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I was born in New Orleans, Louisiana, in 1952. New Orleans is like no other city I've ever been to,
and I feel like one of the fortunate ones to have been born there, and been bathed in the warmth of her embrace as I grew
up. My early years were spent in The Marigny neighborhood, a neighborhood which had, much like the French Quarter, a
mixture of races and cultures combined into the perfect gumbo. It was a wonderful world, surrounded by family and friends,
filled with the smells of different kinds of food and the sounds of music, and within walking distance of the French Quarter.
One of my favorite memories of the neighborhood is of the long walks we took with my Grandma Lillian.
Sometimes, on a warm night, she'd ask all of us, "Would you like to walk to the Cafe du Monde with me for some beignets?"
Of course, we always did. We'd walk from Rampart Street, zig-zagging through the side streets to pass our favorite places,
cross Esplanade to the French Market, and walk to the Cafe for beignets and milk, while Grandma had her cafe au lait.
Even though my parents divorced when I was a baby, and my mother had remarried by the time I was two, my father and his
family lived across the street from us, and I had extended family all over the neighborhood. I felt so safe there, so
loved. It was a wonderful entryway into the world.
As our family grew, we moved to larger houses. These were the old houses of New Orleans, cheap, not very well taken
care of, but roomy and fun to live in. Each new neighborhood was a new adventure, with the names Bywater and St.
Roch, and we were seldom bored.
Just before my sixteenth birthday, my parents bought a home in St. Bernard Parish. They wanted more room, a bigger
yard, a feeling of stability that home ownership would give them. I didn't last long. I stayed for the school year,
but the following year, my mother let me move back to Rampart Street to live with my Aunt Audrey, her eldest sister, and her
son, Tad. I missed the mobility I had in the city. You couldn't go anywhere in the suburbs unless your mother
drove you there, and most of the time, she said, "No!". So, back to the city I went, where school was, my friends were,
and we could walk or catch a bus or streetcar to get anywhere we wanted to go.
After a year of college, falling in love, and having my heart broken, I hit the road. Literally. I
borrowed a knapsack from my cousin Eugene, told him I was going camping, and hit the road hitch hiking with a friend, Michael
Hanus. Only my cousins Aleta and Charlene knew the truth, that I was leaving home to "find myself". I ended
up in Portland, Oregon, on my brother Wayne's doorstep. Michael eventually found jobs for us at Timberline Lodge
on Mt. Hood. That was one of the best times in my life...magical and mystical and where I ended up getting the nickname
"Rainbow". That was back in 1972. I'm sure I wasn't the only Rainbow in the world at that time.
In many ways, I truly did find myself on the road. You can run away from those things about you that
you dislike, but when you reach your destination, you're the same person you were before, with the same things inside you;
only the scenery changes. Unless, of course, you keep your eyes and ears and mind open, and learn something along the
way. Which I did.
I eventually came home and settled down, sorta. Well, I got married a few years later to one of my best friends,
Michael Hendrix. No, that didn't settle me, either. We lived like gypsies. I acted crazy, wrote a lot of poetry.
I had a nervous breakdown, destroyed a lot of poetry. I cried out to God and he lifted the cloak of madness from my
mind. We ended up back in Oregon. I found Jesus. Michael didn't like Jesus in the marriage, so he told
me I had to choose between him and Jesus. So I went to Colorado to stay with my best gal pal Susan for awhile.
She knew Jesus before I knew Jesus, so we got along just fine. Then my husband and I reunited and ended up
back home. Then we ended up divorced. This was not a short journey. It took twelve years to get from the
"I do" to the "I won't, not ever again!!".
But then I ended up getting stupid again and got married to Jerry Fox. The best thing about that marriage was the
years that his children lived with us. They were great, and I loved them dearly. Unfortunately for all of us, Jerry
liked beer a little more than he liked family life. That, coupled with three accidents in the course of four years (none
of them his fault), left him hurting, bitter, and mean. I stayed until the kids grew up and moved away, until they came
back with grandchildren and moved away again, and then, while grieving over 9/11 and the departure of my last grandbaby, Mikey,
I decided to take my life back. I gave Jerry an ultimatum. Jerry decided he didn't want to be married any more.
We parted ways. Not before I had lived yet another dozen years of life. I don't give up easily on people.
And then came the next chapter...with someone who was a dear friend to me, someone who, with my sisters and friends,
helped me through my seperation from my second husband. Eddie Karajulles and I became close....so close that one day
I came to visit and forgot to leave. I started drawing and painting, I began to write poetry again, I felt like Rhonda
again, not Mrs. Somebody.
We were in his mobile home on Sunday, August 28, 2005, when my sister Tracy called to say, "Katrina's a Cat 5."
We had planned on riding out the storm at my mother's house on Plaza Drive, but knew that a Cat 5 could take down the whole
region. We decided to leave, with our Shar-Pei Chanel, and our mixed Siamese CoCo. Between packing up and putting
up as much as we could in our house and my mother's house, it was 2:30 p.m. before we got out of Chalmette, in St. Bernard
Parish. It then took us 7 1/2 hours to get from our house to Tracy's vacation home in Picayune, Mississippi, just 50
miles away.
The next morning, we woke up to the day that changed all of our lives forever...but that's for another narrative.
Some days, I know exactly who I am, and I like me a lot. Other days, I look in the mirror and say, "Who
the heck are you, and what are you doing in my mirror?" But ultimately I remember that the reason my soul feels so much younger
than the face in the mirror is because I have never lost the ability to find joy and wonder in the simple things, to
learn somethin new every day, and to remain open to all possibilities. I'll always be Rhonda Lee Richoux. I have
not forgotten the little girl inside me. And some days, she teaches me so much more than I could ever teach her.
LINK TO MY FAMILY GENEALOGY PAGE
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Life doesn't suck, WE do.
Being a whiner since childhood, I've got a lot of nerve saying this, but
I can't stand it when people whine about how unfair life is. Life doesn't suck, WE DO! God created a great
world that WE collectively as a species have been screwing up since the Garden days. WE complain but don't vote, don't voice
our concerns to our elected officials, don't recycle, don't let another car merge, kick trash out of the way instead of picking
it up, don't smile at strangers anymore, and won't tell friends drugs are uncool for fear of being uncool. (And we weep at
the funeral). We blame God for every wrong thing in our lives, and forget who he is when a miracle happens. We are a
generation of WHINERS.
The quality of life
depends on the quality of people in this world.
Don't whine...do something. Do
the right thing instead of the easy thing. Be a
teacher. Be a mentor. Be the kind of friend you'd like to have.
Choose to be changed by love instead of by evil. Let GOD in.
Just do it!
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Favorites
Movie: To Kill A Mockingbird
Books: The Bible, just about any translation; To Kill a Mockingbird; My Utmost For His Highest; The Trail of Tears; Bury
My Heart At Wounded Knee; David Copperfield; On The Road; Steppenwolf; Demian; I could go on and on and on....
Some Favorite Sayings:
Some days you're the dog, somedays you're the hydrant. (Origin unknown)
Wherever you go, there you are.
The journey is the destination. (Origin unknown)
Lose your dreams and you will lose your mind. (The Rolling Stones, "Ruby Tuesday")
Knowledge is a deadly friend when no one sets the rules. The fate of all mankind, I fear,
is in the hands of fools. (Epitaph, King Crimson)
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| My mother, my big brother D.J., and me. May, 1955 |
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| D.J., me, and Michael Hendrix. The 70's, can't ya tell? |
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| Me, in the eighties, I think. |
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| Me, 2006, finding my artistic side again... |
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| ...and just me, plain and simple. 2012 |
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| I also have an activist spark in me. (2007) |
| Me and my Eddie |
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| Kentwood Plantation, 2002 |
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