In the Headlights

Gwen Roland

I recently did a post about the fact that Atchafalaya Houseboat, Gwen Roland's book was going to be the subject of a documentary on PBS, August 31 at 10:30 PM.

I said I couldn't find my 2006 post about the book, but just now found it. Thanks, Google.

I think one of the reasons for my fascination with Roland and the book is that it took us to a primeval Eden, one attainable, perhaps even today, with enough hard work. I guess I lived vicariously with Gwen and Calvin.  I found it interesting that her retrospectoscope, at least according to the documentary, doesn't view it quite that way.

A couple of days ago, I received, to my delight, an email from Gwen herself.  It was prompted by the fact that she thinks we look like we might be kin, maybe with a not-too-remote branching of the family tree.  Who knows?  It pleases me to think it might be so.

In the meantime, Gwen is a writer on a number of topics.  She pens a monthly piece on sustainable agriculture for Mother Earth News, and continues to live a responsible, seemingly idyllic existence.  In this case, the grass probably really IS greener.

Thanks for the email, Cousin Gwen.  I'll be happy to attend the next family reunion.

[Image via Mother Earth News]

Atchafalaya Houseboat, 30 Years Later

I read and blogged about a book that was given to me by my friend Cate, who told me that it reminded her of me (for no reason that I can fathom):  Atchafalaya Houseboat:  My years in the Louisiana Swamp.  That was June 12, 2006.  I can find it by searching the archives, but can't seem to link to it.

It was the story of Gwen Roland and Calvin Voisin, who, in the 1970's escaped "civilization" by building a houseboat on which they lived in the Louisiana Bayou for nearly ten years.  They lived pretty much as our pioneer ancestors would have, catching and growing their food, trading for other goods. 

One of the people they met then was C.C. Lockwood a wonderful nature photographer.  He photographed Gwen and Calvin  over those years.  One of them was featured in National Geographic's 100 Best Pictures.

Now, thirty years later, Louisiana Public Broadcasting has produced a documentary about those days, as well as a retrospective view of the tim, hosted and narrated by Gwen Roland, the program features many of Lockwood's gorgeous photos of the swamp, evoking its beauty and making me yearn for such a life, surrounded by nature, sleeping when it's dark, working hard, eating well, sharing your life with animals and a afew Bayou denizens. 

The show airs August 31 at 10:30 PM Eastern Time.  I had the privilege to preview it.  The sheer visual beauty of the setting and the photos is enough to make it must-see.  Roland's commentary and her meeting with Voisin and Lockwood after thirty years is also compelling, as is her retrospective view of her life back then and the twists and turns it has taken since.   Looking back is somewhat difficult for her, perhaps not the idyllic hindsight I'd have expected, but the reality we all experience looking closely at our pasts.

[Purchase CC Lockwood's book at buy.com]

[Image of Gwen Roland today from Fresh Fiction]

Good Bye, Dandelion

Today, I had my beautiful, sweet cat, Dandelion put to sleep.  He was young, only about twelve.  Red found him on the back porch when he was a kitten;  I don't think he weighed an ounce back then (almost 18 lbs. at the vet today).  He was a ball of grey fluff, and looked like a dandelion week, hence the name, though he became "Dandy" or "Dan"  (officially, Dan de Lion).

He was a Mama's boy and a sweetie pie, a very loving cat.

He stopped eating about three days ago, and yesterday I found a lump on his chest.  I took him to the emergency vet today, because the regular vet was closed due to Tropical Storm Faye.  They did some tests while I went home, and they called me a little later to tell me he had had a respiratory arrest.  The chest x-ray they had done showed an enlarged heart and some fluid in his lungs.  He had congestive heart failure.  He wasn't breathing hard when I brought him in, so I guess the stress of being put in the cat carrier (he was always afraid of the carrier and going to the vet), plus several attempted IV sticks tipped him over the edge.

I returned to the vet and petted him, looking into his big green eyes as he was euthanized.

Goodbye, Dandy.  I miss you so much.