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C.L. Lucas
It’s almost 5 AM here in Texas and I’m trying to write a bio about myself to include on this site. I just don’t see how one can write about oneself without it being dry. Do I include a self-gratify...ver maisIt’s almost 5 AM here in Texas and I’m trying to write a bio about myself to include on this site. I just don’t see how one can write about oneself without it being dry. Do I include a self-gratifying laundry list of all the cool stuff I’ve done through life? Maybe, maybe not–but I can throw down a few facets here and we can just roll with it. In context, Bayou Boogaloo refers to the region where I grew up. While I’m using a pseudonym, it isn’t hard to figure out my real name. Why use a pseudo? Because I’m writing in two genre’s: one is serious fiction, the other belongs with The Boogaloo and (shhhhh....) has smut in the content.
I was born in South Louisiana in ’69, growing up in bayou country eating the standard Cajun food and doing some typical Cajun things like playing in ditches, cane fields, fishing, hunting and often mischievousness. My father, Luke, lost his legs in Vietnam–an event that with the idiosyncrasies of dealing with war experiences, destroyed my family and cast a shadow on my life that’s shaped and focused how my own has turned out.
Aside that, I enlisted in the Navy at 17, went on active duty at 18, flew as a Naval Aircrewman, fought in the first Gulf War and then went to college at Ole Miss on an NROTC scholarship. Of note–people wonder how a Louisiana native decided on Ole Miss and the simple answer Archie Manning usually settles the question. Commissioned as an Ensign in 1995, I went on to fly for the Navy as a Naval Flight Officer (think Goose), lived in Whidbey Island, Washington and once my initial service commitment was complete, switched over to the Air Force to fly B-52s, work as a Joint Terminal Attack Controller (JTAC) and Command a Tactical Air Control Party (TACP). Aside deploying countless times as an aviator, I deployed on the ground twice–once to Iraq, and another to Afghanistan, managing to get myself into a few fights. I’m retired now and I miss it. The military was my life and my identity but time and age changes who you are and is beyond our control–and now, I am, perhaps forming an ulterior identity to accentuate the one I already have.ver menos