Doesn't get weirder than this — Abita Mystery House

You would think that a Weird South writer living in South Louisiana would have put the Abita Mystery House at the top of my list. And you would be right. A museum dedicated to all things odd? Sometimes, those amazingly weird attractions in your own backyard are the ones hardest to visit; I could never find the time or be in the right place to visit.

I finally found an opportunity.

And the heavens sang.

The Abita Mystery House is a rambling collection of buildings, centered around one main house, all filled with thousands of collectibles, found objects, unusual memorabilia, weird taxidermy, animated displays and so much more. It's the brainchild of Abita Springs artist John Preble, who assembled these items into a somewhat coherent fashion:

Shard House bathroom wall

• Religious postcards and artwork next to a Reed Organ.
• The Louisiana plantation home display complete with oil and gas industry next door.
• Taxidermy hybrids such as Buford the Bassigator, a combination gator and bass fish, or Darrell the dogigator.
• Push a button and the Mardi Gras diorama parade comes to life.
• The Shard House is literally a house made up of pottery, glass and mirror shards and contains one of the most interesting bathrooms you will ever find. Make sure you hold it until you get there.
• And then there's the endless number of paint-by-number pieces, yard and street signs and collections of everything from combs to old radios. 
• Play the Marble Machine to watch marbles fall down a wooden maze created by Preble.
• An Airstream filled with more craziness.
• And then there's my favorite, the Hot Sauce House, filled with bottles of — you guessed it — hot sauce.

Oh heck, we'll just show you the photos:

Mardi Gras Diorama

Old postcard collection

Diorama of a trailer park hit by a tornado

Leroy the Large-mouthed bass

More weird taxidermy

Hot Sauce House

Be sure and take in the gift shop as well, featuring a wide collection of funny gift items as well as artwork by Preble.

The Abita Mystery House is located on Hwy. 36 East in Abita Springs, Louisiana, one block from the Abita Springs traffic circle and about an hour outside of New Orleans. The museum is open 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. daily except major holidays. Admission is $3 for those over 3 years old.

Cheré Dastugue Coen is a food and travel writer living in South Louisiana who is the author of several Louisiana romances under the pen name of Cherie Claire and the author of “Forest Hill, Louisiana: A Bloom Town History,” “Haunted Lafayette, Louisiana” and “Exploring Cajun Country” and co-author of “Magic’s in the Bag: Creating Spellbinding Gris Gris Bags and Sachets.” Write her at cherecoen@gmail.com.

People standing on rocks

            People love to stand on rocks in the South. Maybe it’s because our mountains are tired after years on this earth, resting gently to let the moss grow on their backs as opposed to the majestic heights of the Rocky Mountains to the west with its sharp precipices and mighty peaks. In the South, there aren’t that many grand places to step out on to. (Considering Southerners and their love of hijinks, that could be a good thing.) But life in the South is more like a soft Blue Ridge vista or an Ozark overlook sporting fall colors down a gentle slope.

            I hail from the Deep South, a land created by mud deposits of the Mississippi River where rocks are purchased at lapidary shops. So naturally, I’m all about shooting a photo of me on top of Lookout Mountain.

            “Offbeat Tennessee” writes about one such place that has drawn visitors for years, Umbrella Rock on Lookout Mountain above Chattanooga, Tenn., where up to 30 people at a time can pose on the formation — and have! Even presidents Theodore Roosevelt and FDR (must be a Roosevelt thing) have visited Umbrella Rock for a photo opp. Of course today taking one’s photo would be too dangerous so the rock formation is currently off limits.

            You can view a collection of photos taken on Umbrella Rock here. And even more here.

            And by the way, visitors standing on Umbrella Rock can view seven states from that impressive rock collection! On a clear day.

            I’m going to end with a couple of my own. My grandparents took my father on a road trip to the Ozarks and visited Pivet Rock and Natural Bridge outside Eureka Springs, Arkansas (that's the threesome in the photo to the right). When I visited the area, I stopped at the park and gazed upon this rock formation that I knew I had seen before. No, my family didn’t climb on top for their immortal photo — my grandfather would have never allowed it — but they did bring home a photo nonetheless. 

             And guess what? So did I.

Cheré Coen is an award-winning travel writer specializing in the Deep South. She is also the author of “Forest Hill, Louisiana: A Bloom Town History,” “Haunted Lafayette, Louisiana” and “Exploring Cajun Country: A Historic Guide to Acadiana” and co-author of “Magic’s in the Bag: Creating Spellbinding Gris Gris Bags and Sachets.” Write her at cherecoen@gmail.com.

If you go to hell, it's your fault

     Southerners have a love affair with the lord. They don't call it the Bible Belt for nothing. And it's not enough to go to church every Sunday, you have to share it with the world.
     Take Henry Harrison Mayes, a thin Kentucky native whose nickname was High Weed but who entered the coal mines at the young age of 15. Only a few years later a runaway coal car nearly crushed Mayes, slamming him against the mine wall and breaking numerous bones in his chest.
     This brush with death changed young Mayes' life; he swore to God that if he spared him, he would dedicated his life to returning the favor. And spare him God did.
     Mayes kept the bargain, building signs that he erected all over roadsides, on trees, the sides of barns and even on coal cars. Later, Mayes turned to large concrete signs weighing hundreds of pounds each with messages such as "Prepare to Meet God" and "Jesus is Coming Soon." He worked double shifts to pay for the signs, one shift to support his family and the other for the Lord, never asking for donations but receiving assistance from all kinds of places.

     In Mayes' lifetime, he placed signs throughout the country and overseas and spiritual messages in 56,000 bottles that he threw in rivers and creeks.
     "Harrison Mayes didn't believe in belonging to one church," wrote Fred Brown in a 1998 article in The Knoxville News-Sentinel. "He was non-denominational and never hesitated to attend any church of any denomination, including Catholic, black and Jewish synagogues.
      "After all, Harrison Mayes was God's own messenger. The way he figured it, he would fit in just about anywhere."
      Many of Mayes's signs are on display at the Museum of Appalachia outside Oak Ridge, Tenn., which also features an impressive collection of pioneer buildings and artifacts on 65 acres.

If you can't go to Greece, try Nashville instead

            People were thinking big during the Tennessee Centennial Exposition that occurred in Nashville in 1897. Many buildings that went up during the Exposition followed an ancient theme — the Southern city had been called the “Athens of the South” for its highfalutin universities such as Vanderbilt — so it was only natural for them to recreate the Parthenon. This massive building in the heart of Nashville is an exact reproduction.

            The original building was meant to be a temporary display — yeah, let’s build the Parthenon but don’t worry about making it permanent! Nashville residents were so enthralled with having a slice of Greece in their midst, their mouths watering for grape leaves daily, that they insisted the towering building remain. The plaster, wood and brick building was then rebuilt using concrete. The Nashville Parthenon got an even more thorough facelift in 2002.

            Today, the Southern Parthenon is used as an art museum in the middle of Centennial Park, just outside downtown Nashville. Inside the icon lies another re-creation, that of Athena Parthenos, standing at 42 feet high and covered with more than eight pounds of gold leaf. In case you’ve forgotten your Greek history, the Parthenon was dedicated to the goddess Athena.
            So save your money if you’re thinking of heading to Greece. Nashville, Tenn., might just do the trick.

Get out of Mardi Gras free card

            People throw parties continuously during the Carnival season, especially if they live on a parade route. Nothing attracts partygoers like free food and beer and a place to pee!

            In Lafayette, Cajun Bail Bonds sits on prized parade real estate, at the corner of Vermilion and Lafayette streets, where all of Lafayette’s parades roll down and turn. This choice corner attracts hoards of people, and to keep them all happy on Mardi Gras Day Cajun Bail Bonds provides them with lunch.

            “Come out, grab a burger and get you some Cajun Bail Bonds swag,” they announced on their Facebook page for their 14th Annual Mardi Gras Cookout. “T-shirts, coozies, pens...and as always everything is free.”

            What’s the catch, to use a Mardi Gras pun?
            The year we stood in front of Cajun Bail Bonds — and enjoyed a really good hamburger — we also received their business card. Maybe those free burgers pay off in the end — with clients!

Gone but never forgotten

            

Our loved ones may be gone, but they are not forgotten. In the South, you’ll find cemeteries filled with trinkets, wind chimes, religious statues, non-religious statues, toys, fishing poles, solar lights and much more. Here’s a couple from cemeteries throughout the South.

Saints fans even in death

            We love to decorate our cemeteries in the South.

            Along the Gulf Coast, tombs are mostly above ground due to the high water table that makes it difficult to place our beloved departed into soil. Visitors will find simple crosses denoting graves or elaborate tombs that resemble small homes. In New Orleans, we call these collections of above-ground tombs “Cities of the Dead.”

            With all this grave architecture, it’s no wonder people like to enhance them a bit. And in South Louisiana around All Saints Day (Nov. 1), residents spruce up their family tombs and give them a fresh coat of whitewash as well.

            So throughout this month of October, we’ll be spotlighting some interesting tombs we’ve found over the years.
            At right is a grave found in St. Louis No. 3 in New Orleans, just outside of City Park. Not only did “Mother” get her share of Mardi Gras beads, but a nod to the Saints as well. The living ones who play football in the Superdome, that is.

It’s not weird, it’s down-right gross

            I had a run-in last night with a roach the size of Montana. I could have sworn the damn thing winked at me from my lampshade as if to say, “Try swatting me on this baby, bitch!” I sent in my best man, my brave son Taylor, who after knocking the imposter on to the floor managed to beat him into submission.

Audubon Insectarium in New Orleans offers an up-close view.

            It took four hours.            

            You know I’m kidding, but not by much. I live in South Louisiana where these suckers — called tree roaches — grow the size of dogs. OK, exaggerating again. In reality, they’re oversized, they fly and they multiply like rabbits in our humid, junglesque environment.

            And before you start judging the cleanliness of my home (Yahoo Answers will back me up!), we all have them, even those McMansion folks. I remember once walking the streets of New Orleans at night with tourists who have that romantic Tennessee Williams idea of the city in their heads. We were on Prytania, waiting to cross the street to take in a movie. Above us, flying around a streetlight, was a collection of these buggers. My tourist friends asked if they were small birds.

            In my husband’s haste pulling out of our driveway one night he knocked off our faucet and sent water everywhere. Our plumbers, who are now our best friends, raced to the rescue but the new faucet has left behind a small hole leading straight into the kitchen sink. Call it the super roach highway. It could be a pinhole and those nasty creatures would find a way in.

            So today, I will be closing the front door to the roach motel with a calking gun, then spraying everything in sight. Hopefully they won’t even check in. The only thing worst than a live roach is one dead on its back, waiting for your shoe, sending off a cracking noise that drowns out the TV.

            Now, if you’re one of those weird people who loves looking at creatures like this, the Audubon Institute in New Orleans has a fabulous Audubon Butterfly Garden and Insectarium, located in the U.S. Custom House on Canal Street, that includes a Cockroach Chat, a live cam of the museum’s miniature New Orleans kitchen crawling with you know what. I've included a nice photo above of the Insectarium, because there was no way I was going to post a cockroach to my blog! I know my readers will thank me. 

We take football very seriously — what’s the problem?

             I’m hesitant to write this blog because I don’t see anything weird about 90,000 people gathering inside a stadium screaming and yelling and drinking for the love of football. The fact that almost an equal number of tailgaters are surrounding the stadium in RVs screaming and yelling and drinking doesn’t strike me as weird either.

            When people tell me members of my alma mater are obnoxious and yell horrible things at the opposing team, not to mention that wonderful ditty we penned for Alabama fans, I don’t understand the problem. Are they Tiger bait or not?

            By now, from the looks of the photos posted here (no Crimson on my blog, thank you very much), you’ve probably caught on where I went to school. Yes, I’m a Tiger from LSU, part of the rocking Southeastern Conference that’s a serious group of powerhouses.

            And yes, we’re a weird group of people to the rest of the nation. On any given Saturday night, the population of small cities gathers around SEC stadiums. There are cookbooks, as in plural, celebrating out tailgating ways, much of which could be served in the finest New York restaurants. And we dress. Well, I don’t wear my finest because I don’t want to worry about cleaning bourbon and coke from my good clothes. But if you’ve been to The Grove at Ole Miss, you’ll know what I’m taking about.

            This is not your average college football.

            Yes, we’re weird when it comes to football. What’s the problem?

            

P.S. Email me if you want to hear the Bama ditty.

If smoke comes out, there’s a new crawfish pope

           We eat just about anything in South Louisiana, including the low man on the underwater totem pole, the crawfish. These creatures live in freshwater wetlands, which is pretty much all of South Louisiana. And because they love water, such as bayous, marshes, swamps, ditches and the like — again all of South Louisiana — it’s not uncommon that you’ll find them burrowing in your backyard.

            In summer the most common species of crawfish crawls deep in the mud and stays there for most of fall and winter. When they come out of their holes in spring, it’s crawfish season, meaning Louisiana residents gobble them up. It’s amazing the species has survived.

            One of the most unusual sites you will see in South Louisiana are little mud "chimneys" poking out of the ground. Inside these chimneys there’s a crawfish or two living in his underground tunnel.

            Since Bob Thomas of the Loyola University Center for Environmental Education explains it so much better than I can, here’s his take on things:
          “Crawfish chimneys are those “smokestack”-looking things that appear in ditches, fields, and our yards each spring,” he writes. “Everywhere you see one (sometimes a crawfish will make two), there is a crawfish living in a burrow underneath. Their tunnels may extend down into the earth 3 feet or more, sometimes being a single burrow going straight down, but more often being a main tunnel with a couple of side tunnels, each with a room at the end. They are normally full of water.”