In case you didn't know, I'm a Cajun. Born and bred in the swamps of Louisiana; home to great food, a unique flair for homegrown music, and a land of mystery as well as history. My ancestors were persecuted for their beliefs, driven from their homes and forced to seek refuge in a sort of no-man's land where only the foolish would try to make a life. And yet they stayed...lived, loved, and died among the alligators and swamp creatures of deep southern Louisiana.
There was a time when I couldn't wait to leave that place...to strike out on my own and make something of myself. But the older I got and the further from the swamp I roamed, I came to realize that you can take the gal out of the swamp, but you can't take the swamp out of the gal. There is a strength to the Cajuns which can't be denied. How a race of people could build a life out of nothing but mud and cypress trees and backwater bayous crisscrossing the landscape is beyond me. But build it they did and when they were finished there was cause for celebration. A time for giving thanks they no longer had to run. Thanks for the chance to raise their families, worship their God, and strive for a better life in their little corner of the world.
Now I live among the hills of eastern Tennessee and cherish the life I have created here. But it hasn't been easy. While the trials and tribulations of a life well lived has left scars on my body, my mind soars with all the possibilities a new day can bring. I gather around me people whose spirits lift mine own up. I hold close to me great works of beauty to feed my soul and wish for the day when I might do something which touches the spirits of others in some small way. Until then, I write my stories from my little corner of the world and give thanks for my roots which began by the bayous in the land of the Cajuns...
