St. Bernard Proud by Toby Alfonso
A Journey Home Brother Martin Classmates, Teachers View Our Beauty & Community Values St. Bernard residents Toby Alfonso, left, and Michael Chalona attend Brother Martin High School in New Orleans.
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he eighth-grade field trip experience filled me with pride when we were riding down to my home, the most beautiful place to live – St. Bernard Parish. My class (Brother Martin High School) and I took a trip to St. Bernard to bag oyster shells and look at the Caernarvon freshwater diversion for our field experience, but the journey there was the best part.
Soon enough we arrived in Chalmette. I knew it when I saw the tall brown St. Bernard Stack. All of the good times from my past suddenly washed into my head. We passed my old school, Our Lady of Prompt Succor, bringing back colorful memories of my grammar school childhood, and I could taste the cheesy macaroni and red gravy from Rocky and Carlo’s as we went further.
We started our journey getting onto the cold, uncomfortable buses. Soon, I found myself in Arabi, the beginning of St. Bernard from New Orleans. Riding through Arabi, my teachers asked Michael Chalona, my best friend, and me questions, as we live in St. Bernard. We passed his house next to the run-down C&C Drug Store and the bright blues and reds of the spray-painted train cars that have gotten even more pleasing to me since the first time I saw them. Even though these things might not be appealing to some people, I find them beautiful. I have grown up with these things and they have attached themselves to me. I see the beauty meant by what the artists have intended for the train cars now; I know the story of the drug stores diminishing. Therefore, I am proud of Arabi. But my mind was on lower St. Bernard, where I live.
Meraux-Violet
14
Fall Issue 2023
Going deeper into the more rustic, rural side of St. Bernard, after passing the Chalmette refinery, where my dad works, and Valero, another plant, we were riding through the deep green cow pastures. The soft “moo” I heard once, but it was enough to make me realize that we were almost in small Meraux. Through Meraux, we passed the “square houses” as I like to call them. These houses more or less have a particular box shape that I have noticed throughout my years. As we kept on riding, we went through the tunnel of trees and saw the familiar orange-brown cluster of buildings I see every day – Docville farm, the place that I’ve spent countless hours for gatherings, car shows, events, and cookoffs. The reused barn area brings me joy.