Like most stories, this one begins with an ending. My entire life centered around Shreveport, Louisiana. Cajun Country. The Buckle of the Bible Belt. Sportsman’s Paradise. Home of the LSU Tigers and the New Orleans Saints. Only a few small problems: I am not religious, I love air-conditioning, I am a vegetarian, and I tend to base my sports team affiliations on the stylishness of the mascot and team uniforms. As a result I never truly felt the South was my home. So my childhood dream was not to be an astronaut or a movie star but to get out of the Deep South and into the Ivy Leagues. Twenty-two years in I packed up my belongings and my English Bulldog Yoda, bound for Boston, MA. I thought I would shed my southern past and start anew.
And yet, every day I would find myself saying “Now you know in Louisiana we…” and “Oh well back in Louisiana we don’t do…” I missed Tony Chachere’s, fried everything, the kindness of strangers, and (gasp!) began to appreciate the few fleur-de-lis items I owned. I suppose at my core I AM a Southerner.
But not exactly. From the first time I entered Boston it felt like home more than anyplace in the South ever had. I love the sailboats along the Charles River, walking everywhere (and at a pace faster than two mph), and that when I call myself vegetarian people do not respond with, “Wait but you eat seafood, right? And chicken?” So while my beloved Boston is now home, I find myself bringing a slight Southern twist to everything I do.
Twenty-two year old graduate student with an opinion on everything and occasional delusions of grandeur? Laissez les bon temps rouler! (Err…Let the good times roll!)
“And that’s okay! All stories, even the ones we love, must eventually come to an end. And when they do, it is only an opportunity for a new story to begin.”
- Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium
PS Want to know just how different Shreveport is from Boston? Check it out:
Downtown Shreveport:
Saints Fans:
Red Sox Fans:
Main Hobby in Shreveport*:
Main Hobby in Boston*:
* To be fair, Shreveporters do more than visit Bass Pro Shop. They also fish, hunt, ski on the many lakes, and camp. But my point is Shreveport activities are mostly outdoor, active endeavors in 100+ degree heat and humidity. The opposite of what I like to do. To be even fairer I don’t know how to sail, but I like to imagine myself one day partying on a yacht/sailboat that someone else sails. Plus, sailboats are prettier than pirouges.
Is it wrong that those pictures do nothing but make me miss LA? I too find myself referencing our home state in the exact same manner as you on a daily basis and am probably met with the same blank/confused/concerned looks that I am sure you have experienced…I’m happy that your happy but I’ll take Tony’s on everything and some crawfish in someone’s backyard versus sailboats on the Charles and the people rushing you in the grocery store line with rude comments any day…when was the last time a stranger called you m’am, m’am?
P.S. Loving the blog…keep up the good work!
LOL it is not wrong per se, and I was not even really making fun of LA so much as showing the differences. As for people in the grocery store — I’ll take the calm of being able to peruse the tabloids or my phone over having to talk about my purchases with the random lady behind me ANY day of the week. No ma’ams but perfectly nice people up here!
xoxo