Slidell Magazine - May 2022

THE OFFICIAL MAGAZINE OF SLIDELL

WE SAY KEEP IT FRESH KEEP IT POSITIVE

Vol. 139 May 2022

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May 28 at 9 p.m.

Saturday, May 14, 2022

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General Admission $15

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Congratulations Matt on your EIGHTH cover for Slidell Magazine!

Actually, there are a few more, but Matt won’t let us credit him with the graphic art covers he’s done for us over the years. Since his first cover in October 2015, Matt has been a part of the Slidell Magazine family and a dear friend, volunteering his creative talents and ideas whenever asked.

Portrait paintings are just one of the many art forms Matt enjoys. His portraits of Rockin’ Dopsie Jr., Morgus the Magnificent, Drew Brees, and Dr. John were some of our most popular covers. We love his use of hyper-bold colors to create an almost-surreal feel to his paintings. “The Patriot” was created for East St. Tammany Habitat for Humanity as their 2022 Louisiana Veteran’s Festival poster. When concepting what he would paint, Matt remembered that our World War II veterans, “The Greatest Generation”, are becoming fewer and fewer in numbers. He hoped to capture them, as they are now, for all of us to honor and appreciate.

Last year, Matt fulfilled his dream of painting a mural in his hometown of Slidell when he put the finishing touches on the vibrant jazz/bayou scene on Carey Street in Olde Towne. You can view more of his artwork on Facebook at Litchliter Art and he is available for commissions. You can reach Matt at: mlitchliter@gmail.com.

I’m fortunate that I have the opportunity to meet so many different people through my job and my charitable endeavors. Slidell is brimming with interesting personalities; and meeting new folks is as easy as showing up and opening up.

The May edition of Slidell Magazine introduces you to literally hundreds of people that I’ve encountered in the past few months.

The Habitat Rosie program was the biggest meet and greet for me, and you’ll see over 200 of these wonderful women in the following pages. Maybe you have a Rosie neighbor or co-worker? Maybe your child’s teacher is a Rosie? The next time you see them, be sure to congratulate them and thank them for doing such an incredible job making our community and world a better place to live.

Of all the great gals in this month’s edition, the one that impacted me the most is the one with whom I spent the least amount of time...

Arts Evening is not only my favorite event, it is the single biggest night of the year for my business. It is where I’ve met the majority of my cover artists. What would Slidell Magazine look like without Matt Litchliter, Adam Sambola, M.H. Reed, Keith Dellsperger...and the list goes on. I was introduced to all of these artists (and now friends) during Arts Evening over the years.

Krista Gregory Administrative Assistant Krista@slidellmag.com

This past March, Arts Evening took a backseat for the first time because I was in the middle of the 5-week Habitat Rosie build. I rushed from the jobsite to Olde Towne. I was late arriving and had to leave early because of another Rosie build in the morning.

I dashed through every display I could and hurried every visit with friends. Entering the Auditorium, I slowed my pace just enough to meet two new (to me) artists, both of whom had work that would look amazing on my covers. One of these artists was Oksana from Ukraine. I loved her art, quickly snapped a few photos, and promised her I would be in touch. I thought, wow, I bet she has an interesting story. I wonder if she has family still in Ukraine? My heart hurt for her, just thinking about it.

Little did I know that my writer, Charlotte Collins, was minutes behind me, looking for the Ukrainian artist she had heard about, hoping to hear her story. What an incredible story it is. As you turn the page, remember that Oksana and her family are just a few of the millions of people in Ukraine and across the world that are suffering because of Putin’s senseless, violent war. Please keep them all in your prayers. At the end of Charlotte’s story, you’ll read about how you can help.

Note to my readers: This month’s article is about a Ukraine native artist. While not graphic like the news we watch daily, it does include very frank conversations and the harsh realities of life in Ukraine, as it was unfolding while I was writing (March, 2022). Names and locations have been changed or omitted to protect the innocent lives of independent minded souls in Ukraine. It all began with art, as is often the case with my adventures. I was strolling Olde Towne during Arts Evening, when a group of friends suggested I go see the art by an amazing Ukrainian artist. Like many of you, I have been watching the news, wishing for some way to help on a personal level, no matter how small.

I hoped to see if this artist’s work would be a good fit for the summer art show of my non-profit, Olde Towne Arts Commission (OTAC). Then, I saw her piercing blue eyes from across the room. Scanning for her name I found it, Oksana. The written artist’s statement confirmed that she was indeed from Ukraine.

I perused her paintings with exquisite still lives and apples that, through her artistry, were transformed into glowing jewels of nature. The landscapes depicted local scenes that drew the viewer into moments of peace and tranquility. I pointed out my favorites. Then I broached the subject of her family, asking how they were doing. Somehow, we felt comfortable sharing the unspeakable. Her face grew earnest as she hurried to show me her communications and photos with her family and friends that were still in Ukraine. The range of things her family and friends were fiercely supporting included knitting wool socks, making camouflage cloths, and cooking meals for the Ukrainian soldiers and those who were patrolling. She and her small group were also helping to feed and provide necessities and medicine for their elders, orphans, women and children; even sending money for doctors saving lives in darkened basements and hospitals. Oksana was selling her paintings that night, and at every opportunity she could find, to send money to continue their efforts

amidst the wave of bombings. My first reaction was one of helplessness. Next, I immediately recognized that Oksana was a personal conduit through which I could contribute.

We exchanged contact information and I vowed on the spot to help in some way, not knowing exactly how. I also

“Don’t be sad, don’t be angry, if life deceives you! Submit to your grief - your time for joy will come, believe me.”

~ Alexander Pushkin

A biography by Charlotte Collins Oksana

A recent snapshot of Oksana’s nephews taking shelter from the bombings in the basement of their Kiev home.

knew that you would be as engrossed as I by her story. She agreed to an interview, and we set a meeting for the very next day. I left with my mind searching for ways to make a difference in her family’s lives.

The next morning, we met at her fishing camp, and the sunlight infused us with hope. I had a few things resolved. My non-profit art board would host an art auction, showcasing Oksana and other artists on May 15, with the proceeds going directyly to Oksana’s parents, brother, cousins, neighbors, and friends back home. They and others like them are making heroic efforts between bombings and giving all they have to keeping those left in Ukraine alive. My family had chipped in to bolster the money she was sending this week, so we were initially uplifted. But I knew the need extended far beyond what our two families could do.

She served us hot tea, then it was Oksana’s time to tell her story. (I must remind you that we will not use names or specific locations, as the future of Ukraine remains uncertain, and she needs to protect her endangered family.)

Born just outside of Odessa, her town is right on the Black Sea. This sea port offered good jobs, fresh seafood, and all types of products that were readily available from incoming ships. The moist air and rich soil were ideal for growing produce that was sold at the

street markets. Oksana described, “It was very beautiful, especially in spring, because there were fields of flowers everywhere in my town before the war. I can remember all the street markets filled with tulips and daffodils in spring, and roses in summer. It was a very, very colorful seaside town, and had a very international atmosphere.”

Her cadence had a wonderful lilt that mesmerized me as she spoke.

She described the wonderful childhood that she and her brother had, in spite of the fact that they lived under communism. Both parents were expected to work, and children were in public nurseries all day, beginning only one month after their birth! We are privileged in the U.S. to be able to choose what is best for our family.

I was still making sense of the last revelation when she explained that there was one secret her family kept hidden. “We were raised Orthodox, which means we were Christians. Religion was strictly prohibited in the Soviet Union. Of course, Communism meant that attending worship services in a secret church was very strictly punished. If anybody found out at my school or my parents’ work, it would have been a huge problem for all of us. But otherwise, I had a happy childhood and, like any child, I felt basically safe.”

In the USSR, you had a choice to finish eight years of upper school classes and then go to professional school, or finish 10 years of high school classes and go to a university. Oksana and her

brother chose the latter. She recalled, “My parents worked very hard all their lives. My brother was five years older than me, and he would take me to kindergarten and look after me while my parents were working. He was very smart and he encouraged me to continue to university level. My parents were also very smart and well educated, so I followed.”

She explained that people in her town now speak Russian and Ukrainian, but her family mainly spoke Ukrainian at home. During Soviet times, Russian was the enforced state language, so they learned both. She added, “Now, everybody speaks whatever language they want. There is no primary language today in my town. But back then, if you wanted to go to university, you had to know Russian. I remember having the Russian language lesson every day, and a foreign language which included English and Ukrainian twice a week.” We both laughed at Ukrainian being lumped with English and French. She added quickly, “We also had a lot of other choices in school, and I remember counting like 16 different subjects. We could choose from art, dance, theatre, music, astronomy, sports, almost anything. The education was excellent there, and students could sign up for whatever they wanted. And it was free! I was very interested in ballet.” She smiled, recalling her youth in Ukraine. Because her parents worked six days a week, and she was in school six days a week, Oksana always looked forward to Sundays. She teared up as she described, “We had a ritual procedure on our day off. My family would watch our favorite music shows and fairytale programs. Then my mom would start to make vareniks, like dumplings. We would all sit together and help her make them into folded half circle shapes. The dumpling part was just flour and water. Inside, it could be filled with potato, mushrooms, onions, berries, cheese and how do you call it? Cabbage kraut, salted cabbage?” Sauerkraut is the term we know, and I questioned if they added meat. She assured me that they

The colorful flowers that, before the war, landscaped the streets throughout Oksana’s hometown.

Oksana’s beautiful seaside hometown on the Black Sea in Ukraine

made those too, but then the delicacy would be called pelmens, and it would be more rounded. These were her favorite foods from Ukraine, and her eyes danced as she recalled them.

I learned that the babushkas (older women of Ukraine) sold in the streets whatever they had grown, and this was the freshest, cheapest, and tastiest produce. There was also a little piece of land next to the town where anyone could claim a patch and grow their own produce. Oksana also showed me some of the traditional Ukrainian clothing, with intricate flowers embroidered across the edges.

When Oksana was about ten years old, she was secretly baptized to be protected by God before her family traveled to Siberia. They were moving for health reasons, in search of a more arid climate. “My parents were young and excited for the change. They had friends working in Siberia who said the pay was two or three times higher.” She beamed, “We all loved the adventure, hiking in the forest and picking berries and mushrooms. I went camping with youth groups, similar to your Girl Scouts. We stayed about six years and then I finished school and needed to go to university. I had a choice to go anywhere in the country, but I wanted to come back nearer to my hometown of Odessa.” Oksana had hoped to major in dance, but her mother persuaded her to be practical, and she settled on finance.

Her parents stayed in Siberia until the Soviet Union split on December 25, 1991, when Oksana was nineteen. They had about a week to decide which citizenship they would choose. Oksana described the quandary they were in suddenly, “Some said if you choose Russia, you’d have more job opportunities. But we are Ukrainian and had been homesick. Russia was fine for awhile, but we never really planned to stay there forever. It was just an adventure. Plus, I was already in Ukraine for university studies, as was my brother and his family. So my parents chose Ukraine and only had a week to pack their things.”

She grew more solemn and resolved as she stated emphatically, “We all are very attached to Ukraine. You know, it doesn’t matter how far you go or how long you go away. My kids and I go there every summer. My kids love it, absolutely love it! They are so worried now. My sons have both committed to helping Ukraine rebuild when the war is over. My oldest son said, ‘You know mom, every hammer counts.’ I’m very proud of them!”

I looked around the room and Oksana’s colorful artwork caught my eye once again. I learned that, like most artists, her passion for art started in her youth. She loves the Russian poet Pushkin and her blue eyes lit up as she remembered, “I love his poetry! My mother has one of my first art pieces, of Pushkin’s wife, in pencil. My father looked at it and said, ‘You have to be an artist.’”

Since the outbreak of the war, Oksana’s mother has collected all the important keepsakes - her drawings, photographs, poetry, letters - and put them in a suitcase, ready to bring wherever they may have to go. With pleading eyes, Oksana recounted, “I tried to persuade my parents to leave, but they don’t feel they are able to leave home and evacuate due to their age and health.” Shaking her head in a moment of silence, she added quietly, “I really do get it. They can’t even maneuver down to the basement, because they are elderly. My father is now completely blind, so he’s very dependent on mom.”

Just as we were talking about her parents, the phone rang, and it was a Viber call from her mother back in Ukraine. Though I could not understand the language, it was clear that Oksana had explained who I was and what we were doing. I waved at her image on the screen, and she smiled broadly, waving energetically back. She related her upbringing and Oksana translated for me. The story she told was of her birth in a trench during World War II. After three days, she was carried out by her mother, who was in search of food, water, and warmth. As the mother and baby arose, two German soldiers were waiting. One aimed his gun as if to kill them on the spot. Luckily, the other soldier pushed the barrel aside. This soldier saved Oksana’s mother, who is now 80 years old, and grandmother, who lived to be 93.

Our phone conversation was halted abruptly as the screen went dark, but I could hear “booms” in the background. Oksana related that her mother covers the computer with a blanket while the Russians are shelling to prevent the glass from shattering. This happened several times, and finally Mom said she had to go. The shelling was getting so close she could no longer hear us, and she needed to cut off the lights. With great sorrow, Oksana translated their parting words. No longer do they say goodnight, as it does not fit the circumstances. Instead, they now say “until tomorrow”, assuring each other that tomorrow will be a new day, hopefully one with new hope. Oksana calls her parents every day, not just to calm herself, but to calm them as well.

Needing to take a break, we walked outside, and watched her husband fileting the gigantic redfish he just caught. Two large pelicans were bobbing in the water next to him, watching his movements with anticipation.

When we returned inside, Oksana told me about meeting her husband. She had studied for three years at her university before she met him. In addition to attending school, she worked with her mom. As fate would have it, her husband’s company rented warehouse space on site. The two companies decided to set up free language lessons to help the Ukraines speak English, and vice versa. Oksana claimed it was love at first sight for her.

“Oh, definitely yes. I liked him a lot! He was young, cute, funny, and very nice.” They finally had a chance to talk casually at the company Christmas party. The handsome young man told her that he had seen her around for months, and was very interested in a chance to talk to her. He had been told that Oksana’s mom was very strict, and not to approach her. Laughing, she exclaimed, “But he asked for my phone number anyway!”

This began a personal language class, and Oksana asked for a Russian-toEnglish translation of a book. For his part, the suitor asked the beautiful young lady to show him the famous Ukrainian opera house. Afterward, they went for dinner. He announced that he was leaving soon and had fallen in love with her the first time he saw her. He admitted that he was not rich, but that his salary would increase over

time. He wanted to marry her, have three children together, and travel. He added that she would never have to work, just be his love, his wife, and mother of their children. It sounded like a fairytale, and Oksana was beaming. Taking a deep breathe, she said with her blue eyes sparkling, “I had little time to think about it. He tried to negotiate with his company to stay, but there were no good options. I was 22 and he was 24. It sounded like an adventure, and I could tell he was a really good person.”

And adventures were had! The young newlyweds traveled first to Uzbekistan, then to England where her oldest son was born. The young family then moved to Geneva, Switzerland for five years. From there, they came to America. They had a choice to locate to Houston, Memphis, or New Orleans. Oksana exclaimed, “Of course I picked New Orleans and I love it! The food, the

music, and always so much going on!” That is where their second child was born. The elder son is soon to graduate from college, and the younger will be graduating from high school.

Oksana was first introduced to Slidell when they came to visit friends who own a camp here. Her husband wanted a place for his fishing boat, and she discovered a scenic place to paint. “It’s quiet, peaceful, and we love it here. It’s a beautiful place on the water.”

Now that her sons are older, Oksana has more time to refine her painting skills. When she sells her work, she sends the money to her parents and brother’s family. She has been doing this for years, but now the situation is dire. As she noted about her brother, “With five boys, things are always a bit tight, but even more so now.”

Oksana’s brother lives about six hours away from their parents

in Kiev, the

1.) A large camouflage covering is created in support of the war effort. 2.) The socks being knit and donated to the soldiers by Oksana’s relatives and friends. 3.) Young men, many of them high school children, packing sand bags for protection on the beaches of Ukraine.

1.) Oksana in class at the New Orleans Academy of Fine Arts, perfecting her portrait style. 2.) Oksana excels at plein-air painting (paintings that are completed on location). 3.) Oksana with her paintings at a recent art show.

capital of Ukraine. During daylight hours, he helps provide food, medicine and any necessities he can find for elders in his area, the orphanage and hospital. Apparently, a list of needs is circulated regularly. By dusk, they ask civilians to stay in the house and her brother goes out on patrol. Her brother’s friend just down the street lost his wife when his house and seven other houses were bombed. Now his friend is fighting for his life in the hospital, and her brother is helping remove the rubble from his house and others, and look after his friend as well.

The longer I stayed, the more text messages came in. The list of people Oksana is helping is astounding.

When speaking about the Ukrainian president, Zelinsky, she brightened, “Oh, he’s wonderful. We are very, very proud of him. He did not run away and hide, but is more like a hero. Unfortunately, many cities are completely destroyed, with more compounded every day. It isn’t just the Ukraines dying, but the Russians who live in Ukraine are dying, too. In occupied cities, Russians are trying to starve people so they will be forced to evacuate to Russia. They are blocking humanitarian convoys. But the Ukraines would rather die in their homeland than evacuate. We are strong people, and love our homeland.”

I learned that, as long as a city is not occupied by the Russians, people are

still able to get money to shop for food, however limited it may be. Many still have access to fresh water in these areas. Oksana’s cousin’s wife and friend are cooking to feed the Ukraine troops in their area while their husbands are patrolling and fighting.

I don’t know as much about Ukrainian experiences, but I assume they have their own war stories passed down from generation to generation, and perhaps that has prepared them to stand tall and strong. Oksana’s grandfather came back from the army after a severe injury from a bomb. She also had stories from her father about his bravery during WWII. “When he was five years old, his family was forced to travel by horse and cart to flee with his mother, and three older siblings. He remembered a lot of hunger, going out into the field and finding plants he could chew on, and get some relief from his gnawing hunger. When I was young, he would take me to a field and say, ‘This is edible, try this.’ I guess he was preparing me. His village was burned, except for their house, which was large enough to house the German officers. As the Germans were abandoning the town, they gathered many women and children in a church and set it on fire. Then they made sure to light fire to every house. My great-grandmother was hiding, and she jumped out and somehow managed to quench the fire. Since it was the only house left,

she gathered all the elderly, women, and children there to shelter from the freezing winter cold. Collectively, they started rebuilding and planting crops from seeds. What she did was crazy, but you do what you have to do. There were around 40 of them all together.” Surprisingly, her parents still have a choice to watch Russian news or Ukrainian news; so they’re seeing both sides. Unfortunately, Oksana also has a friend from Russia who is now in the U.S. whose parents in Russia don’t believe her about the war. Literally, her cousin is now operating in a basement of the hospital, and his own brother in Russia believes he is making all this up. The more difficult the times, the less we can comprehend.

I felt as if I had learned so much that afternoon, and I hope you feel the same. In closing, Oksana assured me, “My people are very, very peaceful. They love their country. They don’t want to be part of the communist regime. So I will continue to do what I can do to help them.”

We can help too! Join me on May 15 from 4-6 PM in the parking area of Lowry-Dunham, Case & Vivien Insurance, located at 2001 1st St. in Olde Towne Slidell for a silent art auction featuring Oksana and many area artists. All proceeds will be donated to Oksana’s friends and family to further their mission of helping others in Ukraine.

1-2) Oksana’s aunt makes a traditional Ukrainian dish, vareniks. 3.) Even during war, love will prevail! Oksana’s nephew and his new bride in traditional Ukranian clothing at their recent wedding 4.) Oksana’s large family during one of her annual summer trips back home.

The Storyteller

COMING HOME

Editor’s Note:

Monday, May 30 is Memorial Day. It is a national day of remembrance for our fallen service men and women. Not to be confused with Veterans Day, Memorial Day honors those who have lost their life in the service of our country.

“Coming Home” was originally published in Slidell Magazine in May 2012. It is one of my top five favorites of John’s stories, which is saying a lot. I felt so strongly about the power and beauty of John’s writing in this story, and the tale he tells, that I chose “Coming Home” as the lead-out story in John’s first book, Bogue Chitto Flats

I’ve accompanied John on several trips to Bookhaven and visited their historic train depot, the setting of this story. Many year ago, the depot was converted to a Military Memorial Museum. I don’t think this is a coincidence. Unfortunately, many young men have traveled those tracks in the same manner as you’ll read about in this story.

In memory of Danny Day Entrican 8/12/46 - 5/18/71 MIA

Captain, US Army

South Vietnam, Binh Long province

Inthe early 50’s, Saturday was shopping day in my rural south Mississippi hometown. All the people from out in the county came to town to buy groceries, farm supplies and to socialize with one another on the street corners. It was an all-day happening, and most of these folks only had the opportunity to come once a month.

Their transportation to town

could be almost anything. Some would come on school buses that rounded up those without cars. A very few still came with mules and wagons; but nothing was as odd as the vehicle I saw at the intersection of Jackson Street and Cherokee.

It was a very old truck, and perhaps not just one truck. It was probably assembled from the cab of one manufacturer and the rear part of another. Rust, wear and numerous collisions had left it without doors or fenders, and the seat was a wooden bench. There was no hood, and the back of the truck was crudely constructed of cast-away lumber, known as slabs, from a saw mill. This was the newest part of the vehicle and I assumed it was used to haul small loads of pulp wood. That was the main source of income for those that did not farm, and some folks did both just to make ends meet.

I saw this truck as I was exiting the Haven Theatre. In those days, a favorite past time for kids about my age (seven or eight), was to go to the movies on Saturday. Televisions were not household items then and the silver screen was still the king of cinema. I lived in the country and when I came to town on Saturday, my routine was to see a double feature at the Haven; or maybe one show there, and another at the Dixie, the competing cinema. We called them picture shows then. That was my plan for the rest of the day.

I continued to watch the truck as it crept through the stop sign and past me, heading east in the same direction I was walking. It was occupied by a man and a woman, probably in their early to mid-40’s, but looking much older. He wore carpenter’s bib overalls with no shirt underneath and brogans that were not laced. The tongue of the shoe fell forward to reveal that he wore no socks. The woman had on a loose fitting black dress and no makeup, and her hair was braided and pinned

tightly to her head. She had sort of a Pentecostal look. Her complexion and hair revealed many hours of hard work in the hot sun. There were two teenage boys riding in the back of the truck, dressed much like the man, whom I assumed was their father.

My destination, to kill time until the movie started, was my uncle’s dry cleaning plant, Quality Cleaners, located just on the other side of the railroad tracks. I stopped and watched as the family (or I assumed they were a family) parked in front of Lofton’s department store next to the train depot. The man got out of the truck and approached the station master. After a brief conversation, he went to the track and looked north. I then continued toward Quality Cleaners. My uncle Estus was standing in the entrance door and watched me as I approached. It seemed as if he had been waiting for me.

“Johnny, you’re just in time to see our boys come home,” he said.

I had no idea what he was talking about, but he explained that a couple of our boys from the community had been killed in Korea and their bodies were coming home on the train. All this was foreign to me, as the words “Korea” and “career” were one and the same in my vocabulary. My preference was to go to the Dixie, but somehow I could tell my uncle wanted me to see whatever it was that was going to happen.

Brookhaven, Mississippi is located at the crossroads of US Highway 84 and US 51. Combined with the fact that the Illinois Central main line from Chicago to New Orleans comes through the center of town, it was a popular stop for the train carrying passengers or cargo. It was not uncommon for a crowd to be on hand to meet the passenger train. As we approached, I could tell the crowd was larger than normal.

The area surrounding the depot was paved with dark bricks laid in a herringbone pattern. On this surface was parked a

Jenni M. Triola, DMD

number of freight wagons. They had large iron wheels and a flexible steering tongue, similar to a child’s red wagon but much larger and painted a rusty brown. They were pulled by hand by the railroad attendants.

I noticed that two of the carts had been pulled to a certain spot on the track and parked some distance from the other carts. I also noticed the family’s unusual truck as it entered the paved area north of the depot, but stopped before proceeding to the area where the carts were parked. Finally the train came and the doors were opened by the conductor; but no one disembarked. The crowd was eerily quiet and even the traffic on the street stopped and shut down their engines. Within minutes, four Marines in full dress uniforms stepped off the train.

In almost mechanical precision, the Marines marched to a car in the middle of the train. An attendant opened the door and a flag-draped box was moved to the opening. Another identical box was visible beside the first one. The Marines carefully lifted the first box and placed it on the cargo cart. Then they lifted the other and placed it on the other cart. The wind momentarily lifted the flag from the box and I could read an attached sign that said “DO NOT OPEN”.

A black hearse from Hartman Funeral Home slowly approached and one of the boxes was placed in it and it slowly left the platform. As it drove away, the men in the crowd removed their hats and the women placed their hands across their hearts.

Then the old truck approached. Its engine sputtered and popped and it rattled as it came down the pavement. With just as much care and ceremony, the Marines placed the remaining box on the truck’s bed and the young men who were riding in the back of the truck secured it with hay bailing twine.

As did the hearse, the truck slowly left the platform. The crowd displayed the same respect. In the cab of the truck, I saw tears on the driver’s face, and heard sobs from the lady sitting beside him. The boys in the back just sat with rigid stares.

The truck proceeded south and, just in front of the Dixie Theatre, it backfired and smoke rose from the hoodless engine compartment. The driver tried desperately to restart the engine.

My uncle and I, along with a few other men, walked down the street to see if we could be of some assistance.

I heard the driver say, “Ain’t no use. Slung a rod.” Hartman’s Funeral Home was located less than a half block from the stalled vehicle and without hesitation, my uncle said, “Johnny, come with me.”

The funeral home was a gigantic old frame building that sat by the railroad tracks. As we entered, the wooden floor squeaked in an eerie manner. When we entered the office of the funeral home, a distinguished employee was at his desk. He had (what I have since learned) the composure of an undertaker. Cordial, well-dressed, but somewhat distant.

Greetings were passed and my uncle asked him to volunteer one of his hearses to take the soldier’s body home. The gentlemen agreed and we went to the garage behind the funeral home. Inside was an old hearse that was just a few steps above the condition of the stranded family’s vehicle. Beside it was a brand new hearse that you could tell had never been used. The undertaker instructed one of his employees to take the old vehicle to assist the stranded family. The attendant began to remove months of collected dust from the hood and windshield.

“You’re not going to do that, James,” my uncle interrupted. “Half my family and all of my wife’s family have used this facility for fifty years. You have made enough money on us to send this soldier home in style. Use the new one for the body and take the rest of the family home in that limousine over there,” my uncle said, pointing.

The undertaker looked embarrassed and began to explain that the shiny new hearse had never been used. But then he stopped and smiled and said, “Estus, you’re right. I don’t suppose they will mind if we stop and gas it up.”

By this time, the sheriff had heard about the problem and sent two patrol cars to escort the entourage home. The crowd applauded as the body was transferred from less than basic transportation, to the most elegant vehicle in the mortuary industry.

Later that day, my uncle had the dilapidated truck towed to Kees Motor Company and repaired. I suppose he paid for it but he never said so. He never would, that is just the way he was.

John S. Case May 2022

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Tourist & Convention Commission

11,800 tourism jobs supported

for St. Tammany Parish community members in 2019

Tourism Builds Community on the Louisiana Northshore

Our visitors are tourists as well as our visiting family and friends, and they love our amazing community as much as we do, making St. Tammany Parish the 4th largest tourist destination in Louisiana. In 2019, we had 2.63 million visitors! It’s as if every man, woman, and child in the city of Chicago came to St. Tammany Parish in 2019 and spent $317.49 each.

Photo: Laura Grier

“Your Estate Matters”

By Ronda M. Gabb, NP, JD, RFC

Legal-ease

Roots...

As an estate planning attorney, it should be no surprise that this is one of my favorite quotes.

I think the vast majority of my readers would also agree. Louisiana’s “intestacy” laws (if there is no Last Will) agree too. Under our law, “roots” and “representation” are one and the same and under common law it’s referred to as “per stirpes” (which is latin for “by roots” or “by branch”).

Now for the big question – since the above is what most people want, why don’t we see that reflected in our beneficiary-driven assets too? If I had to guess, I would say we see a proper “per stirpes” designation on about 10% of our clients’ beneficiary forms. If you are able to view a copy of your most recent “change of beneficiary” form from your 401k, IRA, life insurance, and/or annuity and you don’t clearly see a “per stirpes” box/designation (or receive some kind of other written confirmation of per stirpes), then read on…

So what does a proper “per stirpes” designation actually do? Let me give you an example. We have Mary, a widow, and Mary has a pretty big IRA (her husband Bill died and left her all of his too). Mary named her two children, John and Susan, equally, as 50% primary beneficiaries each

of her IRA, and that pretty little “per stirpes” box next to the children’s names was NOT checked (nor was any other indication of “per stirpes” listed). Unfortunately, Mary’s son, John, predeceased her, leaving two sons, Rowan and Martin. Imagine Susan’s surprise (and especially John’s sons) to be notified by the IRA administrator that Susan was now going to inherit 100% of Mary’s IRA because she was now the sole “surviving primary beneficiary”. Luckily, Rowan and Martin still received their father’s share of their grandmother’s non-beneficiarydriven assets (the “succession” assets, like real estate, cars, cash, and non-IRA brokerage accounts) because Mary died without a Will (intestate) and via Louisiana’s representation (“roots”) laws they stepped up into their father’s shoes. However, even if Mary had a Last Will, it would be highly likely that the Will included some type of “per stirpes” language.

What bothers me the most is when the “change of beneficiary” forms clearly have a “per stirpes” box and the clients’ financial advisor(s) fills out the forms for them yet never asks or explains to the client what that choice means, or minimally, suggest they seek the advice of their estate planning attorney. However, in the advisors’ defense, there are lots of forms that do not “clearly” offer a “per stirpes” box to be checked, so it is best that your estate planning attorney do that for you. It is rare that a change of beneficiary form, with “per stirpes” added properly, will not

See other articles and issues of interest!

be accepted by the company/institution. If it isn’t, and it's assets you can move, then take a guess what I recommend? Yep, there are just too many other institutions/ companies out there that will actually let you leave your money to whom YOU want!

So now you know, if you have beneficiarydriven assets that you would want to go to the lineal issue of a deceased beneficiary (“per stirpes” will NEVER go to a spouse) INSTEAD of to the surviving beneficiaries, work with your advisor or estate planning attorney to effectuate this. Be sure to make a copy of the form before you submit it so you have actual PROOF of the “per stirpes” designation because you often won’t see it printed on your statements, even after it’s updated.

For most of our clients, the standard beneficiary designation is the spouse as 100% PRIMARY beneficiary (with NO per stirpes designation) and the children, per stirpes, as the equal CONTINGENT beneficiaries.

And let’s end with a little LAW-niappe: for those of you with 3 children, you should write in “EQUAL” in the amount box, not 34%-33%-33% (don’t believe the “whole percents” only, read the fine print), or let your estate planning attorney do it. I literally see siblings hate each other over one of them getting an extra 1 cent, can you imagine if it was an extra 1 PERcent of a huge IRA or life insurance policy? And now we know why Johann Wolfgang von Goethe preferred writing and poetry to practicing law!

Ronda M. Gabb is a Board Certified Estate Planning and Administration Specialist certified by the Louisiana Board of Legal Specialization. She is a member of the American Academy of Estate Planning Attorneys, National Academy of Elder Law Attorneys and the Governor’s Elder Law Task Force. Ronda grew up in New Orleans East and first moved to Slidell in 1988, and now resides in Clipper Estates.

"There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings."

- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

2022 Rosies Women Build

The 2022 Rosie Women Build was the biggest EVER volunteer and fundraising effort in East St. Tammany Habitat for Humanity history thanks to the generosity of hundreds of sponsors and the hard work of the Rosie volunteers.

Habitat is able to keep their construction labor costs to a minimum because of volunteers. Women have always been willing volunteers for Habitat affiliates throughout the world; however, many of them felt underutilized on the Habitat build sites because of their lack of knowledge and skill. Within a male-dominated construction industry, women wanted to do more, they just didn’t know how.

The Habitat for Humanity Women Build Program began in 1991 with two women from North Carolina who wanted to do more to help the charity they believed in. They began by requesting that their local Habitat affiliate block-out one week each year when only women would work on the Habitat jobsite. From there, affiliates across the country adopted the idea and Habitat developed National Women Build Week. The program empowers women by helping them learn the skills needed to not only be a productive Habitat volunteer, but also an independent homeowner. This is especially significant because the majority of Habitat homeowners are single women, many of them single mothers.

Habitat for Humanity’s vision is a world where everyone has a decent place to live. Their mission is to put God’s love into action by bringing people together to build homes, communities and hope.

Decent, stable, affordable housing provides more than just a roof over someone’s head. It provides stability for families and children. It provides a sense of dignity and pride. It offers the opportunity for better health, physical safety and security. Statistically, children raised in a stable home environment have higher educations and better job prospects.

Habitat for Humanity believes that increasing the affordable housing supply across the globe is essential if we are to succeed in the fight against poverty.

Habitat has more than 1,400 local affiliates in the U.S. They have helped 6.8 million people improve their living conditions since their founding in 1976. Habitat helps by building or renovating simple, decent houses in partnership with those in need.

A common misconception is that Habitat homes are free. This is not so. The Habitat families are given a “hand up, not a hand out”. Habitat families are required to have decent credit, steady employment or income, and be willing to partner with Habitat. Homeowners pay a mortgage, along

Story by Kendra Maness, Editor/Publisher

Photos by Paul & Julie Wood

with an escrow for insurance and taxes, just like any other homeowner. The difference is in the Habitat family partnership. Qualifying families are required to complete Financial Fitness courses and work 250 sweat-equity hours on a Habitat home (theirs or another family’s that is being built). In exchange for this, Habitat mortgages the home at a 0% interest rate.

Beacause Habitat is not only the construction company, but also the mortgage lender, there is a tremendous amount of upfront costs for all Habitat affiliates. And, like all non-profits, Habitat is always fundraising in order to help more people. That’s how the Rosie program began!

In 2016, Kentrell Jones, EST Habitat for Humanity’s Executive Director, had been praying for ways to garner more awareness, participation, and sponsorships for Habitat. More specifically, as an independent-minded woman, she hoped to expand the Women Build program. One morning, she awoke from a dream thinking of me, and believed that God had sent my name to her as the answer. True story! (We’re talking about God, I’m not gonna lie!) At that time, Kentrell and I had only met a few times. She asked me to be the spokesperson for Women Build, speak to different civic groups about the program, and maybe get some additional volunteers and funding. I was honored.

Now what? Well, the first thing I needed was a headshot to present with my bio for all these speaking engagements. How awesome that one of my best friends owned a photography studio!

I called Julie Wood to schedule my “official” spokesperson headshot and explained to her my mission. After brainstorming together some of the ways to help Habitat, Julie suggested that it would be neat for me to pose as “Rosie the Riveter,” the iconic World War II symbol of female empowerment.

A few days later, I arrived at Paul Wood Photography Studio, dressed in that classic blue shirt and red bandana. A bright yellow backdrop was hung, and Paul and Julie Wood snapped a picture that would change Habitat, and our community, forever.

That’s how it all began. Led by God and driven by women of extraordinary passion, the Habitat Rosie Program has welcomed over 300 women since its inception and is celebrating our sixth year.

Our goal for 2022 was to have 220 Rosies building throughout the month of March. This number was significant because the cost of building a Habitat home was about $110,000 (before lumber prices became just ridiculous). The Rosies’ goal was to raise enough money to completely underwrite the cost for a Habitat home. We set up an online donation portal, added new Team Leaders, recruited tons of wonderful new Rosies, and WE DID IT!!!

A program began to take shape. I asked 5 female community leaders to donate $500 to Habitat. Then, they recruited 9 women each and asked them to donate $500. These teams of 10 would volunteer for one build day each for the week of Women Build. Each woman would take a picture posing as Rosie the Riveter. These original 50 “Rosies” would get tons of work done and raise $25,000. YAY! Once the pictures were posted on Facebook, the idea caught on like wildfire. Soon, women were asking how they could be a Rosie too. Kentrell’s dream was becoming a reality!

The original Rosie team, led by Slidell’s former First Lady, Glenda Drennan, was a hoot! These fun loving and philanthropic ladies immediately began planning an additional fundraising party. I designed the invitations, referring to their team as the “Rowdy Rosies.”

When other Team Leaders saw this, they wanted to name their teams too!

Every year, the Rosie Program not only expands, but it also evolves to reflect the scores of different talents and personalities of the ladies. This year, the Rosies worked on two different Habitat homes and built four playhouses to be donated to charity. The work was varied enough to allow for any women, of any age and skill, to participate. Rosie Build 2022 also welcomed our first all-African American team, the aptly named Revolutionary Rosies. Also this year, the Rosies offered their volunteer labor for our first-ever disaster clean-up when we traveled to Arabi, LA to help a Rosie sister recover from the devastating EF3 tornado that took her home.

The goal of the Rosie Program was to benefit our beloved charity, Habitat for Humanity, and the good work they are doing. But what has grown from the Rosies stretches far beyond that. Our sisterhood is strong, as you will see on the following pages. We are dynamic and fun, we work hard, and we have an indomitable determination to make our community and our world a better place to live. Girl Power!

WE CAN BUILD IT!

Remarkable Rosies

Riveting Rosies

LUNCH SPONSOR:

The

Revolutionary Rosies

DAY 2 - ARABI, LA

MARCH 25, 2022

The pictures on this page are from the second build day for Jess Steelman’s super-team (21 members) of Rebellious Rosies. One week earlier, the first half of Jess’s team was on the Habitat jobsite, installing vinyl siding and painting interior woodwork. On Tuesday March 22, one of those team members, Faye Rainey, was caught in the nightmare EF3 tornado that struck her home in Arabi, LA. Faye, her boyfriend, and her 2 dogs survived by sheltering in the interior bathroom and attached laundry room. They were the ONLY ROOMS LEFT IN THE HOME. The second half of Jess’s team all agreed to spend their build day in Arabi, helping Faye and her neighbors begin the process of clearing debris and salvaging what they could.

The team met at the Habitat house build site for happy pictures and fellowship before heading to what can only be described as utter, complete devastation. We reminded the Rosies that, although the circumstances that led to this build day were not happy, the fact that our Rosie sister and so many others survived this catastrophe IS A MIRACLE. And, for that, we celebrate. We also know that smiles are contagious and the families of the Arabi neighborhood needed Rosie help and happiness.

Arriving in Arabi, the scene was overwhelming. (Television news footage has a way of helping you remain distant and unaffected.) Faye led us through what was left of her home, then we split into teams - half to help Faye retrieve her belongings, half to help the neighbors next door and a few doors down.

The pictures here could never fully tell the story of our experience that day. What they do, however, is show us that God’s grace is upon us and acting through us to change lives.

Left: Kendra with Team Leader Jess Steelman and Team Member Faye Rainey on the first build day, March 18. We had no idea what would happen just 4 days later. Right: March 25, Jess leads her second team in prayer before heading to Arabi, LA.

Jess addresses her team before work begins on what was left of Faye’s house (in the background).

An eerie site - the entire neighborhood looked like a winter scene with “snow” insulation debris from the destroyed homes.

The only room that remained intact, the bathroom where Faye took shelter

With help from a college baseball team, a wall from Faye’s home was removed from her neighbor’s driveway, clearing a path for a dump truck.

Faye’s new car, less than a month old, was also completely destroyed.

Regal Rosies

BUILD DATE: March 18, 2022

TEAM LEADER: Tia Friel

LUNCH SPONSOR:

Rip-Roaring Rosies

PLAYHOUSE

BUILD DATE: March 26 - 27, 2022

TEAM LEADER: Peggy Cromer

SPONSORS:

sponsored by: Adore Digital Marketing Bruce & Karin Anzalone Oak Harbor Family Dentistry Radiator Shop Slidell Paint and Body Experts of Slidell

Kandace Miller sponsored by: Montessori Academy of Slidell, LLC

Siobhan Campo sponsored by: In memory of Denise Friel

Krista Gregory sponsored by: Slidell Magazine

Julie Kuehn sponsored by: Innovative Turbine Aircraft Solutions Kuehn Services LLC

sponsored by: Resource Bank sponsored by: Montessori Academy of Slidell, LLC

SPONSORED BY: Taylor and Willis CPAS and Advisors, LLC

sponsored by: Shelley & Jeff Sonnenberg Touch of Italy Café

Carol Giardina sponsored by: Carol Giardina

Darlene Henderson sponsored by: Meyers Warehouse

Mary Swann sponsored by: Digital Engineering & Imaging

sponsored by: Joli Coupe’ Salon

Lin Jackson sponsored by: Alan & Linda Jackson

Nicole Ramirez sponsored by: Olde Towne Tavern

Niki Cromer sponsored by: Coastal Environmental Services of LA.

Marsha Welborn sponsored by: All South Consulting Engineers

Mary Ann Dutton sponsored by: Family & Friends Mary & Scott Dutton

Gina Reviere sponsored by: Northshore Ace Hardware

Pamela Ricca sponsored by: Pamela Ricca

SPONSORED BY: Principal Engineering, Inc.

SPONSOR: City of Slidell | LUNCH

Debe Levis &

Ritzy Rosies

Rosemary’s Rosies

Rambunctious Rosies

Rotarian Rosies

BUILD DATE: March 15, 2022

TEAM LEADER: Sharron Newton

Refreshment Rosies

This year, the Rosie program expanded even further with the creation of the Refreshment Rosies. Born of an idea from Tanya Witchen and Laurie Jugan, the Refreshment Rosies obtained sponsors for every single lunch, for every single Rosie, on every single build day. No small feat to be sure!

The Refreshment Rosies were soon joined by Chelsea Fleming and Alison Cuevas. This fantastic foursome approached over a dozen local businesses and individuals to ask for their food donations in support of the Habitat mission. The response was overwhelming. Soon, the schedule was overflowing with lunch sponsors! There was even a waiting list!

LUNCH SPONSOR:

By the end of the 5-week Rosie Build, over 300 lunches, snacks and sweets had been donated to support the Habitat Rosie volunteers and staff on the build sites.

The Refreshment Rosies arranged delivery of every meal, provided logos for our signage in order to thank our lunch sponsors, and saved Habitat approximately $3000 in food costs.

ATTA GALS! Thank you!

Brenda Case sponsored by: Lowry-Dunham, Case & Vivien Insurance Agency

SPONSORED BY: Bill and Sharron Newton Rotary Club of Slidell Northshore

Mary Byrd sponsored by: Firemen’s Federal Credit Union

Alison Cuevas sponsored by: Alison Cuevas Rotary Club of Slidell Northshore

Angelea Kronlage sponsored by: David & Angelea Kronlage Rotary Club of Slidell Northshore

Cassie Baker sponsored by: Brian & Cassie Baker Rotary Club of Slidell Northshore

Lisha Bonson sponsored by: Dr. Scott & Lisha Bonson Rotary Club of Slidell Northshore

Suzy Andry sponsored by: Gilbert & Suzy Andry Rotary Club of Slidell Northshore

Gay DiGiovanni sponsored by: Gay DiGiovanni Rotary Club of Slidell Northshore

Nancy Arthur sponsored by: Nancy Arthur

Sean Spoliansky sponsored by: Freddie & Sean Spoliansky Jenni Mitchell Rotary Club of Slidell Northshore

Pam Anderson sponsored by: Joseph & Pam Anderson

Laurie Panzeca sponsored by: Slidell Memorial Hospital Rotary Club of Slidell Northshore

Chelsea Fleming

Tanya Witchen Laurie Jugan

Thank You!Thank You!

To the many, many building volunteers who loaned their time and talents to help the Rosies.

Lunch Sponsors:

Inner Wheel Papa’s Backyard BBQ

Debe Levis NOLA Grill

Patriot Title BC Contractors

Terry Lynn’s Cafe Counter Culture

Northshore Ace Hardware Resource Bank

Lishman’s Cash Saver Jersey Mike’s Subs

Bayou Title Amber Boyd, TWFG

Andy & Sherrie Frisard Chicken Salad Chick

Police Chief Randy Fandal

Endodontic Associates

Bayou Web Design, Graphics – Dawn Rivera

Paul Wood Photography – Paul & Julie Wood

Signage - Expo Signs

Slidell Magazine – Kendra Maness

Rosie Donors & Sponsors

Team Leaders

And every single one of the beautiful Rosies

The 2022 Rosie’s Women Build t-shirt sponsor:

to those who make the Rosie program possible...

by: Mike Rich, CFP® | Pontchartrain Investment Management

What Is Your Money Lifeline?

If you are a long-time reader of this magazine, you might recall that the original version of this article appeared here many years ago. However, I never tire of re-telling it because it reminds me of the importance of the work I do for my clients to protect them and their families. Here’s my story.

For most of his working life, my dad was a self-employed housepainter. He always had a job, and, quite often, he worked seven days a week. I remember seeing him go off to work early many mornings in his white painter’s pants. For several years, he worked on jobs in the Chicago Loop and rode the Illinois Central commuter train from our suburban home. He used to joke that he sat with “the big executives” and carried a brief case just like they did, except he called it his “grip”, the leather satchel in which he stored his brushes, rollers, and other tools.

We didn’t think his job was particularly dangerous, but, when I was about nine years old, my dad was injured on a job. A scaffold he was working on collapsed because it wasn’t anchored properly. My dad fell ten feet to the ground and broke the fourth lumbar vertebra in his back. It was during the summer, and I remember like it was yesterday when someone at the hospital called my mom. My dad ended up in a full upper-body cast, and needed six months of recovery time. My mom didn’t work outside the home, so my dad’s disability could have meant six months of no income for our family.

Except for one thing, and it turned out to be our lifeline. My dad had a disability income insurance policy that he had purchased many years before his accident. It paid $50 dollars a week. That might not sound like much, but this was 1960. Gasoline was 31 cents a gallon, a pound of hamburger was 45 cents, and the monthly note on our house was $54.

My dad’s house painting income had disappeared, so that $50 disability check became our lifeline.

The check came in the mail every Friday. Then my mom, who didn’t drive, would get a ride to the bank from a neighbor or my grandfather and deposit the money in her checking account. The system worked, and our little family – my dad, mom, brother, sister, and I – rode out those six months with the luxury of a regular, albeit small, paycheck. Except, one Friday, the check didn’t come. That hadn’t happened before, so my mom called the insurance company to find out where our check was. “Don’t worry,” the customer service rep said, “we mailed the check on time. You’ll probably get it on Saturday.” I was only nine years old, but old enough to notice the concern between my parents. “The lady said it’ll come on Saturday,” my dad reassured my mom, “we’ll be fine.” But, my dad was wrong. The check didn’t come on Saturday, and even a little kid like me could feel their sense of panic. We didn’t have any

My dad’s disability check was never late again, and we survived that difficult time. He made a full recovery, went back to work, and retired at age 65. Despite never earning more than a housepainter’s wages, he and my mom paid off their home, put three kids through college, and enjoyed a comfortable and dignified retirement. My parents are both gone now, but they gave three kids a good life.

I invest money for my clients. For the most part, that’s how I get paid. However, my most important work happens when we combine an investment portfolio with a comprehensive financial plan, one that is designed to identify the financial lifelines that most people need for themselves and their families. If you don’t know what yours are, then you need my help. Call me today.

Cleaning

995 Robert Blvd. | Slidell, Louisiana

Tulane offers comprehensive neurosurgery care by fellowship trained neurosurgeons. Tulane is internationally recognized for utilizing cutting edge research and state-of-the art technology to improve neurological health and quality of life.

Adventures Between The Pages

A LOCAL AUTHOR BOOK-SIGNING EVENT!

An Afternoon Delight for both young & old! Book Discussions with Slidell Authors & Illustrators!

Saturday, May 14th from 1 - 4 PM at Slidell City Hall for more info contact Denise Gilhousen 985-640-7884 dg49mom@gmail.com

OTHER AUTHORS WILL BE ADDED!

2nd Annual PJP II High School Men’s Club

CraWfisH Cook-oFF

COME SAMPLE A VARIETY OF ALL-YOU-CAN-EAT CRAWFISH FROM AS MANY AS 35 COOKING TEAMS! GAMES & FUN FOR ALL!

Saturday, May 14th Noon - 6 PM @ PJP II High School 1901 Jaguar Dr / Slidell, LA

BUY TICKETS ONLINE @ CrawfishCookoff.GiveSmart.com

OTHER FOODS, COLD BEER & DRINKS AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE. MUSICAL ENTERTAINMENT BY: DJ DARREN | PJP II BAND | EL ZAPPO | 21 FRONT STREET

* NO ICE CHESTS OR OUTSIDE FOOD OR DRINKS ALLOWED * CRAWFISH MUST BE CONSUMED ON-PREMISES

RESERVE A TABLE & CHAIRS FOR 8: $150 (TICKETS NOT INCLUDED) EARLY TICKETS: 13 YRS OLD & OVER ($20) | 6 TO 12 YRS OLD ($5) DAY OF EVENT TICKETS: 13 YRS OLD & OVER ($30) | 6 TO 12 YRS OLD ($15)

John Case author of Bogue Chitto Flats

Judith Taylor author of Ernestine: A Creole Girl

Denise Gilhousen author of Tropical Thirst

Cher Levis author of Bayou Fairies

Emile Henriquez illustrator of many Children’s Books

Suzie Hunt author of Weathering the Storm

The City of Slidell presents

The City of Slidell presents

Sunday, May 22, 2022

Sunday, May 22, 2022

Slidell’s Heritage Park

Slidell’s Heritage Park

Concert starts at 5 pm

Concert starts at 5 pm

Free Admission!

Free Admission!

(985) 646-4375

(985) 646-4375

MySlidell.com

MySlidell.com

Thank you to the City of Slidell’s 2021/2022 Cultural Season Sponsors!

Thank you to the City of Slidell’s 2021/2022 Cultural Season Sponsors!

Renaissance $5,000 Sponsors:

Renaissance $5,000 Sponsors:

Plus + Publications

Plus + Publications

Baroque $2,500 Sponsors: In Memory of Ronnie Kole • Silver Slipper Casino

Baroque $2,500 Sponsors: In Memory of Ronnie Kole • Silver Slipper Casino

Jazz on the Bayou/Ronnie Kole Foundation • Silver Slipper Casino

Jazz on the Bayou/Ronnie Kole Foundation • Silver Slipper Casino

Neoclassical $1,000 Sponsors: Councilman Bill & Laura Borchert • Home Instead

Neoclassical $1,000 Sponsors: Councilman Bill & Laura Borchert • Home Instead

Lori’s Art Depot • Lowry-Dunham, Case & Vivien Insurance • Purple Armadillo Again

Lori’s Art Depot • Lowry-Dunham, Case & Vivien Insurance • Purple Armadillo Again

Impressionism $500 Sponsors: David Carollo, Attorney-at-Law • CiCi’s Pizza

Impressionism $500 Sponsors: David Carollo, Attorney-at-Law • CiCi’s Pizza

Mayor Greg Cromer • State Representative Mary DuBuisson, District 90

Mayor Greg Cromer • State Representative Mary DuBuisson, District 90

Dr. David Hildebrandt - Slidell Family Dentistry • Old School Eats Food Truck

Dr. David Hildebrandt - Slidell Family Dentistry • Old School Eats Food Truck

Pizza Platoon • Pontchartrain Investment Management • Roberta’s Cleaners

Pizza Platoon • Pontchartrain Investment Management • Roberta’s Cleaners

Slidell Historic Antique Association • Tanya Witchen - Engel & Völkers Real Estate

Slidell Historic Antique Association • Tanya Witchen - Engel & Völkers Real Estate

Northshore Community Orchestra

Northshore Community Orchestra

In March of 2022, Wendy achieved Top Agent status again, in all three of the measured categories: Number of Listings, Number of Closings, and Most Production.

Wendy is a recipient of Century 21’s highest award - the President’s Award - in recognition for her outstanding production & customer service.

Wendy has also received her Military Relocation Professional Certification for her dedication in helping our active U.S. service members (and veterans) relocate to new homes when transferred to new military assignments.