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Franklin - A Homegoing Celebration for Judy P. Thompson, 74, will be held at 1:30 p.m., Saturday, January 13, 2018 at The Christian Temple Church, 306 Third Street, Franklin, La. Dr. Lionel Matthew Thompson, officiating.
Interment will follow in Perpetual Park Cemetery.
Visitation will on Saturday at the church from 9 a.m. until the commencement of the services.
Judy was born on September 27, 1943 in Jeanerette, La. to the union of the late Charles Thompson Sr. and Bernadine Robinson Thompson. She attained her formal education in the Schools of St. Mary Parish and went on to attend Grambling State University. She retired from Texas Southern University in Houston, TX as an Administrative Secretary, afterwhich she returned to Franklin, La.
In addition to her parents, she was also preceded in death by a grandson, Myron Wright; and two siblings, Annie Pearl Kirkpatrick and Cammie J. Thompson Sr. Judy suddenly but peacefully transitioned to eternal rest on Thursday, December 28, 2017 in Franklin, La.
Judy leaves to celebrate her life and embrace many precious memories with her daughter, Monica R. Thompson; three grandchildren, Melonie Thompson of Franklin, La. MaToya Wright of Baton Rouge, La. and Michael Wright, Jr. of Austin, TX; eleven siblings, Charles Thompson, Jr. of Franklin, La., Florsby (Doris) Thompson and Lionel Matthew (Lillian) Thompson, both of Atlanta, GA, Lillie Thompson of Shreveport, La., Michael Thompson of Washington, DC, Elois Thompson, Wanda Thompson, Myra Thompson, Thea (Keith) Smith, Dubose Thompson and Anthony (Isabelle) Thompson, all of Port Arthur, TX; one aunt, Alice B. Robinson of Franklin, La. as well as a host of nieces, nephews other relatives and friends who find comforted in knowing that “all things work together for the good to those who love God, who are the called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28
Arrangements are entrusted to Carney Funeral Home, 602 North Pierce St., Lafayette, La. 70501. 337-235-9789

The 2018 Bayou Beaux Summer Art Program Schedule is as follows:
Beginning Drawing (Jeanne Wattigny): June 4-6 from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m.
Beginning Acrylic (Laura Zuniga): June 6-8 from 9 a.m. to 12 p.m.
Beginning Portrait (Marissa Verrette): June 20-22 from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m.
Intermediate Drawing (Jeanne Wattigny): June 11-13 from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m.
Intermediate Acrylic (Laura Zuniga): June 13-15 from 9 a.m. to 12 p.m.
Intermediate Portrait (Marissa Verrette): June 27-29 from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m.
All art classes will be held in the art room on the second floor of City Hall. For more information about the class schedule, contact the Community Development Department: ashields@franklin-la.com or 337-828-6345.
The Bayou Beaux Arts and Dance Program is supported by a grant from the Louisiana Division of the Arts, Office of Cultural Development, Department of Culture, Recreation and Tourism in cooperation with the Louisiana State Arts Council as administered by the Acadiana Center for the Arts and by a Community Partnership Grant from the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival and Foundation.

Mr. and Mrs. Wilson Brown Jr. of Baldwin, La. would like to announce the forthcoming marriage of their daughter, Fatisha Antionette Brown, to Phillip Anthony Walker on Saturday, January 13, 2018, in Houston, Texas. The bride-elect is a 2005 graduate of West St. Mary High School and a graduate of the University Louisiana Lafayette where she received a Bachelor of Science in nursing. She received her master’s degree in nursing from Troy University. She is currently employed as a family nurse practitioner.
The prospective groom is the son of Mr. George Nelson, the Late Mrs. Analisa Nelson and grandson of Ms. Mary Catherine Goodman of Beaumont, Texas. He is a 2005 graduate of Ozen High School and a graduate of the University of Louisiana Lafayette, where he received a Bachelor of Science in business merchandising. He also received an associate degree from Alvin Community College in industrial technology. He is currently employed as a processor operator at Ineos O&P.
After the wedding and honeymoon, the couple will reside in Houston, Texas.

On a cold Friday afternoon some 30 years ago, I hitched a ride down the Calumet Cut with my wife’s uncle, Harry Lee Wiggins, to him and my father-in-law’s trapping camp for the weekend. Harry had a small shrimp boat called the Sea Biscuit that was big enough to haul gear, groceries and yes, my small family, too.
This was pretty much our weekend routine back then. I’m grateful today for Mrs. Flores putting up with me. It’s hard on a spouse, especially with toddlers, trying to make sure they have everything they need for a few days, miles away from home.
By contrast, I was out playing in the marsh much of the time. When I wasn’t duck hunting, I’d walk canal banks, jumping rabbits. I’d also go out and shoot a few nutria to help out my father-in-law during trapping season. Those were glorious days to be in the prime of your life taking on the challenges of all things in nature.
This particular weekend also happened to be New Year’s, so I’d get an extra hunting day. The only problem was one of those cracking northers blew in overnight with a sideways rain and a temperature that eventually dropped into the 20s. It was miserable, to say the least, and no one got up Saturday morning to hunt ducks.
When 11 o’clock rolled around, I was starting to go stir crazy. Everyone was sitting around half asleep on the couch, chairs and floor not wanting to go outside in the frigid cold. The wind was blowing so hard you practically had white caps in the bayou.
Harry Lee was feeling antsy like me, because that’s when he said, “Who wants to go duck hunting?”
He told us all the front was passing and the ducks would be flying to feed in the middle of the day. I was the only one who volunteered.
The camp was located in Leopard Bayou, just off Wax Lake, and there is a little piece of marsh in the middle of the lake they call Goat Island. Harry Lee had been shooting nutria on the island when he discovered two little ponds divided by a narrow strip of marsh with a couple of muskrat hills. The ponds were covered with duck feathers where they’d been eating and preening.
Harry Lee knew ducks and suggested I sit on those hills and use the natural cover to conceal me. No sooner had the sound of the Lycoming engine of his airboat drifted away, ducks were flying into the ponds. Big ducks – with green heads. And in no time, I limited.
I had braved the elements and felt strong and glorious. This is what manhood feels like.
Now, to change things up, one year ago on Jan. 8, at the age of 60, I suffered a heart attack. The temperature started out in the 20s that morning, and once again, I was in the marsh. This time, I wasn’t shooting waterfowl. Instead, I was banding snow geese with the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries with the intentions of writing about it.
When the rocket net fired, all of the volunteers raced to the net site about 150 yards away. I was wearing my insulated chest waders, several base layers of clothing and my heavy waterfowl hunting coat, plus carrying two cameras.
About half way, I stopped running. I had tightness and pain in my chest, found it hard to breathe and felt both nauseous and dizzy. I knew something was bad wrong, but I was on a mission to capture a story. Pride wouldn’t let me quit, so I pressed on without saying anything to the others half my age and finished the job.
At one moment, I mentally said to myself, “I’m going to die right here on Cameron Prairie in front of all these young people.”
The next three hours would be some of the hardest my wife ever endured during our 33 years of marriage. I called her and said I was driving home. My logic was I was over an hour from the nearest hospital in Lake Charles, and I didn’t want to wait for an ambulance.
What doctors found was I came down suddenly with Atrial Fibrillation. The A-fib caused a blood clot to strike my heart, causing minor damage. I never smoked, seldom drank, had the blood pressure of a teenager and heart rate of an athlete. I also worked out regularly and mostly ate right. If I have a vice, it is I do love sweets.
One of my biologist friends with the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries said, “If you would have put John Flores in the same sentence as heart attack, I’d never believed it.”
The bottom line: 2017 was a tough year for me. I was in the hospital three times, went through two heart procedures and been on and off more medicines than I care to say.
Right around November, my heart specialist, after looking at yet another EKG, said, “I like this. I’m happy. This is what we were waiting for. Sometimes it takes time to heal.”
I’m writing this because there are no New Year’s resolutions for me. I realized in 2017 a couple things: I’m no longer in my prime, so I need to quit acting like I did 30 years ago. The second thing is there is no promise of tomorrow.
None of this means I’m heading out to pasture. On the contrary, in 2018, I’m just not going to try to be first up the hill anymore. From now on, as long as I get there, I’ll be good with that.
I’m also going to continue to chase the best outdoor stories I can find again. I’m going to take my grandsons fishing. I’m going to try and mentor some younger lads, if I can convince them to put away their iPhones for a while. But, mostly, I’m going to endeavor to live life and try to enjoy every moment. I hope you will, too, in 2018.