Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
At the beginning of November, our local Bayou Teche Museum hosted Allan Wolf who wrote two books based on a disaster that happened on Jefferson Island in 1980. I posted about his presentation and books here.
Allan had school visits planned for New Orleans and Lafayette, so he worked into his schedule another day. He wanted to further interview people concerning the disaster. He stayed with us on Friday night.
Early Saturday morning I woke up to a text from Allan that he was staying through lunch to be able to meet once again with Mike Richard, the owner of Rip Van Winkle Gardens at Jefferson Island. I joined him on this venture.
When we walked into the gift shop, we were struck by a display of Allan’s graphic novel. While there a woman walked up and bought the book, an impromptu signing.
Allan Wolf signs “The Vanishing of Lake Peigneur” for Mona in the gift shop of Rip Van Winkle Gardens.
Mike led us out to view the lake and then into the bustling restaurant. We had gumbo and enjoyed hearing Mike’s stories about the geography of the lake and salt mine that is still bubbling in places due to trapped gases.
It was fun to be a bystander listening to Allan and Mike talk and talk. I am fascinated by their fascination. Even though the books are published, Allan can’t stop digging into the story.
Mike Richard, owner of Rip Van Winkle Gardens, and Allan Wolf, author of The Vanishing of Lake Peigneur.
On the 45th anniversary of the mine disaster, Myrna Romero was interviewed by a local TV station, KATC. Here is that quick interview.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Dear Readers,
I am writing this post from a historical B&B in downtown Denver. I’m still here after a whirlwind weekend at NCTE. Have you ever gone to a conference in a new-to-you city and never had the chance to see the city?
On Sunday Jeff flew in, and I switched from conference mode to vacation mode. Yesterday we walked over 20,000 steps in Denver, an exploration that included murals, food, coffee shops, a bookstore, and a Japanese knife store. The weather was perfect for walking.
While I was attending NCTE “Dream Boldly”, I was worried that I wouldn’t find sessions that spoke to me as a retired teacher; however, I look back in my notebook and realize that I am still a Writer.
In a session with wonderful poets Georgia Heard, Joyce Sidman, and Rebecca Kai Dotlich, we were given prompts and time to write.
Joyce Sidman has an amazing new book, “Dear Acorn, Love Oak”, and she used a simple formula from her book to lead us into writing our own letter poem: Write to an inanimate object, Dear ____, including a compliment, a question, and a wish.
I loved how this prompt could work with any age group, and the participants shared some wonderful responses. Here’s mine:
Dear Black Bic Pen, Your ink is flowing nicely today, with only a few blotches here and there. Do you like writing poems, being my muse? I wonder if you’d rather be pink and scented like a rose. I wish I could write poems with you. Can you whisper a line or two? Love, Writer’s Block
Not only did NCTE fill my writer’s cup, it also filled my soul. My husband calls it “hobnobbing with my fellow wizards”. I was in the company of many wizards who, after 20 years of attending this conference, are now friends. Lots of hugs, conversations, and laughs.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
The December Open Write at Ethical ELA was hosted by Mo Daley. She introduced me to a new poem form that was really fun to write, a kenning. A kenning uses two word phrases to describe someone or something. Mo asked us to think of gratitude at this time of year. Her post (with lots of fun response poems) is here.
The kenning is supposed to be a riddle, so the title should not give away the topic. But I am giving it away with the title of my post as well as a photo of the cutest baby ever. Sam’s sister has nicknamed him “Lammy” which is short for “Sammy-Lamby-Ding-Dong.”
Number 5 Caboose
He’s a toothless grinner sniff-snorter milk-spitter diaper-wetter perfume magnet pumpkin-carrot Lambi-lambi Ding-Dong cuddle-coaxing daytime napping love absorbing new cousin
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
This one is dedicated to my father, who would be 92 today. He died at 88 on 4/22/22. He loved double numbers. He was born on 11/11/33 before this day became Veterans Day, but he loved that his birthday became such an important holiday. He was proud to be a veteran, but more than that, he was proud of his two older brothers who fought in WWII and Vietnam. My father never had to go into war.
I imagine him today, not in the deathbed (that memory lasted too long in my brain), but as he would sit in his chair every morning and read the paper, exclaiming every few minutes or so about some injustice that he would read aloud to my mother. He loved to hate politics.
My husband Jeff is like him in this. Jeff reads news on a tablet and laughs out loud until I ask him what’s so funny. He enjoys modern day memes and comics that play on human idiosyncrasies. He also reads aloud other news that he feels may interest me. “You may be interested to know…”
I have my father with me always in his artwork. He was a black and white pointillist artist. I look at his drawings and swoon at the idea that his fingers touched each dot on the paper.
Heron, pen and ink pointillism by John Gibson.
There is a progress/pattern to grief. At first, it was soul gripping and traumatic. Now that Mom is gone, too, I feel more at peace and filled with a kind of longing for them that is nostalgic. Dad in his chair reading the news. Mom with her coffee (always black) doing a crossword.
Today on Dad’s birthday and Veterans Day, I am warm and happy that I had a loving home.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
When I heard from Allan Wolf by email that he had been invited to the Louisiana Book Festival, I grabbed at the chance to have him come to our Bayou Teche home.
Allan started coming to South Louisiana in 2007, performing at schools and libraries and leading teacher workshops at the Acadiana Center for the Arts. I became a fan. The first time he visited Jefferson Island and saw a chimney in the lake, he became intrigued by the disaster in Lake Peigneur of 1980.
A brief summary of that disaster: An exploratory drilling rig from Texaco accidentally punctured a salt mine and set off a harrowing series of events. The miraculous thing is all the miners, fishermen, and tug boats escaped and there was no loss of human life. The lake turned into a whirlpool and the Delcambre Canal flowed backward.
This historical disaster happened 45 years ago in my home town of New Iberia, Louisiana. Allan wrote two books based on the event, and no one in my town knew about these books. I set out to change that.
It became my mission to get him here and to organize a book talk at our local Bayou Teche Museum. With the way news media works these days, I advertised mostly by word of mouth (The “Teche Telegraph”) and by email and social media. Allan and I were hopeful that 20 people would show up, even though I ordered 50 chairs.
Allan was hoping people who had been there that fateful day (Nov. 20, 1980) would come and share their stories.
We had an overflowing crowd of 65 people. Allan paid tribute to the tug boat captain, Ores Menard (age 95), who sat on the front row with his wife and daughter. Allan had interviewed Mr. Menard for hours.
A woman walked in early and shared that she was one of two women in the mine. Allan brightened up. “I knew there had to be women in the mine. I knew about one, but I didn’t know about you!”
Allan Wolf and Myrna Romero, survivor of the 1980 Lake Peigneur disaster.
Myrna brought him her typed story and showed him the jumpsuit that she wore. Allan told her on one of his last interviews, he discovered there was a woman, so he had the artist place her into the graphic novel.
The thing about research that Allan has learned (and I have as well with my biography of Emma Wakefield Paillet) is it’s never finished. Once a story is told, it becomes a living document.
In his presentation, Allan explained that some of the characters in his book are composite characters, more than one person rolled into one. Three dogs became one. Two boats became one. However, the gist of truth is there.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Text from my daughter: “Family picnic at Myrtle on Oct. 3rd. Can you go?”
“Yes! I’m in.”
Mamére with Stella at the family picnic.
The family picnic coincided with the Scholastic Book Fair.
I’m usually on the other side of the book fair. Now I never did have to run it. Hats off to the school librarian. And I did not volunteer. But it was always an exciting week at school. The librarian had coffee and pastries every day. There were quiet times when I could go in, and I always bought books for my classroom or for my grandchildren. One of the things that bugged me were the toys and trinkets. I suppose these are there for kids who didn’t have enough money to buy a book, but as a teacher, I inevitably was taking away one of the treasures from distractible kids.
I set up a rule before we even walked into the book fair. Mamére doesn’t buy toys, only books.
Stella’s pre-k 4 class was the first group at the picnic. (They had a rolling schedule.) So Stella and I went through the book fair with ease. She picked out two books and a diary with keys. I decided the diary was not a toy. I want to encourage any kind of writing, even pre-k scribble and drawing. There wasn’t a huge crowd, either.
However by the time the first graders made it into the book fair, the line was a swirl and the library was full of parents, kids, teachers, and noise! Again, I didn’t mind. I enjoyed visiting with a mother in line with me. We both have Leos. Hers is Leo Fox and mine is Leo Wolf. I recalled when they were born around the same time. Her sister-in-law is a friend of mine.
Scholastic books are sneaky about the toy thing. Leo picked out a book about snakes that had a plastic snake skull with it, a book about sharks that included shark teeth, and a book about making Play-Doh sea animals that, of course, came with Play-Doh.
Stella was a little bit upset that Leo got toys. But they were excited that I checked them out of school, and we had an afternoon of playtime at Mamére’s house. I think I like this side of book fair madness.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
In my retirement, I want to be a better gardener. I envy people who seem to be natural gardeners. Rather than pine over other people’s gardens, I decided I needed to be proactive, so I attended a Acadiana Native Plant Project event last week at the Louisiana Wetlands Center.
Leaning over the purple coneflower is Monica, who I discovered later on, I had taught with 20 years ago.
As we toured the grounds, the members of the native plant project talked with us about the plants that had gone to seed. We were given paper bags to collects seeds in. I wasn’t sure what I was getting into, but I opened my hand to free seeds.
The miracle of seed pods!
I became enthralled by the miracle of seeds.
Beauty Berry!
One of our leaders sent me home with a cutting of Beauty Berry and a seedling of tropical sage.
My home lab
I spent some time googling each seed and figuring out the best way to propagate them. If I’m 20% successful, that is better than nothing. Some of the seeds are in wet paper towels in the fridge to experience fake cold weather. Some I sprinkled right into a pot.
As the temperatures cool off, I hope to feel more motivation for working outside in the yard. And I will be watching for baby plants, and feeling wonder and awe of it all.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
The TECHE Project with a grant managed by the Center for Louisiana Studies from the William C. Pomeroy Foundation placed a Legends and Lore marker about the Teche Tunnel.
Last Friday was “Talk Like A Pirate Day” and what better day to celebrate a new historical marker in town. The Legends & Lore marker was placed on the grounds of one of the oldest homes in town. This property originally belonged to the Duperier family, a founding family of New Iberia. The building was a school for many years, Mt. Carmel Catholic Academy for girls.
At the ceremony, people spoke about the different stories that have been passed down for generations about the tunnel. The tunnel is no longer safe to access, but it is there.
Some say that Jean LaFitte, a famous pirate of the 19th century visited the Duperier family and used the tunnel as an escape route. There are still tales of buried treasure in the area.
Paul Schexnayder, an artist, educator, and picture book author, created a whimsical painting about the legends.
The legends of the tunnel by Paul Schexnayder
Paul explained his imaginings about the tunnel: a place where the sisters gambled, where they hid the pregnant girls, where slaves escaped, where prisoners were jailed and Jean LaFitte escaped, and even a story from the 80’s where a Satanic group worshipped.
Whether or not any of these stories are true is beside the point. The point is history gives us stories and stories connect and entertain people. The marker adds one more spot on the map of our little quirky town of New Iberia.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I retired at the end of the 2025 school year. I’m still finding my way.
Check off travel: We spent a week in Scotland over the Labor Day weekend. (It seems like a dream now.)
My husband Jeff and I on the Britannia in Edinburgh.
Daily walks with my dog, Albert: We did this earlier on school days. Now I get to stop and chat with neighbors along the way.
Time with grandchildren: I’m driving to New Orleans this afternoon for another few days with Thomas. I hope to get in some Sam snuggles, too.
Grandparents’ Day in kindergarten with Thomas!
Domestic stuff: Watering the grass, doing the laundry, cooking (wait! I haven’t done much of that), financials, cleaning…There is always a list of chores.
On Monday, I told Jeff I was finally going to have a real retirement day. I had a massage and lunch with a friend (also retired). Taking care of myself in this way makes me feel guilty. Isn’t there something more productive I “should” be doing?
I had to buy a paper calendar, no free one from the school photo company. It’s mostly full, but I find myself with pockets of time rather than a whole day. So what do you do with an hour here or there?
People say I will get into a rhythm, a routine, settle in to retirement. It’s only September.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
A week ago, I was on a tour of Edinburgh Castle, the heart of the UNESCO preserved area of Edinburgh, Scotland. During the reign of Robert the Bruce, the whole castle was destroyed except St. Margaret’s Chapel. I was drawn in to the history of Margaret, Queen of Scots, and want to claim her for an ancestor. Her life was from 1047 to 1093. She was an unusual saint because she had eight children and was not a virgin or a martyr. Yet she followed the teachings of St. Benedict and was pious and generous.
Yesterday I read a “poem a day” by Damir Soden found here. The commentary included this quote about poetry, “Poetry being the most sophisticated way of dealing with language is therefore of utmost importance when it comes to preservation of one’s identity.”
I want to preserve memories of my trip to Scotland. Preserve the feeling of being taken back in time. Preserve my connection to my name.
Edinburgh Castle, Scotland
Is like a time capsule toured daily by thousands walking back through time’s doorway into St. Margaret’s small chapel finding a sanctuary most sacred place in Scotland atop the highest point of Castle Rock spared by Robert the Bruce— a resting place.
How her spirit caused his pause… We pause to imagine to inhale the soft scent of gunpowder to rediscover holiness in a place of violence.
Can you feel the longing?
St. Margaret’s Chapel, the oldest preserved building at Edinburgh Castle.Simple adornments in St. Margaret’s Chapel.Stained glass window of St. Margaret by Dr. Douglas Strachan in 1922.
There is a guild of St. Margaret that keeps the flowers in the chapel. Anyone with the name Margaret can be a part of this guild. We are encouraged to place flowers in our own churches on St. Margaret’s Day, November 16th. Here is a prayer from the booklet I bought (charitable donation).
O God our Father, who didst kindle a flame of divine love in the heart of thy servant Queen Margaret and didst by her humility and kindness show forth the way of royal service: grant that, encouraged by her example and strengthened by her fellowship, we who bear her name may follow her in the joyful spending of ourselves for others; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She teaches gifted elementary students, writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 