The Other Daughter

When I was twelve years old we had new neighbors move into the house at the end of the street. The Laird's were an Air Force family and Mr. Laird had been transferred to England Air Force Base in Alexandria, Louisiana. At the tender age of twelve, I had no way of knowing this family would become more than neighbors, they would become part of my family.

Of course the normal neighbor kid stuff occurred: I met the oldest daughter and thought she was the coolest "grown" person I had ever known; I crushed on the older brother; I broke the youngest daughter's arm - by accident! We were playing "Blast Off" and she was incredibly light and aero-dynamic - she sailed through the air; and the middle daughter and I bonded and to this day, thirty-five years later we are still best friends. We will be friends for ever and ever because we know way too much about each other to ever try and sever the bond :) It's kind of like Lucy and Ethel meet Thelma and Louise. We always said we would probably be old spinster women living on opposite ends of the same street. It's true, I live on the corner of Moser Drive and Debby lives at the end of Moser Drive, and living in between us is one of the sweetest men God ever had the joy to create. David Laird, Pop, to his children and grandchildren, has been one of the constants in our neighborhood for the past thirty-five years. "Brother Dave" never met a stranger and never met a person who wouldn't benefit from his endless repertoire of "Boudreaux Cajun" jokes.

Whenever a holdiay would roll around I would usually gravitate toward the end of the street and spend part of the day with the Lairds. This happened so often that Pa started calling me "the other daughter." I never knew how much I needed to be "the other daughter" until my own father took ill. While Daddy was in and out of the hosptial over the course of two years, I found myself turning to Pa. The Laird house had never been a Coca-Cola house until one day Pa noticed I drank Cokes. After that day, whenever he went to the store to pick up grocery items for his family, he always made sure to buy Coca-Cola Classics for "the other daughter."

As time wore on, it became obvious to all who knew me that I was having to prepare for a life without a father. When Daddy died on September 16, 2003, I transferred a lot my feelings to Mr. Laird . At family gatherings he always made sure "all" his girls were present and accounted for. When I was grieving over Daddy and at a loss of what to do and where to go, I knew I was welcome at the end of the street. Pa lead by example. He extended his hand and love to someone who needed a father firgure and his family graciously accepted me.

It's hard to lose your father. My heart cries for Debby, Teena, Linda, Richard, and Scott. My heart breaks for Mrs. Laird who is loosing her friend, husband, and mate of sixty-one years. I grieve all who knew David Emory Laird and I grieve for those who will never get a chance to meet this wonderful man.

Listen to this joke: Boudreaux goes to the doctor complaining of a terrible pain in his arm. He tells the doctor " Doc, oh it hurt when I lift my arm above my head" "What should I do?" The doctor looks at him and says "Don't do it!" :) I Love You Pa from The Other Daughter