33rd Edition - April 2013 by Slidell Magazine

THE OFFICIAL MAGAZINE OF SLIDELL Louisiana‛s love affair with our waterways

magazine Vol 33 April 2013

Honey Island Swamp The Magic & Majesty (and Monster!) WE KEEP IT FRESH

SAY KEEP IT POSITIVE

Chief Randy Smith and the Children’s Wish Endowment Program invite you to... F OF POLICE

NDY A R CHIE

SMITH

Golf Tournament

Friday, May 3, 2013 Lunch at 12 Noon, Tournament at 1pm Royal Golf Club 201 Royal Dr., Slidell

$125 per golfer/$500 per 4-person team All food and drink is included Hole-in-one wins a new car from Robert Levis Chevrolet Silent auction to immediately follow the tournament Sponsored By:

K-Y’s, Mike Pike’s Bar-B-Q, Marco’s Pizza & Southside Cafe

For more information: Cliff Lagaist 504-296-9982 or Mike Noto 985-646-4381 Please make checks payable to:

Randy Smith Campaign, PO Box 4114, Slidell, LA 70459

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Kendra with Mayor Freddy Drennan at the 2012 LPO Concert in Heritage Park

Editor’s Letter

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Editor@SlidellMag.com

By Kendra Maness

magazine

It’s a good time to live in Slidell. Every year about this time, the calendar overﬂows with events and festivals, art shows and plays…all the makings of springtime in our beautiful city. I remember when I ﬁrst moved back to Slidell, just over 3 years ago. I had this hair brained idea of starting a local magazine, one that would highlight all of the wonderful people, places, and events of the community where I was born and raised. I had a dream, lots of ambition…and just enough money to pay for a few months’ rent before I could get my new venture started. I was convinced that didn’t have the monetary liberty to partake in any “fun” stuff.

PO Box 4147 • Slidell, LA 70459

www.SlidellMag.com • 985-789-0687

Kendra Maness - Editor/Publisher Editor@SlidellMag.com Alan Lossett - Graphic Design Photography: ImkePhoto.com

My ﬁrst awakening was in March 2010, at a Bayou Jam concert in Heritage Park. When I had moved from Slidell years earlier, there were no free concerts held on the banks of the serene bayou waters of our favorite city park. I was excited…a concert! Better yet, a FREE concert!

Contributing Writers: Kim Bergeron Carol Ruiz EFOP, Nancy Richardson Sli-Ku, Lee Kreil The Storyteller, John Case Jockularity, Corey Hogue Pet Points, Jeff Perret, DVM 20/20, John Maracich, III

I danced. I sang. Then I danced and sang some more. Some unsuspecting senior gentleman was my first dance partner, followed by his wife, then about 5 children I can only assume were their grandkids. Funny thing how it happens…once the first person gets up the gumption to dance in public, regardless of how ridiculous they may look, it starts a trend. Soon, our group had grown to include 30 or so dance partners. The next two hours flew by. I didn’t want the music to end! I was having the time of my life doing exactly what I thought I could never afford to do – have fun and meet people. It’s springtime in Slidell. Go outside. Feel the sunshine, smell the flowers. Introduce yourself to strangers.

Kick off your shoes and dance.

Frankly Slidell, Frank Davis Mike Rich John N. Felsher Rose Marie Sand

www.FrankDavis.com

MikeRich@mypontchartrain.com www.JohnnFelsher.com Rose@RoseMarieSand.com

ef o

Extraordinarily Fascinating “Ordinary” Person of the Month

by Nancy Richardson

f you mention the name Rosemary Clement to almost any woman in Slidell over the age of 30, you’ll hear exclamations like “Ms. Rosemary is just wonderful!” And “Ms. Rosemary had the most amazing effect on me” and “I’ve known Ms. Rosemary my entire life - she taught me how to dance!” Indeed, Rosemary Clement has had a profound effect on thousands of Slidellians, teaching scores of young girls tap dancing, ballet, gymnastics and grace over the course of almost 40 years.

Rosemary Clement April 2013

at the young age of 14. ”I gave my first recital at age 15 and made a lot of money. I used that money to build a studio behind our home,” she remembers. “My businessman father and my classically elegant and very supportive mother helped me to open it.” In her senior year of high school, she met Walter Clement. Graduating just under age 17, she married Walter, and the couple has stayed married and very much in love for over 60 years! “I had my first baby at 18, which was not that unusual at the time,” says Rosemary. She

continues, “We lived in New Orleans until our son, Walter, was about 5.” The new little family came to Slidell and decided they wanted to live in this sleepy little village (which, in the 50’s, Slidell definitely was just that). So husband Walter put in for a transfer with the phone company to move here. They had fallen in love with the town and its people. Having two small boys to raise, Rosemary didn’t think she could continue to teach dance, but when a woman she knew became ill and wanted to sell her studio, Rosemary

Born in New Orleans in 1932, Rosemary lived there until a few years after marrying her high school sweetheart, Walter, when she moved to Slidell to raise her family of 5 children…all of whom have become quite successful in their own right. But we’re getting ahead of our story of one of Slidell’s most fascinating people. Rosemary’s love of dancing began at age 2 when her family physician suggested that Rosemary was “getting a bit chunky” and that her mother might consider enrolling her in dancing classes. This began a lifelong obsession with dance, gymnastics and movement of all kinds for Rosemary. A more elegant and beautiful advocate of dance could not be found! Rosemary is not only a talented dancer, but also provided to her students a model of style, elegance and grace. “I took classes all the time, with my mom making all my costumes,” says Rosemary. Being very talented, she opened her own studio 6

Walter and Rosemary Clement with their children

couldn’t resist. With the help of her in-laws, she bought that studio and continued to teach young girls from 1957 to 1995. Rosemary remembers, “There were only two other teachers in Slidell at the time. I was very successful. I taught everything—tap and ballet, but tap was definitely my favorite.” She recalls, “Gymnastics was just getting going in Slidell and I bought the equipment to include that. It was perfect timing, when Olga Korbut won gold at the 1972 Olympics. All the little girls wanted to be like Olga.” Rosemary’s oldest daughter, Mary, began helping her mother teach gymnastics. “It was difficult to teach both dancing and gymnastics, so we concentrated on gymnastics. Our studio was on Carey Street in Olde Town. It was the little green house on the corner with the gym next door, although it isn’t a gym anymore.” Daughter Mary married a doctor and moved away. Daughter Gwendolyn helped for a while but Rosemary says, “Gwen got the travel bug” and went to work on a cruise ship. Being gone for six months at a time made teaching gymnastics difficult. Rosemary’s eldest daughter, Candace, went on to medical school which kept her quite busy too. With her talented and helpful daughters moving on with their lives, Rosemary began to think of retiring, which she did in 1995.

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Over the course of her 25 years teaching gymnastics, she influenced hundreds of young girls. Her most successful student, Paula Hoda, now teaches gymnastics in Florida, with over 350 students. Post-retirement finds Rosemary still moving around spritely. She lives with her husband in their beautiful, rambling home in full view of Bayou Bonfouca. At age 80, her fun-filled jet ski beckons her and makes her yearn for warmer weather so she can enjoy her other two favorite sports – jet skiing and water skiing, both of which she enjoys with her 13 grandchildren. The comfortable home has a deep back yard with a meandering path leading out to the dock where her favorite toys, her boat and her jet ski, are parked. “I love to water ski with my grandchildren but jet skiing is my favorite water sport! From our dock we can ski all the way out to Lake Pontchartrain,” exudes Ms. Rosemary. She also spends a lot of time on her patio and deck overlooking the peaceful bayou. You might think that her long career working with all those little girls might leave little time for her family, but Rosemary has always made family her priority. Some people consider the Clements to be the First Family in Slidell, with their children and grandchildren continuing in their parent’s successful footsteps. Although son Walter died after Hurricane Katrina, Rosemary and Walter’s four remaining children are enjoying their families and their careers. When asked if she knew how many little girls she has impacted over the 38 years of her teaching career, she laughs and says, “Oh, I have NO idea!” But you probably can’t swing a dead cat without hitting one of her former students! When daughter Gwendolyn was involved in the cruise travel industry, it provided many opportunities for Rosemary and her family to travel all over the world. Sharing family photos that weren’t lost in the flood of Katrina, there are many pictures of Rosemary and her daughters performing the family ritual of having their picture taken while doing hand stands in many of the exotic places around the world to which they’ve had adventures. Places like the Great Wall of China, the pyramids, the Eiffel Tower in Paris, taking a helicopter ride to a glacier in Alaska, by a windmill at a friend’s home in Amsterdam, in Australia, by the Berlin Wall, visiting cave homes in Turkey, at the

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Wailing Wall in Israel, at The Hermitage in St. Petersburg, Russia, as well as many more interesting and exotic places around the globe. She is truly grateful for the awesome travel opportunities she has had, and says, “We’ve met many marvelous people on our travels who have become good friends. Many of our trips have been to visit those friends whom we have met as we traveled.” On a recent trip to the rain forest of Belize, Rosemary’s daughter encouraged her to try zip lining. Because she was in her late 70’s at the time, the instructor wanted to send her on the easy route, but she convinced him that she was in better shape than most people half her age and could handle it. And handle it she did! “That was truly exciting being up in the rainforest canopy!” So what has she been doing since retiring, other than traveling? “Oh, my gosh! So much!” Rosemary gushes. She’s been an active member of the Slidell Women’s Civic Club for many years, and has choreographed and taught dances for numerous Mardi Gras balls. She was the very first Queen of the Krewe of Perseus and, this year, was the Queen of Mona Lisa Moon Pie. “I danced the whole parade—I had a ball!” she exudes. All of her daughters have been Mardi Gras queens and, in 2001, son Bruce was a King, involving the whole family. She has modeled throughout the years but now, she says, “I only model at Christmas time because I’d rather be with my friends and not stuck backstage.” Rosemary is an extrovert and an extremely socially active person, attending festivals, banquets, dinners and charitable functions every chance she gets. She still teaches line dancing to friends and colleagues and she has performed at Saints games. To keep in the incredible shape she’s in, she works out at Cross Gates Athletic Club every morning. At age 70, Rosemary became a candidate for Senior Ms. America. Winning a regional pageant to become the ‘Golden Mermaid’,

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Rosemary does her traditional hand stand at the Great Wall of China

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Rosemary, at 74, skiing her way to the cover of Yada Yada Magazine

Rosemary was chosen to represent Louisiana in Las Vegas at the Senior Ms. America competition. Rosemary recalls, “We all sat and waited in a big room all day long with nothing to do. I was very nervous because I’d never done the interview part of the competition before. By the end of the day, when it was my turn to answer their questions, they (the judges) were tired and didn’t even give me a chance to finish the questions. I blew the interview!” Rosemary muses, “It was ok. The girl who won definitely deserved it.” Still, how many 70 year olds do YOU know who could compete for Senior Ms. America??? Always looking for a way to have fun, Rosemary takes every opportunity to have a new adventure. And, her adventures almost always have a physical challenge – and a sense of humor. Once, she and a group of her friends entered a rope pulling contest. Her team decided to wear evening gowns and long gloves. Obviously, they couldn’t pull in those clothes - but they won for being best dressed! And had a ball doing it! Rosemary Clement is not only beautiful, intelligent, charming and talented, she is also humble. When asked to be our April EFOP, Rosemary argued that she didn’t think she would qualify. “I’m just ordinary—not fascinating.” Yes, an ordinary person who has led, and is STILL leading, a fascinating life! Keep on dancin’, Rosemary, for many more years to come. Slidell is proud to have this extraordinarily fascinating ambassador who continues to teach us all how to live life to the fullest!

From my family to yours,

Thank You for your support Member NRA

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-Alan Zaunbrecher

If you elect me as your next judge, you can rest assured that no one coming into my court will ever infringe on your rights as a US citizen; particularly your right to bear arms.

P. O . B o x 4 9 1 5 > C O V I N G T O N , L O U I S I A N A 7 0 4 3 4 alan@AZforJudge.com > 985.871.8787 Paid for by the Committee to Elect Alan Zaunbrecher

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Chamber Events!

Look for the RED Fleur de Lis For more info: 643-5678 www.estchamber.com

SUN

MON

TUE 2

Last week of Beade Towne! Don’t miss this historic community project! Olde Towne Feed Store 8

Bayou Jam Christian Serpas & Ghost Town Heritage Park 5:30pm

Ribbon Cutting Kids Unlimited Playground Camp Salmen Park 9:30am

Continuing Education Microsoft Word Slidell Library 10am-noon

Secret Gardens of Slidell Tour Tickets: 985-788-3638 1-5pm

Ambassador Meeting Counter Culture Noon 29

Free Business Counseling Chamber Boardroom 9-3pm

Olde Towne Street Fair “Show Boat” Slidell Little Theatre • 2pm

Grand Opening Ribbon Cutting Bayou Title • 3-5pm 30

Pontchartrain Investment Financial Workshop Wealth Mgmt Strategies 6pm

MAY

Jazz Concert Series Christy & The Rascals Pearl River Library 6-7:30pm

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Showcase

Business After Hours Celebrate Cinco de Mayo Silver Slipper Casino 5-7pm

SMH Rooftop Rendezvous SMH Parking Rooftop 8pm 13

Public Policy Committee Chamber Boardroom 8am “Sordid Lives” Cutting Edge Theater • 8pm

“Sordid Lives” Cutting Edge Theater • 8pm “Show Boat” Slidell Little Theatre • 8pm Mixed Media Art Exhibit City of Slidell Gallery Thru June 15

“Sordid Lives” Cutting Edge Theater • 8pm “Show Boat” Slidell Little Theatre • 8pm

Canoe Tours Bayou Cane Boat Launch

“Sordid Lives” Cutting Edge Theater • 8pm Crawﬁsh Cookoff 20 Fritchie Park • 11am-6pm Some Enchanted Evening LPO Concert Heritage Park • 5pm “Sordid Lives” Cutting Edge Theater • 8pm “Show Boat” Slidell Little Theatre • 8pm Olde Towne Street Fair 27 Relay For Life Slidell Slidell Airport • 3pm “Sordid Lives” Cutting Edge Theater • 8pm “Show Boat” Slidell Little Theatre • 8pm 4

Senior Spring Fling John Slidell Gym • 11am-1pm

2013 Business

For More Info:

CHAMBER BUSINESS AND COMMUNITY SHOWCASE Harbor Center 3-7pm

Children’s Wish Luncheon Fashion Show Slidell Auditorium 12noon

Passport to the Arts Home of Ronnie & Sylvia Reine 7-10pm

Education Committee Chamber Boardroom 8:30am

Calliope Puppets Slidell Library 6:30-7:30pm

VOTE FOR JUDGE! 22nd JDC Election

Rotary Golf Tournament Oak Harbor Golf Course

Jazz Concert Series Tuba Skinny Lacombe Library 6-7:30pm

Grand Opening Lacombe Pharmacy • 3-5pm

Business After Hours Airey & Blanchard All American Title eSyncs Ad Agency All Phase Insurance 5-7pm

SAT 6

FRI 5

Storytime Slidell Library All Ages 6:30pm

Chamber Luncheon Leadership Northshore Project Presentations Harbor Center 11:30am - 1pm

Dine & Discover Workshop Who’s your next customer? Chamber Boardroom 11:30am

THU 4

Jazz Concert Series Christy & The Rascals Slidell Library 6-7:30pm

Tech Talk Charter Business Chamber Boardroom 11:30am

Income Tax Deadline

Storytime Slidell Library 2-3yrs,9:30am 3-5yrs, 10:30am

Look Good, Feel Better SMH 11am-1pm 15

Technology Committee Chamber Boardroom 8:30am

WED

Randy Smith Golf Tournament Royal Golf Course

Slidell High Football BBQ Dinner Slidell High Gym 11-2pm

“Show Boat” Slidell Little Theatre • 8pm

Thursday April 25, 2013

3pm – 7pm Northshore Harbor Center Slidell, LA SPONSOR BOOTH: $1,500 Booth Participant: $500

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A P R I L 2 0 1 3

Soaring THE GIRL Born in the forties and raised with the values of the fifties, she was not unlike most fourteen year olds. Lost in a hormonal storm of dwindling desires to run barefooted, climb trees and play with the boys that lived down the road, she now spent more time in front of the mirror. Interests such as pretending to be Sandra Dee now claimed as least part of her time. A daddy’s girl, they spent a lot of time together. That is the blessing a daughter has if there are no brothers in the family. Dad is still her confidant and her mentor. When together, outdoors is where they preferred to be. She liked where she lived. She liked the space and she liked the freedom to explore the nearby woods, fish the stream that flowed through it, roam the pasture in front of the house... and all this without supervision. Her friends in town did not have this luxury or independence. Independence was important to her. But her mother was very much a part of her life. Her mother made sure that she maintained a balance so that she “fit in”. Her mother knew that the girl would one day most likely become urban. She made sure that she at least had the social skills needed to live there. Her mother taught her to change from being just short of a tomboy to a young lady with a pony tail. On more formal occasions, she had taught her that just a little makeup was appropriate, but not much, and the pony tail could be transformed into long hair that cascaded to her shoulders. Both were pleased with the results.

THE BOY Born with a natural air of conﬁdence, he walked to a different drummer. If given his choice, he would rather be alone, deeply involved with a project, a hobby, or in deep thought. He was not a loner however. He had a personality that attracted people. They listened to him, they wanted to cultivate his friendship, and he was welcomed in any circle. Even the adults enjoyed his presence.

At sixteen, he too enjoyed the freedom of a rural environment, but he too could cross over. He was at ease wherever he was and with whomever he was with. Of all the things he had always enjoyed was the springtime and the hillside of a pasture near his home. He watched the birds for hours and imagined what they could see from their vantage point of flight. He wondered if they were frightened by his presence below. Or if, from their lofty point of view, was he no more of a novelty than the trees. He was obsessed with ﬂight - theirs and his.

THE KITE Each one he built was identical, or at least they were now. After many prototypes, he developed the perfect shape and size. Constructed with a frame of lightweight reeds, bound together by string, covered with newspaper and glued with paste made from water and ﬂour, it was the boy’s vicarious sight from above. It would see from above what he could not, but he could imagine. It was the boy’s creation and he painted it with blue tempera paint, and added a simple face with a smile. The face was yellow. It was the same on every kite he made. To the boy, the kite had a personality that he could sense by the way it danced in the sky. He could feel its emotions as transmitted through the string he held in his hand. The kite was an extension of him and he was an extension of the kite.

Always in early April - when the sun was warm and the winds of March were no longer gusty but still breezy and constant; this was the kite and the boy’s favorite time to fly. Usually on a Sunday afternoon after church the two would go to the pasture. Once aloft, seldom was a kite retrieved as the boy’s skill sent it off, far off; so far that there was no practical way to recover it. As each kite vanished, the boy felt as if he had lost a friend. The boy knew the kite would respond to the way it was dressed. He could change its mood and personality by the color and configuration of the tail. The wardrobe was made of old sheets the boy had torn into strips about three inches wide and two feet long. He soaked them in Rite dye. He colored the strips of cloth blue, red, yellow, orange and green. He left some their natural linen white. This was the kite’s clothing. Today he would let it wear solid red. He liked the red tail, as it contrasted to the blue of the kite. The wind was light and steady, so he fashioned the tail as one long segment, no bows of tied together pieces. Both he and the kite felt good. They felt confident. As the boy ran across the field, he transferred life to the kite. The kite leaped, it zigzagged for a moment, and then reached a strata of wind that quickly lifted it and carried it southward. Only he and the kite knew how good they were. Only he and the kite knew how far they could fly. Only he and the kite had learned precisely

that there was a ratio between height and distance. They could achieve either, but they both preferred distance. Distance? Distance allows adventure, things unseen. The kite transmitted to him what it was seeing by the vibration of the string. He could interpret every shimmer and tug. Height was important too. Like the hawk that soars, seeing all and concentrating on little, height has its advantage. That is, concentrating on little...until something noteworthy comes into view. She was sitting in a high fork of a chinaberry tree. She too liked to look down on things. She too dreamed of soaring. It approached from the North, actually from the North, North West. At ﬁrst it did not attract her attention and, if noticed at all, was dismissed as a large bird in the distance.

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Slowly, it drifted closer and she could tell that it was a kite. It was traveling toward her and all she could see was the back side, the unpainted side - the ugly side - and she thought how ugly you are. Even having ﬁrst seen its ugly side, she was drawn to it and watched as it moved almost directly overhead.

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Then it was behind her. She turned and saw the deep blue color. The hue that only tempera can yield. She saw the yellow face with a smile. She smiled.

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She was transﬁxed to the gentle swaying of the kite, much as a cobra is mesmerized by the charmer. Only when the screen door opened did she let her attention drift. It was her dad.

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“Where do you suppose it came from Dad?” “Sweetheart, by the angle of the string and the height of the kite, I would say it came from a long way off.” “How far Dad?” “Maybe a mile, maybe two. Whoever is ﬂying it knows what they are doing. It’s a homemade kite too. The best kind. They did a good job. I used to make kites.”

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Soon the wind shifted slightly and it was no longer in the path of her house and soon it was gone from sight. That night she wrote in her diary. “It came to me. I know it was looking for me and it smiled.” She noted it was the first Sunday in April. The girl never dismissed the sighting of the kite. Like the large birds that drift on the currents, she wondered where it came from and where it went. Spring turned into summer, and summer to fall, and winter preceded the return of the next April. She was now fifteen. At fourteen, a year produces lots of changes in a teenage girl. She was more mature, her thoughts were deeper and more analytical. She had thought often about the kite. She was aware that it was now again the first Sunday in April. She was aware that it had been a year since she had first seen the kite. On this day, the boy dressed the kite with a tail of red and blue swatches fastened together with knots that resembled large Christmas bows. With the right twitch of the string, he could make the kite dance with a tail like that. He lifted it off. He felt good and the kite did too. The wind was puffy, but at times slow, today. The boy had to work to keep the kite in the air. As the distance and the height increased between the two, the kite responded better. It danced in the sky with the vigor that a dog displays when first being let out of its cage. It was a happy kite. She saw it. This time she would pay attention to it as long as it was in her sight. It came closer and just overhead, it stopped. It was home, and

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it danced. It flirted. The boy pulled the string and the top tipped to reveal the smile. It spoke to her as it stayed over her head. After being stationary almost an hour, a strong puff of wind came up. The string snapped and the kite tumbled onward and downward. Her first instinct was to find it. She then realized her real interest was knowing where it came from. She grabbed the fallen string and started following it; first across the gravel road, then through the cleared pasture and on into the woods. After about a half mile, she came to a small creek. She could not or would not cross the creek. The origin of the kite would remain a mystery, at least for now. The April morning had started out rainy and windy. “Too windy, not a good day for a kite,” he thought. By early afternoon, the rain had abated but the wind was still blustery. Flying it next Sunday was out of the question. That was the day for his senior class pictures. He could not miss that.

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He had been doing some planning concerning what he would do after he graduated. He had just last week talked to an army recruiter. He had learned that if he joined and committed for four years, he may be able to fly helicopters. The lure of flying was stronger than his apprehension about the dangers of Viet Nam. This may be his last time to fly his kite for a long time. He decided to take a chance anyway. There is nothing like a lot of colors to lift the spirits of a kite on a nasty day so he made a tail of all the colors. Red, Yellow, Orange, Blue and the tip was adorned with White. Soon it was in the air. She looked for it. On the first Sunday in April for the past two years she had watched it. It had appeared on the same day about the same time. That time was past and there was no kite in sight. Maybe it had just been a coincidence. She started indoors and then it appeared far to the northeast. As she watched, the wind blew it in her direction until it was almost above her. Just like last year, a puff of wind pushed the kite skyward and she could see it become lifeless as the string snapped. As it died, it wobbled its way to the earth - but not too far away. Unlike last year, she would try to find the kite. It could not be far away. Through a small patch of woods she came to a shooting lane, cut by some deer hunter. She looked up and down the shooting lane and in the distance, she could see a tumbled wreck of colors, mostly blue. She retrieved the kite.

REUNION The next day, she decided to take the kite to school. She had a premonition that someone would recognize it and claim it. She was correct. As she walked up the steps in front of the flagpole, he saw her and started immediately in her direction. “Hey, where did you find my kite?” “Behind my house.” “Where is that?” “About a mile and a half east on Beaver Creek Road. Where do you live?” “About two miles south on Dummy Line Road.” “Whoa, it flew a long way didn’t it?” “I usually let out two miles of string. That is why I use thread, number eight, to keep it light.”

He looked like the kite- happy, with a smiling face. She had seen him and knew who he was. The school was not that large. She doubted that he knew her, him being a senior and she being just a sophomore. If he did know her, he did not let on and, after a moment of awkward silence, she said, “Well I guess you would like to have your kite back?”

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“No, not really. I have never retrieved one before. You can keep it. Better still, it is kind of late in the year...but would you like to ﬂy it with me next weekend?”

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“Sure, I will ask my mother but I think it will be ok.” He was like the kite: handsome, kind, self assured. When he lofted the kite, he handed her the string. He stood behind her and guided her hand with his, teaching her to pull on the string to make the kite rise higher and higher. It happened that day. No words were spoken but a commitment was made somewhere in the hearts of the two that stood on the hillside on a warm April day. For the next three months, they were inseparable. His desire to ﬂy loomed large. He made the decision to join the Army and would report for basic training in August. She was heartbroken. Viet Nam held no interest for her. With the wisdom of someone much older, he explained his ambition and that she had to ﬁnish high school. Some college would even be better. He promised her that his feelings for her would not change over the four years, and she believed him. She knew hers would not.

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As if scripted in a story, he did return. Within weeks, they were married and in a few years, an additional smiling face was added. Unfortunately, it only ﬂew for two Aprils. No one is immune from the tragedies of life. Soon however, an additional smiling face was added to the kites they made. Every April, the family of three would spend the day on the same hillside from which he had launched his kites as a boy. This they did for 47 years. One day a phone call came. The one you do not want to get. Maybe a residual of Agent Orange from Viet Nam or maybe just a coincidence, but the prognosis of his illness was terminal.

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It was not easy. He ﬁrst lost weight, and then the pain and suffering began. It worsened. She prayed for healing and the discomfort became more consuming. Finally, she prayed for mercy. It came. On the ﬁrst Sunday of the following April, her son manipulated the string as he lifted the kite high above the trees. There were four smiling faces on the kite and, as the sun went down, the kite disappeared in the distance and fading light. Even though she could not see it, she could feel that it was still there. She knew by the tug on the string, just as she knew he was still there. Soaring, but just out of sight.

For a friend. John Case April 2013

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The day before he left, they made four kites, one for each April he would be gone. On each, they painted two smiling faces. She would ﬂy these faithfully for the next four years on the ﬁrst Sunday in April.

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Frankly Looo-Zee-Annah Crawﬁsh Pie

Louisiana is the number one crawﬁsh producer in the nation, with more than 90% of the domestic crop coming from us.

History of a Mudbug Dating back to the Native Americans and the early European settlers, crawfish have been an inherent part of our Louisiana culture. They’ve always been abundant in our swamps and marshes, so crawfish were a favorite food of early residents just like they are today. Now, crawfish boils and backyard parties are not only a tradition, but also a friendly crawdad-cooking competition for most of us! You can just hear your neighbors saying… “I have the best boiled crawfish in town!” Huh?! Commercial sales of crawfish in Louisiana began in the late 1800’s. At that time, crawfish were harvested from natural waters right here in our own backyards and throughout Southern Louisiana. The first record of a commercial crawfish harvest in the US was in 1880. That year, a harvest of 23,400 pounds was recorded, with a value of $2,140. By 1908, a U.S. Census report

By Frank Davis

We have more than 1,600 crawfish farmers and 111,000 acres of ponds in our state. More than 800 commercial fishermen harvest crawfish from natural wetlands, primarily the Atchafalaya Basin. listed Louisiana’s crawfish production at 88,000 pounds, with a value of $3,600. Man, I’d buy that! Nowadays, the Louisiana crawfish industry includes farming as well as fishing in the wild. Man-made crawfish ponds were started in the 1960’s, using controlled water levels, forage management and water recalculation techniques to produce the delectable little mudbugs we love today. Even though we love ‘em, we don’t have the WHOLE story. Crawfish are kinda like cousins – we spend time with them a few months every year but we don’t really KNOW them. So, here are some really cool facts about our favorite crustaceans:

Combined, the farmers and the fishermen supply 120-150 MILLION pounds EACH YEAR! More than 7,000 people depend directly or indirectly on the crawfish industry for employment. The total economic impact on the Louisiana economy exceeds $300 million annually. So, crawfish are not only delicious, they’re a huge industry in our state! Next time you’re at a crawfish boil, right before you “pinch da tail and suck da head”, give your little crustacean cousin a kiss right on the nose and say thanks! Many thanks to LSUAg Center for this great information!

There are probably more recipes ﬂoating around for crawﬁsh pie than there are politicians campaigning in Baton Rouge! And I don’t think I’ve ever eaten any I didn’t like! But this one, I do have to admit that I may be prejudiced, seems to be head and shoulders ahead of all the others. I mean, this one has body. This one has intensity. This one is gooood.

you get uniform crawﬁsh ﬂavor throughout the pie. (Oh, grind the fat into the tails, too.) Then get out a large skillet, the 12-inch size works best, and melt the butter over medium heat. At this point saute the onions, shallots, celery, bell pepper, garlic, and carrots, and continue to cook them until they turn just tender. Do not overcook the ingredients or they will lose texture in the pie. Just 4 minutes should do nicely.

1 frozen, unbaked double pie shell 2 lbs. crawfish tails with fat 1 stick butter 2 medium white onions, finely chopped 1/4 cup finely chopped shallots 1/2 cup finely chopped celery 1/2 cup finely chopped bell pepper 3 cloves garlic, finely chopped 3 tbsp. shredded carrots 1/4 cup parsley 2 tbsp. paprika 1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper 1/2 tsp. white pepper 1 tsp. salt 2 hard-boiled eggs, chopped 2 tbsp. heavy cream 1 egg yolk, beaten

When the vegetables are wilted, remove the skillet from the fire and begin adding the remaining ingredients as follows, stirring all the while: Put in the parsley, then the paprika, then the two kinds of pepper, then the salt, then the chopped eggs, and then the heavy cream. Between each addition, be sure you thoroughly mix the ingredients together for uniformity. And now the coup de grace: You pour this mix into the bowl containing the whole and ground-up crawfish tails. With a fork, you begin working the seasonings evenly into the crawfish. When it’s mixed just right, you’re ready for your pie crust. Oh, better preheat your oven to 375 degrees, too. Take the crust (you should have a bottom and a top) and begin spooning the filling into it. As you add the mix, take the spoon and pack the filling tightly across the bottom of the pie. Note: You want the filling to be rounded at the top, rather than level with the edge of the crust. When the pie is filled, place the top crust over the filling, crimp the edges with a fork, and make a 1-inch slit in each quarter of the top crust (4 slits in all).

Start by thawing the pie crust until it becomes pliable and easy to work with. Then place it in your refrigerator until you have your ﬁlling prepared. Here’s how that’s done:

Finally, reduce the oven temperature to 350 degrees, liberally brush the top crust with the egg yolk, and bake in the oven for about 40 minutes (or until the crust is golden brown and ﬂakes easily). With a crisp tossed salad and a cold beer, this is one Looo-zee-annah dish you just won’t be able to beat. Incidentally, crawﬁsh pie should be served piping hot.

For the best possible texture in this dish, you should separate the crawﬁsh tails into two portions, leave one portion whole, and run the other portion through the grinder or food processor until the tail meat is ﬁnely chopped. Only by preparing the tails this way will

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Making ₵ents

of your money

Time flies... and so does our money! Learn how to hang on to as much as you can. Our workshop at the end of this month will focus on how to turn the money you have into the money you’ll need – either now, in retirement, or whenever you might need it. We’ll be talking about how we design investment portfolios, manage risk, and turn savings into income. You do not want to miss this one, so call us and reserve your place.

A workshop about investing money is timely these days because it seems that our government just doesn’t get the idea that saving for the future is important. As I sit down to write this article, the National Debt Clock1 in Manhattan’s Times Square shows that our country owes $16,686,700,287,329. That’s about $52,893 for every woman, man, and child in America. Around 30% of that debt is owed to foreign countries. The interest we paid in 2012 alone amounted to

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more than $3.8 trillion. And, not to put too fine a point on it, in the two minutes it took me to type this paragraph, the national debt increased by $1,000,896 – and I’m a pretty fast typist. Time sure flies when you’re spending someone else’s money. Call me cynical, but I don’t think there’s much you or I can do about this situation. Federal spending is out of control, has been for a long time, and is not likely to slow down any time soon. For example, I read recently that the Social Security program owes $8 trillion dollars to baby boomers. Where will Social Security gods get that money? Well, I’ll go out on a limb and make a guess – higher taxes, lower benefits, an inflated dollar. You name it. When you are addicted to spending money, it’s hard to break the habit. My wife worked for a building supply company in Iowa when I was in graduate school. She was in charge of accounts payable. The owner of the company had no clue about running a business, and costs started to outrun revenue. Any sane person would have cut down on spending, but not Mary’s boss. He spent money like a drunken sailor, and ran up bills for stuff the company didn’t need because he wanted to play big shot. Mary and the chief financial officer knew the situation was dire, and they finally took away the owner’s signature authority on the checking account. Sadly, it was too late, because the company was already down the tubes. EVEN THEN, the boss used the company credit card to buy a leather chair, new drapes for his office, and subscriptions to five magazines. Of course, that’s like a grain of sand on the beach of government spending, but you get the picture. Whether you’re spending someone else’s money or your own, it’s hard to stop after you’ve gotten used to it. We might not be able to do much about the national debt and our government’s spending habits, but we can do lots of things to prepare for our own financial futures. Frankly, we don’t have a choice. Given the sad state of

Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, and other programs all of us are counting on, not to mention all of that debt, if we don’t do something for ourselves, we’re likely to end up in deep doo-doo. So, consider these three planning ideas for yourself and your family: 1.) Take full advantage of your employer’s retirement plan. Contribute enough to get the company match, if there is one. If there’s no match, contribute anyway or think about setting up an Individual Retirement Account and contribute to it on a regular basis. Make your contributions to these plans automatic so you don’t have a chance to spend the money. Call us and we’ll help you get started. 2.) Save and invest outside of your employer’s plan. The money that goes into your 401(k), 403(b), or other employer plan is going to be taxed at ordinary income rates when you start spending it. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a source of tax-free money, as well? That’s where an investment strategy outside of your employer’s plan makes sense. Money going into a Roth IRA, for example, has already been taxed, and your withdrawals later may be tax free, which could be a big plus in the future.2 If you’d like to learn more about this powerful technique, call us. 3.) Build a guaranteed income plan. The Employee Benefit Research Institute reported in 20093 that 56% of workers surveyed expect to receive benefits from an employer pension plan. Remarkably, however, only 41% of those folks actually worked for an employer that provided a pension plan, so it’s clear that a lot of people are depending on something that might not be there when they expect it. Don’t fall into that trap. Build your own pension plan to supplement Social Security and to provide income to cover your “must have” expenses in retirement. There are several ways to do this, and we can show you how. In our opinion here at Pontchartrain Investment Management, this is one of THE most effective things you can do for your retirement security, and the key to success is to start early. As I complete this article, the national debt is $16,686,720,315,173 and, by the time you read this magazine, it’ll be a lot higher. If you want to ruin your day and see in real time how deep the hole is getting, go to www.usdebtclock.org. Time sure does fly when government spending has run amok. It goes by pretty fast, too, when we’re talking about planning for your money future. It might be impossible for you to fix any part of our government’s spending problem, but it’s very possible to put a plan in place that will provide financial security for you and your family. Call us to make an appointment to come in and get started on your plan. And, join us for our April workshop and learn that the best time to plan for YOUR future is now.

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GO BEYOND Story & photos by Rose Marie Sand

Which way to turn? Does it really matter when every turn leads to a new adventure?

Behind the wheel of my truck, sometimes the most ordinary drive can turn into an extraordinary adventure. So it was on a routine errand to bring my friend, Gloria, back to Gulfport after a visit last October. As I bid her goodbye she asked, where are you going now? Gloria knew how much I enjoyed the coastal drive, and that I had the rest of the day off. Would I turn right to head back to Slidell, or turn left and visit the Walter Anderson museum in Ocean Springs? Or something else entirely?

This particular Friday was in the week of “Cruising the Coast,” an event that brings over 6,000 antique, classic and hot rod vehicles along the 30 mile stretch beachside highway from Bay St. Louis to Ocean Springs. Although I’d been to the annual event in years past, stopping to gawk at the sleek cars and nostalgic music that emanates from the festival areas, I wasn’t in the mood that day to revisit that experience. I wanted something new, a feeling of ‘playing hooky’ was in the air. Approaching the coast road from Gloria’s

house, I considered the options. Though I love Ocean Springs, I turned right towards the Louisiana line. Not planning to go home, exactly, just not planning. Most of us have been to our neighboring Mississippi Gulf beaches frequently - with the lure of casino buffets and slots, the easy drive to the Gulfport area is a popular day or weekend trip. Isn’t it fantastic that in less than a half hour from Slidell, we can go to Mississippi, Orleans or St. Bernard Parishes, and find great adventures, great food and great

people? We’re kindred spirits who share a resiliency, love of place, fun, music, food, and sense of humor. Thoughts of resilience floated through the air like the salty sea spray along the coast road. Amid the memories of casinos lifted like the sand across the coast road and the strong facades of Gulf Coast mansions reduced to rubble, was also the pride of renewal of the Gulf Coast. Leaves of ancient oaks were lacy brown patterns of rubble in 2005, and memories of my first ride to Gulfport post-Katrina teased along the edges of my thoughts. Eight years after the storm, memories of the devastation have receded, but are never erased. I searched for what is perhaps the most moving symbol of that rebirth – the graceful carvings of eagles and dolphins. And then, I saw one of the carved trees on the neutral ground - a loving reminder of art’s ability to heal the soul. Suddenly to my left, in a parking lot adjacent to a pavilion, I spied small carvings that mimicked those of the trees.

The Marvin Miller sculpture that was created and installed at the Inﬁnity Science Center, in Mississippi, which is designed with fan blades once used in space

Could it be? A turn brought me to the display of Marvin Miller, indeed the artist who’d made t h e G u l f C o a s t ’s damaged trees a personal project of hope.

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I purchased as many of his treasures as my budget would allow from his roadside market, and Marvin told me he was on the coast to refinish some of his work. He also talked about a sculpture that was created and installed at the Infinity Science C e n t e r, n e a r t h e Mississippi Welcome Center. As awed as I was by his talent, he was equally awed by the fact that NASA gave him some fan blades that had ﬂown in space to incorporate into this sculpture. Now this, I knew, was the reason I’d turned right from Gloria’s house. The Infinity Space Center was not yet open that month, so I knew I’d have a follow up visit to Mississippi in my future. At that moment, the crab cakes at Trapani’s were calling. I’m a big fan of crab cakes, and the ones at Trapani’s are world class. The restaurant has always been a favorite destination, both pre and post-K, even when they had to move to a strip mall while rebuilding their restaurant on the Coast in Bay St. Louis. Bay St. Louis strikes me as a place of growth and development these days. Nature and mankind have joined forces to make the area buzz with new life. The ride to Bay St. Louis takes me to the stunning Bay Bridge, an American Transportation Award winning ribbon of grey connecting Hancock and Harrison counties. In 2005, many bridge sections dropped into Bay St. Louis, which empties into the Mississippi Sound. Although touted to be the highest point on the entire Gulf coastline, Bay St. Louis’ devastation was almost the end of the road for the residents. After Katrina, the area received media attention about the fact that rodents had been washed ashore. Shop owners and residents showed their sense of humor and resiliency by starting a “Rat Race” to showcase the

Ace

rebuilding of the old downtown arts district – complete with rat costumes and decorations in the shops!

The 2.1 mile walkway is an art walk, with bronze sculptures symbolizing the spirit of the Coast. Gleaming crabs, dolphins and pelicans adorn the 12 foot lane, perched above waves dotted with the diamond reflection of the sun on the undulating water. The sounds of the antique cars were mixed with the constant hungry whine of the seagulls and the warmth of the sunshine. Once sufficiently satiated at Trapani’s, I set off for retail therapy and a sign that cried “Exploring t h e Wo r l d o f Art.” In its cool showroom, I discovered Marvin Miller’s sculptures again. My credit card groaned as I found many other treasures in Maggie May’s. As I exited, I noticed a sign across the street for the Serious Bread Bakery, “Serving the Gulf Coast since 2003 (seriously).” Who could resist that sign? Sourdough bread, scones, mufﬁns - they take their baking seriously! The short drive back to Slidell was laced with new images mingling with the snapshots of my memory. Sometimes, a journey is more than a journey, and a bridge is more than a bridge.

Yet always, each turn is an adventure.

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But before my lunch and shopping, there was another adventure ahead. Although working up an appetite wasn’t exactly necessary, I decided to park and explore the bridge on foot.

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THE LEGEND OF THE HONEY ISLAND SWAMP MONSTER

by Dana Holyﬁeld - Evans

Growing up along the outskirts of Louisiana’s Honey Island Swamp, and having a weekend fishing camp deep in the heart of it, I assumed most people around these parts had heard about the Honey Island Swamp Monster. But, it wasn’t until I ventured away from the swamp, that I realized many Slidell locals didn’t even realize that the Honey Island Swamp was practically in their back yard, much less that there was an elusive Swamp Monster lurking in it. In 1974, my grandfather, Harlan Ford, was the first outdoors-man to come forth and report his sighting to the local authorities after he found tracks in the mud that he presumed were imprints left by the ominous creature he and hunting buddy, Billy Mills, had come face to face with years before. As a child, I was well informed about my grandfather’s encounter because I heard it from his own mouth on several occasions -- mostly when I asked him about it. My grandfather was a respectable man. He was a Federal Air-Traffic Controller for the FAA. He was also a pilot who flew a twinengine airplane for pleasure. There was an area of the Honey Island Swamp that the compass could not read as he flew over it. He presumed it to be a magnetic field. The compass would spin around and around. So, one day, Harlan Ford and his co-worker and hunting buddy, Billy Mills, planned to go by boat, and then trek in on foot, to see if they could find out what made the compass go haywire. As they passed over that area of swampland in the small plane, they dropped

a bag of flower onto a nearby sandbar so they could find the area again from the river. While exploring, they never discovered what made the compass spin, but they found the area to be prime hunting ground. So, they decided to build a camp out there, and that is where Ford and Mills came face to face with the legendary Honey Island Swamp Monster. Harlan Ford passed away in 1980. Over the years, his encounter with the Honey Island Swamp Monster has been told and retold by many people. As we all know when things are retold so many times, certain details change and get exaggerated - maybe by accident, maybe on purpose. So, while making my documentary film, “The Legend Of The Honey Island Swamp Monster”, we located Billy Mills in Texas, who was with Harlan Ford on that legendary day in 1963. Mr. Mills was willing to talk on camera for the first time. “Harlan and I worked together and we hunted together,” Billy Mills stated during his on-camera interview.“We would drive up to the Lateral Canal and take a boat across and walk through the woods to the camp, which was on the West Pearl, right above Bradley Slough,” Billy continued. “And on one of the occasions, in 1963, we were hauling an outboard motor that we had repaired to put on a boat that we kept in the river out there. We were also bringing some groceries and stuff for the camp. We had parked our boat and went up the levy by the Lateral Canal. We were walking through the woods to the camp on a trail that we had made, and as we

rounded a bend, about twenty yards ahead, we walked upon something that was down on all fours in the bushes doing something. I never thought anything about it at ﬁrst, because there are a lot of wild hogs in the swamp. Then it stood up! It had hair all over its head hanging down. I stopped and Harlan stopped. Just about as quickly as we saw it there staring at us, it disappeared behind the bushes. Both of us woodsmen – hunted all our lives, broke and run to see what it was. But, we couldn’t ﬁnd it. It could have gotten into a tree, but we never thought to look up at that time. This was in the summertime. There was a lot of foliage.” “Then later on, (1974) we were squirrel hunting in the fall. We were by Bradley Slough. We heard something that sounded like something beating on a drum. A hog was squealing for dear life. I thought it had to be something big beating that wild hog like that. We found some tracks. Harlan came back later to the same area where we heard that hog and made plaster of paris casts.” Harlan Ford phoned a friend, Alvin Frierson, a member of the Louisiana Wildlife Commission. Mr. Frierson took a look at the plaster of paris casts and was puzzled about what could have made them. He was familiar with Harlan’s and Billy’s sighting of a strange creature back in 1963. “I never doubted Harlan’s story, because I know he would not try to pull something over on me like that,” Frierson assured. “Harlan is not the only eye-witness.” Frierson admitted. “I have had several reports.”

Ford poured more plaster casts of the various size tracks that he found in different areas within a few miles of each other. The webbed toe imprints appeared to be a cross between a primate and a large alligator, but they knew that was impossible. But, what they did figure was that whatever type of creature that made the tracks was estimated to weigh about 400 pounds, judging from the length of the tracks and impression depth in the mud. That was confirmed by George Stevens, a Louisiana State Naturalist. Maybe this thing was prehistoric like Ford speculated -- something that had been there since the dinosaur days. It has been so well camouflaged in the Honey Island Swamp that it was overlooked by science. If a human can survive in the wilderness without tools or fire, a man-like creature can also. The local media got wind of the tracks and Harlan Ford was interviewed about his encounter. Then he appeared on the popular TV show hosted by Leonard Nimoy, “In Search Of”. After his story was televised, other swamp dwellers came forth with similar sightings of the creature. He knew some people were telling the truth, but he also knew there were a few practical jokers. Ford didn’t let the jokers phase his quest for more knowledge of the mysterious creature. When “In Search Of” was first televised, it became monster mania around the Ford home according to my grandmother, Yvonne Ford. “People called from everywhere wanting to know more.” “Then there were the monster impersonators who made fake monster shoes and stomped through the swamp,” Perry Ford stated. Perry was Harlan’s oldest son, who hunted and fished the swamp and had his own encounter while on a camping trip with his wife. Perry said he remembered when the Game Warden caught a man walking backwards out of the river with a pair of tracks glued to his feet. He also remembered a sign posted at the boat launch that read; “Creature Season Open – Bucks Only.” Perry Ford speculated that some of the hunters who didn’t want their prime hunting grounds invaded by researches were probably those who claimed it was a hoax. Several eye-witnesses refused to be interviewed on-camera because they didn’t want people to think they were crazy.

THE SUPER-8 FILM

While making my documentary film, “The Legend Of The Honey Island Swamp Monster”, my grandmother, Yvonne Ford, said she had something I may find of interest. She handed over a box from a closet. In the box was an assortment of Super-8 film reels. I remembered my grandfather always filming with his Super-8 camera, whether it was family gatherings, or hunting and fishing trips. My grandmother recalled that when Harlan retired, he became more interested in filming wildlife rather than hunting it. Each reel in the box had a label such as: Turkey, Deer, Alligator, and Duck. But, on one of the reels, there was a piece of masking tape that had the words, “Honey Island Monster” written on it. “I don’t know what is on here,” Yvonne claimed. “But you are welcome to use it for your documentary.”

So I dug out his ancient projector and we set it up. Remarkably, the outdated machine still worked after changing the light bulb. I fed the film through the projector and we turned off the lights and used the white wall in the kitchen for the screen. We watched anxiously as it flickered until a picture came up. The film was obviously Ford’s point of view, beginning with a boat ride up river – then a walk through the woods where he got a close up of a large swamp spider glistening in a giant web that seemed large enough to catch small birds. The next segment seemed to be filmed from a tree-blind where Ford was known to stakeout the swamp while hunting. Moments later, right before our stunned eyes, we saw a hairy figure walking upright approximately fifty yards away. We realized in that instance, Harlan Ford collected

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MY OWN ENCOUNTER

My husband, Terral Evans, appeared on season 2 of the TV show, “Swamp People”. During ﬁlming, the producers asked us to camp out an entire night in the swamp hoping we would have an encounter with the Swamp Monster. It was for the “Full Moon Fever” episode.

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the evidence he was in search of during the remaining years of his life. He passed away from a sudden heart attack, so we will never know the real reason he never came forth with this astonishing piece of evidence. My grandmother speculated that he was determined to get closer to it and know more about the mysterious creature. He knew if he turned the ﬁlm over to the media again, it would have caused a frenzy. Monster hunters would have come out of the woodwork and would have tried to shoot it or probably shot another monster hunter by accident. Ford also knew that scientists would try to capture it for study. So perhaps Harlan Ford thought “It” was better left alone instead of being turned into a science project.

We packed up our supplies and two wild-game motion cameras and took two camera men with us, who were city boys from up north and had never spent an entire night out in the swamp in a tent. We were dropped off on a riverbank and we hiked by foot the rest of the way. It was already getting late by then, so we had to hike fast. Terral had told us that we were going deep. Nightfall was coming quick, so we had to make camp while we had a little light left. After we cleared a spot for our tents, we gathered sticks and logs to make a fire. Terral set up two motion cameras in the woods surrounding the campsite. After we got the fire going, something threw a stick our direction. At first, we thought it might have been a squirrel dropping something from a tree, but another stick came sailing towards us. I started to get the feeling that something was trying to intimidate us and didn’t want us out there.

from local swampers who were credible enough to tell a good swamp tale, but I had no idea that I would come across as many credible eye-witnesses as I have over the years. Here are a few statements from those eye-witnesses. “What I saw scared the life out of me,” Herman Broom admitted. “I didn’t know whether it was man or beast. It had a face like a man and the body of an animal. The forward part of the face was smooth. Then it had long hair hanging around it.” “When it looks human, but you’re not quite sure it’s human, you don’t know whether to shoot or run back to the house. I’ll tell you the truth, it scared the heck out of me,” Bobby Smith claimed. “He just leaned back against a tree. His hands supporting his head and he was just staring at us. Never moved. Just kept staring.” Buddy Dean Crawford told us during his on-camera documentary interview. “He had hair all over his body. But a face that almost looked like a man,” Buddy Dean continued. The camera-men started to get alarmed. Then a little while later, we heard the sound of a large stick being beat against the tree. Terral walked around the area to check it out while we waited anxiously by the fire. He came back and said he didn’t see anything but a rabbit. Even if he would have found evidence, he may not have told us, knowing it would have caused a panic. But, I noticed, Terral kept his gun within hands reach. After everyone finally zipped their tents shut for the night, I could not fall asleep. For one, the ground was awful lumpy, and two, I knew there was a good possibility that whatever had thrown the sticks and beat on a tree, may have been the same creature, or related to the creature others had seen during daylight hours. But, in a dark swamp with a full moon hovering, I knew we were at the mercy of whatever it was, if it decided to attack. An hour or so after everyone was sleeping, I heard footsteps walking around the campsite. I sat up and peered through the screen window and everyone’s tent was still zipped closed. So I knew it was not someone in our group. I nudged Terral awake and told him that I heard something walking. He told me it was probably a wild boar and I should go back to sleep. But, it did not sound like an animal rutting around. It definitely sounded like two feet stepping on sticks in the woods around the campsite. Terral figured he was not going to get any sleep if he didn’t go check it out. So, he got out of the tent with his gun and checked the area once again. I was relieved when he came back and said he didn’t see anything. But, I know something was out there stalking us. Daylight came at last and we didn’t waste anytime packing up our tents. We took down the motion cameras on our way out. When we got back to our camp on the Pearl River, we looked at the film and there was something hairy in the corner of the lens. Terral had placed the cameras high in the trees, so it had to be something tall – or something that could climb. But, whatever it was seemed to have leaned over as if it was trying to figure out what the strange thing strapped around the branch was. Unfortunately, a lot of our experience that night didn’t end up in the final edit of that “Swamp People” episode. I have been fortunate to have heard of other encounters

“It stayed it’s distance,” Jerry Ross said. “Maybe it had been watching me and knew how to turn my generator on and off. Maybe he didn’t like the noise. It never bothered me though, other than turning off my generator. I didn’t want to ever tell anybody because they would think I was crazy. But, I swear this happened about two years ago,” Jerry Ross concluded. “We were in Debbie’s Ditch, which is between East Pearl and Middle River,” Jason Holburn claimed. “The moon was out so we didn’t need a Q-Beam to see. Then something about 50 yards away was crossing the canal. My ﬁrst instinct was maybe a deer or something. But when it was coming across, it actually looked like it was walking on two legs through the water. It got out on the other side and stood on two feet and shook it’s hair off then went into the woods.”

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Injections “We had been swimming at a sandbar,” David Schutte recalled. “As it got close to dark, something big and hairy came out of the woods and hit the water. I think if it was out there to hurt us, it would have probably hurt us by now. I think it is just better left alone.” “Let me track you in there about a mile and a half,” Terral Evans suggested. “I’ll build you a little fire. I’ll leave you with some Vienna Sausage and some Snicker Bars, and I’ll come back and get you the next morning. Then tell me how skeptical you are.” After making my documentary film and publishing my new book, Honey Island Swamp Monster Documentations, and hearing all the credible stories, I believe The Honey Island Swamp Monster is still roaming through the dense foliage, bound to be seen again by a new eye-witness who will have their own extraordinary story to tell. For more information on my documentary film and my new book, please visit my website. www.HoneyIslandSwampMonster.com You can also find us on Facebook.

On April 21, the Discovery Channel’s “American Monsters & Mysteries” TV series will air a story about the Honey Island Swamp Monster at 9 pm. Dana Holyfield - Evans was interviewed on the episode, along with Neil Benson from Pearl River Eco Tours and a local fisherman, David Schutte. Be sure to tune in!

Pearls and Honey Reliving old memories and making new ones

An old Indian proverb says that a man can never put his hand in a river twice in exactly the same spot. The water moves on to its destiny and the man must also move on to his destiny. That person may return to precisely that same spot and the old river may seem to look unerringly the same, but time, space and conditions change. Growing up in Slidell, I put my hand into West Pearl River and its associated waters many times while paddling a pirogue, lipping a bass or retrieving a duck. Although I slept in my parent’s house off Robert Road, I really grew up running Honey Island Swamp. I spent every possible hour exploring that pristine wilderness before moving away to start my own journey toward destiny. Pearl River ﬂows out of central Mississippi and meanders 490 miles to its own destiny in the marshes north of Lake Borgne. Along the way, it marks 119 miles of the Louisiana-Mississippi boundary. For about 200 miles south of Ross Barnet Reservoir near Jackson, Miss., the ever-changing river largely flows unvexed by man’s “improvements.” Bradley Slough splits from the main channel east of Talisheek, La., to create West Pearl, which actually carries the major ﬂow southward from that point. South of the split, the streams further subdivide into West Middle, Middle and East Middle Pearl rivers to form the Honey Island Swamp. Middle River used to branch off from West Pearl, but portions of it silted in so that it no longer directly connects to West Pearl. Numerous tributaries crisscross

the primeval wilderness, reputed to harbor a large hairy Bigfoot-type beast. I don’t know if the Honey Island Swamp Monster exists, but the entire system between the two major rivers creates a labyrinthine wetland teaming with ﬁsh and such animals as whitetail deer, alligators, squirrels, otters, mink, raccoons, rabbits, hogs and birds of every description. The land gradually slopes from upland forests to cypress and gum swamps to fresh and brackish marshes as it approaches Lake Borgne. Much of it remains forever wild, thanks to the 35,032-acre Pearl River Wildlife Management Area. Recently, after about a 30-year absence, I returned “home” among the gnarled cypress tress festooned with Spanish moss growing along the flowing waters. I drove

by John N. Felsher over Pearl River numerous times on the interstate and even ﬁshed it a couple times in the past 30 years, but as Thomas Wolfe said, “You can’t go home again.” Perhaps not, but I could make a short visit to relive some old memories and make new ones. Jeff Bruhl, a tournament bass angler from Madisonville, invited Kendra Maness and me to fish the Pearl. While Jeff and Kendra fished in the present, I jumped aboard a mental time machine and flew back to 1979 because every tree we passed reminded me of something that happened long ago. On this chilly, foggy dawn, Kendra, the publisher of Slidell Magazine, and I met Jeff at Crawford Landing. My dad and I used to run out of Crawford Landing in a 12-foot aluminum flatboat with a 6-horsepower

outboard when it looked like little more than a shell-covered opening on the bank. Later, I paddled my pirogue upstream against the West Pearl current to fish in nearby Gum Bayou. When the adjacent I-10 existed as little more than a wide swath cut through the swamp, we shot bows and arrows at dirt clumps where 18-wheelers now speed toward Mississippi or New Orleans.

Kendra and Jeff show off their catch!

“The water looks pretty good today,” Jeff advised. “We should have good fishing. The key to fishing West Pearl River is to fish it when the gauge at the town of Pearl River is at nine feet or less. If it gets higher than that, the water gets into the woods and it’s hard to reach the fish. The higher water also makes it muddy -- and that hurts the fishing. Devil’s Elbow sometimes produces some good ﬁsh.”

With heavy fog making navigating West Pearl treacherous, Jeff idled down to Devil’s Elbow just south of I-10 to ﬁsh the old oxbow off the main river. Once, while returning to the landing from a hunting trip years ago, I learned a valuable lesson about running the capricious river in low visibility.

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After storms ravaged the area for several days many years ago, the rising river carried scattered debris. Cruising with only the moonlight and our red and green running lights on an 18-foot wooden boat penetrating the inky blackness, we smacked into an entire tree drifting in the river. Caught on the motor, a large branch reared out of the water in the gloomy darkness, looking exactly like the head and neck of the Loch Ness Monster to a young boy with a vivid imagination. Fortunately, though, the “beast” did little real damage. After turning into Devil’s Elbow, Jeff pulled out a rod tipped with a Stanley Vibra Shaft spinnerbait and taught Kendra how to fish it tight to cover. As the vibrating spinner flashed close to a cypress knee growing along the bank, a largemouth bass smashed the offering, letting Kendra catch her first bass. Yanking a few keeper largemouth from Devil’s Elbow, we returned to West Pearl River. We drifted the main channel from Devil’s Elbow past Doubloon Bayou and Indian Village Landing, catching a few fish in the 1- 2 pound range along the way. “A lot of the bayous off the rivers have good fish,” Jeff said. “Some of the better places to fish are Doubloon Bayou and Wastehouse Bayou off East Pearl.” Fishing a tournament with the Honey Island Bassmasters in the late 1970s, my partner’s motor quit on West Pearl River just south of I-59. With little else to do, we drifted the river all the way down to the U.S. 90 bridge where my partner called for help in the days before cell phones. On the trip downriver with Jeff and Kendra, we retraced much of that same route. The swampy east bank remains largely as

I remember it, although perhaps a bit more open after several recent hurricanes ravaged the swamp. The west bank looked different. Houses lined the bank where none existed years ago. Someone even put a house on the exact spot where I always fantasized about building a log home just north of Doubloon Bayou.

“The marshes produce a lot of fish,” Jeff said. “It’s not hard to catch 100 bass a day, but they are usually less than 12 inches long. Some of the better places to ﬁsh in the marsh are Buck Bayou and Fawn Bayou, especially during the spring spawning season.”

We drifted past where a small channel once fed into Yellow Lake. I used to tempt toothy alligator garﬁsh in this swamp opening. Once, a hooked 8-footer vaulted from the water a rod length away from my 14-foot ﬂatboat. We also drifted past dry ground that obscured where an oxbow once connected with West Pearl. Now, the lost lake hides behind built-up silt and three decades of shrub growth.

As the sun rose higher, we headed for the shady trees lining West Middle Pearl River. Here, we caught some bass up to 3 pounds on soft plastics and spinners. Along the way, we passed the mouth of Mill or Pearlington Bayou, once a major artery connecting West Pearl and West Middle rivers. Returning to the landing on West Pearl with our fish, we ventured through Friday’s Ditch, named for a man who used that waterway as a shortcut to reach his Mississippi sweetheart.

I remember running into that oxbow and kicking up sand as we crossed the bar that eventually sealed off the lake. Beyond the bar, the ancient oxbow took on more of its former riverine shape. Rounding a couple bends, we stopped the boat next to some overhanging brush to wait for any passing wood ducks to ﬂy down the channel.

Years ago, “river rats” challenged the swift current of a much narrower Friday’s Ditch to prove our courage. Eventually, the powerful current greatly enlarged Friday’s Ditch until it captured the flow from the upper end of Mill Bayou. Silt then ﬁlled in a portion of Mill Bayou, the once popular thoroughfare slightly upstream from Indian Village Landing.

Author and outdoorsman, John Felsher

The marshes can produce a lot of largemouth bass. Among the most fertile habitats in the world, the delta wetlands also hold redfish, speckled trout, flounder and other species. Anglers frequently catch freshwater and saltwater species in the same spots with the same baits at the same time. Jeff put a huge flounder into the boat. We also caught bass and redfish.

Below Indian Village Landing, Jeff cranked up his outboard and we headed south toward the marshes. Below U.S. 90, the Pearl River delta spreads into a maze of bayous, ponds and sloughs. Several new “Katrina lakes” appeared where I remember only solid marsh grass growing while other old channels disappeared entirely.

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Our day complete, I reboarded the mental time machine for the warp back to the present. This time, though, I carried a little something extra, new memories forged with friends on another magical day exploring the treasure we call Honey Island Swamp.

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Welcoming Waters by Kendra Maness

pool has been enjoyed by generations of children and families. This was the reason for Karen’s call. “The pool is in danger of not opening because of finances,” she said. Although all of the members of the Pool Board and Homeowner’s Association are volunteers, the pool maintenance and lifeguards require funding. “We just don’t have enough members. And we really should, you know. This pool is a gem, it’s an amazing place to be.” “The pool is important to this neighborhood. We get to know each other as neighbors from being at the pool. We know each others’ kids and grandkids. I’ve met some of my very best friends at this pool. It is the focal point and the true community aspect in our neighborhood,” Karen says.

ast September, I received a call from Karen Gilley, a vivacious and energetic member of the Pool Board for Indian Village / River Oaks subdivisions off of Indian Village Road in Slidell. It was a plea for help from a neighbor. Our neighborhood pool, the beautiful and historic community jewel that serves as a family respite and social mecca, was in danger of closing. “Can you help?” Karen asked me. Admittedly, I’m not the ideal neighbor. With 7 dogs and a goat, I’m probably a homeowner’s worst nightmare. (The man that lives behind me – the one that enjoys quiet time and has the perfectly manicured, poop-free lawn – can attest to this.) I’ve always lived in rural areas, with lots of land for my brood of mutts and mutton. Thank goodness, Slidell offers rural living. Neighborhoods were just never my gig. Then I moved to Indian Village subdivision, off of Shortcut Highway. This oak laden community with the Pearl River winding through it is part of the greater Honey Island Swamp. The location is ideal – huge acreage for the rural land lover but only 5 minutes from Gause Blvd. It offers me the perfect amount of privacy mixed with Southern neighborly charm.

The Indian Village / River Oaks Homeowner’s Association is on a mission to save our pool – by sharing it! Along with the neighbors and families of Indian Village / River Oaks, the Pool Board invites you to come and enjoy the bounty of beauty and fun that is tucked away on the banks of the Pearl River. The Choctaw Indians were the first settlers of the area, using the Pearl River byways and pirogues for transportation. In the 1950’s and 1960’s, renowned artist George Dunbar developed the area, preserving the historic oak trees and offering waterfront properties by making bayous and canals where none had previously existed. “George made sure to leave the big oaks and to wind the roads around the landscape, not through it,” Karen says. “This was never a subdivision with tiny houses and tree samplings – it was built with an artist’s eye.” Part of Dunbar’s development included leasing out land, at $1/year, for a Boy Scout’s camp for black youth. (Remember, this was still a time of segregation. The Boy Scout Camp for white children was Camp Salmen, located off of Bayou Liberty.) The camp sprawled many acres along the Pearl River and included several buildings, including a camphouse, a pool house, and a huge, 9 foot deep, sub-Olympic pool.

“We are putting out a call for membership. We want to welcome other families and kids to experience the joy and beauty of this magical place. We need more members to keep the pool open. So, come and join in the fun!” Karen says. “You don’t have to be a homeowner to join the pool. We want to share it with Slidell and truly make it a COMMUNITY pool!” Membership for the season is only $200 for non-residents, with the season lasting from the day after school lets out through Labor Day. Karen says, “There are so many places in

In time, the Boy Scouts integrated and the Indian Village camp was abandoned. Some of the camp houses were modified into residences, but the pool and pool house remained in their original, pristine state, maintained by the neighborhood for the children of the area. For over 50 years, the

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Everyone agrees, the pool’s majestic setting is the most spectacular part. “It’s almost a God-like place,” Karen says. “You truly have to experience it to understand. It has reverence. It’s peaceful and serene. Wading through the pool or lying beside it, surrounded by huge, beautiful, century-old oaks dripping with moss; Interacting with friends and making new ones – it has something for everyone!”

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“If the kids are old enough and responsible and know how to swim well, they can come without their parents. It’s almost as if the pool and the environment are from another time - a simpler time. When children went outside and played, and brought their friends to play. There’s a Norman Rockwell feel to it. You see kids riding through the neighborhood on their bicycles with bathing suits on. It makes you feel good that you can offer that to the kids of the area.” It’s also great for sharing an evening with your sweetheart or some out-of-the-house family time. “Parents and kids can come out, bring their ice chests and picnic blankets. We have grills that are ready to use. And, because the pool is open until 8 o’clock in the evening, you can bring out food and grill and really enjoy a family dinner together.”

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this world where there is fear - fear of letting your children be kids and play outside like they should. It’s not like that here. There is the safety of the neighborhood and the surroundings. We all live right here and we monitor the pool. We have a lifeguard on duty so parents can feel confident about allowing their children to come enjoy the outdoors. It’s like the old adage – it’s the village watching the children,” Karen says.

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Applications for membership are also available at the pool throughout the season.

by John Maracich III Part of Drennan’s inspiration comes When Slidell Mayor Freddy Drennan from a visit to San Antonio. There, the stands on the dock at Heritage Park, he Riverwalk is a 2.5 mile long network of doesn’t just see families enjoying a sunny commercial activity, attracting tourists from day at the city’s most popular park. He everywhere. It started in 1938 when doesn’t just see the birthday parties, a storm sewer, created to divert joggers and boat enthusiasts all Bayou dangerous ﬂood waters from the taking advantage of what the park San Antonio River, was earmarked has to offer. Bonfouca for commercial development. San e m o c e an b Antonio mayor Jack White helped Freddy’s vision must be better than c l e w je pass bonds that raised funds to most of ours’ because what he sees “a real ” y it c begin the project. “If they can are rows of retail shops, fabulous e th r fo do that to a muddy canal,” says restaurants, high-end condos -Mayor Mayor Drennan, “imagine what and tourist accommodations all Drennan can be done with a beautiful hugging the bulkheads alongside cypress-laden bayou.” Bayou Bonfouca. Oh, you don’t see it too? Well sit with the mayor for a little Like the Riverwalk, the Bayou Bonfouca while and you’ll surely see his vision as development project would stem from clearly as he does. humble beginnings. 100 years of creosote production and runoff resulted in the area Freddy’s not the ﬁrst person to see the being declared a “Superfund” site by potential in the bayou. The beginnings of the EPA. Scary stuff. But after years of the city of Slidell are at Bayou Bonfouca remediation by public and private interests, where, in the late 1800’s, campsites Bayou Bonfouca eventually was restored surrounding the railroad construction zone to its original natural beauty. and creosote plant evolved to become a settlement, then a town, and eventually the city.

Beyond the Bayou Calling his vision “Beyond the Bayou,” Freddy doesn’t hesitate when describing its potential. “It’s a diamond in the rough,” says Drennan. “I’ve probably described it that way a hundred times. With the park and places like Palmettos serving as anchors, a Bayou Bonfouca development would become a real jewel for the city.”

The mayor has presented his ideas several times to groups like Leadership Northshore and Rotary. And while the concept hasn’t, to this point, gotten the traction the mayor would prefer, he remains undaunted in his quest to improve the footprint of his city.

So how does it start? “The ﬁrst step,” says Drennan, “is bringing the Tammany Trace into Heritage Park. Then it’s really up to the folks with the money to invest.”

“It won’t happen overnight. It can’t. It will have to grow and ﬁll in. But if we can get a jumpstart on this project through private/public partnerships it can become a real jewel for the city.” Freddy has some strong allies in his corner. City Council member Bill Borchert, an avid boater and proponent of economic development in the city, says it’s a great idea because “aside from being a great asset to the community, it brings an infusion of outside revenue into the city. It’s a great concept.” “Slidell is lucky to have a mayor with a vision like this,” says Brenda Burtus with the St. Tammany Economic Development Foundation, an organization that has been instrumental in attracting high-dollar projects like the Rooms to Go and Folgers Coffee distribution centers. “A multiphased development like this will bring the area alive.” “Right now, it’s just a Powerpoint presentation,” says the Mayor. “But why not? Everything starts with a dream.”

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Slidell Athletic Club is no cakewalk for these stars of the sporting world. Some underestimate the physical aspect of the competition, thinking they are in better shape than the other contestants, and get a rude awakening when they realize their workout regiments don’t work as well for dancing. Others may neglect the effect spotlights and cameras can have on their nerves. Those that fall into these categories are usually shown the door pretty early. But, underneath the sequins and the Rumbas, Dancing With the Stars gives the viewer quite a show. It is so bizarre to think about guys like Jerry Rice, Emmitt Smith, and Kurt Warner doing the Bolero or the Charleston. It seems so out of place to think of these athletes, who have endured massive hits on the court or ﬁeld and performed feats of physical endurance, gliding under a mirrored ball doing the Tango and the Cha-Cha. Most have met their athletic expectations head on and have done well. In many instances, ballroom dancing has turned out to be no exception. Make no mistake, this

“ Get your game face on!”

This year Jacoby Jones, one of the heroes for the Baltimore Ravens in the Super Bowl, will try his hand at the Waltz and the Jitterbug in this surprisingly intense competition. He is in great company. Athletes have done very well, with 7 of the 15 season winners coming from the sports arena. From boxers to basketball stars, Dancing With the Athletes has seen its wide spectrumed fair share of diverse jocks and jockettes. Looking at the many participants, one of the most surprising athletes has also been the biggest

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An athlete ﬁnishes dressing into his uniform and begins to psych himself up. The sweat already beading on his forehead, he knows he’s in for a grueling eight hour practice. “You can do this, YOU CAN DO THIS” he repeats in his head as he makes for the practice area. He is conﬁdent in his abilities but still has fears about the upcoming competition. He glances at his coach and prepares himself for the barrage he will endure for the next few hours. “We have a lot to go over and you were sloppy last time. Let’s go, 1...2...3...and left foot up, sweep to the side, sashay, sashay, spin out and jazz hands!” Not quite the sport you imagined, eh? That’s right, it’s that time again! Time for Dancing With the Stars on ABC! But this month, Jockularity brings you...(pause for effect)... Dancing with the Athletes! Every season, ABC’s hit show Dancing with the Stars pools together celebrities and professional dancers for a competition that has sky-rocketed into popularity.

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one to come from the football field. Warren Sapp is a Hall of Fame defensive tackle for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and the Oakland Raiders. This man is 300 pounds and was a terror on the field...and came in 2nd place on the dance floor. 2nd PLACE! This is a man who made his living bashing into other 300 pound men on the football field. And yet, he can Paso Doble as if he were 200 pounds and born in ballet flats. Puts me and my bowl full of jelly to shame. Another interesting athlete to compete in Dancing was Evander Holyfield. A bigtime former professional boxer, who is also famous for having his ear bitten off by Mike Tyson, Evander Holyfield was the Undisputed Champion in both the cruiserweight and heavyweight divisions. While he was not the most nimble, or successful, of this Dancing roster, (Judge Bruno Tonioli described the routine he and his partner put on saying, “It was like watching Terminator keeping up with Tinkerbell.”) he was certainly one of the biggest names on the list. Anyone who watched him dance could see he was very enthusiastic about this different, challenging sport, and that he had fun doing it. As Evander has shown, ballroom dancing is nothing to scoff at. Former defensive end Jason Taylor was worked to the bone when he was part of the show. “There’s no better way right now for me to get in shape and burn fat than what I’m doing,” he said at the time. “I’ve got more lean muscle than I’ve had in probably 10 years. I’m seeing my abs again.” There is nothing easy about ballroom dancing because, especially in competition, participants have to be sharp and precise with their movements, which can range from skipping and jumping to spinning and sliding. Hines Ward, a former Pittsburgh Steelers receiver and season 12 winner, said to PEOPLE magazine of the

competition, “I disrespected the show when I first came on. I was like, ‘I can do that.’ But I’ve been doing it and there’s a lot of hard work that goes into it. Be prepared to work your butt off. You’re going to lose weight, but it’ll be very grueling on your feet.” Besides the physical work, many athletes have had something much more surprising affect their performances: Nerves. Michael Irving, a former receiver for the Dallas Cowboys, is no stranger to attention - being a star receiver, a Hall of Fame inductee, playing in three Super Bowls and having countless other honors to his name. Yet, even he was bit by the nervous bug. “When I started I thought, ‘I’m going to win this thing. I’m a wide receiver, coordinated, I’m tall, I look good in those outfits, how hard can it be?’ Then the first time I went out on that stage, I was the scaredest guy in the world. Who knew? My partner had tried to warn me and I said, ‘I’m Michael Irvin. Hundreds of thousands of people — millions of people — watched me play football.’ And then when the lights came on, oh, my God.” Millions of people on 11 NFL seasons’ worth of Sundays watched this man be the main pass catcher of Troy Aikman. There are entire countries in the world who don’t get the kind of attention this man still gets. Who knew indeed? However, not many are so lucky. For these chosen athletes, failure is not something they are familiar with. Ron Artest, formerly “Metta World Peace,” is a well-known NBA star. He is fierce on the court and has won multiple awards, including an NBA Defensive Player of the Year award in 2004. He couldn’t defend himself from the criticism in season 13 of Dancing, though, as he was eliminated in the first week.

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Chuck Liddell is another former champion, a Hall of Fame UFC fighter, who failed to make it to the series finale. A scary man in the Octagon, Chuck was, well, still really intimidating on the dance floor. Bruno Tonioli described his last dance by saying, “you bring carnage and mayhem to everything you do.” While great for his image as a fighter, that image is not something you want as a dancer. Nevertheless, these guys have been fun to watch, even if they don’t make it far. I gotta say, bravo, ABC. They have done a good job of creating a show that takes a star from sports like boxing and football and puts them in an entirely different environment where we get to see a totally different side of the athlete. These masters of mega-million muscle matches are put to the test in an arena they are unfamiliar with. Who would have thought such a non-mainstream form of entertainment would capture the attention of so many? Count me as a believer in the magic of the ballroom with these stars. Now I hear of this new show called Splash!, which pits celebrities against each other in a series of diving competitions. Ndamukong Suh, a rough-edged defensive tackle, will be an interesting one to watch. “Cannonball!!!!” is the phrase that comes to mind. Only time will tell if this is just another wannabe or the real deal, like Dancing With the Athletes... I mean, Stars. Corey Hogue

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Sli-Ku I rolled over and looked at my clock…6:10am. “That’s odd,” I thought. I never wake up on my own. I need an alarm blaring at full volume just to pull me out of the near-coma state in which I sleep. At least I can take my time getting ready before heading off to my first class. As I walked down the hall, first to the kitchen and then to the bathroom, I noticed all my roommates were gone. No standing in line for coffee? No waiting on the shower to be free? I check my watch and notice that it is just after 7:15am; plenty of time to grab a quick bite at the student center. I walk across campus and there isn’t the usual frenzy of students crisscrossing the quad, but rather just a few here and there. I thought, “Well, it is finals week with Spring Break coming up. I guess everyone is studying.” Walking up to the cafeteria I place my order. I check the ticket to see my order number and notice the time printed on the receipt…its 9:28am. “Has to be a mistake,” I thought. I ask the guy next to me if he has the time. “Just after 9:30” he answered. “WHAT TIME!?”… An elaborate April Fools; the old “set his clock AND watch back 2 hours” prank. I missed my History 101 final and wound up with a B-; the prank justified as payback for blowing the grading curve the entire semester. Along with the 15th (known as Swallow’s Day in England – ironic because it’s the day the IRS swallows my savings account to cover the taxes I owe), April 1st makes up the only two days of this month of which I’m not a fan. With those two exceptions, I love me some April. It’s an easy month for me to love. It’s the month of my wonderful mother’s birthday. But with it also being National Poetry Month, Jazz Appreciation Month, and Arbor Day... this month is right up my alley. And how can I not mention this…April is “Hug a Haiku Writer” month! GET OUT! So, if you know anyone…hint hint…that fits this description…hint hint…be sure to be generous and offer up a nice big hug.

We can all be good citizens and dig into Arbor Day and plant a tree. Find a local nursery or tree farm and have them help pick out the perfect one for your landscape. You may want to add some extra shade for those hot summer days ahead. You may want to plant a fruit or nut tree; how cool is it to grow your own food? If you have a neighbor and your neighbor’s tree sheds leaves or needles on your side of the fence, don’t get mad…get even. Fight conifer with conifer! Plant a tree along his fence line and return the favor. At least it will be a “good natured” feud. Whichever reason - plant a tree. Daisies are the official flower of April so go ahead and plant a few of those to compliment your new tree. Don’t have a green thumb? Go on the Secret Gardens of Slidell tour on April 21st. All month long, Slidell shows signs of Mother Nature’s rebirth. Unique scents waft in the air: the earth and grass as they are tilled or mowed, the blossoms and swells on plant and bush alike, and the unforgettable smell of April showers. This bounty isn’t limited to vegetation. The crawfish are also plentiful and we all know what that means. Crawfish Boils! And another signature smell; any true Slidellian knows the unmistakable scent of crawfish boiling. Boils and Cook-Offs occur all month long. Fritchie Park will host the 10th Annual Crawfish Cook-Off where good food, good music, and good times are sure to be had by all. I have two confessions to make. First, I made up the “Hug a Haiku Writer” holiday…April Fools!! But I’ll still gladly take any hugs offered. Lastly, April’s birthstone is diamond. Everyone reading this who has a wife or girlfriend born in this month is quite aware of this little gem of information. When I was young and barely getting by, I had two “deal-breakers” when dating. She couldn’t like pets…and she couldn’t be born in April. As I’ve grown older and matured, obviously I’ve come to see how cheap that made me look and honestly, I am embarrassed that I once felt that way. Today I can proudly say I’m down to one “deal-breaker.” I have 7 dogs and 2 cats…guess which deal breaker I still have?

Shower me with life And my soul will grow with hope April’s full…me too

Until next time…

Lee Kreil

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I tell him the truth. “Fear. Uncertainty. Confusion.” “I know, I know,” he smiles. “It sounds scary – but it doesn’t have to be.” These are comforting words, born of 30+ years of experience, from Ray Guzman, the affable and knowledgeable owner of Benefit Management and Brokerage. As the trusted health and life insurance agent to thousands of individuals, families and employers, Ray makes it his priority to not only stay up-to-theminute in the changes taking place in health care reform, but also to act as a counselor to all of us (like me!) who face the challenges of a new era in the health insurance industry. “We understand that the recent changes in Health Care can be confusing. We are here to help you navigate the insurance world to make sure you get the unique products that best suit your needs. Our goal, as an Agency, is to give you the best possible customer service – by taking the time to answer your questions and to work with you to find the best options for each individual, or each employer. We are a local company, so we are here with you, going through the changes and answering your questions before and, most importantly, AFTER you purchase a policy.” Benefit Management and Brokerage has served Southern Louisiana and Mississippi for over 30 years, settling into their offices

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Good Samaritan Ministry The First Steps in Crisis

By Carol Ruiz

Samaritan (noun) - a charitable or helpful person (with reference to Luke 10: 30-35)

Most of you remember the parable Jesus told about a man who was robbed, beaten and left for dead on the side of the road. Though many passed him by, it was only the “Good Samaritan” who took the time to minister to the man’s wounds. Giving a nearby innkeeper some money, he saw to the man’s long term needs of shelter, meals and healing. He took personal responsibility for a stranger in crisis. The mercy shown by Jesus’ “Good Samaritan” is a wonderful lesson. It’s a lesson that comes alive when we challenge ourselves to be personally responsible to help our fellow brothers and sisters when they find themselves in unfortunate situations. This is the attitude of the Good Samaritan Ministry here in Slidell, directed by Susan Rotolo, using donated office space at St. Luke’s Catholic Church. Humbly started in 1993, the ministry is part of St. Luke’s Social Apostolate to address the social issues of the poor in the area. The local group of well trained volunteers has been recognized by Catholic Charities for their work in vetting stories, verifying client information, check writing processes, and their ability to minimize fraud. Because of their excellent management of the charity and the funds, in addition to the fact that “Good Sams” (as it is affectionately known) already had a facility in place, Catholic Charities chose them as a backbone in distributing Katrina aid. This is when, Susan says, Good Sams morphed into a new stage. With the award of $250,000 from Catholic Charities, they were able to assist qualified local residents with needs like mattresses, refrigerators and many other necessities. Teaming up with Catholic Charities increased the public’s awareness of

Good Samaritan’s presence in the community. St. Margaret Mary Catholic Church also joined forces with St. Luke’s after the storm and the coalition gave much needed funds to the ministry, allowing them to give out aid for a full year after Katrina. St. Margaret Mary maintains an emergency food pantry at their location; however, they send clients needing ﬁnancial assistance to the Good Sams program at St. Luke’s. Both parishes believe the partnership continues to satisfy a great need in the community. Volunteers with this ministry have a heart for service. They are compassionate, trustworthy, and empathetic to the needs of others. Volunteers usually continue with the program for years, with most on the Good Sams’ staff working for 5 years or more. The ministry has about 30 weekly core volunteers, and over 100 seasonal volunteers throughout the year. Many are professional and lay people that come from the two anchor Catholic parishes of St. Luke’s and St. Margaret Mary. Some volunteers work only on special projects such as collecting, sorting and distributing Thanksgiving food baskets. Another project is the Christmas Tree

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Sale, where high quality, fresh cut, premium grade Frasier Fir trees are sold, with 100% of the proceeds benefiting the Ministry. Good Sams also has a Project Christmas program, which provides gifts for children and the elderly. It is truly a blessing to see the toys, bicycles and gifts flowing into the office at St. Luke’s, knowing the joy that they will bring to struggling families or lonely seniors. Other Good Sams’ volunteers are trained to interview clients, working with them closely to identify their needs and find the best way to help. Susan encourages more people in the community to volunteer. “There is a place for anyone who is willing to help, even if you only have a couple of hours a month!” The services provided by this growing ministry include help with paying bills, emergency food, school supplies, home repairs and consulting on how to secure local government programs and services, tax services and job assistance programs. They have implemented a pro-bono program where local professionals could use the ministry to vet prospective clients and make sure there is a legitimate need. This includes services for needs such as medical, dental, tutoring by certified teachers, vision, and legal services. It truly is a network of volunteers, getting others the help they need when hard times hit. Susan says that another big change is a grant writing program started to insure that the ministry has longevity and their financial stability is more evenly spread out. With this program in place, Good Sams now has many partners like The Winn Dixie Foundation, United Way, The Brown Foundation, and The Rosa Mary Foundation. “Being in the grant writing arena, coupled with the other recent changes, has given the ministry the exposure it needs,” Susan said.

Through fundraising events and winning three awards from the Homebuilders Association “Raising the Roof for Charity”, Good Sams was able to fund an expansion for the Caring Center, Slidell’s only transitional housing for women and children that are homeless not due to domestic violence. At the Caring Center, clients can stay for as little as 6 weeks or as long as 1 year, and receive similar assistance to outside programs that will aid them in getting back on track and on their own. Good Sams has enjoyed a long relationship with the Caring Center and has shared in their angst when women and children were turned away from the center simply because there was no room. The expansion will increase the capacity of the center by 60%. The project is a collaboration of many people working together for a common goal. People like Parish Councilman, Gene Bellisario, working with the Home Builders Association, Andrew Pefﬂey Construction Company, constructing the main building, Dale Kimball, Executive Director of the Epworth Project committing volunteer labor, and the ﬁnancial support of the anchor churches, St. Luke’s and St. Margaret Mary. This project is a beautiful example of community coming together and being blessed by God.

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Treasure Jewelry Donated bikes for Christmas gifts to needy children Susan says, “Having Gene Bellisario join the board, as our social advocate, was a huge blessing. Gene is able to make the necessary connections with the parish government and he is very involved with United Way, Commission on Families and the Homeless Coalition.” Mr. Bellisario is, in essence, the face of the Good Samaritan Ministry to the government and social welfare agencies. With all of this in place, the mission has changed slightly to not only giving immediate financial aid, but to teach their clients “how to fish” so to speak. In other words, why try to do a job that others are doing so well? For example, a Good Sams volunteer researches existing programs such as Food Stamps. If clients come in with an ongoing need for food but are not currently receiving food stamps, Good Sams now has three volunteers who can assist these clients in applying for the program. This process does not guarantee approval, but it helps make the important connections to assist with their ongoing needs. According to Susan, “It’s about hearing the need from the clients, helping with the immediate crisis and putting them in touch with the services and programs already in place that they may not be aware of.” Since the beginning of their fiscal year on July 1, 2012, Good Samaritans Ministry has given $125,000 in direct aid and, with the combined outreach programs in place, over $335,000! Much like in Jesus’ parable, clients that are referred to Good Samaritans Ministry are met with kindness, compassion, and understanding. They experience God through the volunteers; their immediate needs are addressed and they are accompanied on what can be a difficult path. For most clients, it is empowering to have a place to go when in crisis and receive advice, delivered with a tender and compassionate heart. They are not alone, and their hope is restored. Keenly aware of the potential for fraudulent claims, Good Sams counselors are diligent in verifying each applicant’s story and are well trained to ask the hard questions, spot fraud and abuse situations, and maintain compassion. Susan notes that it’s a balancing act between being a good steward of the monies that have been entrusted to them, and being willing to look clients in the eye and really ask the challenging questions. Clients seeking assistance must have proof of their need, a picture ID, a social

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security card, proof of income and copies of bills. With this information, Good Sams counselors can usually verify needs within 30 minutes and, in most cases, checks can be written to pay bills that same day. Susan Rotolo and her capable volunteers understand that all of us are different. We have varying educational levels, individual hardships, and different illnesses. For some, it is simply harder to pull themselves up by their bootstraps. But she says, we can’t fault those of us who struggle because, “there but for the grace of God, go I.” Good Samaritan Ministries realizes that it could be ANY ONE of us at ANY given time. And their mission continues: to show that we are all loved equally by God and to see clients as He sees them, worthy of dignity and respect. Susan says, “We are here; ready to serve the communities of Slidell, Pearl River and Alton.” Because of the tremendous amount of service that Good Sams provides, she adds, “We are in need of many more volunteers, counselors, and professionals.” Also needed is a grant administrator and a volunteer (or many!) to help grow the pro-bono program. Soon, the Ministry will be expanding into two new areas. Good Sams recently received a grant for $10,000 to start a program called “Secure Beginnings”. It is their hope to begin working with the Crisis Pregnancy Center in Slidell to provide formula for infants of working single mothers who are struggling. Another new area of service is a prison ministry which St. Luke’s pastor, Fr. Lomax, hopes to start and Good Sams hopes to fund. The Caring Center, which is beautifully run by Mary Holland, should be nearing completion this month. It is the hope of Good Sams that the community will assist the center by donating funds, furniture, beds, and those things that make a house a home.

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“The Good Samaritan” Artist: Paula Modersohn-Becker, 1907

SELF SERVICE CAR WASH

Volunteers at Good Sams do good work here and bring their talents to bear. Although the teachers, dentists, nurses, lawyers, lay people, doctors, and counselors involved in this ministry don’t seek praise for the work they selﬂessly do, we are grateful and it is apparent that the community is enriched by their service. They have a love for their growing ministry, and their work is blessed and graced by God. For more information about the Good Samaritan Ministry visit: www.stlukeslidell.org or call the St. Luke’s ofﬁce: (985) 641-6421

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“Still Dancing with the Mom ” by Rose Marie S and, kept us laughing ‘til we cried at Slidell Litt le Theatre

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