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ninanevermoreToday on my drive into work, I was thinking about how a good storyteller is not afraid to adjust the facts to make a story better. For them, accuracy is not as important as the greater truth and entertainment value of the tale.
I learned this a few years ago from The Cajun Queen that I worked with. At the time, people all over the US were angry with the French for their position that our invading Iraq was not a bonne idée. In response, some people in America started boycotting all things perceived to be French and renaming things that had French as part of their name. In the cafeteria of the US Capital, congressmen no longer ordered French Fries - they ordered Freedom Fries, instead. As far as I know, they still do.
The Cajun Queen, like most Cajuns, has a last name that her ancestors brought over from France. Even though her ancestry is not all French (she also has some Italian and American Indian thrown in), she identifies with the French since they landed her with a surname that rhymes with the word "jay" even though it ends in the letters "er." At the time, she was also involved with a man who happened to be a French national. The Frenchman had spent most of his life in Texas, but still retained his French citizenship and talked about going back "home" someday. Needless to say, the Cajun Queen was not boycotting anything French and got short tempered with anyone who told her that she ought to.
One day she turned to me with a disgusted look on her face and told me about an incident that happened to her in the grocery story the previous weekend. She was planning a romantic evening with her boyfriend. She had already picked out a bottle of wine and was in the dairy case of the store looking at a package of Brie cheese imported from France. A woman standing next to her looked at the cheese in The Queen's hands and then made a mistake; she said something stupid to a person with little patience for stupid people.
"You know that's a French cheese," the woman said, "You shouldn't buy it."
"Excuse me?" inquired the Cajun Queen, wanting to make sure that this stranger was not actually trying to tell her what products she should or should not be putting in her shopping basket.
"That cheese is French," the woman repeated, "You shouldn't be buying anything from France."
If you have never seen a Cajun get angry, then you have missed out on a true force of nature and an amazing sight to behold. I have seen hurricanes, tornados and floods in my lifetime; I have seen lightening that brightened the night sky like the noonday sun and heard thunder that made the earth shake. None of these things compares to a Cajun temper tantrum.
"Listen, Bitch," the queen began, drawing a deep breath for the tirade that she was about to let loose, "I am going to buy this French cheese and I am going to eat it while I drink this bottle of French wine and if you have a problem with it than you can..." I don't recall exactly what she told the woman she could do, but I do remember that it was obscene.
"Do you believe the nerve of some people?" the Queen asked me as she finished her story, "Do you believe how stupid people can be?"
"You didn't tell her that you were going to go home and [screw] your French boyfriend?" I asked, "I would have thrown that in, too."
The Queen looked stunned, like a person who realizes that the pile of junk mail she just tossed onto the fire contained a winning lottery ticket worth $10 million. "No," she said softly, "I didn't think of that."
She frowned. "Damn."
"Well, if it happens again..." I offered, trying to cheer her up. She looked realy bummed.
"Oh, yeah. No kidding." We dropped the subject.
A few weeks later, I overheard her telling the story to someone else.
"...I am going to buy this French cheese and I am going to eat it while I drink this bottle of French wine and after I'm done I'm going to [screw] the brains out of my French boyfriend, you stupid bitch, and if you have a problem with that..."
I had to agree that it improved the story immensely. I've heard other Cajuns tell stories and I think that, in general, they like to tell things they way they should have happened and don't let a thing like accuracy get in the way of a good tale. I can appreciate this, both as a Texan (we have our own story-telling traditions that work along the same lines) and a lover of good stories. Sometimes, the facts have to be twisted a little to expose the truth hiding underneath them. It just can't be helped.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
I learned this a few years ago from The Cajun Queen that I worked with. At the time, people all over the US were angry with the French for their position that our invading Iraq was not a bonne idée. In response, some people in America started boycotting all things perceived to be French and renaming things that had French as part of their name. In the cafeteria of the US Capital, congressmen no longer ordered French Fries - they ordered Freedom Fries, instead. As far as I know, they still do.
The Cajun Queen, like most Cajuns, has a last name that her ancestors brought over from France. Even though her ancestry is not all French (she also has some Italian and American Indian thrown in), she identifies with the French since they landed her with a surname that rhymes with the word "jay" even though it ends in the letters "er." At the time, she was also involved with a man who happened to be a French national. The Frenchman had spent most of his life in Texas, but still retained his French citizenship and talked about going back "home" someday. Needless to say, the Cajun Queen was not boycotting anything French and got short tempered with anyone who told her that she ought to.
One day she turned to me with a disgusted look on her face and told me about an incident that happened to her in the grocery story the previous weekend. She was planning a romantic evening with her boyfriend. She had already picked out a bottle of wine and was in the dairy case of the store looking at a package of Brie cheese imported from France. A woman standing next to her looked at the cheese in The Queen's hands and then made a mistake; she said something stupid to a person with little patience for stupid people.
"You know that's a French cheese," the woman said, "You shouldn't buy it."
"Excuse me?" inquired the Cajun Queen, wanting to make sure that this stranger was not actually trying to tell her what products she should or should not be putting in her shopping basket.
"That cheese is French," the woman repeated, "You shouldn't be buying anything from France."
If you have never seen a Cajun get angry, then you have missed out on a true force of nature and an amazing sight to behold. I have seen hurricanes, tornados and floods in my lifetime; I have seen lightening that brightened the night sky like the noonday sun and heard thunder that made the earth shake. None of these things compares to a Cajun temper tantrum.
"Listen, Bitch," the queen began, drawing a deep breath for the tirade that she was about to let loose, "I am going to buy this French cheese and I am going to eat it while I drink this bottle of French wine and if you have a problem with it than you can..." I don't recall exactly what she told the woman she could do, but I do remember that it was obscene.
"Do you believe the nerve of some people?" the Queen asked me as she finished her story, "Do you believe how stupid people can be?"
"You didn't tell her that you were going to go home and [screw] your French boyfriend?" I asked, "I would have thrown that in, too."
The Queen looked stunned, like a person who realizes that the pile of junk mail she just tossed onto the fire contained a winning lottery ticket worth $10 million. "No," she said softly, "I didn't think of that."
She frowned. "Damn."
"Well, if it happens again..." I offered, trying to cheer her up. She looked realy bummed.
"Oh, yeah. No kidding." We dropped the subject.
A few weeks later, I overheard her telling the story to someone else.
"...I am going to buy this French cheese and I am going to eat it while I drink this bottle of French wine and after I'm done I'm going to [screw] the brains out of my French boyfriend, you stupid bitch, and if you have a problem with that..."
I had to agree that it improved the story immensely. I've heard other Cajuns tell stories and I think that, in general, they like to tell things they way they should have happened and don't let a thing like accuracy get in the way of a good tale. I can appreciate this, both as a Texan (we have our own story-telling traditions that work along the same lines) and a lover of good stories. Sometimes, the facts have to be twisted a little to expose the truth hiding underneath them. It just can't be helped.
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Two words...
Date: 2006-08-09 08:41 pm (UTC);D
Re: Two words...
Date: 2006-08-09 08:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-09 09:00 pm (UTC)I think Cajun are more fun than any other group of people on earth. It's hard not to love them (and important not to tick them off). :D
no subject
Date: 2006-08-10 03:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-11 04:46 pm (UTC)