Dorothy Demandre Watson

Dorothy Alice Demandre Watson was born on August 8, 1934, in Home Place, Louisiana. Franklin D. Roosevelt was president, Babe Ruth of the Yankees announced his last season of baseball, and 1934 marked the first appearance of Donald Duck in the cartoon “The Wise Little Hen.”

Daughter of Lilian and Alexander Demandre, Dorothy was affectionately known as Dot to family and friends. Sisters Lorraine, Gladys, Helen, and Hortense, along with brothers Clarence and Hollis, filled the large two-story house fronting the Mississippi River, where occasional stalks of ripe bananas or coconuts were washed up on the Batture—a boon from ships sorting through perishable cargo destined for the Port of New Orleans.

Dot was eleven years old when WWII ended for the US. Captured German soldiers, POWs, were a common sight in Port Sulphur as the camp was situated near her home. She nonchalantly shared stories of watching them go off to work on nearby farms, cutting grass on the levees, and of going to the camp once with her mother to trade food for a carved palm tree made by a prisoner.

Dorothy married William James Watson, a ‘stump jumper’ from Mississippi, and they had four children: Rose, Elizabeth, John, and Cecile. She was a homemaker for her entire life, with the exception of one week when she worked at McDonald’s.

She did love to bake, and whiskey-soaked fruit cakes were her specialty and were months in the making. Children were flatly denied these eighty-proof bombs served during the holidays. The baking of these cakes began in September with a trek to Gretna, shopping at Schwegmann Brothers Supermarket. Candied cherries, red and green; candied pineapple, citron, ginger, dried apricots, and pecans were purchased along with flour, vanilla, and three fifths of Schwegmann brand whiskey!

Dot was the originator of the traveling First Communion Suit used by every grandson and neighborhood Catholic boy from Port Sulphur to Empire making their First Holy Communion. A three-piece white suit was initially purchased to include a white belt, white button-down shirt, white bow tie, white socks, and white shoes that completed the ensemble. No matter the size of the boy, the suit was taken in or let out, and it always fit. The traveling suit was worn by every grandson—Jay and Avery Bulot, Justin Amos, Mitchel, and James Heard—and eventually had a life of its own, spending time with cousins and family friends. Kelli Bulot Marinovich, being the only granddaughter, was lucky enough to get her own communion dress! The suit was carefully packed away and passed on year after year until its loss during Hurricane Katrina.

It was in Dot’s nature to give, and that is what made her happiest. Since 2019, Dot resided in Riverbend Nursing Home. Even when she could no longer give as she once did, she still found ways to spread joy. On a regular basis, she made crafts or colored pictures and sent them in the mail or had them hand-delivered with short notes to her great-grandkids, letting them know they were in her thoughts. She will be sorely missed.

Addendum -

To her grandkids, she was Maw Maw Dot, or just Maw Maw, and later on, Dotsy. We thought it was the coolest thing that she worked at McDonald’s—it may have only been for a day, maybe longer, but McDonald’s was a treat when we got to go to town, and she still had her uniform in the closet when we were kids. She worked there when she and William moved to “town.” That’s when we grandkids figured out how to call long distance—probably the whole reason we even learned. And back then, that was a big deal; usually, you only needed four numbers to call, five if you were trying to call Lizzy or Justin way down in Empire.

On a regular basis, we’d ring up Maw Maw with any excuse to get her to take us to the store, and sure enough, she’d get into that VW Rabbit and drive from the West Bank down to Port Sulphur. Back then, that was easily a 2- to 2.5-hour drive one way, but she never hesitated. As we got older, Maw Maw Dot became the one you called when you needed a quiet ride back home without mom or dad finding out where you’d been. More than once, she took the old red Chevy truck and picked us up near Fort Jackson or Belle Chasse, just before dusk, because we wouldn’t have made it home on our bikes time. Our parents were none the wiser—no questions asked. Oh, she’d fuss and gripe, but never so much that we wouldn’t call her again next time we needed saving!

For many of us grandkids, that old red Chevy truck was more than just a vehicle; it was where we learned to drive—sometimes well before we were old enough for a learner’s permit. First, we’d sit on her well cushioned lap just steering up and down the shell road. As we got older, Maw Maw Dot thought nothing of putting us behind the wheel, happy to spark a little independence in us. I remember one time, driving down the old shell road, I convinced her I knew a shortcut to the Dollar Store—I’d taken it a hundred times on my bike. Well, that little adventure went south real quick—I managed to get the truck good and stuck in the mud. Of course, I thought I could handle it, but it was clear we needed backup. William had to come out and get us unstuck. Maw Maw Dot, always quick to shield us, took the blame like it was all her idea.

While the whiskey-soaked fruit cakes might be a distant memory, for some of us grandkids, we remember her pumpkin pies best. That’s still my favorite. Her recipe gets pulled out every fall for the holidays, and it’s like she’s there with us. Maw Maw had her own treats, too; she loved a good strawberry daiquiri—a habit she picked up when a daiquiri shop opened across from her place on Sketchers Lane. And for better or worse, she also enjoyed Taco Bell.

After the oil bust, she and William never had much, but whatever she had, she gave willingly, almost to a fault—to her kids and grandkids. Dot loved fresh game and seafood. After a successful night of hunting rabbits, we’d stop by her house on our way home around midnight to drop off one or two freshly-shot rabbits. For us, cleaning rabbits was a whole production. We’d have a string tied up out back and fumble our way through cleaning them, taking way too long. But Dot didn’t need any of that. She’d take those rabbits into her kitchen, and in less than ten minutes, she’d have them skinned and gutted right at the sink, with just a little dull knife and her hands. She’d done it so many times that it was second nature—fast, smooth, every motion sure and steady. Watching her work was something to see—no fuss, no mess, just clean, ready rabbits in minutes.

When I went off to college, she’d send little care packages with five or ten dollars (which she really couldn’t afford), a couple of packs of Ramen, and a few commodities she saved for me that she thought I’d like. She was consistent about keeping in touch, and throughout her life, even when she could no longer drive, she made sure she had all her loved ones on her daily call list, calling each of us at least once, if not more, to check in.

After Hurricane Katrina, life changed for Maw Maw Dot as it did for everyone DTR. She lost her home and, like so many others, never made it back. But through it all, Dot stayed the same at heart. More than anything, she loved being with her kids, grandkids, great-grandkids, and even her great-great-grandkids. In the years after the storm, she lived with Jay in Monroe for a while, helping raise Tyler and Allison. Later, she moved in with Avery, sharing her love and care with the next generation—Avery Jr., Gabrielle, Grayson, and even little Annie for a time.

Even in her later years, while living at Riverbend, Dot made sure to give whatever she could to her grandkids and great-grandkids. She spent her time doing crafts, painting or coloring pictures, sending them faithfully through the mail or having them hand-delivered. Her giving spirit never faded, no matter her own circumstances.

Maw Maw Dot never had much by any standard, but what she did have, she shared with a wide-open heart. We all carry a part of her with us—her steady care, her generosity—her spirit embedded in each of us, binding us together and reminding us of the love she gave so freely.