Biloxi Redeux

I decided to visit Pam and Gene again before making the long trek back to California, so with

a new headlight in place I was travelling east along the coast once more. I arrived to hear the news that Gene had been promoted and was busy sewing his new stripes on his uniforms. My visit with them put my vagabond existence into perspective – I too needed to get to work on with whatever life lay ahead for me, this adventure had begun to lose its carefree jauntiness and the need for direction and purpose began to rear its ugly head. How to pursue my interests and give them some kind of substance? I wasn’t involved with anyone then, getting married to transition away from home was not an option. I wasn’t trained for any career. I knew making art would always be a part of my life - but only part. I needed another intermediary state, a place where I could be on my own but still buffered from ’life’. I needed to buy a little more time. The answer for me was the same as for so many others - apply to grad school. So back I headed, my final week of freewheeling and freeloading a hazy blur of passing scenery, road signs and friendly faces, my focus directed towards the Western horizon. I didn’t know it then, but I would be headed east again in less than a year to begin building my own life, this time to the Midwest and Iowa - as unlikely a place to me then as Marrakesh.

New Orleans

From Natchez I drove south, deciding to bypass Uncle Charlie and visit him later after seeing some of New Orleans. I had been there a few years before when driving cross country with a friend, taking her new VW back to CA. We had stayed in the Harriet Beecher Stowe ‘corn cob’ house, which was a bit rundown and thus easy on the wallet but had plenty of atmosphere and was smack dab in the French Quarter, where we planned to visit as many bars as possible. We did well in that department and lived to tell the tale; this time around I didn’t have the need to down

‘Hurricanes’ with the same gusto. I met up

with Kaye, who was staying in some fancy

hotel in the quarter with the sorority uppity-ups.

I described events in a postcard home

Baton Rouge

Postcard #3 Dec 6

New Orleans really

Well did make it to New Orleans LSU ФM alums all around 23-24 took Kay & I out on town a little – kind of Quiet talk stuff – seafood on lake Ponchtrain & drinks in Court of Two Sisters & revival music at Preservation Hall – I ended up staying with one (apt in New Orleans) while Kay was in Hotel – Ritzy French Quarter w/ national bigwigs met them etc – had a good evening as was a little tired of all the driving & motel jazz & wanted to see some more of new Orleans – so Sat was slow & touristy – also cheap as dinner on ФM really nice – Sun drove back to Baton Rouge & Uncle Charles- nice – will paint & relax for a few days – need some quiet & non college jazz – also fix my headlight – doesn’t work – hope it isn’t expensive –Connie

Back with Uncle Charlie I relaxed and spent much of my time in the kitchen chatting w/ him and painting from the quick sketches I had made while out and about in New Orleans, I made arrangements for my car, getting the light fixed, an oil change, and a check up. Luckily I did draw that while waiting around at the car place. And I was relieved that the tab wasn’t too pricey.

I worried about my aging Uncle who was 76 then – driving himself around, being alone, and yet he lived another 10 or 12 years. From my 62 year old point of view now, he wasn’t really that old - but when I was 22, he seemed quite doddering.

Athens Georgia to Memphis to Natchez

From Tennessee I traveled down to Athens, Georgia and Alpha Alpha – the first founding chapter of my sorority.
There I had time to write a nice long letter home.
- yes well I picked a winner tonite – Georgia wonder chapter Alpha Alpha – whoopee-do big 100 members & 65 living in but not real exciting types – Alabama girls had far more zip – these chicks are what makes everybody shun sororities I guess – of course there are some nice ones but generally nothing spectacular – house is gorgeous Sothern Mansion whole bit w/ old high ceilinged living rooms etc like in movies but kinda musty all over – dirty old like - & rooms are poor set up for living – 4 girls to each bunk beds & cramped tiny – but have to cram them as House is expensive – noticed several large rooms being little used – but that’s their problem – had to see what this chapter was like but kinda wish I’d gone back to Atlanta or Gainesville – haven’t seen them yet – tomorrow perhaps…one thing for Georgia – even though the sororities are quantity and not quality the countryside is beautiful I really like it – the leaves are still in process of turning everywhere & all those grassy green clearings & wooded hills & rocks are neat – Louisiana is pretty green too but too flat for my taste – most of the states are beautiful in their own way

I was travelling through the land of ‘Uncle Remus’ and Faulkner, Harper Lee and Carson McCullers, a lush landscape oozing literary tradition at every turn , where any day could become a ‘zip-a-dee-do-dah day’. After another night at Bama I headed up to Memphis to visit the sorority’s national headquarters, for no particular reason, like most of my destinations on this trip just decided to up and go there, didn’t expect much and was not disappointed so off I headed back down, stopping in at Ol’ Miss to park for the night. Lonely for camaraderie, which I wasn’t finding there, I headed south wanting to see some scenery and drive along the Mississippi river. I planned to take a look at Vicksburg battlefield - having been a Civil War buff – It was such a beautiful park overlooking the river it made my day, markers diagramming gun placements and noting the death tolls seemed out of place in such a gorgeous spot - awash in fall colors where once it had been bathed in blood. Were it not so rainy I would have sketched more and followed the trace parkways criss-crossing every which way, but instead worked my way down river to Natchez and a motel. Cold and rain quashed any plans to drive around and gander at plantations. I got a bit lonely that night with the rain pelting down outside and was ready to head south and be with friends again. I followed highway 61 south the next morning towards New Orleans.

Biloxi Mississippi

A short 2 ½ hour drive took me along the gulf coast to Biloxi Mississippi, where I was to look up a newly married sorority friend whose husband had been drafted and was training at the base there. They lived in vintage army housing much like my young parents did in 1945 - strange surroundings far from home. My parent’s war was against Hitler – they were fighting the ‘good fight’ – so unlike the Viet-Nam war of 1971, which cast a shadow across the land, bearing with it a constant threat of a purposeless death in a strange place. The young couples in Biloxi distracted themselves much the same as my parents must have, with training and work, partying and booze - making the best of an awkward situation and an uncertain future. My stay with them was idyllic; we basked in the sun, laughed and avoided adulthood for just a little while longer.
I write home –

Gang 11/22/71
Well have been w/ Pam & gene for 2 days now – quite a different life – they have a place right across the street from the gulf – ocean view but trees and grass around their bungalow – of course the place dates back to WWI but the setting is beautiful – they are pretty happy – much more so than most of the young couples out here – of course there is the period of adjustment for them & the added problems of the guys having to cope with being in the service – but very nice for air force – i.e. (with the) BX everything is cheap plus will all get pay raise in month like $2 or 300 more a month – they don’t have to live on base or dress up and be soldiers all the time – in fact only 6 hrs a day – 30 hr week no less – this Biloxi spot is a training center for radar etc stuff & most are in transit to another place – hard to have knowledge that you will be moved yet no idea where – well Gene found out they are to be sent to Pt. Arena Calif. – about 20 miles south of good old Mendocino right on the ocean – not bad. They are going to continue to live cheaply like now & the extra money will go in the bank & finance as Datzun 240-Z as the only car they have now is Pam’s 62 VW.

The life here is difficult – so they get together often borrowing mops, sugar, etc. Pam said that they got one of the nicest apts – a good air conditioner & refrigerator – other couples have the good stove or couch or whatever. Biloxi is also a seat of Jefferson Davis Home – must have been quite a place in his day – a beautiful area down here except for the muggy summers and hurricanes … weather has been stupendous- I’m lucky – bluest skies & sea green trees & grass – sun but 70’s in temp no humidity very nice – has been great talking to Pam – she’s settled down a bit & admits that she had visions of being married as all rosy & bliss & knows it’s not case but is having a great time … she’s a pretty practical person – has been great talking to both- Gene is good in electronics & engineering stuff wants to go into radio when through w/ air force radar stint but says may stay on awhile in service if gets over a few hang ups as money and benefits are hard to beat – it just may be the best place to be in a few years. Took me around base – which has a beautiful wooded lake marina where they get together for shrimp fries/boating/picnics etc. - not bad! – It has been pretty neat staying with them, a fun quiet time plus a good party – bought them the booze w/ windfall from Uncle Charles $20 unexpected so I figured I wouldn’t be practical with it – it’s been really fun & quite a different experience – will be moving on to Tuscaloosa, Alabama for tues night –picked it as I think it’s where George Washington Carver used to teach but not sure - anyway it looked better than Birmingham & will be nicely situated on the way – will call Ludy & be with them for Thanksgiving weekend – well today Pam & I will go look at old fishing boats & countryside – do some sketches & maybe wash car … – will be w/ Uncle Charley again later probably 2nd week of December – 10th -12th – … will write frequently as possible – Love Connie

Baton Rouge

As I approached Louisiana from the east end of Texas the trees snapped into bayou mode and were suddenly adorned with picture perfect hanging moss. I was ready for a change of scene and got it – in a letter home I wrote -

“I’ve had it with how wonderful Texas is, tho they are truly hospitable… crossing the state line on interstate 10 into LA is all that any traveler could wish for… immediately and I mean it, you pass from wooded hill country into open spaces chock full of swamps, bayous, and those neat trees with the moss stuff on them, was attempting Baton Rouge so didn’t stop for sketches but intend to do some while here, in fact I hope to do quite a few….also the old houses on Lafayette on the concrete blocks…really Louisiana looking, like Texas was Texas looking, guess movies don’t lie after all…”

Layfayette, Louisana was my destination for the night, I entered the town cruising around until I located the campus and found the dorms..this chapter just used a meeting room as their members resided in the dorms or off campus entirely…often the case – not every chapter had their own house like I had been used to at UCLA. I was able to camp out in the meeting room area for the night which worked fine for my budget. Spent most of my short stay chatting with various members and others about life…we called them ‘rap sessions’ in those days and they went long into the night often enhanced by candles, a stack of record albums and a bottle of wine. I was off the next day for Baton Rouge and to check in with an elderly widowed relative, Uncle Charlie . Our family had visited there in the late 60’s and I had fond memories of him and Aunt Rhoda. They were childless had hoped I would attend LSU and live with them since they were so near the school. They tempted me with a garage space that would have served as a studio and I admit I was drawn to the idea, but remained in CA for my undergraduate years. I arrived there to find a letter from home, filled with news about the busy activities of my family, I had some down time there and wrote home -

“ This being a bum thing is really neat, the thought occasionally passes my mind that I should gather together some money in January and February and then take off again in the Spring but th rough the North…haven’t reached many earth-shattering decisions that will determine the rest of my life, but then I wasn’t really counting on it, was thinking in Austin one quiet evening watching some people from a window, that if I did try to do this artist bit for a quote career,( it would be in the line of) the humanists who capture a moment of existence and make it last forever, a little of human folly, and some of its dignity…..people never seem to change – just their surroundings…. Uncle Charles really resembles NANA(my grandmother), esp. in the eyes and quiet manner, he…still drives, has his dog a wonderful tiny ball of excited fluff, good for him, walks him along the lake 4 times a day, sleeps with him, watches TV with him…”

I recall him fixing the dog’s dinner boiling some meat and carefully shredding it - that dog lived a pampered life and adored Uncle Charlie in return. I stayed with him on the way back as well and would paint in the kitchen from some sketches I did here and there - mostly oil on cardboard – (my sister has one of them still, a scene done from memories of a visit to Preservation Hall in New Orleans) I drove around the lake to LSU and visited the sorority chapter, where a letter from a friend awaited me. The LSU house was large, with over a 100 members had too many people watching soap operas and the only thing they seemed interested in was their Napoleon plates in the foyer. They were a wealthy fancypants chapter, so unlike my little UCLA chapter house of barely 20 members,who supplemented our expenses by taking in ‘boarders’. I didn’t linger. On the return drive I pulled over to draw some black folks fishing off of the bridge I was crossing, half wishing I could join them. Along with sketches, I jotted down some observations–

“Have and have nots quite distinct – incredible – but then the suburban sprawl is everywhere & the cities hold the ghettos – somethings bound to give eventually .... a local quote – ‘the grand houses get the gas, n****rs get the gas stations’ – Guns – common in Louisana – hunting, shooting, boys out off the highway with rifles, girls with bruises from kickback – pistol by bed and in porch at my Uncle’s - armed robbery all over, really kind of makes me nervous–“

After two days there I had regrouped, knowing I had a cushy base to return to on the way back. I was eagerly looking eastward to my next stop, Biloxi,Mississippi where I would hang out with friends my own age.

Road Trip First week - LA to Alpine TX Nov 1-7 1971

Lots of kids have taken off on trips at a youthful age - what’s so different about mine? That I was a girl alone? That I kept a sketchbook and did oil paintings along the way? That’s not so unique for artists to do. By temperament I am a list maker and planner, doggedly sticking to whatever chart I have laid out, so I was hoping this trip would purposefully throw a wrench into that structured nature. Maybe I needed to not be on a schedule, to have some wriggle room for awhile before ‘growing up’ and settling down to some orderly future-yet-to-be. Some planner I am, I have impetuously jumped into this project before really figuring out how to depict it, how describe my journey in a way that interests anyone else. There are some of us who just plunge into the ocean only to gasp and realize !!@#**&#!! It’s freezing! We thrash around for awhile and then get swimming – so bear with me if I flounder for awhile.

I took off on November 1^st, safely staying my first night at friends of my parents’ in Phoenix and the next at a sorority chapter in Tucson. I was out of California and on the road! I tooled around the Tucson area getting my feet wet in the desert, doing my first few sketches along the side of the road. But Tucson failed to hold my interest –Arizona was just too close to California, too familiar. I needed to put more distance between myself and home. I headed East, briefly stopping in Tombstone and marking it for another look on my return. A mix-up in dates squelched an opportunity to stay with a friend of my Mom’s outside of Las Cruces, so I pushed on to Van Horne Texas and my first motel room alone. My family had taken many road trips, so motels were a common enough experience - but me being the one to check in without a pal along for moral support was a novelty. (For the life of me I can no longer picture the room – too many other trips and cheap motels have muddied the waters.) Up early the next morning, I headed east and up into the mountains to Fort Davis, stopping to draw a little and relish in my alien surroundings. Now I was really somewhere different and new. I parked along the road and drew an old farmstead which a crew of Mexicans was doing repairs on, innocent of any potential dangers in the situation. A gruff old guy in a Stetson pulled alongside me wanting to know what I was doing on his ranch and seeing that I was indeed drawing wished me good day. (Recently Googling Fort Davis, I saw that the ruins still bore a strong resemblance to my sketches!) I was raised on a steady diet of cowboy shows from Roy Rodgers to Bonanza, my childhood spent wearing six-guns and hats, what a fun surprise it was for me to come over a hill and see the real McCoy – not some Disney version. I stayed awhile and drew, then had ham and eggs at a local diner before pushing on to Alpine, Texas. Once there, I cruised around the little town until I was in the college area and then located the dorms and eventually the sorority chapter. Friendly conversation and my status as a sorority alum worked pretty well to acquire accommodations along the way and much of the time the cost for a night’s stay was next to nothing - in the case of Alpine nothing - a sleeping bag on the floor. At other places, a couple of bucks got me a bunk bed and dinner. Alabama even let me do laundry gratis-I loved that place! Here in West Texas at Sul Ross State College, things couldn’t be more simple - kids were there to learn agriculture, become school teachers, and find someone to marry. It was a very small town, very country, very Texan. Far from the West Coast, I had waded into some foreign, but friendly waters. I was adopted by the locals immediately, toured around with the celebrity status of being from California - a kind of youth Mecca for most of the country in 1971. Here in this remote little West Texas town, I glowed with a golden aura. It went to my head and I stayed on a few days, basking in their infectious adulation, openness and joy. There was little to do in their small town - I spent the days painting from the studio-trunk of my car, the afternoons going to the five and dime for a Coca-cola with the gang. A lack of entertainment venues hardly stopped restless reckless college kids in a state where driving 90 miles to another little town for a hamburger was common, gas was cheap and boredom levels ran high. One night we decided to see the notorious Marfa ‘ghost’ lights, well-known for their spooky and extraterrestrial qualities. Dismissed by skeptics as merely gas or reflected auto lights, their mysterious properties lured us out into the darkness. We drove for hours and waited fervently in a lonely cow pasture, eventually seeing some lights, whose glow was enhanced by a six-pack of beer and the fact that we were young and out late on a Saturday night.

The details of those past events in my cards and letters home are sketchy and my recollections piecemeal. As I rummage through them, do I jealously long that I was once more off on a youthful adventure? Maybe, but perhaps I am just as comfortable with the ease of an armchair tour.

Bad finger

One afternoon during her first year of elementary school, my daughter came home and gravely took me aside to reveal some new found knowledge. Holding out her chubby hand and speaking in a lowered, reverent, confidential tone, she said - " Mom, did you know that one of my fingers is a 'bad' finger?" One of her ten fingers was arbitrarily singled out to be given a life sentence by some ancient schoolyard morality codex. The finger that yesterday was an innocent appendage today has been branded as corrupt and evil. What crime did it commit? It will look just the same as it did yesterday, but from this day forward it will forever bear a stigma and serve as a reminder of lost innocence.