The woman behind the wheel
About Lady Lilac
Historian. Innkeeper. Storyteller. Campervan Adventurer.
Hello. I'm Lady Lilac.
That's not the name on my driver's license, but it's the name that stuck.
It started as a joke one spring at the Lilac Inn, my friend Betsy called me Lady Lilac as we sat on the porch, surrounded by blooming lilacs, a glass of iced tea in my hand and an opinion about nearly everything.
The name fit. I kept it.
I'm a historian by training, a researcher by obsession, and a storyteller by necessity. My family's roots in Louisiana reach back to the earliest colonial history of the region, when French Louisiana stretched far beyond today's state. In my family, history was passed from one generation to the next through stories—carefully remembered because they were meant to be remembered.
My mother taught me something equally important: stories are worth remembering, but they are worth investigating, too.
She took me as a child through Louisiana cemeteries, church archives, historical societies, and dusty rooms filled with old records. Whenever I came home with a fascinating family story, she had one question:
"Show me the proof."
That question has stayed with me ever since.
The Historian
I learned to look for the original thread.
I learned to look for the original thread—the deed, diary, church record, photograph, letter, or other piece of evidence that might reveal what really happened.
That curiosity eventually led me to Waddington, New York, Greystone House, and years of researching the people and stories hidden within the history of the St. Lawrence River and the North Country.
For years, I also ran the Lilac Inn, where I discovered another kind of history: the stories people tell when they feel comfortable enough to share them. I've learned that everyone has a story, and sometimes the most interesting ones are the stories that never make it into the history books.
Going Home
Now, at 65, I'm trading the inn for a campervan.
And I'm going home.
I'm heading back to Louisiana—the place where my curiosity began—to explore all 64 parishes, search for family history, revisit places I remember, discover places I never knew, meet people, collect stories, and follow whatever historical rabbit hole catches my attention along the way.
But this isn't simply a trip back to where I grew up. I'm returning with a different lens. I've lived a lot of life since I was that young Louisiana girl riding around with my mother. I've raised a family, built a career, run an inn, researched history, made mistakes, learned a few things, and accumulated enough years to understand that sometimes the place hasn't changed nearly as much as the person looking at it has.
A Different Lens
Sometimes we have to step away from something before we can really see it.
At this stage of my life, I want to see Louisiana again—not just as the girl who remembers it, but as the woman I've become.
Sometimes time changes the meaning of an old memory. And sometimes returning to a place with a little more wisdom, a little more perspective, and perhaps a little more forgiveness allows us to understand things that were difficult to understand when we were younger.
There may be memories I'll see differently. There may be stories I finally understand. There may even be pieces of the past that I'm ready to make peace with.
I don't know exactly what I'll find. That's part of the adventure.
What I believe about travel
Slow is better.
The interstate will get you there faster. The back road will get you there with a story.
Every place has a history.
Even the ones that look like they don't. Especially those.
Talk to strangers.
Not the dangerous kind. The kind sitting next to you at the diner counter. They know things.
Write it down.
Memory is unreliable. The journal is not optional.
Come along.
I'll be researching. I'll be storytelling. I'll be reconnecting with my roots. I'll be looking at familiar places from unfamiliar angles. I'll be playing some pickleball. And, of course, I'll probably be drinking a fair amount of iced tea.
Lady Lilac is about history, travel, curiosity, and the stories we inherit—and the stories we discover for ourselves. It's also about getting older without becoming less curious.
I'll bring the iced tea. You bring the curiosity. And if we hear a good story along the way, we'll ask the question my mother taught me: "Show me the proof."