"A self that goes on changing is a self that goes on living."
----Virginia Woolf, English writer
For those with a definitive occupation, the answer to the proverbial icebreaker - what do you do? - comes easy. But for the rest of us, it induces some soul searching. And it could not come at a better time, on the cusp of my 13th year writing this column and a milestone birthday year.
Rubbing elbows in Franklinton with a lovely lady who, not a Washington Parish native or resident, popped the question, I was flummoxed. Not from here, she really could not have known me, or the answer. But she knew enough to add a little twist, "What do you do since you don't practice law?" That transition took place so long ago, I had to rack my brain. But not for long.
My acquaintance was right about my retirement. And it had come just in the nick of time. While I remain a member of the Louisiana State Bar Association, I retired from Liskow & Lewis in the late twentieth century to tend to my precious toddler Marjorie Elizabeth (Betsy); my saint of a husband Rodney; and my beloved parents - Col. (ret) Cecil C. Ellzey and Margie Nell Brumfield Ellzey who born in 1919 and 1925, respectively, were rapidly aging. An only child, I had been born to them late in life. Momma had been thirty-nine, and Daddy forty-five.
Pragmatic, I continued for a short period working part-time for the firm, and as an assistant bar examiner, I graded bar exams for the Louisiana State Bar Association. But by the time of Daddy's leave taking in 1999, I was totally retired and devoted to my family. Fortunately so, because my mother suffered a medical ordeal the year following, and it took another year or so to get her back on her feet. We had a small, functional wing added to our home where Momma enjoyed her last decade - some of her best years and mine. Felicity, all around. But nothing lasts forever.
Once I became an empty nester in 2010 and lost Momma in 2011, I began cobbling words together - courageously publishing missives written by my father in Europe to my mother in Franklinton during the Second World War, which constituted their courtship a continent apart in the early 1940s. And like my mother I became a history buff and voracious reader. As a member of the Pierre de Mandeville Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution; the Magnolia, Mississippi chapter of The Colonial Dames XVII Century; the Solomon Magee Chapter of the Daughters of 1812; and The Order of The First Families of Mississippi 1699 - 1817, I enjoy genealogy.
While I am not bold enough to brand myself a gardener, I continue steadfast membership, of nearly thirty years, in the Beau Chene Garden Club. And belonging to the Northshore Camellia Club, I treasure my own camellias. With most of mine at my farm in Washington Parish, I collect them sort of like antiques. An antiquarian, I am. But my role as an avid antique dealer in St. Francisville came to an end last year.
A preservationist, I wrote and presented the nomination of my mother's home place - the farm which we frequent - in northeast Washington Parish to the National Register State Review Committee in Baton Rouge. After the forwarding of the nomination to the National Park Service, Department of the Interior, in Washington, D.C., the Brumfield Homestead was entered on September 24, 2014, into the National Register of Historic Places under the provisions of the National Historic Preservation Act of 1966. So, it was natural for me to join Historic New England, a regional heritage organization, in the area where our daughter Betsy and son-in-law Erik live.
A homebody by nature, I have been transformed perforce into a traveler, however reluctant. Journeying to visit our kids - the doctors are finishing their fellowships - has become routine. And their location - a gateway - in the Northeast facilitates expeditions. While summer plans have Rodney and me sailing out of Boston to Quebec City and Montreal, I have long been committed to seeing more of our own country, visiting the official Presidential Libraries and Museums. After our visit to the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum in Boston, we embarked on this mission with gusto.
It helps to be an Airstreamer (a member of Airstream Club International and the Louisiana Airstream Club), making regional and weekend travel a breeze. Plus, the Airstream allows our nine-year-old Cavalier King Charles Spaniel - little Watson - to accompany us on weekends. I do love dogs. For Watson and his predecessor Benjie, I have belonged to the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel Club of Greater Houston for more than twenty years.
Together with Betsy, I belong to the Krewe of Iris, the oldest and largest all-female Krewe in the city of New Orleans. And I sedulously play bridge, a game not for the faint of heart. In this endeavor, I am a member of the American Contract Bridge League and the Mandeville Bridge Club and a Franklinton foursome - Dianne Green, Judy Ferrante, Pat Berthelot, and yours truly. A pleasurable pastime, providing congenial competition and comradery.
While I raised my daughter in First Baptist Church of Mandeville, in recent years I moved my letter to First Baptist Church Covington where Rodney and I worship. In my youth, I was baptized in the First Baptist Church of Franklinton.
What I do always brings me back to my hometown. I relish this enterprise, of more than a decade, at The Era-Leader where I am a newspaper columnist. A dream job if there ever was one. As Julia Roberts said in "Pretty Woman," "If I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time…."
