Do NOT Try This at Home!

I had decided that I was not going to post this photo this week.  It’s one of the only things I was sure of as far as my blog goes.  I try to plan things out a little, but I’m usually not sure what I’ll exactly say from week to week.  I have been looking for something about my great grandfather Simon Alcide Landry to write about.  He was the husband of Marie Celeste from two weeks ago, but I really didn’t say much about him.  I have lots of photos of Marie Celeste through her years, but only one of Alcide.  I thought I would save this enhanced photo of him for later.  It’s the only photo I have of him.

So that was it.  I was not going to post this photo of him this week.  What I was doing this week was re-reading the book “Tirailleurs” by my 3rd cousin Thomas H. Richey.  It had been a while since I had read it and I thought I might find something regarding family history in it.  It’s mainly about Alcide’s older brother Trasimond’s experiences in the Civil War. 

But sometimes it mentions baby brother Alcide.  I was reading along, minding my own business, when I got to page 123.  It recounted a story about Alcide that I didn’t remember.  I read the book before, but I must have just overlooked it somehow.  I didn’t this time.  I decided then and there that I was going to write my blog this week about the story that was told.  It’s time for something a bit lighthearted.

It was the summer of 1863 in Brusly Landing in southern Louisiana.  On the plantation of Narcisse Landry, his son Alcide Landry was aching to join in on the fighting in the War.  But he wasn’t old enough yet.  He wouldn’t be turning 18 until August 16.  In June they were growing their corn crop, but didn’t dare to harvest it yet because the Yankees would just confiscate it.  There were some skirmishes going on at Port Hudson, so there were many Union soldiers about.

Port Hudson fell to the Union, so things settled down a bit.  Older brother Belisaire decided it was safe to harvest the corn.  Part of that work fell to young Alcide, who was not the least bit thrilled.  His 18th birthday couldn’t come soon enough and it was still a month away.  So he set to work picking up the corn as he rode in his corn wagon.

Don’t ask me what a corn wagon was, because all I can say is that it was probably a wagon for gathering corn!  And all I know about this one is that it had a bench in the front of it, just behind the horse that was pulling it.  Nothing automated in those days!  On this particular corn wagon on July 29, 1863, young 17-year 11-month 13-day-old Alcide Landry was sitting on the bench behind an old mare horse.  It had been a long, hot southern Louisiana day and Alcide was making his way back to the barn.

As they were riding along, Alcide was preoccupied with thoughts of the army.  He would grab an ear of corn, shuck it, and throw the grains of corn on the mare’s back and watch them fall.  Then he’d grab another ear.  As he was going through his repetitive process, he was pulled out of his reverie by a pungent explosion.  That old mare had lifted her tail and let out a stream of obnoxious fumes practically right in his face!  I’m surprised it didn’t knock him off of his bench.  I’m sure he had a few choice words for his horsey friend!

They continued on their way, and as they were approaching the barn, Alcide picked up another ear of corn to shuck.  At this moment, the mare lifted up her tail for another surprise.  Before he realized what he was doing, Alcide has used the ear of corn in his hand to stop up the source of the foul gift.  And before the mare realized what she was doing, she was bucking up her back legs and kicking at the source of whatever it was that was hindering her gassy relief.  “Tonnerre m’ecrase!”

All Alcide could see was the belly of the mare as her back legs rose up and kicked the corn wagon and his ribs.  Fortunately for Alcide it was an old mare after a long day’s work.  Unfortunately for Alcide she was still a pretty powerful animal.  So now, not only did he have to wait until he turned 18, he also had to wait for his ribs to heal.  I’m sure during his time of waiting he must have shaken his head a few times wondering how he could have done such a thing.

What a story!  I wonder if that was a story passed down to some of his children or grandchildren?  I’d never heard it that I recall.  And the French phrase in there means something like, “Thunder crushes me!”  It sounds like an explosive situation all the way around. 

I’m glad I know this story.  I hope you enjoyed it.