54th edition - January 2015

Vol 54 January 2015

The Real Men of St.Tammany

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Mona’s calling YOU! We need your participation - JOIN THE FUN!

Mona Lisa Moon Pie ®

Mona Lisa and MoonPie® is the most affordable Carnival krewe in Slidell, and we’re open for new membership! We love family involvement. We celebrate the arts, Olde Towne, and good humor. In each of the past 31 years, we have produced a witty spectacle of cleverly crafted push-floats and costumes, and brought thousands of spectators into the heart of our City.

You don’t have to be an artist to express yourself - and have a ball doing it!

MEMBERSHIP = $125 includes 3 cases of MoonPies and admission to 12th Night Party and Red Beans & Rice Street Party!

FLAMBEAU CARRIERS NEEDED! only $25 includes admission to Street Party!

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Christopher’s on Carey

(DIRECTLY FOLLOWING PARADE) Open and free to members!

Dancing in the street, drinks, red beans & rice, king cake and LOTS OF MOON PIES®!

The Krewe of Mona Lisa and MoonPie® rolls, walks, skips and dances through Olde Towne on Saturday, January 31, 2015.

The fun begins on Robert & Carey Streets at 7pm and continues throughout Olde Towne, making their way back to Christopher’s on Carey where the fun continues into the night!

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JANUARY 2015

Extraordinarily Fascinating “Ordinary” People Sponsored by

Mary Virginia Howell Christopher Story by Charlotte Lowry Collins

As

I arrived for this month’s interview, I was greeted

by Mary Christopher, my contemporary, fellow artist and art educator.

She is the one who arranged for my introduction to another Mary Christopher.

This month’s EFOP is actually her motherin-law, who happens to hold the same given name and surname. I suppose younger Mary’s husband, Joe Christopher, has a thing for women by this name. Now I see why. This month I will introduce you to the matriarch of this close family. It is a tale not only of this remarkable woman, but also of her family that is so much a part of her.

Stepping through the doorway, family photographs and memorabilia would be the first thing any of you would encounter.

It fills the tables and bookshelves, and is hung on every wall. On the near chair, there is even a throw with an almost lifesized family portrait imprinted on it. But my attention was swiftly and indelibly drawn to someone else as I moved to the far end of the room. Upon meeting the senior Mrs. Christopher, I was immediately engulfed by her energy and passion. This First Lieutenant and World War II nurse is now 92 years old, but when she keens her gaze on me, all I can envision is that sincere, brave young woman that enlisted “because she wanted to help.”

Mrs. Mary, referred to by her family as “Gram”, a.k.a. “Grambo” to her grand daughter, Eli, due to her independence, began her life hearing that making a difference is a key part of every citizen’s responsibility. This sense of responsibility guided her though all major decisions in her life.

Gram began to describe her ancestors, “I had the honor of growing up on the family homestead, and hearing the legacy of my great-grandmother. Travelling in a covered wagon in the 1830’s, my ancestors were supposed to be headed to Texas. Instead, my great-grandfather, Reece Howell, woke up one morning and couldn’t find his wife.

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Great-Grandmother Martha walked into camp a few minutes later to say she had found a beautiful spring and was staying put, or he could bring her back home to her people. This site is now known as Howell’s Cove. They were among the first white settlers in what is now Talladega County in Alabama. At the time of their arrival, however, the area was still populated by Creek Indians.”

I learned that this remarkable couple managed to befriend the locals. Gram reached to the stack of papers next to her on the couch. “Here is a copy of the land grant they were given. It was signed by Martin Van Buren,” she pointed out, “and Andrew Jackson signed another one. The grants bore the responsibility to establish a homestead and maintain the land. Martha and Reese donated some of the land for a church, Bethel Methodist, and the local cemetery. Remarkably, during the roundup of the local Indians for what became the Trail of Tears, family history tells of Reece and Martha saving some of their Indian neighbors by hiding them from the soldiers in a chifferobe in their home.” I was thrilled while speaking to Gram’s niece, Kathy Wallis, to hear that Kathy’s son still has this treasured chifferobe.

Perhaps her family heritage helps explain why Mary Virginia chose to be a nurse, and why, as a young R.N., she felt compelled to enlist in the Army Nurse Corp and enter WWII. Her niece Kathy says, “Mary Virginia is naturally a loving, caring, nurturing person, even more than any of the six siblings. She was a real trailblazer for those times.” She must have stood out in stressful situations, because she became the Chief Nurse, a Second Lieutenant, and ultimately First Lieutenant. It seemed to be a family trait, as Mary explained, “My sister was an enlisted nurse too, and at one point there were four of us siblings in WWII at once.” Then she quickly moved to the bookcase and handed me an aerial photograph of her Uncle Richard. “See, right there,” she said excitedly. “Here he is - one of 12,500 officers, doctors, nurses, and enlistees that are forming this enormous human American Eagle image with their bodies. This was at Camp Gordon, near Atlanta, Georgia in 1918 in WWI.” Her pride was obvious.

She paused reflectively for a moment, and ran her hand over the smooth wood of the handsome bar the photo was sitting on. “Isn’t this piece beautiful? My husband made it. Joe Frank Christopher and I met in my family home when my brother brought him by the house. I was in the 4th grade,

A copy of the Land Grant given to Mary’s great-grandparents in the 1830’s and signed by Martin Van Buren and he was in the 6th. When I made 18 years of age, I left by train to join my sister, Minniere, in New Orleans and trained at Baptist Hospital, where she was in Nursing.

Her real name was Minnie Rebecca. You know, we all used two names in Alabama, but hers was shortened into one name.

Anyway, Joe Frank came to visit me there while I was in training.” She laughed as she remembered, “I had an 8pm curfew.”

“Then Minniere went to Hawaii as a nurse and met her future husband, Joe Founds, who was a military photographer, and took many photos during the Japanese invasion of Pearl Harbor. I enlisted on December 23, 1943 to enter the Army Air Corps on January 15, 1944. Later I was assigned to the 134th Evacuation Hospital.”

“We sailed on the USAT Henry Gibbons and arrived in Le Havre, France on January 16, 1945,” Mary Virginia said as she pulled a yellowed booklet from her stack and handed it to me.

Mary (seated, bottom left) and her siblings circa 1926

a sleeping bag, blanket, pistol, pole tent and combat boots. At one point I also saw in the booklet that she had to be issued mosquito netting and ointment for the flies.

“I arrived in the ETO (European Theatre of Operations) right after the Battle of the Bulge. I still remember hearing the guns in the distance, and seeing the ruined cities.”

After a bit of prodding, Mrs. Mary finally began to show me photos that included her during this time. She is almost always with a group of people and in the center, as a beaming young woman in white uniform, white stockings, and the unmistakable white nurses shoes. That undaunted smile and piercing blue eyes are the first thing I see in the photos, even the ones where she is wearing the combat boots and hat. It is clear that Mary Virginia is a very gregarious person. At some point, that same smile spreads across her face

The booklet was documentation of all of her operations in the service. It listed her locations, rank, pay, equipment issued, and leave. She also brought out and modeled the green khaki wool cape that was issued to her. The first list shows she was given

A booklet attached to Mary’s enlistment certificate showing the items she was alotted throughout her service 7

as one of her twelve grandsons, Joey, walks in the room. I ask her about her friends, and she answers, “So many of them are gone.

My family and few remaining friends mean everything to me.”

As she and her grandson speak, I continue looking through the photo album. While on leave after VE (Victory in Europe) Day, Mary Virginia was able to visit Paris, and other places in Europe. Her photos include many major historical and cultural sites of interest.

When I ask her about them, she smiles and recalls, “I loved the Follies Bergere and Versailles. Even more exciting was when my brother Reece came to see me in Dinant, Belgium. It was just so wonderful to see family again,” she exclaimed with a catch in her voice.

Looking through her Army records, I can see that she was in France, Belgium, and Germany. This was how I learned that, while serving in the European Theatre, this brave nurse received two Bronze Stars, the American Theatre Ribbon, and a Victory Medal. “We didn’t even hear about how the Germans were treating the Jews until the end, but we did see some of the terrible results after it was over, and visited one of the concentration camps,” she said.

“Finally, I remember waiting in Marseille, France to go to the Pacific Theater when we were told that the Atomic Bombs had been dropped. As horrific as that was, it saved a lot of American troops. Victory in Japan was declared on September 2, 1945. So instead of going to the Pacific, I left France to return to the US on the MS Noordan two days later.”

I know she is glad the atrocities are over.

But Mary Virginia Howell was lucky to have lived to serve. She tells the story of a train accident that she only recently learned of from a fellow veteran. Her son Joe was able to find the news article for me. According to

the article, General Patton was desperate for replacements right after the Battle of the Bulge. An American General wanted to use a local train to move the incoming personnel more quickly to the front. The French were insistent that the train was unsafe. Finally, the French were forced at gunpoint to allow only the soldiers and equipment to board.

The others, including Mary Virginia and the medical personnel, would have to travel by truck convoys. Unfortunately, the train with badly needed troops never made it to the front. According to the article in the Tribune Democrat, “89 Americans died. Another 152 received permanent injuries with many losing arms and legs.” It seems the brakes were indeed worn out, and the train accelerated at alarming speed, crashed through a barrier, and landed in a pile, ten cars high in places.

So what became of this brave nurse after the War? As you would imagine, she continued to be there for those who needed her.

“After the war, I came back to work for US Public Health and help my family in Birmingham, where my parents had moved in with Mom’s sister. My dad died shortly thereafter. One memory that still bothers me from when I worked in Birmingham was how the African-American nurses were treated.

One in particular was my friend, and she wasn’t allowed to eat with me. When we traveled, she had to sit in the back of the bus. She was so sweet and intelligent. She did so much for this country, and that’s how she was treated. I didn’t expect this after all I had seen overseas. Those were bad times, and I’m glad that has changed.”

But this positive, energetic woman was never one to dwell on the negative. In order to brighten the mood, she flipped through her stack and pulled out her priceless childhood books, and then her paper dolls. One of the newer ones was of Betty Boop. “But we had a lot of happy times in that big house in Talladega. There was a huge wooden table, and on special occasions, it was just filled with food.”

“Then Joe Frank and I married on September 30, 1950, and moved to New Orleans.

Coincidentally, all three of my sons were born at Baptist Hospital, where my career began. Once Mother got sick, she moved to New Orleans and lived with us for a while so I could help her. Joe Frank and I lived on Eastern Street in Gentilly then, and our sons Barrett and Joe were born while we were there. Later we moved to Castle Manor in New Orleans East, where we were when our third son, Frank, was born. We lived there until my husband died. After that I moved to Slidell.”

8

She is happy with her full life, helping to raise a dozen grandchildren and five greatgrandchildren, so far. I can personally attest to her importance in the family, as her cell phone never stopped ringing during our second visit.

So what does this retired, decorated nurse do now, when she isn’t with family? At 92, she still bowls! Within the past year, she managed to bowl a 200+ game.

Admittedly, she now uses a lighter bowling ball, but she has managed to overcome a wrist injury, broken hip, and massive stroke, which temporarily paralyzed her entire left side and affected her speech.

Most of you would not realize she went through these injuries, because she is still going strong. Her son Barrett explained, “Luckily, she was in the hospital for an angiogram when she had the stroke and was able to receive immediate treatment.

I would categorize her recovery and return to a more than active lifestyle as a modern miracle. She still has so much energy that I can’t even keep up with her!

The greatest traits of Mom are her positive attitude and her ability to see the best in every person. Even though she may be in severe pain or things may be going poorly, she never complains. To her, everything is good.”

Did I mention that she also volunteers at Ochsner Northshore Hospital, and has earned the designation of Volunteer of the Year? Add to that her active participation with Aldersgate United Methodist Church, National Association of Retired Federal Employees, and American Association of Retired People. And don’t forget the trips with Senior Friends of New Orleans, now H2U (Health to You in Covington), and you can see why it was hard to catch up with Mrs. Mary for her inspirational story.

Mary Virginia Howell Christopher can definitely be described as a people person, where family and duty comes first. We are fortunate to have had not only this wonderful woman, but also all of those that my readers now know as “The Greatest Generation”. Her family will be forever fortified by her strong sense of responsibility, and hopefully continue her tradition. She is an inspiration to us all.

The younger Mary Christopher describes her mother-in-law as “the last to leave a party or a meeting”. I truly hope you have the pleasure to meet her at one of these events. If we all make an altruistic New Year’s wish, I hope it would be to make a difference, even if only to one person.

w

10AM - 5PM • MONDAY - FRIDAY

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INSIDE THE MARKETPLACE

Kenny Bridges

Artist SPOTLIGHT

Kenny Bridges’ work can be viewed and enjoyed not only at the mARTketPlace, but also throughout the city of Slidell. Kenny’s artistic displays include multiple large-scale public mural projects such as the historic Train Depot, the City of Slidell Public Works buildings and his amazing painted characters from over a dozen of the publicly displayed Pelicans. Inside the mARTketPlace, you’ll find his popular, handmade pirogue boats for sale, in addition to his oil and acrylic canvas paintings.

Kenny has received much recognition for his art, as well as his life story. He was honored to be named the 2014 Cover Artist for the City of Slidell Arts Evening, a National Award Winning Cultural and Arts Event.

Over 20 Artists!

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Northshore Harbor Center

Friday, January 16, 2015 7-11pm

The East St. Tammany Chamber invites you to their 2014 Annual Membership Awards and Appreciation Event, Starry Starry Nights in the East

Starry, Starry Nights in the East

Ochsner North Shore Present

East St. Tammany Chamber of Commerce and

5

12

HAPPY NEW YEAR from

Krewe of Slidellians Krewe of Claude Starts at Salmen • 1pm Real Men of St. Tammany Gala Harbor Center • 6pm

2

MON

Ambassador Meeting Sunrise Bistro • NOON

MARTIN LUTHER KING JR DAY

www.estchamber.com

TUE

Chamber ONE • 8AM Group 1 - Speckled T’s Group 2 - Summerfield

Chamber ONE • 8AM Group 1 - Speckled T’s Group 2 - Summerfield

Grand Opening Borchert Law 3:30 - 4:30pm

Chamber ONE • 8AM Group 1 - Speckled T’s Group 2 - Summerfield

Grand Opening UPS Store • 3:30 - 4:30pm

Chamber ONE • 8AM Group 1 - Speckled T’s Group 2 - Summerfield

Main Street Art Beat • 5 - 7pm Chamber mARTketPLACE

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Chamber ONE • 8AM Group 1 - Speckled T’s Group 2 - Summerfield Grand Opening Walgreen’s at SMH 3:30 - 4:30pm Main Street Art Beat • 5 - 7pm Chamber mARTketPLACE

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Health Check-Up Rsv Req’d 985-643-5678

Chamber Luncheon Sponsored by

WED

4

Salad Days Art Exhibit Cultural Center Runs Thru Feb 21

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7

Chamber ONE • 11:30AM Group 3 - Fox’s Pizza

Chamber ONE • 11:30AM Group 3 - Fox’s Pizza

Business After Hours Homewood Suites 5 - 7pm

Chamber ONE • 11:30AM Group 3 - Fox’s Pizza

Chamber ONE • 11:30AM Group 3 - Fox’s Pizza

Chamber ONE • 11:30AM Group 3 - Fox’s Pizza

THU

Communications Committee Olde Towne Soda Shop Noon

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22

15

8

FRI 10

SAT

31

Krewe of Bilge Starts at The Dock • NOON Warm Your Heart Fair SMH Founder’s Bldg • 10am Mona Lisa Moon Pie® Olde Town • 7pm

Krewe of Titans Starts at Salmen • 6:30pm

Krewe de Paws Olde Towne • 10am

A Tribute to Mama Cass Elliot • Cutting Edge Theater • 8pm

7

The Irish Curse • Cutting Edge Theater • 8pm

A Midsummer Night’s Dream • Slidell Little Theatre • 8pm

SMH Lunch & Learn Are You Fiscally Fit? Founder’s Bldg 11:30am-1pm

The Irish Curse • Cutting Edge Theater • 8pm

Carey Street Crawl Olde Towne 5 - 10pm

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A Midsummer Night’s Dream • Slidell Little Theatre • 8pm

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The Irish Curse • Cutting Edge Theater • 8pm

Salad Days Art Exhibit Opening Reception Cultural Center 6 - 8pm

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A Midsummer Night’s Dream • Slidell Little Theatre • 8pm

Harbor Center • 7-11pm

Starry, Starry NIGHTS IN THE EAST

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THE KREWE OF MONA LISA & MOONPIE WANTS YOU TO JOIN! CRAZY PEOPLE ENCOURAGED! SEE PAGE 4 FOR DETAILS HURRY! PARADE IS JAN 31

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RESERVE YOUR TICKETS NOW!!!

(Sponsorships & Table Reservations Available Now!)

Friday, January 16th, 2015 • 7-11pm Northshore Harbor Center

Chamber Awards & Membership Appreciation

Starry, Starry Nights in the East

GROUNDHOG DAY

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985-643-5678

XLIX

SUPERBOWL

Krewe of Perseus Starts at Salmen • 1pm

February

A Midsummer Night’s Dream Slidell Little Theatre • 2pm

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A Midsummer Night’s Dream Slidell Little Theatre • 2pm

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1

SUN

January

JOIN US ON THE CHAMBER FLOAT JAN 25!

HURRY! SPACE IS LIMITED CALL 985-643-5678 TO RESERVE YOUR SPACE!

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J a n u a r y

The

Sponsored by

Storyteller A Feared Man

If

my aunt were alive, she would be one hundred and ten years old. She was my mother’s oldest sister and her name was Florence. Everyone in that family had a nickname, so they called her Flo. She dropped out of school in the fifth grade and was married by the time she was sixteen.

She may not have been educated but she was the ultimate storyteller. I have found that most, if not all, of her stories were true; and to hear her tell them in that Southern, less-than-perfect English, would keep you spellbound.

One of my favorite stories was about her cousin, Tom. Tom was her Aunt Oneida’s son. They called Oneida, Needer. I will try to tell the story as Aunt Flo did.

“I was about ten years old, and Aunt Needer went off somewhere for about a week. She and Uncle James took the

years older than me. Nobody questioned her about nothing; ‘cause if you did, she would dog cuss you. Even Uncle James wouldn’t argue with her.

Word got ‘round about the baby and the neighbors started talking. Most thought she bought it from those gypsies who were camped down by the creek. They camped there ever year on their way to visit the grave of the gypsy queen up in Meridian.

wagon and an old mule they borrowed from PaPa. When she got back, she said she had done born a baby. Now I was about ten years old, and I knew that wern’t possible ‘cause when she left just a few days ago she wern’t even pregnant.

That baby boy wern’t no new born neither. I bet he was at least three months old. Anyway, Aunt Needer was a tough old woman. Well, truth tell, she wasn’t that old. She was only about 13

Everybody knew they stole babies and sold them, especially the boys. If they had their choice, they would only steal girls; but since they didn’t have time to inspect them before they ran, sometime they got a boy by mistake. You could buy them cheap, but they kept the girls.

Well anyhow, they named him Tom. It wasn’t long until the law came down and brought a couple with them. Their baby had disappeared just before Aunt Needer got Tom. The man said it wern’t theirs,

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I don’t recall it upsetting Aunt Needer much. I think she knew they would bring him back before long. You see, that baby cried all the time. Aunt Needer discovered that the only way to calm him down was to put a little whiskey on a rag and let him suck it. She did this three or four times a day and just before bedtime. If he cried at night, she would give him another whiskey rag.

She was right. One day that couple showed up with little Tom and told her it wern’t no way that was their baby. Their baby wouldn’t be that bad.

I guess Uncle James and Aunt Needer loved that kid but I am not sure. He was a bad ‘un though. Bad through and through. Burned down Ray Sharpie’s barn smoking in the hay loft when he was five years old. Smoked a pipe. Whitewashed Junior Martin’s Black Angus bull; but most people thought that was funny. Junior didn’t.

When old lady Allen died, they dug her grave the day before the funeral. Tom must have been about ten years old. That night he went and filled the grave back up. When that undertaker drove up with that body in the funeral wagon, he didn’t know what to do. Liked to have had a heart attack, dressed in that black suit trying to dig the dirt out of that grave. It was hot that day, I remember.

Tom was bad as I said, but he was smart, and liked to go to school. Made good grades too. They had a teacher in them days that liked to drink. Tom started taking him a pint of Uncle James’ whiskey ever Friday in his lunch bag. He would give Tom fifty cents. Well you see, the school folks caught on to it and they kicked Tom out of school.

Grandpa was on the school board in those days and he said they wern’t going to kick his nephew out of school unless they fired the teacher too. Well, teachers were hard to find cause it didn’t pay much. They got into an argument and the principal bit off Grandpa’s ear.

Then Grandpa pulled out his pistol and shot off the principal’s toe. You should have gone to that trial... but that’s another story.

They did not let Tom back in school, and they didn’t fire the teacher either. About that time, Aunt Needer got pregnant for real. She had a little girl and named her Pricilla. They called her Cilly. When she was born, they just forgot about Tom. He drifted about from pillar to post.

It wern’t long before we heard he up and killed somebody for calling him a firebug. Tom told the man he had too much class to burn down buildings. He told him that just before he killed him. He went to prison but somehow he got out. Then he killed somebody else and this kept on going. They say he killed 20 men. I don’t rightly know if that is correct or not, but he was bad. Ended up getting murdered himself back in the 1930s.”

Irish Curse

the

but the mother swore it was. Said she would know her baby anywhere, and the sheriff gave the baby to them to take home.

January 16 - 31, 2015 Make Your Own

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A Tribute to Mama Cass Elliot ONE WEEKEND ONLY

February 6 & 7

Ruthless

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February 27 - March 14 Tickets: $22-$25

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The story Aunt Flo told me about Tom fascinated me. When the internet came out, I began to research him and found out that he indeed had committed several murders. Most were in self-defense, but at least two he had served considerable prison time for. I have only been able to verify ten killings, but in an interview with the Times Picayune shortly before his death, he says he killed twenty.

I found out that a great-niece of Tom’s had written a book about him. After reading the book (more of a pamphlet) it was obvious she was trying to clear his name for the sake of the family. I had also done some research on Tom; so the niece, Pat, and I agreed to meet and compare notes.

Pat was a delightful lady from Hattiesburg and she and I, along with my Uncle Quentin, who had personally known Tom, spent an entertaining afternoon sharing information. Again, her angle was to clear his name of, at least some, of the accusations. I suppose mine was not to let him off so easy. Pat had a view of life -- no one could be so bad as to take a life so freely. Therefore, her Uncle Tom could not be guilty of all those murders.

My Uncle Quentin, now deceased, remembered an incident when he was very small. In those days (1920’s), a favorite rural event was the Fourth of July picnic. It was a big gathering, open to the public, with bands and dance pavilions, and it usually was held by a creek or stream for swimming.

On that day, the band was playing and people were dancing when Tom rode up on a big black horse. He fired his pistol in the air and the band stopped playing.

He then ordered them to play “Nearer My God to Thee”. Then, he ordered the crowd to bow their heads while he delivered a long prayer. Finally, he rode off firing his pistol in the air.

On another occasion, when Cilly was grown and Uncle Quentin’s family was at her house for Thanksgiving dinner, Tom come in unexpectedly. A few unfriendly words were said and he drew his pistol. He then shot the baked turkey off the dining room table.

One of the murders he committed was in Mt. Herman, Louisiana. For this, he was given a life sentence at Angola Penitentiary. Judge Patricia Hedges was able to get me a transcript of the trial that occurred in Franklinton in the spring of 1904.

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I don’t know if Tom was guilty or not, but one thing is for sure - he did not get ‘due process’. His trial occurred just two weeks after the murder, and he was not allowed to talk to his defense attorney until the morning of the trial.

Tom was a charismatic person and he soon worked his way into being a trustee, giving him more freedom than the average prisoner. He used this privilege to escape and made his way to Tennessee. There, he became a preacher, founded a church, and his congregation

grew to the point that he became famous. Of course, with fame came attention. Soon, the authorities found out who he actually was. To his credit, he turned himself in, and was returned to Louisiana.

Tom did not like confinement. About a year after he returned, he escaped again. This time into the swamps and marshes near Angola. His ability to elude his captors was phenomenal, but he could not escape the general area. After a couple of weeks, hungry, sleep deprived, and almost eaten alive by mosquitos, he turned himself in.

The record does not exist that tells how he got a pardon; but somehow, by 1913, he was a free man. It did not last long.

This time, he killed a man who threw a knife at him in Mississippi. He was sentenced to life in prison again. Again, he became a trustee. He convinced three other men that they could all escape if they cut a hole in the fence and stuck together. On the night of the escape,

Tom waited for his three accomplices to go through the fence. He then shot and killed all three.

For this act of bravery, the Governor of Mississippi gave him a pardon for meritorious service. After this, Tom seemed to settle down a little bit. His knowledge of the criminal mind and his knowledge of the penal system became an asset.

By 1928, Tom was working as a private contractor for law enforcement, including the U.S. Marshals. He had the best tracking dogs in Mississippi and he was fearless. It is hard to get a solid count, but the best guess is he killed at least two of the fugitives he was tracking.

In his later life, he became a debt collector for loan sharks. No one refused Tom when he came to collect. One man told him that he did not have the money but told Tom he would have it in thirty minutes. Tom asked him what he was going to do. The man said that he was going down the road to rob a store. It would be better to face the law than Cousin Tom. That is exactly what the man did; and the jury, knowing the fear that Tom evoked, did not convict him.

Tom also was used by slum lords to evict those who could not, or would not, pay their rent. On a hot July day in 1936, Tom opened the gate to a tenant house with the intent to tell the renter to move out.

When the tenant saw who was coming, he shot and killed Tom with a shotgun.

The man was not even arrested.

It is hard to tell where the legend of Tom ends and the truth begins. I don’t think he was bought from the gypsies, but it does make a good story. There are many other tales of his wrongdoings - some I can verify, and some I cannot. I know that today he is buried not far from his last family home. The house is still standing, but has not been lived in since 1936. The road to his house bears his wife’s name, but few travel it. It is said to be haunted.

EPILOGUE: In 2008, Tom’s is niece, Pat, and her husband were brutally beaten, robbed and killed in there Hattiesburg home during a home invasion. Maybe violence just follows that family.

 John Case

January 2015

15

Gliders

Story and Photos by Donna Bush

According to Webster’s dictionary, a glider is “an aircraft that is similar to an airplane but without an engine.” Most people would be like, “What? You’re going flying in a plane without an engine?” Think of it as sailing in the air instead of sailing on the water. And yes, I know most sailboats still have a small engine. Hence, in a glider, we need a tow plane to get us to the starting line, so to speak.

I’ve always wanted to go up in a glider, or sailplane, as they are often called.

Maybe it goes back to being a kid and watching hawks fly overhead. Maybe it’s all the dreams that I could fly. I got my first opportunity in 1996, March to be precise.

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I settle into my seat, getting comfortable.

I’m a little nervous, with a few butterflies in my stomach. After all, I’ve never done this before. I look around at the view, our surroundings. I feel a gentle tug as we start to move forward; the slack is pulled out of the rope. We level out, a runner jogging along side us to keep us level. We pass up the runner and we are off the ground, because of our lightness. The plane in front of us throttles up and lifts off the ground, pulling us higher and higher. Ahhh! The view just got tremendously better. We spiral up and up. At 4000-feet, I get the signal to pull the tow release knob to break our ties to the tow plane. WOW! We are flying, gliding, sailing free. AWESOME!!!

No noise, just the wind whooshing by as we ride the thermals.

I was in Phoenix, AZ for training for work.

No Google searches back then. I had to do it the old-fashioned way, with the Yellow Pages and a hotel room phone. I called a few places and most told me the only shot I had at a glider ride was to come mid-day.

Since I was in class all day, I couldn’t do that.

I found Turf Soaring School in Peoria, AZ about 35 miles north of Phoenix. I explained the situation; that I was in town for work; that I’d always wanted to go up in a glider but the earliest I could leave would be 4pm. They close at 5pm! They were very hesitant and basically said to call back the next day. Usually that late

in the day, the temperature was dropping and there wasn’t much lift to produce thermals. I called every day, often at lunch or on my afternoon break. It was Thursday and I was scheduled to fly back to New Orleans on Friday. Finally, my persistence paid off and Turf told me to come out that afternoon, but I’d better hurry! Well, not wanting to miss my opportunity, I told my teacher I needed to leave early that afternoon. She was not very pleased, but I was excelling in the class, so she said ok. I was so excited I could barely pay attention the rest of the day.

At 4pm on the dot, I raced to my car, my handwritten directions in hand; no GPS,

no cell phone. I didn’t have time to get lost. Well, I soon discovered 4 pm was rush hour in Phoenix and everybody seemed to want to go north!

I zigged and zagged around traffic and finally made my way to the glider port in record time. I pulled up to the small building, my heart racing, and hurried inside, where I found several gentlemen waiting for me. Although, I don’t think I needed to identify myself, I introduced myself as Donna, the one who’d been calling all week wanting a glider ride. I guess I’d made an impression on all these guys, many of whom were Alaskan bush pilots part of the year. (They were only in Arizona for a milder winter than where they lived the rest of the year.) As it turned out, my persistence and enthusiasm had been the talk of their week and they had decided they ALL wanted to take me up in the glider. Unfortunately, there was only enough time for one glider ride and that one would be short with the cooling weather. Since only one pilot could go in the glider with me, they drew straws to see who would take me up. John won! And off we went, quickly!

I put on my parachute…. just in case. I was given a quick introduction to the glider as we walked around and did our safety check. I was helped into the cockpit, told where I could safely step and touch. YAY!! I’m in the front seat!

With a complete set of controls! Can I fly it?

The tow plane is in front of us and the towrope connected.

Connection checked! John signals the tow plane with the rudder that we are ready for takeoff. The tow plane throttles up and off we go! Wow! I’m really doing this!

How cool is this?

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John explains what is going on as we move down the runway. We lift off the ground before the tow plane because of our lightness. We will be towed up to a safe altitude to release. The tow plane will fly back to the airport and we will be on our own. Soaring with the eagles and the hawks!

There is a peace like no other when in a glider. Peace and quiet for sure, but also the beauty of flying like a bird, like the eagles and hawks do, with grace and spirit.

John explained that gliders stay aloft because of thermals and lift. Thermals are columns of rising air created by heating at the Earth’s surface. When the air near the ground is heated, it expands and rises. Pilots keep an eye out for asphalt parking lots, dark plowed fields, rocky terrain and newly forming cumulus clouds to produce thermals. They also watch birds, such as hawks and eagles that are soaring without flapping their wings. In order to do this, they must be riding a thermal. Once a thermal is found, glider pilots enter and spiral their way up until they reach their desired attitude.

Lift is created by wind interacting with mountains. A variometer, which measures rate of climb and descent, uses static pressure to detect changes in altitude.

The pilot wants to minimize the amount of drag from the body of the glider, which is done by flying the glider straight through the air. A short, approximately 4-5 inch piece of yarn, known as the tell tale or yaw string, is attached to the windshield of the cockpit, directly in front of the pilot. This string indicates whether the plane is flying streamlined or “yawing.” If the string is straight up,

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we are flying streamlined. If it is to the right or left, we are yawing or slipping.

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After my lesson on how to find thermals, John asks if I’d like to take over the stick and fly a bit. Well, YEAH! So I take control, looking around down below and eyeing a patch of asphalt. I aim in that direction and catch some lift from it and we spiral up another 50 feet. WAY COOL! Considering the chilly temps and setting sun, we do a great job of getting in a thirty-minute ride. It’s time to head for the glider port. John asks if I’m game for a high dive landing. You betcha! We gain as much altitude as we can and begin our descent, screaming towards the earth. Talk about an adrenalin rush! I was grinning from ear to ear, heart racing and enjoying every minute. Not bad for a girl who doesn’t like roller coasters! We come in hot and fast, level out, and pull up by the main building where all the guys are waiting to see what I thought of my glider ride.

Well, I’m pretty sure the huge smile on my face told the whole story. After a few camaraderie beers, I head to my hotel to do homework, still with a smile on my face and my heart soaring high.

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My next two glider rides over the years to come were aerobatic rides, including barrel rolls and loops, etc. My last aerobatic ride was back at Turf in 2003; this time in May, with weather much better suited for soaring. None of the guys from my first flight are there. They are all back at their summer locations. I pull up and ask for an aerobatic ride. I’m told Scott will be right out. I see this really young kid walk out and I’m a little concerned. We get all set up with the glider and the tow plane. As we start our taxi out, I ask Scott about his experience with gliders. Ha! It seems my young pilot won the aerobatic glider competition the week before in Tucson! What a ride! I asked about the type of maneuvers executed in a competition. He would answer with “Cloverleaf. Want to do one?” and off we would go. In addition to the cloverleaf, we also executed a hammerhead, barrel roll, several different loops, a humpty bump and, of course, another high dive, low pass landing.

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Before the end of my hour ride, I once again took control, found a thermal and soared with the hawks.

Most anyone can enjoy a ride in a glider, whether you choose to try an aerobatic or just a normal glider ride.

Typically the minimum age for a rider is 12, but there is no maximum. I gave my friend, Shirley, a glider ride for her 90th birthday at Coastal Soaring Association located between Mobile and Pensacola at Elsanor Airport. Their website is www.coastalsoaring.org.

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Unfortunately, since Katrina, there aren’t any closer rides available. But, if you are traveling and would like to add a little unusual excitement to your trip, check out the Soaring Society of America website, www.ssa.org to see if glider rides are available where you’re traveling. I did this on my recent trip to Santa Rosa, California and found Crazy Creek Air Adventures in Middletown, CA where my husband and I enjoyed a two passenger spectacular glider ride over scenic Napa Valley with views of San Francisco Bay, Mt Helena, Calistoga and even geo thermals that provide power to the area.

Sit back, take off and soar with the eagles!

Papa’s Backyard Bar-B-Q Wait - you haven’t heard of Papa’s? That’s no surprise. The place is hidden behind a strip mall on Old Spanish Trail. The best description I’ve heard: “Next to the barber shop.” There aren’t that many barber shops in Slidell, so you have at least a chance of finding it using those directions.

I noticed Papa’s a few years ago for no good reason. It took me until last month to try it out. In the back of my mind, I didn’t want to get my hopes up because, if it was good, I figured there is no way a place so hidden could survive. My mistake, because it is good and I don’t think it’s going anywhere. As I waited for my food, a procession of happy regular customers came in and out.

spot. Don’t worry. The dining room is usually pretty empty. Most of Papa’s customers come for take-out so the spots open up pretty quickly.

The most prominent thing on the menu is the MUTT. They spell that in all caps. It’s definitely a mutt of a sandwich: chicken, pulled pork, chopped brisket and melted cheese. It’s in the Baconater class of menu items but I wanted to try it. Make sure you do this on an empty stomach.

The brisket sandwich was top notch. It’s hard to go into great detail about a very good brisket sandwich. Meat on a bun. Add sauce. It’s primal but sometimes you just need that.

Talking to some of the enthusiastic regulars, I am certainly going to try the ribs next time I go to Papa’s.

Depending on how busy the barber shop is, you may have trouble finding a parking

The MUTT tasted a lot better than it looks!

We also tried the wings. Unlike a lot of fried wings you’re able to get around town, this variety are smoked then tossed in one of 3 sauces. We had both the spicy and honey sauce and enjoyed both.

We all know Louisiana isn’t known throughout the south as a barbecue destination. Aside from a few very good attempts I’ve seen in New Orleans recently, the cuisine has never been a focus for folks in our area. So it’s nice to find a place tucked away in our hometown that takes its barbecue so seriously. Good stuff.

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Of Your Money

By Mike Rich

Pontchartrain Investment Management

There is nothing new under the sun (at least when it comes to your money).

I teach a Bible study at my church. Every week, about six or seven of us meet for an in-depth study of the Old and New testaments. The study is 34 weeks long, so it’s a big commitment for each one of us. We won’t be card-carrying theologians when we’re through in a few months, but we’ll know a lot more than when we began.

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We haven’t gotten to the book of Ecclesiastes yet, but, when we do, we’ll read one of my favorite verses. When the folks who wrote that book said “…there is nothing new under the sun”, they probably weren’t thinking about the world of personal finance and how millions of baby-boomer Americans would be dealing with college savings, retirement planning, paying for health care, and other money challenges.

On the other hand, if by chance those writers were thinking about money, they were right on: when it comes to money and planning for a secure future, there really is nothing new. Are you skeptical? Let’s think about this for a minute.

Despite the promises of the ever-present financial entertainers on TV and the Internet, a magic wand for making money has not been invented, get-rich-quick schemes still don’t work for most of us, and no one knows what the stock market is going to do next year, next week, or even tomorrow. No matter what anyone says about achieving financial security, there are no substitutes for 1) spending less than you earn and saving the difference, 2) diversifying your assets,

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4) making smart spending decisions.

same: spend less and save more, don’t put all of your eggs in one basket, prepare for the unexpected, and do smart things with your money.

For example, let’s consider a plan for paying for your child’s college education. You can dearly hope your kid scores a 36 on the ACT or is great at catching touchdown passes, but hope is not a strategy. On the other hand, you and I can easily do the research to estimate the future cost of tuition and fees, lay out a savings schedule, and work to put the money where it will be secure enough to be there when your scholar goes off to school. If it makes sense for your situation, I might recommend that you put some of your money in a whole life insurance policy so, if you die before the money is needed for school, the death benefit will be available to help fund your child’s education.1 Plus, if you purchase a waiver of premium rider on your policy and you become disabled, your policy can self-fund. So, with this approach, you’ve done four important things: you are on saving up a college fund, you’ve diversified into another asset class, you’ve protected your family, and you’ve made a smart decision with your money. There is certainly nothing new about this strategy, and if little Susie happens to get a big scholarship, the plan is still in place for the next kid in line.

Even though I often pooh-pooh the financial media, I read a lot of articles about money, and the good ones seem to have a common theme that goes along with the four things I mentioned above. One way or another, a lot of those articles say that, when it comes to money, there are some things we can control, and some things we can’t, so it’s best to focus on the former. For example, neither you nor I can control or predict our country’s fiscal or monetary policy, the rate of inflation, the price of gold, or a lot of other factors. If you are making financial decisions based on them, you are likely going to lose. On the other hand, you and I are in complete control of our saving and spending habits, and, if we turn our focus that way, our time is probably better spent.

If you are looking for a hot new way to achieve your financial goals, I don’t have it, and any financial advisors who say they do are simply trying to separate you from your wallet. Don’t let them do it. After almost seven years as a financial advisor, it’s clear to me that there truly is nothing new under the sun when it comes to achieving financial security. Instead, the tried and true methods of saving enough, diversifying and protecting assets, and using cash flow wisely still seem to work just fine.

So, grab your sunglasses and call me for a complimentary appointment.

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Did you know that last year there were over three thousand calls for help to Safe Harbor from individuals involved in domestic violence or abuse in St. Tammany Parish?

Did you know that one in four women over the course of a life time will experience abuse? Did you know that one in three dating relationships is abusive? Did you know that little boys who witness abuse in their homes are eight times more likely to be violent than other little boys?

Safe Harbor provides free, confidential, 24 hour direct service to survivors of domestic, family, and dating violence in St. Tammany and Washington Parishes. Established in 1991, Safe Harbor’s Domestic Violence Program is the only one in St. Tammany Parish that provides shelter exclusively for survivors and their minor children who are rendered homeless because of domestic abuse.

The program incorporates safety planning, empowerment advocacy, court escort, and referrals to community-based programs. Safe Harbor services include crisis intervention, lethality assessment, emergency shelter, legal advocacy, empowerment/support groups, and a comprehensive children’s program.

Safe Harbor saves lives. And they are asking for your help.

You can help by celebrating the AMAZING men of our community by attending a unique gala where the Real Men of St. Tammany Parish step up to the plate to expand community awareness and raise funds to support the cause against domestic violence.

This year, there are eight “Real Men” who have pledged to advocate for Safe Harbor. The candidates are selected

on the basis of their ability to protect, to cherish, and to provide for their families and their community. Leading up to the gala, the candidates stay busy, conducting their campaigns to battle the shameful and malignant situation that is domestic violence in our community.

Board member, Ron Davis, says, ““Of course the main reason for the Real Man Gala is to raise operating money for Safe Harbor, but also just as valuable is the opportunity for us to be able to get the word out about who we are and the important things we do regarding fighting the effects of domestic violence in today’s world. Domestic violence has for too long been a subject that has been swept under the rug and events such as the Real Man Gala helps raise awareness of something that is happening every day in our own back yards.”

JOHN CASE

BILL DAVIS

OWNER OF LOWRYDUNHAM, CASE & VIVIAN INSURANCE & WRITER, SLIDELL MAGAZINE

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John is married and has two grown sons, both of whom were married in 2014! In addition to decades of serving his community through his business and charity, John has gained much recognition from his brilliant tales as “The Storyteller” in this very publication, Slidell Magazine. He is an amazing writer and talented photographer. (Granted, we ARE his biggest fans!

Goooo JOHN!) He enjoys dining out, particularly at Christopher’s on Carey, where his son is the chef. He has been a president of the East St. Tammany Chamber of Commerce and is extremely involved in Rotary. John is a graduate of Leadership Northshore and a member of the Independent Insurance Association. He has served on the Slidell Planning Commission and the St. Tammany Parish Flood Elevation Variance Board.

John was fortunate to have not been raised in an abusive situation, but he is passionate about helping stem the tide of domestic violence. As a Real Man Candidate, he speaks frequently to groups about the necessity to support Safe Harbor.

He is keenly aware that abusers are always going to be around and that the community needs to support those who wish to break away from abuse.

Bill Davis is the Chief Executive Officer of Slidell Memorial Hospital. He is married and has four beautiful children. A selfavowed family man, he enjoys spending time with his family and nature. Bill serves on several medical boards, but manages to contribute back to his community through serving on the boards of the St. Tammany Economic Development District, The East St. Tammany Chamber of Commerce and STARC, a non-profit organization serving developmentally disabled citizens.

“When I hear about domestic violence, specifically in St. Tammany, I am shocked. I am aware of domestic violence as an issue, but to know that it affects that many people in our very own community is a wake-up call. It is a nearly silent epidemic and that is unacceptable. Not only do we need to bring this issue to the forefront of discussions, but we also need to take action to eradicate it. We need to make it into something other than just another problem to solve; we need to think about the individuals as our own mothers, fathers, daughters, brothers and children.

When we feel anger that this exists in our community, we need to ask ourselves, “If I don’t do something about it, then who will?”

No individual can do everything to stop domestic violence but each of us can do something.”

BRAD RUMMEL

MIKE NOTO

RESERVE OFFICER WITH ST. TAMMANY SHERIFF’S DEPT. & FEDEX SECURITY SYSTEM

DIRECTOR OF PUBLIC OPERATIONS, CITY OF SLIDELL

Brad is a resident of Slidell since age 4. He has spent a life time serving the community in law enforcement and security, serving as an officer with St. Tammany Parish Sheriff’s Department.

He is currently a Lt. of the Reserve Division and is employed

by Federal Express as an Internal Security Specialist. He and his wife Rebecca are the proud parents of their foster children.

He is involved with the Chamber, the St. Tammany Republican Committee, and is currently a member of the 2014-2015 class of Leadership Northshore.

Brad believes that it is horrible to have someone live in fear of another person and believes that domestic violence impacts not only the victim, but the family, friends and children. He states, “Our obligation is to create a solution and help victims find the comfort and confidence to move past the pain and into a new way of life.”

Mike has been a resident of Slidell for 40 years where he is Director of Public Operations for the City of Slidell. He is very active in civic affairs, donating time and effort, as well as fundraising, for Boy Scouts of America and Keep Slidell Beautiful.

He is the co-chair of Christmas Under that Stars for Slidell and donates time as a volunteer for Ashley’s Angels. He is married to his beautiful school sweetheart, Lisa, and is the proud father of a beautiful daughter who will graduate from LSU in May. Mike is emphatic in his belief that domestic violence is a disgrace to our society. “No human being should ever have to be the victim of physical or verbal abuse. Friends and family should be vigilant regarding the signs of domestic abuse and address the issue.”

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CHARLES KEPFLER

DAN MILHAM

OWNER, CiCi’s PIZZA

STILL PHOTOGRAPHY, METEOROLOGIST (RETIRED)

Charles Klepfer is the owner/operator of CiCi’s Pizza in Slidell and has served the Slidell community for 18 years. He is a 2013 graduate of Leadership Northshore and currently serves on the board of directors. He has served as vice-president for the Slidell Youth Basketball Association and is a 2014 Director on the National Biddy Basketball. He and his wife are the parents of four beautiful daughters. Charles gives generously to this community through funding, coaching, donations of his time and talents.

Charles has no qualms about his passion for Safe Harbor. As a father of four girls, he is keenly aware of the statistics that one in four women will be abused over the course of a life time. His fears are grounded in fact and he is dedicated to turning back the tide of domestic abuse. He feels the silence on domestic abuse is deafening.

Dan commented, “I hope my participation in the Real Man Program will bring attention to the problem of domestic violence.

Women under the stress of domestic violence need to know that they have options. They need to know that they can have a better life. Publicizing Safe Harbor is one good way to let more people know what can be done. “

JOHN BRINDELL

DR. JACK SAUX

CONSULTANT, EUSTIS BENEFITS

ONCOLOGIST

John is a native of Slidell where he lives with his wife Angel and his three children. He has also raised his niece who recently graduated from cosmotology school. He works as an insurance consultant for Eustis Benefits. He referees sports with Little League, Junior High, High School, College, and Semi-Pro. He is a 2013 graduate of Leadership Northshore and currently serves as a mentor to their project groups.

John believes that domestic violence can have serious and lasting effects on women and children. “Just as hopeless as the women feel, I feel the same way knowing that it goes on every day and I am just not able to stop it. Let’s ban together and raise awareness. My heart goes out to the children and women who go through these events.”

24

Dan is a free lance photographer. He retured after 32 years of weather reporting at WDSU-TV, where he now holds the title of Chief Meteorologist Emeritus. Dan is active in many civic causes through his membership in the Rotary Club of Metarie and as Public Relations for the New Orleans Medical Mission Services.

Jay is an oncologist who is raising three college-aged daughters to become successful and independent. He hopes they will grow up knowing their worth because he believes that learning the skills to be successful and independent will be essential in finding a partner who will treat them successfully. He remarks that, among his many interests, being a Dad is his favorite thing.

Jay thinks that domestic violence is in many families and comes in many forms. He believes that it is all too frequently swept under the rug in our society. “The only way to make things better is to recognize that there is a problem, get it out in the open and deal with it!”

Some very REAL statistics on why the Real Men of St. Tammany event is so important: Domestic violence is a real and pervasive problem in Louisiana which is compounded by a lack of adequate resources for response.  Louisiana has the 4th highest rate of female homicide in the nation.

97% of these women knew their assailant and 70% of those victims were wives, ex-wives or girlfriends of their assailant. Women are murdered at a rate about 40% higher than the national average in Louisiana. We consistently lead the nation in domestic homicides and have ranked in the top 5 every year since 1997.  There was at least one domestic homicide in EVERY PARISH in Louisiana between 1997 – 2009.  Louisiana has 18 shelters compared to South Carolina with a similar population which has 24. We have fewer shelters than both Oregon and Oklahoma, which have 1 million fewer residents than Louisiana.  According to statistics collected by DCFS, Louisiana domestic violence shelters provided almost 91,000 nights of emergency shelter in the last year and took more than 38,000 crisis calls. The programs documented more than 1800 unmet needs during that time period due to low staff and full shelter beds.  2010 research by the University of Iowa finds that the cost to society of a single homicide is $17.25 million.  Louisiana has a higher than average rate of multiple death domestic violence incidents.The average is about 30%, ours is 39% and often includes extended family and, 10% of the time, bystanders.

SAFE HARBOR STATISTICS: FY 2013-2014 (Jul 1 – Jun 30)

• Provided services - 328 residential and nonresidential survivors (of which, 25 nonresidential children, 242 nonresidential women, and 2 men) • Sheltered - 31 women and 28 children (total 59) • Answered crisis calls – 2,558 times • Assistance with the preparation of Petitions for Protective Orders - 23 • Court escorts - 76 • Transported survivors in agency van 537 times TURNED AWAY: From January 1, 2014 to August 31, 2014, Safe Harbor had to locate services elsewhere and provide transportation when needed for 154 women and 159 children because their emergency shelter was at capacity.

YOU can help prevent this from happening!

Come and Celebrate These Great men!

Harbor Center Sunday, January 25, 2015 at 6PM

TICKETS: $100 per Person

Silent & live auctions catering to the interests of men Cocktails • Dinner • Entertainment Music by Witness!

The stories of the Real Men will be told as they are honored for their heroic efforts.

A rock & roll gala with a Super Hero theme!

Get online and vote for the Real Man of your choice for only ten dollars!

Everyone can save a life by their donations.

The 2014 Real Man of St.Tammany winner, Otis Favre, is revealed at last year’s gala

For tickets & to vote for your real man www.safeharbornorthshore.com

25 5

TEMPTING THE

Palette Story and Art by Lori Gomez

For many years now one of my favorite things to do has been to work with musicians. I have been very fortunate to have had the opportunity to work with Vince Vance through the years.

Vince took me under his wing because he believed in me and my work. Since 2009, whenever he hosted his Louisiana Music Legends shows at Rock & Bowl in New Orleans, he would invite me to participate. He would tell me who he would be featuring and I would do a painting of that person to feature at the show. These amazing musicians would come check out the paintings and then sign them. The list includes Irma Thomas, Rockin Dopsey Jr, Al “Carnival Time” Johnson and Vince, to name a few.

I’ve also had the opportunity to work with the legendary Ronnie Kole on several occasions. I don’t know how many of you know that Ronnie has played the piano for SIX presidents. I can’t even grasp the magnitude of that.

It is because of his generous spirit that I asked if I could paint his portrait when I learned he would be inducted into The Louisiana Music Hall of Fame. Ronnie graciously signed that painting, and it hangs over my piano in my music room.

I will cherish it always. I have also had the honor of Ronnie playing both the “Legends” and “Beatles” pianos that I restored and painted for Habitat.

The reason I love doing these paintings is because it is a celebration of the musical artists. Musicians, like visual artists, are some of the hardest working

people you will ever meet. They work weekends and holidays during some of the craziest hours. I think those efforts are not always appreciated by people. There are a lot of sacrifices involved. Artists are the foundation of our Louisiana culture, for sure. Can you even imagine a world without music or art? I cannot. As a Artist, I feel as though my work documents history - and music is an inspiration and the soundtrack.

New Orleans musicians especially hold a special place in my heart. Our New Orleans culture is unlike any other place in the world. When you listen and watch our musicians play, it demands your attention. They play from the deepest part of themselves.

They speak through their instruments.

One night years ago, while walking through the French Quarter, there was a man they call ‘Grandpa Elliott’ sitting on the corner singing “A Change is Gonna Come”. He was accompanied by another musician whose name I didn’t know. It was the best rendition of that song I have ever heard. No fancy instruments or digital anything - just pure, straight from the heart, storytelling through a song. I promise you, it was better than anything you will ever hear on TV. It inspired me to do a painting of him, which remains one of my favorites because of the memory of that night.

I now know that my love of music was inherited. I recently attended my cousin Jimmy Anselmo’s induction

into the Louisiana Music Hall of Fame.

That night will go down in Louisiana music history as legendary. It was a night I will never forget. Many of the best musicians in the world honored Jimmy. My dear friend Vince Vance was there, as well as Dr. John, Al Johnson, Marsha Ball, Michael O’Hara and Deacon John, just to name a few. It was a nonstop feast for the ears and heart at Generations Hall in New Orleans. I just couldn’t believe I was sitting there witnessing it. Well, let’s be honest... I didn’t sit at all! I danced my heart out!

When great music is playing, my body takes over and I have to get my boogie on. (In retrospect, the choice to wear stilettos wasn’t a good one.) Although Jimmy plays trumpet, that was not why he was inducted, or why so many musicians showed up to honor him.

Jimmy is the first nightclub owner to be inducted into the La. Music Hall of Fame. Many well known musicians started out at Jimmy’s club in the 70’s.

He is a well known and well respected figure in New Orleans.

Jimmy first opened Co-Ed’s in 1966.

In 1972, he opened Quasimodo’s.

Both were bars on Maple Street in New Orleans. But neither was a music club. On April 9, 1978, Jimmy’s Music Club opened and a new chapter in New Orleans music history began. The first two shows starred Little Queenie and the Percolators and the Neville Brothers. He has presented many New Orleans greats such as Earl King, Professor Longhair, and James Booker.

He also took advantage of the punk rock and new wave scenes with two now-legendary bands, The Cold and The Sheiks. In 1986, he began booking national acts such as The Gregg Allman Band and Muddy Waters. When MTV began to change the music industry, Jimmy tapped into the new market. He began booking groups like Flock of Seagulls and the Red Rockers. His club is iconic. In 2012, Jimmy received The Best of the Beat’s Lifetime Achievement Award in Music Business.

The legacy goes even further, back to his father, Jimmy King Anselmo Sr., my great uncle. In 1943, Jimmy Sr. opened The Little Blue Room and, in 1946, the Mardi Gras Lounge on Bourbon St., both of which featured musical acts.

What a great part of my family history! I only became aware of Jimmy a few years ago. But I am so proud to call him my cousin.

It’s amazing how members of the same family can all be pulled in similar directions without ever knowing it. For the past year, I have been working with the folks from

Bacon Popcorn ¾ cup popcorn kernels ½ cup bacon fat 2 tbsp. parmesan cheese, grated ½ tsp. Slap Ya Mamma or Tony’s seasoning ½ tsp. ground rosemary 1 tsp. popcorn salt or regular salt.

1. Use a 12 qt. pot that has a lid that fits securely 2. Melt bacon fat 3. Add popcorn seeds the Bayou Boogaloo Festival in New Orleans to bring a 3 day music festival to Slidell. We are in the very early stages of trying to make it happen. I hope to have some concrete information in the months to come. If you would have asked me two years ago if I would be involved in a project like this, I would have thought you were crazy. But, then again, I didn’t know I would be writing for Slidell Magazine either!

For this month’s recipe, I thought I would share a recipe that is a sure hit when you have company. So much so, you may want to make several batches. It’s so good, I have to limit how often I make it.

4. As soon as you start to hear the fat sizzle, add rosemary. If you add it too soon, it might burn.

5. Place a kitchen towel over the top of the pot and swirl the pot in small circles to help move the seeds around.

6. Once the popcorn finishes popping, pour into a large bowl.

7. Add the parmesan cheese right away to the warm popcorn so that it sticks to the popcorn and doesn’t end up on the bottom of the bowl.

8. Add the rest of the seasonings and toss a couple of times.

It is quite addictive. I hope you enjoy it!

27

Sponsored by

by Corey Hogue

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis.

Or, as we more commonly know it, ALS. Or as we even more commonly have known it recently, the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge.

Now, I’ll admit, I chickened out of the ice cold venture even though I was challenged a couple of times; just not my kind of “ice cold” to participate in. But I did make a donation to the cause (which was the whole point anyway, in my defense). But during my donationmaking process, it got me wondering...what’s all this about? Why are perfectly (ok, mostly) sane family members, celebrities, Slidellians dumping buckets and bowls and sometimes truckloads of ice water on their heads!? Who doesn’t love to see their respected police chief getting doused in ice water? The short answer is - to raise awareness. But do most of you know any more about ALS than you did before you watched 257 videos of your friends and family doing it on Facebook? I didn’t. And thus the research began.

What I found, in scientific terms, is that ALS is a “progressive neurodegenerative disease that affects nerve cells in the brain and the spinal cord.” That sounded bad enough to me already, but what was even worse was finding out that approximately 5,600 people in America are

since its start. Consider that the challenge was done internationally, by thousands of people, and its permeation in Slidell was just as impressive. But really, ALS hits a lot closer to home for more people than we realize.

There is, however, one place that it hits that we just about all realize. Our one and only Steve Gleason. He was a large part of the reason why this challenge took our community by storm, and why we as Slidellians rose up like we are known to do to make a difference in any way that we could. Anything that speaks to us as Louisianians, and therefore as Saints fans, there is just no way we are going to ignore it.

diagnosed with ALS every year. That’s about 5% of the entire population of Slidell. And in the U.S., an ALS patient dies every 90 minutes.

No wonder awareness is so important.

Reports of the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge origins are varied. Most contribute the movement to Pete Frates and his friend Pat Quinn, both diagnosed with ALS. Ultimately though, it doesn’t really matter where it came from. What matters is what it has done for ALS patients and how awareness has grown

Steve played for the New Orleans Saints from 2000 - 2008, and is most remembered for his blocked punt on the night that the New Orleans Superdome reopened for the first time after Hurricane Katrina. He was our hero that night, and continues to be throughout our Louisiana timeline. In 2011, Steve was diagnosed with ALS, but has that stopped this man? No way, Jose. This is a man who was given a hurdle and rose to the occasion, to better the world around us. He could have easily become defeated, or resigned himself to his disease, but he didn’t.

He came against the all-important punt, and he blocked it. He has come up against ALS, and he fights to beat it. As part of his ever-continuing

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efforts, Steve also founded Team Gleason, an organization with the sole purpose of raising awareness for ALS and to ultimately fund and find a cure. He encourages people through his organization to talk about the diagnosis, and what it means for the people who have it, and their support systems, as well as to “make some noise, pressure the right people, and raise the money to make it all happen.” Sounds like a true Saint to me.

Steve is determined to inspire others by continuing to pursue life adventures despite his diagnosis, and has challenged the worlds of technology and science to identify their most promising developments toward new treatments and a cure.

Developments that were aided by something that seemed so inconsequential, like an Ice Bucket Challenge. Steve took it.

Drew took it. Aaaand, about a million other Louisianans took it.

We saw school principals wrapped in towels, businessmen and women ringing out their shirts, athletes shaking it off. To say this challenge escaped anyone’s attention would be laughable.

In about two weeks, the Ice Bucket Challenge raised about $4 million to aid ALS research. Some have even said that this phenomenon did more to raise donations for ALS research than any other campaign in history. Steve Gleason has always said, “ALS isn’t incurable, it’s just underfunded”. But because of this riptide of ice water that took over the nation, it’s a little less underfunded now than it used to be.

Because of the movement that the Ice Bucket Challenge created, the ALS Association was able to triple the amount that they usually spend on research for a cure. ALS President Barbara Newhouse was quoted as saying, “We have a sense of urgency, but we also recognize that we have to be good stewards of the donor dollars as we move this forward as quickly as researchers can research.” In addition to research, the money was also used to improvement treatment and lifestyles for people currently living with the disease.The ALS Association is careful to recognize that a cure is possible, but not achieved just yet, and they donate thousands every year to technology and resources to make living with ALS more...well...livable.

I guess since the whole point of the Ice Bucket Challenge was to raise awareness, I can confidently say that it “worked for me.” If I hadn’t watched my aunt, my boss, my cousin, my friends, Justin Timberlake, Jimmy Fallon, and many many more participating, I never would have made the donation to ALS that I did, and never would have done the research about the craze. But I am so glad that I did. Doing research on ALS and the Ice Bucket Challenge not only made me proud that I donated, but it humbled me. It made me grateful. Any one of us could become one of 5,600 a year. But how many of us would “Gleasify” (it’s my new verb. You like?) our predicament to make it into something bigger than ourselves? Something to make an impact on our world? I’m not sure I’d have the guts, as much as I’d like to say I would.

Did you take the challenge or make a donation? As members of our proud nation, and our great state, we have a daily opportunity to “Gleasify” - to rise to our occasion and make a difference.

To make a donation to the ALS Association, visit www.alsa.org and click donate.

And then grab a warm blanket and a hot cup of Joe, and be grateful for the change you’ve made.

Without dumping ice water on your head.

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Crimi-Mommly INSANE e

By Lesli

Sponsored by

Gates

A walk in my shoes Life.

What’s it all about anyway?

The last four months before fulfilling my military commitment, I was stationed at Camp Doha, Kuwait. Once this deployment was over, I was heading back out into the civilian world with no REAL skills to make a decent living. Yeah, I knew how to refuel military helicopters, drive big military trucks, and jump out of airplanes, but none of it translated into much. At least nothing that I would want to do the rest of my life. I always felt there was a more emotionally fulfilling path for me, I just wasn’t able to put my finger on it. And now the time had come for me to make the big decision… WHAT DO I WANT TO BE WHEN I GROW UP?

Stepping back out into the “real world” is very intimidating and quite scary.

Even though the military has a lot of uncertain situations, it still gives you a strong sense of security. Every former service member knows exactly what I’m talking about.

I was in 54th Medical Company, a MEDEVAC unit, and there were only a handful of us sent overseas from our regular duty station in Ft. Lewis, Washington. I actually extended my time in service, to be able to go. I WANTED to go. I knew there was something there for me to learn and grow from. I’m weird like that. I was also at the beginning stages of a divorce. He was long gone, and I was trying to find some purpose and meaning in the world. In MY world.

Finnan’s Family Pharmacy

As I got off the plane in my first foreign country, I almost peed myself! There were strange men in strange clothes, running over to me, staring at me, pulling at my hair. “Yellow hair woman!

Yellow hair woman!” they said, over and over. I’m sure the look on my face was priceless. I didn’t know whether to smile and wave, or knock the hell out of them. I was like the little sister in the bunch, having known my fellow soldiers for years. They all huddled around me, hiding my apparent mysterious golden hair of wonder, as we walked out of the airport, to the buses.

When we got to Camp Doha, it was nothing like that. Other than a Kuwaiti worker here and there, and the typical uncomfortable territory that comes

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along with being a decent looking female soldier on a very small post in the middle of nowhere.

I worked on the airfield, refueling helicopters after medical missions. 24 hours on. 24 hours off. We lived about a mile from there, in these warehouses with no windows, and the restroom facility was located three blocks down the road in a trailer. I spent most of my time walking, working, sleeping, and thinking. Thinking about my future.

Worrying about getting out of the military, and not having anything to contribute to the world once I was out.

I would draw and write some while sitting in my bed, or while at work, waiting for the pilot to radio in. And even though it brought me comfort, I never considered being a writer, or an artist.

I didn’t want to be a teacher, or a salesperson, or open my own business.

The internet had just come out so I set up an email account while I was over there; but during that time, there was no way to “google” ideas of a future career.

I heard there was a gym on post, so I decided to put all of my time-consuming thoughts and emotions into exercise.

When I wasn’t working, I was in the gym, twice a day, with my portable cd player and some headphones. Drowning out everyone and everything. I literally withdrew into myself. I had one CD that I brought with me.

The artist: Fuel. The album: Sunburn.

I must have listened to that thing a thousand times. I knew all the words to every song. It was a great workout CD for me too, because the words to the songs seemed to fuel the fire of selfpity, making me want to re-invent a new, better, kick-ass version of myself.

My new mission had become, “Operation Leslie: New and Improved!”

Towards the end of the deployment, a few Airborne qualified soldiers in my group had the opportunity to do a parachute night jump with the 5th Special Forces group in exchange for some of our medical gear. It was an awesome and very rare opportunity for me, especially as a female. Plus, it went right along with my mission, “Operation Leslie”! Can’t beat that!

The evening of the jump, I grabbed my CD player and tucked it into a pocket on the front of my BDU top, pulling the earphones up through my shirt, having my bra hold them in place so it wasn’t seen. There is a lot of sitting and waiting before an actual jump, and I had grown quite fond of the musical world I existed in, so I snuck it on with me.

It was over.

As the sun set, with parachutes on our backs, we loaded into the planes. Two C-130’s, each holding a total of about 60 troops. So all together, roughly, 119 guys, and one “yellow haired lady”, ready to jump out into the night sky and land in the desert of a strange land. Yeah. I was KINDA freaking out, to put it lightly.

I should have thought this out better.

Damn my impulsivity!

As the plane bumped around, I noticed some of the guys sleeping, others joking, like it was no big deal. They do it all the time. This was only my 6th jump.

No turning back Leslie. You got your dumb ass in this situation. And there’s only one way out.

The big rear door opened, revealing the night sky, and in the distance, the lights of the other plane. I had only jumped out of the small side door before, which made the situation MORE intimidating.

Then, to make matters worse, the guy sitting next to me says, “When you jump in the desert at night, you can’t see the ground coming.”

Oh. THAT’S. JUST. GREAT. At that point I began thinking crazy things like -

What if they didn’t pack my chute correctly because they don’t like females in the military?

What if they all leave without me once they hit the drop zone, since I’m the lightest and will float longer?

Wait? Why does everyone have night vision goggles but me?!

Oh no. Are these even American Soldiers or are they just Arabic men DRESSED as American Soldiers!?

That’s it! They have kidnapped me to cut off my yellow hair and sell it!

I knew I was dead. They had set me up.

The sound of the jump master snapped me back to reality… “TWO MINUTES!” Holy crap on a cracker!

As soon as the light turned green, it was go time!

All of a sudden, everything I had worried about since I had arrived in Kuwait seemed so small. So stupid. It had been all about ME and MY problems. No one else had mattered. How many people had I overlooked that were going through a hard time? Who had I helped? Who had I hurt? When was the last time I called my parents?

“GREEN LIGHT! GO! GO! GO!” I said a quick prayer while shuffling towards the door, “God, if I live through this, please show me what I need to see.”

And with that said, I jumped.

Four seconds later…

My parachute opened.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Just then, I remembered my music. It would be cool to float back down to earth in style, so I pulled my earphones out, tucked them under my Kevlar and pushed play.

The song that was playing was called “Sunburn”. I had played it a thousand times. But this time, while floating 31

peacefully, and thankful to still be alive, I heard it differently…

“All my friends are searching Quiet, desperately Look into their eyes you’ll see the faithless crying Save me, save me, save me.

What are they to feel?

Who are they to be?

What am I to do with, do with me?

Just let the sun fall over me Cause life aint livin baby, if livin aint free And if I can’t find my way back to me Let the sun fall down over me.

Let the sun fall down over me.”

It wasn’t a self-pity song anymore. I CHOSE to see it differently, and I’d like to think that song was playing for a reason. Here is what I heard…

There are people out there crying.

People that need saving.

That need an ear to listen.

That need SOMETHING. SOMEONE. THAT is how you find your way back to yourself.

And the sun… that’s God.

The next day, walking down the street to the bathroom trailer, I replayed the whole thing in my head again. How selfish and withdrawn I had been. And what it took to snap me out of it. It made me laugh to myself. Sometimes I can be so damn stubborn.

As I walked into the trailer, I wasn’t alone. There was a young Kuwaiti woman in there. I had seen her many times before. She cleaned the bathroom. This time though, she was sitting on the floor crying. I also noticed she wasn’t wearing any shoes. I walked over and asked if she was ok. She said something in Arabic, then just kept crying.

I sat on the floor next to her, put my hand on her shoulder, and told her it was going to be OK and that I wasn’t going to leave her until she felt better. She had no clue what I was saying, but she could tell I cared. Noticing her feet were small like mine, I took my shoes off and gave them to her. Then, she smiled, hugged me, and walked away. In that moment, all my worries were gone.

How many times do we walk past the same person every day, not knowing

what they are going through? Or not caring, because we are so wrapped up in ourselves? I do it all the time. It’s something we have to remind ourselves of every day.

THE WORLD NEEDS US. We may not have money to help someone in need, or maybe we haven’t figured out what we want to be when we grow up, to make our mark on the world, but we ALL have our TIME to give. And when we stop using it selfishly, and quit focusing so much on our own burdens, many more possibilities open up. Ones that could turn someone else’s life around, by giving them hope. Which, in turn, gives US hope.

So what do I want to be when I grow up?

Someone who brings hope to others.

Let the sun fall down over YOU, while floating in the darkness.

Not only will your darkness disappear, but you will create a new light in someone else.

That’s what life is all about.

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GO BEYOND

by Rose Marie Sand

That One Thing...

Do you know the secret of life?

According to the movie “City Slickers,” you may already have the answer.

Curly: Do you know what the secret of life is? [holds up one finger] Curly: This.

Mitch: Your finger?

Curly: One thing. Just one thing. You stick to that and the rest don’t mean sh*t.

Mitch: But, what is the “one thing”?

Curly: [smiles] That’s what you have to find out.

Where and how you find your One Thing may be a lifelong process - or it could be a moment of clarity in an otherwise cluttered life.

In no particular order, I offer a few of those recommendations and memories. Some are off beat, others well trodden.

For me, the Go Beyond philosophy – getting outside of my comfort zone in a spiritual or physical way – is the One Thing.

The Gateway Arch is a monument that’s stunning to see from the outside, but the real journey is a ride to the top.

In my daily life, I’m distracted by everyday chores and shiny things. On the road, I concentrate on One Thing and experience life outside the confines of a lens or window.

So, I’ve paused to refl reflect ect on One Thing I would recommend d on a trip to each of the snow-capped, sea-shelled, deepfried corner of our fififty fty states.

MISSOURI: The Gateway Arch in St. Louis

Picture a Ferris wheel-type pod, totally encapsulated, inside a 630 foot narrow tube. The pod is only six feet wide in any direction; as it ascends and descends the pod clicks to keep in an p p you y upright sitting position.

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The Madonna Inn can be described as gaudy, kitschy, silly, ostentatious, flamboyant, extravagant – all those words fit, but still don’t do it justice.

Although I’m often claustrophobic, the adventure of rolling around in a human washing machine kept me from freaking out during the four minute ride. The views of St. Louis and the Mississippi River from the top of the arch are breathtaking.

The arch is designed to sway as much as 18 inches, but it takes a 50 mile per hour wind to move the top an inch. I was grateful the weather was mild when we visited. There is a theater in the bottom, with a must-see video that’s both fascinating and terrifying about how the arch was built.

You can also purchase tickets online in advance for a riverboat cruise.

OKLAHOMA: Cattleman’s Steakhouse, Oklahoma City Cattleman’s Steakhouse boasts that it’s the oldest continually operated restaurant in Oklahoma. Since 1910, hungry cowboys, ranchers, cattle haulers and the like have wet their whisles and satisified their need for cholesterol heaven.

Photos of celebrities from John Wayne to Ronald Reagan to George Bush proclaim there’s more to this place than meets the eye.

A book titled “1000 Places To See Before You Die,” dares the patrons to try a dish called “lamb fries.” So, of course, I had to.

These are not your Mamma’s french fries; if you don’t recognize the dish’s name, think of certain circular private parts, fried like golden little mushroom slices.

Everyone at my table sampled the dish. The importance of this for me wasn’t tasting them. It was about knowing that I never have to taste them again.

CALIFORNIA: Madonna Inn, San Luis Obispo California State Route One is famous for running along some of the most beautiful coastlines in the USA, leading to its designation as an All-American Road.

The drive encompasses both the Big Sur Coast Highway and the San Luis Obispo 34

Picture lavish common rooms, accented by pink roses, Western murals, and hammered copper, and a rock waterfall urinal located in the men’s restroom designed by a Hollywood set designer.

Imagine 110 guest rooms and suites decorated as if 110 other set decorators had their way with the most over-the-top theme they could imagine.

North Coast Byway. My journey along this route started in historic Monterey and a visit to the art colony of Carmel, made famous in part by Clint Eastwood’s political career.

Jaw dropping views of mountains plunging into the Pacific in Big Sur and oak-studded hills as the road passes southward to Hearst Castle satisfied my every need for an eye-feasting road trip.

The tour of the massive Hearst Mansion is undeniably reason enough to wax poetic, but that’s not the One Thing I remember most.

The Madonna Inn is located on the west side of US Route 101, on the lower eastern portion of Cerro San Luis Obispo. The well known motor inn includes a restaurant and bakery, and has a pseudo-Swiss Alps exterior.

Madonna Inn has personality, all right, but also a sense of humor. If there’s an art to knowing where to draw the line between playful and overdone, these people lean close to the overdone, but in a good way.

Choose between rooms titled “Pick & Shovel” (sporting a gorgeous wall-to-wall leather couch designed by founder Alex Madonna and tractor-seat bar stools), “Yosemite Rock” (with a massive fireplace, symbolic of the familiar solid granite dome located at the eastern end of Yosemite National Park and an all-stone bathroom with open rock shower), “Tall & Short” (designed for tall & short couples with a bed that’s tall on one end and short on the other), or go for “What’s Left”, a room decorated with bits and pieces left over from all the other rooms.

Miss Leatha passed away in 2013 – but her words will never pass. “Love, love, love, love is the most important thing in the world.”

More Things ...

The juxtaposition of nature’s bounty along the Pacific and man’s testimony to lavish excess is what I remember most about this part of California. Perhaps that sums up the whole state. But in a good way.

MISSISSIPPI: Leatha’s BarBQ, Hattiesburg Leatha Jackson’s inspiring and heart warming story of her rise from abject poverty in the pre-Civil Rights south, to beloved matriarch and “Barbeque Queen” of Mississippi, has been chronicled in a book entitled “If These Fields Could Talk.”

Back in the 90’s, my family took many purposeful rides to Columbia, Mississippi to a tiny building that didn’t look like much from the outside. Just a simple little white house, but the smell of barbeque drew you right in. And once inside, wealthy businessmen, oil field workers and day crews from the Bogalusa paper mill rubbed shoulders and shared the love of food and family in the landmark barbecue paradise.

These days, Leatha’s Barbeque Inn stands off Highway 98 in Hattiesburg, but the food and the family atmosphere hasn’t changed. The restaurant’s become nationally famous, with foodies and celebrity regulars.

In months to come, I’ll write about a few More Things I’ve loved in travels across our country. But Miss Leatha said it best – maybe coming home to the love of family and friends is the One Thing I’m always looking for. And, thankfully, always have.

We would love to her from you!

Share with us your One Thing that you’ve enjoyed in any of our fifty states!

You can visit our Facebook page or email Slidell Magazine at Editor@Slidellmag.com

35

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HEAT-SEEKING FELINES Within the first week of vet school, I learned a hard lesson about cats. They are heat-seekers There we were, 80 bright-eyed newbies, ready to be molded into veterinarians.

Our attention focused on the instructor, we were startled when the classroom door opened and an administrator stepped in.

He called for one of our classmates to come with him; there’d been a call from home.

We learned later that the call had been from her husband. One of her cats,

who had a habit of hanging out near the scented candles they liked to burn, had gotten a little too close for a little too long; the singed hair on the cat’s tail now served as a reminder that cats aren’t just curious, they can also be oblivious to danger. A quick trip to their veterinarian’s office had confirmed that no serious harm had been done. And a cautionary tale had been delivered to a group of wide-eyed, firstyear veterinary students.

Over the years, like all vets, I’ve seen and heard about several similar predicaments.

Probably the worst are the outdoor cats who decide to curl up under the hood of a car where there’s a warm engine. Motor vehicles have belts to drive things like the compressor, the power steering pump, and so forth. If a cat has chosen to shelter in this warm, seemingly safe place, it can be disastrous if he doesn’t get out of there before the engine is started. A common cold-weather recommendation is to bang on the hood and blow the horn of your car before starting the engine; simply getting in and closing the door may not be enough

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My own cat, Cookie, is a huge fan of fleece and will sometimes burrow under a blanket on the couch, where the biggest risk is being sat upon! Cookie is also a fan of the fireplace, and I’m pretty sure the only thing that keeps him from becoming a feline torch is the fact that our fireplace is a gas unit with totally enclosed flames.

We refer to his sprawled winter pose, directly in front of the grate, as “worshiping the fire god.” As heartwarming a scene as this is, though, if you have any sort of open flame, make sure it’s completely protected and out of reach of your cat. Fireplaces or candles (see previous page) can be dangerous. Singed whiskers aren’t the end of the world, as those do eventually grow back and it’s a myth that removing them affects the cat’s balance.

However, particularly in longer-haired cats (or any cat not paying attention to the proximity of its tail to a source of fire), the risk of igniting the fur is very real. And, practically speaking, if the cat’s on fire, you may end up losing the entire house because of it. No thanks!

Cats may jump onto counters where hot stove tops can burn their feet; they may also jump onto heaters and radiators with similar consequences. If a cat is used to lying on a wood-burning stove during warm weather months, he can be in for a nasty surprise if he jumps up there after a fire is built in the winter. Burned feet are treatable, but they are VERY painful, and it is no fun at all to try to manage these wounds in an angry, hurting cat. Far better to anticipate and prevent that injury in the first place.

They also might snuggle up to something warm and not realize they’re getting too hot because of the insulating effect of their fur; by the time they move away, it’s possible to have sustained first or second degree burns to the skin because of that indirect contact. They don’t realize it’s happening until it’s too late, and wide areas of skin can be damaged. Ouch!

And one final warning: An open clothes dryer can be a death trap for a cat looking for a comfortable resting spot. I won’t go into the gory details, but I can testify from personal experience that it’s easy to close a dryer door and set it to tumbling, unaware that a cat or kitten is asleep inside. If you’re very lucky and you realize your error immediately, maybe no harm will follow. But if you’re not so lucky, mild burns and trauma, severe injury, or even death could result.

Much like my brother-in-law when he says, “Hold my beer and watch this!”, a cat doesn’t really have much capacity to think about the long-term consequences of his actions.

Therefore, as with children, it’s up to us to try to predict what can go wrong and prevent it in order to protect them from harm. Bang on the hood of your car or blow the horn; troubleshoot by looking around your home and thinking, “How could this go wrong?” in order to make sure that your cat stays both warm and safe, and preserves all of his nine lives.

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Our Founding Businesses

Prelude: Even when Slidell was a three horse, two saloon town, some entrepreneurs saw an opportunity to open a business here. Every year since the late 1800’s, more businesses would dot the landscape - but nothing like the 40’s, 50’s and, especially, the 1960’s. It was in the 1960’s that Slidell took on a more modern profile. It was also when all hell broke loose on the economic home front (in a good way).

Don’t get me wrong - many of our Slidell founding businesses began long before 1960.

But, because I am a baby boomer, the 60’s are my favorite decade. (Not to mention, that is about as far back as I can remember.)

I thought it would be fun for you to learn a little bit about these businesses, their owners and employees, and some of the things that made them special and unique in Slidell. So, I am starting a series of stories on Slidell’s businesses called “Our Founding Businesses”.

I’m going to do this in no particular order. I want my younger readers to know that there really WAS shopping and dining before Walmart, Northshore Mall, Home Depot, dollar stores, and big chain restaurants. And we managed to do just fine without them! I thought I would do this every couple of months to “Keep It Fresh, Keep It Positive” like Slidell Magazine’s

motto. Not to mention, we would all get a lesson on Slidell’s early business history and a walk down memory lane. I’m starting the series in the 60’s so I can interview people who may have worked at these businesses, as well as people who shopped at them, to give us all a fuller picture and experience.

On a personal note, I also want to share my memories and experiences of these businesses, as they comprised a large part of not only my town, but my childhood as well. Those of you who remember them have lived and shopped in an era that no one else will ever experience again.

Charles & Carlene Melton

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Ain’t Here No More...

The White Kitchen Restaurant Tuesday Night Special: Fried Chicken, All You Can Eat - $1.25 In special memory of Mr. Warren Buckley One of Slidell’s most popular restaurants in my childhood days was the famous White Kitchen Restaurant. This landmark was originally built in 1931 on Front Street where La Reine Olde Towne Centre is located now, and was originally named The White Kitchen Cellar until the owner, Mr. Onesine Faciane, changed it. As the famous highway sign implied, the White Kitchen was known for its open-flame barbeque, and it was the best! When I was kid, the owners were Mr. and Mrs. Carr. (Mrs. Carr was the daughter of Mr. Faciane.)

I have so many special memoires of the White Kitchen, I’m not sure where to begin. So, I am going to start with the food. Where else could a 10 year old go with his friends and eat all the fried chicken in the world for only $1.25? We did this often since we didn’t need our parents to be with us because Mr. Warren Buckley, a family friend and neighbor, was the headwaiter of the restaurant. Almost every Tuesday night was fried chicken night for me, Tommy, Steve, Joe and Billy - and about half of Slidell, too.

One particular Tuesday night in early fall, we decided to set a record for eating chicken. We prepared ourselves by not eating anything the whole day. We arrived at 7pm and requested our usual table, which we got. We were ready for a serious throw down. Mr. Buckley had no idea what we were up to until I asked him what the current record was for chicken-eating. He said that he had never bothered to keep count of the amount anyone had eaten; so, in reality, we were going to set the bar.

In order to keep track of what we ate, we decided to keep the chicken bones and pile them up in the middle of the table. We each ordered our first plate, which consisted of three pieces of chicken, potato salad, and one slice of bread. The second round wasn’t a problem either. The third round was a little tough, as I was getting full. But, that fourth round was a killer. Three of us were pretty full, but Tommy and Joe were still hanging in there. We gave them the bigger pieces while the rest of us ate the smaller pieces. That worked so well, we ordered a fifth round.

Soon enough, however, four us felt near-death.

But Joe was determined that we finish the round. We did, but the payback was pure hell, and then some. I felt like I needed to go to the hospital, and Tommy looked as if he was about to give birth at any moment. Steve was turning colors and Billy was delirious. Between the five of us, we devoured 75 pieces of the best fried chicken in the world - to the tune of $6.25 total.

The bone yard we built in the middle of the table was nearly a foot high. Even though we all lived just a couple of blocks away, the walk home was excruciating.

At the halfway point, I was bent over in pain.

By the grace of God, I finally made it to the front door.

When I walked in, I darn near fainted. Guess what Mom was cooking for dinner? You got it fried chicken. The smell alone was nauseating.

My stomach was already flipping like a butter churn. The smell of chicken was the last thing I needed. I told my mom what we did. She just blew if off as a stupid thing to do and said no more. Later that night, I woke up in agony.

My stomach was hurting in the worst way. I was running a fever and had chills. I got my

mom up and begged her to take me to hospital, which she did. When the doctor asked me what was going on, I told him about the chicken.

After a brief examination, he told me I needed my stomach pumped out. I had no idea what that meant or how it was to be done. Before I even had a chance to respond, Mama told him to do it. Even though she always denied it, I think this was her way of teaching me a lesson.

When the doctor finished, he said I gave new meaning to the phrase “bucket of chicken”.

Even though it’s not written anywhere, and I can’t prove it because Mr. Buckley died many years ago, I am confident that us 5 boys held the record for eating the most chicken at one time at the White Kitchen.

Note: The following story should be read with discretion.

The White Kitchen: 25¢ Condoms and the $25.00 Jack Pot In 1965, I was at that age where I was curious about sex. I didn’t know anything about it, but I was about to get my first lesson in safe sex, in an unconventional manner, courtesy of the famous White Kitchen Restaurant.

Hold on... read the rest of the story before you jump off the couch and scream. At NO time did I have sex at The White Kitchen (or anywhere else for that matter). It just happened to be the place where my curiosity got the best of me.

I knew there was a condom machine in the bathroom and I wanted to see what one looked like. Besides, they only cost a quarter.

What I didn’t know was this - when you bought one, everyone in the building would know it.

Apparently, there was a secret amongst the employees that many first-time buyers were not aware of.

39 39

Just as you stepped into the men’s restroom, the condom machine was hanging on the wall. It wasn’t your typical vending machine, by any means. It was more like an old, rusty, metal box with a large metal arm on the right. It looked kind of like a slot machine, a “one-arm bandit”. Except, instead of showing cherries and bars, it had sizes - small, medium, and large.

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This is where it gets a little crazy. When I put my quarter in and pulled the handle down, it made an awful noise - similar to squealing brakes. Needless to say, everyone working there (and perhaps some customers) knew what I had just bought. Now I was faced with the problem of getting out of there without being noticed. Well, I didn’t have worry very long because Mr. Buckley was on the scene immediately. He didn’t waste anytime running into the bathroom to scold me. He demanded that I turn it over. Of course, I denied that it was me (a few times). Then, he threatened that he was going outside to get my dad. That’s when the Dunaway came out in me. Sarcastically, I told him that my dad was at work, so he wasn’t out there.

That’s when Mr. Buckley called me to the door and pointed to my dad who was sitting nearby.

With that, I made a deal. I would give up the condom if he gave me my quarter back. We made the exchange, then Mr. Buckley escorted me out. Several of the waitresses were staring at me.

As I walked past the lunch counter heading to the front door, one of the ladies that knew me hollered across the counter, “Hey Little C.J., what did you think you was going to do with that?” I turned so red with embarrassment.

Just a few more feet and I would be out the door without my dad seeing me. But, just before I opened the door, something caught my attention. There it was, just waiting for me. Bright lights and all the trimmings - a slot machine. I paused, then looked around to see where Mr. Buckley was. It was all clear.

I put my quarter in the slot and pulled the arm down. And, I hit the Jack Pot! You talk about making a racket. Bells, whistles, lights... I didn’t know what the hell was happening. I looked around and every soul in the restaurant was looking at me, including my dad. Whatever I won, I wasn’t hanging around to find out. I opened that door and ran for my life.

When I got home, it was too late to make up a lie because Dad was already on the phone with Mom. When she hung up, she said I had just three minutes to get back to the White Kitchen.

When I got there, I had to apologize to Mr. Buckley and the cashier. I told them I wouldn’t have put my quarter in the slot if I thought I would win. But I DID win - $25.00 in quarters - but they wouldn’t give it to me because of my age. Now, I didn’t think that was right. So, once again, the Dunaway came out in me. With a little sarcasm, I said, “Fine, just hold on to it and I will come back in when I am old enough to collect it.” With that said, my dad slapped me so hard on the back of the head, I could feel my teeth shift.

To this day, I never received my jackpot. But that’s ok because I still have my teeth. I miss the White Kitchen. I miss going there with my friends. And I miss Mr. Buckley. Thank you Mr. Buckley for allowing us boys to be boys. Your were the best waiter and neighbor in the world.

Photos courtesy of Slidell Museum and Bonnie Vanney.

Sources: Slidell Times, Bonnie Vanney and a special thanks to Captain Jim Lamarque for helping me with some facts.

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YAY! Melissa Benson, as the New Elf, helps veteran elf Karen Hoyt choose a new Santa at Slidell Little Theatre’s annual production for STARC Santa s is a precious ld at Wendy Manes rty he pa as tm ris at the BNI Ch Creole Bagelry

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The fun and colorful characters of the STARC Christmas Play included some Slidell Magazine friends and family -- Rose Marie Sand (writer, Go Beyond) with playwright, Suzanne Stymiest (Slidell Mag’s EFOP for Novemb er) and friends, Debbie & Nolan Lefort (Slidell Mag’s EFOP for Decemb er)

Jonna T urner: “ You nev picture er have in Out T my Kendrra: akes an “You ha ymore!” ve to do s omethin Jonna: g goofy “Like th .” is?”

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