Category Archives: William Charles Summers

Anniversary: This Blog One Year Old

Well folks, this blog is one year old on August 18, 2010 .  That is in itself some kind of achievement. However, it also possible to see some progress compared to the cold start of a year ago.  I am not sure where exactly I am going to do this year but I have had the chance to get some things done this year.  To see the conveniently provided WordPress starting mark for this blog you may go to this link.


I have come closest to ordinary journalism in covering the BP Transocean rig explosion and the BP-Macondo Oil Leak as ongoing stories. Though I did so in my own way of optimizing how a  blog of this personal nature might best cover a story. Of course there was advocacy in this coverage as well.

I also had a bit  of regular journalistic coverage in dealing with the Healthcare Reform Bill, NASA’s moon missions searching for water and the death of some children recently. In addition to that I have done some obituaries in the style of my own blog. These have been occasioned by the death of Bobby Charles Guidry, William Charles Summers, Revis Sirmon and Ardley Hebert since this blog began. There has also been a retrospective obituary on my grandmother Beverlee Hollier Gremillion who died two months before this blog began.

I have also set up over fifty permanent pages. These pages deal with my life and themes that interest me. It is also true that many of the posts are truly personal in nature and deal with the mundane events of my life.

Quite a few categories get left out even if I mention space and Christianity and history in this sentence. I have various features and pages to help readers sort out what else is going on in this blog. However, the great risk and commitment of the blog is that here I advocate for royalist political change in America and draw upon Acadian royalist traditions as the principal source for this change.

Well, whoever you are I hope you read and return to read again…


This is a certain kind of blog post of which there will be relatively few. It is about connecting specific recent events in my own life and internet activity to the larger patterns of society and the world. I do similar things but not this subset of specific things. I may drop down to some tiny little number very soon but as of a few minutes before writing this line I have 823 Facebook friends.  There are a truly thousands of people I know and sometimes think about who are not on that list. There are many among the two or three hundred people I would most like to have contact with through Facebook and other means who are not on my Facebook list. In general my relationships as carried out by way of Facebook’s services are not very complete an are relatively unsatisfying. In addition they make one aware that sustaining real relationships (especially if one has the disadvantage of being me)  is really rather difficult and uncertain. I enjoy the fact that in some way academic, political, religious, space-oriented, paramilitary, missionary, media and other spheres of activities and groups of associates are joined fo me in representative samples in one convenient place.  

But the point of bringing up the Facebook list is really how much I appreciate and enjoy it. I enjoy and appreciate the way i can get news from relatives, friends and acquaintances. I enjoy having direct and even sometimes only indirect contact with people from my sojourns in Mexico, Colombia, New Zealand, the Philippines, Tonga and the many foci of my activities in the United States. I enjoy having these contacts gathered together in one convenient medium.

I recently served as lector and pallbearer for an uncle only nine years my senior.  It was sad to say goodbye to Will. It was meaningful and even pleasant to reconnect with hundreds of people ( a good number well-known to me) who came to pay their respects.  Those days meant a great deal and I am still glad to have shared that time with them sending off one of those who had a real impact on my life.  This was a time of reconnection that meant a good bit to me.

I could write about so many people and probably could name them whom I have reconnected with in one of the two venues. Guys I went to school with and now can keep track of a bit better and cousins who had almost slipped off my radar screen but are now back in view deserve to be mentioned if  one goes by their importance in my life.  A few of these people  are “flat-out famous” as a friend of mine used to say. Perhaps I exclude their names partly to protect them from unwanted attention and partly to protect myself from their displeasure. Not any specific fear but just a habit of caution.

Beyond these two specific venues for reconnection I have also recently been involved in a couple of rather brief correspondences which had the effect of reconnecting me to my past as well. However, I feel reticent again to go into specific details about who these people were too.

That leaves me with one specific name to mention. I mention her because we are not friends I have therefore nothing to lose and she is so famous that my little blog is not likely to cause her any real harm or inconvenience no matter what which would not have come first from many other sources. 

Amy Grant is just a tiny bit older than I am and I have been listening to her music about as long as she has had a record deal. I used to own My Father’s Eyes, Age to Age, Straight Ahead, Unguarded and several other albums in what was never a really large record collection. She is the most successful artist in the history of the genre called Contemporary Christian Music.  She has won several Grammy Awards and a plethora of Dove Awards. She has been part of my life and I have played tracks of her albums at prayer services, lectures and retreats. But it has been a long time since I have played her stuff for anyone else. It has even been a long time since I owned any copy of her stuff.

I belonged to  (and still do belong to) a college household with a Hebrew name and have often celebrated Christian direct borrowings from the Sabbath Meal and the Pseder Supper. She made her mark with many songs but one of the early big hits was a song with a Hebrew lead line. I combined doing ministry and religious communications with involvement in secular media work. While she was a successful phenomenon it is still true that I could often see her working though decisions and difficulties that were the same as mine in that same process. Some challenges were identical, some very close and others just  resonant but it was a real bond.

I also went to her concerts a couple of times and I felt I could invite a variety of friends who would not  form a group elsewhere. Although the actual groups were small and kind of unsuccessful the potential seemed to be their. With my own sisters and some other young girls I could use her as a role model for a real young woman struggling to survive and grow in faith and be herself. Amy Grant was part of a soundtrack that included Michael Doucet, Bruce Springsteen, Rush, the Carpenters, John Denver, Willie Nelson, George Straight, U2, Rafe Vaughn Williams, Ray Charles, Fats Domino and many other artists when I was young as well as lots of live worship music. However, Amy Grant’s music has more special stories than almost all of the others from the large pop culture world.

I have recently downloaded some of her music and interviews and it makes me remember watching her career progress. She has now been married to Vince Gill for years and I remember when that was topic of conversation as an upcoming event. She has kept working and I have seen some of her stuff on tv and  now can see that she is still working.   I still find the vibe associated with her fascinating.

I want to put in a few links about reconnecting from her own work.

1.Here is  a mature piece of spiritual work than reconnects with her whole past I think: Better than a Hallelujah

2. Stay for a  While…  is about reconnecting

3. Thy Word  Amy also reconnects with an old friend and the industry she made rock

A Return to Perceived Eccentric Meanderings

I spent a large number of posts discussing the BP Oil leak and its consequences. That included a couple saying that the leak streak was going to end. I then have spent three posts discussing the passing, life and memory of my uncle Will. That brings  me to now and to today. I am ready to start blogging about other things. The truth is that the other things I blog about or not as likely to be seen as essential, necessary and compelling as the blogging I have been doing on the last two topics. In the eyes of many I am back to blogging about odd things that few think seriously about and which they don’t approve of when they do think about them. That is a particularly negative and jaundiced view that does not represent everyone reading. Some will say I discuss interesting things but from an odd and eccentric perspective. A last and probably much smaller group will say that I have offer a welcome glimpse at a sane perspective in a world gone mad. Some readers will not relate to any of these three  points of view.

I think some writing and writing venues consist of exploratory agitation. Some consist of a kind of journeyman’s daily craft. Yet another kind of writing is a victory lap that sets off a long period of success and accomplishment.  I think this blog is none of those things it is kind of like a defeat lap. The Marathoner who finishes eighth in a field with only three prizes taking a lap around the home stadium holding his country’s flag. One may ask why the hell he does it but also finds it difficult to dispute his right to run it if he wants to run it.

I comment here on many topics from the point of view of someone whose life has been for a long time a relatively unmitigated disaster. Economic, political and social disaster of a rather extreme kind or only mitigated by a few personal victories and satisfactions. Those include mostly relationships with people who are precious to me.

Since I finished my recent online novel, have stopped covering the oil leak closely and have buried my uncle I can return to blogging. I welcome almost all possible readers. The readership is almost certain to remain small compared to the largest readership I have ever written for in my past. It is as much expression as communication I suppose.  So before returning to these political, social and religious notations I am taking this post to discuss the blog itself in terms that seem real today.

Remembering the Near Despair and New Hope in 2 Weary Souls

 I am feeling a bit weary today. I feel a bit weary most days. Honestly, I require a certain infrastructure of life which I do not have here and now to ever live free of weariness. In addition I am aging and at 46 I think there is some sense of having hit the top of the hill of human energy and heading back down again. Yesterday I served as a pallbearer and as a lector at the funeral of my uncle William Charles Summers. For me weariness was part of the whole experience of Will’s last years. I felt some sadness and unease mentioning this because his marriage to his widow Brenda and his relationship with the stepdaughters he cherished — Jennifer and Kayler occurred during these weary years mostly. I do not want to make it seem like the man who worked their farm, hunted alligators, saddle broke horses, coached basketball, drove them on vacations and lived as their husband and father was some old weary guy. But honestly I never saw him since the year 20oo for any length of time when he did not communicate his weariness to me in some way.   That was ten years ago and he only married Brenda eleven years or so ago. But for all he did in those years his energy was a small and frail thing compared to the vast fountains of energy I knew in his youth. Will was almost 55 when he died and I am almost 46 now and I can relate to his sense of weariness.   That weariness inspires me to write this blog post.

Will found a new life with Brenda and her children. he had a working farm and was a friend of the husband Brenda had just buried before he took a different interest over coming years in the widow he was helping. But in a quiet way he was near despair. He already had several physical ailments and an active life had left him burdened with varied old injuries. His religious journey and relationships with women including one named Jackie and another named Lisa and a few others I choose not to name at all had all come to a place that had left him for short of satisfied. He had helped his sister who was raising a child alone to help rear her daughter in different ways for several years.  That had gone the way such sibling volunteer fathering often goes in our society. He had kept close bonds with sister and niece but new walls and borders had grown up between them as the years passed.

Will had sailed some rough seas and backed away from a lifelong love affair with sailboats. The hard-drinking, sharpshooting, world-traveling, mysterious side of Will that existed on the fringes (at best) of the legal world in several countries and could help play music in a bar of questionable reputation or move packages of obscure origin or help women get around whose movements some might want to limit could be a dangerous and angry man. He had mellowed. Maybe more than I have mellowed at a similar age now that he had reached then. Will and I always had things in common and also were very different. We also had lots of things in common. Partly, we found some grace in people we cared about to temper other aspects of our personalities.

There is a cycle in all lives but perhaps in ours more than most. I will no longer be able to look over a few miles away to see my uncle’s struggle between despair and hope and compare it to my own.  I will not have the chance to compare notes on the spiritual struggles we shared in common. I hope, yes I feel some hope that he both rests in peace and is well-remembered.

To see Will and not violate copyright laws:

William Charles Summers Dies: An Acrostic Verse

Will, I am stringing rhyming lines together to spell your name on the left side.

I feel a loss I just cannot pretend is gone and yet I have not shed a tear yet.

Let’s just say I will miss the crawfish boils and the days I matched your stride.

Loping across that farm and disagreeing about things most folks would not “get”.

I am thinking of that old guitar, the harmonica and the banjo too.

All the way back to a military school and Sousaphone you played with pride.

Music stitched through lands and colors was part of much you used to do.


Could it be I miss the Bible sharing that we had? I an 8-year-old lapsed Catholic,

Hearing your Jehovah’s Witness testimony to God as real for you,

And next I set Catholic tones to your hippie search in topics  exegetic.

Rather later, you and I and John read texts in a farmhouse too.

Latest of all, talking about your Roman Catholic ending road.

Every phase was marked by that Bible’s mental load.

Some same Bible problems we both too well knew.


So, I am making you a pious memory now Will.

Until, I remember all you knew about Marijuana,

Meaningful quarrels over laws that outlive you still.

Much agreed on: prostitution and pot in Louisiana

Each favoring regulation but angry words air did fill.

Remember wild child you surfed when we went to Malibu?

Summer before you ran to a Shenandoah hill. 


Do I mention Taurus and Cajun Blue in a line for you?

It seems seeing sailing sets  tests my simple poem can’t do.

Each day from now on I will know what we did not get.

Suddenly, the passing is clearer in a kind of regret.

William Charles Summers Death Announcement

“My uncle William Charles Summers has died. Survived by his mother, 3 brothers, 2 sisters and my generation as well as by his wife Brenda his 2 stepdaughters and their husbands and children. Will was a musician, farmer, surfer, sailor, skipper, Bible reader, hunter, fisherman, horseman, outlaw and coach. His journey began and ended in the Catholic faith with deep spiritual searching elsewhere. May he rest in peace.” Such are the character limits on the status line in Facebook. However, shorter is possibly better here. I hope to do a longer post of both eulogy and complete obituary.

Will was the youngest of my father’s brothers. One of his sisters was also older and only one sister was younger. Will died the day they got the oil flow stopped in the gulf disaster for the first time since it started. I know that was something he cared about. Life was complicated for Will and Will could complicate it for others. He was a tall dark man with blue eyes and a whole lot of fight in him almost all his life. I will write some more about him later. I hope his passing is marked well in the meanwhile. I believe that Vincent’s Funeral Home in Abbeville, Louisiana will be handling the arrangements.