We lived in a town called LaPlace until I was maybe 10. Roughly 45 minutes outside of New Orleans,Step dad was an adopted cajun and I remember his parents speaking French to each other when I was a little boy.
I’ve always felt a connection to the food, the culture,the accent. Raging alcoholics down there,but also some funny and kind people.
And the food… holy shit, the South doesn’t know how to cook, the redneck south.Just pour salt on everything,fry the shit out of it.
Authentic cajun food is different. Actual spices and seasoning,certainly unhealthy, but damn, what amazing food.
Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like if we stayed, I’d be a completely different person.
Mother wanted to be near family,and family was into crazy cult style religion. If we stayed in Louisiana,I probably would have only had to deal with Catholic problems. Still crazy, less traumatic,lol.
I’ve never considered myself a Southerner, never gave in to the accent,never considered myself the target of all the national jokes about how we fuck sheep or don’t know how to read.
I would have preferred to be a pretend cajun though
dawn 