48th edition - July 2014 by Slidell Magazine

THE OFFICIAL MAGAZINE OF SLIDELL

      H A P PY I N D E P E N D E N C E DAY

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magazine Vol 48 July 2014

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Bald Eagles In Slidell

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Editor's Letter "What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from." -T.S. Eliot

n July 12, my friends Amber Gagliano and Brian Friel will be married. Amidst hundreds of friends and family members, the huge Italian/Irish wedding promises to be a celebration for the record books! As the big day draws near, the photographers and caterers, bride and groom, attendants and participants all ready themselves. The attention is in the details. The presents are already arriving, and the gift registry choices have dwindled down to the non-necessities of juicers and pillowcases.

I work with Brian and have a front row seat to all of the fun and frenzy of planning a big wedding. Granted, Brian’s participation is on the lighter side, as is the case with most grooms. But he is enjoying the planning process, and savoring the excitement – and his enthusiasm is contagious. Brian and Amber got their heads on straight, that’s for sure. The wedding is a day, but marriage is a lifetime – they both are well aware. Anyone that meets this awesome couple has no doubt that their lifetime will be a long and happy one together. The presents and the planning, the family and friends, the fun and the frenzy – these are all the little things in a whole lot bigger picture. It is truly a beautiful thing to witness a love like theirs. Congratulations my friends. Your future beacons you.

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www.SlidellMag.com • 985-789-0687 Kendra Maness - Editor/Publisher Editor@SlidellMag.com

Brian Friel - Graphic Designer Graphics@SlidellMag.com Contributing Writers Donna Bush Sli-Ku, Lee Kreil The Storyteller, John Case Jockularity, Corey Hogue Pet Points, Jeff Perret, DVM Slidellicacies, John Maracich III Crimmi-Mommly Insane, Leslie Gates Once Upon A Time...In Slidell, Ronnie Dunaway EFOP, Charlotte Lowry-Collins Lori Gomez www.LoriGomezArt.com Mike Rich MikeRich@mypontchartrain.com Rose Marie Sand Rose@RoseMarieSand.com

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Extraordinarily Fascinating “Ordinary” People Sponsored by

Ellen Lamarque By Charlotte Lowry Collins

When asked to write about an Extraordinarily Fascinating, Ordinary Person, I was given two rules. One - they must be “ordinary” in terms of position in the community (no CEOs, elected officials, public figures, etc). Two - they must be a Slidellian. You may think that rules out a lot of fascinating people, but I assure you there is a plethora of those who affect our community without acknowledgement or titles. This month’s EFOP is someone I have always liked and respected, and you probably know her. She is a native Slidellian, classmate of mine from the seventies, and a kindred educator. But little did I know the extent of her involvement! Two years ago, I was sitting at a conference table, reading about our top applicants for the 2011-2012 Chamber of Commerce Outstanding Educator Award, and wondering how in the world I would choose. Of course the

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names were blanked out. All of the nominees were so passionate, so giving of their time, so accomplished. And then, I read the one that struck me, and I unintentionally whispered aloud, “Wow.” The other members of the committee looked at me with knowing smiles. One comment I vividly recall was, “How does she even have a life? Her poor family must never see her.” Since then, I’ve come to realize that her children, and now her grandchildren, are with her every step of the way, volunteering alongside this community leader.

teacher, Ms. Annie Wolcott. “Ms. Wolcott was a very traditional teacher, and I remember watching her intently, as she wrote equations on the chalkboard for the class to decipher. I couldn’t wait to solve them!” And solve them she did. By the end of her junior year of high school, she was envisioning herself as the teacher at the chalkboard. She began to dream of being the one who was writing equations, and sharing her love for numbers with students who would be just as rapt at the challenge of solving logic and math puzzles.

Let me ask you to think back to the passionate professionals from your youth. Chances are they left a particularly strong impression. A few of you may even feel that they changed the direction of your life. This is precisely how our EFOP found her calling as a young student/ teacher. Her mentor was her Mathematics

So who is this EFOP? Hint: her daddy, Charles “Cut” Nunez, “Begged me not to go into education.” But, as you can imagine, she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, give up her dream of helping young adults see the beauty in the precision of math. For those who haven’t had the opportunity to feel the energy of

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Of course, you know working with her, let that’s not all she is me introduce you: doing, right? Ellen Nunez Lamarque got her math degree Let me describe how my and passed the teacher interview went at Ellen certification test, and and John Lamarque’s immediately landed a home in Brugier, one of teaching position in Pt. the older, more desirable Coupee Parish. It wasn’t neighborhoods in Slidell. long though before she During my tour of the returned home to Slidell 1926 home built by as a divorced mother Claude Schneider, I was with two children, continually distracted where she would teach from the history of the students at Salmen, home by John and Ellen’s Northshore, and Slidell family photographs High Schools. Those smiling at me from every were lean times for her room. She pointed out and her children. Ellen the Christian keepsakes, says, “I remember saying, “God is my rock counting pennies to get The whole family (minus two more grandchildren born after this through all of this and enough for gas money.” I believe that is why I picture was taken) in Gulf Shores. The entire vacation was Despite the tough times am so blessed.” Then pirate-themed! and having young there was the artwork, children to support, basketry and pottery that her caring and giving I knew had a great story to tell me. Alas, there nature never stopped. She even opened her wasn’t enough time to ask about everything I home to Scandinavian exchange students, and Professional Teaching Standards Certification encountered, as we also had many visitors. treated each of them as if they were her own. in high school mathematics. By now, perhaps, Grandsons and granddaughters popped in with “We’ve since returned to Denmark twice to you do expect that from Ellen. great big smiles and open arms. They were visit Louise, because we missed each other so entirely confident that “Meemaw” would stop In 2003, known as Ellen Ellinwood, this much.” and give them a hug in spite of this stranger, extraordinary educator was called upon to writing intently, with a voice recorder trailing Now you sense Ellen’s passion. But as an create and develop the Substitute Training cords, indicating that serious work was being educator myself of Kindegarten through Program in order to keep continuity in the conducted. John would swoop in and guile college, I can give you a glimpse of this classroom when the regular teacher was them away with the offer of a game. I realized educator’s challenge. Try to imagine the absent. “I loved mentoring them, but my heart that Ellen was never too busy for each of them juggling involved with keeping 20-30 students ached to teach. I really missed the kids.” As to be the most special person at that moment. not merely on task, but engaged, and successful. to the impact Ellen had, we can look at Anne I envisioned that this was exactly how her Each of them needs that extra assurance, a Baird, "a vibrant, enthusiastic math student students felt in the classroom, as they raised a bigger challenge, or reminders of the rules. I taught that became Salmen High Teacher hand for her attention. Not only are you moving constantly, keeping of the Year." Ellen proudly reminisced about a sideways glance on the students where you many of her students in the 80's and 90's who Ellen says, “I know I am lucky to have taught aren’t standing, answering questions… but followed her path and became math teachers. when teachers had the ability to create their you are also diligently completing all of the How could she continue to effect the next own curriculum, lesson plans and alter these paperwork – simultaneously! The bell rings, generation if she couldn’t be with them on a lessons as the students' needs were evidenced. and you start this process all over again, before daily basis? The high schools needed math I teach the child, not the curriculum. I bring the bell can ring again an hour later. If you add teachers, and Ellen wanted to end her career them from wherever they are at that time to managing student teachers at the same time, with students, mathematics, and the new the level they are supposed to be achieving. I it takes a very organized person capable of technology. Billy Percy, Slidell High School’s taught them how to think through the process, complex multi-tasking to handle everything. principal, encouraged Ellen to return to SHS, not how to simply pass the test.” When asked I don’t want to bore the non-educators out her alma mater, and TEACH. And that is about the future for education, Ellen told me there, but there is so much more to dedicating exactly what she did, teaching junior and that she had faith that “as long as the teachers your life and career to education than most senior level mathematics. During this time, she care, students will learn.” She remembers of us ever realize. Ellen’s passion and also took care of her parents after her Mom had when her granddaughter, Kayla, was crying professionalism were obvious and appreciated a stroke, visiting every day, and handling the “because she was afraid if she didn’t pass the -- she has been honored as Chamber Educator details. Whew! fourth grade LEAP test, her teacher may not of Distinction, Teacher of the Year multiple keep her job. She said ‘I love my teacher, and As stated earlier, Ellen was a master at handling times, and Louisiana PTA Educator of she loves us.’ Why isn’t that even part of the classroom work, school and civic involvement Distinction. Ellen was known for teaching evaluations?” Ellen is concerned for students AND parenting. Now that she is retired, Ellen upper level mathematics, coaching, assuming because “politics and private business are now and husband John can devote even more of the role of club sponsor, chaperoning dances, trying to improve the educational process. their time enjoying their thirteen grandchildren. manning the athletic concessions stands, But they don’t understand how all the pieces “Now, I just want to hold babies! How else can serving as PTA President, and (her favorite of the learning puzzle fit together. They don’t you have someone clap and shout ‘Yay!’ when role) as teacher mentor for the “newbies.” encounter kids who haven’t eaten breakfast or you walk in a room, and cry when you have To top all of this, she was the second teacher who are sleeping in a car. You need to take into to leave?” statewide to achieve the National Board for account the emotional, physical, and mental components of learning.”

The more I saw and heard, the more convinced I was that I had selected a great EFOP. As an educator with 33 years of experience, I believe that students are the litmus test for a great teacher. Students know what is reality in that classroom for them individually. Obviously, Ellen Lamarque has passed the test, as she showed me a photo from her daughter’s wedding, with a huge group of former students hugging her. “As long as caring teachers have the heart to lead, education will continue, regardless of new accountability pressures.” She also passed the test in the eyes of her husband, John, who is the past President of the School Board. “We have linked our families, and are all working on the future for our community together.” Ellen has also had the joy of bringing her own children to work alongside her, volunteering for such organizations as Children’s Hospital, Toys for Tots, Relay for Life, Kiwanis Club, Elks, and Rotary. Her charity work and her profession have always gone hand in hand. “The community revolves around education. Our community is a result of the schools. I can’t wait to go to church and ball games, because I get to see my past students and their kids. It is fun, fun, fun to see the passion passed on.” Since retiring, Ellen has been involved with Our Lady of Lourdes, Slidell Memorial Hospital, Women’s Health Alliance, The

Chamber’s Education Committee, and Friends of the Northshore Harbor Center. Her biggest contribution has been as President of the Slidell Women’s Civic Club, where she volunteers for Habitat for Humanity, My Girlfriend’s Closet, Mt. Olive Feeding Ministry and countless other local organizations. “I want my community to shine like a gem,” she says. And, then there is her yard! All around you there are birds that flit from flowers, then back up to the cool canopy of trees. Ellen is an avid gardener and told me proudly that the Camellia Community Market was dedicated to her father, “Cut” Nunez. “I remember growing and picking the vegetables in his garden, then selling them at the bait shop on Shortcut and Military.” She even has his original chalk board where they wrote ‘Tomatoes, 5¢ each.’ Part of Ellen’s community passion is borne from her family history, which is deeply rooted in Slidell. She is a 7th generation descendent of the Guzman family. Yes, that’s the Guzman family that the street in Olde Towne is named after. For those who do not know this piece of our history, the Guzman family was one of the largest landowners in Eastern St. Tammany Parish at one time. “My grandfather, Charles Pierre Nunez, married Ella Guzman. He came to Bayou Bonfouca to fish and hunt from his family community in the Irish Channel. The Guzman Ferry landing was right at the Bonfouca Bridge, where my grandmother

was born. After that home burned down, the Guzmans moved to the big home on the corner of Carey and Old Spanish Trail. My father and his six siblings were born at the house on the corner of Tenth and Fremaux, which was considered the country, and Fremaux was just a little dirt road. In 1971-72, I used to stay with my grandmother if I had extra-curricular activities at SHS, so I was closer and could walk to school. I remember there was always the smell from something on her stove cooking, and clothes on the line with a vegetable garden in the back yard. She worked herself to the bone, and yet when she went to Neuhauser’s or anywhere in town, she had on white gloves, a hat and pump heels. I always felt safe and attached to Olde Towne, which is why I live in Brugier now. It has what I remember as ‘Old World Charm.'" Ellen closes by saying, “I never want to stop making this community better for my grandchildren. I based my volunteer work around my family and always brought them with me. My parents instilled this in me and hopefully, 50 years from now, my great grandchildren will still be doing the same.” As I was saying goodbye, Ellen and her granddaughter were in the middle of a Tango dance on the front lawn. You may see them there yourself as you drive around Brugier and nearby Olde Towne.

Heritage Bank of St. Tammany Roots as deep as your own.

sors, n o p S n o s a e S ltural u C 4 1 0 2 3 of r a e y ic Dear 201 t s a t er fan h t o n a r o f u hout it w it o Thank yo d ’t couldn e W ! s t n e v e cultural you! k n a h T . t r o p p your su lidell S f o y it C e Th

The City of Slidell and the Commission on the Arts extend a gracious thank you to our 2013-2014 Cultural Season Sponsors who have helped make the city’s cultural events and exhibitions possible.

Renaissance • $5,000 Sponsors:

Baroque • $2,500 Sponsor: CLECO Power, LLC | Expressionist • $1,500 Sponsors: Ronnie Kole Foundation • Van Geffen Wealth Strategies | Neoclassical • $1,000 Sponsors: Bargains Plus!/Postal Plus! • Lowry-Dunham, Case & Vivien Insurance Agency The Slidell Independent | Impressionism • $500 Sponsors: 4G Printing • Baskin Robbins/Coy and Donna Faucheux Councilman Bill & Laura Borchert • Dr. Nathan Brown, Northlake Oral & Facial Surgery • Chateau Bleu State Representative Greg Cromer • In Memory of Wayne Dunne • Northshore Harbor Center Pontchartrain Investment Management • Rotary Club of Slidell Northshore • Signs Now LA Public Service Commissioner Eric Skrmetta • Sunrise on Second Street • Terry Lynn’s Café & Creative Catering Vicky Magas Insurance Agency • Tanya Witchen, Re/Max Real Estate Partners These Olde Towne Slidell Main Street & Louisiana Cultural District events are supported by a grant from the Louisiana Division of the Arts as administered by the St. Tammany Commission on Cultural Affairs.

Cultural Season Sponsorships are now available. Please call Alex Carollo at (985) 646-4375 for more information.9

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Sleeping Beauty Cutting Edge Theater • 2pm

MON

Chamber Marketplace Meet The Artist 5 - 7pm

Grand Opening Copeland’s 3:30 - 4:30pm

July

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Marine Corps Band Free Concert Harbor Center • 7pm

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Ambassador Meeting TBD • Noon

Education Committee Chamber Boardroom • 8:30am

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The Wonderful World of Walt Cutting Edge Theater • 2pm

Liars & Lunkers Kid’s Fishing Tournament Pearl River Lock One

“Legally Blonde” Slidell Little Theatre • 7pm

“Peter Pan Jr.” Slidell Little Theatre • 1pm

“Zombeo & Juliet” Slidell Little Theatre • 7pm

“Fun & 42nd” Slidell Little Theatre • 1pm

Gun & Knife Show Harbor Center

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Grand Opening Speck’s Eatery 3:30 - 4:30pm

Grand Opening Direct Auto Insurance 3:30 - 4:30pm

EYP After Hour Social Rotolo’s Pizzeria 5 - 7pm

Chamber Luncheon News from the Capitol Harbor Center 11:30am - 1:30pm

THU 4

Heritage Park 4 pm - 11 pm

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“Fun on 42nd” Slidell Little Theatre • 7pm

SCORE Free Business Counseling Chamber Boardroom BY RSV. ONLY • 1-3pm

Business After Hours Slidell Memorial Hospital Founder’s Building 5 - 7pm

SCORE Free Business Counseling Chamber Boardroom BY RSV. ONLY • 1-3pm

“Peter Pan Jr.” Slidell Little Theatre • 7pm

Free Business Counseling Chamber Boardroom BY RSV. ONLY • 9am-3pm Business After Hours Inside Northside Chamber • 5 - 7pm

Carey Street Crawl Olde Towne • 5-10pm

Children’s Book Signing “Juju the GOOD Voodoo” Mia Sorella • 8pm

The Wizard of Oz • Jubilee Theatre • 7pm The Wonderful World of Walt • Cutting Edge Theater • 7pm

Carey Street Crawl Olde Towne • 5-10pm

August

Guest Speakers: Northshore Harbor Center Wednesday, July 16 Senator A.G. Crowe 11:30am - 1:30pm State Representative Kevin Pearson House Representative Greg Cromer

News from the Capitol

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Slidell Movie Nights Heritage Park • 8pm

The Wonderful World of Walt • Cutting Edge Theater • 7pm

E 1

“Peter Pan Jr.” Slidell Little Theatre • 7pm

“Legally Blonde” Slidell Little Theatre • 1pm

“Fun & 42nd” Slidell Little Theatre • 7pm

SMH Lunch & Learn “Learn to LOVE the Skin You’re In” Founder’s Building • 11:30am

“Legally Blonde” Slidell Little Theatre • 7pm

Slidell Movie Nights Heritage Park • 8pm

Gun & Knife Show Harbor Center

SAT

“Zombeo & Juliet” Slidell Little Theatre • 1pm

“Zombeo & Juliet” Slidell Little Theatre • 7pm

Public Policy Committee Chamber Boardroom • 8am

2 0 1 4

J U L Y

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Communications Committee Olde Towne Soda Shop • Noon Heritage Festival

SECOND WEDNESDAY LUNCHEON

Grand Opening Delgado Comm College 3:30 - 4:30pm “Cups & Conversation” p Chamber Marketplace 5 - 7pm

OLDE TOWNE ART CENTER EXHIBIT • SHOW RUNS THOUGH AUGUST 1ST

June

SUN

St. Tammany Crab Festival John Davis Park, Lacombe 12 - 8pm

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Look for the RED Fleur de Lis For more info: 643-5678

Chamber Events!

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In Celebration of Independance Day...

Bald Eagles in Louisiana (or is it an Osprey?) © Donna Bush

story and photos by Donna Bush

ave you ever seen a large whiteheaded bird on a summer day in southern Louisiana and wondered if it was a bald eagle?

While it’s true that they winter and nest here, they are typically long gone during the summer. What you are actually seeing is an osprey, nicknamed the fish eagle or fish hawk. They are also called seahawks, as in Seattle Seahawks, whose mascot is the osprey. There are lots of similarities between bald eagles and ospreys. They both have brown bodies and white heads. However, ospreys have a distinctive black eyestripe that runs down the sides of their faces. This eyestripe helps to cut the glare on the sunlit water, much like the black smudges underneath a football player’s eyes. Bald eagles have bright yellow legs and bills. Ospreys have white legs and black bills. Juvenile bald eagles are almost totally brown, with very little white on their head until 4-5 years old. Juvenile ospreys are mostly brown until they are 3 years old. 12

Both birds are found near water – lakes, rivers, and marshes. Ospreys are found on every continent, except Antarctica. Bald eagles are only in North America, with the highest concentration living in Alaska. The Alaska Chilkat Bald Eagle Preserve was established in June of 1982 to protect 48,000 acres of critical habitat. Bald eagle range extends to Canada and northern Mexico. Even though the bald eagle has been the national bird symbol of the United States since 1782 and a spiritual symbol for native people far longer, they were once hunted for sport and for “protection” of fishing grounds. In 1940, The Bald Eagle Act was passed which prohibited the human harassment of eagles. DDT adversely affected the bald eagle population in the 1950’s, causing thinning of their eggshells. This chemical was easily absorbed into the fish that eagles ate, thereby impeding successful reproduction. With new laws that restricted the use of DDT in the early 1970’s, the eagle was able to recover and is considered a threatened species, instead of endangered. The bald eagle is much larger than the osprey with a body length of 28-38 inches, compared to the osprey’s 2124 inches. An eagle’s wingspan can

range from 6 - 7 ½ feet. The osprey’s wingspan is 5 - 6 feet and weighs 2-½ to 4-½ pounds. The eagle weighs from 7-14 pounds. As you can see, the eagle is much larger than the osprey. Males and females of both species have identical coloring, with the females being distinctively larger than their male partners. Bald eagles mate for life and reach maturity around 5 years of age. They exhibit elaborate courtship displays where the male and female will lock talons high in the air, rolling in the sky toward the ground, releasing prior to hitting. In south Louisiana, they nest between November and April, with their young fledging in April and May. The usual clutch size is two eggs, but Mom may lay from one to three eggs over a period of several days. This staggered laying makes it easier on the parents to feed the eaglets. Of course, the first one hatched is much stronger and bigger than the later ones and tends to take food away from its younger siblings. Both parents participate in incubation and feeding of the young, but the female is the main nest builder. Nests are made of all natural materials, sticks, mud and grass. They tend to be very large, ranging over 6 feet wide in tall trees.

The pair will reuse the nest from year to year, making repairs as needed. Other birds, such as osprey and great horned owls, will make use of eagle nests after the eaglets fledge. Incubation takes about 35 days and fledging occurs 1012 weeks after hatching. The average life span of a bald eagle in the wild is 28 years. Their primary diet is fish, but they will also eat reptiles, small mammals and carrion. Adults bring their catch back to the nest, tearing small strips and feeding the eaglets. A bald eagle has a lifting power of close to 4 pounds. An eagle’s eye is almost as large as a human’s eye, but their vision is 4 times stronger than a human with perfect vision. Not all bald eagles in North America migrate, but those in our area do, with complex migration patterns, depending on age, food availability and breeding location. Relatively new research from LSU grad student, Nickolas Smith, shows that our bald eagles head all the way to Canada for the summer. Smith is fitting bald eagles with satellite GPS systems in order to track their travels. Most bald eagles return to Louisiana in November. Newly fledged bald eagles migrate before their parents. It is not known

how they know when to leave or where to go. Hopefully the new research of Louisiana bald eagles will help answer these questions. It is known that juvenile eagles will return to the same area they were born to nest, thereby increasing our bald eagle population. Ospreys also mate for life. Their courtship displays are unique, known as “fish flight.” The male catches a

fish and offers it to the female while screaming. If she accepts, he will feed her the fish, a behavior which continues through the nesting season and until the young fledge. In Louisiana, they nest later than bald eagles, nesting from April through July. The female lays 2-4 eggs in a staggered fashion like the bald eagle. Typical clutch size is two eggs. Nests are similar to the eagles. However, an osprey doesn’t require a

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tree for its nest. It will make use of platforms, power poles, channel markers, bridges or anything else it can find. You will often see artificial nesting platforms in areas where conservationists are working to reestablish the osprey. Incubation is 35-40 days, with fledging occurring at 7-8 weeks old. Young don’t leave their parents until fall migration. The average life span of an osprey in the wild is around 30 years. In the 50’s, ospreys were also on the endangered list due to DDT thinning the eggshells and threatening reproduction. Today they have made a complete comeback in most areas. Ospreys feed exclusively on fish. They are excellent fishermen, able to dive from heights of 30-120 feet when a fish is spotted. An osprey will catch a fish one out of every four dives spending on average about 12 minutes per catch. They plunge feet first into the water to nab their prey, and then turn the fish in mid air to face forward to be more aerodynamic for the flight back to the nest or their perch. An osprey can lift a fish weighing in excess of half its own body weight due to its long, powerful wings. Ospreys have an opposing toe that can face forward or backward. When perched they will have three toes in front and one in back. They will orient two toes on either side of their catch for flight. Unlike bald eagles, the osprey can completely submerge during its dive into the water and still be able to fly away. Bald eagles are limited to plucking fish from the surface of the water as they fly over. However, the bald eagle frequently takes the osprey’s catch as its own. Ospreys migrate as individuals to South America for the winter, returning in mid-spring to nest. Although ospreys mate for life, they migrate independently and will not see each other until the next breeding season. The fledglings are left behind when the adults migrate. A few days to several weeks later, the fledglings will leave for a winter location separate from the adults. Fledglings will stay in their winter grounds until two-years old before heading north. They don’t necessarily return to where they were born but may locate within a hundred miles of the location. Chances are they will never see their parents again. Remember bald eagles are in Louisiana from late fall until late spring. Ospreys are here from mid spring until early fall. Grab your binoculars and enjoy both!

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Creole Bagelry The Creole Bagelry has become a regular Saturday breakfast spot for my family. To many that would be no big deal, but I’ve been enjoying the pleasures of a low carb diet for the last few months while allowing myself one “feast day” each week - Saturday. It means a lot that I’ve chosen the Bagelry as my carb source almost every week.

to Slidell. Having trained in a New York bagel shop, Bernadette’s bagels were authentic enough to please interstate travellers.

salsa, lime juice, cheddar cheese and sour cream. Good stuff.

Notable: • Bagels are made fresh and tossed at the end of the day. It’s hard to write an overview of the breakfast offerings at Creole Bagelry. There are so many different bagels and spreads. One might think only a mathematician could figure out the number of combinations. I asked a mathematician - it’s 224. And though I haven’t tried the blueberry bagel with smoked salmon spread, I’m happy to know I could. The large breakfast menu includes omelets and breakfast sandwiches too. I tend to gravitate toward the “everything” bagel with plain cream cheese - a pretty tame choice. I like what I like.

• Breakfast is served all day

Lunch

• Hours from 7am - 2pm. No dinner. • Open 7 days a week

We had to make a second trip to try out the lunch. While I’ve enjoyed many of the bagels, I hadn’t tried the lunch sandwiches yet. I asked Darren for the “best thing on the menu.” He brought out the Muffa-Bagel.

• They have an extensive catering menu that includes 19 homeade soups.

It’s a traditional muffaletta on a bagel of your choice. Mine was on jalapeno. A good muffaletta is a “litmus test” food. If a restaurant can’t make a good muffaletta, you’re probably well advised to dine elsewhere rather than search for an alternative on the menu. Creole Bagelry’s muff passed the test.

So I was happy to hear that “everything” bagel was the primary reason Darren Darby (and his wife Renee) decided to buy the Bagelry two years ago. Apparently he’s eaten quite a few of them.

We tried a few more of the bagel sandwiches. The Tangy Turkey was a great flavor combination of turkey, swiss, veggies and a cranberry mustard.

Originally opened in 2004 by Bernadette and Dominic Lala, the Bagelry introduced a northern flavor

The Bagelry also has focaccia bread sandwiches. We tried one of the weekly specials: pineapple, pork, veggies, 15

Friday, July 25

TEMPTING THE

Story and Art by Lori Gomez

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This month, I thought I would take the mystery out of why artists charge what they do for art. After all, it’s just a little paint and a canvas right? As an Artist, one of the hardest things for me over the years was figuring out fair prices for my work. There is no manual to help with that. In fact, there really isn’t any kind of guide to help someone who wants to be an Artist understand what they are getting themselves into as far as making art their career. It’s pretty much a learn as you go situation. I’ve been at it since 2002 and I'm still learning what works and what does not. Of course, the quality of the work is key. But there are many other factors that come into play. For me, this is my fulltime

business. It’s not a 9 - 5 job and I don’t get paid by the hour. If I got paid by the hour, I’d have a lot more money! Most people look forward to the weekends to take a break from work, but most weekends are the time when Artists are working special events and shows, most of which the Artist is charged a fee for participation. And being that Art is a luxury, Artists certainly are not guaranteed a sale. Even if you make a sale or two, it usually just covers the event fee. Last year, I had the honor of being one of the Artists selected to be in Jazz Fest. While it was very exciting to finally be juried in after 4 years, most people don’t realize what is involved in participating in this festival. First, there are 3 areas that

you can apply ply for. Thiss costs co $30 for for each each h application. Then if you get in, in you have have e to pay for an occupational license - $50. The fee for the weekend is between $1200 and $1600 depending on which weekend you get in. You have to have insurance - $150. Now if you’re there for 3 days, you have to eat. You’re there from about 8 am to 9 pm, so that’s at least 2 meals a day. You’ll need a helper, so double that. Not to mention supplies! So it adds up quickly. Because they have over 100,000 people that attend each day from all over the world, it’s a great way to share your work. But does that mean you will make a ton of money? Not necessarily. Here is what you have to consider: Most people travel to come to Jazz Fest, so that

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means air fares, hotel stays, etc. Then there is the ever-rising cost to get into the festival each day for the three or four day weekend. They also have to pay for food and drinks all day. They may buy a shirt or a Jazz Fest Poster. Most fest goers go every year, so they may allow themselves to purchase one piece of Art. Considering there are a couple hundred Artists there, if you are the one they choose to buy from, it is an honor. I had some of my work go to Great Britain and Australia. I got to meet people from all over the world. It was an incredible and exhausting opportunity. Did I mention the weather? That’s a roll of the dice. It stormed every day I was there. That was a whole other set of challenges protecting your work from damage. When I first started my business, I spent most of my time actually painting. Now I spend a large majority of my time working on the computer. I run my website, which I pay for every month. I run a face book page. I have to schedule which events that I want to participate in and make sure I have the fees for them. I also document everything I paint. (That also gets expensive because of the cost of ink.) Then there are your supplies. A good Artist will use high quality paint. Most paints cost between $10 and $20 each. Canvases can cost $50 to $100 each. Some pieces can take 40 - 80 hours of time to create. Because most people can’t afford to buy original art, I’ve invested in getting prints done. That means I also have to buy packaging. There is also another kind of print called a giclee. This is when you print on canvas. Again, because the cost of ink is so expensive, the Artist pays by the square inch. Depending on the size, this can cost over a hundred dollars each. The Artist can then come back over

this kind of print and embellish it with paint. These are called embellished giclees. This is a good compromise for a purchaser if they can’t afford an original. Another thing is charity. As an Artist, I am asked to donate work on a weekly (sometimes daily) basis. I generally donate to about 20 charities a year. I simply cannot afford to donate to more than that and have to turn people down or have them pay 50% of the value of a piece. I will say this, never tell an Artist that if they donate to a charity, they will get lots of exposure. It kind of insults us. Exposure doesn’t pay for our materials or our time. Exposure doesn’t pay our bills. And finally, if an artist sells out of a shop, they have to pay a percentage of every sale to the shop. This could be anywhere from 25% - 50%. Sometimes you have to pay to rent the space; sometimes both. There was a time when I would never recommend being an Artist to anyone because it is a tough business. But over the years, I figured out a few important things. The main thing is you can’t only be an Artist. You have to also be involved in other things. For example, I write this column every month. It gives me great exposure and is part of my plan to do a cookbook that combines my love of cooking with my art. I'm also the Chairman of a group called the Cultural Economy Coalition. This is a great way for me to be involved in my community and helps me find ways to promote my business and help other people in the cultural arts. And I am an active member of The East St. Tammany Chamber of Commerce. So, there you have it. The next time you are looking at the price tag of a piece of

You can enjoy more of Lori’s art on facebook: www.facebook.com/LoriGomezArt or by visiƟng: www.LoriGomezArt.com

art, I hope you will think about what all was involved in order for an Artist to make their work available for sale. Many of you may ask why I am an Artsist. Hopefully, you will see the answer when you look at my work. Art for me is not a hobby, but a way of life. It is an outlet for me; like therapy may be for someone else. I love what I do! It has provided me with so many opportunities and introduced me to some amazing people. This month’s recipe is courtesy of some dear friends of mine, Amy and Ade. They have made this salad for several events, including our Cultural Economy Coalition meetings, and it has become an addiction for me this summer. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. I’m not going to give exact measurements, just the ingredients. I usually make a lot so that I can have it for a couple of days.

Summer Salad Fresh Spinach Whatever kind of lettuces you like with the exception being iceberg. I use a spring mix of lettuces. Cherry tomatoes sliced in half Craisins Feta cheese Tangerine segments Briannas Home Style Poppy Seed Salad Dressing First I mix the spinach and lettuces together. Then I layer the rest of the ingredients. I serve the dressing on the side. This salad is beautiful and delicious.

I welcome your feedback! If you have any recipe requests, please feel free to email me at: LoriGomezArt@charter.net

Of Your Money By Mike Rich

Pontchartrain Investment Management

Are you stressed out about your financial future? THEN DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT! (Author’s note: Lest you think that the dream I describe below is based in reality, please know this: I never, ever, missed a class in college. EVER! Yes, I was a nerd. Read on.) I have this recurring dream about college. Actually, it’s a recurring nightmare and I have it a couple of times a year. I’m 62 years old and attended college in the early 70s, but this dream still haunts me. It goes like this: I’m enrolled in four or five classes. The end of the semester is just a couple of weeks away. Incredibly, I discover that I’ve forgotten to attend one of my classes. That’s right, I forgot to

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attend a class for months. I find out that there’s a paper due, a class project, and the final exam. I don’t even know where the class meets. Of course, in this nightmare I’m in my underwear (or worse, but let’s not get into that). I’m running from building to building in a panic, but very slowly because my legs seem to be bound together at the knees and the ground feels like it’s made of Jell-O. I can’t believe what an idiot I am. I can’t find my professor, no one cares about me, and it’s really bad. Did I mention that I’m in my underwear? I don’t recall exactly how any of these dreams ended, but, when I wake up and realize that I’m not in college, haven’t missed class, am not running around campus in my underwear, and that none of that horror has actually taken place, the feeling of relief is – well, it’s delicious.

As a financial advisor, I read articles nearly every week about how people are stressed out about money: “Can I afford this house? Why is there never any money left at the end of the month? How can I possibly pay off my student loans? Will I ever be able to retire? What’s going to happen if I’m old and sick and need someone to take care of me?” The list goes on, and the stress goes up. It’s like that nightmare I keep having because I’ve left something important undone. Our money lives can be like that. We know what we should be doing with our money to plan for the future, but we don’t do it for any number of reasons, some of which are really valid: busy lives, job demands, the kid’s dance recital, whatever. That’s bad. The good news, however, is that there’s a way out. There’s a way to relieve the stress. It can be done, and it’s within easier reach than you might think. It’s called “making a plan”, and here’s how it can work for you:

Step 1. Meet with a Pontchartrain Investment Management advisor. For many folks, this is the most difficult step in the process, primarily because it requires an active decision to get started. However, here’s what Andy, Chris, Steve, Robin, and I have observed: the folks who take this first step have won half the battle. As for the meeting with us, the time commitment is minimal. Think about this: how much time did you spend planning your most recent vacation, or researching your purchase of a big screen TV, or picking your fantasy football team? More than an hour? I don’t ask for any more time than that. Here’s my deal: meet with me for 60 minutes. We can accomplish a lot in an hour. At the end of our meeting, we’ll pretty much know if it makes sense to move forward. It’s that simple, and I’ll guarantee that your stress level will notch down a bit, even if you choose to do nothing more than meet with me to find out where you stand financially.

Step 2. Set your goals. Of all the work we do with our clients, this, by far, is the most important step when it comes to relieving financial stress. When we sit down to meet, I’ll ask a lot of questions, but they all boil down to four things: what you want to accomplish, how much money you’re willing to commit to make it happen, where it’s coming from, and your timeframe. I will listen carefully to your answers, dig in deeper where needed, and encourage you to make specific goals for what you want to achieve. With that information, we can build a financial plan. Making it work will require commitment from you, but getting a plan down on paper is a great way to start.

Step 3. Protect your assets from bad stuff. Part of our planning involves finding out what risks might try to ruin things for you and how we can deal with them. I’ll review your life, disability, and long term care insurance and, if we find a hole, will tell you how to fill it. Whether you want to fill it or not is your decision. I have another recurring dream, but this one’s about the good life. I’m at the beach with my family. My four grandchildren are there. It’s a sunny 81 degrees. The Gulf water is emerald green. I’m reading a thriller novel. I’ve got a cooler next to me filled to the brim with my favorite beach beverage, “Skip and Get Naked” (aka Skips). Stress? No way. Now, be honest with yourself. Which dream would you rather have? The one with you running around in your underwear, stressed out about not having planned for the money you’ll need to enjoy life when you stop working? Or, do you want the one with you, the beach, and the Skips? Or, maybe the golf course, fishing with the grandkids, motorcycle trips to the Grand Canyon, or just a quiet afternoon after your bills have been paid and all is well for the month. Most people, frankly, choose the underwear dream, the stress dream, the dream that almost always ends badly. But, a few folks – just a few, it seems – pick the beach dream, the golf course dream, the all-of-my-bills-are-paid dream. They know they’ve got to have a plan, and they choose to do the work and commit the money to make it happen – meet with a Pontchartrain Investment Management advisor, save and invest, and protect their money from risk. It’s not magic, it’s just a decision to not leave something really important to chance. Here’s my offer: Come in for a free consultation. We’ll discuss your goals and look at your numbers. If we all agree that it’ll be good for us to work together, we’ll get started. On the other hand, if the chemistry isn’t there, or if getting to your goals is a bridge too far, I’ll give you the straight skinny, and you can decide what to do.

Either way, I’ll give you my recipe for Skips.

Securities and Advisory Services offered through LPL Financial, a Registered Investment Advisor, Member FINRA/SIPC The opinions voiced in this material are for general information only and are not intended to provide specific advice or recommendations for any individual.

The

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Storyteller Mrs. Grace’s Candle The Jimmy Goldman Story

Last week some 2,000 or 3,000 United States Marines, most of them now dead or wounded, gave the nation a name to stand beside those of Concord Bridge, the Bonhomme Richard, the Alamo, Little Bighorn, and Belleau Wood. The name was Tarawa.

was in danger. There was a war and he was a Marine. He was not her son, but the next thing to it. He needed whatever blessings from the Lord that her faith could provide. She entered the church. As always, it was open. In those days churches were never locked. On the right was a box with candles. She chose the large one. Beside the candles was a box in which to deposit money. This was not a nickel candle she had chosen, it was worth at least a quarter. She dropped fifty cents in the box as if she had a premonition that her marine would need extra protection. She then moved to the left of the altar, placed the candle, and went about the ritual of lighting it and asking the Lord’s blessings. She would tend the candle daily. There it would burn until 1946. Yes, it would flicker or go out occasionally; and maybe that is what this story is about.

~ Robert Sherrod Time Magazine War Correspondent 6 December 1943

Mr.

Frank Cusimano put his elbow on the counter and supported his head in the palm of his hand. It had been busy all day at the drug store but now there was a break. Not a soul was in the store except him and his wife, Grace. Grace had hoped for this moment all day, and if it had not happened, a slow time that is, she would have done it anyway. That is the way she was. She was determined, headstrong, driven by purpose - and Mr. Frank knew on this day she had a purpose. It was August 1942. The drug store clientele had changed. Gone were many of the young men that at one time crowded the soda fountain. They were gone - gone to war. Present were older men, not much older, but older by a few years. They were Coast Guard or Navy men, who were in town to oversee the shipbuilding

just underway at Canulette Shipyard. The local shipbuilding was also a product of the war. Mrs. Grace did not say when she would return and Mr. Frank did not ask. She would come back when she came back. He knew where she was going and why. She was going to Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Church, less than two blocks away. Why was she going? She was going to light a candle, a candle for him. He

In 1956, I saw a movie named “To Hell and Back”. It was a true story based on the life of one of America’s most celebrated WWII heroes, Audie Murphy. This was little more than ten years after the war ended and, on that day, the movie was crowded with veterans of that war. Some could not emotionally take the drama displayed on the screen. Some left midway through the movie, visibly shaken.

I now realize that they had come to see something that many of them had participated in. That would be “The War”. I now realize that prior to “The War,” many of them had never been more than thirty miles from home. I realize now that they were taken from their protected part of the world, sent to combat training, and inserted into foreign lands of hostility. Lands whose names they had never heard before but, from that point forward, would be household words in the minds and hearts of Americans. Those names would be, amongst others: Iwo Jima, Okinawa, Saipan, Normandy and Tarawa.

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Then the movie started. I like the way that old movies do not take long to get into the action. That day I saw a Hollywood rendition of what the battlefield was like. It was complete with tanks, machine guns, lots of hand grenades and, of course, death. I thought about that movie for years. As I began to read and see documentaries of actual footage of the war, I realized that this action in “To Hell and Back” was not an over-dramatization. I realized that in a battle or an invasion, nothing goes as scripted. It is not like a football play drawn on the chalk board. The tailback cannot always run between the guard and tackle, the two spot. In battle, there may be a plan; but it changes - minute by minute, bullet by bullet, bomb by bomb, and fallen buddy by fallen buddy. These changes are when heroes are born; men or women who seize the moment. It is my opinion that these types don’t preplan to be a hero. It just seems they are in the right place at the right time - or more appropriately - in the wrong place at the right time. This story is about such a moment and such a hero. His name is Jimmy Goldman, first Private and then Sergeant Jimmy Goldman, the recipient of Mrs. Grace’s candle blessing.

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Heroes come from unlikely places. None could be more unlikely than the origins of Jimmy Goldman. That is not necessarily a true statement because we know very little about his origins. The story of his birth, adoption, and potentially troubled youth could be another story that space does not permit. There are some things we know, however, that are worthy of mentioning. My brief synopsis of Jimmy’s birthright and younger years should not be taken as genealogical gospel. That in itself is part of the mystery, the mystique that makes this story even more interesting. An in-depth account of his early background would be the basis of another story, most likely written by someone else.

Aug

Jimmy was born in 1920. He was adopted by Walter Goldman in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. Walter’s family was prominent in New Orleans and, by 1905, Walter was established in that city and held important positions in civic affairs as well as the Jewish community. His business prospered. We have no information on Jimmy’s adoptive mother. In the late 1920’s, at the dawn of the Great Depression, Walter’s finances most likely began to tumble. Jimmy would have been just a child at that time. Being raised in a Jewish household, at a very young age he was christened into the Catholic faith. His family also held large Christmas celebrations, with Christmas trees and an abundance of gifts. This may seem strange, but those familiar with the Jewish Community in New Orleans at that time tell me that, in the Reform Jewish Movement, this would have not been unusual. It appears Jimmy had an indulged life, but only early on. By the mid 1930’s, Walter married his housekeeper, Stella Leblanc, and held a number of jobs that appear to be political appointments. Jimmy would establish a pattern at that time of running from conflict. I must point out, I said running from conflict - not running from combat. Nothing could be more untrue than that, as you will find out. For exact reasons unknown, probably around the tenth grade,

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Jimmy left the family home and moved to Lacombe, Louisiana to live with family friends. He hitchhiked to Slidell each day to attend Slidell High School. It is believed that he attended for two years, which would be the school years of 1937-38 and 193839, graduating in 1939. He played both football and baseball, the latter being his favorite, which would be important to him the rest of his life. Probably in the summer of 1939, after graduating from high school, conflict arose between Jimmy and the family he lived with in Lacombe. Again Jimmy left. One night, a young man named Jimmy Levy ran into him at Spence’s Restaurant and Bar. Slidellians would later know this as Bosco’s. It is believed, and I feel certain, they were high school friends. On finding out that Jimmy had no place to live, Jimmy Levy invited him to his house. Jimmy Levy’s brother, Noel, remembers it well. Noel was eight years old at the time and said his brother came in and told the family that this was his friend and he would be living with them for a while. He gave no additional explanation.

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We know based on the 1940 census that he did live with the Levy family on Second Street and was a clerk at Cusimano’s Drugstore. That would be the one owned by Mr. Frank and his wife Mrs. Grace. We know that Mr. and Mrs. Cusimano became very attached to Jimmy. Mr. Frank shared the same passion for baseball as did Jimmy. Based on Jimmy’s personality, it is likely, but not known, that he had occasional conflict with the Levy’s, as he possibly had with his family in New Orleans, and the one in Lacombe. It could be that he felt that he was an imposition and just left to give them some space. I am told he would leave for a few days and come back. It is probable that he spent some time at the Cusimano home, and at the home of another friend, J.W. Decker. He would return after a few days, and to this day, the Levy family holds him in high esteem. Jimmy Goldman was a handsome young man, athletic and interesting. As always, young women seem to be attracted to the aloof, James Dean type guy. Whatever her attraction was, Jimmy had a rather serious girlfriend. His girlfriend was named Beverly Coates, but Jimmy could not help but secretly admire one of Slidell’s most beautiful women, Gloria Lamarque. Jimmy’s personality may have been complex, but he put great emphasis on loyal friendship. Though he secretly had an interest in Gloria, she was dating one of his best friends, Billy. In other words, any future with her was out of the question. Beverly was also a beautiful young lady and, within a short time, the relationship developed into a serious one. Billy and Gloria, and Jimmy and Beverly, often double dated. I suppose his intentions were to marry Beverly at some time in the not-so-distant future; but events happening half a world away would prevent that.

Day of Infamy As a sports fan, on that Sunday, December 7, 1941 it is possible that Jimmy was at the Levy home with his friend, listening to the football game of the day. The Brooklyn Dodgers were playing the New York Giants. The radio crackled: “Tuffy Leemans runs right and is tackled by Bruiser Kinard at the 27 yard line…”, then the radio went silent for a few seconds. “We interrupt this program to inform you that the White House has just announced that the Japanese have bombed Pearl Harbor.” Roosevelt’s Day of Infamy speech would occur the next day and, with that, Jimmy Goldman’s life would never be the same. Twenty-nine days later, on January 6, 1942, Jimmy Goldman 24

became Private Jimmy Goldman, a new enlistee in the United States Marine Corp.

SAVE THE DATE !

Plan for the Pacific The tactic of the U.S. Military was to reclaim or claim strategically located Japanese occupied islands in the Pacific. From the very beginning of the war, they knew that an eventual invasion of Japan was a probability. Their intent was to take only the islands they needed for strategic purposes. The need could be for landing strips, launch sites, fuel storage or to just keep the Japanese from using them for the same purposes. They did not need every island, just a few. If they could cut off the Japanese supply lines, they could starve them out. They called the process island hopping. One of the first to be claimed was Guadalcanal. The task of securing the island would fall to the 3rd Battalion, 2nd Marine Regiment, 2nd Marine Division. Jimmy was assigned to that group and was a member of I company, 3rd platoon. Jimmy’s assigned weapon was a BAR. This is slang military nomenclature for a 30 caliber Browning Automatic Rifle. It was a rapid fire weapon introduced in WWI and stayed in the U.S. military inventory until the early years of Viet Nam. The enemy feared this weapon. It is said that the average life of a soldier with a BAR in battle was less than thirty minutes. Let me forewarn you - Jimmy beat those odds, and beat them time and time again. Jimmy was wounded on this invasion. It was a rather serious gunshot wound and would be one of at least five wounds he would receive over the next three years. He was now an experienced Marine. He had seen death and he had seen victory. Who knows what Jimmy felt after this first encounter with the enemy, but he would never look back. He may have run from conflict, but he would run toward combat. This first wound occurred on August 7, 1942. It is not known if Mrs. Grace’s candle extinguished that day; but it is said that every time it went out, she felt Jimmy was in trouble. Not yet known to anyone, a hero was in the making. He just needed a stage for the show. It would soon come.

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Guadalcanal had been a success of sorts; but that invasion did not encounter a strongly fortified beach, and the military brass knew that future amphibious landings would be more difficult. They knew many of the hazards, but some they were yet to learn. Some historians say that the battle of Tarawa, in the Gilbert Islands, was to be a training exercise. Others debate that, but there is no doubt that mistakes were made and things were learned.

The plan would be to send a large contingency of Marines onto the island, but only after the island was made safe. The Navy would bombard the island with large shells and explosives until there was virtually little resistance remaining. Just for good measure, U.S. planes would then bomb the island just prior to the invasion. Some of the officers even told the men it would be a cake walk. The Japanese commander was telling his men that it would take a million men a hundred years to take the island. Both would be wrong. Making a long story short, many of the Navy rounds landed on the other side of the island, harmlessly in the Pacific. The island was only 2400 feet wide at its widest point. The island was also very flat, averaging four feet in elevation above sea level and, with fortified defenses, only ten feet. The result was that many of the rounds bounced off the island, similar to skipping a rock on

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the surface of a pond. To add insult to injury, the cessation of the fleet's bombardment stopped too early and the bombing from the planes came too late. This delayed the invasion and gave the enemy the chance to regroup. The latter part of this maneuver was taking place as the Marines were making their way to shore in plywood bottomed Higgins boats and amphibious track vehicles referred to as Gators. To the layman, a Gator would look similar to a tank propelled by tracks, much like a bulldozer. Now for the biggest blunder of all. Those in charge had miscalculated the tide. Being close to the equator, tides at best are unpredictable; but this tide would be most unusual. It would be 43 years before meteorologists and oceanographers would solve the mystery. It was a “laggard” tide. One that almost never occurs, but it occurred on November 20, 1943, D-Day for Tarawa. That mistake alone would cost the lives of hundreds of Marines. As the Higgins boats and Gators approached the beach, there was very little water covering the reef surrounding the island. Higgins boat after Higgins boat hit the reef, just to have their bottoms ripped apart, as if they were being eaten by the jaws of a large shark. Most of the Gators were able to climb over the reef. From the sinking Higgins boats, the men entered the water, some 1500 feet from shore. Wading to shore with water to their necks was their only option. They were sitting ducks. Hundreds were killed before ever firing a shot. It could best be described as chaos. Control was lost, units were split up and, for a while, the

Marines would attach themselves to any group of friendlies they could find. Jimmy Goldman went over the side of the Gator as it touched the beach at a point near the northwestern part of the island. His commanding officer was immediately shot in the forehead and killed as he dropped over the side of his Gator. As Eric Hammel wrote in his book, Bloody Tarawa, “Some men went left, some men went right. Jimmy Goldman went straight ahead. Jimmy would fight this war alone”. The Japanese had erected a significantly high seawall made of coconut logs. It became another obstacle to the landing. Men that tried to scale the wall were shot like flies. Jimmy bided his time until he found a very small opening in the seawall. He attempted to squeeze himself through the opening but his pack and weapon became entangled. He tossed his pack and weapon through the opening and finally made it safely to the other side. To his dismay, his BAR was clogged with wet sand. It had to be cleaned. Finding cover in a shell crater, he disassembled the rifle and, during the reassembly, a shell exploded at the edge of his cover. Parts of the rifle were blown here and there. He searched the sand and found all the parts, except one necessary piece. Often in war, one man’s sacrifice becomes another’s salvation; and for Jimmy, it came in the form of a dead Marine, just yards away from his location. He could see he had a BAR. Something in Jimmy’s subconscious told him not to leave a fellow Marine, even a dead one, without his weapon. Jimmy only took the part he needed, returning the rifle to the body of its deceased owner.

It was time to move out. He had an objective. That objective may not be as clear as it had been, or at least it would not be carried out as planned. Even though the battlefield was swarming with people, Jimmy was alone. He knew he had to move forward. There was the enemy, and every one of them had to be silenced. He had to get his share and he knew he may not live long enough to finish. He had crossed the point of reality. It is said there comes a point in battle where a soldier does not fear the pain of dying. He fears death, but not dying. He fears the sadness of the leaving and the hurt to those he leaves behind. He had only gone a few hundred yards and he noticed a dead Marine. There was not enough of him left to recognize, but he saw the ring. It was one of his closest friends. He had to move on. He would grieve later if he had time, but not now. Jimmy made his way to a ravine that appeared to be safe. He needed rest so he settled down for a few minutes. A fellow marine was desperately seeking safety. Jimmy motioned him in. What are the chances it would be a fellow Slidellian named Warren Frederick? They chatted about news from home and soon it was time to move out. Warren had only traversed a few yards and then the bullet struck him. Later, Jimmy would take cover with another Marine in a relatively safe shelter. Water was a commodity, and they were low. The other Marine decided to sneak out to get the canteen from a deceased comrade. Again, Jimmy would see death. This time, it was not in him to grieve. The military was able to land a number of small tanks on the island. They were of the Sherman variety. On the rear of the tank was the radio equipment. Firing instructions for the tank driver and gunner were transmitted by a radioman to the tank radio and then passed through the headphones to the driver and gunner. Visibility inside the tank was very limited. The firing instructions may have been something like, “Target at 2 o’clock, one hundred yards”. The Japanese knew that if they could destroy the radio, they could almost eliminate the effectiveness of the tank. Radios became a prime target. To overcome this, Marines were commanded to ride on the exterior of the tank and yell commands to the tank driver and gunner. Their life expectancy was almost a matter of seconds, and not more than minutes. As soon as one was killed or wounded, another Marine was ordered to take his place.

View of the beach of Betio Island, Tarawa Atoll, Gilbert Islands, after the U.S. invasion in November 1943. This image is part of a scrapbook assembled by Lieutenant Commander Francis N. Gilreath during World War II. 26

Jimmy volunteered. It is said he volunteered because the man ordered to do it had a wife and family. Jimmy told him that he did not, and he jumped on. It was obvious that Jimmy had no fear. Maybe he had seen too much death and just did not

care. Maybe I have seen too many war movies; but I can picture him standing on that tank, exploding bullets all around, small arms fire ricocheting from the steel sides of the tank.

and then in Ocean Side, California. While in Ocean Side, a fortuitous life-changing event occurred. He ran into his hometown friend and future baseball star, Floyd Fogg.

There Jimmy stands, oblivious to danger, in essence saying, “Kill me if you thank you can, you SOBs, but I will get my share of you first.”

Sometime during the war, Jimmy had received a Dear John letter from his girlfriend Beverly. She had fallen in love with a member of the Coast Guard overseeing the construction of the ships being built at Canulette Shipyard. Where Jimmy was and the time and how he reacted to this news is not known.

For over thirty minutes, Jimmy held this position and, finally, the enemy was abated. After four days, 76 hours to be exact, only 17 Japanese walked off the island alive. For his valor on Tarawa, Jimmy would eventually receive the Navy Cross. That is the second highest honor that our military awards next to the Congressional Medal of Honor. He would also be awarded the Distinguished Service Medal. This is the highest award the British give to a non-Brit. He was wounded again, and that would not be the last time. Mrs. Grace’s candle would flicker or go out at least three more times. About seven months later, Jimmy was fighting in Saipan. Saipan was strategically located, as that island and a nearby island named Tinian would be of paramount importance for the invasion. Again, Mrs. Grace’s candle may have flickered as Jimmy was wounded on July 3, 1944. The candle may have only burned for four days, as he was wounded again on July 7, 1944. This wound was more serious and, in future years, it would cause him much discomfort. Being twice wounded within a month, Sergeant Goldman willed himself to participate in the battle of Tinian. In just over a year, Tinian would be the site where the atomic bomb would be staged and loaded onto the Enola Gay; in essence, ending the hostilities with Japan. Tinian was Jimmy’s last combat. In battle, you don’t win medals like you do in a track meet. You are awarded them. It is known that Jimmy earned the Navy Cross, at least five Purple Hearts, the Bronze Star with Valor, the British Distinguished Service Medal, and the Good Conduct Medal. It is said he would have received the Congressional Medal of Honor had it not been for the sponsoring officer being killed on Saipan. It is known that he spent much of 1945 in hospitals, one of which was in New Orleans,

handsome couple in Slidell. They raised two daughters, Kathy and Cindy. Jimmy did not talk about the war. His daughters did not know he was a hero until they were teenagers, and they did not hear it from him. Until this day, they are unable to give much

Jimmy was at Ocean Side recuperating from the wound he most probably received at Saipan. He had a brief period of paralysis but slowly was regaining motor control. He would never totally overcome that injury. Floyd was recovering from wounds he had received at Iwo Jima. Unlike Jimmy, Floyd had deep family roots in Slidell and they had kept him abreast of all the happenings. Floyd knew of Jimmy’s onetime interest in Gloria. He also knew that her boyfriend Billy was no longer in the picture. Realizing Jimmy was hesitant; Floyd actually placed a call to Gloria, making Jimmy talk to her on the phone. On January 8, 1946, having been in service four years and two days, Sergeant Goldman was discharged in San Diego, California. If Jimmy had a home, it was Slidell, and that is where he went. He most likely went to the Levy home, but his friend Jimmy was no longer there. There was no reason for him to stay. He went to the bus station. No one knows where he was going. Maybe he was just going to catch the first bus out, regardless of its direction. It was not to be. Someone told Mr. Frank Cusimano that Jimmy was at the bus station. It did not take much persuasion from Mrs. Grace and soon Mr. Frank was on his way. He brought Jimmy home with him, building an addition to his drug store for Jimmy to live. In a short time, Jimmy moved into the Cusimano home as a son. It would be a relationship that would be like father and son for the next thirty-four years. Eventually Jimmy graduated from pharmacy school and took his place in the drugstore working side by side with Mr. Frank. Mrs. Grace was at the counter, counting the pennies and feeling that her candle at least had something to do with his safe return. Of course Jimmy and Gloria married. It was meant to be. It is said they were the most

Photo courtesy of Slidell Museum as it appears in the upcoming book "Images of America (Slidell)" by Bonnie Vanney due for release August 2014

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information about his brave actions and daring conquests. Instead, Jimmy turned his attention to providing for his family and wanting to keep them as close to him as possible. He had lost too much. Never did he want to lose anyone again. Kathy and Cindy tell me that he was a most generous man. This is echoed by all who knew him. It is said he gave away almost as many drugs as he sold, to those that could not pay. His daughters tell me the war made him a better, more attentive father. He never wanted them to grow up and move away. Again, he had already lost too many relationships on the battlefield and elsewhere. Beverly, his girlfriend from before the war, said, “A generous gentleman he was. In the months we dated, he gave me a sapphire ring, a white angora sweater, and a cedar chest. Yes, we would have most likely married had he not gone to war. I saw him once after he returned. I was chaperoned of course, in the presence of my aunt and others because I was married by then. I was glad to see him and know that he was alive and well. He just wanted to make sure I was OK. I knew Gloria would be good for him.” When Eric Hammel was researching his book, Jimmy wrote a letter to him that said, “My reward in life is that someday I will be with my friends I left in battle.” Sergeant Goldman did not totally escape the scars of his battles. He suffered physically from the pain, and to some degree emotionally from the memories. In 1968, he was forced to retire due to ill health. In 1980, not long after his beautiful Gloria died, he too passed away.

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Today, Sergeant Goldman is still on duty. He is interred in the first crypt, just inside the north door of the Forest Lawn Mausoleum. There in death he guards the vessels of the soul - just as he guarded the freedom of the living

Reflections ~ “Daddy took us on a two week vacation every year. One week to the beach because that is what we liked, and one week to the mountains because that is what he liked. You know, Daddy never liked the beach. I now understand why.” ~ Cindy Goldman Taylor “I think the war finally taught Daddy humility. He went from being an overindulged child and rebellious teenager, to being a warrior surrounded by slaughter and destruction. Daddy learned the value of life by getting too near the finality of death. To my knowledge, after the war, he never again picked up a firearm. One poignant childhood memory was of the day he decided to take up fishing. After his first outing, he gave away all of his newly acquired gear. Daddy couldn’t stand to see the fish bleed when he removed the hook from its mouth.” ~ Kathy Goldman Devitt

Afterword ~ I did not want this story to end. I wanted to research every last bit of information I could acquire on this man. I do not have the time, nor does the space allotted me in Slidell Magazine allow. Someday maybe someone will write his biography. It is at least thirty years overdue. I have reams of notes I did not reveal in this story which I will donate. 28

Jimmy Goldman would have told you that the real heroes were the ones that did not come home, like Warren Frederick, or the ones that did not return with a box of medals, but returned in a box. Let us honor them. Let us honor the heroes of WWII, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan and all the wars in which American men and women have fought and died. They did not have to die or be awarded medals to be heroes.

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Acknowledgements ~ I would like to express my sincere thanks to those who gave me their precious time. Foremost would be Jimmy's daughters, Cindy Taylor and Kathy Devitt. They provided letters, family history, photographs, his medals, and human insight into a man I never knew. Also to Floyd Fogg, whose memories of both the war and Jimmy’s romance with Gloria were still vivid in his mind. I was touched at the respect and love Floyd still holds for Jimmy, both as a friend and a fellow Marine. To Noel Levy, whose brother, Jimmy Levy, was responsible for housing Jimmy in his troubled years. Noel tied pieces of the puzzle together that no one knew. To Frank Cusimano Jr., who did not have any idea I would use it, but gave me the idea to name the story after his mother, Mrs. Grace Canulette Cusimano. The story you have just read is true. With literary privilege, the story of Mrs. Grace's candles is true also. To Beverly Coats Patterson, who was most likely Jimmy's first love. She now lives in Birmingham and enjoyed a long happy marriage to the Coast Guardsman she met, named Ted Patterson. She talked openly about the times she shared with Jimmy some seventy-four years ago.

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To Slidell City Councilman Warren Crockett, who is named after his uncle Warren Frederick, the Slidell Marine Jimmy met on Tarawa. Warren still has his uncle's possessions, as they were sent back to the family by the military. The dollar bills are still in the billfold. There is a monument to Warren Frederick's memory in Slidell’s Greenwood Cemetery, but his body was never repatriated. To the book by Eric Hammel, Bloody Tarawa. This book should be read by anyone interested in learning more about the battle and the brave men who fought it. There is a great deal of information about Jimmy Goldman, much of it used in this story. Bloody Tarawa is a later edition of his previous book, 76 Hours, but the latter has hundreds of photographs. Finally, to a Marine who asked to remain nameless. He encouraged me to write this story. He was my advisor on technical things about the Marine Corp, the terminology and the battles. In some ways, Jimmy Goldman was his mentor.

 John Case July 2014 29

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Sports stories comprise some of the most awe-inspiring and heart-wrenching tales in human history. At the center and soul of these stories are our desire for competition and how we respond to adversity. These stories can teach us about human nature, and show us what makes even the most ordinary of us extraordinary. Louisiana is no stranger to these stories and their impact on our athletes. In fact, many of Slidell’s young have been hearing a truly inspiring sports story, courtesy of Walter Ryan Adams - a baseball coach, high school teacher, Bogalusa-native, and inspiration. Ryan has endured much tragedy in his short life thus far. As a baseball player and high school student at St. Paul’s, he experienced losing a fellow teammate, a mentor, and a childhood friend - all life-changing losses. High school studentss are in the midst of trying to find d themselves, discover what kind d of adults they want to be, and nd make long-lasting memories. Ryan, however, was struggling to find normalcy as he tried to make sense of all of these circumstances. From these tragedies, he found his drive, his focus, and excelled in a way he felt he wasn’t able to before. He came to grips with the departures of his friends and colleagues, and found peace through his greatest passion, baseball. Ryan’s story is an incredible one. In his twenties, he progressed in his teaching career, became a successful baseball coach, and even penned a novel. Ryan’s 30

book, To Be the King of Diamonds, is a treasure for small Slidell. I encourage you to pick up a copy and read the 100 pages, front to back, with a box of tissues and a heart of hope and optimism. As you read his book, you begin to make a connection to his shy personality and admire his dedication. The more you read, however, the harsher his realities become. For a teen already dealing with the anxieties of making and playing for

several baseball teams, trying to make friends at a new school, and balancing his life in Bogalusa with his school life at St. Paul’s, the loss of three influential people is devastating. But, he begins to realize that these real-life events are so much more than anything he was nervous about on the baseball field. He comes to terms with that thing that we so often lose sight of - perspective. Almost by accident, Ryan did something incredible. In the light of all of his loss and confusion, Ryan thrived. As he did better at baseball, and as his high

school years came to a close, he was able to come to peace with each tragedy in his own way. Without giving away any more of the story, Ryan found serenity on the baseball diamond. Before you think this is another sports book, know that this book is about so much more than baseball. This is a story that we all have seen or experienced; something that we can relate to. Ryan hopes that releasing his book will help us all learn from his experiences. This sentiment is something that is reflected in his calling, som teaching. Whether he’s teaching the teac students in the classroom, players on the stu eld, or the audience at one of his many fie public speeches – Ryan is passionate pu about teaching. I had the privilege of ab speaking to Ryan about his story and s his h book, and learned so much from him. About his now-public speeches, h Ryan says, “The interesting thing about this story is that my parents and my friends never grasped the gravity of it. No one around me really knew. In fact, since I have been telling this story, my students actually knew more about me than my m family did.” By telling the story to his students, he has been able to use his story to teach and, in turn, his students have helped Ryan learn more about himself. He describes his thought process as he spoke to the families of the people he wrote about, the ones that gave him inspiration. I asked Ryan what was the most challenging part of writing this story. “I didn’t want to offend the people who knew Scott Dottolo, Mr. Terry, and Brett Baughman.” He didn’t want them to feel that their loss meant more to him than it did to them. During his discussion with Scott’s

mother, Mrs. Kathy, he told her, “I don’t know why I’m doing this.” She responded, simply, that he was meant to do this. As you read Ryan’s story, you will see how true that is. You will feel his passion and the respect he gives to each of the families. You can also feel the strength of his faith. “I don’t believe in coincidences,” he told me. “From Scott, from Brett, to Mr. Terry, to my students - the ones in the book and the ones I’ve taught since - angels have been directing me and showing me what to do.” Of course, another hard part of writing this story was that he had to share so much about himself. And there were many times when Ryan found himself in a dark place. He admits that telling his parents he contemplated suicide was “a hard thing”. And though he has overcome many of his insecurities, describing those to others can be hard to do. Revealing so much about himself took a lot of humility, and a lot of courage. Ryan is able to share his

experiences with students, parents, and all of us because he wants to give people hope and show them they are not alone. “The story isn’t dated; it doesn’t get old. Alone is something all high school kids feel.” One of my favorite parts of the book is on the last few pages where he has included letters from former students. As you read the letters, you will understand just how influential and relatable Ryan’s story is to kids. Kids just want to fit in and find their way. Each of the letters has a great story of how “Coach Adams” gave them comfort and impacted their life in some way.

Through this inspiring tale, we realize that the insecurities we feel about ourselves are something that we can overcome. Ryan’s story gives us reason to grow, to remember what we lost, and discover something more about ourselves. It’s about the influence we have on the people around us and their influence on us. It’s about how we use the experiences in our lives to teach others. And it’s about how sports stories are so much more than “sports” stories. It is about society, about humanity, and how to overcome obstacles, on and off the field. Ryan wouldn’t want it any other way.

Ryan believes that his book will become a movie and he has spoken with film studios. But his primary goal is that the story reaches as many people as possible. Being a teacher, he enjoys the opportunity to show others his story and see how they can learn from it.

Ryan is a great speaker and enjoys sharing his story. For this or any other inquiries about the book, email him at TBTKOD@gmail.com or find him on Twitter @wryadams. Copies of To Be the King of Diamonds are available through Amazon.com.

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Summer Loving... Had me a blast Readers of this column may remember last summer’s family vacation to Orange Beach, and my letter to my niece, Shelby Rose, that appeared in that writing. This month, please let me share with you this year’s treasured experiences, in the hope that you can relate to my journey… My big, loud Italian family took over Summer House at Orange Beach for the first week of June, making memories and enjoying 2014’s episodes of firsts, lasts and always. For neigh onto fifteen years, various members of the clan make the trip, always coordinated by my brother, Joe DiGiovanni. God Bless anyone who takes on the role of planning how many bedrooms, how much food, who’s coming

and going, directions, parking passes, who rooms with whom, and the myriads of details that go along with a week’s stay at the beach. My sister, Judy Cook, booked our condo adjacent to Joe’s two condos, and my Mom and I shared this temporary home with the Cook extended family. Gavin and Brady, my nephews, provided our daily entertainment. I’d forgotten how much energy little boys have; kudos to their parents Angie and Henry for bringing these delightful boys into my life! If you’ve ever doubted why the natural order of things is that babies are born to young people, and not older ones like me, look up “enthusiasm” or “energy” in the dictionary. I’m sure you’ll see photos of Gavin and Brady. But the good thing is that enthusiasm and energy are contagious, as are the smiles and laughter of my nephews. Say “let’s go to the pool” to one of them, and be prepared to laugh for hours. Nothing, absolutely nothing, is sweeter than watching my Mom watch her kids play with her grandkids and great grandkids in the pool. Shelby Rose, my niece Katie Jo’s little girl, took her first tentative steps at Orange Beach last year. This year, she ran after her cousins, and for the first time Gavin, Brady and Shelby ruled the earth together.

story by Rose Marie Sand

Another “first” of this year’s trip included packing portable oxygen tanks for my Mom. Yet even the tether of that apparatus couldn’t stop her; have oxygen, will travel. She went shopping, enjoyed grilled oysters at our favorite restaurant, and relished the Gulf Breezes like a pro. Then again, NOTHING stops my Mom. Chalk that fact up to the “always” category of life. Another “always” on vacation is good food; my nephew Corey (Jockularity writer) makes his famous Beer Bread every year. This year, he made an extra loaf for my condo – thank you very much for those extra pounds, Co! It’s an easy recipe that I will never make because I eat the whole loaf. Here’s the recipe: Ingredients: 1 (12 fluid ounce) can or bottle beer 3 cups self-rising flour 3 tablespoons white sugar 1.

In a large bowl, mix together the sugar and flour.

Add beer and continue to mix.

Batter will be sticky so if you want to use your hands, a good tip is to flour them first.

Pour into a 9 x 5 inch greased loaf pan.

Bake at 350 degrees F for 50-60 minutes. The top will be crunchy, and the insides will be soft.

And while we’re on the subject of food – Corey’s wife, Amy, studied the ingredients of the delicious tapenade that’s served before the grilled oysters at Villagio’s restaurant. The waiter named Calamata olives, anchovies, olive oil, capers, parm cheese, and something else I forget, as ingredients. I knew I’d never cook that either but Amy promises to make it for me soon. Amy, are you reading this? Here’s another “first” I was excited about – I drove my new-to-me convertible to the beach this year! Yes, the day we left was constant rain and I pulled over four times to put the top either up or down, but still. My nephew Jeff drove and I got to play with the buttons on the dash for the first time; I had no idea Sirius radio had so many comedy channels. And when I drove Brady to dinner one night – his first convertible ride – we made a memory I don’t think he’ll ever forget. Ah, the family memories we make on vacation…another cherished one for me is a lunch my sister, Judy, and I shared. Even though we live near one another, we rarely get time alone for just sister talk. So one afternoon, I took her to my favorite art galleries in Orange Beach. She’s an artist, too, and we oohed and ahhed and shopped and touched everything. Then, top down in my car, we shared lunch with a view of the harbor. That afternoon was a gift. If it sounds like my memories mostly revolve around food and family, you’re right. But one night, I enjoyed some time to myself that was also a first. I went to Flora Bama Lounge, of course with the top down (of the car!), and enjoyed the Songwriter’s competition, all alone at the bar with about a hundred other people. Every year the Flora Bama seems to add a new room and new events. I’ve yet to make it there for the Mullet Toss, but I’ve always wanted to go for the Songwriter’s competition. Every Monday night for six weeks, there’s an open mike for aspiring songwriters to showcase their work. The audience gets to vote on their favorite in a “listening environment” of the Main Room… which is unusually quiet in this raucous building. I had a couple of beers, talked to the locals, cast my vote, and enjoyed a luscious night ride back in my open car that rejuvenated my soul. My favorite line of the night was from an upbeat song that proclaimed “if you’re gonna rise, you might as well shine.” And shine we did, all twelve members of my extended family. Through a storm that drove everyone off the beach and into

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the condo to play Canasta and Scategories. Through silly arguments and sillier jokes. Through children’s tired tears and their parent’s tired-er moments. Through it all, my family shines and makes it all worth it. So much so, in fact, that my brother has already issued a Facebook invitation for next year’s vacation. And I’m delighted that the first to respond is my son, Clint. As he lives in Boston and hasn’t been able to make a family beach trip for years, I’m over-the-moon with joy and anticipation. And my sister, Dottie, and her family might join us, too…what a year that will be. Orange Beach, be prepared!

Grocery Store Tour

Do you buy groceries based on commercials or store ads?

In fact, with more f a m i l y m e m b e r s coming, if you check that dictionary for enthusiasm, you just may see my picture next to Brady and Gavin’s.

Are you seeking to eat “healthier” but confused by all the products you see in the store?

For the last of my firsts on this beach trip, on the drive home I took Mom to Steve’s Marina Grill in Gulf port for lunch. Steve’s serves what’s hands-down the best fried green tomatoes in the world. I know this from personally tasting every fried green tomato dish there is.

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Mom had never eaten fried green tomatoes, and she loved them. Along with the watermelon margarita, gumbo and fried catfish – we are a food loving family, us DiGiovannis. I’m not one to let the good times end. So, I made reservations to take Mom to Biloxi for a stay at the Palace Casino Hotel in July. It’s the area’s only smoke free hotel, and I’m going to stock up on those portable oxygen tanks and bring Mom back to the beach for a couple of days. When I think back, and ahead, to our annual summer family vacations, I’m flooded with memories. Of my Dad making a splash in the pool. Of my husband walking along the sand till his feet blistered. Of my son and I creating synchronized swimming routines in the pool. Of a little girl finding starfish along the shore. Of every moment of every day when I can cherish these people and their love – thank you for beach memories to remind me that first, last, and always, my family endures.

Sli-Ku I go all “Star Wars” whenever I can, so let me wish everyone a happy Independence Day, or May the 4th be with you! Fireworks are a huge part of every July celebration, eliciting OOH’s and AHH’s from onlookers. Let me forewarn you - I am about to put on a pyrotechnic display of PUNS like no other previous month; a flurry like a grand finale from the very beginning. As they say, A GREAT PUN IS ITS OWN REWORD! Let’s light this fuse and launch these puns skyward. Let the oohing and ahhing…and grunting and moaning… begin!!

to cook in the kitchen. Using your oven in the summer is tantamount to using a weapon of mass convection! Well, just take part in National Grilling Month and problem solved. July 13 is National French Fries Day so throw some burgers on that grill for an iconic summer meal. Invite the neighbors and tell them to bring some cool beverages; after all, everyone needs to chip in! SNAP

What is summer? A mathematician? Summer is a state of mind. It’s “the dog days of summer.” In the winter, my dog wears a thick coat. But in the summer, he wears his coat and pants! July is Hot Dog Month, National Ice Cream Month, and National Blueberries Month. It doesn’t get any more red, white & blue than that!

Summertime is the perfect month to hit the beach! But in July, 1975 it shore wasn’t! That’s when my parents thought it would be a great idea to spend our entire summer vacation at the beach. They would’ve been right if they hadn’t taken me and my brother to see JAWS just weeks before! Sharks can be dangerous fish; make no bones about it! July 14 is International Town Crier Day. It would have been easier to be at the beach if I knew someone would warn me of danger, for crying out loud!

July brings the heat so of course it’s Air Conditioning Appreciation Days. Make sure your A/C is efficient by keeping all your ducts in a row! Often in July, it is too hot

This is the month to get your nerd on, so here’s a quick geek peak! July gives us Embrace Your Geekness Day (13th), Be a Dork Day (15th), and the mother of all celebrations

for my people…Comic-Con International in San Diego July 24-27. While attending the Comic-Con in New Orleans, I was entertained by the convention goers that were the most unconventional! Here is your nerd fact of the month: July 11 is Day of the 5 Billion. On this day in 1987, the population of the earth reached 5 billion people. It was also the first year the collective IQ for the world actually dropped. On two levels, the world became much denser!

Everyone Deserves a Massage Week takes place July 20-26. I quit going to my masseuse because she just rubbed me the wrong way! VA-VOOM National Day of the Cowboy occurs on July 26. In case you are wondering, this is NOT a Dallas Cowboys celebration. We all know how Cowboys fans are; yes, they probably celebrate this day thinking it is about them. I am a lifelong Saints fan but I had to finally break down and buy my first piece of Dallas Cowboys’ merchandise. You see, my vacuum cleaner broke and I needed to fix it. So I put a Cowboys sticker on it and now it sucks again!

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the likelihood of passing along the bad stuff, not only because diarrhea touches more surface area than regular poop, but also because dogs with diarrhea produce more feces than dogs without. Bloodsucking hookworms can cause blood loss leading to anemia, possibly severe enough to warrant a blood transfusion. Yes, they really use hooks to hold on tight to the intestinal wall. The vampire-like whipworms can cause rectal

prolapse in people, and children with heavy infections can become severely anemic and growth-retarded; in dogs, whips can cause chronic, gooey diarrhea that’s a real joy to clean (the chances of getting someone else to clean it up are slim at best. Get gloves.) Giardia is a diarrhea festival. It’s a common intestinal parasite affecting humans in North America. Summer is festival season. Roundworms can cause blindness in people, in addition to lung, heart and neurological diseases. Don’t panic, though. It’s a relative long shot, but still a real risk nonetheless, and you know how physicians react to risk: “Stop doing that.” In young animals roundworms can cause - surprise! - diarrhea, plus vomiting. Sometimes a dog will vomit moving worms of up to seven inches in length; you could review that on an endless loop in your next nightmare. You can also see the worms move in poop. In heavy infestations in dogs, roundworms can cause pneumonia while the worms migrate through lung tissue, and if there is a large worm burden, the mass of worms can obstruct the intestine. Roundworms are the most common worms found in young dogs; they are much less common in adult dogs. But in those unknown piles left lying around, you don’t know if it came from an adult dog or an adorable 14-week old puppy.

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Divorce Hurts The best way to prevent transmission to you and your pets is to regularly pick up not only your dog’s feces but piles someone else left, whether at the dog park or while walking in your neighborhood. Ready to pick up every pile you see? Go for it. It’s a public health benefit. Wash your hands with soap and water afterward. Yes, I know it’s disgusting. I know it’s not fair. No one ever said life would be fair, and that includes getting sick because some inconsiderate slob didn’t pick up his dog’s poop. Of course you don’t have to pick up other people’s dogs’ stuff, and – OMG! what did that dog eat and why does it smell so incredibly bad? Pick it up anyway. Pick it up and get rid of it the way the dog’s owner should have. We’ve all missed some piles – each and every one of us – and we’re going to miss more. We have many reasons for missing it: we were talking with someone, answering a text, the dog ran to the far end of the park where we couldn’t see her, and so on. Bottom line: if you pick up someone else’s poop, you won’t step in it later. If you don’t step in it you don’t have to clean your shoes or come into closer contact with it, exposing yourself to all those health risks in the process. Call it Poop Karma. It’s a what-goes-around-comes-around kind of thing. Anything involving picking up feces for which you are not directly responsible will get you major points. It might even make that curmudgeonly neighbor soften towards you and Spot. Good Poop Karma makes the world a healthier, cleaner, prettier place, not to mention one in which it’s nicer to go for a walk. Even if you’re utterly anal (no pun intended) retentive, and have never missed a pile in your entire lifetime (yeah, right!), be a generous person and help out the neighborhood or dog park and scoop it up anyway. Get rid of it before someone’s dog steps in it and tracks it into a home. Plus, storm water systems can carry it right into your local waterways (cold glass of tap water, anyone?) This poop-it-forward system may prevent your dog from stepping in some other dog’s deposit and coming down with something himself, or passing it to your kids, or you – which are expensive yet preventable scenarios. You don’t need to police the entire neighborhood or dog park single-handed; but you can generate a little positive karma for yourself with just a small amount of effort.

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SURVIVING SLIDELL GRAMMAR SCHOOL

Slidell by: Ronnie Dunaway

in memory of Mr. A.B. Plauche

Prelude: Do you remember where you were and what you were doing during the Vietnam War… when schools were first integrated… when JFK was assassinated… when man first walked on the moon… when Martin Luther King told us he had a dream? How about the debut of the movie Psycho, and when Ed Sullivan introduced the Beatles to America? Oh yeah, let’s not forget Woodstock and the hippies. How about when you discovered the whole country was smoking pot except you?

ell, I know exactly where I was and what I was doing (and no I was not smoking pot --that didn’t come until the mid-70’s). I was doing my seven year tenure at Slidell Grammar School under the watchful eye of Mr. A.B. Plauche (aka: Pluto). It should have been a six year tenure; but I had issues in the 2nd grade, and the wicked witch of the south for a teacher. Do you remember the horror stories about those mean Catholic nuns? Well, this teacher would make all of them look like Mother Teresa. Trust me, I’m dying to disclose her name, but I won’t because my mom would rise from her grave, and then all hell would REALLY break loose. Now that I got that off my chest, I can move on with this story:

38 38

I truly believe that the 1960’s were the most important decade I ever lived in. I think most of you would agree that it was the decade that changed our nation forever. Before I tell you about my years at Slidell Grammar, I need to talk about something else very serious that was happening in our country at the time - the Vietnam War. It scared the hell out of me. I was fascinated by the war not in a sick way, but in a concerned way. I was worried by it. I was scared that one of my brothers was going to get drafted and never come home. I even went as far as to study the method used to do the draft lottery. I just was too young to understand the war and why so many of our men were dying. Every night I’d

watch the NBC Nightly News; and state by state, they would show the death count for that day. And, every night it got higher and higher. Every once in awhile, a Slidell boy lost his life and that saddened me and compounded my worries. Once I knew my brothers were safe from being drafted, my worries lightened up a little. While writing this story, I began to appreciate my Slidell Grammar School principal, Mr. Plauche, more than ever. I now realize that he had a hand in preparing me for adulthood. It was Mr. Plauche who taught me the Pledge of Allegiance and the true meaning of it. He taught me what our flag stood for. I learned how to fold it, fly it, and properly discard

it if it ever hit the ground, and it did a couple times. As a result, the whole school participated in the flag burning ceremony. He even taught me a little a bit about our Constitution and Bill of Rights. He made sure God was part of our daily activities. I was taught that every action - good or bad - had consequences, and I experienced those consequences on a daily basis. Yes, Mr. Plauche taught me all of the above and much more. Between Mr. Plauche and the Vietnam War, I became a young but true Patriot of the USA. I might have not kept up with my class work, but I kept up with the war. Unfortunately, all of that was overshadowed by my conduct, an issue I still battle today. I knew I was less than ideal in my academics. I had trouble with multiplication tables. I always got 8x7 mixed up with 9x7 - and I still haven’t figured it out. I couldn’t spell then and I can’t spell now. I didn’t listen to anyone. I often talked in class. I always stated my opinion and that alone got me in the most trouble. I did things my way and that often caused me some grief as well. But I wasn’t all stupid; I could add and subtract quite well. I wrote nice poems and the girls liked them. I was one of the fastest readers in the building and I had a memory like an elephant. And for those speed reading tests we used to do in the gym, I was the best. This little story is really about my personal survival. Surviving Slidell Grammar School back in 1950’s and 60’s in Olde Towne was quite the experience. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t bad per se; it was just very, very different from today. Unlike today, teachers did the teaching, and parents raised the kids. It was unheard of for a parent to interfere with a teacher, and vise versa. Girls wore skirts or jumpers. Boys wore long pants with a belt and the shirt tucked in. Everyone’s hair was combed nice and neat. For me, I had enough gel in my hair to hold it down for a week. Fifty years later, I can still smell the Brylcreem. And if I ran out of it, I would use my sister’s Dippity Do. Oh my goodness, I loved that Dippity Do. We didn’t have uniforms. Instead, there was an unspoken policy on what to NOT wear. As much as I hate to say it, today’s kids (as well as today’s parents) wouldn’t last one day - much less seven years - at Slidell Grammar. Why? Because Mr. Plauche was running a school, not a baby sitting service. He was a disciplinarian with zero tolerance for bad behavior. Just because he was a small man in stature it would be a big mistake on your part if you took that as a weakness. When it came to spanking, he had a swing like Babe Ruth and he floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee. He hung that paddle in his office as if it was a gold medal he won from the Olympics. He also used to walk the halls tapping that paddle on his leg. I think he was doing that just to intimidate us. As I recall, it worked.

and he would come over and inspect your plate. If your plate was clean, he would tap you on the head with a yard stick giving you the OK to go. If I had a dollar for every time I wanted to take that yard stick and tap him on his head, I would be rich.

Going to school in the 1960’s is nothing like today. Most of us boys carried pocket knives simply because that what boys did. I never heard the term “lock down” or “time-out”. I certainly never worried about being shot by a deranged student. And nobody in their right mind would ever kidnap me - at least that’s what my mom said. And if they ever did, she said they would sure bring me back in a hurry! About the only exciting thing to ever happen was an occasional fire drill in which we were trained by Mr. Plauche to calmly walk out like little ducks. The last one out was responsible for closing the door (and guess who was often the last one out?). Day in and day out we were taught the three R’s - Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic and a little Spelling and English. Anytime you got sent to the office with a note about misbehaving, it was a guarantee that you were going to get a spanking. I can honestly say I would rather have carried a ticking time bomb in my hand than a misconduct note to Mr. Plauche. It was always a long, somber trip down the hall; which today reminds me of that movie Dead Man Walking. Since the walk was long, it gave me time to pray. I would pray that my two guardian angels were in the office, Mrs. Pritchett and Mrs. Polly, the school secretaries. For some reason, they gave me comfort. I guess they felt sorry for me. God bless them. I would also pray that Mr. Plauche wasn’t there; but that prayer always went unanswered. I don’t think there was a principal on planet earth that had policies like Mr. Plauche. He must have stayed up every night thinking of new policies. He had this rule that you couldn’t leave the lunch room unless you ate everything on your plate. That was just fine and dandy for me -- except on Fridays. I hated fish sticks, and there was no way in hell that I was going to eat spinach. The problem was Mr. Plauche would not let you go out and play until your plate was empty. Every single day he walked around that lunch room like some sort of bomb sniffing dog, just waiting for one us to mess up. He usually didn’t have to wait very long. After you finished eating, you raised your hand

Even though he was blind in one eye, the good Lord blessed him with x-ray vision in the other. I know this to be true, because how else would he have known I stuffed those fish sticks and that nasty spinach in my milk carton? When he caught me, he spanked me in the lunch room in front of all my friends and the very few teachers who actually liked me. He had me bend over on the table and he tore me up. This time he brought me to tears. Not so much for the pain, but more so because I was embarrassed. I learned a valuable lesson that day: Don’t trash your fish sticks and spinach when he’s not looking – just give them to someone else. You can believe he used me to make a statement that day. Even now, when I see a can of spinach, I think of him. Here had other unorthodox policies: If you got into a fight, he would make you and the other guy put on boxing gloves and you would spend your lunch break boxing out your frustrations. Needless to say, I became a pretty good boxer. The next policy was for the teachers, but it had a direct effect on me and many others. If you were really out of control in class, the teacher would make you drag your desk to the hall and that is where you spent the rest of the day. In other words, you were placed on death row. The damn school was built like a prison - and that’s the truth. As you entered the front door, the 1st-3rd grades were on the left hall, with 4th-6th on the right hall. Mr. Plauche’s office was centered just to the right of the front door. All he had to do was step out of his office and look in either direction for a victim. If he saw you, not even God could help you at that point. You only had two choices, and about 30 seconds to make a plan. You could either stand up, put your hands on the wall, and take it like a man… or run like hell and don’t look back. I never knew anyone that ran, but it did cross my mind a couple times. I only remember one time my mom got called to school because of my behavior. She was working at Sears and had to come on her lunch break. That didn’t help matters much. It was the early recess and my friends and I caught a couple of little green lizards. So I put them in my top pocket and brought them to class. My plan was to put the lizards on the floor and let them run around. What harm could that do? 39

Well, I think it was Susan Nobles who was sitting in front of me, reading a chapter out of some boring book. As soon as she got finished, I was to read the next chapter. All of a sudden, one of those little sap suckers jumped out of my pocket and onto Susan’s shoulder. I tried to snatch it off of her but she started screaming. Before I knew it, everybody in the last few rows was jumping and screaming. I denied knowing anything about it until my buddy told on me. At that point, I just confessed. Of course, I was sent to the office and Mr. Plauche made me wait for my mom to come. When mom got there, the look on her face said it all. Mr. Plauche made me wait in the hall while they talked. A short time later, Mom came out and said, “I will see you when you get home.” Mr. Plauche then came out and told me to go back to class; that he would leave the punishment up to the teacher. I knew something wasn’t right. No spanking!! However, the teacher made me write 1000 lines - I will not bring lizards to class. I was so happy I didn’t get spanked. When I got home, Mom did not say one word about what happened, and neither did I. A few days later, when I got home from school, I got a phone call that rattled me to the core. The lady said she was from the Louisiana Reform School and she was coming to my school in a few days to see me. She also told me I would likely be leaving Slidell Grammar and would be finishing elementary school in Baton Rouge at a reform school. As soon as she hung up, I called my mom crying and begging her not to do this to me. I promised her I would never act up in school again. For the next few days, I was an angel at school. I even did my homework. I apologized to Susan a dozen times. After a few agonizing days, Mom told me to come in the kitchen as she was about to call the reform school. I heard the lady answer the phone and mom told her I was doing better and she would hold off a little while before sending me away. When Mom hung up, I gave her a big hug and told her I would do better - and I did. Sometime after the school year ended, my mom confided in me that the lady from the reform school was none other than her coworker, Mrs. Dabdoub. Mom had set me up. Now I know why Mr. Plauche didn’t spank me and my dad didn’t kill me. It was a pretty mean thing to do, but I guess my mom finally had enough. My last year at Slidell Grammar was the best. Integration had taken place a few years earlier

and, in my last year, Slidell Grammar got its first black teacher, and I was in his class. His name was Mr. Charles Alfred. Everyone loved him. He really knew his stuff and it showed in his teachings. For the first time in years, I could say it was fun going to class. Not only did he have a talent for teaching, he had even a bigger talent - he was a basketball coach - and he was looking to put a team together. Trust me, my basketball skills were about as good as my spelling skills. I had no interest. But my friends talked me into going to the try outs. I was a pitiful sight. I couldn’t walk and dribble at the same time, let alone RUN and dribble. I couldn’t make a goal if it was in my lap. But I wasn’t alone. The whole team looked like a bunch of escapees from the circus. I know Mr. Alfred never thought like this, but it must have crossed his mind at least once: How in the hell am I going make basketball players out of these white boys? I guess he had a plan. He sure had more faith than I did. I’m pretty sure I know why I was chosen to be on the team. I was a good foot taller than the other kids. Everyday after school, we would practice in the gym. He had a way of convincing us that we could be the new City Champions. This title always belonged to Florida Avenue School. One game at a time, we beat most of the schools in the area. Our confidence was off the charts. We were pumped up and ready for the big game. It came and WE WON! For the first time in history, Slidell Grammar were the City Champions! And, for the first time, Mr. Plauche was proud of me. I know this because he told me so. Finally the time came for me to leave Slidell Grammar and enter the next chapter of my education. On the last day, I thanked Mr. Plauche and told him I was sorry for being so bad. I told Mrs. Pritchett and Mrs. Polly good bye. I told Mr. Lee good bye. He was the janitor. I visited Mrs. Evans in the cafeteria. She was so sweet. I thanked Mr. Alfred for the good man he was and I told him I would never forget him. I didn’t think that day could get any better, but it did; much better, in fact. My tenure at Slidell Grammar ended on a perfect note. Just as I walked out the door for the last time, I came face to face with the devil’s wife. Yep, the wicked witch of the south herself. All I could see was the blood in her eyes and horns on her head. I wanted to tell her something real mean but that reform school threat was still pending. So I told her something even my mom would

be proud of. I said, “Mrs. XXX, if Mr. Alfred can make basketball champions out of white boys, I’m sure he can perform an exorcism on you. God knows you need it.” Then I did something I had thought about doing many times. I ran like hell and never looked back.

Biography of Mr. Albert Bernard Plauche: Mr. Plauche was born in 1913 in Plaucheville, La. He came to Slidell in 1939, just as the old three-story Slidell Grammar was being torn down. He taught in the old Redman Hall while the current grammar school was being constructed. Mr. Plauche had a B.A. degree from Northwestern State and a Master’s degree from Loyola. On Easter Sunday 1944, he married Lois Antilly. Mr. Plauche only had vision in one eye due to a hunting accident when he was a teenager. Because of this, he was not allowed into the military. During WWII, he taught school during the day and, at night, he walked to work at Canulette Shipyard. He was also a block captain on “black-out nights” during the war days. He served with the Red Cross for forty years. He was a member of the Knights of Columbus, as well as serving as president of the Kiwanis Club. For many years, Mr. Plauche was an active leader for the Boy Scouts. Many years after his retirement, kids still went to his house to pass the requirements to receive badges. He served St. Tammany Parish School system for forty years as a teacher, coach, and principal. Mr. and Mrs. Plauche had two daughters, Melanie and Billy Mae, and both became teachers. Mrs. Plauche was also a teacher. Mr. Plauche retired on May 26, 1977. Final note: Changing Attitudes This is a quote Mr. Plauche gave the day he retired in 1977. “I am bothered by the changing attitudes on the part of the children and the parents. They are more forward and have less of a feeling of responsibility. I feel the quality of class work is inferior now to what it was years ago.” To Mrs. Billie Mae Pittman: Thank you so much for helping me with this story. Regardless of the countless spankings your dad gave me, I know in my heart it was for my own good, and I know I deserved each and every one of them. Mr. Plauche was a great principal. I will carry the memories of him and Slidell Grammar for the rest of my life. Oh, by the way - I sure would like to get my hands on that paddle. I would hang it in my office as if it was a gold medal I won from the Olympics. Sources: Billie Mae Pittman, GOSH, Slidell Museum, Bonnie Vanney

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