Last night was the first night of the Battleground Louisiana: Civil War Events and Experiences program at the (Winnsboro) Franklin Parish Public Library sponsored by the Louisiana Endowment for the Humanities. The librarian, Emily Arnold, told me it was a record crowd for the library with 41 in attendance. This is a pilot program, but dealt with a topic that had been requested by library patrons for years. We’re off to a good start.

I introduced the series and topic, went through the syllabus, and tested the waters of my audience. I found them receptive, polite, intelligent, and extremely interested in the topic. I knew a few people in the audience, and the discussion was lively and pro-South. My kind of people. Many of them had already read the five books for the series (these are mentioned in a previous post). I am learning so much as I read and work through the selected books, and though there is a good deal of work involved, I am so excited to be a part of this program. It’s hard to believe that it’s been ten years since the play I wrote for Franklin Parish, Just Scratchin’ the Surface, was performed at the Princess Theatre. I remember the many Saturdays I had spent in the library researching the play. The librarian said she certainly wanted to include me and my upcoming children’s book, Jim Limber Davis: A Black Orphan in the Confederate White House, in their summer reading program for children.

After nights like this, I am happy and proud to be thought of as a Southern writer.

Well, though we had President’s Day off, Bastrop High School teachers and students had to return today. I think everyone south of us had Mardi-Gras time off, but alas, we did not. I think that neither the students nor the teachers were ready to return today. However, I gave it my best effort, and once again tried to defeat the powers of ignorance and darkness, but my enemies are mighty. There were also many students out today.

First period, we worked on Melville’s Billy Bud; in 2nd and 3rd, we worked on Nathaniel Hawthorne’s short story, “Young Goodman Brown.” I really enjoy this story. Someday, I’m going to produce a movie of it. 4th period met with an Air Force recruiter, and in 5th and 7th periods we worked on preparing for the GEE, which is coming up in March.

I have a busy week ahead: Thursday, I begin the Civil War in Louisiana series at the Winnsboro Library, and Friday, I’m to make a Jim Limber Davis presenation at J.S. Clark Magnet school in Monroe. Saturday, I have a “technology” workshop to attend, and all kinds of editing and writing projects I need to get to. It’s enough to make a sane man lose his mind, not that I’m too sane. Yet, in spite of my busy schedule today, I was still able to write three poems. That made the whole day worthwhile.

Yesterday, the Scottish Society of Northeast Louisiana held our monthly meeting. We now meet in the Monroe Jaycees building. I think it will be a fine meeting place for our 2007 year. For the program, we invited members to participate in a Scottish “Show and Tell.” One member brought a tartan that had belonged to her Scottish ancestor who had come from Scotland to Ireland to Charleston, SC. Though it was over 200 years old, the wool was still in reasonably good shape.

I showed the group my Collins Pocket Scots Dictionary, using a few Gaelic words for examples. Some of my recent favorites are deil (devil), wabbit (yes, sounds just like Elmer Fudd’s word) which means “to be tired, run down, out of energy” and hooley, which is the word for a wild party. The book is pocket-sized, and useful for anyone interested in Scottish Gaelic.

I’ve long been a collector of language dictionaries, as I believe they are a valuable tool for my writing. In one of these posts, I’ll share a list of the dictionaries I own, including several Native American dictionaries. I particularly want to write a post on my Comanche dictionaries.

Today, we had our parent teacher day at Bastrop High School in Morehouse Parish in Northeast Louisiana. The hours were from 10:30 a.m. until 6:00 p.m. I enjoyed it actually, for the late start allowed me to accomplish some chores in the morning, and sitting in our school’s cafeteria allowed me to get some writing done. I read a good bit, then wrote a chapter for my western novel (about 1200 words worth). The day actually seemed to fly by. I did meet with several parents of my students, discussing grades, but as usual, there aren’t enough parents concerned about their children. A few of these meetings were really upbeat, as the grades were good, others were less upbeat and we talked of how the student might improve or turn around their grades. Nevertheless, coming home so late, I feel wiped out. I’ve written some poems tonight, but am fast wearing out. I’ve got books to read! My schedule is in high gear this next week, and I’m feeling that pressure too. But as usual, when I have time like this to just sit and think, I did have some great ideas for stories. Wish me luck.

Tonight, I played my guitar and sang from 5:00-7:00 p.m. at Sterlington Elementary School. They had a rotational program, and every thirty minutes I was supposed to do another set. I was with the 2nd grade teachers, and though the emphasis was on Scotland, the title was Music of the Celts.

I did my usual favorites, and even a few songs I’d never done before, and it went well. It’s amazing what a good microphone will do to improve a mediocre voice. It was a night of experimentation, and I discovered that my favorite songs to sing, were also the ones I did best, and it seemed, the ones the crowd liked best. “The Water is Wide” was best received. (E.B. please note that), but my original song, “Cry, Little Artillery Man” was also well received, and I received several comments on that song as well. Other songs I performed that the crowds liked in the sets were, “Come out you Black and Tans”; a Burns poem I had put to music about the love of his life, Jeanne Amour; “Monaghan’s Lament”; and “Botany Bay,” a sad song about the ugly transportation practices of the British.

The second grade teachers at Sterlington Elementary who had sponsored me were gracious, complimentary, and I thought sharp women. I was impressed with both their abilities and their attitudes. I sold a few books (Stories of the Confederate South) and did some publicity talks on my soon to be published children’s book, Jim Limber Davis: A Black Orphan in the Confederate White House.

I taught school today, then had bus duty, then drove to Sterlington. I changed into my kilt and played the two hours without stopping, without even sitting down. I think that is a sign I was really into the evening. Many of the adults asked me questions about my Scottish attire, and as I had opportunity I talked to the crowd about the Celtic nations and Civil War history. I’m tired, but I must say it’s been a good day.

Here is a poem I wrote about the origin of Valentine’s Day. I did take some liberties in interpretation of the good saint’s life.

Valentine’s Day Poem

A day for exchanging messages,

Poems, gifts, wooden love-spoons,

A day of love lotteries,

A time when you could

Wear your heart on your sleeve.

A day of choices,

Selecting one’s patron saint,

Remembering one’s friends, or

Select a lover for cupid’s arrows.

On the Eve of Lupercalia,

Young men would

Draw the name of their

Future lover from a box,

Dating their choice through the festival,

Their version of spin-the-bottle,

Sometimes it worked out well . . .

There aren’t enough soldiers,” Claudius II said.

“Where have all the young men gone?”

“Gone to young girls every one,” his advisors replied.

So the emperor Claudius cancelled

All engagements and weddings.

The priest Valentine ignored his edict,

Meeting couples in homes and catacombs,

Marrying them secretly,

Tying his name forever to love.

Claudius was not pleased.

Valentine was arrested and sentenced to death.

That night, the jailer’s daughter

Visited him in his cell,

A sweetheart from his pre-priest days,

And they fell in love again.

After she left, he left her a simple note:

Always your Valentine.

The first Valentine note.

The next day, he was

Beaten to death with clubs,

Followed by a mandatory decapitation.

Yes, Valentine lost his head.

That often happens when you meddle

In things of the heart.

Today is Valentine’s Day, which in Morehouse Parish is spent in kids picking up delivered valentines–huge bears, balloons, flowers, baskets full of cokes and chocolates, and other items. Though some schools in Northeast Louisiana do not allow deliveries, Morehouse Parish does. I think it’s a good idea here. The custom is definitely a boost to our rural economy and an exciting day for the kids. Their faces beam as they carry about their gifts. True, not much will get done in academics, but aren’t we supposed to nurture the “whole” student? I do try to teach them the history of Valentine’s Day, and I try to ooh and aw over their gifts. It’s a day that makes them feel special.

Valentine’s Day: A day for romance, of gifts, kisses, and poems. A day that helps us think of “love.” It’s a shame it only happens once a year.

After finishing Anthem by Ayn Rand and discussing with my students the horrid world of the dystopian novels, one of my students made this observation: “It’s like the whole society is enslaved.” That led to a discussion about types of slavery. Then this morning I found a news article that pointed out there are three types: Political slavery (when one nation conquers another), civil slavery (when a government enslaves its own people by taking away rights, etc), and domestic slavery (when one man is subjected to another man, i.e., considered property, or used for work purposes, possibly even a bad marriage could be a type of slavery).

As it’s February, Black History Month, the slavery discussion is relevant. I’m using many articles from a great site called, Issues & Views–So You Still Think All Blacks Think Alike? This site is based in Washington D.C. and the articles are written by black conservatives. Excellent material! You can visit this site here:
http://www.issues-views.com/ Do your students a favor and tell them about it too.

Last night, I finished my reading of Ayn Rand’s novel Anthem. It was a timely finish for two reasons: First of all, my gifted students had “requested” to read it over the weekend so we could discuss it today; and second of all, I finished before 8:00 p.m. so I could watch the HBO series, Rome. I am completely addicted to that series. I’ve always been fascinated with ancient Roman history, and this series–though admittedly the writers get some of their facts wrong–has an edge and puts human faces (some of them very pretty) to men and women of history. Back to Anthem.

I’m wondering how Anthem will affect my gifted students. I am confident it will in some way, but I’m not sure what theme will most get to them. Will it be the fact that the protagonist dared to love the woman of his choice in a loveless world? (The romance of the “Golden One” and “The Unconquered One,” who later call themselves Gaea and Prometheus, is a touching romance.) Will my students appreciate books more? The power of science? Will they understand the potential cruelty of man and the devastating power of ignorance?

Maybe at least the novel will motivate them to have the courage to “stand alone.”

The Sons of Confederate Veterans march every year in W. Monroe-Monroe’s annual Mardi Gras Parade. This year, the weather was great–quite cool, but clear–and the crowd was huge. I haven’t heard an estimated number of the crowd yet. We fired a boatload of blank bullets as we marched the six mile route, drawing cheers from the crowd every time we fired a volley. Along with the 39 men toting muskets, there were three trailers playing music, two bearing a cannon each (though we no longer are able to fire the cannon, as they set off too many car alarms) and we had a great host of flag and banner bearers both men and women in Antebellum dresses. In their coverage of the event, I was told the local TV news station even included a shot of me marching. Once again, I am a TV star.

This part of Louisiana is a Confederate friendly area, and I would say that over 90% of the crowd were enthusiastic and supportive of us, the men wearing the gray and bearing the Battle Flag; 7% of the crowd were ambivalent; and only a very few, perhaps 3%, were hostile. Most of those were quite intoxicated, and judging by their vocabulary, not the type who read books or know history and who are not likely to show up on Jeopardy or any game show that requires a demonstration of knowledge.

After we marchers returned to our vehicles, a few of us went to Bennigans for burgers and pints of Guinness. I thought about why we do this marching, and when I see the excitement of the crowds, I know: Southerners love their heritage, and they like being reminded of it. When they look at us marching, in our period costumes, firing our muskets in a salute to them and to our history, they are once again connected to a rich past, to their ancestors and they feel pride in being a Southerner.

By the way, Yankee Civil War reenactors very seldom march in parades in the South. There must be a reason . . .