A short post.
Hibbs, the cub with no clue, just gave his 'that'll be the day' snicker.
That's enough out of you, fur face.
But on to the topic of today's post:
How time gilds the guilty.
It is the season of our city's second Mardi Gras: Contraband Days.
It is based upon a bit of our city's colorful history --
Almost three centuries ago, a notorious and ruthless pirate, Jean Lafitte, fled to this region with his band of buccaneers as enemy ships pursued him on his way west to Galveston, Texas.
Legend has it that Lafitte would hide out along the waterways here in Lake Charles.
Whispers around the campfires have it that his favorite hideout was Contraband Bayou in Lake Charles.
If you set out on your boat upon its silver glass surface at night, it is said you may see his ghost, looking in vain for his lost treasure.
In fact, the bayou got its name from the rumored gold and silver hidden somewhere along its winding length. Hence the name of our festival:
There was other contraband in Lafitte's ships:
It is rumored that he often sold slaves to Jim Bowie in the waterways of Lake Charles.
As you can imagine, many of our black citizens take an underwhelmed view towards a festival where the contraband might well have been some of their ancestors.
But the Cajun spirit to party hardy is not easily put aside.
So Contraband Days stays as the city's largest festival.
The money it adds to the city's pockets is nothing to sneeze at either.
The ghost of Jean Lafitte
is probably laughing somewhere tonight
in the bayou's billowing