Excerpts From TROUBADOUR

Chapter 2

During the evening, the volume of cigarette smoke and loud, drunken voices became distracting, which caused me to lose some of my   concentration. Uncle Charlie stayed in his musical zone and I did my best to play along with him.

Above the noise of the crowd, two female voices were screaming at each other about their mutual boyfriend. Suddenly, the crowd parted as tables, chairs and glass flew through the room and shattered. The enraged women tore at each other’s hair for control of the fight. Finally, a couple of bouncers were brave enough to cuff each woman’s hands behind their backs as I heard sirens approaching the club.

 .... After the club closed for the night and we were tearing down our instruments and amps, Uncle Charlie said, “That fight was your initiation into night club work. Drugs and alcohol bring out the worst in people and fights are common every night. If it bothers you, you’re in the wrong   business.”

Chapter 10

While I was in Alaska, Linda worked as a packer at one of the local fruit warehouses [in Yakima] and fell in love with the male supervisor. . . . We’d been through thick and thin together for twenty-two years, lost our baby girl and were raising our two beautiful, healthy children. Now our love and efforts had come to an end.

Since I was singing mostly country songs on the weekends, the lyrics about heartbreak and betrayal made me realize that I was singing about my own life. I finished my obligations with my group of musicians and absolutely could not bear to sing for another five years or even listen to the radio.

Chapter 12

On my first airplane ride to Johnston Island in 1988, I didn’t know what to expect. Paradise? Prison? Army training camp? Suddenly, the island peeked over the horizon like a floating lily pad. I looked at the other men to see what their reaction to landing on Gilligan’s Island was. When they looked back at me, I could tell we were thinking the same thing. “What the hell am I doing here?”

Chapter 13

We resembled Pillsbury Dough Boys or astronauts in our full body suits . . If any of the agent got on a team member’s skin or if they breathed agent, they could be severely burned or die.

Chapter 18

In song writing, you have this great inspiration that comes into your mind - this drive, this inner voice - and your inner spirit is what writes the song. It’s very mystical. You can’t force it. It’s got to come naturally. To try to put that dream song into words of explanation so that the other musicians can understand the arrangement in your mind miraculously works sometimes.

Chapter 22

In meditating back on the forty-one years that we had been together and the times that we had been apart, I was so thankful that I was finally able to give [Linda] the few things in life that she wanted: a home of her own, a place for the family to gather and a secure nest for our grandson. [Before her passing,] Linda had the aura of an angel . . . and the tender heart of a little girl.

Chapter 24

Just like a shotgun blast, a series of events came at us that were alarming and required quick action and many prayer sessions to repair the damage. . .   I was stunned by this turn of events and could hardly put two words together much less think clearly enough to settle the financial mess. [Suzanne] attacked the problems like a prize fighter, which revealed to me I’d found a true and loyal friend.

Chapter 28

While on my honeymoon with Suzanne in south Louisiana, we two-stepped and waltzed to rollicking Cajun music. . . .   My dream was to bring authentic Cajun music to Yakima, the music of my heritage. Since my name means river in French, The Bayou Boys was a natural choice for the name of our band.

Chapter 31

Monday, 10 a.m., October 2, 2006 I had a recording date at Master Trak Enterprises in Crowley, Louisiana.

Mark spoke to me from the sound room: “Larrah, we g’on start out nice and easy wit’ Luzianna Man. Just sing wit’ the beat and watch me for your signal to come in.”

Suzanne’s song, Gator Woman, was the final song. [She] wanted the song played in a minor key including a gypsy fiddle and a voodoo, jungle sound. . .   The gypsy-fiddle and heavy percussion would give it a voodoo touch. “Big L” kept   that jungle beat going throughout the song and knew just when to pull back and let the vocals take center stage . .   The end result was pure magic with lots of spooky overtones.