"If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn't brood. I'd type a little faster."
---Isaac Asimov, biochemistry professor at Boston University and famous American writer.
My arrival at "The Era-Leader" in January of 2012 was as much of a surprise to me, as anyone. Having unexpectedly lost my mother Margie Nell Brumfield Ellzey the summer before, I suddenly found myself frequently in Franklinton. That I had inherited Momma's home place, that of my grandparents' T. C. and Emma Jenkins Brumfield, in the bucolic country was a contributing cause.
The ancestral property, since listed on the National Register of Historical Places, was homesteaded by my great-grandfather Thomas Hezekiah Brumfield in the late 1800's, and the farmhouse was where Momma married my daddy, Col. (Ret.) Cecil Ellzey, in 1946. It was these deep roots that drew this long-time Mandeville resident home to what natives call God's country - Washington Parish.
And as it turned out, it was my raising in the piney woods that led to my writing about it, in "The Line." The on-the-job training during my youth at the Bogalusa Community Medical Center, having taught me the skill of listening to staff and patients, came in real handy. And it gave me friends and resources, from which to draw, on the eastern side of the parish. Similarly, the blessing of growing up to the west, gave me familiarity with local people, places, and things in my hometown of Franklinton.
The past, which I glorify, is something many are mired in. As friend Sandi Miller, mother of my dear friend the late Stephanie Miller Bienvenu, reminded me, "Remembering the past gives power to the present." Once I became immersed in it, the wheels started spinning, and the keys began clicking. Only a typewriter could have heightened my felicity.
And then, the mail began coming, fast and furious. Glen Campbell described it best, "Getting cards and letters from people I don't even know." I kept each and every one, except for the one item of hate mail. My husband intercepted that solitary piece, early on. But I couldn't be a real columnist without it. It was, in fact, Winston Churchill who once said, "You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life." Guilty as charged.
Hearing from benevolent subscribers from coast to coast, I have been astounded by the reach of "The Era-Leader." And our newspaper travels even beyond our country's borders. On one of his five active-duty military deployments, Col. and Dr. John Whithurst "Whit" Gallaspy informed me that he passed my columns of September 2019, which featured my father and the local National Guard, around amongst the troops in Kuwait where he was serving with the Louisiana National Guard 225th Engineer Brigade. This would have tickled my dad, former National Guard Commander.
But back to the States and a specimen from the mailbox - in early 2018 I received a lovely letter from Elsie B. Kemp of N. Chesterfield, Virginia, and originally of Franklinton. Ms. Kemp's graceful penmanship made me swoon when I saw it. Her content revealed the genuine connection she felt to Mrs. Barber's Café, which I had featured in this column. Truth be told, I appreciate Ms. Kemp far more than she appreciated me, though her sentiment on paper might lead one to think otherwise.
"The Line" would not be possible without you. Pre-covid, you let me in your homes. Post-covid, you let me into your lives. Thank you, for your stories and support. Thus far, there have been over 500 installments of "The Line" with topics running the gamut. I never thought this gig would last a decade. Yet, amazing subjects continue to surface - fodder for me. While some derive from memory, others require research - I relish digging into the past. And shooting the moon - with a behind-the-scenes tour of the Franklinton Post Office and mail delivery with Tracy Taylor (Rural Carrier Associate) on a local rural route. One example of the extraordinary adventures this column has supplied me.
Looking back, all my parents ever wanted was for me to amount to something - well that, and to love history, like they did. Prior to their demise, I didn't have any interest, not one whit, in the days of yore. And born in 1964, some twenty years post-war, I knew little - more's the pity - of my own father's World War II service. But my beloved parents' leave-taking strangely transformed me into a history buff. Saddled with insatiable curiosity, I suddenly wanted to know everything, not only about my dad's military service but also yours. Add to that, life stories. I have gone after them tooth and nail.
Interestingly, it's the very folks who think they don't have a story who do --- which reminds me of the wonderful World War II veteran whose interview I scheduled with his daughter. The day before our rendezvous, the legendary Ed Logan phoned, expressing surprise that we were to meet. I was astonished at what he said next, "Let me tell you, I'm no Keith Waddell (a United States Air Force bomber pilot and prince of a man I had recently featured in my column)." Admittedly, few are, but the late Mr. Logan - World War II hero, esteemed educator, and true gentleman, in his own right - had the most significant, honorable life story that he humbly had not, to my knowledge, disclosed. Thankfully, he relented, allowing the recordation of his valuable contribution to our country. I miss all the old soldiers.
Worshipping on Christmas Eve at Trinity Church in Boston where Phillips Brooks (1835-1893) was the long-time Rector, I reflected afterwards on his legendary preaching and general teaching. "Set yourself earnestly to see what you are made to do, and then set yourself earnestly to do it," he said. It would take me forty-seven years.
I never dreamed - my folks wouldn't believe it - that I would be writing for "The Era-Leader," the newspaper which I've revered all my life. And now, like the cat that got the cream, I can't imagine anything else. Thank you for a terrific ten years, and counting! I am much obliged.
