Our haunted national parks

            Halloween spooks are everywhere these days. No longer is the annual holiday relegated to tykes and teens; the Celtic New Year’s Eve now attracts every walk of life with events held in every corner of this great and ghoulish nation.

            The National Park Service, not to be outdone, is now getting in on the act. There are several fall festivals held throughout the U.S. offering freakish fun — some even hair-raising!

            DeSoto National Memorial in Brandenton, Florida, for instance, will host “DeSoween VI: Return of the Desoween” from 6:30 p.m. to 9 p.m. Saturday, Oct. 25. The event includes “restless spirits, zombies, night creatures, and the most terrifying monster to encounter in the dark, CLOWNS,” according to the park web site.

            I definitely see the connection between Conquistador Hernando de Soto and clowns. Don’t you?

            This terrifying night at the national memorial won’t cost you a dime, either, and is “suitable for ages 7 and up,” they say. For information, call (941) 792-0458 or click here.

            Park rangers with the National Mall and Memorial Parks in our nation’s capital of Washington, D.C., explore the tragedies that have occurred at the Washington Monument with "Strange but True!" from 8 p.m. to 10 p.m. Halloween night. The event is also free. For more information, call Kathy Kagle at (202) 438-5377.
            Not really scary and not a Halloween event, the Vicksburg National Military Park in Vicksburg, Mississippi, offers a tragic step back in time with “Shadows of the Past” beginning at 6 p.m. Saturday, Nov. 1. Tours will depart every half hour until 8:30 p.m. for an evening candlelight walk with historical personalities. The battlefield was the site of ferocious fighting and death so who knows who will be following behind you in the dark.
            For more information on the parks and other events, visit http://www.nps.gov/index.htm.

Tom’s Wall outside Florence, Alabama, is a reflection in patience and love

Originally published Nov. 25, 2009, in The Advertiser, Lafayette, Louisiana

Tom Hendrix

            Our tourism hosts wouldn’t explain where we were going as we drove along the winding woods of northern Alabama as part of a recent press tour. “You just have to see it,” our guides told us.

            Fall was slipping into the area, with a few maples and other hardwoods showing their colors, and a crisp breeze urged us to pull our jackets a little tighter together. We stopped alongside a cotton field and a woman hailing from Seattle immediately headed for a boll, ready to pluck the soft interior out to bring home as a souvenir until she realized wet cotton felt like, well, wet cotton.

            Tom Hendrix wandered out of his driveway across the street, curious as to why we were stalling.

            “The Yankees have to take a photo of the cotton,” our host yelled back.

            Hendrix laughed, as did the Southern journalists among us, but he didn’t appear surprised. After all, he gets hundreds of visitors a year to this remote location, from all corners of the globe.

            They come to see his wall.

            Hendrix’s story begins in the 1930s, when his grandmother used to tell him stories about his family, particularly his great-great-grandmother, Mary Hipp, aka Te-lah-naya a Yuchi Indian. Hipp had lived along the banks of the Tennessee River in what is now Lauderdale County, believing as many of her people did that a woman within the river’s water sang to the residents.

            In the 1830s, Hipp and her teenage sister, like many Native Americans of that time, were deported from 9 miles south of Florence to Oklahoma on the infamous Trail of Tears. They were given silver tags with numbers on them; Hipp’s was “59.”

            But the waters didn’t sing in Oklahoma, and Hipp dreamed of her mother beckoning her home.

            Even though her sister adjusted to life in Oklahoma, Hipp insisted on returning to Alabama. She spent five years on the road, hiding to keep from getting caught. When she arrived back in the Florence area around 1845, she met a white farmer who married her.

            Hendrix researched this amazing woman’s story, having her “59” button as evidence of her remarkable return. He eventually traveled to Oklahoma to speak with members of the Yuchi tribe, who accepted him as one of their own. After much introspection, Hendrix decided to build a wall on his property, stones stretching to the right in honor of Hipp’s journey to Oklahoma and one stretching to the left for her long walk home. A tribal elder advised him to lay one stone for every step she took.

            The result is a massive stone wall on either side of his multi-acred property, complete with benches and places to rest and contemplate, plus a sacred prayer circle. The wall consists of 23 million pounds of stones, created in 32 years by one man.

            “For 32 years I’ve laid one stone at a time,” Hendrix told us.

            “Tom’s Wall,” as the locals call it, is the largest un-mortared wall and the largest memorial to a Native American woman in the United States. On top of his handiwork are stones from more than 100 indigenous tribes throughout the world, a 1907 meteorite, shells from Acadiana, a leather pouch with tokens, beaded necklaces, crystals and other items brought to Hendrix from many continents, even Antarctica.

            But more than the stones is the spiritual nature of the place. As visitors walk the length of the wall, on average about five feet high and spanning several football fields long, sunlight trickles down through the dense woods and birds are heard overhead. There’s a divine peacefulness here, born of love and devotion to an ancestor who would not give up.

The Prayer Circle

            After a tour of the grounds, the group headed back to the van, some still fascinated by that cotton field. I longed to stay within the loving arms of Tom’s Wall, gravitating to the prayer circle and thinking of my own grandmothers, the strongest women I’ve known. After offering them both a prayer and letting them know how much I missed them, I could almost feel their comforting hands on my shoulders. Hendrix gave me a hug upon leaving, and quietly slipped a jasper arrowhead into my hand.

            I could have sworn he saw them, too.

Wanna know more? Click here for a story by NatchezTraceTravel.com.

Cheré Coen is an award-winning travel writer specializing in the Deep South. She is also the author of “Forest Hill, Louisiana: A Bloom Town History,” “Haunted Lafayette, Louisiana” and “Exploring Cajun Country: A Historic Guide to Acadiana” and co-author of “Magic’s in the Bag: Creating Spellbinding Gris Gris Bags and Sachets.” Write her at cherecoen@gmail.com.

Louisiana’s Poverty Point is some sweet, yeah!

Lt. Gov. Jay Dardenne with a scale model 

of Poverty Point made out of Mounds bars.

            In the northeastern corner of the Bayou State lies a series of Native American mounds and structured city like no other. The 3,400-year-old site named Poverty Point — for the plantation owner who struggled on the land in recent times, not the ancient natives — the site consisted of several earthen ridges stretched in a semi-circle facing a wide plaza with various mounds scattered about and a giant earthen bird in the rear with its wings stretching outward.

            Poverty Point is considered one of the most culturally significant Native American sites in the United States, but don’t take our word for it. The archaeological treasure was just named a UNESCO World Heritage site.

            In honor of Poverty Point being named the 1001^st site inscribed to the UNESCO World Heritage List, the Hershey Company donated 1,001 Mounds candy bars to celebrate. (Get it? Mounds candy?) Louisiana Lt. Gov. Jay Dardenne requested the bars last month to hand out at the site’s inscription ceremony beginning at 10 a.m. Oct. 11, 2014, in Epps, Louisiana. Pictured is Dardenne creating his own Poverty Point in Mounds bars.

            The ceremony will include the unveiling of the UNESCO World Heritage Site plaque and remarks by U.S. Sen. Mary Landrieu and dignitaries from the U.S. Department of State and the U.S. Department of the Interior. The ceremony will be followed by a community event including free food and living history demonstrations beginning at 11 a.m.

Sunset over the eagle mound at Poverty Point.

            Poverty Point is the 22nd World Heritage Site in the U.S. and joins the ranks of others worldwide including the Great Wall of China, Stonehenge and the Pyramids of Giza in Egypt. Poverty Point was the U.S. Department of the Interior’s lone nomination for World Heritage status — adding to the site’s accolades as a National Historic Landmark, National Monument and Smithsonian Affiliate.

            But I’ll bet none of the World Heritage Sites or other landmarks were replicated in Mounds candy!

Cheré Coen is an award-winning travel writer specializing in the Deep South. She is also the author of “Forest Hill, Louisiana: A Bloom Town History,” “Haunted Lafayette, Louisiana” and “Exploring Cajun Country: A Historic Guide to Acadiana” and co-author of “Magic’s in the Bag: Creating Spellbinding Gris Gris Bags and Sachets.” Write her at cherecoen@gmail.com.

Dog days of autumn?

            Most people think the saying “dog days of summer” refers to it being so hot that everyone turns into dogs and lies around sleeping.

            The saying actually comes from the period of July through mid-August when Sirius, the dog constellation, is in the sky. Which is also when everyone turns into dogs and lies around sleeping.

            It’s now officially autumn (the first day of fall was Tuesday), but in the Deep South summer weather persists. Which might be why Texas has gone to the dogs.

            This Friday through Sunday, Sept. 26-28, canine athletes from Texas, Oklahoma and Louisiana will compete in the South Central Regional Championship at Discovery Green in the heart of Houston. There will also be a doggie costume contest at 4:30 p.m. Saturday and America’s Got Talent-winning Olate Dogs — a high-energy, fast-paced theatrical act — performing pet tricks at 7 p.m. Saturday and 6 p.m. Sunday. 

            For information, visit http://www.discoverygreen.com.

            Over in Beaumont, from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. Saturday, Oct. 4, it’s DOGtober Fest, a fido-friendly event with food at the Bone Appetit Food Court, music and canine activities such as contests for Master/Dog Look Alike, Cutest Dog, Best Howlin’ Dog and Best Dressed Dog. In addition, there will be Bark Art, The SPAW, The Barkery, PAW Readings, Neiman Barkus shopping, Strutt Your Mutt Parade and more.

            It’s all free and happening at the grassy area between the Julie Rodgers Theatre at 765 Pearl St. and the Beaumont Public Library at 801 Pearl St. in downtown Beaumont.
            DOGtober is presented by Beaumont Main Street and was named Texas’ best downtown event by the Texas Downtown Association in 2013. Can I get a bark? For information, visit http://www.dogtoberfestbeaumont.com/.

Cheré Coen is an award-winning travel writer specializing in the Deep South. She is also the author of “Forest Hill, Louisiana: A Bloom Town History,” “Haunted Lafayette, Louisiana” and “Exploring Cajun Country: A Historic Guide to Acadiana” and co-author of “Magic’s in the Bag: Creating Spellbinding Gris Gris Bags and Sachets.” Write her at cherecoen@gmail.com.

Legendary Flora-Bama bar located on two states celebrates 50 years of Gulf Coast craziness

           We didn’t know which was funnier, the sound engineer dressed in flip flops, a straw hat and a Scottish kilt or Cathy, the leader of the open mic who calls herself the “big butt bitch of the beach.”

            Welcome to the Flora-Bama, titled as such for the fact that it sits on one side of the Alabama state line and the other in Florida and is world-renowned for its rowdiness.

            The Flora-Bama has been a landmark in the Gulf Shores-Orange Beach area since 1964, back when the Alabama coast was called the “Redneck Riviera.” The romping roadhouse with its multiple concert spaces, oyster bar, gift shop, pool hall, beachside bar and eatery and liquor store celebrates its 50^th anniversary this year, still going strong even though the emerald coast has since turned upscale. In addition, the sprawling venue over two states hosts special events, including the immensely popular Mullet Toss where people — yes — toss fish for prizes.

            A few things to note if you’re heading to the state line bar:

            Try the Bushwacker, the bar’s signature drink, a combination of rums and other wonderful ingredients. So creamy and good you’ll forget yourself and your rowdy attitude will fit right in.

            If your date’s a bore or you don’t like the music, try reading the walls. They’re covered with wit from past customers, plus there are some awesome relics from by-gone music days.

            If you’re looking for more sophistication, the Flora-Bama Yacht Club waterfront restaurant is across the street, just behind the Waffle House.

            While we were listening to Cathy belt out crowd favorites in the lounge area closest to the street, we noticed children with parents wondering around and had that bar scene in “Sweet Home Alabama” flitting through our heads, the one where Reese Witherspoon spots an old friend in a bar with a child on her hip and says, “You have a baby…in a bar!” If you must bring kids, you might want to avoid the large bar-concert space toward the back with the bras hanging from the ceiling. The time we visited after Katrina there was a man belting out how much he despised insurance companies in very colorful language.

            And don’t even bother asking the sound engineer what’s beneath his kilt. He’ll do a little striptease that ends up showing another layer beneath, like a tease.

            “Nothing more scary than Velco,” he said when he pulled apart his kilt revealing more fabric. “Just like a shotgun being pulled.”
             After a few Bushwackers, we weren’t scared. Just disappointed. And we yelled out frustrations with the other women in the crowd.

Take a big seat in Houston's Heights

            Houston gets a bad rap. Like L.A., it’s charged with having no culture, no soul, just a sprawling urban mass of concrete and strip shopping centers. Look deeper and you’ll find quaint neighborhoods, funky weird attractions and a few fabulous eateries, which is what we brake for.

            The Heights is one of those places. Located north of I-10 just outside downtown Houston and a few feet higher than sea level, the neighborhood was created by self-made millionaire Oscar Martin Carter at the turn off the 20th century. Carter saw an opportunity to build a Utopia, with an emphasis on education, progressive planning and entrepreneurship — not to mention a healthy community free of yellow fever scares. Today, that legacy continues with fun places to shop, great restaurants (breakfast at The Down House is divine) and wonderful architecture.

            One of the best places to see the Heights is to travel up Heights Boulevard, a large esplanade with lovely homes on either side and a “Scenic Right of Way” median from White Oak Bayou to 20th Street that sports a walking-jogging path and some weird-looking sculptures. Called “True North, Sculpture on the Boulevard,” this collection of outdoor art produced by Deep South artists includes a half-buried church (yes, we said church), giant lawn chairs and something resembling a silver paper airplane.

            The project was the brainchild of Gus Kopriva, owner of Redbud Gallery on 11th Street, and made possible through Houston Arts Alliance and City of Houston grants, along with private donations. You can read more about the art up close and personal, but we’re borrowing some information here from The Heights Pages, a neighborhood free publication, among other sources.

            Let’s start with the church by artists Dan Havel and Dean Ruck, who “repurpose architectural structures and remnants of no perceived market value into works of art” until the name of Havel Ruck Projects. The church, known as “Wildlife Sanctuary,” contains pieces from an old neighborhood church with small areas where bird seed lures little ones in.  

            Artist Paul Kittelson loves taking art to a higher level (his silver trees at the Houston Hobby Airport are exquisite!) and does so with “Lawn Chairs,” a bit too high to sit on, even for Texas. Kittelson also has pieces in The Museum of Fine Arts Houston, The Menil Collection and The New Museum, New York.

            Ed Wilson hails from Arcadia, Louisiana, (who let him in?) and has created “Folded Plane,” a giant stainless steel paper airplane that has found its resting place in the median.

            And there’s more, from a giant northward-looking dog titled “Pointing North”  by Carter Ernst to a green building supported by what looks like massive oars in “From the Hood to the Heights.” For more photos, visit TwistedHeights.com.

            The sculptures will remain through November 2014, but they are also for sale. If you can pony up between $5,000 and $28,000, these pieces of outdoor Houston can rest in your front yard.

            And if that’s not enough outdoor art, right now the Discovery Green park downtown is featuring a series of angelic bronze sculptures by Mexican artist Jorge Marín titled “Wings of the City.” These angelic figures with idealized male forms are meant to “spark dialogue around themes of desire, will and determination,” according to the web site. One of the sculptures is a pair of enormous bronze wings with steps in front to allow visitors to pose for selfies. Share your photos on our Weird South Facebook page and other social media, hashtag #wingsofthecity.
             The exhibition runs through Feb. 8, 2015.

Celebrate earth’s rotation in Key West’s Mallory Square

Photo by Bob Krist/Florida Keys News Bureau

             My mom’s favorite time of day is sunset. When we lived in South Florida we would carry our cocktails out on the dock and watch the sky turn brilliant shades of auburn, orange and magenta.

            But we got an earful if we called it a sunset.

            Tom, my physics loving stepfather who had degrees in electrical engineering, used to chide us for such language, insisting the earth was tilting away from the sun and the sun wasn’t moving — or setting — at all.

            He was right, of course, but we still call it sunset. And yet, as I write this blog about Key West’s daily sunset celebration, I can’t help wanting to call it an earth tilting party. Because Tom’s favorite place in the whole world was the Florida Keys, and he left us recently and we imagine him still fishing right off the coast of the southernmost U.S. city.

            In Key West, that eclectic island at the bottom of a long chain of islands known as the Florida Keys, the Atlantic Ocean exists on one side and the Gulf of Mexico graces the other. Key West exists in its own time zone, so to speak, where no one needs an excuse to have a party or a chance to raise a drink in homage. For instance, when the sun appears to be descending into the Gulf of Mexico, it’s time for a celebration.

            Every day at sunset (or earth tilting time) folks gather at Key West’s Mallory Square on the west side of the island and watch what looks like the sun sinking into the water. While the “sun sets” people play music and perform other theatrics (check out the photo of Busker Will Soto juggling on a tightrope) until the last rays of sunlight are visible.

            As the light disappears from the sky, everyone applauds, because the earth’s tilting is indeed a great performance.
            And I’m sure Tom’s out there watching.