Sometimes we Southerners get told that we “talk funny†— that we use outdated words and phrases, that we speak too slow or too low, that we just plain can’t be understood. And I get it: I’ve …
–For some reason, I thought life always got better.
Alice Hoffman  in “Survival Lessonsâ€
I did, too, Alice.   Until it didn’t.
This kind of thinking is irrational; I do know that.  The headlines scream pain and misery at me  daily.  Friends succumb to  terrifying disease, floods threaten, jobs are lost. But somehow..it’s not about me.  Not this time.  Until it is.
My thoughts crash in on me.  Is this the “new normal?†Will things  ever get better?  Or will they get worse?  Much worse?  The truth is,  no one knows.
But this I do know.  Increasingly my quality of life does not depend on what seemed so important  when I was in the midst of family and career responsibilities;  my street address, my bank account, who and what I knew,   my outward appearance.  Now what matters is my inner wealth: my friends, family,  my faith.  I am blessed that  I have learned to value solitude,  that  I have friends I can tell the truth, who will give me a hug and not judge or try to fix me.  I have learned to value simple things;   long walks in nature, afternoon naps  with a  small warm-tummy dog,  spring blossoms, the aroma of bread baking.
I have choices.  My pain, my trial, whatever it is – is not ALL of my life and never will be.  No matter where life lands me I can always choose where  to go in my mind.
And who knows.  It  could get better!
Hoffman, Alice (2013). Survival Lessons, Algonquin Books, Kindle Edition.
Possibly Louisiana’s most famous artist,  Clementine Hunter was born in 1886 at Hidden Hill Plantation and spent most of her life at nearby Melrose Plantation  in the  Cane River region in Louisiana owned  by John and Carmelite (“Miss Cammieâ€) Henry She worked as a field hand and was proud she could pick 250 pounds  a day  (a single cotton boll weighs about 0.15 oz).  She  bore seven children and on the morning before giving birth to one of them, picked 78 pounds of cotton.
In middle age, Miss Cammie brought Clementine into the Big House to cook and clean. There  she met Alberta Kinsey, a New Orleans artist who inspired Clementine to paint.  In her words, ”
“..in the 1930s Alberta Kinsey came here…to paint and I had to
Melrose Plantation quilt, Clementine Hunter
clean up her room. She gave me some old tubes of paint to throw in the trash, but I didn’t pay her no mind. I kept them and tried marking up some pictures in my cabin.”
Hunter painted what she  knew; plantation life in the early 20th century.  Although records were not kept,  she may have produced as  many as 10,000 works on canvas, bottles, boards, jugs, spittoons, lampshades and whatever else captured her fancy.   She also  produced quilts, pottery and needlepoint.  Many were originally sold for a few dollars or less.  Neither she nor any of her children ever  owned any of her paintings – she either sold them or gave them away.
Clementine Hunter achieved significant recognition during her lifetime, including a letter from  President Ronald Reagan and an invitation to the White House from U.S. President Jimmy Carter (which she declined). She was the first African-American artist to have a solo exhibition at the Delgado Museum (now the New Orleans Museum of Art) . Radcliffe College included her in its “Black Women Oral History Project (1980).  Northwestern State University of Louisiana granted her an honorary Doctor of Fine Arts degree in 1986 and Louisiana governor Edwin Edwards designated her  a state honor. One of the more well-known displays of Hunter’s artwork is located in African House at Melrose Plantation.
African House, Clementine Hunter
Clementine Hunter died on January 1, 1988 at the age of 101,  outliving most of her children.   She never learned to read or write and taught herself to paint.
“Look at all MY Valentimes!  (That’s what she called them, “Valentimes.”)  She opened her little heart-shaped box made specially to hold them to reveal her huge stash of sparkling red and white cards. “How many did YOU get?” she chimed, smiling sweetly.
Pretty Girl, Cheryl Hicks
I didn’t need anything to carry my valentines in. I may have gotten a dozen or so, if you count the mercy ones from my gramma and my cousins. Mortified, I could hardly wait for the whole thing to be over. But unfortunately for the next 11 years of my life, on February 14, this painful ritual would an annual ordeal.  Keeping score became less obvious, but not less brutal, when we reached high school. And if you grew up in a small town as I did, you will know that the little people you hid from in first grade followed you all the way to graduation. So as the Senior Valentine’s Day Dance approached, my little nemesis, now blossomed into a teenage version of her adorable six- year old self, had another embarrassing question.
Musings from the Silent Generation
“Who’s taking YOU to the Valentine’s Ball?” My only hope for an escort, as she well knew, was my younger cousin whom I could have bullied into going, but he danced as though he were shoveling hay. I stayed home.
Valentines Day can be brutal. And not just for kids. What’s more, it is no longer confined to a day; it lasts at least a month. This year valentines were on the shelves December 26! And until February 15, we will be badgered by advertisers trying to convince men that they will be permanently branded uncivilized jerks if they do not spring for  jewelry and chocolate. Not just chocolate, but EXPENSIVE chocolate.  A Whitman’s Sampler from Walgreens is not going to do it.   AND jewelry from the “right” kind of jewelry store.  But, just to make things easy,  you can purchase your jewelry embedded in a box of chocolate— in the shape of a valentine.  Ladies, in turn, are harassed by weight loss plans, fitness gurus and boutiques to shed those last shameful pounds so they can fit into that “little red dress” they need to show off their expensive jewelry at the Valentine’s Day galas. I have no idea who eats the chocolate.
I don’t think this is what St. Valentine had in mind. I am pretty sure he would be appalled to find his name associated with little red and white cards and boxes of chocolate given that his sainthood came at the expense of being stoned to death! Â No one seems to know exactly how this distorted imagery evolved. But once the greeting card companies came along, well..you know the rest. And not only greeting cards; a search for “Valentines” on Amazon will bring up over two million items for your shopping pleasure, including a four-foot teddy bear.
Vintage Valentine’s Day Postcard, Creative Commons
But in spite of it all, I do celebrate Valentine’s Day — in a minimalist sort of way. My husband and I exchange cards, but when the prices hit $6, we started reusing them. We send cards to the grandchildren, even though I’m pretty sure the older ones discard them immediately after pocketing the money. We do not buy chocolate, and especially not from jewelry stores. And we NEVER go to Valentines Day galas. We have had our fill of surfing parking lots, standing in lines, and eating tepid banquet food. We open our dog-eared, recycled cards and watch a movie. It’s wonderful. The days of competing for Valentines Day chocolate, jewelry, and escorts are gone forever.
Meanwhile, back in First Grade, the Valentines Games continue.  And now social media has been added to the mix.  My mind boggles at the thought of my little tormenter, her smartphone at the ready, armed with the information of my valentine deficiencies. So  little psyches are once again bruised and little princesses dream of becoming Queen of the Valentines Day Ball.
I’ll keep sending cards to the grandkids, especially the little ones, just in case.
Photography from Flickr Creative Commons. Â Pretty Girl: Cheryl Hicks, Musings from the Silent Generation: Â leakytr8; Â Vintage Valentines Postcard: riptheskull.
Marie Therese Coincoin, Artist Interpretation from Geni.com
Marie Therese Coincoin is truly a Southern Original.  Her life story is surprisingly little known, and yet so amazing as to be incredulous.   In the words of her biographer (1) Coincoin was “born a slave … and became an independent black woman in a world dominated by white men. She adapted successfully to all the situations that life presented to her; from being the concubine and housekeeper of a rich white man, she became a profitable farmer and businesswoman in her own right.â€
“She was born a slave and became an independent black woman in a world dominated by white men.
This was a woman  born at the lowest rung of her society, who endured deprivation, injustice and hardship, not the least of which was her absolute lack of freedom.  Unfortunately, she left no written record, but nothing in the historical records suggest that she faced formidable challenges with anything but courage and grace.
Marie Therese Coincoin was born a slave  in Nachitoches, La in August, 1742.  She lost her parents to the plague when she was 16 and was taken into the household of her godmother, Marie de Soto.  During this period, she had five children with a fellow slave.  When she was 24 she was “loaned” to Pierre Metoyer, recently arrived wealthy French merchant .  Over the next 20 years she lived in the house with Metoyer and born him 10 children.  In 1777, a Spanish Priest denounced her as a “public concubine” and ordered her out of Metoyer’s home.  This prompted Madame deSoto, who still owned Marie Therese to finally sell her to Metoyer,  who bought her freedom as well as that of their 10 children who were slaves of the deSoto family.  Marie Therese, Metoyer and their children lived together in apparent financial and family stability for the next decade, although she was unable to free her three oldest children.  However Metoyer  eventually  succumbed to public pressure to marry a “suitable” French woman.
Cane River, Nachitoches, LaMelrose Plantation, (Photo: Henrietta Wildsmith/The Times)
We know nothing of her reaction to the ending of their relationship, however, we can only imagine the pain of this betrayal.  However,  in parting, Metoyer gave her a yearly annuity and a plot of land  on the banks of Cane River, which allowed her finally to be independent.  She built a house, farmed tobacco, raised cattle and trapped bears, and slowly accumulated more land.  Because of this size of her businesses, she eventually  took on slaves  to work her land.  Again, we can only imagine her sentiments at becoming a slaveowner after having gained her own freedom at such a price.  By some accounts, she did this in a desperate attempt to free her remaining enslaved children and grandchildren. Sadly, she was never able to free all of her children.
Melrose Wash House Wikipedia Commons
Over time Marie Therese’s family became the leading family of Isle Brevelle, a thriving community of “gens de couleur libre”, free people of color;  business people, plantation and slave owners.    Cane River’s famous Melrose Plantation  was built by her son Louis over the period
1810-1832.   Melrose was completed by Louis’ son Jean Baptiste after Louis’ death. When Jean Baptiste died in 1838, the Melrose estate was valued at over $100,000. The Metoyer family owned Melrose Plantation from 1796 until 1847. http://bit.ly/1OCe35
(1) African American National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2008
 Most of my New Year’s Resolutions  over the years haven’t lasted past the last winter’s frost.  So last year I  finally decided to avoid the guilt and let myself off the hook (Post 1/1/15).
But it didn’t feel quite right.  It isn’t just that New Year’s resolutions are a tradition, like the ball on Times Square on New Year’s Eve.  There’s something more.  Writing  new year’s resolutions requires that I take the time to  thoughtfully review the past year and to look forward into the new one.  Each resolve is the hope to become something better than I am.  This brand new year will provide fresh opportunities to be a kinder, more compassionate, more balanced person.  In this new year there will be times to smile more; to be more playful and less anxious; ways to spend more energy on the people in my life and less on the“busyness†of life.  To forgive more and worry less.
So this year I’m giving it another try.  Maybe I’ll be more successful this time.  But  even if my resolutions last only three months; three weeks, or three days, it will be  time well spent. Happy New Year!
Possibly Louisiana’s most famous artist,  Clementine Hunter was born in 1886 at Hidden Hill Plantation and spent most of her life at nearby Melrose Plantation  in the  Cane River region in Louisiana owned  by John and Carmelite (“Miss Cammieâ€) Henry She worked as a field hand and was proud she could pick 250 pounds  a day  (a single cotton boll weighs about 0.15 oz).  She  bore seven children and on the morning before giving birth to one of them, picked 78 pounds of cotton.
 Most of my New Year’s Resolutions  over the years haven’t lasted past the last winter’s frost.  So last year I  finally decided to avoid the guilt and let myself off the hook (Post 1/1/15).