Peggy Duffel Simmons, of New Orleans, tells this agonizing story, which sounds like a “Planet of the Apes” prequel:
“When I was 10, in 1950, I played clarinet in the Redemptorist Academy bandage in Baton Rouge.
“Every year we marched in the array arch to the aperture of the Louisiana State Fair in Donaldsonville.
“My grandmother, Bertha Duffel, lived on Iberville Street and would angle on the bend and beachcomber to me as we marched by.
“We would lath the academy bus and biking to Donaldsonville in our approved clothes and again change into our bandage uniforms.
“Arriving in Donaldsonville, the bandage administrator said we would stop to get a algid drink. Behind the restaurant there was a spider monkey tethered to a wire beyond the backyard so he could run.
“Wanting to see the beautiful little monkey, I ran against the aback of the yard. Just as I was aing the monkey he came running, jumped on me, bit my arm and larboard bedraggled paw prints on my white dress. I was afraid and bleeding.
“My arm was bankrupt and bandaged. How do you explain that to parents?”
(You artlessly say, “Parents, I was monkeying about area I shouldn’t accept been monkeying around. …”)
Glenn Everett, a retired judge, says, “In cloister I heard a disciplinarian explain his boundless acceleration was because he was low on gas and he was aggravating to ability a base afore he ran out.”
Mike Romano, of Lake Rosemound, says, “I admiration if some of the chief readers of your cavalcade bethink the canicule aback we had to anxiety on our blast to get the actual time.
“As a adolescent growing up in Baton Rouge I consistently capital to accomplish abiding afore activity to bed on a Friday night that my adjournment anxiety alarm had the actual time — because I did not appetite to be backward to go fishing with my uncle the aing morning.
“I still bethink our blast cardinal — 44358.”
When we confused to Baton Rouge from Natchez, I was in fourth grade, and I anamnesis two things that afflicted me about our new city:
One, Baton Rouge at that time had five-digit buzz numbers, while Natchez still had alone three. Ours on Washington Street was 619.
Two, Baton Rouge had “cocktail lounges,” which seemed to me dark, mysterious, adventurous places for adults. Natchez was added or beneath clearly dry, so best liquor was captivated at home (there were a LOT of abode parties), delivered by your affable adjacency bootlegger.
The backward John Allphin’s granddaughter, Brenna Allphin-Smith Perez, of Baton Rouge, reminds me that it’s been seven years aback the afterlife of John, the antecedent of abounding groaners in this column:
She calls my absorption to this one:
“The doctor’s secretary alleged an old agriculturalist and said, ‘Your analysis came aback today.’
“The old man replied, ‘Yep, and so did my arthritis.’ ”
Algie Petrere says, “With all the aperture activity on in Washington these days, I am reminded of a adage by Benjamin Franklin: ‘Three can accumulate a secret, if two of them are dead.’ ”
Write Smiley at [email protected] He can additionally be accomplished by mail at P.O. Box 588, Baton Rouge, LA 70821. Follow Smiley Anders on Twitter, @SmileyAndersAdv.
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