Some sage advice was given me in the early days of my column by Virginia Killingsworth. Informing me that she had been reading what I had been writing, she ordered, "You need a big filing cabinet. Put everything in envelopes. Then, when you get to it, you get to it." Miraculously, this once, I was one step ahead. And the cabinet is behemoth.
It was banter with our new neighbor which had me scurrying to my files. How we came to have a new neighbor is quite a story, best left for another day. But in a nutshell, our long-time next-door neighbors moved to England to join their beautiful daughter and son-in-law. Marrying exceptionally well, she invited her folks to live in the guest house on their country estate, just outside of London and not that far from their city flat near Harrod's. I don't have sufficient room to reveal the rest of the story, but trust me - it's a fairy tale.
Back to Louisiana, the home next door to ours was purchased, in a day, during the pandemic by the Perezes who wasted no time renovating and moving in with their precious young son. And they have since been joined by heir number two.
Becoming fast friends with the affable, young couple, I inquired of Charles, "Are you perhaps related to Leander Perez of Plaquemines Parish?" A lawyer in early life, with a large firm that did a ton of oil and gas work, I once had some knowledge. My paralegal had done considerable work down in Plaquemines.
Charles confirmed, "Yes, the judge was my great-grandfather." He was, in my mind, one of the most powerful men to ever live in South Louisiana. Those not from these parts can surf the web or review "The New York Times" which unspooled the story of the legendary political leader. It is a small world, indeed. And we adore Charles and Annie. He generously shares with us scrumptious Gulf fish -redfish and trout are our favorites.
And with a cold, wet winter approaching, it was Charles who told my husband Rodney that before he built a roaring fire in the fireplace he wanted to have his chimney checked. Wise move. But who knows an old-time chimney sweep? This quandary sent me pell-mell to my mammoth filing cabinet. Of course, the chimney sweeps I remember can't come to the rescue as I am pretty certain they have moved on to greener pastures or blue skies, in the case of one of them. But still, I was motivated to find my material.
For background, it's best to start at the beginning. My husband Rodney was born and raised in Washington Parish, where he had a raft of childhood friends one of whom was Sam Beatty, son of Dr. Ed and Margaret Beatty and brother of Dianna. For a good while, we stayed in touch with Sam and wife Jackie. He became an accomplished airline pilot, and Jackie was always a gem. When my mother was near death in 2000, she appeared at my side in the hospital. I shall never forget.
Now, I've written about Sam's mother - Ms. Margaret - in the past. The proprietor of Country Clutter, a shop on Lee Lane in Covington, that was once chockablock with quilts and handmade merchandise, she drew my mother in like a moth to a flame. Momma went through a couple phases of quilting, and it was talented Margaret Beatty who saw her through the first.
I would be remiss if I didn't expound on our connection to the Beattys. My parents became good friends of Ed Beatty after he married Nealyne Tullos Crain, the widow of my mother's first cousin Michael. There were many late-night suppers that the two couples shared. From their dialogue - and my eavesdropping - I discerned that a football giant lived among us, on Varnado Street in Franklinton.
A dentist by profession, Dr. Ed had, before that, been a professional football player. After playing college football at Ole Miss, he then played for the Pittsburgh Steelers, San Francisco 49ers, and also the Washington Redskins, during a time period ranging from the early 1950s to the early 1960s. Quite a storied career, one that I wish I had asked him about back then. I do recall my folks being impressed.
Rodney and I were similarly struck by Dr. Ed's son Sam and his pal Roger Hornsby, who went into the chimney sweep business - R & S Chimney Sweeps - back in the late 1970s. We remember it like it was yesterday. Rodney thinks that he and his buddy Sam were seniors at Bowling Green at the time while Roger had perhaps just graduated. It must have been a sort of part-time endeavor, but it was one that the two young entrepreneurs were gung-ho about, cleaning out chimneys in local homes. And for this role, they wore top-hats.
At that time, a high school student, I likely did not appreciate their service, but that changed once I became a homeowner. I have never owned a home without a fireplace. And it's unsafe to burn wood in a chimney that hasn't been regularly swept and checked for accumulated soot and creosote. My dad, who took great pride in splitting wood for fires in our fireplace, often ruminated on this danger. We appreciated our good neighbor Charles reminding us.
Apparently, Rodney and I have been derelict in our duty. Having converted from gas logs back to wood-burning, we need to set our sights on a chimney sweep - something that fortunately wasn't hard to do in 1979 Franklinton. Thanks to Sam and Roger.
