“When you hit twenty-two, it changes the game…”
…said my friend, referring to her lucky number as we played our own “terrific” version of poker in between blood pressure readings, bed changes, and doctor’s visits.
I’m in the hospital again, sharing life’s challenges with an ill friend who, although I’ve taken pages of notes about a truly, as she would say, “sensational life,” insists she remain anonymous, as she nurtures an elegant and abiding need for privacy.
“You’re seeing the real me, Wendy, and I hope you like it; ’cause as they say, I ain’t gonna change.”
I’m away from George for a week now, in what may become several weeks, or months, on a life’s journey we both knew only I could make … and must. These are the times when one follows one’s instincts and simply tries to do the right thing.
So, no blogging from me for a while, and limited facebook interaction. It is likely that The Other Side of the Painting will hit bookstores October 1 without me. But we’ll celebrate later, and I have every intention of seeing you at confirmed dates such as the Carmel Art and Film Festival (10/9 – 10/13), Coffee and Conversation (10/16), Ogden After Hours (10/17), and the Louisiana Book Festival (11/2).
I’ll be back as soon as possible, notes in hand, sharing the life and art of George Rodrigue, with a few “sensational” vignettes on the side.
Until we meet again, blessings, good health, and happiness to you all. Oh, and in case I haven’t said it lately, I think you’re just terrific–
9 thoughts on “Lucky 22”
Thank you for this terrific tiny peek into the heart of a cherished friend. I believe that one of the greatest gifts is a fond remembrance. Your friend will have that always.
Oh Wendy, my heart hurts for you during this time. I've been where you are and it is an ache that goes indescribably deep. Your friend is in good hands with you by her side!
As Snuffy Smith says, You're gooder'n ary angel. I will wear sunglasses for coffee and conversation, because I know I'm going to cry.
Facebook won't be the same without a Blue Dog or a Cajun on the News Feed. You will certainly be missed but you're where you need to be. I look forward to seeing you at Coffee and Conversation. Until then, prayers, good thoughts, and lots of love, to you and to your friend.
Thank you, Friends, for these dear comments and well wishes.
My lucky number is 801, which was my address on Elysian Fields. It can be seen as Everything, Nothing and One. I've got extreme luck, which can be good or bad.
801 in the Marigny was the last time I had an apartment. I borrowed money from a north-shore collector and bought and minivan to travel and paint. A month later when I was unpacking my things, putting them into storage up north, Katrina hit.
The "right thing" is a tough path to walk, but I believe the desire is of the utmost importance for our souls. This world would be a much better place if more people wanted to do the "right thing" and practiced being objective enough to attempt it.
Sometimes there is no right thing to do. Sometimes best is all we can get.
Lucky #801….. I will remember that. Thank you, Robert, and the best to you- Wendy
Hi Wendy, I have an Artist's Proof of "The Crawfish Boil" signed by Rodrigue in about 1979-1981. It features "Mom" and "Pop" wearing chef bibs with crawfish printed on them standing with another elderly gentleman in front of several containers of crawfish. Also in the proof are an accordian player with an elderly male friend by his side, 2 young male Cajuns drinking beer and listening to music, and 4 people sitting at a table peeling crawfish (looks like 2 women and 2 men). In the background is a large oak tree and a shack. I cannot find anything on the internet about "The Crawfish Boil" Do you have information on it?
Hi Clint, Thank you for your inquiry. I asked our Curator of Exhibitions, Marney Robinson, to email you regarding information on your print. Best, Wendy
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