HERITAGE, HISTORY, AND FAMILY; THE VIRTUES OF AMERICA
I buried two Louisianans this weekend. One was from North Louisiana, and the other from South Louisiana. People from Louisiana are outrageously proud of their heritage. It is a state like no other, and the people are likewise like no other.
I was born in Louisiana. I currently live just across the Stateline in East Texas. If I drive my car at a moderate speed, I can be back to the place of my birth in about 20 minutes. I was born on the uppermost northwestern border of Louisiana, but to worship and shop, I would travel to the tiny Texas town where I currently live. My family's town barely survived the great depression. My Uncle Carl's general store was the only remaining commerce as I grew up. His store was so antiquated that he still had hitching posts rather than neatly painted parking spots for his patrons.
His inventory was minimal; therefore, if we needed something other than hand-sliced bologna or a Dr. Pepper with peanuts floating on top, we would drive 20 minutes to Texas.
Both funerals this weekend were very similar. One was for a man, and the other for a woman. Their similarities were cultural. Both decedents were born Louisiana poor, and both remained Louisiana poor throughout their lives. However, although potentially monetarily poor, people from Louisiana abound in rich heritage.
The two decedents, although both Louisianans, were of different races. The first was a white male Caucasian from North Louisiana; the second was a Cajun female from South Louisiana. Although they shared Louisiana's rich and proud culture, their regional cultures differed. Their funerals were heavily musical, celebratory in nature, and heavily attended by family. Both funerals focused on heritage, history, and family.
Heritage, history, and family, in my opinion, are essential things in life. If we don't know who we are and where we came from, how can we gauge where we are going? I believe that our heritage, history, and family start us on a course through life, but that as we grow and mature, we take the reins and become the masters of our future. Our heritage, history, and family ground us morally. From there, we write our own stories and determine our own outcomes. Our lives are as rich or poor as we make them. We can hold onto our culture and history and embellish them into something magnificent; or, we can walk away from them and make something equally exquisite but different. Our determination, moral compass, opportunities, passions, and desires will guide us to make out of ourselves what we will.
As American's, we have so much opportunity. I remember when Americans were just as proud of their heritage as Louisianans remain; Texans too. I have wondered why so many Americans have lost their pride. Perhaps it is because many have lost their heritage, history, and family unity.
When I was a child, American children learned their heritage and history partly in school but mainly from their parents and grandparents. Our parents and grandparents survived the Great War and the Great Depression. They had tenacity. The tragedies and losses they had witnessed and sustained imbued their souls with bravery so completely that they were able to withstand and uplift the weight of the world. They were indeed the "Greatest Generation" of my lifetime. They were strong, the salt of the earth, and they withstood adversity with honor.
Additionally, no one pulled the wool over their eyes because they wouldn't stand for it. They knew who they were, where they had come from, and where they were going. They knew it from the laps of their parents and grandparents; the people who loved them would never lie to them and would protect them, even if it meant taking a bullet for them. That's what being an American used to be like, and that's what being in a family should still be like. We were tough, strong defenders of our beloved constitution, and we wanted liberty and justice for all, not just for ourselves.
The Louisianans that I buried this weekend were proud Americans. They both lived through brutal oppression and poverty, but they never lost sight of hope and love. They loved their heritage, history, and family, and they hoped for a better generation and better future for their countrymen and the world at large.
As the attendees left their services, pausing to say a final farewell to their loved ones, their sobs were barely audible through the cultural music playing. The Caucasian male departed to "Louisiana Saturday Night." The Cajun female departed to "Jambalaya, Crawfish Pie, and a Filet Gumbo." As I observed both families leaving, I saw dancing feet crossing my threshold.
That's how life was when I was a little girl. When we said farewell at grandma's house, our bellies were full, our hearts were lifted, our heritage was strong, and our feet were dancing. And, almost every time, we were singing "Louisiana Saturday Night" or "Jambalaya, Crawfish Pie, and a Filet Gumbo" as we danced through the kitchen and down the driveway.
The two Louisianans that I buried this weekend were connected to me. As my family and friends left my building, I remained inside, tapping to the beat of my heritage. My heart was broken and filled with joy simultaneously. Knowing who I am, where I came from, and where I am going brought me great comfort.
This weekend I learned that heritage, history, and family have always been the guiding beacons in American values and culture. I also discovered that if we want to survive and share the blessings of liberty and joy with our children and the world at large, these virtues must return in prominence.
