flew into Alexandria International Airport that Friday night, I got picked up by a Cenla cab company van whose passenger-side doors failed to yield from the outside. The front windshield had a crack that stretched most of the way across, starting at what looked like a bullet hole. I had my motel call the cab company Saturday night to make sure they'd pick me up for an early ride to the airport Sunday morning, and they said they would. When they called again early Sunday morning, the cab people said, sorry, the ride wasn't on the books.
I had Ross's number, and he said he'd be up at that hour walking the dog and that that should I call him if the cab flaked. But Josh the night desk clerk had insisted that I call him instead, and I did. He arrived in less than ten minutes, and ferried me over in plenty of time to catch my plane. Only 20 years old, and starting college next spring to become an elementary school teacher, Josh was not high on Alexandria. It was much quieter than Lake Charles, where the clubs let in people his age, unlike the clubs in Cenla. What got this young man outta bed that early? The manager of the motel had done right by him, and he felt a sense of responsibility.
When my plane landed in Houston, I found myself trekking across the airport with a woman who works in a federal office in Alexandria. It's not her cuppa tea, she said. Not very lively, not hardly intellectual. She couldn't wait to be transferred back to where she'd like to call home. New York? Chicago? St. Louis? Oklahoma City.
As I said, this is an extraordinary country. You can't tell by the geography, or even by the culture, what or whom you will find where, but you can be pretty dang sure that if you're on the right path, if you put out the right energy, you're gonna connect with some mighty fine people. Almost anywhere.
And that's SetonnoteS...I'm Tony Seton.
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