This blog is dedicated to the first mixed-race settlers who came to Louisiana in the early 1800s. Two hundred years later their descendants number in the thousands and are still bonded as a people through marriage and shared experiences. Most of us call each other cousin. We are beginning to call ourselves Redbones. We don't own the word, so a lot of people are inclined to get us mixed up with other mixed-race people in Louisiana.
In telling these old stories of these folks, there is one thing that is
confirmed time and time again for me about a wish I have had all of my
life. That wish being, that I would have been able to just meet and
sit and talk with these people of mind for just a week. Just imagine
the history and details of the different stories and tales we have
heart that has been told over and over. We could have learned the
truth, too. I would be willing to bet that the truth wouldn't be far
from the way we know the stories today.
We buried Terry at Good Hope Cemetery. There are six generations of his ancestors buried there. I want to imagine them sitting out on God's front porch in their rocking chairs, laughing and remembering their stories. Terry's going to get a proper welcome, I know that's a fact. While he's going to want to hear their versions of some of the stories he's heard, they're going to want to hear him telling about growing up in Redbone country in the 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, and 10s. Oh sure, they may watch down and look out for us, but nobody told a story like Terry. They're going to want to hear his version.
Rest in peace, Terry, rest in peace. I am a better man having known you.
It's going to take me awhile to get over losing you.