Having penned columns in the past on the small world we live in, the connections that surface should not surprise me.
But still, it is an amazing phenomenon. As early as 2013, I was writing about the small degree of separation. Aware of the theory from John Guare's 1990 play "Six Degrees of Separation," I relayed the quotation: "I read somewhere that everybody on this planet is separated by only six other people. Six degrees of separation. Between us and everybody else on this planet. The President of the United States. A gondolier in Venice. Fill in the names." The idea was originally postulated by Frigyes Karinthy in 1929. It has been analyzed to death in the years since. But here we go again, on a local level.
Reminded of my mother reminiscing about my father, "Wherever we went, he always knew someone." It was true, even on vacation. Dad would come back to the room and announce, "So and so is here."
When I was little, Momma and Daddy had taken me to Six Flags Astroworld, a famous amusement park that opened in 1968 in Houston. It was there that, lo and behold, Dad bumped into the Fred Hoggatt family from Franklinton. While in later years I was in school with son Brent, I didn't know him, or his family, in my early childhood. But my father did. It was either through the National Guard or the Bogalusa Medical Center that he seemed to know everybody. And having roots in Mississippi while living in Louisiana didn't hurt either.
My fear - the humorous commercial on television by Progressive Insurance about turning into your parents might be more reality than fantasy. For in recent months, one incident after another has had my husband Rodney and me running into folks with Washington Parish roots.
Between Christmas and New Year's, I saw Lynn and Beau Box of Baton Rouge at Galatoire's. The daughter of Franklinton natives Darryl and Annwood Magee Jenkins (also of Baton Rouge), Lynn Jenkins Box is the granddaughter of the late R. L. and Chris Jenkins and Bill and Elsewood Magee, all of Franklinton. And Darryl is the brother of Richard Jenkins (husband of Candy) and Beth Pettit. Not only were our families close, but also we are related. I'm kin to Darryl and Richard through the Jenkins line and Rodney is related to Annwood through the Batemans and Magees.
Then, there was Valerie Stafford Comeaux who called out to us at the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport, "Where are you off to?" A familiar voice, indeed. Valerie, who was headed to South Florida to visit her sister Julie and family, is the daughter of Pete and Tommie Lou Stafford. My mother and Tommie Lou were first cousins; their fathers were brothers. And while I am conjuring up memories of airport encounters, there was before that the visit with Sharon Watson and her friend Jimmie Nell Busby in the San Diego International Airport (my son-in-law is from La Jolla). A longtime friend, Sharon is the daughter of the late Lorell Ingram Morris of Franklinton and Tylertown Mayor Ed Hughes. And Jimmie Nell Busby's husband Henry Chelton Busby, the son of John C. Busby and Mary Lou Boutwell Busby, was a native of Franklinton. And Jimmie Nell was, also. I knew the Watsons and Busbys through First Baptist Church of Mandeville.
And church - this time Covington First Baptist Church - was also where Rodney and I, in the congregation, watched Rocky Foil, married to Donna, become a deacon the first weekend of January. We both knew right away that he, the son of Roscoe "Rock" Floyd Foil and Bonnie Sue Miller Foil, who were longtime Bogalusa residents, was from Washington Parish. Rock Foil Road is just a stone's throw from our farm northeast of Franklinton. I think Rock, Sr., was in the National Guard with my father. And as I recall, our family friend the late Jean Foil Simmons, wife of Dudley Simmons, was his sister. They had a brother Wilmer Lloyd Foil (Rock's twin) and were the children of Rock and Essie Foil.
But even sweeter than running into or recognizing family and friends is finishing the story, putting the pieces and players together. It was also in January that I learned more about a long-time acquaintance, Vera "Kiki" Wright Thibaut, through her obituary. She passed away on January 16 at age ninety-six. For years, I had encountered her - a lovely lady - at the beauty parlor. Often her appointment, with my good friend Jackie, came right after mine, and so did our chit-chat.
Walking through the door, Ms. Vera was well into her nineties and always impeccably dressed. And while I didn't otherwise know her, I admired her - a real Southern lady. So, I was not surprised to learn that she was the sister of Sue Wright Pellerin of the very prominent Pellerin family of New Orleans. My mother knew Sue Pellerin well through her good friend Gayle Foret. Ms. Sue's husband Norvin Pellerin was Ms. Gayle's first cousin - Ms. Gayle's father Jack Walsdorf was Norvin's mother Mildred Walsdorf Pellerin's brother. They all were not only in business together but also were very close. And Ms. Vera had been very close to her sister Sue. All those years that I was with her in the beauty parlor, we never made the connection. Ms. Vera was survived by a large, loving family - children Louise Thibaut Rusch (Richard), David Dubourg Thibaut, Jr. (Lisa), and Sally Thibaut Buras; grandchildren Katherine, Sarah, Chris, and Simon; great-grandchildren Mason and Baylee; and nieces, nephews, extended family, and friends. I was blessed to have known Vera "Kiki" Wright Thibaut, even if I didn't know the connection.
And finally, the rest of the story on the early case, which I cited in an earlier column, of well-known attorney Wayne Kuhn. He represented and won the case for a dairy farmer who was sued by a disgruntled police juryman driving through cow pats left by cows crossing a local road. Mr. Wayne had, of course, kept the litigants' names in confidence. Still, I was curious - it seemed an interesting case in dairy country.
Color me lucky, I ran smack dab into my good friend Grayson Ball who unspooled the remainder of the story. The defendant had been Grayson's Great-Uncle Ellis Byrd, his grandfather Howard's younger brother. And Grayson's mother, having driven through the manure without issue, had served as an effective witness for the defense.
The plaintiff had been Tilmer Morris who, as I recall, had been on the board of the Bogalusa Medical Center where my dad was the long-time administrator. Mystery solved.
