The Acadian Diaspora

Introducing Heather Cox Richardson's 250 to 250

I talk a lot about Kentucky here. And Florida, too. But central to my story, and remaining close to my heart is the town of Breaux Bridge, Louisiana. We moved there when I was only three so my stepdad could work on the oil rigs in the Gulf of Mexico. Mom was only 20 back then; she likes to say we grew up together. Joining us was my younger brother, along with my aunt and uncle, the latter of whom also worked offshore.

Bayou babies, Mom included

All but one of my earliest memories are from Louisiana, and it was there that a child named Jason Herbert quickly became Jason Hebert. Like most of the kids in St. Martin Parish, I grew up speaking (though not quite perfecting) the patois that is Cajun French. I remember catching sac-a-lait (crappie) in the bayous and trying to release as many crawfish as I could before they ended up in a boil. On occasions we'd visit with friends who had a pet alligator that we'd swim with.

Yes, this was my childhood

We had a babysitter. I asked my mother her name once, but she couldn’t recall. All we knew was that we called her Mom Da. Mom Dah watched six or seven of us, all around four or five years old. When we misbehaved, she’d make stand on our knees behind the couch and stick our tongues out. Then she’d put a spoonful of her homemade hot sauce on them. We did not misbehave often. I remember it was with Mom Dah that I killed my first chicken. I was five. She told me to go and catch one in the backyard and hold it upside down until it stopped moving. I watched her dispatch that bird, pluck it, and cook it. This was life in Louisiana in 1982.

Mom’s maiden name was Chadwick, so combined with my father’s Herbert meant that I was pretty much the most English-descended kid roaming the bayous. But our neighbors’ names told different stories. We were enveloped by folks named Guidry, Thibodeaux, Boudreaux, LeBlanc, and Fontenot. My first crush was my childhood friend, Schlacey Broussard.

Those names told of a different time, a different origin. Because like me, true Cajuns came from someplace else once upon a time. But their world—the accordions playing Zydeco, the crawfish boils, the kitchens that smelled of a brick roux and cayenne—might be the most American of them all.

If you haven’t picked up on it by now, Heather Cox Richardson and her team are producing small snippets of Americana in celebration of this country’s enduring history. Some are about people, other are places. Some you know of, others maybe you should know. In fact, let me let Heather tell you more about it:

So when Heather asked me if I’d want to contribute a little something on my adopted home, I said mais oui! And well, here you go:

If you click on either video, you’ll get the chance to watch others like them from such people as Pete Buttigieg, Jon Tester, Ariana DeBose, Jelani Cobb, and others, with even more to come. Check it out, because I think it’s a really cool project and I’m glad to have a little part in it.

Here’s a link to follow along on Substack:

Introducing: 250 to 250

You can also follow along across all the social media platforms by searching for 250to250 or the hashtag #WeAreAmerica250.

Oh, and I’ll pop back in with some more stuff on the Cajuns a bit later, but for now, take a look at some of those videos and lemme what you think.

Jason

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