My Lebanese and Cajun heritage -- lots and lots of hair

            My siblings and I are a mixture of Lebanese and Cajun heritage. The cultures are on opposite ends of the world, but it's uncanny the traits the two share. I don't know what side my likes and dislikes come from, but they intersect more times than not.

            Take hair. The hair on my head falls out in handfuls, clogging up the shower drain at least once a week. Using tweezers to remove hair from my upper lip, chin and on my eyebrows is like using a nail clipper to cut the lawn.

            Both cultures share a love of food, which is a mixed blessing. My relatives taught me that food cures everything, both good and bad.

            Feeling down? Drown your sorrows in Pepsi and some hummus. Having a bad day? Then it's a full-course meal of rice and gravy with a side order of corn bread slathered in butter. Because nothing says "I love you" more effectively in both the Lebanese and Cajun cultures than a big helping of fattening food.

            Or two helpings.

            Or three.

            The ability to swear. I know all the major profanities from both languages. Thank you, Uncle Vinny, for teaching me how to swear in Arabic.

            Thank you, Grandma Hebert, for teaching me to swear in French. Throw in hand motions from both cultures, and there's no doubt what I'm trying to say.

            Nicknames. My Lebanese grandmother also had nicknames for her grandchildren. Because I was the oldest and bossiest grandchild, I was "The General," and my take-charge sister was "Nikita," after Khrushchev.

            My Cajun grandmother had a boyfriend that wasn't too bright. She called him "Eh La Ba," which means "you over there." He never knew what the term really meant.

            How to treat elders. Our Aunt Domina was a borderline hoarder and showed up at the oddest times at my grandmother's house. We still respected and accepted her.

            It was the same with the odd relatives on my dad's side. We overlooked their idiosyncrasies and chalked it up to being eccentric like all good Southerners.

            How to eat odd foods. None of our Lebanese cousins think it's odd to eat raw meat (kibbee) or to add pine cone nuts to ground meat and then bake it.

            Likewise, none of our Cajun cousins thing we're crazy when we order blood sausage (boudin) or slurp raw oysters. And from both cultures, everything tastes better when it's either wrapped in bread or the remnants of what's on the plate is sopped up with bread.

            The value of money. From my Lebanese relatives, I learned how to pinch pennies. I remember watching my Lebanese grandmother wash aluminum foil so she could reuse it.  

            From my Cajun relatives, I learned "laissez le bon temps rouler" – let the good times roll. I've learned to combine the two for a more satisfying way to handle life.  

            The cultures crossed when it came to weddings. Both cultures invite every cousin and friend to the wedding, and they all come.  

            And the booze. Lebanese weddings were swimming in wine as were all the Cajun weddings I ever attended.

            Both cultures love dancing – the Lebanese people dance the "dubkee" at weddings and the Cajuns dance with anybody who's in the room.  

            I'm betting there are other cultures that mirror mine – there's always that crazy aunt that dances like she's on Bourbon Street, the uncle that performs magic tricks and the grandmother who pinches your cheeks and asks when you're going to finally settle down, get married and have babies.

            Oceans and continents may separate us but when it comes to food and having fun, I think most cultures would agree – live it up like your hairy Aunt Domina.

 This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.