My Southern Statement is as follows:
Luisa Kay Reyes was born in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. Roll Tide! Her mother wanted to be sure she was born in the South, so even though she was living in Mexico while she was expecting, she wanted to be sure her children could rightfully claim their Southern heritage and returned to Alabama to give birth. This piece is about an experience she had while living in Texas for two years. And involves the unique hobby of War Between The State re-enacting.
When I decided to volunteer for the Civil War Weekend at the Liendo Plantation in Hempstead, Texas by playing the piano and singing period music, I was faced with the very female yet very real dilemma of what to wear. At one point in my life, I had had plenty of 1860s era attire. As during my early adolescence my family participated in the hobby of War Between The States reenacting. And to say that we were diehards in the living history field would be an understatement. For every weekend we would pack up our 1860s era attire and participate in reenactments ranging from the massively large battlefields of Gettysburg to the smaller more intimate encampments such as the one in Gainesville, Alabama.
I usually portrayed a nurse’s aid and carried water to the soldiers during the battle, while also helping the nurses and doctors in the hospital tents pretend to put leeches on the ailing soldiers to help them be cured, mid-nineteenth century style. My young brother would usually dress up as a drummer boy and was actually sought after for his ability to keep a steady rhythm, with my mother entering the hobby portraying a glamorous Southern Belle and then switching to the more realistic portrayal of a widow in mourning.
Thank You
When I decided to volunteer for the Civil War Weekend at the Liendo Plantation in Hempstead, Texas by playing the piano and singing period music, I was faced with the very female yet very real dilemma of what to wear. At one point in my life, I had had plenty of 1860s era attire. As during my early adolescence my family participated in the hobby of War Between The States reenacting. And to say that we were diehards in the living history field would be an understatement. For every weekend we would pack up our 1860s era attire and participate in reenactments ranging from the massively large battlefields of Gettysburg to the smaller more intimate encampments such as the one in Gainesville, Alabama.
I usually portrayed a nurse’s aid and carried water to the soldiers during the battle, while also helping the nurses and doctors in the hospital tents pretend to put leeches on the ailing soldiers to help them be cured, mid-nineteenth century style.
My young brother would usually dress up as a drummer boy and was actually sought after for his ability to keep a steady rhythm, with my mother entering the hobby portraying a glamorous Southern Belle and then switching to the more realistic portrayal of a widow in mourning.
Over time, we quickly learned that what we were told when we first entered the historical hobby was indeed true. Most people stay in the hobby about five years, which was about how long we remained active with our historical impersonations. And come every weekend, our skin would speak to us and even itch as a reminder to change the eras we were living in. It may have just been an illusion from Friday through Sunday that we were living in the times of Generals Robert E. Lee and Custer, but the sensation to change one’s T-shirt and blue jeans for long sleeved blouses and floor-length camp skirts and woolen uniforms, was a novelty we all experienced.
“Your illusions are a part of you like your bones and flesh and memory” and the sensation that we experienced was not merely an illusion, but a very physical one that every reenactor we spoke to shared in common.
Since I could no longer wear the same peach colored camp skirt I wore as an early adolescent, I struggled to find something that would be fitting for performing music in the setting of a lovely plantation home. Consequently, I turned my attentions towards my Christmas Caroling dress. With the Charles Dickens era attire being similar to the War Between The States attire, I figured if I simply didn’t wear the red cape and muff it wouldn’t just spell out Christmas and fit in with this occasion. With the arrival of the Civil War Weekend, I gathered my music and my mother and I climbed into my car to make the drive from Austin, Texas to Hempstead. Combining the past with modernity, I drove the entire way while wearing my dark green and red mid-nineteenth century dress and made sure I didn’t get lost by checking the GPS on my iPhone continually. I wasn’t really quite sure why I was so determined to perform at Liendo, for we hadn’t done War Between The States reenacting in several years.
However since we were new to Texas, I had a deep longing to do something familiar and this was what presented itself.
It was quite a muddy and rainy weekend, so I tried to prevent my dress from dragging in the mud as much as I could while we made our trek from where we parked the car to the front entrance of the historical mansion. Immediately upon reaching the front lawn of the home, our breaths were taken away. The rays of the sun peeping through the clouds of rain shone perfectly through the foliage of the trees and the manicured landscape was picturesque and serene. A few of the 1860s era sutlers were set up around the edges of the lawn and the different military units were practicing their drills facing the front part of the columned mansion. In what was likely a true representation of the time period, the Confederate units looked bedraggled and had some very young looking boys portraying soldiers alongside some older fellows dressed in their grey and butternut uniforms. While the Yankee units were serious and conveyed a uniform force with their perfectly matching dark blue coats and lighter blue breeches.
I entered the beautifully kept up plantation home and proceeded to find my spot for the day at the 1850s Steinway and Sons rosewood box grand piano. The owners of the home had had it tuned for the occasion and it felt delightful as my fingers reached down on the keys. I warmed up a little bit with some of the War Between The States era piano solos and then proceeded to sing Stephen Foster melodies and some Irish airs that were known during the Civil War era. The piano faced away from the door to the music room, so I didn’t actually see the people touring the home as they came in. Fortunately, I was in very good voice and it carried throughout the entire antebellum home.
I sang and played for several hours with the piano stool getting harder and harder as the day wound down. It was delightful to be singing and then see parents come in with their little children and look so happy when their little ones were awed by the music. Several times people would come in and be shocked to find a real person there. “We thought it was a recording, it was so beautiful” they’d tell me. Which I admit, was flattering to hear. A few Europeans who toured the home even commented that it had been a long time since they’d “seen a girl at the piano” and some retired music teachers were even impressed by my knowledge of the early American music repertoire. As I kept up my playing and singing, transitioning from Stephen Foster’s “Beautiful Dreamer” to the haunting “We’re Tenting On The Old Campground”, I found myself looking out of the window on the side and feeling completely transported to a more genteel era. I found myself puzzled that something so beautiful could be so intertwined with the sordidness of slavery.
Was it all an illusion? I couldn’t tell. However, I continued my playing into the late afternoon and with the winding down of outdoor activities, the house seem to grow still. While I was singing my last few pieces during this quietness I heard the footsteps of a man step into the music room. I turned briefly to see who it might be and standing there in the entrance way was a fully uniformed Yankee general impersonator. Complete with knee high boots and what looked like a sword and saber by his side, he was bearded and looked very grave.
As he looked at me, his eyes welled up with tears. I felt at a loss for words, so I focused on my task of playing the piano and singing the War Between The States ballads. When I looked again, the Yankee general’s face had turned bright pinkish red and I could see that he was fighting the tears that were rolling down his cheek. “Why would a Yankee general be so moved?” I found myself wondering with my Alabama upbringing in me even being tempted make a reference to the Yankees and their pyromaniac military tactics. However, with each tear that rolled down his face, I realized he was feeling the same transition into a genteel and more elegant era that I had experienced earlier. The same confluence of the bewilderment of what was the reality of that time period combined with the illusions of gentility, sophistication, and elegance that we associate with that bygone culture. When my piece reached its conclusion, I glanced one more in his direction to see if he was still there and not an illusion.
And as I did so, he bowed and said “Thank you.”
