Courtesy of Terry Jones.
Terry and Carol when they were Louisiana Tech students in 1974.
My wife Carol says I lead a charmed life. I like to think that any success I have had is a result of my intelligence and hard work, but truth be told, she’s right.
In my golden years, I can now look back and see how events that seemed insignificant at the time had a profound effect on my life. God truly works in mysterious ways.
In 1974, I enrolled in Mr. Morgan Peoples’ Louisiana History class at Louisiana Tech University. Mr. Peoples was very popular, and I had been trying unsuccessfully to get a seat in his class for some time. That spring quarter, I got lucky.
Mr. Peoples had taught high school for many years and his lectures were quite entertaining. He was also the only professor I recall at Tech who made students sit in alphabetical order. I didn’t realize at the time how serendipitous that would be.
On the first day of class, a shapely young woman took the seat in front of me. She was pretty, had long auburn hair, and wore sexy little granny glasses. I liked what I saw but was too shy to say anything and she never made an attempt to speak to me.
A few weeks later, Mr. Peoples returned our first test. When the young lady took her test, I was watching and saw that her name was Carol Janette. She then looked at my test and noticed the “100” written at the top. Turning around to give it to me, she simply said, “I hate people like you.”
Now knowing her name, I took a chance and hustled out when class was over. Catching up with her in Madison Hall, I stammered, “You’re Carol, aren’t you?” I then introduced myself and asked if she would like to go to the Tonk for some coffee. “I don’t drink coffee this time of day,” Carol said, but then added, “I will have a Coke.”
The rest, as they say, is history. We will celebrate our forty-fifth anniversary next month. I sometimes think about how my life would have turned out differently if I had not succeeded in getting into Mr. People’s class that spring, and he had not made us sit in alphabetical order.
Another seemingly insignificant moment that changed my life took place several years later when I was pursuing my doctorate in history at Texas A&M University. To make ends meet financially, I took a part time job with the archaeology department to research and write historical background reports about the local area dig sites.
One project was near Plaquemine, Louisiana, so I wanted to include some information about the historic Plaquemine Lock on Plaquemine Bayou. I had finished my research but, on a whim, decided to swing by the Louisiana Office of State Parks in Baton Rouge because the lock was a state commemorative area, and I thought there might be some additional information there.
I set up a meeting with the man who oversaw the commemorative areas. I didn’t find any new information about the locks, but during our visit he happened to ask about my plans once I graduated. When I said I just wanted to get a job, he mentioned that he would soon be hiring a manager to open up Fort St. Jean Baptiste in Natchitoches, the agency’s newest commemorative area.
Jobs for a person with a history doctorate were scarce at the time, and my best hope was to become a part-time teacher at a Texas junior college with the possibility that it might turn in to a full-time position. The Fort St. Jean Baptiste job interested me because I could work in the field of history, and it would allow Carol and me to move back home. I kept in touch and was hired a few months later. Becoming manager of Fort St. Jean Baptiste was one of the most important steps in my professional career, and I really enjoyed the position and the people I worked with.
A few years later, the Louisiana School for Math, Science, and the Arts opened in Natchitoches. At the time, I was teaching part-time for Northwestern State University and happened to carpool to England Air Force Base with one of the Louisiana School teachers. He informed me that a new history position was opening up and that I should apply. I did, was hired, and enjoyed teaching at the Louisiana School for seven years.
All of this experience helped me land a position on the faculty of Northeast Louisiana University (now the University of Louisiana at Monroe) where I retired as professor emeritus of history after a twenty-five-year career. None of that would have happened if I hadn’t decided to make a quick stop at the Office of State Parks thirty-five years earlier. Serendipity, indeed.
Dr. Terry L. Jones is professor emeritus of history at the University of Louisiana at Monroe. For an autographed copy of “Louisiana Pastimes,” a collection of the author’s stories, send $25 to Terry L. Jones, P.O Box 1581, West Monroe, LA 71294.
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