The Arnaudville Experiment

George Marks did what many young people do who grow up small towns. He moved to the city—New York City to be precise, where his career as an artist was taking off quite nicely thank you.

Then his father became gravely ill. And George moved back to his tiny hometown of Arnaudville, in the heart of Louisiana’s Cajun country, to help care for his dad.

georgemarks.300After his father’s death, George realized that he wasn’t ready to leave home again.

And so, with the power of his gentle yet wildly infectious personality, George began nudging his hometown toward an amazing transformation. George will be the first to tell you that many, many people have made this transformation possible, but it seems clear to me that he was the catalyst.

Over the last decade this tiny hamlet has reinvented itself into a Mecca for all sorts of artists and artisans, and at the core of that transformation is NUNU’s Arts and Culture Collective. Step through the door past the weathered gray exterior of an old lumberyard building and into a explosion of creative spirit. On one recent visit to NUNU’s, quilters gathered around a frame suspended from 20-foot ceilings, not only celebrating and preserving that ancient art—but practicing their French, part of another community initiative to keep that part of local culture vibrant. The adjoining space serves as studios for Marks and other regional artists—and on the occasional evening as a music performance space. The town’s old jailhouse and waterworks have also been converted to artists’ studios. Down the road there are weekly jam sessions at the music shop Tom’s Fiddles, hosted by a fiddle maker from Maine, one of those drawn to The Arnaudville Experiment—along with a bass player from Rhode Island and a blues guitar player from Nashville.Quilting

We spent some of our final week in Louisiana back in Arnaudville, for its Semaine Francais—six days exploring how small communities can build on their cultural foundations to become even stronger, more vibrant places to live. Alongside local townspeople and politicians were a hundred folks from a similar small community in Brittany—from business people, to musicians, to high school students.

There were bi-lingual workshops in the day—and lots of food and music at night. (Including a joint performance by a band from Brittany and a local band in which they collaborated on new songs that blend their music traditions. How cool is that.)

Next up for Arnaudville is an ambitious plan to draw upon its French-speaking heritage to create an “immersive French weekend experience” for those who’d like to brush up on that particular skill without the cost of a plane ticket to France. Ideas include a French speaking lane at the grocery store, French speaking window at the post office, art and music studio tours in French.

Pretty groovy eh?

From this very special small town—comes very big ideas.  Glad we got to visit one more time as we hit the road.

The Little Big Cup

Deck One of the joys of our time in Acadiana was hanging at The Little Big Cup, a restaurant and coffee shop opened last year by Kevin Robin, when he returned to Arnaudville from New York—with a partner he met there in tow.

How did you convince Sanjay to move from New York to tiny Arnaudville I ask? “His only condition was that there had to be a coffee shop,” Kevin responded with a chuckle. “And so I opened one.”

Here’s an excerpt from a piece I wrote about The Little Big Cup for Country Roads Magazine:

“We’ll have acoustic music on the deck and let it drift off lazily over the bayou.“

That really is just how Kevin Robin talks. And thirty seconds into the conversation you can’t wait to hear what he’ll say next. The 1800 square foot deck in question will be behind the restaurant he’s opening in Arnaudville next door to The Little Big Cup, a combination coffee shop and restaurant he opened with his partner Sanjay Maharaj last fall. It was so wildly popular from the start that he explains, “The restaurant hijacked the coffee shop.”

And Robin is very clear that he has a distinct mission in mind for each part of that equation.

He’d like the coffee shop to continue to be a a gathering spot—a community “nucleus.” A place where folks can come to visit with their friends, a place that’s embracing. Robin’s family runs a local grocery store that has long served the community, and just inside the entrance to The Little Big Cup are the vintage doors to the old store from which his family’s business evolved. Intended, he explains, “to bring people to a place of their childhood, when they pulled on those doors.”doors

Robin has recently returned to Arnaudville from New York where he was pursuing doctoral studies in neuropsychology. Which helps explain the way he expresses one of his visions for this place. “My idea was to create a place where we can foster intergenerational connectivity.”

And just how does one do that? In part with a really big table in the middle of your coffee shop. Each afternoon, his plan is to gather a half dozen folks from a nearby nursing home, and pair each of them with two latchkey kids to help them with their homework. Has it become clear yet that this place is about a lot more than a cappuccino and biscotti?

The restaurant next door draws upon that same vision.

“We decided to become the home of the $5 plate lunch,” Robin says, but adds that the special will be available in the evening as well.

“It’s traditional stuff like most of the folks would cook here,” he explains, delighting in the fact that they’ll often get an order from someone with a request to deliver the meal to an elderly parent so they won’t have to cook that evening.

What a guy. Glad I’ve had a chance to get to know Kevin and Sanjay a bit. Hope to see them again on next year’s swing through Louisiana.  Keep up with the evolution at The Little Big Cup’s Facebook page.

First Stop: Acadiana

PalmsCajun Palms. I almost crack up every time I say the name of the RV resort we chose for our first stop.  Here on the edge of the Atchafalaya Basin, one side of the road has been cleared and planted with sugar cane that stands about knee high this month. The other side of the road has been cleared and planted with palm trees. Lots and lots of palm trees, each one waving over a concrete pad awaiting an RV. Palms are not native to this part of the world, but they seem to like it here. As did we, despite our first encounter with the quirky side of RV culture, upon which I’ll expound in an upcoming post.

We chose Cajun Palms not for its amazing bar and pool complex or the weekend drinking and line-dancing beside that pool, but purely for its location within easy striking distance of all the exploration we wanted to do in Acadiana during our last week (for awhile) in Louisiana. We packed a lot in to those last few days.

We celebrated Dave’s birthday the first night at a pot luck in an old lumberyard that has been converted to an arts collective, and where on that particular night a gathering of locals and visitors from France celebrated their historic connection. They sang Happy Birthday to Dave in in French accompanied by a band from Brittany.

BDCakeWe made the ten minute drive into Breaux Bridge for the legendary Zydeco breakfast at Café des Amis. The dance floor, inches from our table was packed, while we chowed down on an etouffée topped omelet and a huge boudin-stuffed oreille de cochon pastry.

We visited with long-time friends who live in a beautiful, art-fill Acadian cottage that happens to be just down the road from our home du jour.

We chatted one afternoon with the tiara-topped winners of the Miss and Mrs. Catfish Festival Queen contest who were the guests of honor at a outdoor arts show in charming, historic Washington.CatfishQueens

We made a quick stop to see the irises in magnificent bloom at the über-cool, design-award-winning, eco-friendly St. Landry Parish Visitors Center.

We visited the branch of the Jean Lafitte National Park that interprets the lives of those exiled Acadians who ended up in the fertile prairies around Eunice.

At a reception one perfect Spring evening  we chatted with the French Consul to New Orleans about Le Grand Dérangement des Acadiens when they were exiled and then enjoyed the view from a flower-filled deck overlooking Bayou Fuselier—at a beautiful restaurant that is part of the emerging arts community of Arnaudville.

We scored smoked boudin from a drive-through window across the street from our RV park. We at a LOT of boudin this week.Boudin

Another morning it was off to Lafayette for a trip down memory lane for me. This is where I got my first job out of college, directing an early morning TV show that was half in Cajun French, half in English. We had sweet potato and pecan pancakes at Dwyer’s Café, the owner of which was once my mess chef when I was a platoon leader for a National Guard unit in Lafayette. I’m convinced we had the best field rations in military history.

We were serenaded that afternoon by a 90-year old volunteer at the charming historic interpretation village of Vermillionville. He teased two young women in the front row asking where their men were and if they were married. “Not in this state,” they answered wryly, smiling at each other, and then gently back at him. We smiled at each other too.Docent

Then it was home for soak in the hot tub and a nap.

Old friends. New Friends. Great food.  Great music. Cultural quirks. Inspiring stories. We’ve only been on the road a week, and we’ve only traveled 100 miles, but so far this adventure is everything we imagined it to be and more. I’ll expand upon much of this in the next few posts.

Love. Different. Equal.

ClownOrnament

The confluence of our preparations for the road and today’s Supreme Court proceedings has pointed to an interesting coincidence in the provenance of the two treasures above.

The vintage wooden clown was a birthday gift from my first spouse Donna, to whom I was married for a long while and with whom I share two amazing children. The kinetic yard ornament is a birthday gift from Dave, who has been at my side for the last two decades. Each was spotted while I was in the company of the spouse in question. In each case a discussion followed which reasonably concluded that it would be silly to spend the amount asked, for something so impractical.

And in each case the spouse in question snuck back and purchased the impractical. Knowing how much delight it would bring to their sometimes impractical spouse.

I love Donna today as much as ever, but in a wiser way that comes of age and a better understanding of who I am. My love for Dave is the kind that comes from knowing there is no kinder, more caring person anywhere with whom I could spend my life.

Each love different. Each love equal.

As I hope the Supreme Court comes to understand.

The big wooden clown, heavy as he is, isn’t suited for nomadic life and has gone off to live with daughter Jennifer for a spell.  The yard ornament will be coming along to be planted in whatever ground we land upon at any particular point in our voyage—claiming it as home.

 

“You’ll Miss New Orleans”

Once at a party in New Orleans, an elderly local doyen asked me where I lived in the city. “Faubourg Marigny, east of the French Quarter,” I answered naively.

In a practiced tone reserved exclusively for those not from families with roots buried centuries deep into the city, she replied. “You must not be from around heyah (Imagine Vivien Leigh as Scarlett O’Hara speaking this line.) Around heyah, we say UP RIVAH and DOWN RIVAH.”

And it is in a that same patronizing tone that several friends have told me, when they hear of our plans, “You’re going to miss New Orleans.”

“I WILL miss New Orleans,” I reply, “And Baton Rouge, and St. Francisville, and Breaux Bridge, and Mandeville, and Pontchatoula…and even Chalmette.”

I’ll miss every twisted turn of River Road, and every quirky cultural crevice I’ve had the joy to explore around these parts over the last many decades.

That is in fact, precisely why I’m leaving.

Because, when I return, the inevitable “taking it for granted” phenomenon that sinks in over the years, will have dropped away. And all these amazing things will once again be—amazing.

Meanwhile, I’ll be on the hunt for all that is amazing elsewhere.

I'll most definitely miss the hysterical costumes that fill the streets of Faubourg Marigny on Mardi Gras Day.

I’ll most definitely miss the hysterical costumes that fill the streets of Faubourg Marigny on Mardi Gras Day.

The Big Sort

Two weeks till our Fifth Wheel arrives. Time to get serious. And so the sorting through the detritus of our life has begun. And I’ve discovered the process is a full-on part of the adventure.  We now have a stack of empty photo albums as I clear them out and prepare to send off a lifetime of snapshots to be digitally scanned. Albums full of good times—and grief.  
Orangesuit
Here I am with daughter Jennifer from a party several decades ago. And yes it was a costume party—that wasn’t my fashion sense even back then. The suit is its own story for another time.

But there too, in those same albums, are snapshots recalling good times with friends that would  later be lost to the AIDS epidemic.

 

 

 

 

 

He bought it.

When, a couple years ago, I suggested to my partner Dave that giving up our day jobs, selling our B&B in New Orleans and setting out in an RV to tour America for a couple years would be a swell adventure, I was expecting an arched eyebrow and withering stare. Dave loves New Orleans. Dave loves familiarity. Dave hates surprises.  And yet…he agreed. With surprisingly little hesitation.

An act of love?  Of course.  But there is an adventurer’s spirit deep in his soul as well. And this particular solution to feeding that spirit comes with a bit of familiarity hitched to the back of the truck.

And so, much to my astonishment, the adventure is about to begin.