Thursday, April 22, 2010

The Big House

    Here is where it all began. It is just a cottage constructed of timber and lots of pine, but it ranks up there with the Taj Mahal in my mind. It is certainly one of the seven wonders of my world and will be until the day that I die.
Originally built as a fishing shack by my great-grandmother, Annie Frances Smith Brooks (Mama Frankie to us) in 1926 on the then-hard-to-reach Cinco Bayou, this humble Big House, as it came to be known, was open each year for family gatherings from Memorial Day to Labor Day. There the Brooks-Scofield-Banks-Rushing Clan would gather. And gather we did. My great-great aunts owned homes on either side of the Big House and afternoons and evenings were where we all found ourselves firmly ensconced  in lawn chairs under the live oak trees in front of our house. It was there that I learned to appreciate our family history (some of it colorful and much of it embroidered I am sure). It was there that I found sanctuary, community and a respite from the struggles of life. It was there that I found peace and much joy. The relationships forged with cousins and family have more than stood the test of time. So it was fitting when the five cousins got together for our first-ever Bosom Bottom Buddy Club reunion, that we should once again visit this place where it all began.

1 comment :

  1. Kathy, these pics are little treasures! I think that is so amazing that you have tangibles to hold connect you to the past. I love reading your blog! thanks for sharing your heart:)
    lindsay Jennings


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