Over the past couple of weeks while I have been recuperating from COVID, and whatever it was that followed on its heels, I have returned to work on my book, America Found. This is the book that is based on the stories and experiences from my nearly five years on the road.
I had made great progress on the book for quite some time, but there was always a deep underlying feeling that something was missing.. that it was lacking a certain authenticity; and for anyone who has heard me lecture, or listened to my podcast series, or simply just followed my work, you will know that “authenticity’ is at the core of everything I create.
Because of this I had put the writing on hold for several months. As I returned to it, albeit - quite literally, in a feverish state of mind, I decided to scrap everything that I had written, and begin anew.
Also, several months ago, while I was still actively writing the book, an acquaintance of mine, who just so happens to be a very well published author of novels, gave me some advice. She said: David, find one person to write for.. It can be a fictitious person, or a real person; but choose one, and write for them.
I struggled with this, tried a couple of people, but to no avail. But now I have that person to write for.. A very special person in fact. And because this person is real, they act as both my muse and my critic.
But this post is really not about me writing the book, although one might find this hard to believe at this point. This post is, instead, a post about hope - and more to the point about people who live their lives with a sense of hopefulness, and they also find ways to spread this to others.
This is what I found with the In Search of America Project.. A country filled with hopefulness! Yet most people were, and still are, at a loss to see it. That’s because it is not celebrated in the media, or by politicians.. It is not celebrated in television sitcoms, and most certainly not in television dramas. But rest assured that it does exist.
So this week I want to talk about one of these people. There is an entire chapter in my book devoted to his story, but for this post I will simply introduce him to you. I also use this person in my Home Gatherings, for the exact same reason - because he exemplifies spreading hope.
His name is Mr. Vince and he lived in Livonia, Louisiana. I had been working on this project for several months, on and off, in south Louisiana before I had the privilege of meeting Mr. Vince. Gene Seneca, who was my primary liaison person for the Cajun Culture would tell me story after story of this man that soon became legendary to me.
Many years prior Mr. Vince, and his wife Miss Vivian, owned a nightclub and Italian Restaurant in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. This was during the heyday boom of oil in Houston, when money flowed abundantly. The oil executives would come to Baton Rouge on the weekends to spend their money and unwind: dinner, live music, dancing and so on.
Eventually the boom busted, and the economy slumped. This is when Mr. Vince sold the nightclub and retired to Levonia. But he always had a dream, and this dream was to have his own marinara sauce that would be sold in supermarkets nationwide, along with his meatballs. This dream was not for him, but for his daughter and granddaughter - to leave them a financial legacy after he was gone.
He embarked on this dream by building a small outbuilding beside his house that served as a kitchen for making his sauce and the meatballs: It was known as Gravy and Meatballs; in the Cajun culture marinara is considered red gravy.
For years Mr. Vince made his gravy and meatballs, packaged it in plastic food-grade containers, froze it, then sold it locally. A few times a week Mr. Vince would drive his minivan throughout the rural sections in and around Livonia, delivering his sauce. From time to time police officers would stop by Mr. Vince’s for lunch, which was meatballs and gravy.
If workers were near the house and it grew close to lunchtime, Mr. Vince would yell out to them: “you want some meatballs and gravy?” And these were not meals that he charged for.. They were gifts to give back in the way he knew best how to do - to feed them.
Eventually Mr. Vince’s sauce was commercialized; sold in glass jars just like every other marinara sauce on the market. The label read “Our Cousin Vinny’s Red Gravy Pasta Sauce. Mr. Vince’s dream finally came true! Sadly, about six months after the launch he died. Fortunately the sauce is still on the market, but not with the nationwide supermarket distribution that he had hoped for.
Regardless, the positive impact that Mr. Vince’s Red Gravy, and meatballs made on so many people remains astounding. He had a personality that was larger than life, and a generous heart that was even larger. For me, having known him - and more so having been able to call him a dear friend, has left my life forever changed for the better.
Simple acts of kindness - from the heart.. That’s all it takes… He spread joy, and in return he received joy. An unbroken circle that exists even now several years after his passing.
For my paid subscribers I have added a reading of the entire chapter on Mr. Vince, below as an audio file. This is my way of saying thank you for your added interest, and your unwavering support that helps keep projects like this possible.
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