Pierre Fontenot
July 18, 2022
Our Father, Who loves us Despite our despites, Because, because, because… Thank You For Your all-ness And everything-ness. Thank You for our lives And another day of it. May we respect
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Pierre Fontenot
May 6, 2022
Most Easters find me in motion, without emotions. I am aware, wish to care, but for all that I intend, mostly I just attend. I’VE BEEN ALIVE for 65 Easters. Discount the kiddie ones, that still leaves
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Pierre Fontenot
March 24, 2022
In my youth I watched B Westerns. There was always a horse chase. No matter how flat the terrain, the good guy (white hat) and the bad guy (black hat) always found some mountain
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Pierre Fontenot
March 4, 2022
Dear Reader, Someone asked me what turning 65 was like. I thought, ‘Aging is like being a quilt.’ Every House Had A Singer I am old enough to remember a childhood where every house
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Pierre Fontenot
February 11, 2022
I witnessed my father do a U-turn, to go back to a convenience store, because the clerk had given him too much change. Another young man of that generation, parents both dead, he
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Pierre Fontenot
January 21, 2022
2021 was a fast year. They do get that way, as you age. Aging is quite the mystery, in a million measurements. How one looks at time is something they don’t warn you about
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Pierre Fontenot
December 9, 2021
If all you knew about Yvonne was this one picture, you might think she had a soft, easy life, maybe even born with a silver spoon. Not so, not so. She’s the second youngest
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Pierre Fontenot
November 19, 2021
If I were a declaring type person, I’d declare the 2021 hurricane season over. (Weather type people play it safer. To them it’s not over until after Thanksgiving.) But even a Louisiana civilian
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Pierre Fontenot
October 28, 2021
His daddy had a nightly routine. First, he’d go through the house with a Flit sprayer, and spray the bedrooms with insecticide for mosquitoes, then he’d hit the outhouse. Once done with his doings,
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Pierre Fontenot
October 8, 2021
By Pierre Fontenot She grew up chaperoned by the Mississippi. While tourists were sinning in the New Orleans French Quarter, regular families were enjoying wholesome living, just a ferry ride away, in Algiers.
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