Looking Ahead
Today is Tuesday, October 30, 2012 Hurricane Sandy is one cold lady! Irony: I came from Louisiana and ended up on the edge of a hurricane! I encourage you to read this powerful message on the Sovereignty of God by my pastor, Charlie Bailey. Our newest short story collection, Christmas Jelly, is now available. I’ve posted one of my favorite short stories from the new book. Order here: Lazarus’ Second Funeral is from my latest book, Christmas Jelly. This story is one of several fictional ones in the new book. It comes from a thought I had: Lazarus died again. He died, was raised from the dead by Jesus, then later died again. That led to this short story. Enjoy! Lazarus’ Second Funeral I guess I’m only one who attended both of Boaz Lazurus’ funerals. The second one was yesterday. The first one was thirty-one years ago. Folks around here simply call me “Rabbi.” It’s a name I like. I remember Lazarus’ funeral well. I was a young rabbi, only recently assigned to the Bethany synagogue. I’ll never forget the raw grief of his two sisters, Mary and Martha. I had grown to love the Lazarus family and spent lots of time with them in the days leading up to his death. It was like being on a storm in the sea. Up one minute, down the next. The sisters had such hope that The Teacher would come and heal him. Martha, the older of the sisters, stood at the edge of town for two days waiting for Jesus to arrive. He didn’t come. And Lazarus died. Like the sisters, I questioned why the Teacher didn’t come when summoned. He’d supposedly healed the blind and lame. He could’ve healed his dear friend. But Lazarus died. I helped with the preparation, funeral, and burial. I was gone for a week after his burial. First Jerusalem then Jericho. On my way home to Bethany, I began hearing strange stories as I encountered travelers. Jesus had raised a man from the dead. A man from Bethany. The rumors used many names. Boaz was such a common name. It couldn’t be him. I had felt his cold body. I had helped bury him. Lazarus had died.
Curt’s Current Six Words
Curt’s Current Six words Pray Passionately Walk Daily Connect in Relationships Focused Simplicity Live with Gratitude! LLL be a Life Long Learner As of Oct. 19, 2012
Matthew 6:33 A Verse to Live By
My life verse is Matthew 6:33. Here are several one of my English language versions. 33 But seek ye first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you. NKJV 33 But seek (aim at and strive after) first of all His kingdom and His righteousness (His way of doing and being right), and then all these things taken together will be given you besides. ASV 33 But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. ESV Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. The Message
Everyone deserves to hear . . . Friday, October 19
Every person I know back home has had a chance to hear the Gospel. Many are lost. However, none of them haven’t heard. There’s a church on every corner in Beauregard Parish. People like the man in the photo haven’t heard. Everyone deserves one chance to hear about Jesus. The vision of the International Mission Board is that a multitude from every language, people, tribe, and nation will know and worship the Lord Jesus Christ.
History of Early Dry Creek Schools
This fascinating article is from an earlier Dry Creek historian, Belle Singletary. Ms. Singletary lived in Dry Creek with W.B. “Bill” and Mary Jane Lindsey. She taught a generation of students at DeRidder High School. Faces ….Places #3 appeared at unknown date in1964 in the Beauregard News BEAUREGARD NEWS, DE RIDDER, LOUISIANA (Exact date unknown), 1964 Faces . . . Places #3 By Belle Singletary Dry Creek’s first schoolhouse was built of logs with a dirt chimney, by Burkett Lindsey in 1859 – and not too far from the last Dry Creek School. (The late William Burkett Lindsey, grandson of Great-grandfather Burkett, was one of the carpenters, who in 1912, built the 6-room Dry Creek School, and who in the year 1920, built the lovely colonial mansion-type school house, which now stands deserted near the Dry Creek Post Office). Turn left at the Dry Creek Post Office and drive about two or more miles on Louisiana Highway 394, heading toward DeRidder, and you will soon have K. R. Hanchey’s pinetree farm to your right. A few hundred yards over, in this pasture, across from the present Green Town Road, is the location of Pine Water Hole School. This was a private school, and was about 1 mile from the Burkett Lindsey Homestead. This first Dry Creek School was attended by the Lindsey children, the William Hanchey children (Supt. K. R. Hanchey’s Great-grandfather lived about two miles east of Pine Water Hole School), the William Green children, the Rice children (relatives of Mrs. Green) the Williams’ children and others. There is a branch that flows through Kenny’s pasture and on across Louisiana Highway 394 and helps make the pond in front of Frank Miller’s lovely county home. This branch is listed on United States maps today, as School House Branch. The Reverend J. B. Ford, a Baptist preacher, was the teacher of this private school. He taught on school days and preached on weekends in the log schoolhouse. The first known baptizing at Dry Creek took place in the blue hole of water on School House Branch, near Frank’s pond. Polly and Jim Rice were baptized by Rev. Ford. Second School at Dry Creek The second school at Dry Creek was established in the year 1882 or 1883 on Burkett Lindsey’s property – the land across Little Dry Creek. John McNeese, the renowned Louisiana educator for whom McNeese State College was named, taught there in 1885, according to Dr. E. L. Miller of Jena, Louisiana. Mrs. W. B. Lindsey, nearing 90, adds that McNeese and his daughter Emma (Squires), who was a school girl, lived with Mr. McNeese’s brother-in-law, Monroe Lindsey, for the school session. Rob Lindsey, 76, Winfrey Lindsey, 80, Lawrence Lindsey, 89, and Ras Miller, 90 – all grandsons of Burkett Lindsey, do not remember the name of the above mentioned school. This seems to be lost to posterity. Does anyone know? Dr. Ras was a student at the school on Little Dry Creek, but does not recall the teachers before John McNeese. He wrote me on January 3 of this year, that the school burned one night following a disciplinary problem. “The next morning (Saturday) the men of the community met at the scene..Suddenly my father said, ‘Let us get back here at 1 o’clock and do something..’ They did, and by noon Monday a shed was completed and supplied with seats. Uncle Monroe (Lindsey) built a blackboard. The school continued until the term was finished”. My Grandpa Albert and Grandad Monroe’s older children attended this school. (Grandpa Albert was my Mother Mattie’s father: Granddad Monroe was my foster father, William Burkett’s father. Brothers they were, but both of them in their lifetime were my grandfathers.) Great Uncle Jim Miller and great Aunt Laura Lindsey Miller’s children attended the school on their grandfather’s property. The late Nathan Miller, son of Levi Miller, and father of Frank Miller, and other members of this neighboring family were taught by John McNeese. Ever so many families were represented at the “Black Burn”school, as it was called after the Friday night disaster. Oakland School Established By 1889 Oakland School was located in the Green Town Settlement. I do not know the exact date that the loghouse was built. I do have on my desk a copy of History of the United States Prepared Especially for Schools by Dr. John Clark Ridpath of Depauw University in 1885. There is a beautifully done scroll, bearing the inscription: Wm. B. Lindsey, Oakland, July 17, 89. Under Oakland is drawn an oak sprig with leaves and an acorn. So, W. B. Lindsey was a student at Oakland in 1889. LeRoy Johnson from Grant, Louisiana taught the first school at Oakland. This was a winter term. In 1897, Mr. Hawkings Carroll of Merryville taught his first school at Oakland. (Mr. Carroll, please, if I’m wrong correct me. I’d like to know more about your Oakland teaching days.) Some of the Albert and Monroe Lindsey children attended Oakland under Carroll. Rob and Mag, no doubt – Perhaps Winfrey and McNeese did. The older Will McFatter boys attended as did most all of the Green Town children. Mount Moriah 1892 Mount Moriah, a lumber box school house, according to Rob Lindsey and Ras Miller, was built in 1892. R. L. Butler was the first teacher. (I recall Bill Lindsey telling me that the first teacher at Mount Moriah was a student at Peabody College and a brilliant scholar). School at Mount Moriah was usually taught in the summer. Then the teacher would return to college for another session. Dr. Ras Miller wrote that in 1893 Robert G. Corkern taught there. He also taught in 1894. (He married Bill Kent’s daughter Mary. Mary lives in Natchitoches. Robert is dead). I remember when R. G. Corkern was Superintendent of Allen Parish Schools. That was many years after he taught my Uncle Rob, my Aunts – Ollie, Hattie, Mag, and Lou, and my mother Mattie at Mount Moriah in 1893 –
Wings and Roots: Purple Martins
An An Adult Male Purple Martin Wings and Roots If you ask what I like best about purple martins, I’d reply, “It’s how these birds have wings and roots.” One of the joys of my rural life is the six months yearly the martins spend as my guests. These migratory birds, members of the swallow family, first arrive in Louisiana in February. Two months later, they begin building nests, and by June, the first eggs hatch. The baby birds are flying by July, and the entire colony will be gone by August. When you understand their history and habits, you’ll grasp why I love them. Long before my ancestors came to Louisiana, Native Americans had colonized them after discovering how they devoured mosquitoes by the thousands. The Indians hung birdhouses made from dried gourds attracting these birds, which seemed to prefer living near humans. Early pioneers also adopted these birds, and martin boxes and gourds were common around early dwellings. This love affair between humans and martins has continued as people expectantly await their arrival each spring. If you ask most martin landlords what they love best about the birds, the answer is usually, “Their singing is beautiful.” It’s hard to describe their song. I’ve heard it said in so many ways: “A bubbling sound going up and down.” “A happy song.” “That singing as they gargle creek water and grit their teeth,” was how one older woman explained it. Regardless of the description, it’s a song to love. Coming outside on a spring morning and hearing their playful singing, I’m happy knowing they’ve paid me the honor of spending part of the year with my family. The hatched babies quickly grow, “feather up,” and are soon making their first tentative flights. Last year, during this time when the young are very susceptible to predators, I found a squawking baby on the ground. Before our cat could find it, I scooped the trembling bird up. Opening my hands, I tossed the young bird into the air. It struggled and flew a short distance. Chasing it down, I caught the bird and tossed it again into the air. This time it flew much further before landing among high grass in our field. I left it there, hoping for the best. Standing there is when I thought about my youngest son, Terry. He is leaving within a few weeks for a summer in Southern Central Asia. He’ll be hiking along the historic rivers and foothills of the Himalayas in this remote and fascinating part of the world. Just as I’ve tossed the martin in the air, Terry’s mother and I are doing the same for him. We trust the Lord, as well as this young man we’ve raised. From my own Asian trips, I’ve learned you never come back the same. Seeing the vast world and its great poverty changes Americans—as it should. I know he will come back different—stronger, wiser, and looking at his own world differently. He’ll even look at Wal -Mart differently. Talking to others after Third World trips, they invariably bring the conversation to this statement: “I’ll never be able to walk down a crowded aisle at Wal-Mart again without thinking how the rest of the world lives.” Often they’ll mention the cereal section, while others mention the pet care aisles. Always, they emotionally put it in the context of the world’s great needs versus our own abundance. Terry will feel that too. Just like my new flying birds, he’s going on a long journey from which one never returns to earth quite the same. As June drifts by, all of the young birds leave the nest. The sky is now filled with martins everywhere, the young birds joining their parents in flight. They soar in the wind, and it is obvious they’re enjoying doing what they were born to do. Watching their flight, I understand why men in earlier times attempted building flying machines. We humans are always subconsciously jealous when we see a soaring bird. King David’s words express this, “Oh, that I had wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest.” (Psalms 55:6) Watching these young birds fly, the sad thought hits me as to how soon they’ll all be gone. One morning soon, probably within a month, I’ll walk outside to enjoy their singing and flying, only to find the sky is silent, and my birds gone. I recall the previous February when the first two martin scouts arrived on a cold rainy day. I was surprised seeing them this early in such bad weather. The pair stayed throughout the day huddled on the box ledge. Then, as abruptly as they had appeared, they disappeared. However, I knew they would eventually be back. Sure enough, within a week they were back with their entire colony. Martins spend their winters in Brazil, nesting in hollow trees and living among the great expanse of the Amazon jungle. Sometime after the first of the year, as their instincts tell them the time is right, they begin flying in small groups northward. Ornithologists believe they fly in collections of three or four to avoid entire colonies being wiped out in storms over the Gulf of Mexico. Following their long journey across the sea, they reach mainland North America. Upon arrival, they regroup into large flocks near bodies of water, replenishing and resting after this exhausting flight. Shortly after grouping up in these huge colonies along the southern coast, the martin scouts head back to the exact site of the previous year’s nesting site, which is the place of birth for most of the colony. There is some difference of opinion concerning how the scouts travel to and from the nesting site. Some speculate they navigate to their homes by the position of the stars. However, their unerring travel, even in overcast weather, raises questions concerning that theory. It’s enough to say that they have a unique inner instinct honing in
Holding the Ladder
Thursday, October 11 The following powerful story is from a choice couple serving in a difficult part of North Africa. I cannot list their names but beg you to pray for them and their sweet children. Dear Friends and Family, Thank you for being such an encouragement to us. I was watching a man across the street painting a house. He had 2 ladders tied together. He was trying his best to reach the top but every time he stretched the ladder wiggled and wobbled. I thought he was going to surely fall. Fortunately, another man showed up and helped hold the ladder steady at the bottom. The man tried again and stretched this time the ladder did not wobble. But when another man showed up in addition to the first to hold the ladder steady, this gave the man confidence to climb up one more rung in order to reach that previously “unreachable” spot on the wall. The word says, Two are better than one…and a cord of three strands is not easily broken”…Thank you for supporting us, working along side us…we know He has all authority and promises to never leave nor forsake us. When you pr ay and lift up and support the work, it’s like we gain confidence and courage… to climb one more rung, reach one more previously “unreachable” soul with the Good news. TAKE NOTE HOW OUR BROTHERS/SISTERS IN CLOSED COUNTRIES MUST CHOOSE THEIR WORDS CAREFULLY AS IN “THE WORD” AND “PR AY.”
Our Weatherman
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Christmas Jelly: Coming soon to a stocking near you.
Cool breeze in the pines. October afternoon at The Old House In the edge of Crooked Bayou Swamp. All quiet on the Southern front Except for the occasional acorn on the tin roof And a murder of crows taunting a cat squirrel. Monday, October 8 We’re excited about the upcoming release of Christmas Jelly. This short story collection features thirty short stories celebrating Christmas in the piney woods of Louisiana. Stay tuned this week to our blog, Facebook page, and website for more information. Two talented young people have lent their skills to Christmas Jelly. Julian Quebedeaux has once again performed his magic and created a memorable cover for our latest book. In addition, he set up the interior of the book. Julian, a recent UNO film graduate, works as a librarian with the Calcasieu Parish Library in DeQuincy. East Beauregard student Ashley Miller served as editor on this collection of stories, recipes, and tidbits celebrating Christmas in the unique piney woods of SW Louisiana. Ashley is a descendant of many pioneer families who settled in Louisiana’s “No Man’s Land” in the 19th century. The painting shown on the back cover hangs in honor at The Old House in Dry Creek. It is one of our favorite paintings by my uncle, Bill Iles.
All You Need to Know About Today
Monday, October 1 Assurance for Today None of us know. What today will bring. What may be lurking out there tomorrow. What our life will be like 5 years from now. It doesn’t matter because we can trust the strong hands of Jesus to hold us and our world together. That’s all we need to know.
Thumbnail Sketch: The Iles’ go to Africa
The Journey Curt and DeDe Iles serving on East African Engaged Team Curt and DeDe Iles will begin serving in Uganda in 2013. They’ll be working as Master’s/International Service Corps workers with the International Mission Board. After two months of training in Virginia, they’ll make a short Christmas trip home, and then begin their two-year term in Africa. The purpose of the Engaged Team is to seek out Unreached Unengaged People Groups* in the region. This includes Uganda, Tanzania, South Sudan, Eastern Democratic Congo, and Rwanda/Burundi. U.U.P.G.s* are people groups with no current Gospel work and very limited exposure to the Good News of Jesus. The Iles’ will be learning about these groups, visiting their areas, establishing relationships, and sharing information back to the Christian community in both Africa and America. As they write and use social media to tell stories and needs, their prayer is that Native African churches and American congregations will prayerfully partner to reach a group, tribe, or village. Additionally, DeDe will use her teaching experience to work with both Missionary Kids and Seminary students. You’ll be able to follow their journey and stories at http://www.creekbank.net as well as Facebook: Curt Iles and Creekbank Stories. Their work is totally supported by the Cooperative Program and Lottie Moon Christmas Offering. They do solicit your prayers and partnership. You can learn more about Unreached Peoples at www.joshuaproject.net www.operationworld.org as well as http://www.imb.org Curt and DeDe Iles http://www.creekbank.net curt@http://www.creekbank.net dede_iles@hotmail.com PO Box 332 Dry Creek, LA 70637 Creekbank Book Information Personal assistant Judi Reeves will continue to handle all book-related matters. She can be reached at jaycee52003@yahoo.com or 337.328.7276 as well as http://www.creekbank.net
Words of Affirmation from Tim Patrick
Scroll to end of post to read complete lyrics of today’s “Can’t get it out of my head” song: “The Israelites” early Reggae. A word from Curt: Our heart is full of gratitude for the love, support, and affirmation we received during last weekend’s TheJourney Estate Sale. DeDe and I are blessed beyond words. The proceeds from the sale are part of our simplification/balance plan to serve in Africa. Thank you! Tim Patrick is my friend and our local Director of Mission for Beauregard Baptist Association You can follow his excellent blog at http://www.theshepherdsconnection.org/ Feel free to share this message with your friends The Power of Affirmation Written by Tim Patrick October is pastor appreciation month. I encourage you to practice this in your church. However, I want to carry this principle much deeper. I would like for you to consider the power of the affirming word. Words have the power to bless or curse. James said “Out of the same mouth proceed blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not to be so.”( James 3:10) James was not advocating both blessing and cursing. He was instructing us in proper use of the tongue. We should avoid the negative, destructive use of the tongue. It is one thing to avoid criticism and destructive talk. It is another to provide positive and encouraging words. We may never engage in destructive talk; however, do we get around to building others up with positive words. The Bible says “the words of the pure are pleasant”(Prov. 15”26); “the words of a man’s mouth are deep waters” (Prov. 18:4); “the words of a wise man’s mouth are gracious.”(Ecc. 10:12) There are sins of commission when we sin against another person. There are also sins of omission when we fail to fulfill our responsibility. Affirming words have a way of building the other person. Affirming words bring out the best in the other person. Human nature provokes us to think that negative words accomplish the most good. That is far from the truth. Affirming words are the champion of human relationships. You can accomplish more with ten affirming words than one-hundred negative words. Negative words tear down and damage relationships. Paul said “Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal.”(I Cor. 13:1) In other words I can be religious and fulfill many religious deeds, but if my faith does not produce loving actions (such as affirmation) I am nothing more than a bag of religious hypocrisy. How can we fulfill this task, as a Christian? Affirm the pastor. Affirm the worship leader. Affirm your Sunday school teacher. Affirm your fellow church members At home, affirm your family members. At work, affirm your fellow employees. Affirm the person who waits your table. Affirm the person who changes your oil. I have a hunch all of us need God’s help being “gracious” and affirming with the words of our mouth. I challenge you to be affirming of your pastor. He will preach better, visit harder, and work more diligently when he is supported with affirming words. Oh, by the way, this will work with everyone to whom you relate. Get up in the morning, slaving for bread, sir, so that every mouth can be fed. Poor me, the Israelite. Aah. Get up in the morning, slaving for bread, sir, So that every mouth can be fed. Poor me, the Israelite. Aah. My wife and my kids, they are packed up and leave me. Darling, she said, I was yours to be seen. Poor me, the Israelite. Aah. Shirt them a-tear up, trousers are gone. I don’t want to end up like Bonnie and Clyde. Poor me, the Israelite. Aah. After a storm there must be a calm. They catch me in the farm. You sound the alarm. Poor me, the Israelite. Aah. Poor me, the Israelite. I wonder who I’m working for. Poor me, Israelite, I look a-down and out, sir.
TheJourney Estate Sale
Iles Estate Sale continues Friday, Sept 21 8 am -6am Sat. Sept. 22 8-3 The first day of our Estate Sale (Thursday) was a special day. Wonderful weather, few love bugs, and hundreds of folks descending on the Iles home. We continue on Friday beginning at 8 am. Many of our advertised items were sold today but there is still a good selection of various items at a 30 % reduction from first day prices. 8030 La. Hwy 394 Dry Creek, LA The Iles Family is selling out and moving to Africa. Great deals on home furnishings, garden/work tools, appliances, vintage items, dishes, etc. Learn more at http://www.creekbank.net or call 337 396 1874 Facebook: TheJourney Estate Sale Follow us! Pinterest: curtiles/TheJourney Board Directions to 8030 La. Hwy 394 Dry Creek, LA
The feared Black Love Bugs of the Gulf South: Plecia neartica
It’s Love Bug season in Louisiana. This timely short story is from Hearts across the Water written after Hurricanes Katrina and Rita in 2005. Black Bugs Over and over in the days leading up to the hurricane’s arrival people used this statement that reveals the human tendency to look for the silver lining in even the darkest cloud, “Well, at least Rita will wash away the black bugs.” We heard variations on that many times. Well, Rita passed and all was quiet and bug free … for two days. Then on Sunday, the day after the storm, they were back. The hated black bugs had returned. I’m not sure where they rode out the storm but they evidently weren’t blown north because they were still out in force. Now if you don’t live in areas where the black bugs come twice yearly you may not understand this story. How could an infestation of non-biting non-stinging insects cause such consternation? These black bugs, which are really black with orange, are called “love bugs” in the Southern Gulf coastal areas of the United States. This is due to their usually being found in mating pairs as they fly about. Their scientific name is Plecia neartica. Their emergence twice yearly, in May and September, is always a topic of disgust and great conversation. Instead of the causal, “It sure is hot today,” people lament, “Have you ever seen the black bugs worse than this?” That is why their being blown away to Arkansas or Tennessee was such a conversation starter. Their arrival, especially in the fall during mid-September, occurs in Egyptian plague proportions. They are everywhere. For some reason they are attracted to anything white. Our Adult Center, “The White House” becomes a huge love bug magnet during this time. You can sweep them off the porches in piles. The one-sided love affair between love bugs and vehicles is interesting. According to the University Of Florida Department Of Agriculture, love bugs are attracted to automobile exhaust fumes during daylight hours as the day’s temperatures warm up. Hot engines and the vibrations of vehicles also contribute to why these black bugs are found along highways and around vehicles. Because of their attraction to gasoline fumes, any visit to the gasoline pumps is an ordeal in black bug swatting. Once I observed a well-dressed lady in a white Lincoln Continental gassing up at a convenience store. If she’d been a teenager I would have sworn she was dancing. Her swatting, gyrations, cussing, and obvious physical discomfort were all testimony to the pure aggravation of these insects. It would be easy for an outsider to claim, “Well, don’t they don’t bite or sting so they can’t be that bad.” But spending weeks fighting a plague of love bugs them off could test even the patience of Mother Teresa. The worst result of our love bug invasions is the damage they do to vehicles. During the heat of the day they love to swarm along roadsides. Along roadsides they are so thick that car vehicles will sometimes overheat due to the radiator grills being clogged with dead black bugs. Additionally, the splat of the bugs on the windshield can obscure vision. Turning on your wipers, even with the washer, creates a special Louisiana gumbo of smashed wet love bugs that makes vision even worse. A road trip through love bug country results in hundreds of dead bugs all over the front of one’s vehicle. There is an acidic quality to the love bug bodies that causes them to not only stick but to “etch” the paint job if the dead bugs remain on the painted surfaces of vehicle. Left on the front of a car or truck for several days in the hot sunshine results in them nearly adhering to the paint. Washing them off is a chore requiring lots of hot water, soap, and elbow grease. After Katrina many relief workers from outside the South came to help us. One of my best friends Paul Dear, who works for Sprint, told me this story: A carload of Sprint workers from Ohio came down to help in Southern Louisiana after Katrina. They were great help as this telecommunications company tried to help recover from the communications chaos from the storm. Of course these Midwesterners had never seen anything like the love bugs. The sheer mass proportion of these insects fascinated them. Their comment was, “I can’t wait to get home and tell folks about these black bugs. I’ve never seen anything like them.” Paul said they refused to wash the front grill of their car because “they wanted to show folks back home how thick the bugs were.” I’m sure the folks in Ohio were impressed with the thousands of dead black bugs plastered on the front grill. All I know is that if you took a South Louisianan to a large parking lot in Ohio where the Sprint worker is parked, he could easily pick out their pock-marked vehicle -a lasting souvenir of their visit to our gulf coast. In spite of two hurricanes in a month in Louisiana, these unwelcome guests refused to leave. Despite hurricane winds that blew away roofs and felled century old trees, the black bugs, those “love bugs that we all hate” somehow held on and survived the storm. And they were waiting to welcome everyone back Rita evacuees returned home. Then the week after Hurricane Rita is when the other black bugs arrived in southwest Louisiana. These new visitors were just as unwelcome as the love bugs. They were Salt Marsh Mosquitoes. These large dark biters are much more aggressive than our normal local skeeters. They have the audacity to attack you right out in the sunny part of day. Salt-marsh mosquitoes are also called floodwater mosquitoes. They normally are found in the coastal marsh areas. I remember once reading about the crash of a small plane in the marshes of Cameron Parish. The pilot
