How I Grew Up

I literally grew up in a living, breathing hub of culture and history and preservation. My childhood was unusual in that I was a late in life child and was surrounded by adults. The work my Mom, Janet Ravare Colson, started doing to promote and preserve Creole culture meant that the adults I was surrounded by were academics, historians, storytellers, musicians and artists. I received an eclectic and priceless education about the arts, preservation and culture.

Years before the Creole Heritage Center, at Northwestern State University in Natchitoches, LA, was formed it existed in our living room. My Mom had her computer set up there and that’s where she did her work long after she got home from her actual job. She went to countless meetings with the St. Augustine Historical Society to work towards creating a Center that would be permanent and vibrant. A Center that would encompass all things related to Creole culture, heritage and history.

As a Child

When all the other girls my age were cheerleaders, in dance class or sleepovers, I was in a library doing research and going through rolls and rolls of microfilm (remember those? Pre-internet). I was always at a conference, a meeting or at someones house where I was almost always the only child there. While I may have complained once or twice, now I know that what I learned, heard and experienced would shape my future. 

I had the opportunity to grow up listening to incredible speeches, academic lectures and presentations. I learned how to be a storyteller but more importantly why the story was so important to tell. We often don’t do enough to acknowledge how our past has created our future. Look to your past for lessons, knowledge and experience even in the most painful of moments. 

I grew up in a non-profit, I was surrounded by it. That’s why I continue to do that work today, it’s what I know. Working in the non-profit field for over 25 years and leading a Foundation that I am proud of. I use all of those experiences I had, I remember the talks and more importantly the conversations I heard. I was engaged in a way most kids aren’t and learned so much, whether I wanted the information or not.

With my Dad

My mom did her work and after my Dad recovered from a long illness he did his as well. He became The File’ Man and a master storyteller. He taught about old buildings and bousillage and of the people that lived in the houses. Telling stories about Cane River and it’s families, trees and fields and front porch conversations. 

I rode with him every Sunday to my Grandmothers house down on the River. I got to go do my own “visiting” to great aunts and uncles for cake and candy and a sip of beer and good music. As I got older those porches fell empty and the music stopped playing, it was more important than ever to hold on tight to those reins of history and culture before they disappeared. 

I grew up.

But I keep the stories, the lessons, the tradition, what is culture inside me.