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Some islands can be reached during low tide by simply walking to them. Eventually, a well walked low track of land back and forth from the island to the mainland creates a reason to build a permanent pathway called a causeway. Eventually, these pathways turn into elevated highways we use to navigate through our busy journeys to and from wherever we are going. In earlier times, it was not so easy. I know of three very famous causeways of which two are concealed during high tides. The third is mythical called the Giant’s causeway in Ireland. The Irish giant named Finn McCool created a causeway so he could do battle with the Scottish giant Benandonner. Not sure who won the battle, but Benandonner ripped up the pathway as he fled back to Scotland, so you be the judge. The remains of the causeway can be seen if you travel to Ireland. My wife and I had a chance to see the remains several years ago while touring Ireland. The second causeway we actually walked across during low tide is located in Cornwall, England leading to St. Michael’s Mount. Both of these causeways have already been written about in past travel blogs. You can search for my blog posts for more, but this post is about our latest venture across to Lindisfarne in Northumberland. This is said to be the birthplace of Christianity in that part of the world. More on that later but for now join me as we journeyed on our first phase of our yearly trek across the pond. No causeway, or modern road but by air. My how things have changed over time.

My last travel post was called “Why?” in the summer of 2023. During that time, we celebrated my wife’s mother’s 100th year with a great party of friends and family. During that time, we also made a trip to Budapest. Read my post to find out more. We then returned to England on Christmas of 2023 to celebrate my mother-in-law reaching her centenarian birthday. It is now the summer of 2024, and she is still going strong. She is truly a remarkable person.

Everyone needs a reason to cross over from where they feel comfortable to where they know they need to go. If we have to wait for a tidal change to make the crossing, then maybe we can call that a causeway crossing. Join me as I cover our travels so far on this trip.

After a hectic effort to get our ducks in a row in the USA in order to travel across to England, we hit the ground running. Call it an emotional causeway crossing. As disaster coordinator for nearly 400 churches within the Global Methodist Church, this meant trying to plan ahead for back up. Hurricane Beryl had just hit our area and recovery is ongoing. No storms the first few weeks and then came “Debby” hitting Florida. Prayers for those who are impacted. The first week over, we spent just about every day, visiting mom and taking her out for day trips in between trying to get her finances sorted. Though we have advanced in our society to allow online banking, etc. they still need security to ensure we are who we are. With that first week behind us, we went on a short vacation by rail up to Yorkshire and Northumberland with some close friends. The trip was a combination of coach, train and a lot of walking but well worth the trip.

Our first leg of the vacation was a long drive up to York and taxi from York to Harrogate to our hotel for the next three days. We met our tour manager and settled in for our evening meal. We walked the streets of Harrogate by Betty’s Café Tea Rooms, Turkish Baths, and even found Hale’s Bar dating back to the 1660’s. Apparently, we may be related as the Hale family is part of my heritage. More on that on Day 7.

Day 2 started with a nice trip to RHS Garden Harlow Carr in Harrogate. If you love walking through gardens, you could spend all day, but we moved on to the town of York. The cobbled streets through the Shambles, the river Ouse and the York Minster gothic cathedral are fabulous sites to see. Henry the VIII managed to shut down the Catholics but did not destroy the cathedral. There were monasteries destroyed but some remains were finally preserved from repurposing into new construction, so it makes York a marvelous contrast from old vs new. We viewed the house of Margaret Clitherow who was martyred in York March 25^th, 1586, and canonized October 25^th, 1970. She allowed her house to be used to have a secret Catholic Mass each week until caught and tortured to death for her failure to claim allegiance to Henry’s church. Us Christians have a hell of a wicked history. Mass is still being held each Saturday at 10 am to this day. On a brighter note, near the ruins of an old monastery is a building used as a meeting place of York Methodists from 1753 to 1759 where John and Charles Wesley and George Whitefield preached on several occasions. Also, Rowntree family starting with Henry in 1862 decided to buy a cocoa site in York that turned into the huge confectionary company known today. A lot of history from the Roman occupation who first laid the foundations for the cathedral and wall partially preserved around York to sweets we can buy today.

On Day 3 we go by coach to Whitby and the Abbey ruins where we watched an outdoor play based on Bram Stoker’s book about Count Dracula where much of this area inspired his creativity. We loved the interaction between actors and the children especially. That was a fun experience to observe the ruins while watching an interactive play. This site has been the home to over three-thousand-year-old communities and considered a holy place plus seat of power. This Ango-Saxon monastery was founded in the 7^th century. In 1078 another abbey was built until good ole Henry shut it down in 1539. Stoker based his Dracula novel on stories of a ghostly Black Dog and a shipwreck recorded in a photograph in 1885.

Our next stop was to listen to a story of one of the oldest English RNLI stations located in Whitby. RNLI stands for Royal National Lifeboat Institution. I particularly found this interesting in knowing they are independent of the government, mostly volunteer run with a dedicated local response team. They respond to any and all coastal watercraft in trouble and they are located all along the coastline of Britian. Apart from seeing the lifeboats and equipment serving the community, what impressed me most was that they coordinate their efforts with the Coast Guard which is governmental. This ensures proper communication at all times as not all disasters are appropriate for a volunteer group with limited resources. In my personal effort as disaster coordinator for our new Global Methodist organization, I too believe in establishing a good line of communication with local government principalities. This avoids actions unnecessary or improper for the circumstance. Every disaster is unique whether it is on the water or land. We concluded our long day riding on the scenic North York Moors Railway before heading back to Harragate. By the way, the Harragate Inn was originally called Chequers Inn then renamed to Hotel St George after George III in 1778.

On day 4 we packed up and made our way to Settle and the Carlisle Line to a new hotel in Alnwick. The Settle-Carlisle line is a beautiful ride through fields and valleys. I imagine was once a causeway type pathway before modern road construction and eventually a railroad bridge.

After a beautiful train ride through the country, we ended up at Carlise. The cathedral is again breathtaking in size and majesty. After a slow walk around the town, we were back on a coach headed to Alnwick where we will stay for the next three days. There is a marvelous bookstore full of any book you can imagine where you can buy, and barter thus called the barter store. Near the hotel is the Bondgate Tower part of the main defense wall completed in 1480 to keep those pesty Scots and Danes away I suspect.

On day 5, we had a fairly easy day, strolling the Alnwick castle and gardens. The castle was yet again a beautiful, majestic site overlooking the North Sea and the gardens down below were absolutely gorgeous where kids could play in water features all throughout the grounds. The most impressive tour for us was the poison gardens. We learned that many plants we consider in our own gardens can be deadly if consumed improperly. Daffodils are pretty to see in the garden and can have a toxic or therapeutic impact. Poppies are transformed from beauty to nightmare, from morphine to heroin. There are so many stories of people like the smiling doctor John Adams and Dr. Death Shipman and nurse “Jolly” Jane Topan for their poppy drug deadly mixtures. There are plants so deadly that they put them in glass cages to avoid contact like Ricinus Communis (Castor bean) used in an umbrella laced point by the KGB to assassinate political enemies of their state. Even the teacup poisoner Graham Young used Astope Belladonna (Deadly night shade) to kill 70 + people just because he thought he could get away with it. They finally caught him and died in prison. There was so much never heard of plants that can kill but did you know the tops of green tomatoes are toxic and leaves of Rhubarbs can be fatal if eaten enough of it. Kind of depressing as we walked along the dangerous plants but the more you know the more you can take the necessary precautions. Can you imagine walking along an ancient causeway from one high point to another and trying the vegetation as you went along. Maybe some did not make it to the other side.

We continued on day 6 to Bamburgh Castle and Lindisfarne, otherwise known as the Holy Island. What an adventure seeing the Castle overlooking the North Sea with the Island in the distance. If you are a gothic buff who likes recreations of that era and hooked on “The Last Kingdom” then here at Bebbanburg or Bebba’s Fortress in the late 500’s or later called Bamburgh you are at home.

Looking out to the North Sea coastline, the island of Lindisfarne can be seen. St. Aidan was an Irish monk invited by Scotland’s King Oswald to Northumbria to become bishop of his kingdom. From the monastery on Lindisfarne, Aiden walked the countryside, talking to people to interest them in Christianity. He died at Bamburgh and buried at Lindisfarne in 651. Aiden and his monks spread the Celtic Christian tradition throughout the kingdom. Later in 664 King Oswiu of Northumbria decided to follow the Christian customs of Rome.

Our next stop was to cross the countryside to Lindisfarne which meant we had to wait until the tide was low so we could drive across the causeway. Imagine making that pilgrimage across miles of wetlands to reach the Holy Island. There are tall poles every 50 yards or so to mark the pathway taken to reach the high ground along the causeway. This was more than just a tourist attraction. Lives were lost and lives were changed as they journeyed to meet their new identity as a believer in Christ. Now, that is evangelism!

Vikings raided the Island in 793 forcing the monks to flee. In spite of the raids, Christianity continued to advance, and the Church of St. Mary continues today. Remains of the Lindisfarne Priory was a pleasant historical walk as you can imagine if walls and stones could talk. The priory was shut down by good ole Henry in 1537 but later a castle was built in 1572 and was used as a military garrison protecting the natural Harbour.

O yeah, we had a Lindisfarne Meade tasting session as Meade was and still is a favorite drink made from honey. A bit sweet for me, but in a pitch, works great to ease the muscles. LOL

The Lindisfarne Gospels were written about 698 and is a preserved treasure of Northumbria’s Golden Age.

Day 7 is a travel day back to York via first class rail. We said our goodbyes to our travel colleagues in York. Our journey with our friends was far from over, however. We continued our adventures touring the train museum, boat cruise along the Ouse River, and miniature train back to our car in York. We drove outside the city for an evening rest before heading back to Fareham via Kings Walden.

If you look on the map for King’s Walden, there is not much to be seen but thanks to our friends driving for this excursion as we make our way back to Fareham, I was able to see where my family supposedly lived hundreds of years ago. We toured another St. Mary’s church in King’s Walden looking for grave markings, but sadly all names are obscured due to ages of neglect. We did find a pub due to re-open to new owner’s called “The Plough” that evening. Shame we could not stay for a chit chat. O well, moving on down the road.

Apparently, the Hale Estate stood for 290 years. We could not find the remains of the estate, but George Hale initially left for America from here. The community originally had 53 households, which was considered very large when compared to other Domesday era settlements. In 2001 the population was 35. Big change! Maybe, I should look at property here. You think? LOL

I did make contact with some locals who joined in the festivities at Plough @Kings Walden who shared that they knew of some Hale’s in the area. The old Estate was demolished around 1960/70 and another house was built on the property. They think we could still walk a footpath from the church to Frogmore that goes through the “Deer Park” where possible remains of the structure may be seen. Remains of some Hales are in a crypt in the church. Looking forward to our next trip to explore more.

We ended our long week of traveling back in our hotel near Fareham where we intend to share as much time as feasible with Mom, friends and family.

I started this blog describing what a causeway is physically but want you to remember the symbology of traveling from one high spot to another crossing valleys or challenges along the way. Is the trip worth the effort? I believe without a doubt if you go on faith, expect obstacles, but continue on the journeys of life, you will arrive at a new hilltop experience. Continue continuing on!

I wrote the below in response to a book festival recently attended. I thought I would share in my own blog posts. Maybe, you have a snake story or many in your past that may prompt you to share. Enjoy and keep being creative in all that you do.

An easy google search for the word Teche indicates its probable source was from the Chitimacha Indian word meaning snake. They probably saw Bayou Teche as if it were a large snake with twists and turns. If you continue with another google search, you will find the meaning of Tales as an embellished story. The following is a series of snake stories using the Teche Tales theme.

Recently, I heard that Python snakes are starting to be marketed as a food supply. Some say it tastes like chicken and others say it has a unique taste high in protein. I say never mind; I will pass. However, I have eaten exotic things in the past, like camel meat, while working in the Middle East. The thought of eating snake is not too appealing but who would have thought to eat mud bugs boiled in water with some Cajun seasoning? The taste buds are as diverse as our cultures so maybe in the near future, an investment in a Python farm will be a great return.

I do not want to spend too much time writing about eating snakes, etc. I do want to share some of my stories regarding my experiences with snakes. I had a cousin one time who tried to sword fight a snake with a pocketknife. That did not go well for him as the snake won and he spent time at the hospital being treated. He was a young boy and quickly got a lesson in things not to do in the future. I myself was blessed with a near miss of a water moccasin along a pond where I was raising catfish to sell on the side of the road. Before I tell this near miss story, did you know some snakes use intimidation when confronted? Hog-noised snakes raise up, flatten their necks like a cobra and if their bluff does not work, they roll over and play dead. As a young guy, I tried it out on one and sure enough, it rolled over, started biting itself and appeared to be dead. It did not fool me, so I waited it out for over half an hour. I walked away then it crawled away. Not all snakes are so harmless. Here is my near miss story.

As a teenager in North Louisiana looking for ways to make some pocket money, I did many things like cutting trees for pulp wood to working in a steel mill when old enough to raising catfish to sell. I was about 15 years old when I started helping my dad with the catfish farm. He provided the ponds on our property and bought the finger length channel catfish. One pond was shallow and intended for the initial growth of the catfish from finger length to about six inches long. I taught myself how to weld and made a steel frame about 4’ wide by 4’ long by 4’ deep. Styrofoam panels were used to allow the steel frame to float and thin wire screen kept the fish securely inside the frame. It worked! We would put the young catfish inside the secure frame and watched them grow. We would feed them plenty catfish food in the form of pellets, and we were in business. It was amazing to see how these fish swam all in one direction literally pushing the frame all over the pond. After they got to about 6” long, we would dip them out of the frame and put them into a larger pond to grow to about 2 to 4 pounds before harvesting. We learned from this experience that the cost of fish food continued to go up in price, making the profit margin too low for our little operation to survive. I personally learned not to cheapen my product at my expense. I learned the hard way that I could sell lots of dressed catfish on the side of the road but not too many wanted live catfish that they had to clean themselves. My price for live catfish was too high and already prepared catfish meat was too low. When I look back at those times, I learned a lot about marketing and the challenges of owning your own business. What does this story have to do with snakes? Well, early in my efforts to perfect the floating steel frame, I would walk alongside the pond. One day, I stepped just over a mama moccasin snake as she struck. One second earlier, I would have been hit with her full force and maybe my career or even life may have ended. I was alone and would have taken awhile to get help. I know it was a mama protecting her children as I jumped out of the way, the baby snakes were swimming all around the spot I had just stepped across. A guardian angel was with me that day. I am retired from Engineering and Project management after 35 years traveling all over the world. I am also a local pastor. What could have been my future? Give thanks in all things and be grateful for God’s prevenient grace. By the way, that steel frame is now used as a foundation for a deer stand not too far from the original pond in North Louisiana. As I segway into my next story, perhaps you have similar stories of near misses in your life. Looking forward to reading your story.

When I graduated from La. Tech in Ruston in 1977 with a BSME degree, my career took me all over the world. I met and fell in love with a girl from England working in Scotland. We celebrated our 45^th anniversary on St. Patrick’s Day, 2024. From Scotland, we moved to the Middle East and here is where this snake story begins. We did not have fancy smart phones so had to rely on land lines or mail to stay in contact with friends and relatives. One day, while working in Dubai, UAE, I got a letter from back home in Louisiana. The letter was a lot of family catching up from my mother, but the last paragraph got my immediate attention. She said nonchalantly that she had been bitten by a copper head snake while cutting the grass. It struck and one fang caught her index finger. She concluded the letter by saying she is okay now. You can imagine my reaction. I scheduled an overseas phone call right away to get the full story. Here it is.

As she told me the story, I could not help but think how it could have been if she had no help to get her to the hospital. After the snake struck her index finger, my older sister, who was home at the time, was urging her to go to the hospital. There was a delay as she was making sure she was properly dressed and presentable for a hospital visit. Typical for my mom but could have been tragic if she had delayed much longer and even more so if she had been on her own. By the time they were heading to the hospital, my sister was driving, and my mom was milking her finger to try to keep the poison away from the rest of her body. The finger started turning colors from red to nearly black. The doctor gave her two choices. One was to graft her finger to her stomach, which would have been very awkward, or to graft her index finger to her middle finger. She chose the latter and for several months the fingers became one. Her index finger was saved but was permanently scarred as if she had stuck her finger in the spokes of bicycle chain. It looked twisted but survived. What could have been the results had circumstances been different? We can either believe in things are just randomly occurring or we can believe in God’s intervention. I prefer to believe that He is ultimately in control. Does that mean, we will always prevail life’s mishaps? No, but His presence is in all that we do. I can go on and on with many more stories but conclude with this last one from the Bible.

I sometimes wonder why biblical stories, especially in the Old Testament, have such a direct approach in getting people to understand their ways are not correct. Take, Numbers 21 starting at verse 5 which states, “The people spoke against God and Moses: “Why did you bring us up from Egypt to kill us in the desert, where there is no food or water. And we detest this miserable bread!” So, the Lord sent poisonous snakes among the people, and they bit the people.”

Two questions to consider. Why would the people complain having just been freed of bondage in Egypt? It is our human nature to just get by with what we have. People will accept the pain of what they know over the fear of the unknown. Why would God punish them with snakes? Read more in Numbers then jump to John 3 starting at verse 14 to get the answer. It is our salvation story.

Bayou Teche gets its name, we presume, through the indigenous people in the area. Snakes were part of their day-to-day existence and most likely were a source of many stories from sad endings to victory. Consider your snake stories and thank our Creator for our very existence.

Why am I here? Why have I lived so long when others are gone? Why did my life go as it did and what is my future? Why did I choose to go this way in life instead of an alternative?

These are questions we may be fortunate to ask ourselves in the future if we live long enough. The alternative is hard to imagine but so true for many. Sad but true that many live a mediocre life with very little to say they accomplished. Why? Because they failed to overcome fear of the unknown instead of embracing faith in the future.

As I write on a jet plane heading back to the good ole USA, I am inspired by the events of the last few months to ask why. The plan was to travel to England, have a party for my mother-in-law who is now in her 100^th year, visit friends and family, have a short vacation to Budapest, then wrap up our trip spending as much time as we could with this grand lady. All of that was achieved so I can say mission accomplished, but along the way I discovered it was much more than just a trip.

As we visited my mother-in-law just about every day, before the party, we went out with friends as well. On one occasion, we just so happened to meet a relative. She was preparing to get off work as a busy dentist and needed to move her car for another staff member who was leaving early. We had just parked our car and were walking to the pub when we heard her shouting. Some may call that a coincidence, but I prefer to call it a “God wink”. We all went to the pub together recognizing the gift. Why did this happen and what are the odds of such a coincidence? I believe it gave us a chance to visit one on one before the 100^th party.  You may say, who cares? I say I do because it was a once in a lifetime experience to put into our memory bank. Do you believe we are led to great memories when we step out and do things others may not do?

As the party approached, we spent more time with my wife’s mom and listened to her stories about her life. Yes, sometimes we shed a tear as she looked back at memories of her husband. Sometimes we laughed as she remembered why they did what they did during their early years of marriage. They traveled to many different countries choosing not to stay at home but to go on adventures she now has in her memories. There are always challenges when travelling but should not stop building memories.

On the night before the party, family gathered for an evening meal to spend time with each other. We built new memories to look forward to new times together. Will we precisely meet this way again? Probably not but those in attendance will remember that night for years to come. Likewise, the next day was a day we will certainly remember but unlike the earlier evening’s gathering this day will be once in a lifetime. Why? Because my wife’s mom is alive and present to share her special magic of living to the maximum without any regrets. How many of us can actually claim no regrets?

She has raised the question of why am I here? Why have I lived so long when others are gone? These questions cannot be answered by us mortals. All we can do is live according to our dreams led by our faith overcoming the fear of inaction. This time led us to our next adventure to a country we knew little about until now.

When I think of Budapest, before our trip, I think it is a nice stop if taking a river cruise along the Danube in Europe. Nice stop to see sights then back on the boat. What a naïve look at this historic beautiful place full of history and hard-fought freedom. Did the Hungarian people ask why? Yes!

The river Danube separates Buda from Pest. Buda is mountainous on one side and Pest is flatter on the other side. Lots of walking up steps on either side but a big contrast, nevertheless. Pest has multiple thermal baths which made them a target for Roman occupation well before the Germans showed up when the reign of terror started.

Victims of two murderous ideologies numbered in the millions from either attempt to gain freedom or Jewish persecution. Nazism was first then when they were freed at the end of WW2 from this totalitarian dictatorship they were enslaved again with communism. The Hungarians are very independent now and will never forget the constant threat from foreign entities claiming a utopian future. By 1956, they rose up against the communist puppet regime only to be crushed back into servitude. They paid a huge price for rebellion. The “Lads and Girls of Pest” fought bravely with Molotov cocktails against the T-54 Russian tanks, but failure was inevitable. Hungary had managed to separate themselves from the communist after WW1 and aligned themselves with Germany during WW2 which was a devastating mistake. The Nazis regime was brutal and treated the Hungarian people as slaves but then the communist gained control again after victory in WW2. The spoils of war were the Hungarian people. They never really obtained their freedom until 1989 when the Iron Curtain fell. It took another year before the last communist left, and they were declared a democratic nation in 1991.

Why did the Nazis then the communists treat the Hungarian people with so much distaste and keep them in bondage? Because they were allowed due to complacency. Why is Ukraine being bombed daily by Putin’s war machine hoping they will surrender? Same reason in that everyone else turns a blind eye hoping it will go away. Why do some survive, and others perish?

I am now home now where the news is focused only on what the news media want us to hear. We live in an insulated world where other news around the world seems to have little substance. Will we eventually find ourselves back in the fight when some fanatic decides to attack like at Pearl Harbor? Why are we so willing to allow fleshly comforts to overcome our heavenly obligations to focus on our creator?

I just returned from a spirit filled conference where my church affiliation is getting back to that focus not adjusting to worldly compromise. The Nazis war machine nearly destroyed our freedom and took the lives of many of the Jewish communities because they believed they were superior. The communists are trying even today, to change the scenario to their advantage. Why are we allowing human desires to change the very fabric of our creator’s desires. Do I know specifically His desires? No but neither does anyone else. Why do some live in fear trying to hide under new social norms while others live in faith, praying for guidance from our heavenly father, our creator of all things?

As I finish writing down my thoughts of the last few months, I am hit with some reality checks. One of our friends in England is diagnosed with an illness and now undergoing chemo. We pray for his recovery. One of my church members has a close friend who lost a young boy due to a drowning accident. Why do we experience such senseless tragedies? A young child had his life’s experiences ahead of him is now gone. Why? It is not our role to second guess but know that God loves us. We can say, if that is true then why take away loved ones especially so young. He may love us but does not interfere with the consequences of our choices unless it is His will to intervene. It was an accident that will be put into our memory bank for perhaps a greater purpose. Drowning is the leading cause of death for children aged 1 to 4, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The later word “prevention” may be hard to accept but the consequences of our choices may have a significant role in the event. If God did not accept our free will to choose, how can we grow to reach our potential? Without our willingness to seek God, live by faith in Him, make good choices, while not living in fear of inaction, His plan for us may or may not be revealed in our time on earth.

Also, as I finish this writing, yet another loss of life in my circle of friends was witnessed. My friend had just been re-married for less than a year after losing his previous wife to illness. Now, his new bride is gone also due to illness. Why does some seem to be overly impacted by loss of loved ones? As mere mortals, we do not have an answer but through our journey on faith, God will strengthen us to endure the pain in order to obtain ultimate victory.

Please join me to question all things, while being guided by the Holy Spirit to overcome human weakness to conform. May we conform not to this world but to the everlasting world to come rejoicing in final victory through the one and only one creator of all things. Praise God!

T

I was given a challenge to write a quick story consisting of 1500 words at an author’s festival in New Iberia, Louisiana called “Teche Literary Festival” on April 1st, 2023. The topic was on “Southern Drawl”. I did not win the contest but thought it was good anyway. O, well, maybe next time. Here is my story. “Bear It” By Terry A. Lindsey. You can read other stories and novels at: www.amazon.com/author/terrylindsey

I was born in Alaska. My mom planned to stay with me for two years then kick me out into the world to fend for myself. My dad was gone most of the time. Life as I knew it was soon to be changed forever.

In the winter of my second year, my dad came to my mom in our den and said it was time to immigrate. My mom was indignant saying we do not leave our home of our birth. Life in Alaska is great so why would we move? All our friends are here, and in the summers, it is a wonderful time to explore the North Slope. We just have to keep our distance from those monsters who look like us in a way but have no body hair. They are very dangerous but there are so many of us, we have learned how to keep away from these strange creatures. Sometimes they move on two hind legs and sometimes they get into some contraption that makes a loud noise and moves on mysterious looking feet that tear up our beautiful landscape. Other than that annoyance, why should we want to move?

My dad replied because there are too many of us and we should look for a new land that we can live in peace. Besides, those monsters are always trying to kill us with a magical stick that makes a loud noise. I am sick of seeing my brothers and sisters being hauled off on one of the contraptions with strange feet. We will never see them again. I want us to stay together and make a new life down in the Lower 48. My mom said, “What! You want to go outside.” Yes, he said, and I want us to stay together as a family. She said, we do not do that. You have been with most of my girlfriends and only come around when it is time for a new offspring. Our son here will soon join your band of brothers only looking for food, water, and your yearly fun during the winter before you laze around your den. You men are so single focused, it makes me want to throw up. My dad then shocked us both that he has changed and wants a monogamous relationship and explore new land. I was listening to the exchange amazed. I did not know any land except our den and a few miles outside roaming and playing with others my age. Now, we were about to move. I was looking forward to going out to the bush on my own but now that would all change. What was I about to experience?

As the winter turned to spring, we started our journey to the lower 48, but first we had to go through another area called Canada. We saw even more of us living here, much the same as where we came from, but they had some strange ways about them. They spoke similar to us but had some funny ways to pronounce things. They said they had picked up this from listening to those weird creatures who had no body hair. It seemed that these creatures had come to their land from all over the world to settle here. My dad said this was nice, but we need to continue our journey.

He decided to take us along the west coast of the lower 48. We left our Canadian friends and traveled through Washington, Oregon, and California. That took us several months, only stopping to rest, catch food and observe many strange creatures. Of course, we still had to keep away from those hairless creatures, but the rest seemed friendly enough though our experience from home taught us not to become too friendly. We did find some of our kin folk, but their way of speaking was even more strange. Likewise, they had picked up the accents from other creatures. California seemed to have the wildest dialect. They spoke with a slang saying things like being stoked, a gnarly day, and Hella instead of really. I thought they all seemed a bit weird as if on some kind of drug but who am I to think anything just becoming two? Our kin rolled their eyes at us and wondered what we were doing so far from home. My mom kept asking the same thing, but my dad said let’s keep going.

We continued through Nevada fishing along the Colorado River and traveling along the Grand Canyon. That was exciting to see the huge walls of rock. We got to New Mexico and were advised to stay away from Texas because if you enter, you may not leave. We were a bit perplexed at that warning so decided not to take a chance. Instead, we went through Oklahoma and Arkansas before we turned south to Louisiana. My dad then declared “woo wee.” We looked at him with disgust. As we continued south, we saw very little of our kind but saw the ever-present hairless wonders along with deer, squirrels, rabbits, racoons, foxes, wolves, bobcats, armadillos, etc. They all spoke their native language but with what we found out to be a “red neck” dialect. The armadillos were probably the most unique creatures in that they made all sorts of noises and did not care who saw them. They seemed to be in a different world with no care in the world. Maybe because they wore protective armor or maybe they were just too simple. Who knows? They did speak with similar dialects with sayings like y’all instead of you all or you guys. It seems they had a distinctive dialect coming from Northern England who settled in the South where the origin of the Southern Drawl lies.[i] Whether redneck or southern drawl, it did seem that the further south we went, we began to see other folks of our kinship as well as some new creatures called alligators living along the water.

My dad gave me strict instructions not to get too close to the water as those alligators had no pity for anything they thought they could drown and eat later. We moved all the way to New Iberia, Louisiana before my dad declared that this was our new home. By the time we had arrived winter was once again, but the cold was nothing like Alaska. We did not even find a nice deep crevice in the rocks to build our den. All we had was a hidden area along the Teche to make our home. The Southern Drawl as described early mostly of Northern England now included French, Spanish, and Acadian from Canada called Cajuns.

During my third year as I grew more into a handsome guy, I never forgot my roots in Alaska but embraced my new culture. My mom and dad never really established a monogamist relation. My mom tried but my dad could not get away from his basic instinct. The ladies down here spoke with so much grace in the Cajun dialect he could not resist them saying Bonjour Cher. He would just melt into their arms. My mom finally said, oh well he was just Lagniappe now I can have a Fais-do-do with all my girl and boy friends until it is time to sleep.

As far as my experiences, I continue to learn the lessons of the swamp and not get too close to the Cocodrie as they only open their mouths to eat. They are no fun at all. I try to ignore them but sometimes I just shout back at them saying I will put the Gris-gris on you. I have started following along my dad’s footsteps and becoming a real ladies’ man though I have a lot to learn about them. I cannot understand their ways. My dad says, C’est Bon as he has learned to speak Cajun but still not how to treat women here or back home.  I have also gotten good at staying away from those monsters with no body hair. Sometimes, they travel along the water in another contraption called a pirogue catching fish and other strange creatures called crawfish. Those things do not look like any fish I have seen but one day, I may give it a try. Many of these hairless creatures also immigrated from Canada on the east side where we traveled on the west side. We do have a lot in common. It seems we were escaping our homeland to find another land where we can live in peace. To that, I say well done!

So, as I grow into a full-sized Black Bear immigrated from Alaska to Cajun country I will just learn how to “bear it”.

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[i] https://magoosh.com/english-speaking/the-southern-drawl-breakdown-of-an-american-accent/#:~:text=However%2C%20rural%20and%20less%20wealthy,of%20the%20Southern%20Drawl%20lie