Happy Mother’s Day and remembering the artist’s mother!
George’s mother, Marie Rodrigue, was tough, ‘solid,’ as George used to say, with legs like tree stumps (her description...)...…and the closest she ever came to happiness was in worrying about it. Like most of her generation, the Depression hovered over her decisions, threatening to return at any moment.
Marie Rodrigue, a devout Catholic, proud to be ‘French’ as opposed to ‘Cajun,’ was an odd and some would say charming mixture of funny and mean. “She has no filter,” George used to say in response to her biting comments. If it entered her head, it came out of her mouth, and like most families, maybe all families, it was those closest to her that felt the sting.
George, an only child, tried to please her, and perhaps that is the best that can be said of their relationship. She bragged about George to others, yet she existed on another plane from her son, unable to acknowledge his accomplishments where it mattered most, to his face. Fortunately, her wit softened the blow. “She didn’t think she was funny,’ says George, “but she had a dry, cynical humor that cut to the chase real fast.” He loved her deeply and lied daily to his mother, because he wanted her happiness. (Pictured, Marie Rodrigue at a Rodrigue exhibition circa 2004)