Tag Archives: family

Online Memoir Chapter Eighteen: A sense of Sacrifice and Mission

On April 18, 2024 I woke up at 4:45 to take Abby, our oldest Tsi Tzu. outside to relieve herself. Unfortunately upon coming inside she began to vomit and eventually my wife and I were up together cleaning up dog vomit. Yesterday, I was helping my mother prepare some online orders for a few birthday presents in the family, it took all the time we had till she had an appointment to run off and see my brother in the Behavioral Medicine Clinic. Earlier that day I visited my godfather who seemed to be in very poor health, although we did not really visit because he remained asleep while I was there. Our evening together included a pleasant interlude at a local art gallery and museum exhibiting young artists including the daughter of one of her coworkers.  We followed the visit to the gallery with participating in a rosary at church for three children having open heart surgeries in the coming days. My life today is one in which I am very aware of suffering and in which I expect there to be many troubles around me which I cannot easily address. But in 1978 in Cuernavaca, our family were hoping to start a new phase as Spanish speaking  missionaries in Mexico. We had a kind of optimism. Part of it came from the climate and the place we were in at the time. Weather still affects my mood I suppose.

The springtime weather is pleasant here (and we know in south Louisiana that for many of us Summer will be much harsher) the weather in January 1977 in Cuernavaca was pleasant as well. The Soviet Union had not nearly fallen in those days and Leonid Illich Brezhnev was the General Secretary of the Communist Party and the extremely powerful executive of the USSR  and Alexei Kosygin was the premier of the Soviet Union. There had been a time when the offices were fused but separating them had not greatly liberalized power relations. There was a Ukrainian- American at IDEAL studying with us who was very eager to oppose the Soviet backed communist machinations in Latin America. But he made it clear that he did not  believe anti-communism was his primary motivation. He was anti-Russian every bit as much as Anti-communist. His family had a Ukrainian RIte Catholic branch and a Ukrainian Orthodox  Branchand according to him, both sides had been persecuted horribly by Russian backed political figures and thugs and the Russian Orthodox  Church.  I was rather an admirer of Russian art and culture. It was not easy to hear what he said then. But today it seems more meaningful.  

On April 17, 2024 my brother with Prader-Wili Syndrome  was admitted to a  Behavioral Medicine Clinic. I feel sad about that and I remember the year and half during the COVID-19 pandemic health and labor crisis when I worked as his caregiver. It made a lot of difference to me, to see him as a member of a health club with a pool. Itmeant something to me to see him going to museums, visiting parks and historical sites and doing things like art class. But this is a different time. Of course on Holy Thursday he did have his feet washed at church and that was very cool. I look at his life and mine and I think of all that is changeable over the course of my life.      

April 16, 2024 was a day to try to make the best of some good things in the world we live in and the lives we lead in it. It was a day to hear that my mother and my brother who was born with Prader-WIli Syndrome were having a problem that was going to involve the police. I was also very busy at some levels and yet between two insurance training meetings online, cooking two meals with enough leftovers to share for at least a few days. I think of SImon’s mutation and its consequences as do the Fabry mutations of my nephews, the spina bifida issues of my aunt,   the mosaic Fabry of my father, the cystic fibrosis of my niece, the varied freakish conditions that my grandmother concealed from all but a very few. It is through the lens of my own family experience that I see some of the experiences in this memoir that are hardest to process and believe. I am pretty sure that I also am different than other people. We are all different. Clara and I watched X-Men First Class on April 16. Movies about mutants with special powers would not be as popular as they are. People are aware that there are secret differences between their won inner lives and the world around them. I believe that is the human condition, But I also believe that I am more different than most.    

On April 15, 2024 it was tax day in the United States of America. My wife Clara is an inactive CPA and the former comptroller of a large law enforcement institution. We filed our tax returns  early and got our refunds, that was great.Today my mother treated Clara and I , her new companion Donald and her brother Bruce’s widow out for dinner at Richard’s Seafood Patio. It is an old association or connection for each of us to our past to eat there. It was the first time Doanld and Ihad ever really conversed, although I think we had spoken before. My mother had a large bruise on her face which she covered in makeup. She said she fell and hit her face on the floor. I know she has had a number of falls and injuries. I hope that she is simply falling, because although that is upsetting, most other possible causes are more upsetting. She paid with the proceeds of the only  oil and gas check she ever gets, we all ate for about as much money as the Social Security awards for a death benefit on a fully vested person. I wonder how much we paid for a month of room and board ( we did get most of our board there) at the house across the street from IDEAL. I very much doubt that it cost the four of us more than the figure on the tab for dinner tonight. Much of that  financial contrast is related to the inflation of the US currency over the years. However, a great deal of the difference is also attributable to the fact that Mom had a lot more money on this recent Monday evening than she would have had in any account under her name at the time we were in Cuernavaca in 1977 or 1978. Times and circumstances change. They change in both big and small ways and both very quickly and gradually over time. We are all living in a series of changes that distance each of  us from the events that we remember.   In my current project I am trying to communicate to a theoretical reader the memories and remembered events that seem alien even to me.   

One day in Cuernavaca, we were in a more or less optimistic  mood as a small family processing the news that the church authorities had agreed it would be good for us to work with a recognized lay evangelist, WIll Rodriguez. This long commissioned lay evangelist would help facilitate us starting a family base of ministry. Mom and Dad were eager to speak in terms of “we” including me in those days. It was always important to them that I was buying in and they were not responsible for missing out on my education. They coached me to say that I was homeschooled when it suited them,  they said “The Lord is educating our son”  when that suited them. Each of these  presentations of my situation was a part of the truth.

Another part of the truth was that (although there had been no other people under age in the classes at IDEAL) I had been involved in school related activities about 11 hours a day, not counting the pottery class I took and other enrichment activities. It was the most intense educational experience in an institution that I had ever known. I made very good progress and a whole new world was opening up before me. This was a world of speaking Spanish, eating and understanding a breath of Mexican cuisine and being able to converse about the arts and crafts of Mexico.   I could see from my rich educational experience in a real school that had just ended, that in practice my parents  were still providing real opportunities for my education. However, I knew that I was not likely to be happy in school. I knew my parents resented me in a way that most parents did not, but I knew they loved me too. I also knew that parents around the world sold their children into slavery, killed them, pimped them out and beat or crippled them to make them beggars. People avoided pregnancy, had abortions, committed infanticide, abandoned their infants and placed children up for adoption and into the foster care system. It was known to me that regents had killed the heirs apparent they were to guard in wealthy dynasties.  I also knew that families starved their children to death in slums because they felt too powerless to act on their behalf any longer. I was not one who compared my parents and their behavior only to the television fare of the 1950s or the family comedies that were to follow.They were not necessarily better or worse than the parents in Ozzie and Harriet, Father Knows Best, The Brady Bunch, The Partridge Family  or even the more complex and exotic portrayals in films such as The Sound of Music or It’s A Wonderful Life. I saw my parents as I saw lots of other parents, it was my primary objective to maximize the good they could do for me and themselves and minimize the harm. I was also very much inclined to believe they would do a lot of good and create a lot of opportunities for good for all of us if they did not get all or some of us killed. But I did worry that they did not see the risks I saw, at least they did not see them at all in the same way. I already had a sense at the age of 13 that cataclysms swept over huge numbers of people on rare occasions. Wars, plagues, depressions and natural disasters hit millions unexpectedly. Many of these people did not seem to process whatever the horrors and dangers of their daily lives and the daily lives of their society might be. For many people  when they were caught up in a once in a lifetime tragedy, life seemed something like a fabric of  good and definitely reasonably normal circumstances,  so when very bad things happened to their whole society and environment it was almost incomprehensible. There were others who were prophets in the wilderness, survivalists, hermits, recluses and perpetual fugitives – for these kinds of people the world was always dangerously and tragically flawed and often evil. A third kind of people were adventurers who flirted repeatedly with dangers of all kinds. I saw in our family an unusual mix of all three perspectives on how the outside world interacted with our family.

But whatever we did expect on that January morning in Cuernavaca we did not expect the news that would come about my uncle Jed when we were only a very long day’s journey away if we really tried to return to Louisiana for a family emergency. We felt in  Tonga that we could not go home for crises in the extended  family. But we had not really considered ourselves to be far from home in central Mexico. That sense of distance  was about to change..   

I am 59 years old and getting closer and closer to the end of my life’s journey than the start of it by any reasonable  calculation. The probabilities of me living to 118 are very minute. According to some actuarial tables and life expectancy calculators I should live to just over 80 on the very course calculator of being a male U.S. resident who is currently 50 years old in 20224.  Life is uncertain, so is the time of death. But we can all pick some future date at which we are fairly certain that we will not be alive. To believe in an afterlife is still to know that whatever it is, it is not this life. Death remains a painful farewell, the dissolution of the bonds that make up the body that whatever else we are may animate. Just before we left Cuernavaca it seemed that death might be coming for my uncle Jed who had gone with us to Europe and lived with us in our London flat when school was not in session. At that time, Jed Gerard Gremillion was 23 or 24 years old. Jed was very much in the prime of his life and making great strides, his parents had both attended the university but not finished. His oldest sister and oldest brother had both attended and not finished a degree (Mom would later finish hers). But Jed had graduated from LSU and was enrolled in Loyola Law School. He had gone quickly through a challenging undergraduate curriculum and married a very appealing young woman who got her degree from Saint Mary’s Dominican College in New Orleans, where my wife Clara got her degree. 

   . 

It turned out that I was never going to be able to sit back in the glow of secure success and reflect on all of my path through life. I have much to be grateful for but also a great deal of remembered pain to resolve. In this memoir, I will cross borders between many perceptions. In 1978 there were still many people in Mexico who believed an unidentified flying object that could not be readily explained  had caused a plane to crash in Zacatecas in 1974. On June 7, 1976 there had been a major earthquake in Mexico CIty; a 6.4 magnitude quake. It was still much talked about. The mess of details that  get turned over and twisted over the years are numerous indeed. Only those families who truly have a chronicler for each minute can avoid any confusion. We had a mix of publicity and obscurity over the years. There was so much change that I must struggle to sequence all my memories. 

When one adds to the complexity of the task and entire lack of interest in my own life it seems absurd to write a memoir. But there are no outcomes for the future which do not involve me  speculating as to the future as we live out the present in a world of change.       

On April 15, 2024 Donald Trump began his trial as to whether or not he committed campaign finance crimes when he had Michael Cohen pay porn star Stormy Daniel a large sum of money to keep silent about her sexual involvement with Donald Trump.  I was not sure if this trial would start before the election. It reminded me of the role that sex plays in politics. I think it is interesting to  consider who Stormy Daniels is: 

Stephanie A. Gregory Clifford (born Stephanie A. Gregory; March 17, 1979), known professionally as Stormy Daniels,[7][8] is an American pornographic film actress, director and former stripper. She has won many industry awards and is a member of the NightMoves Hall of Fame, AVN Hall of Fame and XRCO Hall of Fame. In 2009, a recruitment effort led her to consider challenging incumbent David Vitter in the 2010 Senate election in her native Louisiana.

Daniels became involved in a legal dispute with U.S. president Donald Trump in 2018. Trump’s attorney Michael Cohen paid $130,000 in hush money to silence her about an affair she says she had with Trump in 2006. Trump has denied the affair and accused her of lying. The trial against Donald Trump is set for April 15, 2024.

Early life

Daniels’s parents, Sheila and Bill Gregory, divorced about three or four years after she was born. She was then raised by her mother.[1][9]

She graduated from Scotlandville Magnet High School in Baton Rouge, Louisiana in 1997 and considered becoming a journalist.[1]

Daniels said she “came from an average, lower-income household… there [were] days without electricity”,[10] and she has described herself as coming from a “really bad neighborhood.”[1] During high school, Daniels had a job answering phones at a riding stable.[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stormy_Daniels (as of April 14, 2024 at 5:30 p.m. CDT)

Stormy Daniels is one example of many sexual partners of the powerful who have become involved in the machinations of power themselves. There are other sides to the questions of sex and power and its permutations.   

The love of brothers and sisters is something I have had time and opportunity to reflect upon. My sister Sarah was my only sibling in January of 1978. But what exact day that changed I  don’t know. My next sister Susanna Maria Summers was to be born on the 20th day of September 1978. That was the ninth month. She was to be conceived in a time when my mother’s love for her youngest brother ( her godchild)  was much on her mind. Sometime in January we were called to the school for a telephone call. We no longer attended as students but there were quite a number of students who did business at this school in various ways when they were transitioning out of the city to their next location. There were a number of other language schools in town. Teaching and learning conversational Spanish was a  sort of local industry. I felt the transition from a town much defined by learning and culture towards a neighborhood that was known for need in a vast city known for almost everything.  But that was not the pattern to take our attention that day as we woke in the Cuernavaca we were soon to leave. I was very much surprised when we were told there was a phone call waiting for us in the school and I went to answer it with Dad.  We went into the main  office and they were holding the line for us. I let Dad greet him first and instantly could see that all was not well. My Dad was asking questions about the health and status of my uncle Jed in the hospital. It was a difficult time but I did manage to get a few words back and forth with my mother’s oldest brother Bruce. “Please tell everyone we are praying!” I spoke with tears in my eyes and a trembling voice. Jed and I had traveled in the back seat of a Volvo across much of  Europe and    

I wrote the main draft of this chapter during the week starting on  April 14, 2024. That day was a Sunday which began with Clara and I having been to mass the previous evening. I made coffee, had cereal for breakfast and was devoted to doing a few other things when Clara woke and we visited a bit in front of the television and the Sunday morning news. Clara was using some of her professional skills to help some of her friends. She was very much prepared  for the task, her laptop and software had been updating and loading up since before we went to bed the night before. When she set about doing her work for them I started cutting, grass, weeding, cleaning equipment and fixing a gap in the fence. It was an ordinary day and a good one. We have had many good and ordinary days, considering that we have only had a little over a thousand days together as any kind of couple…       

We were looking forward to moving to the Colonias of Mexico City  for many reasons and had begun to actually prepare to leave Cuernavaca. It did not take long to prepare our little footloose family to leave some we would not have been in Cuernavaca many more days. The previous day I had walked to meet the man who had been my sometimes benefactor at a small park. There were two men there with him. He spoke of the history of the region; he seemed to trace both pre columbian indigenous and Spanish Imperial roots of the culture and people with some specificity. The two men spoke in Spanish and perhaps in Nahuat as well but I understood little.  Tried hard to understand. They anointed my hands and head with a strange oil. Then we said the Lord’s Prayer in Spanish that I knew only well enough to say slowly. The man said to me,mostly in English; “You told me the story of  your father anointing you and the healing you received. I know that you have been sick and perhaps this shall give you strength. However, I will tell you that I have asked them to anoint you because  I believe that it is your destiny to be anointed again and if that happens you may remember this place in peace and goodwill.” He then asked me to keep this a secret for a time and a season and I did. I went back to the house and early that evening  I  went to sleep and soon I was dreaming of the whole past day.  The next day would be a day of trial and I woke up sensing that there would be many trials ahead if I lived for whatever was to be  my destiny. I did, however, wonder if I would be living to adulthood. I had many reasons for worry that have not made an appearance in this memoir.   But at the start of the day that we went to the school to get the club I had put strange hopes, strange worries and other distractions out of my mind. 

MY Uncle Bruce’s call had to be communicated to my mother. Seha and I both wanted to go back to Abbeville. Surely we were at a break in things and this happened and the family needed prayer and support. Dad felt we should go on to the ministry in the Cuchilla del Tesoro. There was an emotional struggle and some tears but ultimately we did what most people would do and did not uproot the whole family because the mother’s married adult brother was ill, The thing that made it different was that we were so mobile and so rootless. We prayed and we believed in offering up suffering and we offered up our lonesomeness for Jed as a prayer for his healing. Jed made a remarkable recovery and would go on to have a healthy enough brain to graduate from Loyola Law  School having made Law Review – a great distinction, He is still working and making money was a  land man, although he left the practice of law. He and Susan are long divorced and married other people but both are people of faith who remember God caring for them at this time. 

It was the sacrifice of not being with Jed that defined our transition back to Mexico CIty, There were no dumps or extreme squalor in our neighborhood. Cuchilla had many stores, shops, small artisans and food carts. Schools and churches were around and could be crowded. I took classes at the church when they were open but neve enrolled in a school. Kids were on different schedules because many schools had an early platoon and a late platoon of students. That made it very hard to notice that I was not in school. It wa sin this context that I and the family began to settle into the big city for a while.

Chapter Fifteen of Online Memoir: A summer of Redemption

This chapter is primarily about the days between April 4th and  September 1 1977. That was a summer after my seventh grade year, having found my way back to the life of my class in my old school of Mount Carmel Elementary – from my not-quite-girlfriend’s birthday to the days when I was settling into eighth grade. 

I was writing the main draft of this chapter on the days of the second week of the Catholic Easter Season. One of these days was special because there was a solar eclipse with a path of totality across the middle of the United States. Clara and I thought about going to Dallas where I have a sister and she has a brother and we both have friends. But we could not make it work. So we held hands and looked through eclipse glasses that came with two Black Out Slushes from Sonic. We really enjoy Sonic Diet Cherry Limeades and so it is cool to have a pair of Sonic branded mementoes of this occasion. If God wanted to send a special message to the people of this planet, the total eclipse would be a good way to do it. For the magnificent life giving sun has is four hundred times larger than the Moon and is also 400 times as far away. That is a sort of permanent miracle. The partial eclipses Clara and I saw might likely be seen on any planet that has eyes to see and a moon but the total eclipse is something else. We were able to feel the temperature drop a bit and when we got close to our most intense eclipse of 90% of the sun blocked by the Moon – the streetlights in Abbeville were triggered because their photo sensors were  able to detect nightfall. I was joyful and blessed to be with the woman I love. Joyously we were  making memories almost three years after we met up again after not seeing each other for  forty-five years. I wondered, as I often have since we got together, if things might have been different for both of us if we had gone to high school together. I don’t know but It doesn’t seem likely we would have found a way into a relationship as high school sweethearts because I was so  far from comfortable and so close to high school. I feel sad that I did not become part of her story in that way but I was just really trying to survive at the school we both attended last time we  were in school together.

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On April 10, 2021 I saw Clara Duhon for the first time in 45 years. I had a lot of strong positive memories of her from the otherwise very unhappy middle school years, even though we were not close at that time. I got her number after we flirted somewhat inappropriately while helping my best friend in town and her best friend in town (who are brother and sister) to plan their father’s funeral. Jude and Jackie were supportive friends in our early relationship. We are still good friends, Jackie was in that same middle school class. Clara and I got engaged on December 10. 2021. We got married on November 19, 2022. There were really no times before running into her that I thought I would end up married to one of my classmates from Mount Carmel Elementary School.  

Abbeville is the town Clara and I  would both claim as our hometown. Our hometown was built and planned by a priest named  Pere Antoine Desire Megret bought the land for the town (160 arpents ) from my ancestors  Joseph Leblanc and Isabelle Broussard on July 25, 1843.The couple seems to have had three houses and the house on the land he bought was used as the first St.Mary Magdalen Parish  Church at the heart of the town he called La Chapelle. He had many practical aspects of the city plan he created with principles of gravity for future plumbing, social cohesion, convenient transit and raising money with subdivisions and creating a rational administrative and taxable geography. That was the part of him that was part of the life of the progressive journalist he had been in France when the newspaper he was associated with fell afoul of the powerful of the Catholic Church.But the part that came from the devout priest and fervent missionary that he still was is apparent in the names he chose for the streets. The central artery of the town’s original plan is Charity Street (Rue de la Charité ) which is named for the greatest Christian virtue. This mainstreet of our town was sort of separated from the Styx by one and a half blocks  of a more respectable neighborhood. Some very fine homes (by Abbeville standards stood along the street along with banks and large stores on the main street called Charity. My great grandmother’s house and her complex of garden, studio, apartments and rental houses was in that band between the Styx and Charity Street. Clara grew up on the other side of Charity in what was mostly white,mostly working class and lower middle class neighborhood. Her family had land in the country too but not much and around their house thay had a lot with a garden, a few fig, pear and shade trees. All the four children went to Mount Carmel Elementary and Vermilion Catholic High School. All four got university degrees two of them earned more than one degree. Whether we could have been friends outside of school when were really young I do not know. But we never achieved that status. She never had people throw birthday parties for her as a child and did not come to my swimming birthday parties when I invited the whole class because she did not know how to swim. 

When one lives in a small town there are lots of things that have a special meaning invisible to outsiders. Whether in the hit song “Small Town” by John Cougar Mellencamp or in te name of the Country band Little Big Town one finds that lots of Americans have  had a small town identity all during my lifetime. In small towns we all have our inner maps of what that town’s sites and landmarks mean just as big city dwellers and the true denizens of the country and wilderness weave their identities into the marks on their own home landscape. Life is lived out on a map of shared values and another map of personal meaning is imposed upon it.  For me part of that meaning which illustrates the mental complexity of what is in many ways a simple town, there is the story of El Camino. El Camino’s name caught my eye when it opened. Camino is just an older Spanish word for road and there are many roads named caminos around the Spanish Speaking World. A Camino Real is a royal road and a current hotel chain,big in Mexico when I was young. These were the best roads of the Spanish Empire as well. In the English Bibles we translate Jesus’ words, “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life.” Way there means road not method, as in the Appian Way in Italy and a very few other road names compared to the ones named road or highway or route.  The first El Camino restaurant in Abbeville was founded in the building that had once housed the well known Midway Restaurant where Concord Street (Rue de La Concorde) reaches the streets around the town square that is the middle square on the original city plan between the Vermilion Parish Courthouse Square and the Church Square, that has been occupied by the Church and its other buildings for along time. The Mexican restaurant with some Cajun and standard American accents was originally founded by a family with toots in the AMerican State of Michigan and the Mexican state of Michoacan. My cousin Joshua Broussard whom I have mentioned in this memoir  and my ex wife both waited on tables at that place. The building has been through quite a few owners since and it is now used by Tito’s La Casa owned by another out of towner from far away. Clara and I have eaten there and we had lunch there with my mother just a couple of weeks ago. Rue del Concorde symbolizes the peace between the State represented by the Courthouse and the town square and church representing the people beyond their role in the state – under the meaning of Megret’s plan.  It is the same plan line as Charity Street. The central artery line as Charity Street runs to the Courthouse square which is almost entirely occupied by the massive courthouse since the current A Hays Towne designed building was built on the square Megret designed. The bulk of the town is built off of Charity Street heading East toward the town of Erath and most of the town runs off those  streets that intersect with Charity. Then the Concord Street section runs one block to the town square. The last block of that line runs to the bridge over the river by passing in front of the church. So the Church Square is on a different line. That last block is Pere Megret Street now but originally was bounced between two other names and a continuation of the Concord Street name. In modern automotive times a bypass highway was built from a new bridge over the Vermilion River to the highway leading to Erath. One of the businesses to build on the Bypass was the Pitt Stop. The chain of locations typically had two elements: a Pitt Stop gas station and 24 hour convenience store and a Pitt Grill which was a 24 hour diner. Both businesses or gone now, but the Grill went first, it became a pool hall and then  was sold to El Camino which relocated there largely in search of better visibility and parking, although both spots are visible and have parking. The original family sold El Camino to the Friths whom I have done business with all my life including at the old incarnation of  Mickey’s. Drive Inn and at other eateries thay own. Trent Frith played football with my cousins, one of whom was one of two priests to witness Clara and  I being wed in the ceremony they concelebrated at St. Mary Magdalen. All of that connection to small town history is different from connecting to landmarks in a city that everyone knows from movies and TV. This is my world. But the reason that El Camino’s name always caught my notice is because the restaurant came to town after I had lived with my family in El Camino community in Colombia, South America. That is a connection that I am going to begin to develop in this chapter about the summer of 1977. That will follow one more connection with the Abbeville  El Camino. 

On March 6, 2024 after the Anticipated Mass for Divine Mercy Sunday at St. Mary Magdalen Church, my mother took Clara and I and my brother Simon out to eat at El Camino Restaurant. I believe that we all enjoyed the meal together. My father died on September 11, 2022 and thus missed my wedding to Clara on November 19, 2022. This week she has started having official and formal dates with a man that she was friends with many decades ago when the man who took her dancing was married to a woman who worked in my father’s office when he was the Assistant District Attorney. As couples they once moved in the same crowd.

“So how did it go?” I asked over the hot Queso  Camino as I indulged in holding Clara’s hand at various moments. “You told me, when we spoke yesterday on the phone, that you had a date yesterday evening.”
“Well I suppose it was a date. D_______ invited me to go and hear the live music and dance with him at Kelvin’s. He picked me up at five o’clock but the band did not actually start until eight o’clock and he goes to sleep at eight o’clock. “ She played with her expression very well, leaving it to us to see how she might feel about all this before she continued. “ It worked out well. We simply talked with each other for about an hour and a half. He seemed to need the time for us to converse alone because he seems intimidated by me.”

“Have you known each other a long time?” Clara asked.

“You mean D____, has he known me long before this?” My mother asked her.

“Yes.” Clara affirmed that was what she meant.

“Yes D______ and his wife E_________ as well as Louise and Albert, I______ and C______ and Frank and I were all in the same crowd years ago. But we have never spoken much since I became a missionary.”
“So, he was intimidated because he knows who you really are.” Clara explained her line of conversation.

“Intimidated by me? Why?”My mother queried.

“Because you have lived a big life.” Clara asserted.      

“I have lived a big life” My mother agreed.

I have maintained a pretty close relationship with my mother, even though there have been plenty of times of strain and sorrow. Mostly we have enjoyed each other’s company, but there have been days and weeks when there was nothing easy about it. That allows for some standard by which to assess the text I cite below.  In my mother’s second book about our lives, published in 2012 she writes:

 “Beau entered Mount Carmel Elementary in Seventh Grade. Beau was persecuted at school. The other kids teased him for professing boldly that he believed in Jesus. Recently visited with a woman who was a year behind Beau in school. Tears streamed down my face as she related the suffering he had endured from those who teased him at Mount Carmel Elementary. Part of his difficulty stemmed from changing his position as one  of the more financially and socially privileged to one of the least privileged and the poorest. – a hard transition in a small community.”(Summers, Acts page 14).

This was the experience I spelled out in my last chapter.  I had a life outside of school, but that next summer I would see that there were a lot of pressures in that life that were in conflict with one another as well. I was going to begin to feel more than before that there might not be much hope of me rising above a state of crisis. I was starting to see that I was feeling checkmated in all directions and I certainly knew a good number of people in the Styx who lived lives of very little hope. But there was a government housing project subsidized  for “the poor on one edge of the Styx, that was also not the styx. Rabbit Hill was a poorer and more troubled neighborhood. Mostly the only  people “on the dole’ in a big way in The Styx  were the increasing number of mentally ill people who were no longer in institutions or groups homes. They came to the neighborhood for low rents, to access the charity of bread and some soup at the Christian Service Center, The St. VIncent De Paul Center (eventually) absorbed by the Christian Service Center and the charitable kitchen at Open Door Community. Some were “shell shocked” veterans with PTSD and honorable discharges, other mentally ill people were hard working oilfield folks who had sustained head injuries. The neighborhood had a city councilman who made the papers and got things done. Prostitutes and pot dealers provided services people wanted and got paid for them. People operated stores of various kinds without signage or licenses but sold real good at reasonable prices from veggies, to auto parts to desserts. A few people rented rooms and some repaired motors or tools. A few had significant gardens and one had a large and substantial lily farm on several lots because Abbeville was not zoned. Gangsters were generally under a truce in The Styx in those days. They went out of the neighborhood to fight. My not- quite- girlfriend’s grandmother being beaten almost to death was not typical. It shocked the baddest  men I knew. “Whores” sometimes escaped from the lock down brothels outside the neighborhood and sometimes found shelter under local pimps who helped them find their way to better places and sometimes got bus tickets, modest clothes and a Bible from religious workers. The Christian Service center helped people fill out forms for Medicaid, for Food Stamps, for job applications, for legal aid and for lots of other things but only if people asked. Otherwise it tended to fit the profile of the neighborhood. Privacy, private charity and private enterprise  providing short or long term jobs were the norm. My girlfriend lived near the Christian Service Center as well and I gave her a nice present on her April 4th birthday. She had plan with girls and was turning fourteen and a boyfriend not yet 13 was not very cool. But we still were not dating anyone else and we still were trying to see if we could figure it all out. I was trying to finish the school year and so was she at her school and we both did…              

When the seventh grade year ended we celebrated Sarah’s first birthday and I was working enough to get her a present but also  volunteering a good bit at the Christian Service Center. In addition, my little group of guys started to get lawns referred to us by the Christian Service Center people who would pay our lower rates but could not afford the normal rate. I bought a second mower and a retiree gave us a third for four good mowings and trims. We learned to tug the mowers behind our bikes and on far more distant trips we hired a young man who had just finished high school  and owned a very battered pickup truck. WHen he worked he dropped off a load of boys a mower, a trimmer and a bike. Then he came back and picked up the other kid and two mowers. He manned the other mower and they had a trimmer. I paid him double what the other kids got. I started bringing home food for the family and gifts for the community. I treated my little not-quite-girlfriend to treats and bought Sarah a nice birthday present. I saved what I could. We still had the lawns from our list the last few months who were mostly connections from the days when Mom and DId had lived in the more prosperous part of town.

My birthday was on June 15 as it is every year. I had a number of different celebrations. My parents helped to put on a swimming party far my friends at my mother’s parents’s pool. I did not  invite friends from school but from the neighborhood mostly with perhaps one or two exceptions. Totally out of character for everything, in almost every way, my Dad’s mother took me and my not-quite-girlfriend to dinner together. We rode back to our neighborhood in the back of my grandmother’s luxury car. “Thank You Gammy!” I said. Somehow. I knew that if things went a certain way, I could end up falling in love with my almost 14 year old girlfriend, losing my virginity to her and marrying her. But I also knew that there were many reasons why that might not happen. I was careful to try to support my parent’s ministry and community ties, I was careful to flatter them as well and in addition I truly believed in many of their ideal and values and I definitely believed in Jesus. But I was also very much trying to make some money, woo a girl while I was thirteen and find some way to matter in the community. My girlfriend and I barely kissed after that dinner and it would be one of the very last times we had any uncomplicated affection. But we have mutually acknowledged memories, that is different than some women I have since known with whom there is no recognition of any connection. 

Not long after my birthday, I was trying to spend more time with the volunteers at the service center. I tried to combine unpaid prayer and service with the opportunities to acquire new lawns for my group which somehow seemed to happen. I felt that Dad had mixed feelings about my little business. “Praise God! I am glad that you are doing these things, I heard from Pres that there is a chance for you to cut at the family law office.” 

“That suits me.” I answered, “We have two lawns in the same neighborhood. I will call him shortly. ”
“Great but what will you do if we go on a trip this summer?” Dad asked.

“I have arrangements with Donald to lead the group. I have left a little money in advance at the repair and sharpening shop. He will set aside three dollars a lean as my cut. But of course it is a problem. I hope to get back in time to solve. If we are going back overseas then I might be able to accept that more easily. You know that I am not very happy at school. But I am trying.”

“Mom and I got a letter from Father Jim Mitchell that we wrote to at El Camino community in Columbia. You can read the letter when we get home and we will talk about it . But he is going to be in Ann Arbor and we are thinking of going back to the Word of God Community to see him when he arrives there.”

“It will be hard to risk a lot on the changes but I do like traveling and I would feel like we were living as missionaries if we went to live and work in Columbia. I find it hard to explain to people that we are missionaries who were called by God to be missionaries and we live here in our hometown.” .  .  

That conversation was unusually candid and honest on my part. Soon we were with Mom and little Sarah playing and talking about the trip. I suggested that we might borrow Gammie and Papa’s old farm truck. Mom suggested that we borrow the truck bed top camper shell from her parents that was just sitting abandoned outside. The trip was now a camping trip and somehow we still had some camping supplies that had survived some out dispossessions and we bought more supplies. We got in touch with my aunt Susan who had wanted us to visit her at her newish home in Truckee, California. We planned a trip to visit the old friends and ministries we had left behind in El Paso, A group of El Paso friends who had moved to Phoenix, a mission organization we had corresponded with in Oxnard, California and along the way to see national and state parks, this would bring us to Truckee for a long visit. Then we would similarly camp and drive to reach Ann Arbor, Michigan. After that we would visit Jim and Kathy in Brown’s Cove and Charlottesville, VIrginia. We might if we did that stop by Augusta Georgia and then come back home. We would cover most of the outer tiers of states if this was actually to be our route. I felt bad leaving my lawns and potential girlfriend, but I did feel an attraction to the romance of the road and the possible life in the missions in Columbia made more sense to me than our life in Abbeville.It was clear to me that I was going to struggle with a lot of different issues. But a lot of them would have to with money.  I could put those worries on hold in the missions.

.  .       .  

I was a teenager now, that was the term that had so much meaning in the United States of America. I knew  that losing the cutting season of the summer would be a big setback in income, but I also knew that it could be more time to bond with Mom and Sarah. I had not been seeing them as much lately and I was very busy in ways that were not going to solve all our problems. I found the time I spent at the Christian Service Center rewarding, I hoped to see a more intense  relationship with my girlfriend and  I liked hanging with my guys as we cut grass. But I knew that I was a traveler and a missionary or else I was a confused kid fighting an impossible battle to find a place to be.someone I could feel comfortable with at all levels. . 

The values of The Styx are not the only values that I bring with me. But when I think of AMerica and what it is and what it is not I think of that neighborhood often. I sense it was closer to the essence of America than many other places. I leave this thought as  grounds for my own sense of why my time there mattered as much as it did. 

“Yet, rather than regarding this diversity as grounds for despair, Madison took it as a source of his new republicanism. The task of government, he maintained, should not be to eliminate the causes of faction, as the ancient writers had argued, so much as to control their effects. The most obvious of these effects was diversity in property. A primary task of statesmanship in the modern commercial republic, then, would  not be to impose equality of property, but to manage the differences between their different kinds.(Steven B.Smith “Learning from Publius”; National Affairs; number 54, winter 2023:page 99

So it was with a troubled goodbye to my girl and my lawn guys that I set out with my family. “Thank God there is a little window that slides in this truck, we can all talk” I said to Mom as we reached the first stop to eat the meal she cooked up on our Coleman Camping Stove. “This is not very comfortable or elegant but it works a whole lot better than I would expect since the truck never had a camper before according to everyone I asked.”

“Yes, it is nice to camp because the campgrounds are beautiful often and so we pull up and we are in a beautiful place, no matter how we arrive.”.Mom replied.

“ I do love nature.” I assured her.

In El Paso things had changed, we had wonderful visits with friends but I got the impression that The  Lords School might not be reopening the next year. There was a new regime at La Cueva and even Father Rick seemed to find it more awkward to be with us -although we were all still friends..

In Phoenix we met wonderful friends who had moved from El Paso and put us up in some comfort. They were all thrilled to meet Sarah. But there was a definite sense that we were just visiting. It was a common thing in those days in Abbeville and elsewhere that people asked us to pray for the sick. Many reported feeling better and some with desperate prognoses were healed very soon afterwards. We would hear stories about this sort of thing whenever we doubled back to meet people. There were people who faked such things I knew and those which could be easily explained. But this was a constant strand in my life and included my own prayers and a good people over the years from 9 to 22 years of age who told convincing stories that I had been given a gift of healing that God had used to set them right and make them well. It happened frequently in my parents’ ministry as well. My parents had their troubles and it was not always easy to live with the very human struggles they could get into. My mother truly and sincerely wanted to be a good wife and mother and then go to heaven after a long life. But she also wanted to go to heaven tomorrow whenever things got too bad. But I did enjoy bonding more with Mom and Sarah on the trip.

I did emphasize that when I had traveled these roads with Gammie and PauPau we had seen a lot of sites and reminded them of another time we had seen a few. I really wanted to revisit the Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon, the painted Desert, The Petrified Forest and other places I loved. I know we visited a few and I was glad we did. But we passed a lot of great scenery at night partly because it was cooler to drive at night and we had very little air conditioning crossing the Southwest desert in the summer. We prayed with and shared food with a couple of people in the campsites. I began to feel like we were really on the edge of American society and that the religious lunatic fringe that one could find on the highways and campsites had just as many problems as the mainstream. At every site I bought a postcard with my dwindling money and mailed it home to either a grandparent or my girlfriend. I also bought my girlfriend a couple of nice presents.

When we reached the mission organization in Oxnard, I could not believe family I met were supporting missionaries but they were – i knew that to be true. My sense of scandal came not from their sins or behavior being immoral. I was scandalized because they wrapped all their furniture and carpets in plastic except for on special occasions. This was to make things last longer. I couldn’t fit together the openness to people around the world and the same family requiring all the people they actually knew to sit on uncomfortable sheets of cheap plastic to protect their possessions. But despite feeling uncomfortable.  I made pretty good friends with their son. He seemed so relieved that I did not make him feel like his parents were crazy. I felt good about making him feel respected – but I did think his parents might be crazy.

When we got up to Truckee my aunt Susan was working two and a half  part-time jobs, she was a waitress in an omelet restaurant, worked as some kind of clerk in a public utility and helped the mechanics with some things at the municipal airport garage. She had a great middle sized house on the Truckee RIver she was fixing up. We prayed with her friends who were not so religious, she was divorced from Don,  her Mormon husband, they had split up and they had no children to keep them in close contact.. While we were there we went to see him as well and he gave us a tour of a water treatment system he helped to manage. Afterwards we had “a  Catholic and Backsliding  Mormon” prayer meeting according to Don. It was kind of sad, even though I loved hiking around Truckee. While I was there walking I saw one of the men who I had known to be associated with the old traditions in Abbeville and with several lines of  families I was related to on my father’s side, Seeing him at any place other than South Louisiana was a revelation. The old man told me not to talk about him but he talked with me.. He said that he watched  certain people now and then and my Aunt Susan was one of them.  I kept my word and never talked of this encounter for many years. I was feeling like the odds of my life working out well were not good, yet I also truly believed in the power of a spiritual path and the one I was on in life with my parents. 

Our time in Ann Arbor and Word of God Community reunited me with my friends who had cystic fibrosis. Our relationship was complicated by many factors I cannot discuss, comfortably even here. But my parents and I were there mostly because Fr. Jim Mitchell was there from the El Camino community in Colombia. They mostly met with him without me. But by that time I had an interest in the publishing and other businesses being run by the community and I got some great tours of some of those facilities. We also saw Ralph Martin again who was a very important figure in the Catholic Charismatic Renewal. 

We then went down from Ann Arbor to Brown’s Cove and  Charlottesville to visit with Jim and Kathy. They put us up a little while and had a new garden. Jim distinctly remembers Sarah becoming fascinated with the tomatoes – plants and fruit and calling them ‘may-mays” She was a long way short of the two year norm for speaking but like me she was an early talker.  We were not here very long before we were on the way back to Abbeville, to Open Door Community and we were only able to stop in and visit Faith VIllage for a brief visit.

When we got back to Abbeville, I was eager to bring my gifts to my girlfriend. She accepted them graciously but I could see things were never going to be the same. She was going to high school at a big public High School and was likely to make the cheer squad. My lawn business was barely limping along. But I felt like I was back to being someone I recognized. I was the traveler coming home from my travels to Abbeville with my family. Somehow, I would be going back to school as a missionary kid with no immediate plans to go into the missions. But I was hoping to find my way forward.

Chapter Twelve of Online Memoir: Upper Doyle’s to James Rivers and Lower Browns Cove Holler

March 31, 2024 was Easter Sunday. When I worked on this draft for a while on that morning I thought back on the gloriously beautiful Easter Vigil Mass at St. Mary Magdalen that Clara and I attended, along with a mostly full church building. I also remembered the four people received into the Church through the Sacraments of initiation. Often there are Baptisms at Easter VIgil Mass. But because the people entering the Catholic Church in our parish were already all Baptized CHristians there was only a Blessing of the Baptismal waters during that part of the Mass. Then all of them received the second Sacrament of Initiation, Confirmation.  Father Louis laid hands on them and prayed for them to receive the fullness of the Holy Spirit. Then he anointed their heads with oil in the sign of the cross and all were able to applaud.The only Sacrament of Initiation that Catholics repeat is the the third Sacrament of the Eucharist. The newly confirmed Catholic Christians were able to receive Holy Communion “under both species” as we say it, from the cup and the bread. They did this before the rest of the congregation received communion. “This was a beautiful service. I am glad we came early.”  Clara said after the service. 

“I am glad we went too.” I replied, “it means a lot to me.”

“The Triduum takes a lot out of anyone.” Clara began as we drove off in her (or our) blue  Subaru Outback. “But I think it is worth it..”

My Dad is gone for over a year now and my mother will be going to mass on  Easter Sunday morning. That had been their custom in recent years almost without exception. But I remembered the magnificent vigil masses at the Santuario de Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe in Saltillo, Coahuila , Mexico that  Mom and Dad and Sarah and Susanna and I attended. The magnificent blessing of the fire, the spreading of candles lit from the central paschal candle and the reading of all the readings (in Spanish of course)  without using any of the permitted shorter forms – those were all beautiful parts of those liturgies in Mexico. But while those things were less in our parish last night the music was truly beautiful, ending with the Hallelujah Chorus in the choir loft was absolutely splendid.  Clara and I  got a drive through treat from McDonald’s  and then headed back home for me to finish prepping and start roasting the turkey that II had offered to bring to a family Easter gathering. Although there was beauty in the worship service, the season and the Gospel story – there was also a sense of the way my life has shaped up. In the congregation there were many people associated with the Family Missions Company founded by my parents. Some were seated very near to Clara and I in the church. Later on in the family SIgnal chat, my brother Joseph would show pictures of his little family in Indian clothing celebrating Easter in their home in Goa. My sister Sarah showed her family playing in left over snow in Colorado. She is with her husband Kevin and her children with him, her second husband,  Isaac, Isabel, Jonah and Esme were all rejoicing in the snow.

Because I was working on this memoir, my mind turned to a different church experience. Our time attending St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church on the University of Virginia Campus in Charlottesville, Virginia. Halloween 1976, October 31 was the day the time changed back an hour. Mom and Dad and Sarah and I were back in my uncle Jim and aunt Kathy’s house in Brown’s Cove alone after having left for a while to visit Ann Arbor’s Word of God Covenant Community for the first time. But for whatever reason, they were not in their house on the river. The previous night we had dinner at the house of John Finley. John was a Protestant Christian who had given his life to Jesus in a strong personal way and committed himself to serving in his Protestant Christian Church after being led to a conversion experience, through the ministry of the Catholic family (ours) that he picked up as hitchhikers.  We were also distracted by some news that came to us when Mom called her Dad (my Pops) to wish him a happy birthday while we were at John FInley’s house because Jim and Kathy’s remote home did not have a phone 

and there were few cellular phones in those days and although we did not have one, a cell phone would not have worked deep in that “holler” (the word for a hollow in the mountains where a neighborhood of small farms and such has developed).John FInley was one of several exceptional people. Not only did he return to the faith he had growing up in an Evangelical Christian home and make an adult decision to follow Jesus  –  which was huge for us as a family. His parents were administrators for the World Health Organization in Brazil and John had lived in Africa at some point. He was good company and good fellowship for us.

The news was about the starting of what would become Open Door Community in Abbeville. So we had a good bit on our mind. For whatever reason Jim and Kathy were out of the house that night when we got back and we knew we could not borrow the car  or get a ride with them to get to Sunday  mass. We were supposed to set our clocks back that tonight but we put them forward instead. We had to set our alarms early enough to make sure that we could get to church by the unreliable method of hitchhiking. It was slow and dangerous work. Most people did not stop for us. However, we did not set our clocks back, we set them forward. In addition we got a fairly quick ride into town. So we  had most of our half our margin for error when we arrived at church. In addition because we set our clocks forward we were there an hour before the time our Mass would have started the previous weekend. However, we were not living in the previous weekend. We were in the weekend of the time change. The mass was starting an hour later. Therefore we were at the church two and a half hours early. It was very difficult to be there as a little family of four outside the locked church. It was very much a time when I felt afraid for my future.

The low that day in Charlottesville was 42 degrees. SO it was not freezing but it was chilly and would only rise to 54 degrees. The Church where we waited had a striking modern art statue of Saint Thomas Aquinas commissioned in 1967. The Dominican Friars, also known as the Order of Preachers, celebrated their great scholar and theologian in their ministry to the students at the University of Virginia. That statue was what my uncle called the Squatting Robot. We sat under his odd but somehow protective eye in our bizarre penitential isolation. 

While Jim called the statue “Squatting Robot” and the church Squatting Robot Church, it is apparent that some people  at least called it Bumper Buddha. Wat follows is an excerpt from a 2017 article about the statue being moved.   😊

“Drive past St. Thomas Aquinas Church on Alderman Road and you’ll notice something different—a Charlottesville icon has disappeared. The UVA student-dubbed “Bumper Buddha,” a statue of the church’s namesake welded out of chrome car bumpers, was moved to IX Art Park on May 2.

The Reverend William Stickle commissioned the statue from Indiana sculptor Hank Mascotte in 1967.

… 

When asked if IX is going to become home to other homeless statues —an island of misfit toys—Wimer said, “I think it’s a strong possibility as people are shifting monuments around this town. We are happy recipients of all sorts of pieces of art. Please, let the donations begin.”

Like the General Robert E. Lee statue? Wimer laughs. “That would entail some very long discussions.”

 https://www.c-ville.com/bumper-buddhas-big-move . .  . .  

 When Clara and I visited Jim and Kathy the summer before we got married (while we were  on a road trip) we saw the site of the no longer existing Robert E. Lee staue mentioned in the article. That statue had been the site of the Unite The RIght Rally with Louisiana’s David Duke and others arrayed against Antifa and protestors against Confederate Statuary. There was violence and at least one person was killed directly due to the conflict. The Robert E. Lee statue has been melted down to be made into statuary representing African American achievement or CivilRIghts or freedom – I am not sure what the final work was. But in those days Charlottesvill was not famous for that violent rally. Many things have changed since 1976 and some stay the same. One change is that I and almost everyone I deal with have cell or mobile phones of some kind. Jim and I communicate on those phones fairly often, though not as much as a few years ago. 

“Hey Jim, this is Beau. Call me when you can.” That could be any of a number of messages I have left on my Uncle Clay James Summers email in the last few years. “Hey Beau,  I saw you had called and I am trying to chat. I wonder if this is about the thing with your Uncle Pres? Call me when you can and if you don’t I will call you back.” That could be any of a number of call back and resembles even more. ” Hey Jim, this is Beau. I guess we will keep playing phone tag for a while.” I call Clay James Summers my Dad’s brother younger than Pres, and Susan and older than Will and Missy “Jim” not Uncle Jim. I called all my aunts and uncles by their first name when I was very young. I sometimes introduced them as Aunt Missy or Uncle Pres but called them Missy and Pres. Both of my parent were the oldest of their families and the youngest of their siblings were not much older than I. I had no first cousins who could speak until I had been speaking for a long time. In addition I grew up in era of rapidly diminishing formality. For all these reasons I grew up calling all my aunts and uncles by their first names. I had few real playmates in my life as a small child and my youngest aunts and uncles were as close to being my regular playmates as anyone else. It seemed unfair for me to be the only person in my world to call their older brothers and sisters Aunt and Uncle. I am a person inclined to use correct or approximate titles and not no title at all. But as fate would have it I denied these people I cared about a basic title and as I look back no other path ever seemed possible.

In my own daily life, virtually everyone calls me either  Beau, Frank, Mr. Frank or Mr. Summers. One person calls me parrain, (godfather in French)  and a few people call me other things.I have lived places where anyone with a bachelor’s degree is addressed as “Licensiado” by strangers. I have also lived or stayed in places where anyone doing what I did were called “preacher” but that did not happen for me.   The list of times and places where I was not distinguished by a title commonly used is a long list. But perhaps all of these slights are simple justice for my own slighting of Uncle Pres, Aunt Susan, Uncle Jim, Uncle WIll and Aunt Missy on my mother’s side and on my mother’s side Uncle Bruce, Uncle Brian, Uncle Jed and Aunt Rachel. I am including a list of some of my honors in life for a theoretical reader to keep in mind as they read about my time in Brown’s Cove. For the preteen there was the same person who received  those honors in the list starting in 1983.

My Own Honors that are not secret and can be substantiated. 

 2024 Panel Coordinator and Presenter Gulf South History and Humanities Conference, Natchez Mississippi. Topic Roundtable Discussion: Culturally Responsive and Activist Pedagogy Meets Academic History: South Louisiana Cases and Reflections. Panelist with Nicole Guhon-Crowell   

April 20, 2023 received medallion at UL Honors Convocation for Spring 2023.

2022 to 2023 Geaux Teach Scholar

2023 Admitted to Kappa Delta Pi Educational Honors Society

2019  Presenter Panel Louisiana Historical Association Annual Meeting Lafayette Louisiana Corinne Broussard Project on Evangeline Girls with Warren Perrin and Bary Ancelet. 

2017  Presenter Gulf South History and Humanities Conference, Pensacola. Blood Feud: Acadian Ethnicity and the Killing of Huey P. Long. Why Mic Mac genes and arrogance killed the Kingfish

2016 Gulf South History and Humanities Conference, Mobile. Emerging Views: The Reemergence of American Identity in Postwar Acadiana and the SONJ Documentary Projects . 

2012 Grand Prize Winner Lord Norton’s Quiz—House of Lords 

2004 Honored Presenter College Lecture; “The Idea of the University”. SDIBT, College of Foreign Studies. Yantai ,China

1993 first academic publication: Academic Publications:  Historical Journal of Film, Radio and Television; 1993,  Review – FDR’s Moviemaker: Memoirs and Scripts. 

1992 LSU Research Grant – Ekstrom Photographic Archives, University of 

Louisville – Louisville, Kentucky. 

1992 Admitted to Mensa. 

1991-1993 Board of Regents Fellow 

1990 Honorary Lieutenant Governor of Louisiana.

1989 Outstanding Graduate, Alumni Association Honoree, Spring Commencement, USL. 

1989 Outstanding Graduate of the College of Arts, Humanities, USL. 

1989 Outstanding Graduate of the Department of English, USL. 

1987 Admitted to Phi Kappa Phi Honors Society. 

1985 Sophomore Class Award, Franciscan University of Steubenville

1983 first admitted to the Honors Program at USL (now the University of Louisiana at Lafayette).

In addition, because I am not famous or very successful it is not always obvious that in recounting the adversities of my youth in terms of formal education and employment, I was going to at least study and work to some substantial degree later in life. Here are some of the evidences of my success in study later on in life. It was not the case that the kid in Brown’s Cove dropped off the face of the academic world forever. . 

Degrees

Master of Arts, Louisiana State University, August 4, 1993. Cumulative G.P .A. 3.846 

Bachelor of Arts,  University of Southwestern Louisiana, ( now University of Louisiana at Lafayette), May 14, 1989. Cum Laude G.P A.:  3.686 (adjusted down to a 3.54 after decades due to new rules)

Teaching certification:  UL Post-baccalaureate  Alternative Certification. I completed courses in Teaching in a Diverse Society, Diverse Families, Secondary Social Studies Methods, Technology in Education and Teaching Literacy in the Content Areas, Foundations of Inclusion in Education and  a course on Classroom assessment. I only lacked the course in Classroom  management and the internship credits to compele the alternative certification. At this point I don’t see ever completing it. But I was a certified teacher under a practitioner’s license and I still am so licensed at the moment of preparing this chapter.  . 

Licenses and Certificates

Insurance Producer at the time of writing the main draft of this chapter I am appointed as a Career Agent with Physicians Mutual, Physicians Life and Physicians Mutual Select.  

Restricted Radiotelephone Operator; Federal Communications Commission, January 31, 1986

Lay Evangelist, Diocese of Lafayette, Commissioned August 10, 1980.

Scriptural Exegete, 1982, Scripture Ventures Program, East Asian Pastoral Institute.

Catechist, Diocese of Lafayette, Certified February 23, 1991.

Catechist, Diocese of Baton Rouge, Certified March 29, 1993.

 In 1976 we were leaving Augusta and  coming into the school year and I had no prospects of going to school. We were leaving Alleluia Community as the kids were going back to their varied schools. WE were getting on a bus and headed to visit Jim and Kathy. They were, among other things, far enough out in the country that I would not be in the view of any truant officers and my parents could avoid responsibility for not doing anything to secure any accredited or formal education for me in the next starting year. SInce Tonga Side School I had a bit of study on Clavert’s Correspondence Course without the actual correspondence and some study in an accredited school. ALthough our ratio of teachers with some education training to students may have been among the highest in the world at the Lord’s School it had not been a fully accredited institution.  l realized  (although I never really verified whether the realization was fact or rumor) that some families involved in the experimental school were hedging their bets in trusting  the experimental school.  I heard from seemingly reliable sources towards the end of my time there that the millionaires in the group of parents had an hour each day for their kids with an additional tutor to make sure their children’s education met state standards. It was still a good school I had no doubt but I was aware that there was a juncture in the coming fall, I was moving into a new period of being out of school. I felt that the world was a dangerous place for me whether I tried to go to school or whetherI stayed out of it. I simultaneously believed my parents were dangerously skidding off the social rails and that they were doing a beautiful and inspired thing for the glory of God. I was not sure that they would do it well or that I would live to be an adult. I did feel a desire to support and protect Sarah in her start in life. My parents seemed different from one another. Each had their saintliness and their darkside in my eyes.  It seemed to me that I could have honestly said they were bravely united in a holy adventure in a world that was in many ways a real mess and also that they were both struggling against each other’s best interest in destructive ways that I had to watch when I was with them so much. I could honestly say there was a beauty and richness in the life of travel, opportunism, ministry and family togetherness and that there was something dangerous and destructive about Dad not working for a living and me being out of school. 

My uncle Jim picked us up at the bus station. We were four people  and some luggage. My Dad had started receiving a small share of his family’s oil and gas money in monthly checks. He had the four of us to support and there was no way the small check could do that in the United States. Jim got the same size check. But he and Kathy both worked and although Jim’s career was not making him rich nor satisfying him entirely he and Dad were both graduates of Tulane Law School. Jim was doing legal research mostly and he and Kathy had the feeling of a little comfort in their lives. All of this was evident  in snippets of conversation. But we were happy to house sit for them. No rent for us and security without a deposit or paying anyone for them. But before house sitting, we would visit for a week. I really liked Jim and Kathy. Jim had broken my arm in horseplay when I was young and for that and many other reasons I was reluctant to fully trust him. However I did like them and admired their own irreligious efforts to find a new path forward in the world. They were the hippest people in our family. .They had at one time cared about environmentalism when I was serving at the altar boy in the Earth Day Bayou Blessing and was a budding ecologist. My mother had supported the first African American woman for Mayor of Abbeville and they seemed sympathetic. They had spent their own money and time  on travel and they seemed interested when I told them of places we had been over the years at family gatherings in my grandparents NewOrleans mansion. In our new statues as people not really dialed in to a path in the mainstream or anything else they seemed less  likely to be judgemental than some of our other relatives would have been. The home Jim and Kathy had was a small one and a half to two storey house on a decent sized piece of land the front of which was on a small  blacktop road and the rear of which was bounded by the Doyle River It was a small river that later in its course would flow through the Shenandoah National Park. The river has clear waters, smooth stone and pools and burbling falls a  few inches .when the water was lower. It was largely shaded with trees and shrubs from its banks. Dad and Jim had parents whose house in Abbeville had a bank of the bayou at its rear. My mother’s family had the same Vermilion RIver or Bayou flowing on a long side of their home properties just outside Abbeville. A house on a river seemed like a good place for all of us.  

Jim and Kathy had planted a garden full of vegetables that would mature during their absence. They had planted the garden not knowing that they would be leaving.I would tend the garden as best I could while we house sat and Dad and Mom did as well, but mostly we harvested the veggies.They were vital or we would not have had enough to eat. When there was bad weather we were truly isolated. Dad hitched into town to shop and I walked to the store a mile away for ingredients for cornbread mom taught me to make very well. Before Jim left, he showed me   and Dad some local plants like “lamb chops’ an edible green, Queen Anne’s lace a wild carrot species, hackberries and sassafras for tea. We also looked through the Foxfire books he had and he said I could refer to them. During our housesitting we are all these things and sometimes in moderate amounts. I also tried to make acorn flour which was inedible and I made snare for rabbits that caught none and weirs for catching fish that caught none. I longed for a fishing pole but we never got one. I touched a fish twice in the water but never caught one by hand as I tried to do. This was as close to living off the land as we had gotten so far and we were not doing very well. But we had enough transportation and money to get enough groceries to survive.

Alone in the upstairs room for hours, I would read the Old Testament stories in Kings and Chronicles and Judges over and over. I read every part of the story of King David. I also read through the Gospels for the second time. I also looked up every cross reference in my Bible for the stories about David, read all the psalms and read everything relevant to those stories in the Jerome Biblical Commentary and  Mckenzies DIctionary of the Bible

I began writing a journal for the first time and a sort of dream journal separately. On the one big trip we made we stayed with a family that had children with cystic fibrosis. We became friends, their parents were members of the Word of God Community. At some point Jim and Kathy and another brother, my uncle WIll and his girlfriend were with us in the small house. I also tried to jog for the first time. It was not a good time.  We made many memories. Mom retells the story of Dad praying a prayer of exorcism and seeing swarms of flies we had never seen around in any numbers coming out in response and then dying. She says we remembered the fact that Satan was called Beelzebub “Lord of the Flies”. I can attest that the facts of that story are substantially true. WHe also tells the story of a crazed man in a train station and how a mysterious black man appeared out of nowhere and rescued us and the young family of a soldier. The mysterious man drove us to a motel in his Cadillac and disappeared.  That was also a true story.

 I am not as involved in the world of mystical and miraculous observation as I was when I was 12. But I can never say that I never found anything there. Even America itself seemed tied to the hand of God in those days.     . 

We were not deeply engrossed in politics as we came into the Virginia countryside. But we did talk about politics as we had just left Georgia and were deeply committed and fervent Christians. Jimmy Carter, who had just been Governor of Georgia not long ago, was a vocal follower of Jesus Christ.  The huge smile of the man from Plains Georgia was caricatured and his lack of national connections appeared in the oft repeated question “Jimmy Who?”But since then he had won the nomination of the Democratic Party. Mom, Dad and I all remembered a couple of years earlier Ruth Carter Stapleton, Jimmy Carter’s sister, had spoken to the huge Catholic Charismatic Conference in Louisiana. “My brother feels like God is calling him to be President of the United States. Please pray for him and also remember that whatever God calls you to do he will give you the strength to do it.” That was a memorable sort of thing to hear. We did remember it and  I wondered if he was really going to be President.”So God calls President too.” I said to Jim, trying to explain how our family was functioning in this new spiritual path. WE had been at this converted state for a while but there was a lot we had not fully shared with Jim and Kathy. Over the years to come our family would visit them again, in college I would visit them a number of times and my other siblings would take their families to visit them. In all those years, they would live near or in Charlottesville, VIrginia. But they would have a number of living arrangements. The summer before our November 19, 2022 wedding, Clara and I spent one night with them in their home now in the building Jim had used as his  law office building for decades. This was a nice visit and we saw Jim in Louisiana at my Dad’s funeral in September of the same year and    in our home with some of his friends when he was visiting Louisiana last summer.  and then  

The memories of that visit blur together but it was a full and packed visit to be sure. It was a time Jim and Kathy brought us to see Monticello for the first time and to tour around Charlottesville. There was no massive internet based mapping infrastructure but the adults all determined  that there was no Catholic Church substantially closer to Browns Cove than St. Thomas Aquinas University Parish.  “Sure, I will drive you around  to see the Squatting Robot. That’s what I and my buddies called the Catholic Church on campus. It has this statue commissioned in the sixties that looks like it is made out of bumpers. Very much resembles a squatting robot.” We all laughed a bit nervously but when we saw the statue we thought the description seemed pretty reasonable. Jim and I had a conversation about St. Thomas Aquinas, Thomas Jefferson and about visions for human life found in the Declaration of Independence and the Summa Theologica. I talked to Jim about his time at UVa as well and wondered how I would get to college after the crazy circuitous route my education was taking.

But that visit with them for a week before they left on the trip for which we were housesitting was also a time for them to really see us as we had become. In my mother’s book Go You are Sent, in the chapter “Alleluia to Albemarle” on pages 207 to 208  she describes what we looked like from her point of view as it has survived a few edits over the years between her recording her memories and it being printed in 1995. This is how she remembers that we looked as we hitchhiked. After acknowledging that most people were not interested in stopping to give us a ride when we had to hitchhike from Browns Cove to Charlottesville”

“The Lord chose generous people. They had to have courage to make room in their car for a unique family, wearing crosses. Frank Dressed in Sears work clothes and sported a full beard. I carried four month old Sarah in a kangaroo-carry front pack., and, at that time, was still wearing the long dresses I had adopted in Tonga. Beau, a tow headed twelve- year-old dressed in old Levis was the only typical American in the group.”   

In no way is my account of these events authorized by my mother or Jim. But I will say that Jim has stated that one of the breakthroughs in his work as a lawyer in Charlottesville came from one of the lawyers who picked us up hitching rides to church and then took us to eat and relax at his home that had television, a game room and  other amenities. Somehow we became friends. WHen Jim and Kathy got back they also became friends and that connection led to greater opportunities in the legal community. In those days Mom, Dad and I all believed that we were called by God to our travels and therefore could believe he would bless those who housed us. I rarely think in those terms now, but Jim’s words about those who helped us as  hitchhikers came across in conversation sincerely on more than one occasion. That story made me feel that perhaps there was something to that blessing on those who housed the one’s traveling in God’s name.   .  .     .  .        

We would finally leave Browns Cove for good to go back to Abbeville and explore life in our town living among the more working class and poorer neighborhoods where we lived. I would go back to school at Mount Carmel Elementary School. I would end up back in my old class with the woman I am married to today. But although my grades would be OK we would travel in and out in the future and sometimes I would get picked up for truancy and other times we would leave in the middle of a grading period. How life went back home is another part of my story. 

Chapter Ten of Online Memoir: Brother to a Princess of Flowers

In EL Paso there were people who taught Mom lessons in natural childbirth, people who sewed her maternity clothes that represented her ideals in wearing the clothes she had adopted in Tonga and also were practical and American in other ways. They also gave her a book on natural childbirth, which she read. Mom was eager to practice natural childbirth, to breastfeed and to be a devoted mother to her new child in a very different way than she had been mothered or she had mothered me.   There was a sense that she was  caught up in the plan of God.  

In my mother’s book Go You Are Sent: An Incredible Odyssey of Faith there are many layers in a book I saw her create over many years with careful notes and remembered stories and various drafts. Sometimes she set it aside for years at a time. In time she hired people to help coordinate and edit various drafts. Then it was published and the publisher also edited it. In some ways the book continued to improve, but in other ways it developed a flaw or two. This is evident in the same chapter I have recently quoted, “Navajos to La Cueva”. In that chapter she recounts our arrival in El Paso. 

“Father RIck came to pick us up at the Bus station.His eyes twinkled as he and Frank tossed out Tongan mat into the back of the truck. Here was an attorney turned missionary, his expectant wife, a twelve year old son arriving on a bus, with our few belongings wrapped in a Tongan mat.( Summers 383).”

The point here is that I was born on June 15, 1964. Sarah was born on May 18, 1976. The oldest I could have been when we arrived in El Paso was 11 years old. I was still no older than eleven when we got back to Abbeville and still eleven when Sarah was born. The coming back to Abbeville was marked with joy at the idea of my baby sibling being welcomed into the extended family and also the idea of reuniting with others in that same extended family. But the trip home was not really simple at all, we had left the land and life for a long term missionary life and that time had not been so long. We were returning with no home, Dad did not have a job and Mom was pregnant and pretty far along. It became clearer that it was a time of some confusion for everyone involved as to how we  would fit in at home. I remember my grandparents and aunts and uncles trying to ask me about what my parents intended as they never had before. The school year was almost over. I visited Mount Carmel Elementary School and spent a day or so there without enrolling. I am not sure why or if I was looking at enrolling there in the fall. One person I actually spoke with was my wife today Clara Duhon. It was a pretty good time with some people in the class and others at the school.I had not yet developed the deep sense of unease that was coming. There was some sense of excitement about hearing about my travels and our missionary life. There was also an excitement about our family welcoming a new baby. That is something a few people have reminded me about over the years. “You were so excited to have a new brother or sister coming.” 

At first we stayed with one set of grandparents or another. But then we settled into a garage apartment no longer being rented by Mama Esther, my  Dad’s paternal grandmother. The garage was  the garage for her house and though the lawns and gardens were a bit run down and there was no car in the garage it still had a certain charm and the windows of the apartment were alternately hidden amidst the branches of trees and shrubs or else had views of a nice neighborhood. It was not an air conditioned house. My mother’s sister Rachel and her brother Brucewere each having their second children. The Gremillions called the three first cousins born that year of 1976 The Bicentennial Bunch. Her mother and the womenfolk in her family had fewer baby things to circulate her way than any other year. But a friend gave her a beautiful bassinet and my Dad’s first cousin Laura Lucia Massey gave her a huge box of fine and expensive baby girl clothes, although nobody knew Sarah’s gender. When the baby came I was staying with my grandparents. Mom and Dad went to the hospital, I and others got the news together or separately. I met them there by the night she was born. Mom had to leave her in the hospital with jaundice on Thursday and fight to keep her milk because she could not breastfeed.  But Friday she was able to take the baby back to the apartment. ALong with Sarah’s birth my parents also became more involved in ministry. We also thought we would return to ElL Paso and heard lots of things from them encouraging us and expressing their encouragement from the start.   

 My father, PauPau, came up with the  research about her name. Sarah came from the Hebrew for “Princess”, and Anthea came from a root that meant “of flowers”. The baby to be welcomed in the beautiful bassinet and dressed in very expensive hand-me-down baby clothes was to be called the Princess of Flowers. Mom tells of her struggle to breastfeed. I remember for years she supported the La Leche League and other organizations supporting more breastfeeding in the world that had turned to the bottle.  

I was glad as the little apartment took shape. I spent time with Mama Esther, trying to support my family’s free stay in her apartment by cleaning up the yard, helping her with small errands and clearing out closets and pantries. She was happy to give us old fruit preserves she had canned and things she baked. I would run a few errands to the store. We didn’t has a bike for me or a car for my parents and I was truant for a couple of weeks, we had no TV or air conditioning. WIthout the   acreage of farm and wilderness around us I just felt poor and although we prayed a great deal we seemed to have less of a focus on God’s work than before. The days stretched out before us and we saw the coming of the baby as a new era. 

Right across the street from Mama Esther’s house was my Dad’s Uncle Clay – also known as Uncle ‘Tit (pronounced Tee and meaning little Clay). He was the tough and colorful great uncle who had given me my first gun. He was a difficult man and was not sure we were not taking too many good things out of his mother’s pantry on the one hand. On the other hand he appreciated me picking up trash from under the house and outbuildings, cleaning a birdbath, tidying a  closet or two. He gave me few dollars after a while to do odd jobs and he was somehow able to track down a savings account passbook I had lost. I was able to draw out  a few dollars and buy a few other things for our house.  When school was out, I could walk to the library downtown and read and I did that a good number of times, occasionally seeing other kids I knew and finding a growing distance between us. Over the years I would come back to that place many times.

While there I also met a group of men who occasionally called on Uncle Clay. They had interest in the girl who had grown up in his home, this was the  daughter of Dudley Leblanc Jr., (our Cousin Odile), in my father and grandfather, in Odile’s grandfather and in me. One or two of them tried to teach me some basic Cajun French and I tried to check on the words with Mama Esther. They also told me of how Dudley Leblanc Senior had written books on the Cajun people and their history and was President of the Association of Louisiana Acadians but reminded me that there were other traditions and organizations in which our family were involved that went much further back in time and still mattered to an ever shrinking number  people – but still mattered. 

Under Mama Esther’s magnolia tree they had  talked to me before and after Sarah’s birthin the evening hours a few times and planted seeds that were meant to grow in my mind over time. They did take root  and grow. We walked to Church as a family when Mom was big and pregnant. and we prayed and corresponded with the community in ElL Paso. Overall, I was busy enough but I began to spend long hours just thinking and praying alone and worrying about the future. But I was still very eager to meet my little brother or sister when they came.  But after the baby came, our home in La Cueva was occupied by others, there was no paying ministry or systemic support  and few gifts. Dad began to mow pastures on the family farm charging what anyone else would charge but making less because he had to use tractors and mowers he did not own. I went with him a few times. But I remember being troubled whe the huge machines cut up a rabbit or even a mouse in the big fields. Killing for food was one thing but that was something else. We were really poor and I did what I could to care for Sarah and support my parents and field questions about why Dad did not go back to practicing law. The baby thrived but was a bit collicky. There were periods when only I could stop her crying, that made me feel special. 

Many people had a kind of respect for some part of our lives. Some respected Mom breastfeeding when few did, Some respected our stories and mementoes of work in the missions. Some respected the teaching and preaching my parents got to do in marriage prep courses. But what nobody did was feel called to organize support for us in the way that many in ministry were supported. For me there was a sense of anxiety about how our lives would turn out if we had given up what we had once been and did not find our path back into the life in which we were called. Eventually, Dad ran out of pastures to mow and we still had no clear plans. I had run out of most of the little one time jobs I had been doing. The school year was approaching.    

We went to spend some time in the mansion where my Dad’s parents lived in New Orleans and Sarah cried almost incessantly. We watched the magnificent displays of the fourth of July bicentennial fireworks in New York and Washington D.C. on the television with my Grandparents and it was pretty memorable. I remember wondering what it would be like to find a new way of life for ourselves in America.  But although my grandfather hoped Dad might clerk for him on the Supreme Court of Louisiana that did not happen. We got the news  that one of the feelers Dad had put out to an exciting group of American Christians influenced by spiritual experiences similar to our own. They were living a passion for Christian Renewal. FInally the invitation came for us to got there and we set out to do so. 

I am not sure how long we where in New Orleans but the days were long because of Sarah’s constant wailing. I put her to sleep more successfully than the badly stressed adults many times but also failed many times to comfort her. Sarah’s colic never really let up until we arrived in Alleluia Community in Faith VIllage in Augusta, Georgia. Dad had corresponded with them and we had been invited to go and see the way they lived the renewal and the gospel in community. The people who had been our last bridge back to El Paso had been unable to accept us due to one of them having a sudden heart attack.I think for me as we waited to make our next move I was deeply conflicted. I wanted to be a great missionary saint, I wanted to be a good brother and son. I wanted to be able to fit in and I wanted to write. But I also wanted to be true to my own personal and family history and heritage. .

Racial Violence, Islam, Christianity, America and Me… Part Two

While Louisiana reels or tries not to reel from tensions centering around Baton Rouge. There are families in Texas that do not  yet feel the need to pivot mostly to our news stories. They are the families of the officers killed in the recent Dallas police ambush which preceded the one in Baton R0uge. The fallen officers killed have been identified as: Dallas Police Department  Senior Corporal. Lorne Ahrens, age 48, who had been with the department since 2002; Dallas Police Department Officer Michael Krol, 40, who had been with the department since 2007; Dallas Police Department  Seargent. Michael Smith, 55, a former U.S. Army Ranger who had served in the department since 1989; Dallas Area Rapid Transit (DART) Officer Brent Thompson, 43, a former U.S. Marine who had been serving in DART since 2009. Thompson was the first DART officer to be killed in the line of duty since the department was founded in 1989 and last in this mention Dallas Police Department  Officer Patrick Zamarripa, 32, a former U.S. Navy sailor and Iraq War veteran who had been with the department since 2011.This event was without equal in carnage of this kind in the period since 9/11  as far as killings in the United States. On that fateful day in 2001 that we all can remember who were Americans and anything near adulthood 72 law enforcement officers died in the totality of horror that is lumped together as the September 11 attacks. But this attack by Micah Xavier Johnson surpasses the  two 2009 shootings in Lakewood, Washington, and Oakland, California, where four officers each were killed as well as the recent killings perpetrated by Long in Baton Rouge.

The shootings in Dallas were also a sort of peak thus far in the attack of radially conscious black actors against a combination of the white people of this country and the policing authorities as a direct and declared target. In addition to their significance for race relations they of course have other claims to fame and infamy. Five officers  in a community which has been honored for its excellent race and community relations were killed and nine other law enforcement officers as well as  two civilians were injured when shot by a decorated ( although not at the higher levels)  and experienced US military veteran whose life shows many of the tensions and stresses of life in America in his generation from his upbringing in Mesquite Texas, to his birth in Missisisippi. Most of the victims were shot during the protests, where they distinguished themselves by maintaining an unthreatening demeanor and presentation of a policing force. At least one Officer was killed  during a shootout that developed after the killer launched his attack.The dead comprised four Dallas Police Department (DPD) officers and one Dallas Area Rapid Transit (DART) officer. Four of the injured officers were from DPD, three were from DART, and two were from El Centro College. Seven of the injured officers were treated at Parkland Memorial Hospital, famous for recieing the fallen President Kennedy. Two officers underwent surgery. One civilian was shot in the back of the leg, breaking her tibia.

Unlike Baton Rouge, no Black Officers were killed in the attack and the shooter was part of the city and community  in which he did the killing.  I reacted to that deadly attack on police with a post referenced here. I will not spend very much space or very many words revisiting that attack in this post.  There has been significant research into the background of the Dallas Cop Killer Micah Johnson who also had other names. The deceased and almost-certainly-correct-and-yet-never-to- be-tried-because-he-is-dead shooting suspect, Micah Johnson, had no criminal history.  In terms of understanding what happened in Dallas there are different levels  of understanding.

Micah Xavier Johnson had a number of aliases and one was of the Anglo type and the other was Islamic or at least Arabic with Islamic resonance.  He visited assertive  and strident political causes online and investigators found that he liked several websites dedicated to Black Lives Matter and the New Black Panthers. But he was also involved with groups that are seen as going over the line of respectable discourse in this country —  the Nation of Islam and the Black Riders Liberation Party, two groups the Southern Poverty Law Center considers hate groups.  The Nation of Islam stands out as the only one with a strong Islamic connection but there is more evidence of his interest in Islam.

Dallas shooting montage

There is no shortage of racial tension in the United States nor has there been in my lifetime and there is no single image, event or idea which epitomizes race relations here. There is no single person who embodies the experience of all or even most white people or black people in the country. There is no single position on a gauge which really accounts for how good or bad race relations are, that is the truth.  But truth, as I have cited John Denver’s song for saying many times, — is hard to come by.  The relations between the races in America have a complex reality and a complicated history. Before even getting to the many legal, economic, procedural,  and religious questions that are pertinent to this post there is also the question of language and terminology. The first image in this article is a montage of people including Steph Curry, Mariah Carey, Jeremiah Wright, Soledad O’Brien, Vanessa Williams and Corey Booker who currently identify as Black. That is a legal, political and cultural decision. In the State of Louisiana where this post centers its attention people like them — who look like them and perhaps more than that have not been considered Black. This division into Black and white was accomplished in large part getting people like this to accept the designation of African-American. But the same processes and struggles had been ongoing long before that particular drama of terminology… Polarizing the country into Black and White even occurs to some real degree in a country of white and non- white. But there has been a middle ground approach which in our history also fostered greater sensitivity to 0ther differences within a responsible context. This post will get into that history a bit below. I have proposed addressing that set of realities which is represented in this discussion in my model constitutions which take up many posts and pages and in my writing about them in posts such as this and this.  The current crisis is nothing compared to what may be coming down the road if we do not address our situation well.
Colored African Americans montage

The  place where I am writing is a place with very specific racial history which is very significant in the United States of America. Every other place may have a thing which they may have done with racial overtones that falls across the line of history into the realm of legends where history joins folklore once again. But South Louisiana has many claims to fame in racial history. Perhaps if a few are listed they will add to the discussion of racial identity and relationships in America

The Battle of New Orleans is one of those parts of American history which was an enormously important event which has been minimized by various group over the years for political reasons. Many of these varied minimizers would hate and despise each other more than anyone involved in that important battle and some in fact have hated and despised each other — but nonetheless it has been a very important event which could not be accepted by many as decisive in American history and occurring as it did. One of the reasons that the battle of New Orleans was not given the fair share of credit it deserves in the age of Jim Crow segregation was because of race relations and racial identities among those in the flotilla of Jean Lafitte. Today there is little incentive to resurrect the sources buried then because Blacks were not equal in the complex reality of the period but they had vastly more opportunities and nearly equal positions than at many other times and places. In addition the society as a whole had both better (not well known) and worse (very well known) positions for African Americans of various identities including but not limited to the free negroes. Mulattoes, Quadroons, Octaroons and others of mixed race could be slave or free but they were not negroes. Sometimes the differences were large and sometimes they were slight.

Acadians who increasingly are called Cajuns have a white identity which is careful and as nuanced as whatever the society they are in may allow but they are a white ethnic group which has attachments to non-white groups that included their involvement with Jean Lafitte. the arguably very small act of setting up a relationship with Jean Lafitte and the Baratarian Association specifically to provide for the defense of their interests in the region and of their own lives and liberties from the depredations of the British.  The person who would have been most in charge of this activity would have been Gils Robin. The memories of this period persist across Acadiana.  

There is a Jean Louis Robin Canal and a Jean Louis Robin Lake to this day in South Eastern Louisiana. In the aftermath of hurricane Katrina  journalist Ken Wells did a book published in 2008 about the family still building their own boats and navigating the waters of that region. Today they are only partly Cajun culturally and genealogically  and have become part of another cultural fabric beside the homes of their Cajun ancestors. But in his book they remember the ties between the outlying Cajuns of that region  the pirates and privateers of the Barataria Association. Folkloristically, the story would be more or less that the brothers Gils, Martin and Jean Robin would have moved to the region shortly after the Acadians had settled in the Lafourche region relatively nearby. Their small community would have ties to  Attakakpas and Oppelousas Prairies of  Louisiana in the West as well as with Lafourche. Martin Robin who was a godfather to one of the Lafitte children was the grandchild of one of these brothers. Jean Lafitte also had a number of titles he sometimes used that are capable of being given Cajun interpretation unique to it Helllenic Centre Ouest Languedoc vernacular.  But the words have other possible explanations. In addition to the role Lafitte played in the Battle of New Orleans which was crucial in terms of artillery and supply and guides to the waters of the area Cajun units also fought in the area. Future Governor Henry Schuyler Thibodaux was a Lieutenant who saw action there. In addition Cajun or Acadian units served in several parts of the encounter. The service record was perhaps mixed in that battle but while some Acadians may have been farmed out to the other units and deployed some real expertise in throwing up defenses along the wetlands it does seem to be likely that the plurality of Acadians served on the ill-fated West Bank line under David Morgan.  Morgan had put his troops in a more or less indefensible position to support Patterson, the artillerist not from Lafitte’s group. The bad position was exacerbated by the Kentucky riflemen in the unit who were sick exhausted and without Lafitte and others from Louisiana would have been unarmed for all practical purposes. At the moment of the attack all witness blamed the break in the line on the lack of courage not of the Cajuns but the troops from Kentucky. However, a court of inquiry found them also without fault because the position was so ill conceived and because the overall glory of the event was enough to overshadow the failures. Nonetheless men  very likely to biased in favor of the Kentuckians over the men from South Louisiana thought they broke first.  So the ties between my own ethnic community and the Creoles of color are both deep and important ties.

Picture map creoles

The most fierce fighters on the American side in the battle of New Orleans  may well have been the Free Blacks. I did write earlier that no North American Colored officers existed before the Confederates of the Louisiana Native Guard. However, anyone who knows the battle well will remember Major Savary and Lieutenant Listeau were officers of color who fought in the battle. However, it seems very likely that their commissions like many titles of the era were carried over from other service. They held commissions as Spanish troops in Santo Domingo and the US recognized those commissions. This was intended to be temporary. Dominique Youx the Lafitte artillerist who played the most significant role of direct fighting by any Baratarian is of uncertain  (certainly not Cajun) ancestry and became a respectable citizen of Louisiana when others went to galveston for  the chance to continue a disreputable way of life.  He likely had some colored ranking people in his unit but they were not formally commissioned, that leaves Listeau and Savary as exceptions to my statement about the Louisiana Native Guard. The Spanish had a few knowingly and  officially commissioned colored officers in the Caribbean but not in their North American forces. Nonetheless, the victory at New Orleans was the greatest in American history at that time by many measures and Cajuns were there. So also were many creoles of color not all of whom considered themselves black or were considered such.

President Barack Hussein Obama has explicitly condemned the supposed absurdity of words and ideas such as “Octaroon”. He has been quick to make every African American Black in his ordinary speeches and has few real options given his ideology. He  has presided over the dismantling of the Confederate Heritage preserved in monuments across much of the South. He has added to the  impossibility of seriously examining the Confederate legacy as regards race relations. All those things listed above I believe to be demonstrable parts of his presidential legacy. But the truth is that the lack of understanding and discussion of the racial realities — realities we may not understand but which we nonetheless use to guide every day decisions that affect millions — has been badly inhibited for a long time.

I think that the constitutional realities were less than ideal for Micah Xavier Johnson, that does not excuse him for avenging Philando Castille and Alton Sterling as he did. But he was a man who had a gift for killing and attacking and for forming passionately held political convictions.  A child of divorce and a marginal student he found a way to honor and decency in the US military. But he came home an alienated and violent man in an individualistic and dishonest society.  Alienation underlies the violence,rage, unreasoning rhetoric and chaos coming from much of the Black community today. Alienation affects many others in our country and I think in part for constitutional reasons.  That includes alienated white southerners and many cops.

But the Cajun people with whom I most identify have suffered enormous alienation in this country.  For Cajuns it was often the case that there was a sense of facing three unpalatable realities at the same time. It was a cultural shift from a time when French heritage and American citizenship had enjoyed a more promising and positive relationship than they were coming to have in the years between 1865 and 1943. The portraits of Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI had hung in honor in the halls of the Congress in Philadelphia before the Capital was moved to Washington and the District of Columbia. The Louisiana Purchase was both a friendly act and one which established a very definite equality between Citizens of France in Napoleonic Imperial Louisiana and those of the current United States of America. The result was a new country which was in a real sense a merger of two societies. This unity had been imperfectly but impressively sealed in the Battle of New Orleans. While other states, like Missouri would find themselves under the British common law after entering the Union, Louisiana itself at least would remain under the State’s new version of the French Civil Code. In 1847 the first laws describing language in schools were passed and the assurance was made of right to English only, French only and bilingual education. The Acadian Governor Mouton had from the Cajun point of view presided over the zenith of antebellum life in Louisiana before the forces of chaos and destruction which led to the Civil War were pouring across the region and were contested by his son Alfred Mouton. That same Alfred Mouton was killed in that war and so it was to that same golden age which Margaret Mitchell commemorated in Gone With the Wind was in fact a golden age in memory for many Cajuns as well. The horrors that followed were no less horrible for them than for other Southerners in fact they may have been worse years to come on average but the complexities of the period which followed were not going to be simply defined. Postbellum America was an increasingly alienating and hostile place for Acadians to live out their lives and destiny as Acadians or Cajuns.

But one may well argue that Black people are far more alienated and that certainly the Confederate monuments help to alienate them and cannot possibly point to anything that Black or other African American people  would relate to in a way that might point to a path forward. A path rooted in Christian experience primarily, in the leadership of whites but in hope for full realization of African American  potential. Probabaly most people who feel that way would still feel that way after reading this post but there are other arguments to be made from the facts. There is no way to avoid writing that despite all that has been written by very many competent people about the issues related to race in these decades I find that there are many large areas of important experience that are not duly explained.

While the Code Noir of 1685 was not the law in effect in Louisiana in 1860 it was still the strongest single source of the legal spirit behind the Louisiana Civil Code and the customs and practices of the State. That law stated in its final article the following: Article LIX. We grant to freed slaves the same rights, privileges and immunities that are enjoyed by freeborn persons. We desire that they are deserving of this acquired freedom, and that this freedom gives them, as much for their person as for their property, the same happiness that natural liberty has on our other subjects.

An ocean of ink has been expended to show that by no means did any spirit of this law exist in the South. That has been done by those of a more Southron party and disposition and those more inclined to extol the benevolence of the wonderful Union reconstruction. There is evidence that much of that ink does not deal adequately with the facts as they existed in Louisiana. We see that in the period of time immediately following Louisiana’s secession, Governor Thomas Overton Moore issued pleas for troops on April 17 and April 21, 1861. There is a great deal to be learned from the incidents related to the creation and the rest of the story of the Louisiana Native Guard. So that story is outlined here in brief. It remains in testimony to realities of that era.
In response to the governor’s request, a committee of ten prominent New Orleans free people of color who included people across the color spectrum which in their society was not the only factor for determining a family or an individual’s rank but was the single most important purely social factor in a complex social system. The certified were a group of people less than one eighth Negroes who were proven to be committed to the social order of antebellum Louisiana and these enjoyed a special relationship with the Creole and Cajun elite. These people were being woven into the fabric of the merged culture of Louisiana after Statehood until the War. Below them were the Octoroons, the Quadroons, the Mulattoes and the true free blacks. Writers today will tend to call all of these people free blacks and they have their reasons for doing so but that is not how they saw themselves. This complex and racially conscious and stratified community was represented in this Committee of Ten who called a meeting at the Catholic Institute on the 22d of April. About two thousand people attended the meeting where muster lists were opened, with about 1,500 free men of color signed up. The anglo Southron Governor Moore included in all the proper and ordinary channels these applications and included these men as part of the state’s militia. The Louisiana Native Guard is so named because they were natives who were not quite citizens but they were accepted as armed patriots in the Confederate cause. It bears adding that while this text asserts that Acadians were largely very free under the laws of 1685 many French people were not. Thus in the way of thinking of many in Louisiana including most Cajuns these freed people had preserved the kind of liberty and status a 1685 Frenchman would have who did not enjoy the freedom of a Coutume, a religious order, a knightly order, a chartered city or a privileged family. That was still a real level of freedom. Ancient Acadian rights, the Louisiana Purchase and the US Constitution allowed the Cajuns more freedoms to which the freedmen were not a party. Likewise the “Kentucks” as Cajuns sometimes called the newcomers asserted the rights of Scotsmen, Englishmen and the rights of the Louisiana Purchase and the US Constitution. Those were rights to which these people were not a party but did not preclude them from preserving the rights of French Colonial Natives which were transferred as an unspecified adjunct to the rights of Citizens under the Purchase. So the new militia regiment of colored Natives was formed during May 1861. The men were mostly but not all from the Francophone community, some members of the colored Confederate regiment came from wealthy prominent gens libres de coleurs families. they filled the majority of NCO posts initially but the majority of the men held the rank of private soldiers and were in civilian life clerks, artisans, and skilled laborers. at the end of that fateful May on the 29th in 1861, Governor Moore appointed three white officers as commanders of the regiment, and company commanders were appointed from among the larger group of elected non-commissioned officers. This volunteer militia unit was the first of any in North American history to knowingly have African-American officer. That is not because there had not been colored soldiers under the United States, Britain, Spain and France. It was Louisiana as she rose up for Dixie that chose to take this step.Though ten per cent of the members of this Confederate unit would later join the Union Army’s First Louisiana Native Guard, the two are regarded by most as separate military units. It is one of the tragedies of the falling and failing South that these men never fired a shot in anger as Confederates against the Yankee invader. While there may be many other stories for which their fate is a better one for a Cajun view of what the South it was supposed to be it was a sign of bad times to come. It indicates something about the customs, commerce and status of person in Louisiana that these Native Guards were traditional American militia volunteers, and as such supplied their own arms and uniforms. One here is reminded of another article of the Code Noir, as follows: Article XV. We forbid slaves from carrying any offensive weapons or large sticks, at the risk of being whipped and having the weapons confiscated. The weapons shall then belong to he who confiscated them. The sole exception shall be made for those who have been sent by their masters to hunt and who are carrying either a letter from their masters or his known mark.

There is every reason to believe that the even as the Code lived on in more current laws regarding arms restrictions strictly enforced against slaves were not applied to these men in their daily lives before the war.These were displayed in a grand review of troops in New Orleans on November 23, 1861, and again on January 8, 1862. The terribly wasted troops offered their services to escort Union prisoners taken prisoner by the Confederate forces at the First Battle of Bull Run. One could imagine that this could have been done with white troops as well and with international observers it might have been a means of showing the possibility of Confederate policy working out a secure future the abolitionist powers they sought to ally with as they marched through New Orleans.But this would have required the kind of social daring the COnfederacy would usually lack.

Confederate General David Twiggs failed to accept the unit’s offer, but thanked them for the “promptness with which they answered the call. That was a response that reflected the way such transactions occurred in the military. The Louisiana State Legislature had begun to change the society into something new when they passed a law in January 1862 reorganizing the militia into only “…free white males capable of bearing arms… ”. The Native Guards regiment was effectively disbanded by this law on February 15, 1862. Despite the change in racial ideology already starting Governor Moore used his executive powers to reinstate the Native Guards to oppose the U.S. Naval invasion. But when the regular Confederate forces under Major General Mansfield Lovell abandoned New Orleans the whole system was plunged, into disarray. Cajuns served in the regular Confederate Forces and had militia units advancing to defend the city as well as the unauthorized units that have always been part of the culture who hoped to join in the fight in their traditional guerilla manner. But none of these units did well when the Confederate forces withdrew and the militia units were left to fend for themselves. The Native Guards were subject to the same relative disgrace and so it was no great surprise that they were again, and in finality, ordered to disband by General John L. Lewis, 1862, as Federal ships arrived opposite the city. General Lewis of the Louisiana Militia as he sent word to their units deployed in useless positions disbanded these colored Confederates and cautioned them to hide their arms and uniforms before returning home. He also began the process requiring them to hide their COnfederate service, later ten percent of this unit would serve in the Union and be among the most distinguished colored troops. Some came to the irregular Cajun militia according to spoken tradition and assisted in the armed and highly secretive smuggling supplies to Confederate forces during the war. None of those ever received much recognition even though some did fire shots in anger at Union forces in these irregular units. The white creole Colonel Felix Labatut maintained the belief that colored troops could make a difference and was proven right by the Union service with distinction of his former officers Cailloux and Morrison in the cause of the Yankee invaders.

The moratorium of colored troops by the South certainly did not limit the deployment of colored troops by the union. Whatever the injustices and horrors of the slaveholding South may have been there were plenty of woes in the war and reconstruction that followed. From the Cajun point of view it was a bitter irony to lose possible GLC units and see that throughout the war and in the time of the period after end of hostilities in the Civil War was a time in which Cajun folklore reports that people believed that Yankee bureaucrats had motivated and armed a quarter of a million freed slaves and loosed them in strongly encouraged rage upon the Southland. This period followed the kinds of endless horrors described in books like Yankee Autumn in Acadiana and local institutions of my ancestors rolled over to face the new challenge. the Knights of the Invisible Empire of the Ku Klux Klan Also known with the same name given here but with the word White preceding all the others i.e. “White Knights…” also known as the Ku Klux Klan, the KKK and the Klan. The Klan share many motifs, traditions and operating procedures with the much older Ridelles and somewhat older Comites de Vigilance that existed among the Acadians. However, the Klan always had it own symbols too and those grew in importance and common symbols declined. The Cross-Lighting was never an Acadian symbol but perhaps went with the ideas of ethnic differentiation that are very Acadian. Knights of the White Camellia have been basically a special Louisiana version of the Ku Klux Klan. The name is a triple entendre it references the beautiful flowers of this area, the legendary kingdom of Arthur of the Round Table, and the Chivalric legacy left by French Catholic  Christian Prince Camille de Polignac, a fine specimen of all that being white as well as being human can offer. Aside from a relatively long list of titles his ordinary name was Camille Armand Jules Marie, Prince de Polignac.  He was a handsome, well educated, musical, mathematical, valiant and well traveled aristocrat who was a Confederate General during the Civil War. This Prince took command from the Acadian Confederate General Alfred Mouton after he died achieving the last major victory under the Confederate flag. Cajuns cannot be expected to say that right or wrong as life may be there is nothing to be admired in this Prince that is absent in a miserable ignorant Black field hand given a gun and a few weeks training. The Prince as a friend of Mouton embodied a sense of the lost potential of Acadiana to bring the South into a prominent place in the world. Christian institutions in the White Supremacist South did offer a flowering of African American potential and that flowering was largely vandalized by Southern factors but also by the union. Getting rid of Confederate heritage will not mend our woes. The roots of our struggles these days in my opinion are in various forms of alienation and a solution I could tolerate will start with telling the truth. Telling the truth many times in difficult ways will not solve the problems alone but it will  be part of making a start at solving the problem.

Racial violence is not going to end tomorrow. Ending racial violence cannot be achieved in isolation form other challenges.  I believe that we need radical change. But most radical change is bad. Getting the right radical change when it is needed is almost miraculous….

 

 

I have posted about race in America before on more than one occasion. This is a link to one such post. But I will provide much of the text as needed here below.  It is only a moderately distilled and limited boiling down of the original in the next few paragraphs.  There is some effort to cover the news but there is more than that an effort to discuss how a great deal of America’s trouble seems to me, it is made real by near experience.  That includes a sense that law enforcement and the judicial system are not exactly fixed in the role of protecting me from outside invasion — they have other roles as well. In following the economic collapse and in 2013 the official financial bankruptcy of Detroit, I remembered my ex-wife’s trips to Troy and our entertaining one of her supervisors when she came to Louisiana. I also remember my numerous trips to Michigan. I remember troubled neighborhoods and cities I have visited or lived in around the world.  The school shootings remind me of my many experiences in schools. The soaring prison population reminds me of my many visits to and interactions with prisoners. One of the pastors of the church parish to which I belong and which I have regularly attended most of the last fifteen years has been to prison. Governors Edwards and Leche, Attorney General Jack Gremillion, Commissioners Brown and Roemer (Roemer was the father of Governor Roemer) all went to prison.  One of the more successful members of my father’s law school class who was also one of his good friends went to prison. Several of my first cousins have gone to jail and a sizable number of my friends and classmates over the years have done time.  Those numbers are not an abstraction for me. Lots of prisoners are black and a lot of others are in some way tied up with the results of our attempt at a misguided racial revolution.  But misguided or not I do understand to some real degree the resentments and fears of many black people in the United States.  I could empathize with black kids protesting over the Trayvon Martin shooting who were afraid of getting shot and the many whites and Asians not protesting who are afraid or disturbed by the racist Black masses of vengeful, ignorant people who harbor those calling for blood, making death threats and collecting money for bounties. This is a real tension and crisis but there are plenty of people who are not black who are concerned about run-ins with the police.  When discussing the Trayvon Martin case the role of the President in responding to this crisis is very debatable but it surely can be said that it was not quickly resolved or defused.

White House redo

We all have images of what leadership should look like which are not simple portrayals of reality.

Much of the current Black Lives Matter movement began with the shooting of Trayvon Martin.  But actually it was less on the fateful night of February 26, 2012,  when in Sanford, Florida of these United States, George Zimmerman delivered the bullet that killed Trayvon Martin that the protests really became intense.  There were large protests that Trayvon’s killer was not charged. the masses of Blacks who erupted in the streets in those early days could make some claim to acting within reason. The original discussion focussed on the factual reality that after the largely untrained and officious Zimmerman shot Martin, who was young and  unarmed, during an altercation  which went on in the context of some kind of policing by Zimmerman and became physically intense between the two men and he was not charged with anything. The police who arrived were perhaps predisposed to see his side of things (so it could be argued) because they were responding to an earlier call from Zimmerman, the police had fresh and clear evidence as well because of the call and the fact that they arrived on the scene within two minutes of the shooting. Zimmerman was taken into custody, treated for head injuries, then questioned for five hours — a reasonably thorough response but still not as exhaustive as many. The police chief in charge of the investigation and arrest stated that Zimmerman was released for lack of  evidence to refute Zimmerman’s claim of having acted in self-defense. In fact it did seem to be the case that  under Florida’s Stand Your Ground statute, the police were prohibited by law from making an arrest in this case. But the optics were at least controversial and the protests might be just. They became intense  and also really anti social in a new way when the issue became different. Right or wrong Zimmerman was arrested and charged for the fatal  shooting of a 17-year-old African American high school student.  The shooter was a significantly battered  28-year-old mixed race Hispanic man who was the neighborhood watch coordinator obviously doing his earnest best for the gated community and in this situation he killed Trayvon  Martin  living with relatives there and he was acquitted on July 13, 2013 and the protests began to deny the basic legitimacy of the justice system. This dislocation from a watchdog of the system was intensified when the protest spewed hatred at many parties when on February 24,  2015, the United States Department of Justice announced that “there was not enough evidence for a federal hate crime prosecution.” In that intense 2013 period there was another set of racial realities on my mind.

The posts I wrote about the Trayvon  Martin case came at a time when I would rather have been paying tribute to a local and personal connection in an uncomplicated with one of that  same  year’s National Medal of Arts recipients: A man who has had his work put into successful television formats, who has a center named after him in my undergraduate alma mater, who has had his work and career recognized in many ways as this native of Louisiana and former Stanford University Stegner Fellow Ernest Gaines had that same year at eighty years old received an important  award from the hands of President Barack Hussein Obama. Gaines was the only novelist on the National Medal of Arts list that year – he had already received the National Medal for the Humanities in 2000 and a similar honor from France and his work has been translated into Chinese and most large European languages.  Poets and novelists have been awarded regularly the National Medal in both categories but I am not sure how many have received both awards.  The language of the citation includes the following statement that Gaines is “recognized for his contributions as an author and teacher. Drawing deeply from his childhood in the rural South, his works have shed new light on the African-American experience and given voice to those who have endured injustice.”

Gaines was born more than 80 years ago on the River Lake Plantation near the small town of Oscar, in Pointe Coupee Parish, Louisiana. His ancestors had lived on the same plantation, River Lake, since slavery, remaining after emancipation to work the land as sharecroppers for five generations. Gaines and his family lived in the houses, much expanded, that had once served as slave quarters. His parents separated when he was eight; the strongest adult influence in his childhood was a great aunt, Augusteen Jefferson, crippled from birth, who crawled from kitchen to the family’s garden patch, growing and preparing food, and caring for him and for six of his brothers and sisters.

This became the setting and premise for many of his later works. He was the oldest of 12 children, raised by his aunt, who was crippled and had to crawl to get around the house. Gaines’ first years of school took place in the plantation church. When the children were not picking cotton in the fields, a visiting teacher came for five to six months of the year to provide basic education. Gaines then spent three years at St. Augustine School, a Catholic school for African Americans in New Roads, Louisiana. Pointe Coupée Parish, “Negro schooling” in the Parish did not progress beyond the eighth grade at that time.

At the age of fifteen, Gaines moved to California to join his mother and stepfather. He wrote his first novel was written at age 17, while babysitting his youngest brother, Michael. In 1956, Gaines published a short story, The Turtles, in a college magazine at San Francisco State (SFSU). He graduated in literature in 1957 from SFSU. After spending two years in the Army, he won the Stegner, a writing fellowship to Stanford. In most years since 1984, Gaines has spent the first half of each year in San Francisco and the second half at the university in Lafayette, Louisiana, where he has taught a workshop every autumn. But in 1996, Gaines did spend a full semester as a visiting professor at the University of Rennes in France where he taught the first Creative Writing class ever offered in the French University system  Gaine  remains deeply rooted and he and his wife a home on part of the River Lake Plantation where he grew up.[ He has also had the church he grew up with moved to his property.

He has been open about what he most treasures from those days, “I was raised by a lady that was crippled all her life but she did everything for me and she raised me,” he wrote. “She washed our clothes, cooked our food, she did everything for us. I don’t think I ever heard her complain a day in her life. She taught me responsibility towards my brother and sisters and the community.””

Ernest Gaines has at least two ways in which he has walked the path of a man of letters, a race man and a son of Louisiana.  One part of his legacy is his work and life as a writer in residence, commercial success and regional celebrity. That must be taken into account in any assessment of his work and its impact on racial identity and politics. In that area he has been about the advance of his racial group as well as himself.  When I was at enrolled the university where Gaines taught I was never enrolled in one of his classes, I did however attend lectures he gave, two of which were hosted by Dr. Patricia Rickels, now deceased,  whom both of us knew very well and who was both in the English Department and head of the Honors Program to which I belonged.  I spoke to her and students who knew him well about him much more often than I spoke to him and I read his books and bought several although at a time when I often got books signed I never had his books signed nor asked him for anything that I recall except once for his plans for classes in the coming semester which I recall he did not much appreciate.  Gaines was a well dressed, disciplined man who was an intimidating physical specimen and more often in the national spotlight than anyone else in the Department when I was there. A strong academic, a strong son of Louisiana and a strong Black man – he was all those things.

The other side of Gaines is his writing itself. He preserved characters and scenes of White Creoles, Cajuns, Anglos and other people along with the African-American characters often described in ten different ways by use of the same “N word” now left out of some versions of Huckleberry Finn. The black people are humans with hopes, dreams, consciousness and aspiration. In A Gathering of Old Men, there is cowardice, backwardness, ignorance and folly portrayed with realism in the African-American Community. There is also courage, cleverness, hope and community as old men with shotguns having fired a shot face down the white supremacist Cajun establishment.  In the Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman there is failure and lack of achievement but also perseverance, a struggle for decency and a triumph of continuity.  In A Lesson Before Dyingthere is a bit of heavy-handed moralizing, racial philosophizing, and more Black assertiveness than anywhere else but there is real pathos, tender regard for life and law and compromise as people of all colors find them.  These are likely his most important works but not as revealing or upsetting to mainstream America as some of his lesser pieces.  I have always liked reading Gaines and found him fulfilling to read as well.  I once gave a copy of a Gaines novel, I believe it was Of Love and Dust to a friend and relative of mine, now deceased, who was a self-identified White Racist and asked the person to read it and get back to me. The response as best I recall it was, “That N***** can write. I really could hardly put the book down because it is story you feel. He knows and sees everything I do about N****** and he writes in a fully N*****ish fashion but he makes you think about what is right and how people should relate to each other because you know he is not afraid of the truth.”  Gaines has a unique voice, I doubt that friend would have read an entire book by many other Black writers and maybe none at all who wrote about Blacks chiefly.   Marcia Gaudet of the University of Louisiana’s Ernest Gaines center was quoted by a West Coast interviewer associate with the Stanford University where Gaines has long had ties and she said: “His literature is based on memory of the past, and it’s somewhat different from that of many African-American writers of the mid-20th century, who based their work on erasure of that past and moving their characters to Northern urban settings. Gaines was one of the first to go back and look at what the hardships were.” I pay tribute to Ernest Gaines here. But we all know that the arts alone will not save our society — they have an important part to play but it will no alone decide our fate.

The school shootings and other mass killings which Obama has loved to lump in together in his cries for gun control are not all racially motivated. The toll they take are also both real and significant. But so are all the acts of violence, disorder and depravity which destory our quality of Iife and do not involve a gun It is hard to see how the Rolling Stone cover of Dzokhar Tsarnaev helped to address the problem then or why  it helps that nobody can discuss the fact that police and much more so unarmed white citizens have been driven by violent and disorderly blacks for so much our American heritage in a sustained campaign of ethnic cleansing.. However, it does remind us of how real our social problems are today.  This is a society in crisis. I have a different perception of the Tsarnaev’s to add to the big picture of who they are which includes them being Muslim, Chechen, young, living in Boston and a dozen other realities that defined who these brothers were and who Dzokhar still is. But I want to think about their sense of ethnicity and identity and heritage in a society without very strong moorings in that regard. The alienation they felt led them to radical Islam and we have found a kindred and connected set of empathies in the recent cop-killers which is outlined in this post. Alienation and an inability to seriously understand diversity, federalism and sicuss one’s own background with those who surround one’s daily life — these are realities of American daily life.

If it is dangerous not to know one‘s self and it is dangerous not to know the world it is also more dangerous than some would think not to know the elements of one’s history as played by one’s neighbors. I am an Anglo-Acadian. I will not be discussing that heritage here as it relates to the Confederate heritage or American heritage but I have written of such things elsewhere .  The word Christian was first used in Syria. It makes all Christians weak that there are few Christians left there and a priest was beheaded and it was scarcely reported here.   We are living in a deadly blindness and are seeking a solution in trying to wipe out our own white supremacy for no particularly good reason – rather than trying to make it better. The Trayvon Martin movement is full of racist and violent blacks who want to control the country but not themselves. We are running out of time for a good plan.

Besides the Trayvon Martin protests, the bankruptcy of the City of Detroit and the collapse of al sense of a real legal system I have learned other things.  I learned them over a life which has been punctuated by crises before the current cop killings. I have made proposals here which seem radcial and far-fetched and even if they do not seems such have a small chance of success. But they are serious proposals. Such proposal have in large part come about from the realization that it is a demonstrable fact that cowardice, corruption and cruelty are normal in governance and yet fatal as well and those who live in such modes of what might be called evil often applaud themselves most loudly for doing their best. I know hard times loom large and am aware of the fact that life is without apparent justice in countless cases, but I am trying to be part of creating a plan for a better future. My model constitutions have already spelled out the answers I would propose. What I am asserting here is mostly that the course we have been on will not work and will not be survivable if continued.  Race and ethnicity must be faced and understood differently and that must happen soon. Doing it right will matter a lot.
I have decided to write most of everything I write from now on in preparation for the future which has stretched out so bleakly and horribly ahead of me for so long to be vastly worse than it has long been. I think that the time will be coming soon enough when I will sign off my web presence entirely but I will at least have written the things I will have wanted to say as the years of living hell extend into a limitless misery at least until death. I need to set a frame of reference I suppose, the person I respect the most among the living in the world today is me. That does not make me happy but it is the truth.

The truth of much policy and political philosophy is that it exists framed and living in a dialectic between that which must be done in a crisis and that which can be reasoned and properly debated in relative leisure during times not defined by a particularly urgent crisis.  Lives like those of Gaines and others do map out a path of the minds that must engage the crises in which we live. History well understood makes it possible to be better informed about what is possible in a the new time in which we live. But we must have the basic facts and realities of society clear enough for our decisions to possible matter .  The struggle of every society to formulate policy and then to put it into effect is one of the great themes of history although it may less often make its way into the titles of books or even their chapter headings. The truth is that most good historians telling most good and important histories have at least some interest in how the people of a given period discussed and intellectually prepared for a great historical crisis when it was incipient, developing and the then escalating. The activity during the time when the crisis is acute is not likely to produce original theoretical frameworks or innovative discussion which is really excellent. Instead those acting in the acute stage are often doing more than can be expected if they can reach for and apply the best theories and remedies which have been reasoned out and proposed in advance.

 

There is no shortage of information out and about which connects Islam to terror, here is such a post. The concern about how intense and intrinsic the basic disagreement with Islam may be is also something which has been discussed here and there online.  The first link given has John Quincy Adams expressing the awareness of a basic animosity in Islam itself. The second post shows how Sarah Palin feels that Iran is outside the pale of diplomacy and how this relates to Islamic governance there.

One of my Facebook friends who also purchased the house I was living in before recently moving into my grandparents old house has long published a string of posts about Islam and its history with the West. I publish one of those posts here. It is unattributed beyond him but the facts are more or less right — with the exception that Crusade is a Christian word and Jihad is the Muslim equivalent. I reproduce this post from a man whose names start with the initials P. P. only knowing that it is largely correct and also expresses the feelings of a real American in my own sphere of contact and influence:

“ISLAMIC CRUSADES
630 Muhammad conquers Mecca from his base in Medina.
632 Muhammad dies in Medina. Islam controls the Hijaz.
636 Muslims conquest of Syria, and the surrounding lands, all Christian – including Palestine and Babylonia/Mesopotamia (Iraq).
637 Muslim Crusaders conquer Iraq (some date it in 635 or 636).
638 Muslim Crusaders conquer and annex Jerusalem, taking it from the Byzantines.
638 – 650 Muslim Crusaders conquer Persia (Iran), except along Caspian Sea.
639 – 642 Muslim Crusaders conquer Egypt.
641 Muslim Crusaders control Syria and Palestine.
643 – 707 Muslim Crusaders conquer North Africa.
644 – 650 Muslim Crusaders conquer Cyprus, Tripoli in North Africa, and establish Islamic rule in Iran, Afghanistan, and Sindh.
673 – 678 Arabs besiege Constantinople, capital of Byzantine Empire.
691 Dome of the Rock is completed in Jerusalem, only six decades after Muhammad’s death.
710 – 713 Muslim Crusaders conquer the lower Indus Valley.
711 – 713 Muslim Crusaders conquer Spain and impose the kingdom of Andalus. The Muslim conquest moves into Europe.
718 Conquest of Spain complete.
732 Muslim invasion of France is stopped at the Battle of Poitiers / Battle of Tours. The Franks, under their leader Charles Martel (the grandfather of Charlemagne), defeat the Muslims and turn them back out of France.
762 Foundation of Baghdad.
785 Foundation of the Great Mosque of Cordova.
789 Rise of Idrisid amirs (Muslim Crusaders) in Morocco; Christoforos, a Muslim who converted to Christianity, is executed.
800 Autonomous Aghlabid dynasty (Muslim Crusaders) in Tunisia
807 Caliph Harun al—Rashid orders the destruction of non-Muslim prayer houses & of the church of Mary Magdalene in Jerusalem.
809 Aghlabids (Muslim Crusaders) conquer Sardinia, Italy.
813 Christians in Palestine are attacked; many flee the country.
831 Muslim Crusaders capture Palermo, Italy; raids in Southern Italy.
837 – 901 Aghlabids (Muslim Crusaders) conquer Sicily, raid Corsica, Italy, France.
869 – 883 Revolt of black slaves in Iraq.
909 Rise of the Fatimid Caliphate in Tunisia; these Muslim Crusaders occupy Sicily, Sardinia.
928 – 969 Byzantine military revival, they retake old territories, such as Cyprus (964) and Tarsus (969).
937 The Church of the Resurrection (aka Church of Holy Sepulchre) is burned down by Muslims; more churches in Jerusalem are attacked.
960 Conversion of Qarakhanid Turks to Islam.
969 Fatimids (Muslim Crusaders) conquer Egypt and found Cairo.
973 Palestine and southern Syria are again conquered by the Fatimids.
1003 First persecutions by al—Hakim; the Church of St. Mark in Fustat, Egypt, is destroyed.
1009 Destruction of the Church of the Resurrection by al—Hakim (see 937).
1012 Beginning of al—Hakim’s oppressive decrees against Jews and Christians.
1050 Creation of Almoravid (Muslim Crusaders) movement in Mauretania; Almoravids (aka Murabitun) are coalition of western Saharan Berbers; followers of Islam, focusing on the Qur’an, the Hadith, and Maliki law.
1071 Battle of Manzikert, Seljuk Turks (Muslim Crusaders) defeat Byzantines and occupy much of Anatolia.
1071 Turks (Muslim Crusaders) invade Palestine.
1073 Conquest of Jerusalem by Turks (Muslim Crusaders).
1075 Seljuks (Muslim Crusaders) capture Nicea (Iznik) and make it their capital in Anatolia.
1076 Almoravids (Muslim Crusaders) (see 1050) conquer western Ghana.
1086 Almoravids (Muslim Crusaders) (see 1050) send help to Andalus, Battle of Zallaca.
1090 – 1091 Almoravids (Muslim Crusaders) occupy all of Andalus except Saragossa and Balearic Islands.

START OF WESTERN CRUSADES
Only after all of the Islamic aggressive invasions is when Western Christendom launches its first Crusades.

1094 Byzantine emperor Alexius Comnenus I asks western Christendom for help against Seljuk (Muslim Turks) invasions of his territory.
1095 Pope Urban II preaches first Crusade; they capture Jerusalem in 1099.”

 

So now I conclude, what do we expect or want to happen if America does not face the facts of being eroded and interpreted into a position where it cannot respond. People like our President tend to believe that the Christianity among Blacks emerged as a sort of covert Islam. There is an element of truth in that. But all Christianity brings forth the culture of those who embrace the faith. In addition not all slaves came to the new world with Islamic roots and not all converts were slaves. We have much to do and honestly not much chance of of doing it. But our national future hangs in the balance.

The Planned Parenthood Videos, Theater Shootings and Stress

 

I am sure that anyone who stumbles along here will be able to relate to being and feeling stressed. I have felt stressed dealing with this  blog post today. Little and not so small computer errors and glitches have made life difficult as I have been engaged in this process.

But there are  other reasons to  be stressed that come from beyond our own lives. Many Americans of very different persuasions are disturbed by undercover video of doctors with Planned Parenthood discussing slaughtering late term fetuses  babies and selling their part on demand. Disagreement over what it all means still goes on and the United States Senate failed to pass a bill to defund Planned Parenthood but clearly a lot of people are aware of these videos and concerned about what they mean about the state of our society. The reader here can get a view of these thoughts about the videos from a couple of links provided in this article.Planned Parenthood videos as discussed in the Daily Beast are  here. Planned Parenthood Videos as discussed in the realm of the Christian Broadcasting Network are here.

We all know that family love and  motherhood itself as a symbol and  fact of welcoming and nurturing matter  a great deal to the species and to society. All of the child sacrificing cults, infanticide regimes and abortion programs of human history have not changed the fact that people still know these are sacred and important matters that deserve care and consideration. We are right to worry about what parenthood and its plannning look like in the world and in our country.

Hindelang Gulf Mary &Naomi

 

Americans especially want things to not be too terrible we ant to believe that even that worst events are isolated and unrelated to other problems that we might have.  In my writing on the recent theater shooting in Lafayette I took a view that this was not an act of random psychotic rage. You can see that post here. But it is hard to say what to make of all of this connected ness between tragedies.

There was a family in which two sisters were caught up in the shooting at the Grand Theater.  One was an EMT responding to the incident when she saw her uninjured sister responding to other people covered in blood herself. The sister was a swim instructor who was trained in first aid and CPR and was helping out. You can see their story here. This family has become one of the local symbols for hope and courage in this area.  Now the people  who were at the heart of this part of the story have lost a third sibling, their brother took his own life yesterday after posting a cryptic assumed suicide not on Facebook. He also seemed angry at people who were attacking him in some way. I am leaving out the words and his name to protect some privacy but I have read the note.

The sign that is a feature of the city announcing showtimes is dark

The sign that is a feature of the city announcing showtimes is dark

Did a family that was a symbol of hope in stressful times come under attack from some amorphous source of stress in which real people who are our enemies might have a part? Did someone see a weakness in the brother and exploit it to bring down this symbol of resistance to the madness in the world?

It could happen without the brother knowing it. Nobody has the resources to investigate such subtleties. In America it is more or less a religion to mock much more obvious connections.

Stress propagates across society in complex ways.  Is it possible to pretend that such stress is not always random. Many people seek to create stress and direct it and we all know that to be true. Conspiracies abound in the real world and not just in derided theories. The world is a dangerous and stressful place. My belief is that we can build a better future if we accept that nightmares do lurk around us than if we make it a false matter of faith that they do not.

Snakes and other issues complicate my life

Snakes and other issues complicate my life

Not everything that threatens us is evil and not everything that is evil directly threatens us. But we cannot afford to live in a world of our imagining. It would be nice if horrible things did not happen — but they do. We all have to decide how to deal with that reality day in and day out.

Christmas is a Coming and a 2016 Presidential Preview

An image showing the basis of all this Christmas celebration.

An image showing the basis of all this Christmas celebration.

It is still a bit too early but “Merry  Christmas and  Happy New Year!”  This post mixes Christmas wishes with political discussions. That is surely not every one’s cup of tea. It is not always mine. But this blog combines such themes as they are combined in the passage of time in my life. This blog post is another one of those. In some ways it is perhaps an admission that neither  one’s Christmassing nor one’s political life are all that they should be. I have been opposing much of Obama’s agenda in this blog and it certainly seems to have slipped back a few notches in the most recent election.  This Christmas we as Americans can see that the world is in flux. We can hope to find our way forward through these holidays and the coming year without a great catastrophe but we can also know that there are crises afloat and afoot. Americans can find some solace in the stresses endured by the Holy Family on that first Christmas.

Mom with a Christmas tree in a previous year. Today she is scheduled to buy a tree.

Mom with a Christmas tree in a previous year. Today she is scheduled to buy a tree.

I have not had an exemplary early Christmas and Advent and by some measures I am spoiling whatever moral or religious value it had be sharing it with you. This year I made some new ornaments to replace the missing ones in the old set my parents hang on the Jesse tree which is one of the only objects I still have from when I was married. I also put a few dollars into the Salvation Army kettles out and about, donated a few gifts to the toys programs at dollar stores and discount stores  and posted a bit about Advent. I also went to religious services and participated in the Advent rituals around the wreath and Jesse tree at home.

The celebration of Christmas rates some substantial coverage on the White House’s official website. You can link to some of that coverage here. Wikipedia takes note of the White House Christmas tree tradition here.  So, perhaps mixing up the elements of a Christmas blog post and an early presidential politics blog post is not such an odd idea after all.

Santa Claus is a powerful Christmas symbol in America today.  Santa is certainly part of the landscape of my holiday.

Santa Claus is a powerful Christmas symbol in America today. Santa is certainly part of the landscape of my holiday.

 

Even for a conservative Catholic Christian like me it is getting closer to the time when one might say “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year”. I have used the word “Advent” in two blog posts (as well as the word Christmas in one of them). None of these posts have been as seasonal as some other I have posted here, here and here in previous years. It is also early be discussing the Presidential election of 2016 but  I am doing that as well.

We all have images of what leadership should look like which are not simple portrayals of reality.

We all have images of what leadership should look like which are not simple portrayals of reality.

 

The reality of our political life is such that the Presidency is currently our biggest symbol and most important feature of our political life. What we have in our society is a dearth of many of the symbols of the cohesion and sharing of our social values with one another in the way that a great holiday can unite a nation and a society. So Christmas and its presidential aspects have a lot to do with our awareness of ourselves as a people and as a society that stands out as existing in some real way in the world. With ISIS executing American hostages almost continually, Russia flying more military sorties than it has since the Soviet Union was at the height of its Cold War assertiveness, the North Koreans mobilizing large cyber resources against us and real decay of US stature in Europe we are either likely to say what does our Christmas unity matter or we are likely to say that the unity we express is not the most important national concern. That is of course unless we are like millions of Americans who have very little concern for foreign policy. It is also true that some of us think of Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Mankind as a particularly relevant sentiment in times like these. The Angels greeting which came with that sentiment at the first Christmas was joined to their adoration, “Glory to God in the Highest!” Many Americans will be going to a variety of churches to honor God as they celebrate Christmas. Others will go to other places of worship to celebrate other holidays – including Chanukah which is a holiday Jesus’s family would have known. But Nativity scenes and even Christmas trees have become a set of lightning rods in the controversies about Christmas in public life. That discussion in return has become a big part of the discussion of religious expression in public life. What Presidential contenders will think about faith is increasingly a political issue that can be seen from many points of controversy.

Me in a shot by one of the proprietors on my phone as I walked into the Donors Dinner.

Me in a shot by one of the proprietors on my phone as I walked into the Donors Dinner.

While the President plays the role he does in pardoning turkeys, lighting the National Christmas tree and seeking to embrace a holiday theme that resonates with the nation it is not impossible to think of the Presidency of the United States as part of our Christmas landscape. When we do there is a sense of the way that our society does and does not function which forms part of our  vision of both the holidays and the politics of our nation. So who is likely to be the next President of the United States of America?

 

 

Christmas has long been a political and legal battlefield. The assault on Christmas has been part of the story but so has the defense of Christmas in public life. In the chart featured below which may still have some currency even though I believe it is based on data from before the 2014 Congressional elections we have two Republican contenders for the Presidency in 2016 who have about equal shares of prospective primary votes. One is Mike Huckabee who regardless of what he might say if asked about Christmas is a former Protestant Christian ordained minister who clearly has a likelihood wanting to keep the tradition of honoring the birth of Christ as a nation.  The other is Rand Paul who, regardless of what he might say about Christmas is deeply committed to a libertarian point of view and politics. Such libertarians often find themselves in alliance with Atheists, some other religious groups and liberals of particular strip in undermining America’s traditional Christian holidays.

Early December 2014?

Early December 2014?

There is a lot of shaking out to do if these numbers mean any thing before any Republican can claim the nomination.  But it does indicate perhaps the streams of thought that are shaping the country as regards finding a religious root for values expressed by America’s  “right” in politics.

What then about the left? Where does the other side of American  political energy come down on our connecting with the roots of Christianity.  Unlike the possible GOP nominees, Hillary Clinton has tended to tower over her challengers for the 2016 Democratic nomination. Some people are saying that candidates like Elizabeth Warren are poised to show explosive growth but it would take a lot of growth to challenge  Clinton in the primary.

Joe Lieberman who ran with Al Gore was not a Christian but a Jew who seemed to tolerate a good deal of public Christmas. Mitt Romney belonged to what most scholars consider to be a post-Christian religion but it is one that celebrates Christmas as an American holiday and the birth festival of Jesus Christ. Many presidents have been devout Christians: Washington, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Eisenhower, Jimmy Carter, Woodrow Wilson, John Kennedy and half a dozen others are clearly men who in my opinion must be seen as Christians entirely. Whatever they did not achieve of the Christian ideal is not because they did not adhere to that faith and religion. Richard Nixon was reared as a Quaker and (though many American Quakers seem pretty much to be Christians) Quakers as a whole are not a Christian faith but one which grew up among Christians.  It is hard to say what Nixon was when he was President. With men like Abraham Lincoln, Thomas Jefferson and  a few others it hard to say where they stood in terms of religious classification and identity.

So that brings me to Clinton. She is a favorite enemy of the Christian Right and other religious people in American politics and she may well deserve it. She has a background which is mostly verifiable: Clinton was reared a Methodist Protestant Christian, belonged to a Senate Prayer Group and has spoken at Prayer Breakfasts.  Her profile may seem different to American atheists than to most other people. Here is an atheist site evaluating Clinton’s background and religious values.  It is hard to know how  she would deal with Christmas.

 

Early December 2014? Whenever this is it is Clinton's race to lose at that moment.

Early December 2014?
Whenever this is it is Clinton’s race to lose at that moment.

Christmas and even religion are important but most religious people realize that religion connects to how they see all the world and does so in complicated ways. Real issues like how to evaluate science, how to evaluate ethical policies and how to make peace are informed by our religious background, point of view and  activity. We see this with political issues from funding homeless shelters, to stem cell research to the use of enhanced interrogation techniques. But it goes beyond that.

I am a Christian and many of my blog posts are explicitly Christian.  But my thoughts about science are in connection with my religious thought. So my scientific areas of discussion do seek or do have a harmony with my faith. Here, here and here are some examples.  So my choices of how to use resources here and elsewhere are in connection to my religious values. I do accept and embrace pluralism in America. I see a kind of pluralism in America and the structure of the universe.

The truth about all of life is that it is a bit interactive and interactive and multifocal.  That means that what we do affects what  we see done and there are many other active people and forces creating the continuous drama that is the universe, playing out the great game — or whatever other metaphor might work for you.  Increasingly one  may disagree with what the meaning of different part of the drama or game may mean, how much they will matter or who should care. For example some scientist are feeling sure that they have just recently  found the key to working out the meaning and structure of dark matter in the universe.

I am very interested in Astronomy but probably my use of space exploration money would place low priority on this research until  a better theoretical framework was developed. That also has something to do with Christmas. So Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Whether or not you are a Christian or an American I think the American experience of the holiday has something to say to us all. Chinese New Year and Chanukah are different indeed but they also represent a reaching for unity, meaning, celebration and often family.  Not just a reaching for money, power and resources. A society with no spiritual moorings seems very close to shipwreck to me. I hope we will never see America in such a condition.

 

Big Weekend Dates 13, 14 & 15 of June 2014

I am having a party on Friday the 13th if people show up — I am the honoree but not the host nor the one managing an RSVP list. I have been to far more birthday parties than the average person. Extended family and also friends for many years although not lately.  So it is a part of my life which from time to time involves my own anniversary of birth.

My grandmother's 90th birthday

My grandmother’s 90th birthday

I have grown poorer over the year and my number of connections bigger but I try to at least mark the occasion of a birthday party as best I can. I believe in them as it were. The future, the past and the presents are brought together in some kind of celebration.

Alyse's Birthday 003The level of commemoration is not always the same and it is true that I do not always stay to the end of the ones I go to anymore. Such is life but they still mark a life, an occasion and remember a mother’s always heroic act of giving birth in our memories in a subtle but real way.

??????????????

I suppose that this is the occasion when we reach out to a whole person and  their family and do not focus on a shared holiday, on an achievement like a graduation or on a relationship based status like motherhood or fatherhood.

L'Angelus & Naomi BDY 280 collage

 Friday the thirteenth is also a scary day for many on which most people in America would probably not plan a party. I suppose that  birthday parties are from a certain point of view always signs of proven blessing and good fortune.

I have already discussed my birthday as it relates to turning fifty and also the fact that my cousin Billy will be ordained a deacon on the 14th of June. Those facts are at least briefly reviewed in this recent post. But the fourteenth is also the birthday of Wang Guang-rong on of my associates in China who I think about often enough. It is also true that it is always Flag Day.  I do love the American flag. I have been careful in displaying it but  also have displayed it in plenty of places  where it was seldom seen.  Those and other facts will distinguish the date for me every year.

The fifteenth is Father’s Day and I have dealt with my Fathers Day in a recent post already cited.  So I will mention a few more occasions it is also Tasso Smith’s birthday. real name Carl Tasso Smith IV is a vocalist and  guitarist for Youngblood Hawke which is a band developed in San Antonio, Texas which  in its first few years with a record  deal has appeared on all of the top four broadcast television networks, sold it themes to numerous commercial and entertainment entities and has generated a lot of buzz and attention for it crafted and somewhat artsy rock sound.  Tasso is my first cousin the son of Carl Tasso Smith III  who has been many things and has many skills but has long earned his keep in the family agribusiness concern which is a major producer of peas. Tasso’s  mother is my father’s youngest sister Beverly Summers Smith, who goes by the name Missi Smith and under that name has produced, shown and sold many works of art. Tasso graduated from Alamo Heights High School and earned a Bachelor of Science in environmental Science at Texas A&M University–Corpus Christi. He lives in Los Angeles, California as of 2014 and retains ties to San Antonio, Texas. He spent quite a bit of time in Louisiana with family and on his family’s farm. His sister’s Brooke and Leah form the remainder of his birth and nurture nuclear family although he is now an uncle and has a serious relationship with Whitney Ullom. This information could be a bit off.

My birthday is also the fifth anniversary of the death of my maternal grandmother Beverlee Hollier Gremillion. I cannot do full justice to her life in this post not the reality of her absence. But I do need to organize some information about her in this blog eventually.

two of my grandparents

two of my grandparents

She preceded my grandfather in death by almost five years. But most of my life they were almost inseparable. The good times and the bad were all memorable and her home was a center for both, We were pretty close as such things go and I have countless memories of her.

Kissinoaks,the Home of my Maternal Grandparents

Kissinoaks,the Home of my Maternal Grandparents

She was a very accomplished cook, could manage a household staff, was a good storyteller, painted and decorated and beautified in any number of media in a number of venues she owned which were seen by many. But her family was the center of her life.

Kisinoaks constr

It will be easy to find times on this busy day to remember Mamon  during all the other things that happen that day. I surely will do so.

My grandparents have Kissinoaks blessed

My grandparents have Kissinoaks blessed

 

I know that a good many people will remember her that day as well. It is an important part of my journey of fifty years that I journeyed with her for a good while. I am sure others feel similar things.

Moving houses has continued as a family tradition since Kissinoaks to where I am typing this.

Moving houses has continued as a family tradition since Kissinoaks to where I am typing this.

So when the weekend ends I will get back to my life and routine I hope although I hope it may improve. But certainly there will be plenty to fill my thoughts this weekend. I am simply facing the reckoning of half a century and not feeling very good about the future, But beyond my life there are many other events going on around and near me.

The world always goes on around family events and sometimes they get a bit of notice.

The world always goes on around family events and sometimes they get a bit of notice.

 

 

 

 

More on the Model Constitution of Louisiana

There have been some problems with page placement and those have been resolved but may have caused problems with old links. For the most recent page to be posted int his Model Constitution of Louisiana so far go to:
https://franksummers3ba.wordpress.com/major-themes-of-this-blog/new-model-constitution-of-the-united-states-of-america/model-constitution-of-the-kingdom-of-the-state-of-louisiana-part-one/model-constitution-of-the-kingdom-of-the-state-of-louisiana-part-twelve/

The Passing of Beverly Miller Summers Videographed

This post is about the wake, funeral and burial video of my grandmother who died on March 27, 2012. It is part of her memorial in this blog.

I have been slacking off on posting for many reasons since this was first posted and videos are harder to find as the software finds me less active but the one you want is Gammie’s Paschal Passing and should be at the link below. as well as through the title. You can also drag the link below into your browser.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WtAOzrfZO9c

Also see the rest of the list.