Mary L. Proctor, Folk Artist: Tallahassee's "Missionary" Mary

 

Mary. L Proctor, "Missionary Mary," painting on doors. She had a vision, a sign.
 "go paint," and "the door is the way," and she followed it. These are portraits of 
 Zora Neale Hurston, Sojourner Truth, and pioneering educator Mary McLeod Bethune,
founder of Bethune-Cookman College in Daytona Beach, Florida, 
 with the perfect text: Knowledge is Power

Missionary Mary tells it like it is. 

Tallahassee was once all plantations, every inch of it, plantations worked by slaves.  

Now it has folk art, lots of it is, created by their descendants, among others. It's art inspired by personal experience and a unique way of seeing. It's art from the heart, honest art through the lens of folks who are moved to express themselves unhindered by the techniques and rules of traditional artists trained in the aesthetics.   

Self-taught artists. Outsider art. Primitive art. They are driven to express their thoughts and feelings, some to express messages from the angels. Many say they are moved by God. They have signs. "God I need help. What can I do?" And the answer is "go paint" or "go make art." And that's what they do.   

This is how Tallahassee's own Mary L. Proctor tells it. 'I started painting in '95 . . .now they are nation wide.'  In '95 she had lost her grandmother, an aunt and uncle in a devastating house fire. She cried for months, depressed, lost. And then she got the message, a sweet vision: "Go paint." That vision inspires her to this day: "Art heals the body mind and soul."  She hasn't stopped painting since then. 

"Missionary" Mary in her gallery,
surrounded by her work.

The Lord delivered in another way, a huge unfathomable way, really a coincidence: He sent Tricia Collins, a Tallahassee native who owns a gallery in New York's SoHo that collects and sells folk art.  She happened to be visiting her hometown, happened to take a drive out to Jefferson County near Monticello, near where Mary and her kin were born, and happened upon Mary's doors. 

Collins was ecstatic. She jumped out of her car, looked over those doors, and offered Mary $5,000 for them on the spot. Down to New York they went.  A compulsion to paint overcame Mary Proctor. 

A good thing, too. Tricia Collins, amazed at her discovery of this self-taught artist, bought 75 more paintings and had a one-woman exhibition of Missionary Mary's work in 1996. A folk artist was born. 

On niece Ali's wall.

I can almost imagine the overwhelming joy Mary Proctor felt, to see her work beautifully displayed on bright white gallery walls, and "to witness purchase after purchase by people willing to pay seven thousand dollars each for her treasured doors and  her wall art." Tricia Collins had brought manna from heaven. Praise the Lord.

Now this is one fine example of how an inside artist brought in an "outsider" artist, in the true sense of that profoundly meaningful transaction. It's how folk artists, "outsider" artists, come into the large universe of the art world, and are recognized for their innate talent, driving obsession, their honest expressions of daily life. Mary's paintings are sold in many galleries and on every online art site, from Artsy and Pinterest to Worth Point and yes, Mary's own gallery. 

On my wonderful niece Ali's walls.

That's how my niece Ali, Andy's daughter, acquired two of Missionary Mary's paintings. I've seen them on her walls for ages, but this time I took a closer look. "Those are Mary Proctor's," Ali says. "She's a well-known folk artist on a mission to channel God's wisdom," sister Andy added. "And these are original paintings?" I ask.  "You betcha Aunt Fran, bought in her gallery." 

So that's when I had a sign: Learn more about Missionary Mary L. Proctor. 

And well, for heaven's sake, I found that Mary has lots of paintings with that very message: "pay attention to signs....signs point the way...."  And so I paid attention.

Katherine Wolf-Hehn, in the Bitter Southerner, 
Photo by Mark Wallheiser.
"Art heals the body mind and soul"

Sources/Notes

1. https://bittersoutherner.com/missionary-mary-proctor-southern-folk-art.  “This is my communication line to God. This is my expression. The Church of Art.” .

2. https://porchscene.com/2014/01/06/marys-doorway-philosophy-by-deborah-fagan-carpenter/

3. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_L._Proctor+

4. https://mainstreetgallery.net/artist/mary-proctor/

5. https://discover.hubpages.com/education/Folk-Art-The-Self-Taught-Artist -- "Folk art is artistic creativity performed by people who are self-taught, or by those who learned their skill from having it taught or handed down to them, such as from family members. That means it lovingly embodies the skill, imagination, memories, stories, and creativity of the artist in a way that is simply unique."

The Last Slave Ship: The Clotilda and Memories of Africa in America

The schooner Clotilda probably looked like the slave ship Armistead in this rendition,
according to scholars studying and documenting the recovery and authentication of The Last Slave Ship to make the horrific "middle passage" across the Atlantic. Photo rendition from Ben Raines, in Anniston/Gadsden (Alabama) Rel-Time News, July 2019. 

The wreck recovered, May 22, 2019. It was
"remarkably in tact," according to an NPR story.

In 1860, the wooden ship Clotilda illegally transported 110 people from what is now the west African nation of Benin to Mobile, Alabama. The Clotilda was then taken into delta waters north of the port and burned to avoid detection. The Slave Trade had been prohibited  in 1808, but it continued robustly up to the Civil War, mostly with Northern acquiescence. In fact, Northern industrialists ran a lucrative trade out of New York City harbor for years, and helped fund the Clotilda run. Scholars believe the Clotilda is the last slave ship to make it to America, and their human cargo were the last Africans to be enslaved here in the so-called "land of the free." This is the story of the African past and the American experience torn asunder by the institution of slavery. 

The director of the Alabama Historical Commission, Lisa D. Jones, called the discovery  "an extraordinary archaeological find,” noting that "the voyage represented one of the darkest eras of modern history and is a profound discovery of the tangible evidence of slavery." It is also a profound discovery of the meaning and importance of the African heritage of American slaves, the ways they were forced to adapt, the impact of family separations, the hardships, the dreams of freedom, and the memories and traditions of Africa they held so closely through the cruelty of human bondage.

"Tangible evidence," if any more is needed. The trafficking in human beings and its dire impact and consequences constitute a horrifying thread running through the social fabric of America up to the present, and yes, it is well-documented. 

The human dimensions of the story are painful, tragic, and to its credit the Smithsonian recognized its significance in its announcement of the Clotilda's discovery:  

"One hundred and fifty-nine years ago, slave traders stole Lorna Gale Woods' great-great grandfather from what is now Benin in West Africa. Her ancestor, Charlie (Cudjo) Lewis [born Oluala Kossolo] was brutally ripped from his homeland, along with 109 other Africans, and brought to Alabama on the Clotilda, the last known slave ship to arrive in the United States. Today, [May 22, 2019] researchers confirmed that the remains of that vessel, long rumored to exist but elusive for decades, have been found..." The Smithsonian Institution,  a major partner in the ship's recovery and authentication.   

Cudjo and another Clotilda
survivor in 1914 (wikipedia).

The amazing remarkable thing is that the survivors of the Clotilda who remained in Alabama formed their own community, Africatown, in Mobile, after the Civil War. Cudjo Kossolo Lewis was said to be a chief and the oldest person on the ship. It was Cudjo and thirty-one other Africans who founded Africatown. They were joined by other continental Africans and formed a community that continued to practice many of their West African traditions and the Yoruba language for decades. 

According to an excellent article in Wikipedia, a spokesperson for the community said Cudjo (pictured left) died in 1935.  Redoshi, another captive on the Clotilda, was sold to a planter in Dallas County, Alabama, where she became known as Sally Smith. She married, had a daughter and lived to 1937. Another survivor, Matilda McClear, lived until 1940. By then there were eight surviving members of the last slave ship from Africa. (Wikipedia, note 2 below, and the book Dreams of Africa in America by Sylviane Anne Diouf, Oxford U Press, 2007..

Some 100 descendants of the Clotilda still live in Africatown, which was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 2012, five years before the Clotilda was fully recovered and its history confirmed.  We can imagine the joy this community experienced when the discovery made the news, and it made a lot of news. “The excitement and joy is overwhelming,” says Lorna Woods, great-great granddaughter of Cudjo, in a voice trembling with emotion. She is 70 years old now. But she’s been hearing stories about her family history and the ship that tore them from their homeland since she was a child in Africatown."

An interesting note on the authentication of the slave trade and its monstrous trafficking in human lives is that the anthropologist and writer Zora Neale Huston made her own significant discovery in about 1925: She found Cudjo and interviewed him about his experiences. Unfortunately, she had trouble finding a publisher for this story, even after publication of her novel Their Eyes Were Watching God. The interviews were finally published in 2018 in Hurston's book titled Barracoon: The Story of the Last "Black Cargo."  I just discovered that Hurston's title was the name of the prison and holding pen where the slaves were kept before their forced trip to America. The content and the significance of Hurston's interviews, lost for decades, were revived again after the Clotilda's resurrection from the dead.  

Soon scheduled for release, on January 25, the investigative journalist Ben Raines, who worked for years on recovering the Clotilda, will tell his story in The True Story of How Clotilda was Found, Her Descendants, and an Extraordinary Reckoning. For some time, it appears, the major institutional partners in the project, the Alabama Historical Society, the National Geographic, SEARCH Inc, the Smithsonian, and others, neglected to mention the work Ben Raines with the support of the University of Southern Mississippi researchers had done in making this discovery possible. It was trial and error for a long time, but Raines persevered and he deserves recognition for his obsessive work in pinning down the Clotilda's location. I'm glad he's telling his story, and I look forward to reading this book.

"Either the United States will destroy ignorance or ignorance will destroy the United States." W.E.B. Dubois (1868-1963)

Sources/Notes

1.  https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smithsonian-institution/clotilda-last-known-slave-ship-arrive-us-found-180972177/

2.  https://www.npr.org/2021/12/22/1067078342/wreckage-of-last-slave-ship-clotilda-alabama

3.  https://www.abebooks.com/Dreams-Africa-Alabama-Slave-Ship-Clotilda/31057664499/bd?cm_mmc=ggl-_-US_Shopp_Textbook-_- The story of the last Africans forced and trafficked to the US, based on their own stories, memories of Africa, and the tragic experience of being captured and enslaved in the U.S. in 1860, just 1 year before the outbreak of Civil War.   

4. https://www.al.com/news/anniston-gadsden/2019/07/alabama-files-legal-action-to-help-protect-the-clotilda.html   

5. https://www.al.com/news/2019/05/clotilda-the-last-american-slave-ship-has-been-found-alabama-historical-commission-announces.html

6. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clotilda_(slave_ship)#:~:text=The%20schooner%20Clotilda%20(often%20misspelled,23%20ft%20(7.0%20m)

7. https://www.history.com/news/zora-neale-hurston-barracoon-slave-clotilda-survivor   Hurston's unpublished manuscript of Barracoon is held by the Spingarn Center at Howard University. The importance of preserving historical documents revealed! 

8.  https://www.history.com/news/us-illegal-slave-trade-civil-

9.  https://www.al.com/news/mobile/2019/05/reporter-raines-credited-for-role-in-clotilda-search.html. 

10. https://www.hup.harvard.edu/catalog.php?isbn=9780674330511,  W.E.B.DuBois's  Suppression of the Slave Trade to the USA, 1638-1870, his pioneering research and dissertation at Harvard, where he was the first African-American to receive a PhD.  The slave trade actually continued after it was legally prohibited, but DuBois's study and his subsequent research and writing remain an important contribution to the extensive scholarship on slavery and the African-American experience.  See also  https://www.jstor.org/stable/2294050   The writings of DuBois are best of all, starting with The Souls of Black Folks.  

Aminah Robinson: The Art of Storytelling

In this image titled, “Christmas in Poindexter Village” Ohio artist Aminah Brenda Lynn Robinson depicts a public housing community in Columbus where she grew up. In her unique handmade books, Aminah explores the history of her family, her community and Black Americans.

The Toledo Museum of Art used this picture on their facebook page to wish members and fans a Merry Christmas. It caught my eye, pulled me in, and inspired me to learn a bit more about Aminah Robinson, the artist.

 Aminah Brenda Lynn Robinson from the series Folk Costumes from the Blackberry Patch,  featured in the exhibition "Raggin’ On: The Art of Aminah Brenda Lynn Robinson’s House and Journals," at the Columbus (Ohio) Museum of Art. 

Carole Miller Genshaft, CMA curator,
Ohio U Press, 2018, for children

She was born on February 18, 1940, in Columbus, Ohio, and died at 75 years of age in 2015. She grew up in the Poindexter public housing community in Columbus, one of the first federally funded housing projects in the country. She started sketching from an early age, encouraged by her father and mother. "“By the time I reached 9 years old,” she wrote in one of her journals, “I was deep, deep into transforming and recording the culture of my people into works of art."

She attended the Columbus College of Art and Design and worked on her art diligently, inspired by the stories of African Americans in her community, as well as the history of  the Black experience in America.  "She believed that life for her people in America was 'an act of near-superhuman perseverance,' and she was determined to capture that history in every medium she could" (note 5 below).  

Her entire oeuvre--including paintings, sculpture, mixed-.media using objects from nature, buttons and found materials, multi-layered portraits, drawings and books from the writing in her journals--is a testament to this determination, driven to work daily from sun up to sun down until her death in the home she turned into a vibrant artist's studio. A MacArthur Genius Award in 2005 enabled her to work as a full-time artist. Her work took off and flourished. She travelled to Africa and other countries, became a force in her Columbus community, was a Civil Rights artist activist, influenced a new generation of artists, and developed a close and fruitful relationship with the Columbus Museum or Art (CMA). 

Aminah Robinson, "Bo Walking the First Family through the Rose Garden,"
Columbus Museum of Art.  Robinson soared with hope and joy when
Obama was elected president, a dream toward which she had long worked 
as a dedicated Civil Rights activist. She marched with Martin Luther King at the
1963 March on Washington.

Upon her death, Robinson bequeathed all her art and her house to the CMA. The museum spent years carefully documenting her art, writings, archive and library that remained in her house. A trusted steward, the museum mounted the first major exhibition of her work in November 2020, delayed due to Covid, called "Raggin' On: The Art of Aminah Brenda Lynn Robinson (1940-2015)."  This exhibition, co-curated by Carole Miller Genshaft, presented six decades of Robinson's art and writings. Thoughtful and deliberate, the museum invited visitors  to experience the artist's house and creative processes and to better understand her intention "to celebrate the everyday lives and culture of Black people and their endurance through centuries of injustice."  

Aminah Robinson's work is now held by several other museums, part of their permanent collections, including the Brooklyn Museum of Art, the Smithsonian National Museum of Art, and our own Toledo Museum of Art.

"Symphonic Poem," part of a series, so powerful and moving, like all Aminah Robinson's work.

On this first day of Kwanzsa, TMA posted a piece of art from another great African-American artist, Romare Bearden (below). It's titled "Family Gathering."  I remember discovering Bearden at the National  Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, and have never forgotten it, or the impact the work of this fabulous artist had on me.  Aminah Robinson clearly stands proudly in the iconic tradition of Romare Bearden, along with  Jacob Lawrence, Alma Thomas, folk artists like Mary Proctor and the Florida Highwaymen and Woman, Gordon Parks, William H. Johnson, Lois Mailou Jones, Beauford Delaney, to mention only a few. It is an august tradition that expands the traditional canon and opens our eyes to a whole universe of experience and culture that all Americans should understand and embrace.

It is as well a fitting tribute to Desmond Tutu, the friend of Nelson Mandela and voice for justice, who died today and whose loss we grieve.

Sources/Notes

1. https://www.columbusmuseum.org/blog/tag/aminah-robinson

2. Carole Miller Genshaft, Aminah's World, Ohio U Press, 2018. A book for children about the artist.

3. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aminah_Robinson

4.  https://www.npr.org/2021/10/01/1041301066/buttons-beads-and-bravado-celebrating-the-simple-joy-in-aminah-robinsons-art

5.  https://www.nytimes.com/2021/02/26/obituaries/aminah-brenda-lynn-robinson-overlooked.html

6.  https://www.columbusmuseum.org/blog/news_room/raggin-on-features-new-work-by-beloved-artist 

7. A History of African-American Artists by Romare Bearden and Harry Henderson.

8. African-American Art and Artists by Samella Lewis, U. of Cafifornia Press, 2013.

9. Another good source is art historian Richard Powell, a Duke University professor of Art history, who wrote on the African-American tradition in important ways after his wonderful book on William H. Johnson. I knew Richard in DC and admired his critically important work at the time, and still do. See  Richard J. Powell Was Once Among Only a Handful of Scholars Dedicated to Black Art History. Here's How He Has Seen the Field Change (artnet.com).

10. https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/obituaries/desmond-tutu-archbishop-south-africa-apartheid/2021/12/26/9fef6f0c-661e-11ec-a7e8-3a8455b71fad_story.html.

Christmas Traditions: We Hear the Angels Sing

 

Santa's on the way. For my grandson Chase.

It came upon a midnight clear, 
that glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
to touch their harps of gold.
"Peace on the earth, good will to men,"
from Heaven's all gracious King.
The world in solemn stillness lay,
To hear the angels sing. 

My Christmas bouquet with
Dan's Florida Spider Lilies

My brother Loren and I loved sharing this time of year together and with our family wherever we happened to be.  We had so many wonderful Christmases from the time we were young children in Rochester, NY.  Our parents made sure of it. 

Andy's tree, 12/2021

The traditions continued into our adulthoods, with our own children, and now with their children. We shared as many Christmases together as we could, in Rochester, in Toledo, Tallahassee,  St. Petersburg, in DC, and in between.  Even if we were apart, the holiday spirit connected us, held us close. Same this year. The traditions continue. 

Loren inherited mom's make-believe tree, and he always had it ready to take out and light up. In fact, he brought it out early and kept it up late. It held lots of warm memories. We'd remind him that is was April and his Christmas tree was still up. '"Yeah, I'll get to it."  He did, in his own time. I understand it now. Whenever I take out a Christmas tree, or admire a tree that a family member puts up, the sight and scent of it bring comfort and joy. 

This year on the St. Petersburg waterfront
under a full moon. Shared this with Loren so many times
over the years.

Andy's Fireplace, which
Loren enjoyed as much
 as I am now. 

Loren didn't like the commercialism, but he loved the spirit, the music. He had a good voice and sang Christmas carols, just like my dad. He loved the candles and the lights. My brother was a romantic at heart. He listened to love songs--Elton John, Paul McCartney, Nat King Cole,  Kenny Rogers, Andre Bocelli. Never tired of them. Nor do we!

I liked giving him gifts at Christmas, mostly books, or a subscription to the National Geographic, a membership to the Smithsonian, National Museum of the American Indian, or to one of his favorite environmental groups. Loren usually gave little presents he had bought at the gift shops of one of his charities. St. Marks, in Tallahassee, was a favorite. 

Our mom's Christmas
cactus, tended by Andy
to this day.

This year I’m giving Loren this song to sing: "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear," because its message was never more important.  Loren believed it, always told it. And so do we.

We pray that the "Age of Gold," the age of peace foretold by prophets, is coming round.  We say this every year.  "Peace on the Earth," good will to everyone on planet Earth.  This year is no exception.  It's a Christmas tradition.

This decorated house in St. Petersburg is just
like the houses we decorate every year. 

For lo, the days are hastening on, 

By prophet bards foretold,
When, with the ever-circling years,
Shall come the Age of Gold.
When peace shall over all the earth
it's ancient splendors fling,
And all the world give back the song
which now the angels sing.

A Florida Road Trip Down Memory Lane: From Tallahassee to the Villages to Tampa/St.Petersburg

Christmas on the St. Petersburg waterfront under a bright gold full moon.

Andy and I took another Florida road trip, this time to visit friends we stay in touch with the best we can on social media, cell phones, and passing photos back and forth.  We aimed to see them face-to-face, in person, and have those long conversations we remember still, and the warmth and comfort that goes with them. Time for a trip down Memory Lane. 

The Villages have everything.
Recreation Center & nature trials.

When Andy first mentioned a trip to the Villages to see old friends, I pounced on it. "Well sis, if we're going there, why not go down to Tampa/St. Petersburg." I lived in the Tampa Bay area on the Gulf coast of central Florida before taking off for Ukraine with the Peace Corps in 2009, and I loved it. Miss my friends.  I'm so glad she said "great idea," because it turned out to be fantastic and wonderful for both of us, a friendship tour. 

Andy, Linda, and I

First stop, The Villages, to visit Linda and Rodney, with whom Andy's been friends for decades when they lived in Tallahassee. It was fun and heartwarming. We learned that the Villages now has 120,000 residents, 55 golf courses, every activity for seniors imaginable, and 3 zip codes. It's perfect for Linda and Rodney. It was fun being there because we're seniors who know how to laugh and how to keep these aging issues of concern in some perspective. We stick with the positive, enjoy every moment, fully in the now, satisfied and at peace. We had a lovely tour, a great lunch, and good conversation flowing easily between what's happening today and where we were before. We toasted to friendship and good health, and expressed hope we'd visit each other again soon. 

Bayfront Hilton
courtyard

Next up, with Andy driving (a good long-distance driver) and me navigating (pretty good), we headed south and west, a return to the "10 Years a Floridian" chapter of my life. I never thought I would say it, but I grew to love the place. It happened as I worked for the Florida Humanities Council, the NEH state program whose main job is helping Floridians learn about and promote their state. 

"Make Florida Home." That was the theme. Millions of people come and go in Florida, most born in other places, from some place else, attached to other states. It infuses the culture here.  It's a challenge to build that sense of place and attachment that makes you care for it. Snowbirds. Even if they come every winter for decades, or move here permanently in retirement, they call any state but Florida "home." How do you make people care about the State or get them to appreciate its cultural traditions and sacred places? Care about preserving it? How do you encourage them to appreciate its past and present, both the paradise and the Noir? In short, how do you entice them to "Make Florida Home?" 

Whenever I'm back in Florida I do feel at home. I came to know the state and to care for it. Familiarity breeds attachment. That was the purpose of the Humanities Council's award-winning magazine, The Forum, as well, which explored all aspects of the State's history and culture, its natural and built environments, its literature, art, music, folklife traditions. It still does.  

My Old Northeast neighborhood, decked out for Christmas.

I was back in St. Petersburg, back home. The Bay sparkled; the aging brick streets, uneven as ever, rose up to greet me; the houses, the bungalows and variety of architectural styles were beautiful, decorated in their holiday finest; and a short walk to Beach drive and along the Bay to downtown brought comfort and joy. 

The development downtown amazes. It is filled up with high rises on every available space, along with great Museums, lots of tourists attractions, cafes and restaurants. It's like New York City on Tampa Bay, I marveled. Sandie and Christopher snidely snickered. "Overdeveloped," they said.  They live downtown, and they've seen it happen. 

Still, I savored the flaura and fauna, the exotic flowers blooming like happy faces under the Florida sun and the balmy weather, the Live Oaks and ancient Banyon trees across from what once was the iconic Moon Under Water English pub. We spent lots of time there. My grandkids played around those Banyon trees whenever they visited their Nana. So many happy memories.  

A fav memory photo:
Sandie & me

But best of all was seeing dear Sandie and Christopher. It's been too long we all agreed, hugs and love flowing. They were friends with our brother Loren, too. Christopher helped Loren self-publish his memoirs, "An Asperger Journey."  Sipping wine and savoring memories, Sandie brought out the lovely Indian elephant sculpture that Loren had given her as a gift many years ago. We shared time. We shared meals and thoughts. We had an evening meal at Cervice's because it was a place we spent so much time together.  It's no longer the Moon, but we shared a lovely dinner of tapas and wine at "what used to be." And as an added bonus we got to bask in the waterfront under a brilliant gold moon.  Just like old times.

But the good times continued the next morning with Sue Johnson, a friend going back to Ohio days. Sue is an art therapist, a talented artists, and a Tai Chi master teacher. We had a lovely breakfast at the historic Hollander hotel, a place her daughter stays when she visits her mom. We just took up from where we left off a few years back in St. Pete, our memories bridging Ohio and Florida, and lots of space in between. Sue updated Andy and I on the museum world in St. Pete, the Chihuly Collection and her new favorite, The Museum of the Arts and Craft Movement. Just three-years-old, this architectural wonder was founded by philanthropist and collector Rudy Ciccarello. Sue said the art was incredible. She made it sound so fantastic that I will have to return to St. Petersburg just to see this museum.  

After musing about my next visit, Andy and I wound our way over the Howard Frankland bridge to Tampa to see dear friend Linda Ketley. She is an intrepid entrepreneur to this day, restoring houses and making them beautiful, helping friends with buying and displaying art and rare artifacts from around the world. Linda had just learned her sister Julia from England had died. We felt sad for her. Linda's family lives in the UK, where she has dual citizenship. I have always loved her international view of life and her multicultural interests, intrinsic to a beautiful woman whose Dad was Chinese and her mom English. Our  thoughts are with Linda during this grieving time. 

Our friendship tour was coming to an end, but we had one more stop to make in Tampa as we headed home to Tallahassee. We were going to see another friend with Ohio roots, the incomparable Dan Bitter from Toledo's Old West End days.  We've been friends ever since, even though Dan fell off our roof and broke his arm when he was painting our house. That's a story in itself.  

Dan is a walking encyclopedia of knowledge with never-ending curiosity. "I'm reading a book now on advances in Astronomy and space," he tells us. Just like Dan! He marvels at what's going on out there, among the planets and asteroids in the forever universe.

This is why I am Dan's ever-loving friend. He is the most brilliant guy I know, and also the kindest, most compassionate, a wonderful listener and loyal friend. And on top of all that, he made us a delicious crepe from a recipe he got from our mutual Old West End friend Sandy Frank.  He  topped it off with drops of fresh lemon and powdered sugar, and voila, the perfect crepe!   

Nor is it any wonder that Dan's home and big yard is an oasis for progressive souls, free spirits, and extra-talented friends who come to his place for movies, crepes on Sunday, and eclectic conversation among kindred spirits. Dan collects all good people and puts them together in memorable and meaningful ways. And, true to form, it happened this visit, too.  

Dan connected Andy and I with Marie Haley, whose lifelong partner was award-winning crossword puzzle maker Merl Reagle. Okay, puzzle fans, you know who he is. Merl died a few years ago, but his crossword puzzles live on.  Dan made sure Marie came for his Sunday crepes when he learned that Andy is an "incorrigible puzzlehead," as Merl called them. 

And guess what? Marie, who was also Merl's publicist and marketer, came with Merl's "100th Anniversary Crossword Book," published in 2013, and gave this gift to Andy, who was thrilled. The book of puzzles, which Andy, pen in hand, is already filling up, was in honor of Arthur Wayne, the inventor of the "strange, addictive interlocking mind game called the crossword puzzle." Marie regaled us with stories, including the time Steven Spielberg, a huge Merl fan, made a get well call to Merl when they lived in Los Angeles and he was in the hospital. 

Andy with Dan's bouquet of 
Florida Lilies

And so our friendship tour ended. We drove back to Tallahassee full of gratitude for friends. "That was the best Christmas present we could give each other," Andy said. 

As we got closer to home, I read a quote from Merl's book that wrapped it up: "The fact that puzzles are all about things that cross and intersect makes them a great metaphor for people staying connected to each other." 

"Perfect," Andy said.   

Dan's Spider Lilies, lovely and very fragrant

Monticello, Florida: Southern Hospitality

 

The John Denham House, Italianate, 1874,
a picture of Southern charm.

My sister Andy and I took a road trip to Monticello, in Jefferson County, Florida. You can gather that the town's namesake is Jefferson's Monticello and all the history that surrounds it. It's just about 16 miles up the road from Andy's, straight East on Mahan Drive/Highway 90, under a Canopy of Live Oaks dripping with Spanish Moss. 

When I'm in Florida, and I lived in St. Petersburg for ten years, it doesn't usually feel like the deep South, but it sure does this visit.  I'm learning more about northern Florida, that Tallahassee was all plantations from very early on, and they extended to Monticello and beyond. I even recognized the names of the streets as we were driving east, many belonging to old Plantation masters, the land made bountiful by the free labor of slaves.  

"The more you know, the more you see," I mused to Andy. She understood.  The antebellum era, Reconstruction, Jim Crow have deep roots here. It's a story we need to understand, how it infused our  history and culture. We recognize as well that the history is now overlaid by modernism, evolving cultural traditions and norms, incredible economic expansion, growing diversity, and changes to the land. .  

Andy brought us back to the present, pointing to a sign, Monticello Heritage Trail. We're here! "Look out for the Court House in the center of this picture," Andy said. And sure enough, it came into view. A large white, silver-domed, elegant structure in the center of the town, two tall pine trees standing guard at the entrance,  beckoning us closer. I could have been riding around the Ring of Kerry in Ireland, it was such a joy to see. 

We drove around the Court House, looking this way and that, getting the lay of the land. The 1890s red brick Opera House was to our right, and to our left a charming street of  antique shops like Huckleberry's, a Wag the Tale humane society thrift shop, cafes and restaurants, a clothing boutique, commercial buildings and stores. We could see why the Monticello heritage district is on the National Register of Historic Places, its sites and beauty as old as the moss-covered oaks.  

Off the main street a bit, we stopped by two lovely churches, one a white structure with a distinctive silver steeple reaching to an azure blue sky, the other a wooden structure with amazing embellishments, carvings and beautiful stained glass windows all around.  I googled it when we got back to Andy's and learned it is a Carpenter Gothic architectural style, built in 1885.  Fascinating. Next time I hope we can get into that church and see the windows up close. . . 

The Perkins Opera House, 1890

We walked in and out of shops, bought a few Christmas gifts at Huckleberry's and Wag the Tail, and then stopped for lunch at The Brick House restaurant.  We had freshly caught grouper and fried green tomatoes. Andy had fried pickles. It was down home Southern delicious. 

We continued exploring after lunch, each of us pointing out houses and structures that got our attention. I loved the landscape, gently rolling hills (possibly old Indian mounds), the trees, the bright green leaves of camellias in pink and white. 

We came upon two historic houses next to each other, both on the National Historic Register, according to the markers. The John Denham House, photo at top, is currently a Bed and Breakfast. Denham was a Scottish immigrant and a cotton merchant. His home is still perfectly lovely, settled comfortably under centuries-old Live Oaks. I couldn't take my eyes off of the octagonal cupola as I walked next door to the Palmer House. That was a mistake. I stepped on a sweet gum ball, I think it was, slightly twisted my ankle and went down, flat on my back. My cell phone went flying. I'm fine, but my phone's a mess. 

I dusted off myself, and my pride, and continued on the short walk to the Palmer House, which sits silently on a large expanse of green lawn.  It was built by Martin Palmer for his son John, the town's mortician.  It's a simple Greek Revival architectural style built between 1850 and 1874. I couldn't help but think of the Civil War raging at the time, and the need for John Palmer's services. This place is rumored to be haunted by ghosts. It occurred to me that a ghost might be responsible for the fall I took, but Andy insists it was not a ghost but my admiring the scenery too much and paying attention too little. 

Opera House entrance

  The entrance to the Opera House.

A delicious meal.

Because my super selfie made us laugh! 

this is a 2nd rewrite b/c I lost my first draft.