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FROM HERE TO NEW ORLEANSBYJohn Farmer(Contact: jonf655603@sbcglobal.net)F O R W A R DThis did not begin as a book. My intent was to document a collection of memories aboutmy childhood and my family, my mother in particular. As the youngest of seven childrenwhose parents were born in the 19th century, I had the perspective of a century's worthof family (and world) history. I always urged my Mom to write about her life which Ithought was fascinating and so, I reasoned, our combined memoirs might be interestingto succeeding generations as hers would have been to me.After getting into it the piece sort of took over and almost without realizing it I shifted intostraight prose and began writing in narrative storybook form. This is also why I havewritten in a manner and for the benefit to non-family readers who may not know who theheck I'm talking about. I can't imagine any non-family member getting 'caught up' inthis, but, you never know. So, I began again and here it is.In addition to a good memory I had the advantage of a five year journal I kept during a
 
period of intense times for me, my family, and the world, as it encompassed theturbulent end of the war and the post-World War II era.Five of my brothers and sisters are between ten and twenty-two years my senior,investing them with much more family history, but this is a memory piece and Ipurposely did not interview them was I wrote this, as it is intensely personal and Iwanted the experiences, and memories, to be uniquely mine.Except for my sister Sue, and to a lesser degree, Maggie, my siblings were all adults asI was growing up so we did not have traditional sibling relationships. That is not to say Ididn't, or don't, love them and they are without exception the salt of the earth. I thankthem for the memories, and also the parade of wonderful people throughout my life I gotto call friends.It has become a literary cliche that writing about oneself is a discovery, but it is no lesstrue. And although I've long known my passions were travel and learning, it wasnevertheless interesting as I discovered how the two blended through mutual pursuit.Throughout the part of my life I was privileged to spend with Leona (my mom), she wasalternately my inspiration, my promoter, motivater, spectator, coach, critic and cheeringsection. I once promised her if she would record events about her childhood and youth Iwould write a book about her. She never got around to it so this, then, is also a memorypiece about her life, plus a narrative portion of my life (and, I admit, an exercise in tryingmy hand at writing a book, hence the efforts to relate actual conversational dialog).While it will not nearly define my mother's life it is nevertheless in her honor anddedicated to her. I hope my family feels I have done her justice. I have tried. JF
 
IN MEMORY OF MY MOTHER,LEONA GREEN FARMERFROM HERE TO NEW ORLEANS John Farmer
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