Slidell Magazine - 98th Edition by Slidell Magazine

MisChief Swamp Sprite

Louisiana Artist

CONNIE BORN Artist Connie Born's whimsical creations represent the richly diverse and fascinating culture that is alive in Louisiana. Custom made creations are available for any occasion or event. New additions to Born's Krewe of MisChief are created every day in the Gallery and Studio in the Marketplace at 1808 Front Street in Slidell. Visit the Gallery to see the new creations currently in process and to start your collection today! CUSTOM S CREATIONE! AVAILABL

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Editor’s Letter

I AM MAKING MY ACTING DEBUT! Believe it or not, the picture above is me. Well, kinda me. I’m playing dead (notice the cut throat) and I have a fantastic make-up job and wig done by the talented artists of Cutting Edge Theater. It’s almost shameful that I look better dead than alive, but I do in this picture! Love it! I’m not an actor; however, I’m learning and working hard to become one. I think all of us has a little bit of theater in us, starting when we are kids and realize that a little bit of dramatic embellishment goes a long way in charming our parents. I was in sales for most of my career so I thought acting wouldn’t be a far stretch, right? Wow, was I wrong! Acting is so much more than memorizing lines and hitting your cues. It’s truly an art

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Kendra Maness, Editor/Publisher Editor@slidellmag.com

Devin Reeson - Graphic Designer Graphics@slidellmag.com CONTRIBUTING WRITERS EFOP, Charlotte Lowry Collins The Storyteller, John Case Pet Points, Jeff Perret, DVM This Month in History, Dawn Rivera Storm Series: Part 11 of 12, Donna Bush Crimmi-Mommly Insane, Leslie Gates Legal-Ease, Ronda M. Gabb Making Cents of Your Money, Mike Rich Go Beyond, Labor Day, Rose Marie Sand Trail Tales of Swamprat, Donna Bush/Randy Fandal

Cover: Rigolets Lighthouse by Phil Galatas

Kendra Maness

Editor/Publisher Slidell Magazine

form and skill that requires a little bit of natural talent and a TON of learning, patience and practice, practice, practice. I’m in a comedy/ mystery/murder play called Murder Among Friends. My character is Gertrude, the best friend of the lead character, played by one of my real-life best friends, Julie Wood. Another one of my friends, Jacob Bolin, plays my husband (God bless that poor guy). The show is directed by yet another friend of mine, Suzanne Stymiest. I’ve had the pleasure of making 3 new friends that play much larger roles, Brett Trahan, David Rodriguez and the amazing John Kirkpatrick.

Cover Artist phil galatas

Each one of these talented actors has mentored me as I begin this new venture. Between all of them, they have DOZENS of performances on their resumes. So, when I say acting takes patience, I’m referring to THEIR patience with ME. There’s a bond that’s formed during rehearsals, working closely and daily with the same group of people. The biggest surprise for me during this process has been how much TRUST is involved in acting. Think about it - you’re on a stage in front of everyone, hoping that you’ll do everything right to entertain the audience and not make a complete fool of yourself. But, you’re only as good as the actor next to you. If you blow a line, miss a cue, or just plain suck at acting, the whole production suffers. For me, my biggest fear is that I will let down the members of a truly excellent troupe. So, I’m working extra hard to deserve the trust they’ve given me! I PROMISE I WON’T LET YOU DOWN! Come see a great play, with great actors, and ME! Murder Among Friends runs September 7-22 at Cutting Edge Theater. You can puchase your tickets at: www.cuttingedgetheater.com Use code KENDRAMURDER for a discount!

Born and raised on Bayou Liberty in Slidell, career artist Phil Galatas began painting in high school. His subject matter has always been Louisiana inspired. He has had a lifetime of influence from the wildlife, water, trees and culture of our region’s beautiful scenery. Phil discovered a love of sculpting birds, and his carving expertise earned him the title of Master Carver with three World Championships, three Gulf South Championships and numerous other accolades. Replicas of his beautiful decoys can be purchased through the website WildWings.com. His work has been exhibited in New Orleans, Dallas, New York and Japan, with permanent collections in museums worldwide, including New Orleans Historic Collection; The Ward Museum of Wildfowl Art in Salisbury, MD; and The Phillips Petroleum Museum in Bartlesville, OK. Phil has done many murals in the New Orleans and Northshore area, beautifying both the inside and outside of known buildings.

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Phil is also a Jazz Fest artist favorite, displaying his one-of-a-kind Fruit, Vegetable and Louisiana flavors lamp sculptures. To view or purchase Phil’s art, visit:

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SEPTEMBER 2018

Story by Charlotte Collins

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I invite you to grab a cold glass of lemonade and sit in your favorite rocker, if you are fortunate enough to have one, in order to read this article. This month, we visit Mrs. Ruby Fauver Henderson to hear tales of a much simpler time, before cell phones, online shopping, even before shopping malls or, if you can imagine, paved streets. Simpler is

good, but rest assured, simpler did not mean more restful. In her youth, men, women, and children worked hard, and treasured every minute off from daily chores. As I drove up to Mrs. Ruby Henderson’s house in Olde Towne, I was invited in through the side gate. The side yard

was filled with flowering plants in the ground, in pots, and hanging from shepherd’s hooks lining the walkway. Mrs. Henderson and her granddaughter, Eileen Tarver Smith, were sitting on the back porch. Popping up as I entered, Mrs. Henderson shook my hand and invited me in to enjoy the air conditioning.

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We sat down at the kitchen table, and Ruby explained, “This room is my life. I do everything in here.” I looked around and could see that this room had all the essentials of housekeeping, as the laundry appliances were also conveniently located in this part of her home. She added, “I don’t walk around as much as I used to, but you are welcome to go see the rest of the house.” I declined because, after all, my story was now seated in the chair next to me at the table. Her story is one of a dauntless, determined young lady who turned into a self-reliant, self-sufficient wife, mother, and grandmother who has made a major impact on her grandchildren’s lives.

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She explained that coming to Slidell the first time was like going to a city. Now, I had always heard how rural and small Slidell was at that time. In order to comprehend the comparison, Mrs. Henderson described her background. “I was born in 1922 in Brookhaven Mississippi, and we lived out on a farm southeast of Brookhaven.” She knew my family connections, and explained, “John Case, your brother-in-law, is from there and he knew two of my brothers, and can tell you how small Brookhaven was.” “In my family, we were all hard workers, kids and adults alike. Me, my brothers and sister took our school clothes off when we got home, and put on our work clothes to work in the field. I only sassed my daddy one time. He asked me to help his brother in the field next door after we tended our own field. I answered, ‘Not on my life, they’re lazy. But not us, we work hard.’ So, we went home. He told my momma and she said, ‘Nathaniel, you knew you had it coming.’ We never had to talk about that again,” and Mrs. Ruby nodded to indicate the end. “I had a sister older than me, and two older brothers. I also had one younger brother. That brother is still living here in Slidell, Dennis Fauver.” She smiled as she remembered him as a baby, “I was twelve years old when Dennis was born. They made me hold him on a pillow because he weighed twelve pounds at birth. He was a big baby!” and Mrs. Ruby laughed as she showed me how she held him with outstretched arms. Continuing, she recalled, “My mom, Daisy Smith Fauver, cooked and tended the garden and,” she held her finger up and paused for emphasis, “we ate what she cooked. There was none of this ‘I don’t like it’ nonsense. She made any kind of cakes and pies you could think about. And everyone loved her veggies, everything she put on the table, we ate. Daddy, Nathaniel Johnson Fauver, would kill a calf, and share it with neighbors. That’s how you survived back then, because they shared back with us when they killed a calf. No matter how little we had, we shared, that’s what neighbors did back then.” "My job in the winter was to be the first one up in the mornings and light the two back-to-back fireplaces.” Then she smiled, and shook her finger, “Daddy made sure I always had lots of tinder to light the fire. When

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I wasn’t working the field, I played basketball and softball. I got to play in a State Championship, too,” and that brought another big smile. "I remember that I loved school,” and her finger went up again, “but not algebra! Years later, our preacher, who was also my algebra teacher, asked me if I ever used algebra. I told him, ‘I don’t need it, I passed it, but I won’t ever use it. I told you that and I meant it!' And, I never have used it!” I have to admit, I share that sentiment. After her older sister, Ruth Fauver Allred, got married, she moved to Slidell. As Ruby tells it, “I came to visit Ruth, and met my sweetheart, Francis Henderson, and that was it," she threw back her chin and laughed. “We met at Bosco’s Restaurant and, I mean, we didn’t have nothing like that place in Brookhaven! I was at the jukebox, and Francis cut in front of me to pay for my songs. I loved Slidell so much I never went home,” and she smiled and grew silent in thought for a second. It seems they dated just about six months, and then got married in 1943. Growing serious, she described her new community, “The streets were all dirt in Slidell (what we now call Olde Towne). We moved in with Francis’ parents. You know, my father-in-law, Bill (W.H.) Henderson, worked for Mr. Brick Pomeroy Dunham, your great-grandfather. We came to know the Dunhams, and have the clock that Lucy and Brick Dunham gave to Francis' parents as a wedding present. You should go see it in my bedroom, it is really an antique now,” she winked. It was amazing, with craftsmanship that could not compare to modern pieces. I snapped a photo and hurried back to the kitchen, as Mrs. Ruby was continuing her story. “I met John Case when he came inquiring about the tombstone W.H. Henderson built for his mother, Mary Green, from Mississippi. He made it from petrified wood that he had shipped from Ardmore, Oklahoma, and Eddie’s Wrecker Service delivered it. Mary Green was married to a Kranky, then William A. Henderson, then married a Fricke, then an Andrews after that. She was a nurse at Charity Hospital, and outlived all four of her husbands." "The Chief of Police, Mr. Sexton, would round up help if he had to arrest a bunch of drunk, rowdy young men. He would call across the fence for Bill to join him saying, ‘Bring Francis if you can wake him.’ I could reach my hands out the window and touch the jail. After one of those round-ups, I said, ‘Uh -uh, we got to move and get our own place.' And we did!”

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I was lucky enough to see her photo of his parent’s home. That house was next to the artesian well that was in front of the city jail. When I asked if this location was correct, she nodded, “Yep, people came all the way from New Orleans to get our artesian water.” By the way, the photos and scrapbooks of Slidell’s history, not to mention the old clock that the Hendersons

passed down to granddaughter Eileen were treasures. I commend both of them for saving and showing me a piece of history I had never seen before. The young couple had their first child in 1947 and, in 1948, they bought the home we were now sitting in, which is almost 100 years old. They think Mr. Harry Gisch may have built the house. Many old-time Slidellians think the house is pre-1920. Mrs. Ruby expounded, “We bought it from Tommy Perry, had our second child in 1953, and never moved. Francis was a welder at Canulette’s Shipyard, which later became Southern Shipbuilders, who then sold to it to Mr. Chotin. He retired shortly before it shut down,” and she nodded emphatically. Growing serious she said, “Francis died in 2011. We had been married 68 wonderful years.” Soon, she regained her natural humor and started, “I’ll tell you a good one about Francis. Everybody in the family referred jokingly to Francis as 'Skunk.' The story has it that when he was five years old, he saw a chipmunk on the side of the road and wanted it. His whole family was traveling by car to Oklahoma to visit relatives. His parents let him hold it. Then the older brothers tried to take it away from him, and that’s when they found out it wasn’t a chipmunk. His brother Henry was on the tail end of that business and had to travel all the way smelling like skunk. I heard Henry had a date arranged for that night and it took three baths to get that smell off of him!” and she laughed and laughed.

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Looking around the huge kitchen she remarked to her granddaughter, “There used to be a wood burning, pot- bellied stove right there. This room is where I spent half my life, all but tend the garden in here,” and she smiled at Eileen. “I was the only one in charge of washing dishes, ironing, washing clothes, and cooking. Grandpa didn’t know how to even run the washing machine,” she giggled. “I remember when I was in the bed with my gallbladder. Dr. Cook came for a house visit. We had no hospital, so he had to visit his patients when they were too sick to make it to his office. He overheard Francis bring the steaks to me and ask how to cook them. Dr. Cook said, ‘Francis don’t you know how to cook?’ I told him, 'He only knows how to eat,'” and she laughed aloud. Dr. Cook then gave Francis instructions on how to cook the steaks. Then she waved across the street, “We had a big garden over there that Francis called ‘the Ponderosa.’ The okra was taller than me. After work and on Saturdays, we worked six days a week in that garden. I knew more about farming, but Francis tilled me some straight rows. He was a city slicker. But I loved it all, tomatoes, okra, butter beans, and string beans. We gave more away than anything else. I remember Mrs. Bass would come get vegetables with her pull cart. I didn’t need anything in return, and wouldn’t have taken anything anyway. That’s what neighbors do. She gave me that cart later, and it's still in my shed today.”

L-r: Miss Ruby on the 1939 West Lincoln High softball team in Brookhaven, MS (top row, far right) Miss Ruby (right) with a high school friend in front of the school's wooden schoolbus. Ruby Fauver, senior portrait. Francis at Shell Beach, and Ruby at Fort Pike, as newlyweds in the early 1940's.

She beamed when she added, “But we didn’t work on Sundays, we would go to First United Methodist Church. You know, I watched them move the Methodist church from First Street to Third, and I watched it roll down the street on a big trailer. After church, we sometimes drove out to Shell Beach. In those days, the water was so clear, and you could just walk way out there.” Mrs. Ruby waved her hand to indicate distance. “He was a swimmer, but not me. I would sit and watch him, afraid of the water. Francis was born and raised here and was used to water. I was not!” And she shook her head determinedly. Mrs. Ruby learned to do everything they needed herself. She described, “Once we married, we almost never went out to eat. I learned to cook, and I hear I cooked well. Edward Goubler had Edward’s Fish Market. And we fished. Francis loved fishing out on the lake. We set crab traps, too. I used to make gumbo for others, I don’t like shrimp, oysters or crabs, but they did.” This comes from the young lady who was not comfortable in the water, didn’t like most seafood, and was just learning to be the head chef. “I also made chicken and dumplings. I loved fried catfish the most.” When I asked if they ever went shopping, she responded, “Honey, Slidell didn’t have but three stores for clothes. We

bought clothes at either Neuhauser’s, Haddads, or McDaniel’s across from Dr. Polk’s office. We did a little shopping in New Orleans, and I looked forward to going to Schwegmann’s. But after a trip to the city, I would say to Francis, ‘That was all too much, we’ll go back home and get whatever they have back there.’ I also sewed clothes for the grandkids. I used to make clothes for my friends in high school, and my friends wanted me to make replicas of my clothes.” She thought for a moment and said, "The biggest thing I learned from Francis was never to borrow or use lay-away plans. He called them 'lay-awake' plans, because they kept you from sleeping,” and she laughed. “He always said, ‘If you don't have the money, you don't get it, period.” She also learned to cut hair to save a little pocket change. “I cut Edward Goubler’s hair every time he had to go to a funeral. My husband never got another haircut out of the house once we got married. I cut his hair and mine. I’m 96 years old and still cutting my own hair,” she said fluffing her hair proudly. I had not had time to subtract her birth date from 2018. You can imagine my surprise that this self-sufficient, quick-witted woman with an amazing memory could be 96 years old. But don’t make the mistake that this practical grandmother

SLIDELL HISTORY: left: W.H. Henderson, Miss Ruby's father-in-law, holding his great-nephew, Arthur, at the family homestead, located directly next to the jail (now the Slidell Museum). Note the free flowing aresian well next to him. Middle: The glorious petrified wood tomb built by W.H. Henderson for his mother, Mary, is a highlight of John Case's Greenwood Cemetery Tours. Right: Francis & Ruby Henderson, circa 2005.

SLIDELL HISTORY: Part of Miss Ruby's photo collection included this 1933 photograph of Francis' 5th grade class at Slidell Grammar School. All of the names were written in script on the back. You'll recognize many of them from Slidell's earliest families! James Broom, Willis Scogin, Royce Faciane, George Baragona, S. Windolph, Mabel Phillips (Teacher), Francis Henderson, Eva Bennett, Eloise McKean, Geneva Williams, Margaruite Dubuisson, Ellen Foley, Marie Szodomka(?), Dora Mae Rist, Esther Taylor, Helen Dorr, Nettie Williams, Elfreda Windolph, Juanita Pichon, Doris McCoy, Dorothy Faciane, Marjorie Jenkins, Helen Craw(?), Amelia Galatas, Bobby Ezell, Harry Spence, Wilbur(?) Krendal, Hubert Vaughn, Bobby White, Arthur Vaughn, Ray Redan, Wallace Carr, Marcel Nunez, Ernest Smith, and Warren Fandal

was simply old fashioned. It took innovation and ingenuity to be as resourceful as Mrs. Ruby was. Her granddaughter, Eileen, confirmed this by exclaiming, “Grandma brought me to my very first rock and roll concert, Donnie and Marie Osmond. Grandma has always been the central spoke of the family. When Hurricane Katrina brought 3 and a half feet of water in her house, we all pitched in. Me and my husband, my brothers, Eric Tarver in Lacombe, and Gene Tarver, who was deployed in the Persian Gulf but came home from the Navy, and Uncle Carl, Grandma’s son, gutted everything. We restored the furniture and saved everything we could, putting the home back as close as possible to the way it was,” and Eileen squeezed her grandmother’s hand. Eileen stays with Mrs. Ruby on a regular basis, between trips back to her own house. Eileen and her husband couldn’t bear to throw away Mrs. Ruby’s bicycle, so they restored it. It is now in the shed where it always was, and Eileen rides it through Olde Towne on her frequent visits.

Mrs. Ruby squeezed back tears and answered, “ I don’t know what I would do without them. But I’m happy here. I love Slidell. I’m just happy things are like there are now, more paved streets, nice sidewalks. I was really happy when we got Schweggman’s.” She held her finger up one more time, adding, “I would like less bars, they hoot and holler all night, and play loud music,” she said with a wry smile. When it was time for me to go, Ruby and Eileen walked me out the side entrance, past her green house. I walked slowly to admire how well she kept her plants watered and weeded in this hot summer heat, and realized again how truly remarkable Mrs. Ruby Henderson is. I hope you enjoyed this visit into the past, and the woman who has the remarkable ability to remember tales of Slidell almost a hundred years ago. That is what makes Olde Towne great. Neighbors get to meet neighbors. The most fascinating ones may be just around the corner from you. 11

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MAKING

CENTS

By Mike Rich, CFP® Pontchartrain Investment Management

IT’S FUN TO DO NOTHING ALL DAY investment plan is in motion, it’s often best to keep your hands off. Go and do something fun - like fishing, working in your yard, or taking the family on a beach vacation. Do anything except mess with your money.

Back in July, Mary and I spent a week in Perdido Key, Florida with our children and grandkids. Not everyone was there for the entire week, but we managed to get a couple of days when all 14 of us were together. It was a wonderful week, the weather was good, and – thanks to gallons of sunscreen – no one got sunburned. In the picture you see here, Mary and I are joined on an especially fine evening by four of our six beautiful grandchildren: Grace, Allison, Posey Jane, and threemonth-old Hudson. Mary and I love going to the beach, and our family’s annual trip to the Florida coast is one of the highlights of our year. My beach routine is pretty simple. I’m out of bed at about 5:30am, on the street a few minutes later for my morning run, and ready for breakfast by about 7:00 or so. After some coffee and dolphin-spotting from the balcony of our condo, I’m usually out on the beach by 8:30, at which time I do…pretty much nothing. I love it!

It’s probably not good as a steady diet, but there’s a lot to be said about doing nothing sometimes. In fact, when it comes to investing your hard-earned money so you can pursue your financial dreams and goals, one of the best things you can do most times is nothing. You have to get started, of course; but, once your

After more than ten years of helping people with their money, I’ve noticed that a lot of folks make investing way more complicated than it actually is, but it’s not all their fault. The financial media – TV, the Internet, blogs, magazines – constantly bombard us with information, much of which is designed solely to entertain us, increase ratings, or attract us to websites. The central message seems to be that, if you are not doing something with your money every day – like checking your balances or making trades or moving from one investment to another or getting into or out of cash – you’re putting your financial life in jeopardy. Frankly, most people shouldn’t be doing any of that.

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You can put an end to that nonsense right now, if you want. The so-called experts will want you to think you’re out of the action, but the results could be worth it. Here’s how:

Goal Number 1 Make a plan.

I write about this first step in many of my articles, and for good reason. When you have a plan in place, it’s easier to do nothing. Making the plan work is up to you, and one of the best ways is to simply invest regularly (make it automatic; every month is good) and then do nothing, unless your circumstances change. Are you ready to take the plunge and get started? Call me.

Goal Number 2

Spend less, save more. If you spend less than you earn and save the rest, you are way ahead in the do-nothing game. I don’t care where you put your money – 401(k) plan, IRA,

regular investment account, or even cash value life insurance – just as long as it is somewhere that is suitable for you in terms of risk and pursuing a rate of return that can help you meet your investment objectives, and that you are saving at least 10% to 15% of your gross income, year in and year out. That might sound like a lot, but it’s easier than you think, if you make smart choices with your money. I can show you how.

You might be thinking, “If all I have to do for my financial plan is nothing, why do I need an advisor?” Good question. You need me because my job is to help you make a financial plan that’s designed for you, and no one else. My job is to help you figure out how much you need to save and invest for your goals. My job is to make sure we are managing risk so some unexpected life event doesn’t unravel things for you and your family.

Goal Number 3

Frankly, my biggest job is to keep you from doing something when you should be doing nothing.

I do ask that you meet or talk with me during the year so we can review our progress, rebalance your account if needed, and fine-tune; but, except for that, you can pretty much do nothing. And, for sure, don’t pay attention to the nut jobs on TV who tell you why you absolutely must have an online trading account so you can buy and sell from your smart phone while making breakfast for your kids. You can say good-bye to that garbage, and good riddance.

If this sounds cool to you, call me for an appointment.

Do nothing.

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

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They’re a twangified rock ’n’ roll band. Like Led Zeppelin playing Johnny Cash. ~ Offbeat Magazine

Mix lonesome honky tonk lyrics with scorching rock-n-roll guitars. Then simmer it in the legendary Southern Louisiana heat, and you get Christian Serpas & Ghost Town’s version of Americana Music. For over 15 years, Ghost Town has been earning their reputation as one of the Gulf South’s best live acts, making true believers out of audiences every time they hit a stage with their boot-stomping, hip-shaking, high energy performances. Armed with seven CDs worth of their own catchy, memorable songs, plus their rip-roaring interpretations of country and rock classics, Ghost Town have performed over a thousand shows, raising roofs from Austin to Nashville and every town in between. They’ve done it all: clubs, fairs, festivals, casinos and concert halls, along with dozens of TV and radio show appearances. They’ve landed songs on Country Radio charts, and received awards honors and accolades from respected Louisiana music magazines, including Album of the Year, Musician of the Year, Male Vocalist of the Year, and Top Louisiana CDs of the Year. Along the way they’ve shared stages with everyone who’s anyone in country music (Kenny Chesney, Merle Haggard, Dwight Yoakam, Montgomery Gentry, Blake Shelton, Pat Green, Jason Aldean, Zac Brown Band and over 80 others), earning fans everywhere they go. With Christian Serpas leading the way on vocals and acoustic guitar, the band promises great music and fun times with witty dialogue and audience participation. Joining Christian are Jeff Oteri on drums, George Neyrey on guitar and Don Williams on bass guitar. Their shows highlight their impressive originals mixed with fan favorites like Little Sister and Folsom Prison (which is amazing). You can also see Christian and George in duo performances throughout the region. Visit www.christianserpas.com for more about this local band making a big name for themselves!

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The Trail Tales of Swamprat

“A few reasons I chose to hike the Appalachian Trail when I retired was to replace the horrible memories with many new wonderful memories. What I read about hiking the trail seemed to be just what I needed. I would have to rely on strangers and learn to trust people again. I would see incredible views and make many friends along the way.” - Randy Fandal, Slidell Chief of Police

Randy Fandal was born and raised in Slidell and hopes to always call it home. He is an avid outdoorsman and has enjoyed years of fishing and hunting throughout the many swamps and rivers. Hence the trail name, "Swamprat."

He is married to his loving wife of 20+ years, Dania, and has three fantastic children - Mark, Mallory, and Matthew.

Randy has worked in law enforcement for nearly 38 years, beginning when he was 20 years old. He retired as a Lieutenant from the Louisiana State Police (LSP) where he enjoyed a great career. He was an officer with Slidell PD for almost 10 years, leaving in 1990 to begin a new career with the LSP. He worked as a narcotics officer for a few years and as an interdiction Trooper for most of his career. The last three years, he was able to coordinate the State’s efforts of the Interdiction Program as Lieutenant. Randy has served as Slidell Chief of Police since December, 2016.

"As a law enforcement officer, one of the sad realities is, you become very suspicious of most people. The longer you stay on the job, you begin to lose trust in most people. Unfortunately, this comes with the territory. During my career, I witnessed things that people should never have to witness, especially with the State. I investigated many terrible crashes that have left horrible images which I will never forget. I have had the displeasure of having to tell loved ones that a member of their family was killed or terribly injured in a crash."

There are many wonderful and terrifying days in the life of a law enforcement officer. Randy shares insight into his job:

Over the years, Randy had read about the Appalachian Trail. Hiking the trail seemed to be just what he needed to dissolve the bad memories and replace them with good. "It became an obsession to hike the trail. The last two years of my career, I began buying gear and preparing for the hike. Dania realized about a year before I began my thru, that I was serious, and she agreed to support me 100%." Randy challenged himself that, upon retiring from the LSP, he would hike the trail, not just as his own goal, but to raise money for the LSP Grant-A-Wish program. If, for any reason, he did not finish, he would donate $1 for every mile he did not complete. That would prove to be a huge incentive that would ultimately guarantee his completion of the hike.

by donna bush and chief randy fandal Benton MacKaye, a New England regional planner, first proposed the idea of an Appalachian Trail in October of 1921. The trail, built by private citizens, was completed in 1937. It took 7 years to build, crosses 14 states, 6 national parks and 8 national forests. The trail is 2,190 miles from the start at Springer Mountain, Georgia, to the finish at Mount Katahdin, Maine. The official mileage and trail can vary from year to year due to upgrades and repairs. Weather is extreme on the A.T., from 100° days, to sleet and snow, torrential rains, and tropical force winds. Sometimes the trail is flooded, forcing you to ford a raging stream or wade through mud. It has peaks reaching as high as 6643 feet with Clingmans Dome; Mahoosuc Notch, known as the funnest or toughest one-mile, strewn with boulders that you must scramble under or over; and a 100-mile stretch of total wilderness. No place for food or assistance! It is not for the faint of heart! The Southern Terminus Access Trail begins at the Amicalola Falls State Park Visitor Center as it climbs to the top of the Amicalola Falls. The approach trail is about 10 miles, with roughly 600+ steps to climb. Numerous would-be A.T. hikers take the approach trail and decide not to

even start the A.T. Approximately 5000 people attempt the thru-hike each year. A ‘thru-hiker’ is someone hiking the entire trail start to finish. They are also called a "two-thousand miler" when they finish because they've hiked two thousand miles. In my mind, if I hiked two thousand, one hundred and ninety miles, I’d want to be called a two thousand, one hundred and ninety-miler! I want credit for every mile! The A.T. can also be completed in section hikes where you hike a portion at a time and eventually link it all together. There are a variety of ways to accomplish the A.T. White blazing is the traditional, following the white blaze marks on trees and rocks. There is blue blazing, using side trails; yellow blazing, taking the highway; aqua blazing, using a water route; or sky blazing, taking an airplane. Only about 20% of people who attempt the trail will finish it. In the early days of the trail, the majority were men, but now 29% of completions are women. Hikers from over 40 countries have become two-thousand milers. About half of the thru-hikers are in their 20’s, with the oldest being 82. The Chief began his hike in 2012 by himself, although Dania joined him for the approach trail and the summit at the finish, along with some hikes in between.

He signed the official thru-hiker register as #245 and began his day of hiking on a rainy, cold day, March 12, 2012. He kept a journal of each day of his hike and created a book upon his return. I will share entries and excerpts from his journey with you... March 12: … I am very tired and emotionally drained. I am wet and already having some doubt about being able to finish this hike. It is only my first night and it hasn’t been a good day. I will blame this on several factors, the biggest being I had to say goodbye to Dania. I hope when I wake up in the morning I will be in a better frame of mind. Not such a good day on the A.T. Finding water on such a long hike was a continuing challenge for Randy on his journey. Because of the additional weight, you obviously can’t pack it with you. He was able to find water at creeks and rivers along the trail. He purified and filtered it, then poured it in a liter container and used a steriPEN. A SteriPEN uses short wave germicidal UV light to purify water. The UV light disrupts the DNA of bacteria, viruses and protozoa, rendering them unable to reproduce and therefore harmless. Randy learned, sometimes the hard way, that you have to pay attention to the location of watering holes along the route after running out of water more than once. The next few days got gradually better, especially as the rain moved out. March 15: I hiked a few miles to Cowrock Mountain. The views were fantastic. I took some pictures and was feeling good about my hike. Suddenly, I "Fandalized’"myself (a term coined by co-workers meaning Fandal trips are highlighted by incidents/ accidents that occur in my life on any given day). Guess I was going too fast and stepped on a rock that rolled. Made it down the next 2.5 miles limping. The next morning my ankle was badly bruised. Got a ride to the hospital. The Physician’s Assistant told me that they see so many ankles, they usually don’t even x-ray them, but he was gonna x-ray mine because it looked broken. PA came in 20 minutes later and tells me, ‘I’ve got good news and bad news.’ What’s the bad news? ‘You tore something.’ What’s the 29

good news? ‘It’s not broken. Recommend you stay off it for a couple of weeks.’ I walked out, caught a ride back to where I was picked up and kept hiking. Water is not the only challenge. Finding nutritious food with enough caloric content is very difficult. Over the course of the hike, the Chief lost 35 pounds! He estimated that he burned 5000 calories per day and only consumed 1500 daily. Just like water, it is impossible to carry enough food. When I sat with Randy to talk about the trip, he explained, “There are two options. You can mail packages of food, called bounce boxes, to yourself where you think you will need to resupply. When you arrive in that town, you visit the local Post Office and retrieve your package. The advantage is more control over what you will eat. The disadvantage is if you arrive late on a Saturday, you are stuck until Monday morning or later, if Monday is a holiday. I did mail two packages to myself over the entire trip. The second option was to resupply along the trail. Every 3-5 days, you come to a road that you can take into a little town to resupply. I’d never hitchhiked a day in my life, but I did there. Often, if I arrived early enough, I could resupply and get back on the trail. If I arrived late, I’d find a cheap motel and get back out the next day. "Breakfast was cereal, pre-mixed with powdered milk and powdered chocolate, then mixed with water. Had to have my coffee! Starbuck’s Via® Instant Coffee mixed with powdered milk and chocolate. Trail mix, cliff bars, etc. during the day. "Lunch was a tortilla with peanut butter. I used rollup fruit bars for the jelly. Dinner consisted of dried potatoes with cut-up slim jims. Anything you can mix with boiled water. No pre-packaged freeze-dried food. I read 30

trail journals for a year before starting the hike. When I resupplied, I pre-packaged every meal in ziplock bags, put the sealed ziplock bag in a titanium cup with hot water and let it sit. I ate directly out of the zip lock bag. Typically, I was resupplying with other thru-hikers, so I could split the cost of a box of quart Ziploc’s and gallon Ziploc’s." Randy also packed a lightweight stove that ran off a propane canister. It could boil water in 45 seconds. "I never got sick. I avoided shelters, because lots of hikers would get sick from staying in such close quarters. I stayed in one in the Smokies and hated it. There were always tent campsites near the shelters and I didn’t have to plan my hike from shelter to shelter. I could stop when I was ready." On March 21, Randy accomplished one of his goals when he crossed from Georgia into North Carolina, the second of 14 states along the trail. March 24: I’m glad I started with the name Swamprat. They would have named me Klutz after the ankle incident. I would have broken my ankle for sure the other day. I want to give a shout out to Ronnie Dunaway of Slidell’s Who Dat Shop, thank you again for your wonderful pledge to Grant-A-Wish. Your challenge seems to have worked. Citizens Savings Bank matched your pledge. I want to raise that 10K for Grant-A-Wish! March 26: Hiked the 1 mile to the Nantahala Outdoor Center (NOC) to retrieve a bounce box and noticed the right ankle hurting a little from that 15.5 miler yesterday. There were some very steep downhills. So, while here at the NOC, I will take a shower, wash my disgusting clothes in a real washer and dryer, eat some fairly decent food and, yes, even drink a cold

one this evening. What the heck, maybe have a cold one at lunch too! Not only was what Randy did a huge accomplishment, but he also updated a daily online journal, where people could follow along on his journey. Sometimes, this was his only communication with the outside world and even with Dania. He also carried a SPOT messenger that would send a canned message to Dania using satellite technology with his GPS coordinates. Think of it as a ‘last known whereabouts’ beacon. I am happy there are so many friends reading this journal. There are many struggles out here but keep in mind the struggles at home as well. Dania picked up that stomach virus over the weekend and had to have an IV to get herself rehydrated. I felt helpless out here. She said she feels 100% better and for me not to worry. Love you Dania and sorry I wasn't there. Randy began his hike up in to the Smokies. March 31: Today’s climb was fairly intense, but it feels like my legs are getting used to the trail. Now if my feet would only cooperate. After 9 miles, the feet begin to hurt. I was hoping the shelter would fill up, that way I could tent. In the Smokies, you must stay in the shelter if there is room. I will be in the shelter, but I’d much rather tent. If you think about it, there is no way to train for a hike such as the A.T. in Louisiana. I guess you could run over the Oak Harbor overpass or climb Monkey Hill. Although Randy jogged, hiked with a full backpack and used an elliptical at home, nothing could prepare him for the wear and tear on his legs, knees and feet, plus elevation changes.

April 01: Made it to Derrick Knob Shelter, the highest elevation change so far to 5,527 feet - brutal day. The A.T. threw more curve balls than even Randy expected. As a law enforcement officer, he had learned to expect the unexpected. But even so, he did not expect what was about to happen... April 02: Wow, what a day this has been, emotionally and physically. Our son Mark was taken to the hospital overnight and they discovered a blood clot in his upper arm. They were waiting for the Doctor. Here is where things got worse. I was concentrating on my phone, worried sick about Mark. I wasn’t paying attention. I had walked 4.2 miles down the wrong trail. I was able to make a 6.5-mile loop back to the A.T. This entire way, no cell coverage. When I was finally able to call around 2:30, the news wasn’t good. Mark needs to have the blood clot removed surgically the next morning. Here is where I share with you a very emotional moment on my journey. I am 1.5 days out of Gatlinburg and my son has to have this procedure in a little more than 12 hours. I am at a loss of what to do. I can’t get there, it's impossible. Mark assures me that everything is fine. His heart is as big as the man he has become. He tells me, he knows how important the trail is, but I remind him that nothing means as much to me at this moment than to be there with him. I made it to the shelter and called again. Dania said Mark was doing well and in good spirits. We decided the best course of action was to get into Gatlinburg where I would have access to phones, cars or anything else I may need. So here I am in my tent trying again to overcome another obstacle. Don't worry, my next post isn’t any better, however it is clear now what I must do.

April 03: They took Mark into the operating room at 7am. I continued my push into Gatlinburg, keeping in close contact with Dania. About a mile from Clingman's Dome, Dania told me that the procedure went very well. However, Mark will have to have surgery next week to remove the rib that is causing the problem. It's decision time. I have every emotion going that you can imagine. I was mad at myself for being out here, I was worried about Mark, I don't want to give up on my challenge. I look up, across one of the most beautiful views of the entire trip. It doesn’t take but a second - God, family and self come to mind and a calm came over me. I will be on my way home by Saturday. I will spend several days at my son's side. The trail will not beat me. As soon as I know he is ok, Dania will take me back to the Smokies where I will resume my journey north. You can be given many things in life but the ones you achieve are the ones most fulfilling. For this moment, I am doing what is right for my family but don't give up on me for I will be on the trail again by next Saturday. Four days later, Dania picked up Randy. He’s not quitting. He has a plan to attack the trail. After Mark’s surgery, he will spend a couple days to ensure he is okay. Then Dania will bring him back to the trail. He will skip about 70 miles, resuming around Hot Springs, allowing him to continue north with the same group of hikers. (Randy and Dania traveled back years later and completed the skipped 70 miles!) On April 12, Dania drove Randy back to North Carolina to resume his hike where he caught up with fellow thru-hikers, trailnames F100 (owns an F100 truck) and Steady (hikes a fast, steady pace) to continue the trail. He had met the Arkansas couple just before getting off the trail and these two would prove to be an integral part of his

trail journey and lifelong friends. Only a little less than 2000 miles to go! April 15: Dania told me yesterday, when I make my entries, try and be as descriptive as possible so the reader will feel like they are on the trail themselves. So, go get a hammer from your toolbox, pummel the heck out of your feet and knees. Then, wear yesterday’s clothes that you cut the grass in and you now have the smell and the physical well-being while reading today’s journal entry. On April 19, Randy crossed into the state of Tennessee, another state closer to the finish! Remember when you are hiking in such remote areas, there are many dangerous insects, reptiles and animals that you may encounter. You never know what might wander into your campsite. April 20: I was startled this morning at 5:30 by a large animal that walked to within 15 feet of my hammock. It stomped the ground a couple of times then snorted. Sounded somewhat like a deer snorting but when it ran off it sounded heavy and kinda clumsy. Not saying it was a bear, but I may re-think sleeping with my food bag for a while! April 21: A thunderstorm hit us, and the rest of the hike was wet and slippery. I managed to get enough signal to call my favorite logistics officer, Dania. I was just about out of gas. Feet hurt'n, knees hurt'n, just plain old hurt'n. She called, said there was the Iron Mountain Inn. $50 and the owner would pick me up. Great! Now if I could just get off the mountain by 7. I picked up the pace. Caught up with F100 and Steady. When we got to Kinkordia, Ms. Vickie was there waiting on us. She was super nice. She turned her home into a bed and breakfast. I feel somewhat guilty staying here, NOT! Dania, I owe ya!!

April 22: I was treated to a fantastic breakfast. Fresh fruit, bacon, eggs, toast, and some potatoes that I will fix again in the future. Yukon gold potatoes and leeks. Delicious. We are all sitting around waiting on the weather to get better. I hate to do this, but I will have to stay at Ms. Vicky's for one more night. Darn! Back on the trail in the morning.

April 25: Today we hiked through a huge pasture with a herd of cows. Now, me, I look at this as an opportunity to play with the cows. F100 and Steady, they were trying their best to get through the cows without disturbing them!! That ain't no fun!! They got their first glimpse at the kid in Swamprat. I mooowed at them while trying to touch a few.

There’s always terminology with each hobby. Hiking the A.T. is no different. "Slackpacking" is where you empty everything out of your pack except the bare essentials for one hike. No tent, no sleeping bag or hammock, no cell charger. Only pack water, food, and first aid kit. You are still hiking on the A.T. so the mileage counts, but you can make much faster time.

Another hiking term is "Yogi-ing." Definition: Looking hungry enough that people give you food without asking for it!

April 23: Well, woke up this morning to sleet and snow. Ms. Vicky suggested slackpacking Pond Mountain. Said she would drop us off and pick us up. Hmmmmm, cold, snowing and windy. She is offering us another night for 20 bucks each! Slackpack it is. We hiked to Laurel Falls which was great. The snow stopped until we got up into higher elevations. Then it started again. Someone even built a snowman!! 13.2 miles later, we were picked up. I got the heat working for Ms. Vicki at the house. It’s going to freeze tonight. April 24: Woke up this morning in a warm bed. It was about 30° outside. No more slackpacking and sleeping in warm beds, it was making us soft! Started out sunny but breezy. Quickly turned cloudy, cold and downright windy!! Started snowing pretty dang hard for my standards. I want to thank my cousin Tom and wife, Corina, for their pledge of 50 cents a mile for Grant-A-Wish. Also, an old friend, Scott pledged $250 today. It was a great day for Grant-A-Wish. Windy night, gusts of 35 easy. 32

April 29: If you look pitiful enough, you don’t have to do much more. I already look half starved!! Lost 25 pounds so far!! This gentleman asked if I needed some supplies when he realized I was a thru-hiker. He gave me a Coke and then offered some fresh apple cobbler, right out of their Dutch oven. I was not going to be impolite and say no. May 01: Zero day today due to my ankle and hiking through lots of rocks; big ones, small ones, sharp ones, you name it; causing my ankle to roll. May 05: Survived another trail hazard – a falling limb that landed across my hammock ties just before daylight. Came out the woods and found an ice chest that 2011 thru-hiker, Rusty Bumper, had left. He was almost finished the trail when he fell and seriously broke his leg. He had to be rescued by helicopter!! Thank you Rusty Bumper!! May 06: I tried to maneuver a muddy spot but failed and fell head first into the side of a mountain. Face planted and pinned by my pack. I was able to get up. F100 couldn’t stop laughing. May 07: Stayed last night in this so-called campground. The owner let us know that you get what you pay for and for 6 bucks not to expect much. There was a cinder block building that had a shower, with hot

water I might add. A sink with hot and cold water. 6 nails driven into the concrete wall to hang a towel or clothes on. Trust me, if they fell on the floor, just burn them. There was an old towel hanging on one of the nails that needed to be thrown away. Nobody will touch it. I wasn’t putting my stuff near it!! The sink had half a mirror above it. The next room had a washer and dryer. They worked, kinda. The dryer's control knobs were hanging over the top, bare wires and all. I did not sleep well, may have to do with the three 16oz cokes I drank at 7pm with my hamburger. Last month snowing, this month hot and humid. As you might think there are many unique people that you run into on the A.T. May 09: F100 and I sat out front and talked with the legendary Machete Mitch, he likes to carry a machete, and while sharpening it yesterday, he cut the heck out of his thumb. Then you have Craftsman, his toy is a Tomahawk hatchet. He carries it dangling in his waist belt. If he trips he's going to cut something. Well you get the picture!! And then there is Turtle. Turtle's toy I hear is a small handgun; although I have not seen this for myself. Since I typed that, he has walked up, decked out in his army surplus with a S&W 45 strapped to his hip. These guys have stirred up controversy since Georgia. The three seem to be traveling just off the main trail. One is from Alaska, one from Pittsburg and the other, not quite sure. All three are harmless, reminding me of three mischievous kids that eventually get put in time-out. May 11: While hiking today, I thought about the injured hikers that were off the trail. Katie Hikes (feet), Australian newlyweds (dislocated wrist), Barefoot (broken leg), John the German (headed to hospital yesterday with bad cut and possible broken hand).

Tomorrow F100 and Steady spend a couple of days off the trail with friends. Dania will meet me at the southern end of the Shenandoah National Park (SNP) and I will spend three days with her and staying off the feet. During this time F100 and Steady should catch up. I have met two remarkable people that are now lifelong friends. I feel Dania will instantly become friends as I did. I hope to summit Katahdin with them by early September. F100 likes to fish. I have promised him a fishing trip of a lifetime if they drive to Louisiana to visit. May 16: I am close to the halfway point of this journey. I am looking forward to the northern half. WV and PA here I come! Today was one of the best days of the trail and there are many more to come. This has been an incredible journey so far. I am now more confident than ever that I can say ‘when’ and not ‘if’ I summit Katahdin! Dania met up with Randy on May 25 to spend four down days. They drove to Shenandoah National Park Visitor Center where Dania finally met F100 and Steady. May 29: (Shenandoah National Park) I will hike from here with my old partners. I had to say ‘See you later' to Dania. I never tell people good-bye, sounds too permanent. It was emotional for the both of us.

June 02: Finished our 17-mile hike with a meal at the Skyland Lodge. I decided to try and talk the manager into giving us a great deal on a room. I pulled out all the stops. I told her I had shipped my sleeping bag home, (which I did, didn't expect it to drop into the low forties) then asked if she knew about National Trail Day (which it is); the first attempt failed but when I went back for a second attempt she offered a deal we could not refuse. June 07: Hiked into Harper’s Ferry, where we registered as northbound thru-hikers. The A.T. Conservancy took our pictures and assigned us numbers. I was the 386th hiker to come through.

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I am hoping the rain stops allowing us to hang bear bags. I have seen 4 bears in the last two days inside the park. We will be half-way finished soon (two weeks).

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We had about a 2000 ft climb ahead of us, which would take us to the Audie Murphy Memorial. Murphy was the most decorated soldier of World War II, killed in a plane crash near the Memorial. Wonderful tribute! Large stone marker scribed with his medals and a flagpole with the American Flag flying proudly over the Texas state flag. Thanks to all the veterans of our armed forces.

Sabadie & Badeaux

May 13: Three ladies led by Ann Roberts are gracious enough to cook food in Dutch ovens for the thru-hikers. The ovens are stacked on top of one another and have coals on each lid. They baked lasagna, apple crisp, cooked veggies and even grilled quesadillas on the bottom of one of the lids. Delicious. One of them hiked the trail a few years ago at age 58.

Always proud to serve our community.

There are so many wonderful people along the trail who share food with the hikers, aka 'trail magic.’ Another treat is the Annual Hiker Feed, offered twice a year, on Mother’s Day and Memorial Day.

O MPTOMS T

www.PursueWellnessForYou.com Kelly Lutman

Certified Functional Medicine Health Coach

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June 10: While walking, I found a young raven that apparently attempted his first flight out the nest and landed on the ground. I picked him up. He tried to fly but just floated to the ground. Guess you can say I was help'n him with his flying lessons. Momma raven was not happy. She was doing some fussin’ in the tree above me, so I decided to leave the young guy alone and move on. Just call me the bird whisperer!! June 11: Yesterday, we met a father and son (trail names Shadow and Spider) hiking the section from Harper’s Ferry to Duncannon, PA. The son is about 13 years old and never complains. We called a local pizza place, told them we had 5 hungry hikers, but we needed a ride. Five hikers are one thing, but 5 backpacks are a challenge. They picked up and returned us. All the restaurants have been extremely accommodating. June 14: We officially crossed the midway point! There was a fancy sign that had 1090.5 miles north to Katahdin and 1090.5 miles south to Springer. Today hikers will participate in the half-gallon challenge. The competitive ones will try to eat a half-gallon of ice cream faster than fellow hikers. I

finished mine in amazing speed - 9 minutes! F100 in 29 minutes and Spider, well, he did amazing hiking today. 19.7 miles with full pack. No complaints!!! Good job Spider; but I did beat ya in the ice cream challenge!! Nobody beats Swamprat in an ice cream challenge!! After eating the ice cream, I ate a hamburger, fries and two Cokes. June 15: Today I am not motivated at all. I need to set a short-term goal for myself. Till this point I have had milestones to look forward to such as getting out of GA, entering the Smoky Mountains, hitting VA, sitting on McAfee Knob, The Shenandoah’s, the halfway point, the HalfGallon Challenge (oh, by the way, did I say, in 9 minutes!). Now I am hiking north with Katahdin in mind. I need a short-term goal. So, getting through PA is a good challenge. Many hikers drop out at the half-way mark for many reasons. Some are tired (me), some are okay with making it 1090 miles (me), many have injuries at this point (me, rolled the bad ankle twice the past 24 hrs.), let's add homesick to the equation (me). Now you can begin to understand why this is an exit area. Yes, people have come so far to stop but

there are still over 1000 miles to go and the only way to get there is by walking. I can surely understand why people drop out. Congrats to them for making it this far. I know how tough it was. Randy and Dania had a plan. If he called day 1 or day 2 and said come get him, she should tell him no. If he called on day 3, she should definitely come get him. He called Dania that evening. … From his journal: I told her, look I made it half-way. I’ve walked 1100 miles, not many people can say that. I think I’m good. I think I’m gonna get a ride into town tomorrow and come on home. Dania convinced Randy to wait and think it over. When he finished talking to Dania, he returned to his tent, where a neighboring camper had ventured over with a cold six pack of beer. The two sat around the campfire sharing beers and tales of the trail. By morning, Randy's resolve to finish the trail was strengthened. He knew there would be trying times ahead, but he refused to quit. Stay tuned next month for the second half of Police Chief Randy Fandal's Appalachian Trail journey!

Chief Randy Fandal & Mayor Freddy Drennan’s 15th Annual

WILD GAME • SEAFOOD • BBQ

COOK-OFF FRITCHIE PARK • 11AM-4PM LIVE MUSIC BY CYPRESS POP TRIO

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 6, 2018 SILENT AUCTIONS • KIDS ZONE • RAFFLE

COOKING TEAM ENTRIES STILL AVAILABLE!

Proceeds to benefit Community Christian Concern

TICKETS AVAILABLE AT www.CCCcookoff.org

A Taste of Olde Towne THURSDAY, OCTOBER 11 VINTNER DINNERS Chateau Bleu, Restaurant Cote' & The Wine Garden Read menus with paired wines online Call restaurants for reservations

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 12 GRAND TASTING 7 - 9PM East St. Tammany Chamber, 1808 Front Street Over 60 wines, light bites & a signature wine glass under the big tent Live Entertainment by Christy & the Rascals! $45 per person

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 13 PREMIUM TASTING 5 - 7PM The Wine Garden, 300 Robert Street PROCEEDS TO BENEFIT OLDE TOWNE SLIDELL MAIN STREET DISTRICT IMPROVEMENT PROJECTS

Our fine wine tasting, hors d'oeuvres, plus a signature wine glass Limited to 100 attendees! Live Entertainment by Ronnie Kole! $55 per person

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 14 CHAMPAGNE JAZZ BRUNCH 11AM - 1PM Chateau Bleu, 106 West Hall Ave. Enjoy a delicious brunch, champagne & mimosas Limited seating by reservation 985.641.1610 Live Jazz by Steppin Up $50 per person

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GO BEYOND

LABOR DAY

Best and Worst Jobs By Rose Marie Sand

In 1894, the powers-that-be proclaimed a federal holiday named Labor Day, midway between the Fourth of July and Thanksgiving, falling on the first Monday in September. Several other countries celebrate a Labor Day on May Day, May 1st; but, for the US, it’s the unofficial end of summer celebration. The organizers of the first Labor Day were interested in creating an event that brought different types of workers together to meet each other and recognize their common interests. All of which got me to thinking about my best and worse jobs. Which isn’t a very difficult thing to figure out - I’ve been fired as a legal secretary, started a couple of businesses, detailed cars, and retired from one career only to start another. Kind of your typical been up and down and over and out semi-retiree.

Pyrotechnic Assistant My hands-down worst job was as an assistant to a pyrotechnic company. I romanticized what setting up fireworks would be like for most of my adult life, even though I’d had a firework go off in my hand when I was a kid and never lit one since. I love watching fireworks, though, so I figured helping set up a display would be cool. You’d have thought I’d know better. It was backbreaking, dangerous, and we were working outdoors in a thunderstorm. We set the charges according to a predesigned script, and we covered them as we went along with tarps in the hopes the rain would stop and the show would go on. Because of the rain, and probably my 38

slow pace, it took our team twice as long to set them up as usual. The rain stopped all right, but the big payoff - watching the fireworks I’d carefully helped set up - didn’t happen. The whole thing got the kibosh because it was late and they were to be set off near a residential neighborhood. So, instead of picking up the debris from fired fireworks, we had to disassemble everything to load it back in the truck. In the dark. Not exactly the big finish. Never again. So I’ve turned to my fellow staff of Slidell Magazine for their stories of their worst jobs. See if any of these make you feel better about your working conditions.

Hotel Cleaning Dawn Rivera has some stories that beat mine. She was once a cleaning woman at a hotel and learned how to “make a room look clean without really cleaning it.” She had to deal with the largest spider she’d ever seen in the wild, and a trash can full of vomit. You win on the vomit alone part, Dawn.

Admin Office

lady. The recovering addict that over sugared the three pots of coffee he drank a day. The Nerd with a fancy degree. The international. The ladies man who wore a three piece suit and always looked like he just left the barber shop. The mean HR lady. The obese woman that would scratch her eczema ON HER STOMACH in your office. #SkinFlakes.” There was the woman who’d open the mail with yellow rubber gloves, a scarf or handkerchief over her mouth during the Anthrax scares. “She also brought in a ham from home… from Christmas …it was June.” But the most memorable character was a guy with foul breath, foul temper, and smelled like the “crust of a cheap cologne bottle - ya know the kind that comes in a boot shape.” Yet certainly your skills at observing these characters served you well, Dawn.

Tank Cleaning

Our financial columnist, Mike Rich, will always remember a summer job he had when he was in college.

But Dawn says that her absolute worst stories came from the “insane characters” she worked with at an admin office.

“I worked for a company that manufactured paints and industrial coatings, and my partner and I were responsible for cleaning the tanks in which raw materials were stored. Just two teenagers, alone on the fifth floor of the factory, pretty much unsupervised. We took turns cleaning the tanks.”

“There was every kind of strange character there that you can imagine. The stinky

May not sound too bad, until you consider the conditions of that job description.

“One of us (wearing an air mask) would climb down into the tank to chip away at the residue on the bottom, using brass tools to suppress sparks. The other guy stayed on top of the tank to make sure the guy down below didn’t pass out. After about 15 minutes, we’d switch places (donning the same air mask, which was dripping with sweat). Every now and then, our boss would come and check on us, I guess to make sure we were still alive.” This job took place in a factor that was not air conditioned, in 90 degree heat. “If the people at OSHA, which had just recently been established, were aware of what we were doing, they never let us know.” But Mike’s life experience has also led him to appreciate and create his best job. “The best job I’ve ever had is the one I have now: helping people make smart decisions about their money so they can have financial independence.”

numbing or menial, perform a service to society and to your future. Kendra’s experience speaks volumes to the fact that the best jobs teach you life skills. Here’s where stories of our best jobs are born.

Typist

The first paying job of one’s career is also a memorable one - and often very low paying. I kept a check stub for $15.03 from my very first job, typing letters for the School Board when I was still in high school. I was a pretty fast typist, a fact that took me into the world of secretaries. I learned pretty quickly that secretary-ing wasn’t for me, and the best thing I learned about typing quickly was an ability to maneuver a computer keyboard in years to come!

Market Researcher Waitress Kendra Maness, Editor and owner of our Slidell Magazine, says the job that impacted her life the most was being a market researcher in Northshore Square Mall in the late 80’s/early 90’s. “I was one of those girls with a clipboard who would take surveys from people as they walked past. I was GREAT at this job! It helped me become outgoing and unafraid, honed my speaking skills, and taught me to be a self-motivator.” Now that’s what I call a great job! And that experience was also impactful because of the mentor who owned the research center. “My elderly boss was a female entrepreneur who owned multiple research centers across the state, long before the days of Women’s Rights. She taught me so much about work ethic and overcoming obstacles. I truly believe that I would never have had the confidence to start Slidell Magazine without the life lessons and skills I learned from this job.” Perhaps the best take away from low level entry jobs are to consider them opportunities that, no matter how mind

For Crimi-Mommly Insane columnist Leslie Gates, her first paying job also gave her insights to her heart’s desire. Her first paid job lasted one day, as a thirteen-yearold, waitressing at a local restaurant - at Mardi Gras! “It scared me to death! My 14 year old friend, who’d gotten me the job, said, 'It's gonna be BAD.'" People were everywhere: Leslie could barely walk through the crowd and had no idea how to take orders, process payments and deliver orders. “I thought I might just die. Right there. Was kinda hoping on it honestly. But, because I didn't randomly die, I forced myself to a table.” When another waitress dropped a plate, Leslie rushed to help her and cut herself. The boss showed up, took one look at her bleeding hand, and fired Leslie. “I walked a mile home, leaving all of those drunk parade goers behind, along with a big mess for those poor workers to clean up.”

Yet Leslie learned important lessons that day. “Meeting people I was meant to meet, learning personal lessons, and finding certain strengths within myself that I never knew I had. Ones that definitely make up for the complete failure of my one day job; which, according to my friend, was all figured out without any further 'help' from me.” Leslie isn’t the only one of our staff with a challenging first job story to tell. John Case, the ultimate Storyteller, shared this one...

Chicken Farm Worker “In the 1960’s there were few summer jobs for teenagers.” At 16, John bought an old pickup truck with a rusty body for $300 - basic transportation and a chance to have his first “good paying job.” “My dad had a cousin who owned a commercial chicken farm, housing thousands of chickens with a conveyor belt running under the cages to catch the droppings. "One week, the drivers of the waste truck from Baton Rouge who picked up the manure went on strike. No manure pickup. The pile was growing in size and stench daily.” John’s cousin called and asked if he would load and unload the nasty droppings - at the whopping payment of $7 per truck load! He was also to spread it in a nearby farmer’s field. “I also found out that some of the ladies in town wanted to use it for fertilizer in their flower beds. They would give me $10 a load. Now I was making $51 a day! I hired a helper which allowed me to deliver five loads per day rather than three. I was now grossing $85 per day. I paid the helper $10 so I was netting $75. Not bad for a sixteen-year-old kid in 1963. I had little expenses as I was burning illegal farm gas in the truck and it only cost $.10 per gallon.” Perhaps John’s entrepreneurial ways foretold his success in business. Then he learned another lesson... “It was late July and it had not rained in about thirty days. A very wealthy, prominent lady called and asked for a load of chicken manure. We delivered it and spread it around her azaleas.” 39

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The lady then ordered more manure - again and again. Although they warned her this was “fresh manure and very strong” she insisted. And then, the rains finally came. A frantic call brought them to the house the next day and they were not prepared for what they saw.

THE OFFICIAL MAGAZINE OF SLIDELL

Vol. 90 January 2018

Vol. 91 February 2018

“Every plant in her flower bed looked like they had been dead for a month. The stems on the azaleas had turned clear. She called all her friends. I was out of business.”

Start-up Business My personal best job was working with my husband to start up a business we called Sand Graphic and Design. The company was his dream, and soon became my own.

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(I’d already tanked as a legal secretary, and the joys of making my own hours and building something with my husband was far and away right for me.) I learned the ins and outs of screen printing and computer graphic design. I learned about things like color separations, making film positives, and even how to keep the company books. Okay, maybe I wasn’t great at that bookkeeping part but I learned from that, too - hire someone who loves math. I learned how to market to customers and keep them happy. Those were skills that helped me overcome a lifetime of shyness, yet they came naturally.

INSURANCE AGENCY

I also learned time management skills. The discipline of making deadlines came naturally, too.

For All Your Insurance Needs

Not long before Katrina, those skills helped me partner in a theatrical production company, and to become a freelance writer for the Times Picayune.

WIND AND HAIL DEDUCTIBLES TOO HIGH?

Maybe that’s what is most important about the jobs we hold, the opportunities we create through them. They show us how to find that proverbial silver lining in any cloud.

LET’s TALK ABOUT YOUR HOMEOWNER’S COVERAGE TODAY!

My husband used to tell young people a recipe for a good life was to figure out what kind of lifestyle you want to have, and to find something you love to do that fits that goal. Time and time again in my employment career, I’ve seen that goal realized. So, now, in my so-called retirement, this career as a writer and artist, put former skills to work with a lifestyle that gives me the opportunity to talk to you each month in this column.

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3412 Pontchartrain Drive

And though perhaps full time retirement will someday be in my future, it will be with the knowledge that all these conversations may continue through the people I’ve met along the way and our commons interests. Which was exactly the lifestyle I’ve always wanted.

REWRITE YOUR LIFE JOURNEY By Very Reverend W.C. Paysse, V.F. Pastor, Our Lady of Lourdes Church

Dear Friends, The month of September reminds us that summer vacation is over. School is back in session, and it’s time to focus on reading, writing and arithmetic. Yes, school bells can be heard throughout our neighborhoods, yellow school buses zip in and out of our streets like bumble bees and crossing guards direct the flow of traffic, protecting the pedestrian and driver. Like many of our churches here in Slidell, we are starting to share and highlight our worship services, events and activities for the fall season. We want everyone to feel welcome to take part in the variety of ministries, events and special occasions, especially here at Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Church. We continue to expand our mission and ministries to “welcome all as Christ” (St. Benedict). It is our goal to better communicate with the Slidell community in a more comprehensive way through technology and social media.

We also believe in the personal invitation by word of mouth, too! Like all Christian Churches we want to extend the hand of Jesus Christ to those who are searching for a fuller meaning of life. We particularly want to minister to the lonely, confused, depressed or those simply stressed out with the day-to-day responsibilities and obligations of an active family life and work. The world today can be challenging and confusing, but it doesn’t have to be this way. Jesus, the Prince of Peace, our Savior, has entered history and invites all to follow Him. He died on the cross over two thousand years ago to save us from our sins. His death has given eternal life to all who claim Him as their Savior. To grow in the spiritual life, Christians believe that we must have a personal relationship with the Lord. Today, reflect in your heart about your life. What do you see? How do you feel? What do you desire for you and your family?

What steps must be taken to move from a life of over extending oneself to a life of balance and calmness? Perhaps you have difficulty praying or being still and quiet? Invite Jesus into your heart at this moment and ask for His help, His direction and grace. Accept Jesus as your Savior, and you will soon feel the moving of the Holy Spirit in your life. Surely, a new direction will be given to you from above! So, unlike ordinary reading, writing and arithmetic -- which is important -- read the signs in your life from the Lord, allow Jesus to rewrite your life journey, and calculate not with numbers but with prayer, grace and faith. Remember, a fulfilled life begins always first with God. Give your life to Christ and ask Jesus to help you. Know that Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Church stands ready to assist you on your spiritual journey towards Christ. Let us pray for one another, and let us praise the Lord with the angels and saints. Amen. September Blessings,

SEPTEMBER EVENTS 09/01 First Saturday Devotions begin with 8:30am Mass at Church. Confessions follow. 09/05 RCIA Inquiry Session (those interested in learning about the Catholic Religion), 7-8:30pm, Parish Life Center 09/06 Little Rock Scripture Study, 12:30-2pm and 7-8:30pm, Parish Life Center. 09/12 RCIA Inquiry Session, 7-8:30pm Parish Life Center. Knights of Columbus Golf Tournament, Oak Harbor. For info, call 985-646-0110. 09/19 RCIA Inquiry Session, 7-8:30pm, Parish Life Center. 09/20 Men’s Club meeting, 7pm, Gym. Complimentary meal served. All men are welcome! 09/22 Men’s Club Fishing Rodeo. For info, call 985-643-4137. 09/29 OLL FIRST ANNUAL WOMEN’S SUMMIT. All women are welcome! 9am-Noon. Meet & Greet, Gym, 9am. Church, 10am. For info, call 985-643-4137. 09/30 IMPACT YOUTH MASS, 5:30pm, Church. All youth 10+ are welcome!

Very Reverend W.C. Paysse, V.F. Pastor

non-profit ASSISTANCE - STORY & PHOTOS BY DONNA BUSH

Editor's Note: This month, we continue our 12-part series covering the amazing work being done by Louisiana heroes in the aftermath of the 2017 hurricanes and natural disasters. Slidell Magazine's award-winning writer and photographer, Donna Bush, has spent months travelling with multiple Louisiana-based organizations and volunteers, documenting their missions in the affected areas and those whose lives they've impacted. We share an unfortunate kinship with these survivors. We know all too well that disaster recovery is a slow and painful process. We are proud to showcase the volunteer efforts of our fellow Louisianians.

Over the last ten months, I’ve shared stories about some amazing organizations that provided hurricane relief. This month, I want to tell you about the efforts of two non-profit organizations that have been in our area for years. The ‘Dawn Busters’ Kiwanis Club of Metairie is just one example. Kiwanis is a global organization of volunteers in over 80 countries, providing services within the communities. Each chapter, or club, operates independently of others. Per Dave Massey, President-Elect, ‘Dawn Busters’ is one of the most active clubs in our area with approximately 198 members. They provide 300+ meals weekly to the homeless at Lantern Light. Their ‘Rewards for Reading Program’ is so innovative at encouraging children to get excited about reading, that their president was invited to The White House for recognition of their club’s program as one of the best in the nation. They sponsor seven different high school Key Clubs, two junior high Builders Clubs, a UNO Circle K Club, plus an Action Club for handicapped adults. I could go on and on about their fantastic programs but let me tell you how they assisted with hurricane and flood relief. In the aftermath of the Baton Rouge flooding, members gutted homes, pulled up flooring

and offered other flood related assistance. With Hurricane Harvey, they planned to offer similar services to Texas residents. As soon as the Hurricane came ashore, their Key Clubs and Builders Clubs began collecting relief supplies. Everything you could think of - canned goods, toilet paper, cleaning supplies, water, diapers, and more. Then the dilemma of how to transport everything to Texas. They emptied their cooking trailer and loaded it with the collected supplies. In addition to the completely full trailer, they filled two pick-up trucks and three SUVs. The caravan pulled out after work on a Friday evening arriving in South Houston late that night. Awaking early Saturday morning, they discovered the best way they could help was to organize the Oak Meadows Church distribution center for supplies. Not only did the location have all the ‘Dawn Busters’ supplies, but 18-wheeler semis were rolling in several times a week to offload more. Everything was needed, but there was no organization to it. Items needed to be sorted and organized so they could be efficiently distributed to those in need. This was precisely the area where the ‘Dawn Busters’ could offer the most helpful assistance. They established a distribution system that allowed the church

A CONTINUING COVERAGE SERIES FROM DONNA BUSH PART 11 OF 12 to more quickly disseminate materials. Each homeowner would receive a box of food, a box of cleaning supplies and home cooked meals for their family. My second organization is a little different from most I’ve shared. It is a local Slidell organization with 95% of their aid going to St. Tammany Parish residents, but they occasionally assist other nearby parishes, Baton Rouge and Ocean Springs. The organization I’m referencing is Northshore Disaster Recovery Incorporated (NDRI), located behind Aldersgate United Methodist Church in Slidell. They were formed during Hurricane Katrina as a 501(c)3 long term recovery organization (LTRO). Per FEMA, NDRI is the longest standing LTRO in the nation. This is because we suffered several hurricane / flooding scenarios in 2005 and a few more since then. Their applicants must have first attempted their homeowner’s insurance, flood insurance, FEMA, local state programs, SBA loan, etc. and received nothing. As we all know, this process can take years. After this ordeal, they fall into the unmet needs category. Executive Director Jim Fatic shared, “We get calls on a weekly basis from people who are still recovering from Katrina.” A lady recently called who had lost everything in Katrina and had been sofa-hopping with family and friends since the storm. Her home was still in need of repair. They were able to get her back in her home in July of this year for the first time in 13 years! In 2008, they created Epworth Project, as a multi-denominational faith-based volunteer organization. This formation allowed them to address needs that weren’t directly related to a hurricane for low-income and elderly. They only help those with unmet needs. Per Jim, “Louisiana is in the top 3 and bottom 3 of a lot of lists that you don’t want to be on, such as household income, economic disparity, poverty and deep poverty levels. 27.8% of children in Louisiana live at or below the poverty level. St. Tammany Parish has a lot of issues before you even look at receiving 4 feet of water in your home.” With more clients than they can serve, their waiting list contains 300+ families hoping

that someday funding will show up. Some of these are from Katrina, but in some cases, life has been the disaster. A recent phone call came from a lady with three daughters whose husband abandoned his family. She was recently diagnosed with brain cancer and could no longer keep her home. Her only family was an alcoholic mother and a drug-addict uncle. They moved in together to have a roof over their heads. The uncle shot himself and the alcoholic mother skipped town. The house was still a crime scene from the uncle and a long-time party house from the alcohol and drugs. Walls were punched in. Windows knocked out. She still had 3 daughters to raise while going through chemo and radiation. Through Epworth Project, they were able to go in, repair the house and help her out. All repairs and needs were issues that no government program or insurance would cover. She’s doing great now. “On an average week, we receive 15-20 calls for assistance. Calls range from a limb went through the living room window or I have a roof leak and the ceiling is starting to cave in. Most of the people calling now cannot point to any specific disaster. The issues are more a result of deferred maintenance. The problem may have started small and could have been an inexpensive fix, but instead they chose food on the table rather than repair.”

“A lady living nearby is raising her three grandchildren because of a domestic situation – her son was murdered and her daughter is in prison. She has a serious heart condition.” Jim arrived for an assessment. “It’s a trailer and there is very little or no siding, with sheets hung up to keep people from seeing in and holes in the floor where it has rotted." As they walked through the house, she pulled Jim aside and said, "Please save my 12-year-old grandson." He would crawl out his room through a hole in the wall and stay out till 2 or 3 am. She was afraid he was getting into drugs or gangs. The group fixed the walls, the roof, the floors and made the place livable again. Several of their volunteer groups adopted the family – buying furniture, linens, and sending them money for groceries monthly. She called Jim about a week after the work was completed to tell him that her 12-year-old grandson found a tablecloth in her closet, placed it on the dining room table, picked wildflowers for a vase, put it on the table and for the first time in almost ten months was home for dinner! Jim adds, "What an amazing difference flooring, walls, and pride in your home can make.” Since its inception, the Epworth Project has had about 63,000 volunteers, from 50 states and 43 countries, come through their program. These volunteers have donated a little more than 2.6 million labor hours to rebuild more than 3300 homes. How can you help? They desperately need financial contributions. They also need skilled trade personnel for jobs such as electricians, plumbers and AC/heating work, plus skilled construction site managers. This 12-part series was to keep the nation's national disasters alive in everyone’s mind, but what we can still help out our own community! Please donate or volunteer your trained skills at www.epworthproject.com. I’ve shared with you two valuable organizations that excel at helping people in our community and others. Stay tuned for the last in our 12-part series next month.

Crimi-Mommly INSANE ie Gates

Lesl Story by

"CONTINUING DOWN THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED" Here’s a long riddle: A small group of people traveling together in the convoy of life, each on their own individual path, accepting and loving one another no matter what. Good or bad. Sometimes, needing to pass them in the left lane to get where you must go, or, the right lane, while flipping the bird, wondering when they are going to figure it out. Yet, each genuinely caring for the other, quick to speak up when someone is making bad decisions, then celebrating them when they get back in the correct lane. Finding the right words to communicate in that person’s language, so that they will understand. And visa versa. Even if it takes a while. Staying at a comfortable speed for both drivers, until the message is heard. Because they matter. And you love them. They are sometimes friends, not always blood, but will find a way to come together, especially when life gets SCARY. Yep, you guessed it… Family. 44

Continuing down the road less traveled from last month’s article, aboard a vintage sailboat, one of the eight Airbnb vacation sleepovers with my family, was a “Rustic Cabin” in the woods by the river. Stop number seven while working our way back to Slidell. In the online photo, it appeared quaint. PEACEFUL. Somewhere my family needed to experience together for some calming one-on-one time. Maybe taking a trail to the river below, playing board games, or making a picnic in the grass while the dog ran free. Your imagination could run WILD with the possibilities of this place! I could tell it was the most basic of the eight stops, without running water or electricity, but, we had a solid roof over our head. And, a floor. What more do you need? There was the option of a generator, but it was more money, and, just like camping, all we really needed were flashlights and a place to lay our heads. Following the owner’s directions, we turned down a long, narrow, dirt road, stopping at a locked metal gate. It

was secured with a combination lock box which held the key to open the gate. Taking us longer than expected to arrive, it was already turning dark. We hurried, quickly rolling the metal lock to each instructed number. When the box opened, my husband grabbed a small, strange looking key, and attempted to put it in the keyhole, but, it wasn’t going in. My son tried too. It STILL wasn’t going in. How in the world did the owner, who was far away from us on his own vacation, put the wrong damn key in there?! And what were we going to do now! Out in the middle of nowhere! IN THE DARK! Getting a flashlight and looking in the keyhole, they realized why the key was so short and weird. Because the other half of it was broken off inside. We found some needle-nosed plyers, attempting to grab and turn the broken-off part. One of our kids nervously paced around the truck, mumbling under his breath. He had already decided, from the website’s explanation, that he hated this place.

Now, he hated it even more. Good thing he didn’t know about the generator option. Feeling nervous myself, I told the kids to get back in the truck. It was now completely dark outside on this middle-of-nowhere dirt road, and, we were all out of ideas. Trying to get a signal to call the owner, even though nothing could be done from where he was anyway, I noticed the gate swing open. Brian had simply unscrewed the metal ring from the wooden post. The one that was holding the locked chain on. Cheering at him out the window while driving through the gate, my imagination did this really funny thing. It was like... “Hey. Leslie. Someone must have RECENTLY tried getting back here, because the owner would have noticed the broken key when he left yesterday. And, why did that screw come out so easily? Maybe because it wasn’t the first time it’s been done? Hmmmmmm?” Brian was proud of his heroic action because now we didn’t have to sleep in the truck. But, I was starting to wish we were. Continuing this questionable drive down the dirt road, I quietly brought up my concern to him.

“Wasn’t that kinda strange? “What do you mean?” “I mean, maybe someone broke the key off TODAY, then, unscrewed the screw like you did. And, maybe they are back here somewhere.” “Naaaahhhh. Although, the screw did come out pretty easily.” “Shit.” “I was thinking more along the lines of what proof these Airbnb owners are supposed to provide to confirm they aren’t serial killers. Especially in such remote places.” “Double shit.” The dirt road narrowed more and more as we kept driving. It was pitch black, and very eerie. We passed an old run-down cabin that sat to the right. The doors and windows were missing, and the roof had fallen in some. A little further down, another door-less, window-less cabin, that, from the headlights, showed graffiti on the inside walls and a dirty mattress on the floor. There was an awkward silence. The seconds leading up to all the other arrivals, the kids always got louder. Sillier. Not this time. They, like us, were SCARED TO DEATH.

Once we finally reached the end of the creepiest road EVER, there sat OUR HOME. Brian looked at me. “OH. MY. GOD.” It was a cabin straight out of a horror film. Completely dark, a plywood front porch with an old rocking chair that was about to start rocking by itself any second, and above that, a crooked handmade “Welcome” sign with two real animal skulls sitting on top of it. I let out a nervous laugh. “Quaint. Right?” Poorly validating my horrible choice. We all jumped out holding flashlights. The kids were glued to our side. Our pacing, mumbling teenager blurts out an, “Oh HELL no!” throwing his hands in the air and shooting me a look like I was the worst mother ever. Instead of reprimanding him for his disrespect and use of language, I put my finger over his mouth and shushed him while nervously looking around, secretly afraid that the killer might hear us. Our other son, not even knowing my and Brian’s REAL thoughts about this place, says, “Yep. We’re dead.” And our daughter was clinging to my leg, looking up at me with the most fearful sounding, “Mom? Mommy? MOM!?” I had ever heard.

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Both boys and I had already collected a weapon of choice (a stick, a rock, and a wrench, I believe) before heading up the front steps of this Friday the 13th scenario. The only difference is, in Friday the 13th, there are MANY occupied cabins for Jason to choose from. Not just one. And Jason is fictional. Serial killers and drug addicts that break into places to sleep on dirty mattresses and spray graffiti, are not. Our teenager was now getting a “fear attitude” towards me, saying, “I am SO mad at you Mom! Why didn’t you pay extra for the generator! This is the worst vacation ever!” He had obviously heard mention on the generator somewhere along the way. Brian was doing something that seemed important, but I was too scared to notice. My daughter was still holding on to me. The screen door creaked open while making the metal springs pop, giving us yet another creepy “welcome” to our nightmare on dirt street. Scanning the inside with our flashlights, we see 2 makeshift beds with no sheets, a half-wall running down the middle of the open room with a pointless door in it, and about 50 unlit candles in various shapes and sizes spread about. The boys walked through the pointless door while I chose to walk around the wall, injecting a little humor to calm what we feared was behind the strange addition in the center of the room. A torture contraption maybe? The owner, aka, serial killer? The bodies? To our relief, it was only another bed. Above the bed, a window. At this point, I felt safe enough to start lighting candles. It only took about 10 seconds before a kid panicked again and I no longer felt we were safe. The wall with the window had writing all over it. Mostly signatures from all the victims before us, but, right above the window was this… 46

Just like THAT.

“I AM THE MONSTER THAT REACHES THROUGH THE WINDOW AT NIGHT.” That was it. All I needed. Our daughter was now crying. Our son continued to bitch about the generator, but louder now. Because, you know, fear. Ready to throw in the towel and give into everyone’s fears, I tell Brian, “Come on. Let’s go find a hotel or something," thinking he would totally be on board with it. Nope. Sometime between my and the kids little fear huddle and quick scan of the shack, he had already strapped a handgun to his side, grabbed a buttload of firewood and stacked it all professional-like, and had the first flame going. With the dog by his side to alert him of any strange noises, and because he is deaf in one ear, he was also preparing a place over the fire to cook our dinner. Quicker than you could spell the words “run for your life,” we had a HUGE bonfire that lit up the outside of the shack and many candles that lit up the inside. Immediately, the fear cast changed for the kids and me. We felt pretty darn safe. TOTALLY PROTECTED.

After our dinner around the fire, we told ghost stories. GHOST STORIES! Could you imagine the idea of that happening before? Someone would have gotten punched! When this pretty unexpected family experience started to die down, the kids all made their way into the cabin by themselves, where we could hear them talking quietly. I left the fire for a sec, walking closer to the front window so I could spy a bit. They were on the same bed, talking about what kids talk about, and getting along. For like TWO HOURS! I also overheard some comments that gave me the understanding that they were willing to protect one another when that monster reaches through the window later. While conversating by the fire with Brian for a long time (with zero interruptions I must add), I got up and walked behind the cabin with my flashlight. I just, well… had a feeling. Directly behind the cabin, about 50 meters into the woods, I realized my instinct was TOTALLY correct. I SAW IT. Taking a deep breath, I worked my way to it, keeping a watchful eye all around me, knowing all that we had just been through. Reaching down, I pulled up a blue tarp. It couldn’t be! It just couldn’t! Yet, it was. Underneath the blue tarp was… THE GENERATOR. I could have easily been blamed for this nightmare of a stop. Actually, I was, because I rented the place. But blame alone simply would’ve gotten us nowhere. Neither would the generator. It was the action that made the difference. Brian pushing past his own fears for the greater good of his family, naturally allowing the kids to feel safe enough to have each others' backs.

The hard road with your family is what will bring you closer. Not necessarily the easy way out… functioning off of fear. We were gonna split and give up. Walk away and leave it behind. But it only took one strong person to see the scary situation and take the steps that changed the outcome. A lot of people don’t think they have the cahonas to do that. But, when the situation becomes overwhelming, they will either find it or choose to become a victim. Reading that writing on the wall that tells them the situation is impossible. Just give up. Just give in. That even if you try your hardest to be strong, that monster is still going to come through the window. DON’T BELIEVE IT. Be like brave children, making a plan to defeat the monster. It could be another member of the family that steps out to save the day, but other times, it must be us. Knowing what negative vibe we bring

to the table (because we all do) is a hard truth. Changing the way we view the fear that is on that road in front of us, could be what prevents a total wreck. Look, I love my family. ALL of them. And there have been many times throughout my own life that I have driven too slow in the fast lane as they patiently waited for me to figure it out. Or rode up on the median at 150 miles an hour, when all they wanted to do was get my attention, so they could hop in with me, listen to some music, and let me know they were still there. I may never travel at that comfortable speed, but I know I am trying. It’s a hard truth to realize that you put loved ones at risk while navigating through your own life. We don’t mean to. But it’s never too late to make it right. To learn from it. To just put that fear aside and take the road less traveled.

If I had a marker at the time, this is what I would have written on that wall… Even if the road is long and scary, NOTHING will come through here that we can’t handle. (PS: The generator is 50 yards behind this wall, just in case). Fight for your family. And if you don’t feel capable, then calm your fears and allow them to fight for you if they are willing to reach out. Fear causes anger, and anger allows the monster in. Kick his ass and tell him he is WEAK. Then wake up in the morning as the sun is shining through the trees… when all the scary stuff is behind you… And be proud of all that you fought through to get there.

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