The Old Man and the See: A Biography by Mike, Inspired by Lizzie
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The Old Man and the See - Michael Daigle
Copyright © 2023 by Michael Daigle.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,
without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,
and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
Rev. date: 04/29/2023
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
853039
CONTENTS
Acknowledgment
Foreword
Chapter 1The Vision
Chapter 2Growing Up
Chapter 3Traditions
Chapter 4Transformation
Chapter 5Live and Learn
Chapter 6The Thinker
Chapter 7Lessons Learned
Chapter 8Life Goes On
Chapter 9Thoughts About High School
Chapter 10Military Basic Training
Chapter 11Preparing for War
Chapter 12Vietnam
Chapter 13Lots to Think About
Chapter 14Living Outside Your Box
Chapter 15Mature at 21
Chapter 16Cajun Livin and Lovin
Chapter 17From Radio to TV, and Fire On The Ocean
Chapter 18From Top to Bottom
Chapter 19The Mental Transition
Chapter 20Sunny South Florida
Chapter 21Slippery Slopes to Level Ground
Chapter 22Big Turning point
Chapter 23Growth Mental, Physical, Spiritual
Chapter 24The Veil Is Lifted
Chapter 25A Parent’s Worst Nightmare, and Healing
Chapter 26Open Mind, Open Heart
Chapter 27We Are Consciousness
Chapter 28Wrap It Up
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
I have been blessed along my journey. I have climbed a few mountains and recovered in a few shadowed valleys. I have witnessed life, death, and much in between. But I have made a soft landing after three quarters of a century.
Hoping to have no regrets when I transition, there is a lot of kindness, compassion, and love still to come.
Thankfully, I will not leave thinking, I should have spent more time at the office
!
After raising seven kids, and having them raise me, I have been gifted with fourteen amazing grandchildren. In the last few years I have had the time and insights to understand my life has been one of contrasts, learning, living, and loving.
I am still mentally and physically in the game. Put me in coach! My wife, Susan, might roll her eyes at this one!
Thanks to everyone, especially my family, who supported my efforts to express my personal perspective on life, how to live it, and what comes next.
I hope you enjoy, The Old Man and The See
!
FOREWORD
At my high school, we have the opportunity to do a semester-long project about anything of our choosing. The idea is that the project would give us the freedom to take the initiative over what we want to learn about and still get college credit for it. I immediately knew that I wanted to write a book.
I mentioned the plan to write a book to my mother, and she told me that her father, my Papa, had voiced that he wanted to write a biography at some point. In my opinion, Papa is one of the most interesting people I have ever met, so it was a no-brainer that I should ask him if he wanted to write a book. Without considering the beast I was about to unleash, I texted Papa. I was delighted when I got the text back saying that he loved the idea. After many warnings that he did not live a PG
life (and me reassuring him that I’m not living one either), he began writing.
I assumed that this process would take months, if not, years. No more than two weeks later, Papa emailed me a document that already had 31 pages. Within two months, he sent me an email with the finished book. My first time reading it felt like reading gospel. The level of detail and strong narrative in his writing made me feel like I was watching a movie. This insight into my grandpa’s life fascinated me to no end.
Here’s the thing: Papa and I started getting close when I was about twelve or thirteen. Once he realized that I saw life in a similar way to him, he took me under his wing. We bonded over the fact that we both felt the need to grow up at a young age and we had the same crass sense of humor that drove our relatives crazy.
During the following years, Papa taught me many important things, like how to bark like a dog and ‘properly’ pour wine. We also had many heart-to-heart conversations about the things we were struggling with in our lives at the time. It is nice to know that I always have someone in my corner with Papa. He has an enviable way with words that always convey his messages to me clearly. My face never fails to light up when I see a text from him pop up on my screen, even more so when the text ends up being a ridiculously long paragraph about mindfulness and meditation. I swear, Papa and I could lead meditations together. Or have a podcast. However, the podcast would have to be rated ‘R’ for ‘really inappropriate and is probably not suitable for any demographic that has a weak stomach’.
All jokes aside, I love my Papa and I am so proud of him for going along with my crazy idea and making my dream a reality in a better way than I could have imagined. Papa, you are my inspiration for how I want to live my life and love those around me. Thank you. I love you.
CHAPTER ONE
The Vision
Pic%201%2c%20page%201.%20Old%20Man%20and%20the%20Sea.jpgOld Man and the Sea
I wake up in the morning and look over my toes. I see the Atlantic Ocean in all its splendor. I see the sun coming up, gently pushing the colors over the water. Surely, I must have died and gone to heaven. I move slowly, savoring each moment, being careful to never take it for granted. The world is very quiet. It gives me pause to reflect on the writing, Enjoying a good cup of tea
by Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Buddhist Monk.
You must completely be awake in the present to enjoy the tea. Only in the awareness of the present can your hands feel the pleasant warmth of the cup. Only in the present can you savor the aroma, taste the sweetness, appreciate the delicacy. If you are ruminating about the past or worrying about the future, you will completely miss the experience of enjoying the cup of tea. You will look down and the tea will be gone. Life is like that. If you are not fully in the present, you will look around and it will be gone. You will have missed the feel, the aroma, the delicacy and beauty of life. The past is finished. Learn from it and let it go. The future is not even here yet. Plan for it, but do not waste your time worrying about it. Worrying is worthless. When you stop ruminating about what has happened, when you stop worrying about what might never happen, then you will be in the present moment. Then you will begin to experience joy in life.
I have also learned that by age 7, you have been pretty much programmed for life. As an infant you are receiving vibrations from your parents and as you grow, you watch, listen, and learn from your parents. By age 7 your life is well programmed. I read a statement recently, Show me the first seven years and I will show you the man
.
Well, it took me three quarters of a century to understand this experience, and things are in order, but where did it all begin? I hit the ground crying January 21, 1947, a 9.1 lb. Cajun baby. My dad and mom, Bert Daigle and Ruth Lejeune, lived in a small home in downtown Iota, population 400, if the census were taken on a Sunday afternoon when everyone was visiting. It was a modest two-bedroom home on a nice corner lot with a large oak tree. Two sides of the house were gravel roads.
One of my first jobs as a little tyke was to spray the gravel roads with the hose to help with the dust that cars stirred up. Only Main Street had a paved road. We were not rich but were in the upper end of living standards in town. Dad was part owner and manager of a John Deere dealership. Mom would send me off with him when he visited his farm customers in the rice fields. We ate rice for lunch and dinner most nights. I spent a lot of time with Dad making his sales and service calls.
I also spent a lot of time at the library. Mom would drop my sister Sandra and I off once a week and I would return a book or two and check out a couple of more. I read a lot of books, especially in the summertime when school was out. Most of the books I liked were outdoor adventures, stories of the pioneers, the Indians, or men like Davy Crockett. I dreamed about living in those days of our founding fathers and wanted to grow up and be a forest ranger.
Our best entertainment was Iota’s movie theater and the portable skating rink. Yes, we actually had a movie theater that opened on weekends. A ticket was .50 cents. Our home was only a block from main street, so we always walked to the theater, many times barefoot. One Sunday I was running across main street to the theater and fell on the asphalt. I managed to tear off the toenail of my second toe, left foot. Today, I still have no toenail on that toe, but I did make it to the movie. The skating rink was another awe inspired event. Looking back, it was a sad, rundown, rink, but in those days it was the cat’s meow to us. I can only remember good times, going round and round and round, the portable floors sagging under your feet. In a small town it doesn’t take much to entertain kids.
Springtime made way for a favorite pastime of Cajun kids, catching crawfish! What a delicacy we enjoyed in South Louisiana. When the rice fields were flooded, the crawfish came out of the ground. We would stand on the bank or on a levee holding a long string with a raw chicken neck. Throw the chicken neck out a few feet into the water and let it sit. Moments later the string began to get taunt as the crawfish tried to pull the chicken neck further out in the water. Patiently, you slowly pulled the string in with the crawfish holding on the chicken neck. One by one you gathered them in until you had enough for a crawfish boil. First you seasoned a large pot of water and brought it to a boil. You added onions, potatoes, corn on the cob, and of course the live crawfish. Everyone sat around a picnic table covered in newspapers. The crawfish, onions, potatoes and corn would be poured in a pile in front of you. When you finished, just roll up the newspaper with the scraps, throw it away and put more newspaper down. Ready for your second serving! A rule of thumb is most people eat about six pounds of crawfish in a sitting. It is an amazing tradition and a delicious delicacy. The tail is the only edible part, except for the fat stored in the thorax. You read about Cajuns sucking the heads of crawfish, but I have never witnessed this. I have, however, on many occasions, used my thumb to pull the delicious fat from the thorax. In springtime, there is a week of so of Crawfish Festivals. The most popular one is in Breaux Bridge, just outside of Lafayette. So many great seafood restaurants in Breaux Bridge. We absolutely loved Mulatte’s.
CHAPTER TWO
Growing Up
Pic%202%20page%206.%20OMATS.jpgOMATS
My mom had three kids by this time and had a maid helping at home. Her name was Ivy Lee, an African American who absolutely loved to laugh and I absolutely did what I could to make her laugh. But at the expense of my poor Mom. She always said I wasn’t a bad boy, just mischievous. I would get Mom so riled up she would chase me with a broom while Ivy Lee fell on the floor laughing. I was small and quick and usually dove under a bed where Mom couldn’t easily get to me. But her broomstick could! She would start poking at me under the bed and I kept saying, You missed me. You missed me
, all the while taking good licks from the broomstick. But my joy was seeing Ivy Lee howl with laughter. Mom sent me to first grade early, I was five and a half and the youngest in my class. She needed a break, poor lady. Unfortunately, my propensity to make people laugh continued into first grade. I attended St. Francis catholic school for 12 years and began in first grade with Sister Peter. Nuns aren’t known for their jovial spirits, and I got occasional swats from her ruler. When my antics continued, they would send word to my parents, and I would get a spanking by Dad. I can remember the day when, after the teacher had to leave the room, I took a dare to jump out the window at school. It was a single story building so I took the dare since it would get me a few laughs and I could hop right back in. Just as I hit the ground outside the window, the nun walked back into the room! Yikes, trapped like a rat. Not good to be the first rat. I know now that it is the second rat that gets the cheese! After several events, I think Dad just got tired of spanking me. He felt sorry for me and would take me in the bathroom and hit his own leg with the belt while I screamed bloody murder. It seemed to satisfy Mom, who probably thought the score was getting even after my attempts to outrun her and hide, so it helped in its own way. What Mom loved was to watch me eat. I loved to eat! My nickname then was Poncho
!