Oregon has a bit of a reputation for the winter doldrums as the rain rolls in and on and on and on AND on.  However, here at MaMere’s the atmosphere is cozy and languid and as quiet as you want it to be.  The house is busier this January than she’s ever been and happy to be serving so many trekkers who visit her for so many different reasons.

We have couples who come to work on their relationships.  We have mothers and daughters who want to be just with each other for a day or two of catching up.  We have professors coming to lecture, confer, or interview.  We have writers who inhabit the holy space of the the third floor and leave it used and sacred, musicians who practice and compose.  Sale reps who just “happen” to drive near and are magnetically attracted (although the GPS helps) to stay the night and find a surprising respite.

I am always so proud of those who are intentional about breaking away from the norm, the beautiful routine of their lives, in order to give themselves a  night or two of regeneration here at MaMere’s.  They tell me that they leave healed and therefore head back into a better life than the one they left.  Breaking away seems to be the hard part but once they’re here, they breathe and remember why they come back again and again.

We’re here this winter, pulsing warmth and light, music, food that tastes like sunshine, and good, strong coffee.  You’ll find us through the mist.  You’ll feel as if you’ve come home.

Drum roll please . . . . Tadah!  MaMere’s welcomes Lora Potter as our very own resident Chatelaine!

For those of you not familiar with antiquated language derived from the French, a chatelaine is quite literally translated as the “keeper of the keys.”  It was mostly used in reference to castles and tends to evoke the image of dark hallways, secret doors and a large ring of jangly skeleton keys.  But far from the foreboding Mrs. Danvers or the mysterious Frau Blucher, is our delightful Lora Potter.

Lora hails from Portland and has made her way to Monmouth to keep the inn, as it were.  Those of you visiting will have the good fortune to sit and chat with Lora and she’ll most assuredly offer you a hot cup of tea.  Lora, with her soft voice, amiable demeanor and sparkly sense of humor, makes any stay at MaMere’s doubly enjoyable.  She adds nice, subtle touches to your room and quietly makes sure guests are comfortable and cared for.  We are so lucky to have her!

Whoa! It’s like a heat wave in Oregon! MaMere’s feels more like New Orleans than ever yet she’s surrounded by the beauty and breezes of the NorthWest. Surreal for a Southerner used to melting like a puddle in the heat. I’m loving it!

If you’re in town for the festivities of the Fourth of July, please drop by and say “hey.” MaMere’s is hosting a gathering of friends and family and if you’re reading this, you can consider yourself in either category (although you may want to suspend your decision until you’ve actually seen the makings of both).

This week kicks off events in Monmouth that keep us “cool” all summer long with our Music in the Park on Wednesdays:
July 7 Rock Hounds
July 15 Hot Rod Lincoln
July 22 Guthrie Park
July 29 Joe Stoddard
August 5 Country Jones Band
August 12 Darby O’Gill
August 19 Bill Larimere Trio

Also, CylceOregon will be rolling through town July 17-19. And the indomitable Mel Brown will hold his annual Jazz in the Park concert on August 2.

Think about cooling off here in Monmouth this summer. At MaMere’s you can sleep under the stars or beneath a shower of Mardi Gras beads. While away the hours in the cool of the gazebo. Sample our local wines or sip iced tea like it’s supposed to be. Read a book from our library as you lie in one of the clawfoot tubs, soaking away the heat of the day. Wake up to the smell of breakfast being cooked just for you. Wander down in your robe to a hot cup of strong coffee and the sunshiny smile of Kary, hailed by all our guests as a marvel with the pots.

Take a break, grab a mini-vacation, at least one day this summer to do absolutely what you feel like doing which could be nothing at all. That’s what it’s like here at MaMere’s, the “Little Easy” of the West.

It was my last day in New Orleans before heading to the North Shore of Lake Ponchartrain to say goodbye to my mom and sisters. On my way out of the French Quarter I opened the windows driving slowly and intentionally down the narrow streets, taking in the indescribable smells at each new corner: braised beef, boiled crawfish, fried oysters. A soft, steady breeze pushed wisps of white through the azure sky. And I do mean azure; the sunlight was of the bright and happy sort, not intense and mean like in the summers.

I was wistful as I drove to my cousin Michael’s house near the fairgrounds where he and his neighbors are taking their homes to the full potential with colors and flowers and the smell and sounds of life. Someone digging a garden, someone running a power saw, someone walking beside a serious tricycler to the corner store, yards being mowed to offer parking for the upcoming JazzFest.

Michael is the one who gave me the portrait of MaMere which hangs proudly in the front parlor of the Bed and Breakfast in Oregon that bears her name. A gesture for which I profusely thank him every chance I get. The picture was done in pastel charcoals from an old black and white portrait of a newly wed Berthe Adele Aimont Gouedy. A portrait that I spent hours staring at and coveting as a child. With all of the cousins and kin that MaMere produced, I never thought, never, in a million years that it would one day be mine. Michael gave it to me after his father’s death and his mother’s subsequent lapse into dementia. He said I should have it because, of all our cousins, I look the most like MaMere.

The picture was done by my Aunt Kate, mother to Michael and his older brother Patrick (and MaMere’s youngest daughter). I guess their names are a tip of the hat to the Gouedy (nee O’Gouedy) that comes down through us thanks to MaMere falling for a young Irish salesman during her determined stint as a clerk at Maison Blanche on Canal Street.

Aunt Kate once told me that she had gotten through her hot-flashy stage and beyond by doing charcoal portraits at Jackson Square. She told me she had to get out of the house. She remembered her mother, MaMere, telling her that throughout her own “change” she had felt like a closet full of wire hangers. So, Aunt Kate took a cue and preemptively took her own talents out of the closet and onto St. Ann Street. And for the next forty years, until Hurrican Katrina, you could see her there where she stopped every day at 4:00 for her Happy Hour: two aspirins and a Dixie beer.

At present I am happily “way down yonder in New Orleans, in the land of those dreamy dreams” and boy is it dreamy!  Fluffy little white clouds breeze through the blue sky and smile down on us in the form of temperatures in the low 70’s.  An occassional rain shower “forces” me to my sister’s tin roofed porch where I cross my feet over the rail and languidly rock to the symphony of quarter-sized drops while the humidity offers me a free facial.

The French Quarter is full of smiling faces and savory smells while all over the city the parades are rolling by in increasing numbers.  I visited the Rouquette Mansion on Royal Street, MaMere’s maternal family home, and saw the original beams where her uncles hung wine barrels from the ceilings.  For those of you who have been to MaMere’s in Monmouth, you’ll remember the pictures of Dominique and Adrien Rouquette in the third floor Louisiana Lair.  These two along with their brothers Felix and Terrence (thus Terri :)), when they were home from their schooling in France, wrote poetry, hunted, fished and roamed the bayous and woods of St.Tammany Parish where I’ll be on Sunday unearthing more details and pictures to bring home to Monmouth in dedication to them.