Five Happiness: A Flower in New Orleans

Amazed, I witness the birth of a tiny bud-I watch it's progress from seed to flower. The first time the sprout breaks the soil of it's own purpose and begins to stretch toward light, I sense the new stem desire to bend before it bends. As first leaves form they yawn like open hands in broad sun, closing gently at the approach of dark. A blossom where yesterday there was no blossom, was white, was pink, is red, is redder still. Slender petal after delicate petal uncurls cautiously, then riotous and joyful, exploring the sense and senses gained in exploration. And they ripple tenderly in breezes, they wince slightly in soft rains, they shrug at suggestion of cold, and withdraw at the grazing predator's approach.

A gardener's masterful touch is learned after many hours of careful study and labor, but the new parent must follow instinct, though wisely honed by the advice of predecessors. I feel like a Darwin, or a Livingstone of child rearing. I am in uncharted territory with this new breed of flower, this unknown native of a distant land. But I do know its antecedents.

Felicity and I travelled to my antecedents' homeland, New Orleans with Tallulah and her "Kiki" Carol Ann (my Mom) last week. Our principle mission involved introducing Lula to her paternal Great Grandmother, Jeanette Gros, my only living grandparent by blood. But we also shared Lu with several cousins, some friends, and my Uncle, Kiki's brother, Buddy Ganier.

Tallulah with Great Grandmother, Jeanette

In brief, my birth name was Bradley Denis Gros. My father, Eric Marcel Gros, born in Thibodaux, Louisiana, grew up in the same house in which my Grandmother still lives. They built it in the early '50s shortly after she came to America from Europe where she married my Grandfather, Denis Gros. My middle name is in his honor. When my father passed away, I changed my last name to match my Step-Father's, but in blood I remain half Ganier and half Gros.

As my Grandmother's only grandson, it was vital to me she get the opportunity to experience her newest family member before progressing age prevented her full appreciation. She is 83 now and though moving slower, is still a force of nature. She was born in Pont de Neuson, France, the youngest of three children. Her family moved back to Poland soon after. Her oldest brother, Kazimir, was a gymnast. Had he joined the circus against his parent's wishes, he would not have been killed by the Germans in Buchenwald.

Her nearest brother, Stefan, escaped Auschwitz by swimming through rivers. Jeanette, (from the Polish, Janinne,) and her parents were held in Vichy run work camps in France until the liberation. A young Cajun sergeant befriended her, and because she spoke fluent French, Polish, and German, found her very useful in local dealings. He fell in love with her, and they married.

Jeanette's wedding dress was made from the recycled silk of parachutes. It was a thing of beauty. When Denis could not accompany his new bride back home, she came to the United States alone, at age twenty. She was processed through Ellis Island, and took a train to New Orleans, and then Thibodeaux, all with no English. She has lived there ever since. She still speaks with a thick Polish accent, full of lyric rolled R's.

I admire few people on this earth as much as my Grandmother, who has endured such hardships including the death of so many loved ones. Tallulah is as much a gift to her as she is to me. I treasure the moments spent in their company. As I sat watching Jeanette hold my daughter, my mother looking on, I felt my late father touch me, reciting a litany of joy that sounded like breezes through the oak trees outside. I felt an inward rustle of leaves, and each one opened and smiled.