By james art 
When Julia Hawkins died last month at the age of 108, her many friends mourned the loss of a centenarian from Louisiana who, quite remarkably, became a champion runner at 101.
For me, her death also had a personal dimension. Hawkins, who lived for many years in Baton Rouge, grew up with my father in Ponchatoula. She was the last person alive who knew Dad when he was young.
Born in 1914, Dad was a few years older than Julia. We lost my father in 1978 so I treasure Julia’s memories of him. When I visited Julia in 2021, she briefly recalled her childhood.
“He was such a gentleman,” Julia said of my father, “and so clever.” I smiled when I heard her mention the two qualities that so many others had noted about him.
Dad grew up on a farm and Julia spent her youth helping run a small resort on Ponchatoula Beach on the Tangipahoa River. Both spent their earliest years outside a lot, a habit that shaped them and so many others of their generation who grew up when the country was mostly rural. Dad worked in construction and tended a vegetable garden. Julia became a tireless gardener and naturalist who helped botanical artist Margaret Stones collect specimens for her beautiful paintings of Louisiana plants.
Being a runner and cyclist kept Julia outside as well.
Every time I visited Julia, we quickly found ourselves outdoors. I once stopped by to speak at one of her women’s clubs, but it wasn’t long before the guests poured out the back door, huffing and puffing over what was blooming. Julia’s plot included 60 trees and tons of plants.
On my last visit to her home in 2021, Julia welcomed me inside, then led me by the elbow into the backyard, where she showed me a prized bromeliad. Her ginkgo trees, known for their fall foliage, were soon the talk of the town. Hawkins was then 105 years old and still waiting for another fall.
Much has been said about Julia’s longevity, and rightly so. But what struck me about Julia was not just the quantity of her life, but the quality of it, the way she seemed to enjoy every moment.
A number of things shaped her character, but I find myself coming back to how she felt at home under the sun and sky, which opened Julia up to the wider world and its possibilities. I’m not sure she tried very hard to do that. I guess she and my dad grew up in a time when outdoor living was a common part of the human condition, so they embraced it as a natural way of life.
I’m sorry Julia Hawkins won’t be here to live another fall, but I’m thankful for her long life. I try to honor her these days by going out, taking a deep breath and seeing what there is to see.