LEJ's Blog

My Photo
Name:
Location: New Orleans, Louisiana, United States

Leonard Earl Johnson (photo credit Frank Parsley) covered Hurricanes Katrina and Rita (2005), and the 2010 British Petroleum oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico for ConsumerAffairs.com. He is a contributor to Gambit Weekly, New Orleans Magazine, SCAT, Baton Rouge Advocate, Advocate Magazine, The Times-Picayune, Country Roads Magazine, Palm Springs Newswire and the anthologies: FRENCH QUARTER FICTION (Light of New Orleans Publishing), LOUISIANA IN WORDS (Pelican Publishing), LIFE IN THE WAKE (NOLAfuges.com), and more. Johnson is a former Merchant Seaman, and columnist at Les Amis de Marigny, New Orleans; and African-American Village. Attended Southern Illinois University, Carbondale, and Harry Lundeberg School of Seamanship at Piney Point, Maryland. Winner of the Press Club of New Orleans Award for Excellence, 1991, and given the Key to The City and a Certificate of Appreciation from the New Orleans City Council for a Gambit Weekly story on murder in the French Quarter.

Thursday, October 01, 2026

✍ Water Under the Bridges / October 2026

   ~ Fiction ~

Roman Γ  clef, cher!

Created AI-free

by Leonard Earl Johnson

of Lafayette and New Orleans, Louisiana

 www.LEJ.world

                                   http://www.LEJ.org 
πŸ“–



LEJ's 
Louisiana

a monthly e-column

πŸ’«πŸ’₯πŸ’«πŸ’₯πŸ’«πŸ’₯πŸ’«πŸ’₯πŸ’«

Yours Truly in a Swamp

by  Leonard Earl Johnson


Β© 2026, Leonard Earl Johnson,  All Rights Reserved
❀

Best viewed for color contrast on a computer
or phone screen with a black background.


 





In the Heart of Sleep,  Day Dream on the Beach, 

Oil on canvas, 1986 ~ FranΓ§oise Gilot

Yours Truly in a Swamp 

October, 2026

       βœ

πŸ’₯

WATER UNDER THE BRIDGES

(Reprinted with changes from YOURS TRULY IN A SWAMP, June 2011)

by
Leonard Earl Johnson


Louisiana, Land of Dreamy Dreams.  Where we treat the Mississippi River Valley like our odalisque slave. 

This year, The Mighty River has gone giddy as television's weather-poets. Leaving our passions leafed out topside dry and dusty in a time of draught while our roots drown under Yankee runoff. There is no rain and yet we flood.

We are aboard the Sunset Limited, Amtrick-ling over the Huey P. Long Bridge at New Orleans.  It is clear from here, only the sturdy old Huey is up in the air enough to be untouchable by the floods. 
 
 

The train has come from Los Angeles, and points west.  We joined it in Lafayette for a
night in Big Swamp City.

At Morgan City the bayous have grown into rivers lapping at bridge pylons within a few feet of our train tracks.

We came to a full stop, then proceeded very slowly.  Flood gates entering the little downtown were closed and water trickled under them as we trickled past. 

Upriver, the Mississippi continues gushing over the Bonnet CarrΓ© Spillway on the way to flood Lake Pontchartrain.

In Acadiana, the Atchafalaya Basin fills with Mississippi River water tumbling out of the Morganza Spillway, above Baton Rouge. It threatens isolated homes, small settlements and towns on its way under bridges and out to The Sea beyond. 

The conductor says, "You may not be able to come back this way." We bought round-trip tickets anyway.

* * *

Saturday night in New Orleans! 

At the Vincent Mann Gallery on Royal Street we join a reception for FranΓ§oise Gilot.

🍷🍾 

"Going back while the bridges are still up?" L. A. Norma asks us, as we stand in line. 

"No one expects any bridges to come down, but no one expected Katrina either!"

Hildegarde and Balthazar are banking on the Sunset running, and the Morgan City bridges holding. "At least till after we pass," Hildegarde says. 

"There is no problem with the Huey P. Long. Huey built it well with Standard Oil's tax money."

We all smiled.

Long leveed taxes on Standard Oil and in an unrelated event ~ one day while Standard Oil was out of town ~ someone murdered Huey in the lobby of the new State Capitol in Baton Rouge, which he also built with their tax collections.

🀝

We sidled along shaking hands with FranΓ§oise Gilot, and chatting with her manager and Son, Claude, who is the spitting image of his Father, Pablo Picasso.

"Picasso would have done them all in oil," Hildegarde whispers. "With two noses."

Claude Picasso, the issue of two world famous artists, manages his Mother's estate and sales. 

"And his Mother," Hildegarde adds.

"As much as she, still an ingΓ©nue mystΓ©rieuse at ninety-something, can be managed." 

His life began in 1947, in the ashes of World War Two, a time fading in memories outside of history lectures and art galleries. 

FranΓ§oise Gilot was twenty when she and Pablo Picasso met. She was having her first exhibition -- in German-occupied Paris! Picasso was already famous, and sixty. 

🌍

Claude turns his inherited handsome head to matters other than us.

 From the gallery catalog we read:  

". . . she has been a bridge between the heroic period of the School of Paris and the emergence of New York City as the new world center for contemporary art. While she has lived in New York and La Jolla, California, for many years, I believe that she has found a cultural home in New Orleans." ~ E. John Bullard, Director Emeritus, New Orleans Museum of Art

After the gallery reception, Gilot and Picasso had dinner at Antoine's with gallery founder, Jacob Manguno and a few gallery friends and art collectors. Bob and Marilyn Tarpy of Lafayette were among this number. "I've collected Gilot since 1972," Tarpy said.

"We are all very proud of our work over the past forty years, bringing fine French paintings to Louisiana," Manguno said, "FranΓ§oise Gilot is one of the best."

Again, Louisiana showed its ability to rise from gutter, hurricane or flood. 

Outside, levees groan. 

Inside, people chatted with FranΓ§ois Gilot, the ageing ex- of Pablo Picasso; and their Son, Claude Picasso. 

FranΓ§oise Gilot, Pablo Picasso,
and his nephew Javier VilatΓ³ / 
by Robert Capa 

________
Copyright, 2026, Leonard Earl Johnson, all rights reserved

are welcome

* * *

Lagniappe du jour

FranΓ§oise Gilot 
with (Son) Claude and (Daughter) Paloma 
by Pablo Picasso 

***


***

The Vincent Mann Gallery


                  http://www.LEJ.org
πŸ’₯
π‘ͺŸ π‘ͺž π‘ͺž
          

Coming next month

β–Ό


⭐Continuation of the Red Women Warriors Series⭐
            
Β© Leonard Earl Johnson 

~   ~   ~
 LEJ's Louisiana, Yours Truly in a Swamp
is a monthly e-column @ www.LEJ.world,
Hosted by GOOGLE BLOGGER,
and historically at
Les Amis de Marigny, New Orleans
publication of the
It is written by Leonard Earl Johnson
of Lafayette and New Orleans, Louisiana
 
Readers comments accepted after publication on the First of the month

http://www.LEJ.org

πŸ—£πŸ˜·


Β© 2026, Leonard Earl Johnson, All Rights Reserved 

Tuesday, September 01, 2026

✍Balthazar, Hildegarde, and the Pope / September 2026

 ~ Fiction ~

Roman Γ  clef, cher!

Created AI-free

by Leonard Earl Johnson

of Lafayette and New Orleans, Louisiana

 www.LEJ.world ✍ 

βš“

βš“   βš“

πŸ’œπŸ’šπŸ’›

 *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  


πŸ“–


LEJ's 
Louisiana

a monthly e-column at 

September 2026


Yours Truly in a Swamp

by  Leonard Earl Johnson

πŸ’«πŸ’₯πŸ’«πŸ’₯πŸ’«πŸ’₯πŸ’«πŸ’₯πŸ’«

"There were days I read the SHIPPING NEWS, and the INTERNATIONAL HERALD TRIBUNE; and met Augusto Pinochet in a resort in Ipanema. Now I read from my telephone and practice perpetual urination." ~ Seafarer on the beach, Rio de Janario
 
Β© 2026, Leonard Earl Johnson,  All Rights Reserved
❀

Best viewed for color contrast on a computer
or phone screen with a black background.




Reliquary in a private home, Lafayette, Louisiana
...........❀...........

Balthazar,
 
Hildegarde,
 
and The Pope

by Leonard Earl Johnson


            http://www.LEJ.org
πŸ’₯

Balthazar stands at the entrance to The Rectory awaiting Hildegarde Bottlebrush. The doors open.  Big walnut and cutglass doors. 

Hildegarde is the Rector's Housekeeper.  She is also the Republican's renowned Green Alligator Briefcase repairwoman.  The Green Alligator Briefcases she repairs are part of a D. C. Beltway designed project promoting the Republican Party's curious notion in Louisiana ~ that Global Warming is not happening.  

 Louisiana? Daily losing estuaries, oyster beds, fishing camps, and whole cities to 'nonexistent' warm tides!  Hildegarde knows this is wrong. 

"But briefcase repairs are a solid income be thee a MAGA believer or not." 

The briefcase is fixed to keep frozen a snowball as visual proof the icecaps are not melting. 

"They have a built-in freezer unit.  Often in need of repair." 

 The Frozen Snowball Project was inspired by the late U. S. Senator James Inhofe (Republican of Oklahoma) to propagate The Party's belief in non- Global Warming and carbon footprint donations. 
❆ 

"When units fail the snowball melts, see. Then the project's mission fails."  

Hildegarde explained this to The Rector, who gave her permission to freelance her repair work at The Rectory, in her own rooms, on her own time.

"Republicans give me a hundred, two hundred. Whatever.  Don't matter.  I just take what they offer.  Nothing to repairing them, but adjusting a screw on the side of the housing unit built for the purpose."

πŸ’¦πŸŒŽπŸ’¦

  Being of Louisiana's German/French Alsace-Lorraine descent, Hildegarde is most heritably good at fixing things and moderately good at holding her tongue 
~ sometimes.

For example: Impishly tickling inside of her as she addressed The Rector, was a desire to blurt out: "They'd probably give me free wine and an altar boy, too, if I asked."  

It would be funny to say that, but Hildegarde knew it would also torpedo The Rector's permission.  So she didn't.  Such being the state of theology today.  She held her tongue, smiled and remembered the uproar Balthazar caused reading, The Little Boy from Big Mamou, at The Bishop's birthday dinner (THE BISHOP TURNED 74 / January 2023).

"All it takes is time, attention, and a place to work. 

"And a screwdriver!" 

  κ©œ 

She pointed to the screw for The Rector's examination.  He nodded knowingly, secure in mechanics gleaned from nights long ago working at the filling station next door to his seminary dorm.

βš” ✠ βš”

Balthazar was at The Rectory presenting Hildegarde with yet another crippled briefcase.  A delivery he was doing as a favor for the two Red Warrior Women aboard his train from 
New Orleans. The two Red Women remained down on Rue Jefferson, near the Rosa Parks train station. They setup a table on the sidewalk outside RΓͺve Coffee Roasters, where they displayed a frozen snowball removed from a working Alligator Briefcase.

Inside the coffee shop, The Rector finishes his coffee, drops his cup in the dirty dish basket, and steps outside to examine the evidence.  

"You know," he says to Dillard, while holding the cube up to the sun, "The Pope has warned us not to ignore Global Warming. To do so being an affront to God's admonition to be good stewards of The Earth."

Prompted by fading faith, Balthazar observes after The Rector leaves, "The Pope should be careful Trump don't fly a drone through his bedroom window."

Hildegarde shudders at the thought. She believes strongly what she believes, with no concern about Trump's or The Pope's infallibility.  Or, for that matter, the pessimistic humanism Balthazar has taken to espousing. 

Too much time reading too much Schopenhauer, she thinks. 

Hildegarde asks, "What profits the person who scuttles their own ship-of-state just to steal their own brass?"

By their tribalism Cajuns are isolated from outside influences. These folks are bonded by their sense of place, and a deep seeded belief that it is morally permissible to lift gold, e-coins or banknotes from any outlander splashing through the Swamp  ~
be they Washington politicians, Texas oil men, The Pope, or Schopenhauer himself.

✞  β˜¨ βœž

Balthazar crosses the parking lot and enters The Cathedral, where he drops five dollars in a slot that lights an electric candle for the prayer of his choice.                                                       On the electric switchbox he places a little orange Voodoo Doll, two chicken wishbones and a dried spray of Spanish moss.

Live flaming candles are outlawed in Lafayette Parish churches.

 After he exits The Cathedral, a custodian watching from the shadows removes the Voodoo Doll and switches off the electric candle.

                  http://www.LEJ.org
πŸ’₯

π‘ͺŸ π‘ͺž π‘ͺž
          

Coming next month

β–Ό


⭐Continuation of the Red Women Warriors Series⭐
            
         * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 


Β© Leonard Earl Johnson 

~   ~   ~
 LEJ's Louisiana, Yours Truly in a Swamp
is a monthly e-column @ www.LEJ.world,
Hosted by GOOGLE BLOGGER,
and historically at
Les Amis de Marigny, New Orleans
publication of the
It is written by Leonard Earl Johnson
of Lafayette and New Orleans, Louisiana
 
Readers comments accepted after publication on the First of the month

http://www.LEJ.org


Β© 2026, Leonard Earl Johnson, All Rights Reserved