Newspapers, It Always Rains Around The Fourth of July..., LaSalle Parish, La.
Submitted by Jack Willis
Date: 11 Oct 2004
Source:Grass Roots and Cockleburrs
Date: 14 Jul 2004




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It Always Rains Around The Fourth of July...

One of my favorite pastimes is collecting old "sayings", like "if the rain
comes down before seven, it'll go up by eleven"...and this refers to the
sage observation that if a shower or thunderstorm begins before seven in the
morning it'll usually be over by eleven that same day. None of these
insights are ironclad rules but are generally true more times than not.
Back in the mid-sixties I was introduced to another saying, "It always rains
around the Fourth of July!" with a personal testimony to vouch for the truth
of this old adage.
Back on June 6th of 1967 the toll of about 35 years of smoking had finally
taken its toll on my father, who was in Baptist Hospital in Alexandria, LA
for exploratory surgery, where they had essentially cut him open, declared
him incurable, and sewed him back up. While he was regaining the strength to
go home to spend his last days, my older brother and I were taking turns
"setting up" with him at night, even though we had around the clock nursing
staff in attendance. It was a chance for he and I to visit and reminisce and
I wouldn't trade those few precious days for anything.
I could make it fairly well sitting up until about four o'clock in the
morning, but then I would get so sleepy I would have to get up, exit the
room and walk up and down the hall of the hospital to wake up. In the
process I made the acquaintance of the Security Guard making his rounds, and
I would sit down on a sofa in the hall with him for a visit every other
morning. He would usually bless me with a much-appreciated cup of coffee
from the Nurse's Station, and in the process we got to chitchatting and
almost drug up kinfolks.
Come to find out he was raised up in Jackson Parish on a two-mule farm in
the Gaar's Mill community, about 15 miles as the crow flies from where my
dad was reared also, where they both had experienced the typical "striving
to make ends meet drudgery" that a lot of Great Depression youngsters were
faced with.
One early morning, with the Fourth of July weekend coming up, he got to
laughing and telling of a stunt his father would play every year on he and
his brothers on this particular national holiday.  He said that every year
about a week before the Fourth, his dad would gather he and his brothers up
at the water barrel one morning and make his annual declaration, and he said
he knew the upcoming proposal wasn't anything new because it was a repeat of
the same speech he made every year, but they fell for it anyhow. "Boys" the
father intoned, "this corn is ready to be hoed, laid by with nitrate of
soda, and plowed out, and if y'all can get it done by the evening of the
third, we'll take the day off and have a big fish fry down on Big Caney
Creek on the Fourth of July."
With that exhilarating oration ringing in their ears all the boys got after
the hoeing, nitrate of soda dispensing and plowing from "can 'til can't",
stayed wet to their knees from sweating, and the Guard said he was so tired
every evening at dark-thirty that he didn't know whether to come hither, or
go yonder.
They finished the corn chores up late the evening of the Third and headed
off to round up some pine knot torches to use for illumination while they
put out their set hook poles in Big Caney Creek.
Before good light the next morning they ran down to the creek and just about
every pole was bobbing up and down indicating a good-sized catfish was on
the line. They jerked the hide off the freshly caught fish,got them cut up
into frying size pieces, loaded up all the supplies like bowls of potato
salad, fish grease, hushpuppy mix, fry pans, banana puddings, pies and cakes
into a wagon and the boys and the womenfolk headed out.
By the time the men got ready to start cooking the fires were built up and
the cooks were waiting for the first kitchen match to ignite indicating the
grease was hot enough to receive the first of the corn meal encased fish
fillets.
The Security Guard went on to say that just about this time they would
always hear the first ominous roll of thunder and in about 10 to 15 minutes
the heavens would open up and they always ended up with rainwater in the
fish grease. The kids would huddle under the wagon striving to stay dry
while the grownups frantically rushed around gathering up all the supplies
for the sodden trip back home to a meal of cold fried chicken and soggy
potato salad.
The old Security Guard drained the last drop of coffee from his styrene cup,
stood up and said, "Well...I gotta go." He realigned his police hat on his
gray mantled head, shifted his gun belt to a more comfortable position on
his hips, cleared his throat and said, "Son, always remember one thing-It
always rains around the Fourth of July!"
With the utterance of that final profound statement he strode purposefully
off down the hall to finish his duly appointed rounds.
I took that statement to heart and for well over 30 years I've monitored the
weather around the Fourth of July, and I've never, ever seen the aged
forecaster's pronouncement fail to come to pass. You can take it to the bank
that within two or three days of, or on, the Fourth of July the good folks
in Central Louisiana will receive some meaningful rainfall.
GR&C (7-14-04)                                         JMW