July/Aug 2018 Volume 13, Issue 4
magazine
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Introducing RECEIPTS
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magazine TIFFANY BYRAM
Owner/Publisher/Editor/Graphics/Layout
VICKI CASKEY Sales Manager FEATURE WRITERS
Heather McWhorter Bailey Kimberly Blaker Tiffany Byram Sara McDaniel Melanie Massey Groves, Brian Russell, & Summer Powell of MOCO
JENNY REYNOLDS Founder
Office Phone: 504.390.2585 Ad Sales: 318.548.2693 Address: P.O. Box 961, Belle Chasse, LA 70037
6 Your Sweet Spot in Life
Melanie Massey Groves, Brian Russell, & Summer Powell of MOCO
10 Back Porch Bed Swing
Sara McDaniel of Simply Southern Cottage
14 Last Bits of Summer
Photography by Callie Jo Photography Hair & Makeup by Callie Coe 2019 CJP Senior Squad includes students from North Webster, Minden, Airline, Magnolia, Haynesville, Summerfield, and Texarkana.
17 Unwritten Rules Tiffany Byram 18 Peach Salad, Bacon Peach Jam
Heather McWhorter Bailey Winnie Griggs Wesley Harris Sara McDaniel Jason McReynolds MoCo Rachel Pardue Melissa Caldwell Teutsch Rosemary Thomas
Grilled Cheese with Prosciutto & Brie Heather McWhorter Bailey of Social Bites
22 Summer Kindness Challenge Kimberly Blaker
FIND US ONLINE!
For a list of locations near you, or to catch up on past issues, like us on Facebook or visit
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The Minute Magazine is distributed throughout Caddo, Bossier, Claiborne, Bienville, Ouachita, Webster, & Lincoln Parishes in Louisiana. They are FREE for you to enjoy. Take some to your friends, relatives or anyone else who needs a refreshing, enlightening “minute.� Copyright 2018. All rights reserved. No part of this magazine may be copied or reproduced without permission. The Minute Magazine cannot be responsible for unsolicited materials. The editorial content of The Minute is prepared in accordance with the highest standards of journalistic accuracy. Readers are cautioned, however, not to use any information from the magazine as a substitute for expert opinion, technical information or advice. The Minute cannot be responsible for negligent acts, errors and omissions. The opinions expressed in The Minute are those of our writers and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher. The publisher has the right to accept or reject any advertising and / or editorial submitted.
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ife, like baseball, is full of highs and lows. Strike outs and home runs. Mistakes and perfect plays. Did you know that a great hitter is only successful 3 out of every 10 times? That's a lot of failure. True success in life is measured in much the same way. It's not about how many times you fail, it's about how well you continue. Get up, brush yourself off, reset, and hit the grand slam. Our greatest triumphs come after some of our hardest falls. This issue of the magazine focuses on finding ways to improve both yourself and the lives of those around you, using some of the unwritten rules of baseball as a guide. Make this summer one of kindness and compassion with our summer kindness challenge. Find your sweet spot in life with MOCO. Happy summer from our family to yours. Soak up every moment!
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a fresh perspective from rosemary's kitchen
written by Rosemary Thomas
Those Old Sayings
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fter spending a week with my family, I am full to the brim with happy memories, just about gamed-out, and looking forward to our next gettogether. I am lucky enough to still have my parents (Mom almost 92 and Dad is 86). Some of the best times we had as a family were just sitting outside reading the papers (my Dad loves his papers) and visiting. Dad is a wonderful combination of down home and up to date. He can dialogue current events or history and somehow always manages to throw in a “saying” or two to make his point. Of course, this always leads to a discussion on the origins of these phrases. Listed below are only a few of the ones that came up during our recent visit: --------------------------------------------------Sleep Tight: Early beds were made with a wooden frame with ropes tied across and a straw mattress on top of the ropes. Over time the ropes stretched and the mattress sagged. The ropes were tightened to get a better night’s sleep. (“Yall sleep tight.”) Buying the Farm: During WWI, soldiers were given life insurance policies worth five thousand dollars, which was the price of an average farm, so if you died you “bought the farm” for your survivors. (“Be safe out there. We don’t want anyone to buy the farm before you get back home.”)
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A Shot of Whiskey: In the old west, a .45 cartridge for six-gun cost 12 cents and so did a glass of whiskey. If a cowhand was low on cash he would give the bartender a cartridge in exchange for a drink. This became known as a “shot” of whiskey. (“Looks like he has had a shot of whiskey or two.”) Over a Barrel: In the days before CPR, a drowning victim would be placed face down over a barrel, which would be rolled back ad forth in an effort to empty the lungs of water. This was rarely effective, so if you are “over a barrel” you are in deep trouble. (“He really got over a barrel when he was trapped in that cave.” This came about as we were discussing the fascinating story of Floyd Collins who was trapped, and subsequently died in Mammoth Cave in Kentucky in 1925. Worth a read.) Riff-Raff: Riverboats carrying passengers and freight on the Mississippi River had the right of way but most people used rafts on the river, which were considered cheap. The steering oar on the rafts was called a “riff” and the term eventually became riff-raff meaning low class. (“I think we
may have some riff-raff in the place next door.”) Barge In: Heavy fright was moved along the Mississippi River in large barges pushed by steam-boats. These were hard to control and would sometimes swing into piers or other boats. People would say they “bargedin.” (“Everybody doesn’t have to barge in all at once, now do they?”) You may think all these sayings (and hundreds more) fall into the category of useless information, but to me, they are reminders of our past and memories of my inquisitive and expressive Dad. So, I hope all of you have a wonderful summer. Stay cool as a cucumber during these dog days of summer. Don’t fly off the handle or go off half -cocked when it gets hot as blue blazes. Just keep a stiff upper lip and find the silver lining as you shake a leg and stay happy as a clam. Stay inquisitive. There is so much to learn! ----------------------------------------------------
Rosemary Thomas is an avid cook and gardener who enjoys the challenge of owning Rosemary's Kitchen in Ruston and working with her daughter. To find out what's cooking in her kitchen today, visit her facebook page at www.facebook.com/simplefreshgood/ or www. rosemarys-kitchen.com
Making Memories EXTRA SWEET!!!
94 SOUTH VIENNA STREET, DOWNTOWN RUSTON, LA 318.255.6771
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Find us on Facebook at Minden Makers Fair - or The Farm of Cultural Crossroads
Discover your new favorite artist, hobby, food, or friend at our event. Featuring handmade goods for sale by area artists and makers, demonstrations, hands on workshops, children’s make and take activities, culinary treats, farm fresh produce, and so much more. No gate fee but bring spending money to support our vendors!
Corner of Talton Street & Union Street (US 80) in Minden, LA
Interested in participating? Email mindenmakersfair@gmail.com for more information. 9
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Hi there! I’m Sara! Home renovation is my passion. This columm documents the renovation process of my 1926 Louisiana cottage. Some would have chosen to it tear down, seeing no hope or future for a home in such terrible condition. Not me! I see resilience and charm hidden beneath the rot, decay and neglect. Much like my home, I too have been devastated and broken down. This cottage will personify beauty from the ashes‌my ashes. Join me as I reclaim and restore both my life and my home. You can connect with Sara at: SimplySara.com or SimplySouthernCottage.com.
hat is it about porches, y’all? Out of every other cozy, comfy place in my cottage, my porches draw me to them the most, especially my back porch. As I’m writing this column, I’m on my back porch bed swing. It’s early evening, and the sun has set. The songs of birds and insects are deafening. The Louisiana air is thick. But it’s out here on this back porch where I find peace and respite, where my cares seem to float away on the Louisiana breeze. When I first laid eyes on my cottage, the massive front porch with its towering white columns drew me right in. Even though at the time, it was hidden behind years of unkempt Red Tip Photinias (which were taller than the house), I immediately had the vision of my family sitting around with sweet tea and cookies, deep in conversation and laughter. I envisioned rocking chairs and a porch swing. Both filled with lush pillows. I saw ferns gently blowing in the breeze. And plants. LOTS of plants. Plants on the front stoop. Plants enveloping the swing and rocking chairs. And as it so happened, I have my granny’s old sewing machine treadle (turned into a table) and I knew it would have the PERFECT home on this front porch. Oh and then there’s Christmas and other holiday porch décor! After attending the Christmas Tour of Homes in both Jefferson, Texas, and Madison, Georgia, I knew EXACTLY how I would decorate my front porch for Christmas: lots of fresh greenery, swags, parcel wrapped packages, and dim, flickering candles in each of the windows. I wanted my Christmas porch to look straight out of a scene from a Thomas Kinkade painting. And, originally, there wasn’t a back porch. But again, I “saw” a bed swing and towering white columns (just like the ones on the front) before it became a reality. I longed for an outdoor living space and knew adding a back porch onto the cottage was a non-negotiable. I shared my vision with Bolin Construction and they got to work building my dream back porch.
Prior to acquiring the cottage, I began pinning bed swings on Pinterest. After narrowing down the style I wanted, I contacted Ali’s Creations in Calhoun, Louisiana, and she created THE EXACT bed swing I saw in my mind, right down to the ropewrapped chains. I was astounded when Ali delivered my bed swing and it was truly a replica of everything I had envisioned! Believe it or not, I actually have a second sewing machine treadle that belonged to my Granny and my parents graciously topped it with a piece of remnant granite leftover from their remodel. So I have two vintage treadles on two porches! Plus, like the front porch, I knew I again wanted ferns dangling between the columns and lots and lots of plants to fill up the space. And what if I told you the cottage actually has a THIRD porch?! It does! Again, I had a vision for small garage with adjoining craft room. And Bolin Construction, once more, made my vision come to life by building a garage/craft room combination. And just off the craft room is, you guessed it, a tiny porch. And it is filled to the brim with planters and flowers! So what is it with all these porches? All the visions? Simply put, it’s God’s provisions becoming a reality in my life. It’s God replenishing, restoring and bringing beauty from ashes. You may ask, “But with porches?” And my answer would be, “Absolutely.” Not only did He graciously provide me with a beautiful home, He went above and beyond granting my heart’s yearning for outdoor living spaces where I could entertain friends and loved ones. He created restful, calm areas where I could meet Him. He placed the vision and dream on my heart for porches and then crafted hundreds of divine appointments and opportunities to make everything fall magnificently into place. And the best news? He can do the same for you! What visions and dreams has He placed on your heart? Listen carefully. He often speaks in the gentlest of whispers. Maybe, just maybe, your “porch” dreams are transpiring to bring beauty from your ashes. If your visions and dreams will bring Him glory and offer an opportunity for you to meet Him in that reality, I wholeheartedly believe He’s birthing a new season in you! And I can’t wait to hear all about it.
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the journey written by Jason McReynolds
How to be a Coach
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everal years ago, I was the coach of a little league boys’ baseball team. Most of them had never really played before. Every week we had one practice and two games. That's a lot for seven and eight year olds. One of our competing team, the “all stars”, practiced three times a week along with the two games. There was a pretty strong lure to follow suit and start practicing more to get better and eventually be the best. But what actually happens when you push kids
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too hard is that everyone gets worn out and ends up hating the game over time. The temptation for coaches is to worry about the other team- who they have, what they're doing, how they're coaching, etc. But as a coach I constantly have to remind myself (and the parents) that we don't care about the other team, we were coaching OUR boys. The other team is not our team. This little band of nose-pickers is our team. Our players are at a totally different skill level than other teams. Our job is to coach them from where they are to where they need to be.
God does the same thing with us. He takes us where we are in life, works with us, guides us, and leads us to where He wants us to be. But He has also given us a responsibility in our respective areas of life to be the stewards of leadership. It’s what we are to do with our spouses, our children, and our grandchildren and great grandchildren. Mothers and fathers especially have a unique role in the family organism that God has set up. We are responsible for coaching up those around us.
There are different kinds of coaches. There are a few you might want to stay away from when it comes to coaching your kids in any sport. The one who loses his temper quickly. The one who pushes your kid like a major leaguer and expects your kid to perform like a teenager. The sneaky coach who tries to pull one over on the ref. Or the bully who belittles the weaker players. Those coaches are pretty easy to spot after a practice or two. Their toxic attitudes will eventually start to rub off on your kids. But then there are those coaches who take the longterm view. They aren’t as easy to spot and you have to search for them. These are the guys who teach a team approach. The weakest member is just as important to the team as the strongest. The coach who celebrates the small personal victories that a child overcomes and doesn’t just get excited when you win a big game. The coach who cancels practice for little to no reason every once in a while to let the team rest… especially during the school year. The coach who at the end of a painful loss can reflect on the fact that it was still a close game and super fun to play in. These are next-level coaches. Most of the time they are quiet and unassuming guys. They may not churn out the next Mickey Mantle or Babe Ruth, but I guarantee that your child will want to play year after year after year. The bible says that we are to go about our business working hard for God and not attracting attention to ourselves. This is great advice for coaching as well. There are so many “loud” coaches in your life. They want to be noticed and admired. Often in life we have moments when we look at others and see what they do with their kids or families, or we see what they have and wish that we could be them. We wish we could do what they do and have as much energy and skill that that person has. But God didn't make you like them. And even though God made you, He didn't make you like you. Yes, you read that right. The bible says that God made you like Him, in His image, in His likeness (though not a carbon copy). God doesn't want us to be like others, He doesn't want us to find our inner strength and be "me", He wants us to be like Him! Jesus is the only coach we need. And only by Jesus will we be able to coach our own family and team. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------Jason McReynolds is the pastor of New Orleans Community Church. He and his wife, Liev, have two growing teen age boys and one shy and sweet tween girl. Jason enjoys hanging out with his family and friends, watching and/or playing any kind of sports, and taking his wife out on dates. To learn more about him, or NOCC, visit: www.neworleanscommunitychurch.com
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a novel approach written by Winnie Griggs
Layering in Texture and Emotion - Part 1
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oday I’m starting a two-part series on layering texture and emotion into your manuscript. In Part I, this article, I’ll focus on Texture. Once I finish the first draft of a book, I get to dig into my favorite part of the writing process – the polishing phase. In addition to cleaning things up and making sure there are no loose threads I forgot to wrap up, this is the phase where I go in and look for ways to layer in texture and emotion.
She stepped over a root and paused while Toby studied a beetle. They’d been strolling along for about thirty minutes, and the creek crossing was just up ahead. Some of the choicest blackberries in the county grew there.
Then she hitched her shoulder, shifting the weight of the basket she carried. It was a beautiful day here in the dappled shade of the woods, and they had an afternoon of picnicking and berry picking ahead of them.
Once they’d picked enough for Lucy to make a cobbler or two, they’d eat the picnic lunch she’d packed.
She stepped over a knobby root and paused while Toby and Jasper studied a large beetle lumbering up the side of a hickory tree. She inhaled, drawing in the scent of pine needles and just a hint of honeysuckle. They’d been strolling along this leaf-carpeted trail through the woods for about thirty minutes, and the creek crossing was just past the bit of heavy brush up ahead. Some of the choicest blackberries in the county grew there.
A noisy commotion from somewhere up ahead caught her attention. Toby whispered, “What’s that?” ---------------------------------------------------Now here it is after I add in a texturing layer (highlighted in bold text):
Texture is about specificity. It includes the specific detail you need to include in order to convey feelings, color, atmosphere, setting – in other words, it’s about allowing your readers to immerse themselves in your scene with all of their senses. To do this you add descriptors and sensory words, but you do this with surgical precision – too much and you risk bloating your prose, too little and you miss opportunities to paint a vivid picture for your reader.
“The preacher’s cat is an elegant cat.”
I always do better with examples, so I’m going to draw from the opening of one of my books, A Matter Of Trust.
“It means to be sociable, to want to be part of a group of other folk rather than off by yourself all the time.” Lucy pointed to the floppy-eared dog capering along beside them. “For example, Jasper here is very gregarious, but Mustard, for all his skills as a mouser, isn’t.”
Here is the stripped down, bare bones version: ---------------------------------------------------“The preacher’s cat is an elegant cat.” “The preacher’s cat is a frightened cat.”
“The preacher’s cat is a frightened cat.” “The preacher’s cat is a gregarious cat.”
Once they’d picked enough for Lucy to make a cobbler or two, they’d eat the picnic lunch she’d packed. A noisy commotion from somewhere up ahead caught her attention.
“Gregarious.” Toby drew the word out as he stretched the band on his slingshot. “What does that mean, Ma?”
Toby whispered, “What’s that?”
Lucy Ames smiled down at the boy walking beside her.
Hopefully, I’ve added enough detail here to give the reader a sense of place, enough to help her really visualize the setting. And that’s what Texture is all about.
“Oh.”
----------------------------------------------------
That’s it for our discussion of Layering in Texture. Next time around I’ll discuss how to layer Emotion into this very same scene. ----------------------------------------------------
Lucy watched him mentally file away her definition. Her sweet little boy.
“The preacher’s cat is a gregarious cat.” “Gregarious.” Toby drew the word out. “What does that mean, Ma?” Lucy Ames smiled down at the boy walking beside her. “It means to be sociable, to want to be part of a group of other folk rather than off by yourself all the time.” “Oh.” Lucy watched him mentally file away her definition. Her sweet little boy.
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Winnie Griggs grew up in south Louisiana in an undeveloped area her friends thought of as the back of beyond. She and her siblings spent many an hour exploring the overgrown land around her home, cutting jungle trails, building forts and frontier camps, and looking for pirate ships on the nearby bayou. Once she ‘grew up’ she began capturing those wonderful adventures in the pages of her notebooks. Now a multi-published, award winning author, Winnie feels blessed to be able to share her stories with readers through her published books. You can learn more about Winnie at www.winniegriggs.com or connect with her at www.facebook.com/WinnieGriggs.Author
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INGREDIENTS
DIRECTIONS
INGREDIENTS
• White Balsamic Vinaigrette - 2 1/2 Tbsp white balsamic vinegar - 1 Tbsp local honey - 4 Tbsp olive oil - Salt & Pepper to taste - Juice of 1 lemon • 3 ripe, delicious peaches, halved • 6 oz arugula (or other favorite green) • Fresh mozzarella ball (cut into pieces ) • 1 package goat cheese (crumbed) • 1/8 C Toasted slivered almonds • Purple basil leaves (find them at Pato Feo Farms at the Saturday Ruston Farmer’s Market)
Mix the vinaigrette using a whisk . . Brush with a little of the vinaigrette or plain honey and place on a grill pre-heated to medium. Let grill for 4-6 minutes uncovered until they have noticeable grill marks. Using a metal spatula gently turn over and grill one more minute. Try to keep peach in tact. Cut peaches into wedges.
• 1 1/2 pounds applewood smoked bacon, cut into 1/2-inch pieces • 1 large yellow onion, chopped (about 1 1/2 cups) • 4 ripe peaches, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch dice (about 3 cups) • 3/4 to 1 cup dark brown sugar (less if your peaches are sweet) • 1 tsp ground black pepper • 2 tbsp whole grain Dijon mustard • 2 tbsp Worcestershire sauce • 1 tbsp minced garlic • 1/4 cup apple cider vinegar • 2 tbsp bourbon (optional)
Toss greens and purple basil leaves and slivered almonds with some of the vinaigrette.. You will have some dressing left over. Make a bed of greens, and place grilled peaches on top and bits of cheese.
In a large, heavy-bottomed pot, (or cast iron), cook bacon over medium-high heat until crisp, about 10 minutes. Remove bacon with a slotted spoon and set aside. Leave 2 tablespoons of bacon fat in the pot and discard the rest. Add onions to pot with bacon fat and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 8 minutes. Return bacon to the pot with chopped peaches, brown sugar, black pepper, mustard, Worcestershire sauce, garlic, apple cider vinegar, and bourbon. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until jam is thick and glossy, about 30-35 minutes. (If your peaches are very juicy and throw a lot of liquid into the jam, this might take a little longer; continue simmering until thick.) As the jam cooks, use the back of your wooden spoon to break up the peaches. Remove from heat and cool to room temperature. If a smoother texture is desired, transfer cooled jam to the bowl of a food processor and pulse a few times until you reach your desired consistency. Serve jam at room temperature.
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INGREDIENTS
DIRECTIONS
• 16 cooked slices bacon • 2 packages prosciutto • BACON PEACH JAM or peach preserves • 2 peaches, thinly sliced • 4 ounces Brie cheese, thinly sliced • 4 tbsp unsalted butter, at room temp • 8 ciabatta buns (or pumpernickel or sourdough)
Preheat a cast iron grill pan to medium-high heat. Lightly oil the top and bottom of the grill pan or coat with nonstick spray. Heat a large skillet over medium high heat. Add bacon and cook until brown and crispy, about 6-8 minutes. Transfer to a paper towel-lined plate and set aside. With a butter knife, spread butter on one side of each slice of bread. Spread preserves or jam on each of 4 bread slices with buttered side down. Divide peaches, brie and bacon, prosciutto evenly on all slices. Top with remaining slices, buttered side up, building from the bottom piece of bread Place top piece of bread on top, flip once, and then slightly move to make a cris cross effect! Serve immediately.
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headlines & hemlines written by Rachel Pardue
A Tech Startup Inspired by Meme, Pop, & Aunt Lou
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rowing up in Louisiana, I spent countless afternoons having coffee at my grandparents’ house. It’s a timehonored southern tradition to have a hot pot of coffee waiting and an open door policy for friends and family to drop by unannounced. Most afternoons it was me and a crowd of 60-year-olds. Amidst all of the lessons of the good old days, what I found most fascinating was the way they viewed the present with wonder, amazement, and a bit of humility. As we have advanced into a new technological world, the general consensus reached over coffee was that my grandparents felt a little left behind. After almost 50 years of running their own company and paying bills by mail, my grandparents told me about the confusion they felt when their bank announced that they were only accepting online payments. At that time, my grandparents didn’t have a computer. Even as my grandparents began trying to progress with the times by buying computers, smartphones, and even creating social media accounts, much of what tech companies assume to be ‘intuitive’, they needed to be taught. That’s where I came in. As the only nonbaby boomer in the room, I became the expert teacher on how to save photos, navigate the web, and even how to wish Aunt Lou a happy birthday on Facebook. My grandparents would ask me how to do something, and I would point to each button they needed to press on their screen and describe each step of the process. After walking them through the steps, they would always say ‘well when you’re here it’s easy, but when you leave we forget.’ About that time, I moved to San Francisco to partake in a business program that focuses on high growth technology startups in the heart of Silicon Valley. As a business student in the land of engineers, I experienced the same feelings of technical inadequacy that my grandparents had. I had no clue how to use many of the software
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platforms and design tools that my friends had been taught in engineering school. Just like my grandparents, I would rely on my friends to stand over my shoulder, point to each button I needed to press, and guide me through the task at hand. With their help, I was able to learn at an accelerated speed because I didn’t have to sit through hours of classes or tutorial videos. I could learn by doing as long as I had their expert guidance for when I got stuck. As I have gotten to know more people in San Francisco, I realized my problem is quite common. Developers speak ad nauseam about their app or web platform’s user experience, which is just tech talk for if people can easily figure out how to use it. Founders grumble about the various customer support teams they have to assemble to answer the same question over and over again. Employees speak dreadfully of their first week on the job where they were expected to learn 15 different software platforms, and their CEO’s complain about the money that goes into training their employees to use those platforms. Despite the limitless availability of online tutorial videos, chatbots, and help centers, when working alongside friends and coworkers, I noticed that they still turn to the person sitting next to them for help. Almost always, the person would get up, walk over to their screen and point to each button they need to press just like I did for my grandparents and my friends did for me. Likewise, when I was home alone working on an assignment that required design or data software and got stuck, it would take me upwards of 30 minutes to find the same solution online that my friends had been able to show me in about a minute.
No matter how technologically savvy someone is, when they get stuck learning to use a new tool or platform, they ask for someone to walk them through the task just like my grandparents did when they wanted to wish my Aunt Lou a happy birthday on Facebook. Regardless of skill level, it’s hard to ask for assistance without feeling as if you’re inconveniencing the more experienced user. In an office setting, employees worry they will appear inadequate for asking their boss or coworkers questions. Even my grandparents expressed that they felt embarrassed for having to ask me for help. And so I started LOU to simplify the learning process. At LOU, we believe that when it comes to technology there is always more to learn, and we believe that people learn best when they aren’t afraid to ask questions. LOU aims to be everyone’s personal tutor to empower users to learn complex software while they complete their work. LOU sits on the bottom right corner of your screen, and when you need help or get stuck, just ask LOU a question like you would your friend or coworker. LOU then answers your question by walking you through the task at hand by highlighting each button you should click in blinking pink and explaining every step of the process. With LOU, we hope tech savvy power users and grandparents alike will never be afraid to ask for help. To see LOU in action go to www.louassist.com ----------------------------------------------------------
Rachel Pardue is a graduate of Cedar Creek School in Ruston, Louisiana. She is an aspiring entrepreneur who is studying business at Babson College outside of Boston, Massachusetts. Babson is ranked as the #1 School for Entrepreneurship in the nation, and Rachel is attending as a Center for Women’s Entrepreneurial Leadership Scholar.
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notes from
norway
written by Melissa Caldwell Teutsch get the award, it would be an once-ina-lifetime opportunity and something that I knew we would try our hardest to make work—no matter the ‘what ifs’. Matthew ultimately decided to apply for a Fulbright to the University of Bergen in Norway and turned in his application in the summer of 2017. From there, it was a long waiting game and although he jumped in head first dreaming of a year abroad in Norway, I didn’t. I didn’t want to get my hopes up or for him to end up disappointed, but really and truly, leaving America for a year gave me heart palpitations. I’m a recovering control freak and this was WAY out of my control and my comfort zone!
'What If' We Moved to Norway for a Year?
W
hen my husband, Matthew, started tossing around the idea of applying for the prestigious and competitive Fulbright Scholar Award that sends university professors and scholars abroad for a year to teach or research, the realist in me thought he was in way over his head. Opportunities like that just didn’t happen to us. As my husband started working on his application, I focused on the ‘what ifs’ and pondered how we’d be able to pull this off. What if the health insurance is too expensive? What if we can’t get our jobs back? What if the stipend isn’t enough to pay our bills? What if our kids didn’t want to go? The comfort creature that I am screamed internally for me to talk him out of it, but I remained supportive. After all, if he really did
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In November of 2017, he had a Skype interview with two professors at the University of Bergen who would give their recommendations to the American committee. In early December, he received a letter stating he had made it to the next round and that it could be months before we would hear about a final decision, but just two short weeks later, we received an early Christmas present: the news that Matthew had
been selected as a 2018-2019 Fulbright Scholar. Even now, many months later with all the big plans made for the move in August, it still doesn’t feel real. At first, all those ‘what ifs’ seemed like huge obstacles, especially when on a limited budget, and there were a few weeks there where we were unsure if we could pull this off, but we prayed about it and God opened doors and made a way. The health insurance is super affordable; our bosses have been very supportive and willing to give us our jobs back when we return; our kids are excited to attend school in Norway and learn the Norwegian language; and the stipend from the grant will end up stretching far enough to cover both the bills here and abroad. We’re excited to experience life— 11 months of it precisely—4000 miles away. There are still so many ‘what ifs’. Surprisingly, though, I’m now looking forward to finding out the answers to them and sharing this incredible experience with you! ----------------------------------------------------
Melissa Caldwell Teutsch was raised in Springhill, La., and holds a Bachelors degree in Mass Communication from the University of Louisiana at Monroe. Her husband, Matthew-an English professor and Bossier Parish native--is a 2018-2019 Fulbright Scholar. Together with their two kids, Juliette (11) and John Hayden (5), they're spending a year living abroad in Bergen, Norway. Melissa blogs about their journey at notesfromnorway.com.
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bringing back
the past
written by Wesley Harris Goat Weeds, Ice Boxes, and a Pocket Full of Quarters: What My Grandmother Taught Me About Money
A
s a young boy, I spent many nights at my grandmother’s house. By the time I came along, the town had grown up around it, but it still had a country feel, complete with milk cow in a large pasture and a small barn. The backyard featured a huge chicken coop, a pecan tree, fig trees, and the ubiquitous chinaberry tree found in every grandparent’s yard in that era. Her place provided a home away from home, away from two younger brothers who rarely came with me. There I could read for hours, take naps, or listen to Grandmother’s hours-long telephone conversations with relatives and old friends. And there was always the prospect of making some money doing chores around the place. I often returned home with my pockets a little heavier with a small heap of quarters. Grandmother slept with the windows open due to the suffocating summer heat. She believed air conditioning was an unjustified expense, having lived 60plus years without it. I slept on a little cot in the corner of her bedroom. We would lay still and listen to the sounds of the night. There were chirping crickets and croaking frogs, but her favorites were the birds. Grandmother knew her birds and educated me with the window like a teacher would use a blackboard. "That's a bobwhite," she would say. "Listen to that nightingale. I used to hear them all the time." There would be sounds we couldn't identify. I would guess. The scratching on the window screen must surely be a creeping lizard hunting bugs. Somewhere among the frogs, crickets, and whippoorwills, I would fall asleep. With morning came silence. Fascinating sounds were replaced by stimulating smells. The summer night cools quickly, and by morning there was a chill in the air. I dug deep under my quilt awaiting Grandmother's shout that breakfast was ready. “Get up early in the morning and eat a good breakfast. Bacon and eggs and buttered toast. Bacon makes you stout so you can make it through the day,” was a maxim I heard countless mornings. She always got me up early. The work is easier in the cool of the morning. Grandmother was the most frugal person
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I’ve ever known. She struggled alone to raise three children during the Great Depression. Because of that experience, she never threw anything away. Bread wrappers were reused in place of ziplock bags. Feed for the milk cow came in decorative cloth sacks that became dresses. If I held the refrigerator door open too long, she reminded me the escaping cool air cost her money. “Every time you open that ice box, it adds a nickel to my light bill,” she would say. One summer day she gave me a chore. The pasture was being overrun by a stubborn invader she called goat weed. Also called wooly croton or goat’s ear, some say the name alludes to the leaves shaped like the ear of a goat. Grandmother wanted it gone from the pasture because it was one of the plants that would turn the cow’s milk bitter if she ate it. Grandmother opened up the old barn and retrieved a bushel basket. She told me to pull the goat weeds and place them in the basket. I would receive one dollar for every bushel of weeds. In the pasture, she spread her feet slightly, bent over a large goat weed, grabbed it by the stem close to the ground and pulled. With a little grunt, she tugged a long slender taproot from the ground and tossed it in the basket. She brushed a bit of dirt off her hands and said, “If you get too hot, take a break.” I thought: Easy Money! The only previous chore earning me more than a quarter or two was mowing the grass for two dollars. This little job could mean much bigger money. I set to work. After twenty minutes the basket was full. I admired my handiwork and decided it was time for a break in the shade on the back steps. Grandmother was inside the screened back porch loading the washing machine. “I filled the basket. What do you want me to do with them?” I asked. “Already?” she questioned. She seemed skeptical. She walked to the pasture, stared at the basket a moment. Placing
a hand on my shoulder for support, she stepped over into the plucked weeds. She stomped around, mashing the weeds down until they just covered the basket bottom. Heat burned my cheeks and up my face until my head felt like a fireball. She turned to me and placed her hands on my shoulders, stepping out of the basket, briefly catching the hem of her dress on the handle. “Press them down as you go,” she said. I can’t remember ever being angrier as a kid. I thought I had just earned a dollar when I had barely started. Prospects of earning a pocket full of bills instead of a pocket full of quarters faded. After my anger subsided, I went back to work and was exhausted by the time the weeds were about two inches from the top of the basket. Grandmother was not going to step in this tightly packed basket. I took the basket to the back steps and told her I had done all I could do. She went to her purse and retrieved a dollar bill. I was hot and sweaty and despite my disappointment, that dollar bill looked pretty good. Much of my philosophy on money came from my grandmother. My children roll their eyes when I walk through the house adjusting thermostats and turning off lights, unwatched TVs, and abandoned electronics. I’m not a penny-pincher on Grandmother’s level, but understanding what she went through to raise and feed a family and later survive on her own makes me appreciate the value of a dollar. -------------------------------------------------------
Wesley Harris is a native of Ruston. Among his books are GREETINGS FROM RUSTON: A Post Card History of Ruston, Louisiana and Neither Fear nor Favor: Deputy United States Marshal John Tom Sisemore, available from amazon.com. He can be contacted at campruston@gmail.com. Check out his Louisiana history blog at http:// diggingthepast.blogspot.com.
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