Winter 2013 Volume 2 Issue 6
Christmas Past Hiking the Swiss Alps Online College Classes
for ages 50 and beyond...
Spiritual Winds Are Blowing Winter 2013
Everything You Were Taught
About Investing Was Wrong?
Many investors have been fooled by the Wall Street Bullies— the con men, the gurus, and the prognosticators —if they really had all the answers do you think that they would tell you? To be a successful investor you don’t have to know everything as long as you know the right things!
Here are just some of the 20 Must-Answer Questions for your journey toward financial peace of mind. Do You Know How Markets Work? Do You Know How to Measure Diversification In Your Portfolio? Do You Consistently and Predictably Achieve Market Returns? When Building Your Portfolio, Do You Know Exactly What You Are Doing and Why? Do You Have a System to Measure Portfolio Volatility? Do You Know the Three Signs That You Are Speculating and Gambling With Your Money? Visit our Website at www.raineyassetmanagement.com to download your free Investor Awareness Guide and take the FREE online Investor Quiz! Call our office to speak to one of our Investor Coaches and follow us on Facebook and Twitter.
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Prime Time As usual, this issue of Prime Time contains a varied selection of articles so that every reader should find something he or she enjoys. I especially like that many people keep our magazines. I regularly get calls and e-mails about stories in past issues they say they just got around to reading. Funny stories readers tell about falling out of bed laughing or the need for an adult diaper when reading “Monkey Shines” or “Ladies, Learn from me,” etc. certainly makes me smile, so thank YOU for your responses. I encourage you to contact our writers when you are touched by their articles. As we head into a new year I am concerned by the seeming lack of common sense in our government. This is not a Democrat or a Republican issue. This is a prevailing concern of Americans of every color, creed, and religion as it should be because common sense is a flower that obviously doesn’t grow in the government’s garden! How many times have you wondered, “How does a country trillions of dollars in debt give out billions of dollars in financial aid to other countries? How can we borrow vast amounts of money from China and use it to buy war planes for foreign nations who hate us? Who decided that our troops who are sent to Afghanistan and Iraq, many of whom Editor/Publisher Elaine Hodge Marze Layout/Art Direction Grace V. Hardesty Dennise Aiello Bonita Bandaries Ray Branton Shirley M. Brown Sarah Burroughs Bonnie Byrd Ric Cochran Lani Duke Irv Heard
Contributing Writers Chuck Lambert Elaine Marze Kelly Pugh Steve Rainey Amie Rolland Tammy Sharp Kenneth L. Skinner Kathryn C. Wolfe
have been maimed and killed, are restricted in sharing their faith? Yet people of those countries can come to America and worship freely, publicly, and radically on our tax dollars. When did Americans replace common sense with political correctness? Does it make sense that billions go to buy weapons for other nations who hate us while our troops need us to donate items like toilet paper and tooth paste for them? (See OSOT, page 33.) Families report that their sons have asked them to send underwear because they are on missions for days, and it is a luxury for them to have clean underwear to change into. Where was common sense when the president, congress, and big union buddies were to be exempted from Obama Care when the populace is forced to buy government insurance? Granted, the details are iffy right now, but that was the plan. The very idea of freedom-loving people being forced to buy anything they don’t want or need is abhorrent to those of us clinging to rights set forth in our Constitution. Americans are free to choose those who represent us in Washington, but we are not free from the consequences of our choices. Our roots are most definitely founded in Christianity so why are we allowing our culture to be decimated by some who complain about and denigrate
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our flag, our pledge, our Christian beliefs, and our way of life? Along with our lack of common sense, too many Americans are oblivious to persuasion and propaganda manipulation by the media. When George W. Bush was president the media kept a running commentary on how many Americans troops were killed. Have you noticed how silent they have been during President Obama’s time in office? Check the figures, but the numbers I’ve found state that more than 1,000 US troops died in Afghanistan by August 2010 under Obama, more than the 575 who died during Bush’s two terms, but how many news reports of those figures have you seen? Where is the outcry? During the government shut down, Americans were threatened with cuts in Social Security, military, and disability programs when common sense should have indicated that among the first places to cut funding should have been to illegal aliens, foreign aid, First Family vacations, Congressional pay, and frivolous programs like studying the mating habits of some frog. Supposedly patriotism is making a comeback; if only our nation’s leaders would regain some common sense! Elaine Marze, Editor firstname.lastname@example.org
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Table of Contents Winter 2013
Volume 2 Issue 6
04 Editor’s Letter
www.issuu.com/PrimeTimeMag 12 Looking Back While
24 Magical, Memorable Days
Moving Forward By Sara Burroughs
06 Crossword –
“Yule Tide Month” By Irv Heard
By Chuck Lambert
26 Online College Classes
13 The Bond of Sisters
07 Celebrating Christmas Past By Dennise Aiello
08 Memories of
Eunice Montgomery: Christmas Ornaments By Bonita Bandaries
09 The Brown Paper Sack By Shirley M. Brown
10 Is Cash King or a Paper Pauper? By Ric Cochran
By Dennise Aiello
By Amie Rolland
14 New Llano: Socialist Colony Museum Now Open By Tammy Sharp
By Kathryn C. Wolfe
28 Language Can Be Tricky! By Elaine Marze
16 Widow’s Walk
30 Spiritual Winds Are Blowing
By Elaine Marze
By Steve Rainey
17 So You Want to Publish
31 The Great Smokey Mountains
a Book? By Kenneth L. Skinner
By Elaine Marze
18 Hiking the Swiss Alps
32 Touring Alaska
22 Red River Quilters:
33 VFW / Operation Support
By Ray Branton
27 “Eighth Wonder of the World”
By Bonnie Byrd
Preserving Tradition and Influencing the Future By Kelly Pugh
Our Troops Needs Donations
33 Testimonial: All the Way
Magnolias By Lani Duke
By Elaine Marze
Cover: Ray Branton is photographed while hiking with friends in the Swiss Alps. See story on page 18. Winter 2013
Yule Tide Month
1. IBM Competitor 4. Unpaired 7. Red spots? 11. Gray looking 13. Mislead 14. Otherwise 15. Withered 16. Twelfth month 18. Coin side 20. African country 21. Fence 23. Woke up 27. Mountain Time 29. Saloon 31. Catch 32. Handout 6
34. Santa’s helper 36. What a clock tells 37. Sheep-like animals 39. Ball holder 41. Drowse 42. Its own 44. Journalist’s question 46. Grassy area in city 48. Discovers 51. December activity 55. Dreadful 56. Undiluted 57. Foot extension 58. Cat command 59. Turned in? 60. Night bird 61. Kilograms (abbr.)
1. Spar 2. Salt water term 3. December 25th 4. Stale 5. Low-cal regimen 6. Room decoration 7. Get back on 8. Loose gown for Mass 9. Compass point 10. She 12. Bark in pain 17. Self-esteems 19. Tree gum 22. Regret 24. Dec. visitor (2 words) 25. Writer Bombeck
By Irv Heard
26. Insightful 27. Wise Man 28. Coin machine 30. Deli order 33. Walked a short distance 35. Hardly any 38. Strike 40. Ext. high freq. (abbr.) 43. Curly corn chip 45. Helps 47. Have knowledge 49. Pull along behind 50. Puts in place 51. Resort hotel 52. Civic center 53. Miner’s goal 54. Harden Answers on page 34. Winter 2013
ChristmasPast During the 1940s, Christmas was not as commercialized as it is now. Merchants did not start decorating their stores for Christmas until after Thanksgiving. What a difference from today’s Christmas in July! The Christmas holidays were an exciting time for our family. My mother loved Christmas. Although there was not a lot of money to spend for toys, we always had a big tree with some presents for everyone. The tree did not come from a Christmas tree lot or a hardware store—and there wasn’t a Walmart at that time. The tree we had in the living room of the house on Merwin Street was a freshly cut pine. My dad would go five or ten miles from our home and cut down the biggest tree he could manage. He would bring it home and put it in the tree stand, and the rest was up to us. Mother kept all of the tree ornaments and lights packed away in a couple of boxes high on a shelf in the large pantry in the kitchen. Each year she would first put the strand of lights on the tree, hang her most fragile ornaments, then let my brothers and me decorate the rest of the tree. Many of the decorations were handmade by us at school, then brought home to enjoy. We made popcorn ropes with a needle and thread and red and green construction paper chains. Tinsel icicles were the final decorations, carefully placed on each limb of the tree in handful-sized bunches. I hung the icicles, but my mother discreetly rearranged them after I finished. My mother never told me, but I think Christmas was her favorite holiday. She would decorate the house with a bright red bow on the front door, a small manger set on the coffee table, a poinsettia plant and red candles on the dining room table and stockings hung, not on a mantle, but carefully placed on a window ledge by the tree—one for each of my brothers and me. And we knew which one belonged to whom. We learned at a young age that Christmas celebrated the birthday of Jesus, but we also believed in Santa Claus! My mother woke us at 5:30 a.m. on Christmas morning with the excited cry, “Santa Claus came last night!” With Gene Autry’s recording of Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer playing on the floor model Silvertone radio/record player, we would open the packages under the tree. Our gifts from Santa were usually some new clothes, one special doll for me, and a stocking full of oranges, apples, and nuts. Though they were simple gifts, they were very special to us.
By Dennise Aiello
We also had a family friend who was a candy and fireworks salesman. Every year we were given a large box of firecrackers and sparklers, a candy cane that must have weighed five pounds, or so it seemed to a little girl, and a box of Hershey bars. After the presents were opened, we had a wonderful breakfast. Each year my father’s employer gave him a huge ham for Christmas, the piéce de resistànce of a breakfast of ham, eggs, and biscuits with mother’s homemade fig preserves. The breakfast was our main meal of the day on Christmas. The rest of the day we snacked on ham sandwiches, mother’s fondant candy, and fudge And my dad would always let us have a cup of his eggnog—before he added his secret ingredient. About the Author: Dennise Aiello is a freelance writer/ photographer who lives in Benton, Louisiana. Her e-mail address is email@example.com. The author’s mother, Mae Belle Brown, in the early 1950s.
The same dolls that Santa Claus left under the Christmas tree on Merwin Street continue to have a special place every year under the tree—reliving memories of Christmas past.
Seasonti’nsgs Gree District 7
State Representative Richard Burford
Memories of Eunice Montgomery
Memories of my childhood Christmases are a mixture of food, family, and hopes unfulfilled. I always wanted a real doll but never received anything but a rag doll. Mama and Papa could not afford toys. Papa gave us five children bags of fruit—wonderful smelling fruit. My cousins always had pretty dolls given to them by Papa’s mother. She was more prosperous than the rest of the family. After Papa’s dad passed away, she married a man who worked for the railroad. He caught pneumonia and died, leaving her with a pension. Everybody said Grandma gave us rag dolls because she did not like Mama. No one knew why! There were always people at our house to eat. Papa said every hobo knew where to get off the train (our house was near the tracks) because Mama always had extra biscuits and black-eyed peas to feed the hungry travelers. Papa had odd jobs and in the summer raised and sold vegetables for money. We never thought of ourselves as poor because most everyone else was like us. I was born in 1924 and the Depression Years were not easy. At Christmas time Mama would make many sweet potato pies, enough to last through New Year’s. She made them thin and stacked them one on top of the other. We usually had dressing and pork shoulder. Mama would help neighbors butcher a hog, and they would give her some of it. She was always disappointed that she never received a ham. I only remember her 8
By Bonita Bandaries
saying that once because Mama never complained. On Christmas Eve Papa played the harmonica, and someone would read the Nativity Story from the Bible. This was a happy time for us. We kids decorated a tree with paper chains and homemade items. I always hoped that Santa would bring me a set of ball and jacks, but I did not get them until I was an older girl. At school parties I always received a handkerchief for my gift. The year I was in fourth grade my teacher, Miss Monroe, asked me to stay after school to help her take decorations off the tree. She also said she would give me the tree and decorations to take home with me. What joy! These pretty store-bought ornaments were the first ones my family ever had. From that year as long as I can remember, we decorated a tree with these ornaments. Christmas Ornaments was written by Bonita Bandaries as told by her mother, Eunice Powell Montgomery. Eunice was born February 29, 1924 in Rapides Parish. She passed away August 6, 2010 at the age of eighty-six. She and husband, Sidney, relocated to Shreveport in 1960. Children Bonita, Lynda, and Ron still reside in the area. Following Sidney’s death, Eunice lived the remainder of her life with daughter, Bonita. During the time of care giving, Bonita recorded much of her mother’s history. About the Author: Bonita Bandaries, retired Caddo Parish educator is author of A Promise Kept. Contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org.
The Brown Paper Sack
By Shirley M. Brown
It was just before Christmas in 1930. I was seven, a skinny girl with somewhat bucked teeth and dishwater blond, unruly curly hair. In a rural schoolhouse in Northeast Louisiana the second grade classroom was decorated with handmade items. Red and green paper chains dipped in every doorway and hung across the tops of the enormous solid pane windows. Thirty-five freehand drawings of Santa, his sleigh, and reindeer, were plastered on the window glass, each signed by its painter. A small cedar tree stood on the oiled wooden floor by the teacher’s desk, a tree found on a field trip to the woods just in back of the schoolhouse. The school janitor had cut it, made a wooden stand, and the class members decorated it. No electric lights adorned the tree, no delicate Christmas balls, no silvery icicles. Red, green, and gold knitting yarn wound together made colorful bows, which were tied on many of the limbs. Cutout paper Christmas trees colored with green crayons dangled here and there amidst the greenery. A real bird’s nest had an honored place near the front of the tree. Locust husks perched on some of the branches. We children had been waiting forever for this day— the day of exchanging presents. Names had been drawn weeks ago and we weren’t supposed to tell whose name we drew. Some of the packages under the tree were wrapped in fancy, shiny Christmas paper, some wrapped in butcher paper, and some in newspaper. Way at the back, almost out of sight, was a wrinkled brown paper sack, rolled down tightly at the top. Before the gifts could be opened, there was a Christmas program, with recitations, carols, homemade cookies, and grape Kool-aid. We sat at our desks impatiently, with much shuffling of feet and fidgeting of other body parts. The rule was that no package could be opened until every child had one. The teacher called out the name written on each package. We weren’t supposed Winter 2013
to know the name of the giver. That was another rule. One by one a gift was deposited on each desktop. The children poked at, touched and handled their presents, trying to guess what it was. Excitement ran high. Finally the teacher called my name and set a package on my desk. It was the brown paper sack. At the signal, thirty-four kids yanked open the outside wrappings from thirty-four presents, amid joyous noises of surprise and delight. The thirty-fifth present, the wrinkled brown sack on my desk, remained unopened. Disappointment bowed my shoulders. That sack did not look as if it could contain any of the things I had been dreaming of—books, a tea set, maybe a doll. Around me someone squealed with joy. Presents included a jump rope, a set of jacks, several boxes of dainty, embroidered handkerchiefs (three in a box), some chocolates, tops, and marbles for the boys, and there was even a sling shot on one desk. Slowly and reluctantly I unrolled the top of the plain brown sack and reached in. What I pulled out was a toy tractor, bright green, about five inches long and three inches tall. The back rubber wheels were very large and both were thickly covered in caked, dried mud. I can see it today. In all the years of exchanging school presents, that is the only gift I remember. I never did know who drew my name. Through the years when I would think about the incident (and I did), I wondered how the giver must have felt when his mother made him quit playing in the mud with his treasured green tractor, stick it in a sack, and give it to some old girl.
About the Author: Shirley Brown belongs to two Shreveport writers’ clubs, and is a retired legal secretary. She loves hearing from readers at email@example.com.
Is Cash King– By Ric Cochran
or a Paper Pauper?
History shows how cash is steadily worth less over time. I didn’t say worthless—as in absolutely nothing— just worth almost nothing over the long haul. Ask the oldest people you know what they paid for milk, eggs, and postage stamps when they were young. Why have prices of so many things increased so much over time? Are things worth so much more now, or is our money worth so much less? Anyone visiting the U.S. Mint has seen shredded currency and perhaps purchased a bag for a souvenir. But the Fed usually prints more currency than needed to replace the old worn out bills, often a whole lot more, especially these days. Oversupply drives down the value of currency like anything else in a free economy. Maybe you notice this when you have to part with more money over the years to buy things you used to pay less for. It’s not that the items are worth more—eggs are still eggs and stamps are still stamps; the money you pay with is just worth less, so you have to part with more of it to get the same stuff you used to get for less money. That’s inflation. Ever wonder why so many old men grumble over prices in checkout lines? They’ve seen this game played out over their whole lives. They may not know exactly why, but they know they’re getting the short end of the stick and they’re absolutely right! Governments seem to love inflation! Why else would so many governments, including ours, inflate their currencies? First, inflation arguably gives citizens an illusion of prosperity as homes and property appraise at gradually higher values even if nothing else about them has changed. But higher values can lead to higher property taxes and opportunities to tax “gains” when you sell. In the meantime, insurance companies can charge you more, and governments tax them, too. Second, inflation gradually lowers the cost of government (and corporate) borrowing since the inflated dollars paid back in later years tend to be worth substantially less—due to inflation—than the dollars originally borrowed. So why is cash considered so “safe,” almost sacred? Could it be that imprinting “IN GOD WE TRUST,” on our currency somehow makes cash feel a little safer, almost sacred? Could it be the so-called government guarantees? But what is cash actually guaranteed to be worth? Ever ask yourself ? U. S. currency used to be backed by gold and silver. That was a long time ago. U. S. currency is now backed by the “full faith and 10
credit” of a government trillions of dollars in debt, debt that grows annually, debt that is likely to be paid off in large measure, in the future as in past, by devaluing the currency—inflation. So what’s that “full faith and credit” guarantee worth? Beats me! This is why some in finance describe a dollar as more of an idea, a concept, worth whatever we believe it is worth. So a dollar in a guaranteed account is guaranteed to be worth a paper dollar with no guarantee as to what a paper dollar will actually buy? Pretty much. Does that sound like a problem for people holding a lot of their net worth in cash or bonds that pay out streams of future payments in cash worth steadily less over time? If it takes two dollars, then three, then four, and maybe a lot more to buy what used to cost just one dollar, you still have your “guaranteed” dollar bills in your hand, in your safe, in your bank account or buried behind the tree; you’ll just need a whole lot more of them because they’ve lost much of their power to buy things, which I would strenuously argue is the only reason you accumulated those dollars in the first place. Does this mean I’m advocating the purchase of precious metals or alternatives, like diamonds or BitCoins? Absolutely not! I’ll be writing more on this and the problems of cash hoarding whether paper or in accounts with returns lower than the rate of inflation on facebook.com/RaineyAssetManagement as well as RaineyAssetManagement.com. History provides guidance. The first step is getting over the myth that cash is anything more than a leaky bucket that will leave you poorer over the long-term if you keep most of your wealth in it.
About the Author: Ric Cochran writes and speaks about investing for everyday people. He’s an investor coach at Rainey Asset Management. You can learn more by visiting RaineyAssetManagement. com and following RAM on Facebook at www.facebook. com/RaineyAsset Management. Winter 2013
Cole Vosbury is shown with his father, Robin, and his grandmother, Nita Lynn Zahn, both well-known musicians and singers in their own right, as well as his mother, Laurie. These photos were taken at live performances of The Voice. Cole is (at PT press time) in the final eight and is widely supported by family, friends, and area residents as he competes on season five of NBC’s popular talent show. He is presently on Coach Blake Shelton’s team, and his talent has brought all four judges to their feet in a standing ovation. Cole’s uncle Keith Vosbury is also a professional in the music business, and there are support parties held each night of the competitions in Bossier City and Shreveport.
The Professional Women of Caddo (PRWC) meet on the third Tuesday of every month at 6:00 p.m. at Savoie’s Catering Place, 2441 East 70th St. Call Pam Gutekunst at (318) 797-0802 for more information. Bossier Republican Women meet each fourth Tuesday in the Azalea Room of Good Eats at 2177 Airline Dr. The meet & greet starts at 5:30. Call Babb Dockall at (318) 947-8558 for reservations. Booksignings for HELLO DARLING and WIDOWHOOD, I DIDN’T ASK FOR THIS will be held Saturday, December 14, at Cedar Grove Library, 8301 Line Ave., Shreveport, 1:00-3:00 p.m.and Saturday, January 4, at Broadmoor Branch Library, 1212 Captain Shreve Dr., Shreveport, 2:00-4:00 p.m.
Order from any bookstore
Hello, Darling by Elaine Hodge Marze
Most love stories are about the beginning of a relationship. This book tells the love story at the end of a relationship. “Elaine has the unique ability to make you laugh through your tears. You’ll learn about the progress and treatment of her husband’s cancer, see the humor that they both found in almost every situation—but most of all you’ll feel God’s presence in everything they faced.” Patti Yeatts, Administrative Asst., Northwest LA Baptist Association
“Each experience as shared through her words has left me wanting more. She writes as if she were talking to you. You’ll feel joy one moment and cry the next. Laughter is always key in her writings no matter what. Anyone who reads her story is sure to share it again and again.” Vickie Clemons, Tennessee WMU
You can schedule a book signing by e-mailing Elaine at firstname.lastname@example.org. Order by calling 888-361-9473 or visit the Website at: www.elainehodgemarze.tateauthor.com Winter 2013
While Moving FORWARD By Sara Burroughs
Like most retired people, I do what I want and avoid what I don’t want to do, either by paying someone else or ignoring the chore. I enjoy playing with my dogs and taking them on walks. I ride my bike, both alone and with a small group. I read, probably more than other people. It occurred to me recently that I have not changed much since the age of 11. OK, there are changes. I drive now. I enjoy cooking. I worked for 40 years and have a nice pension. Organizations, not school, provide my social life. And, there are things I did at 11 that I don’t do now. But essentially I am pretty much the person I was at 11. That year, 1951, was when my family moved to a house on Leo Street, the first house they ever owned. After four years in a one-bedroom duplex on Rutherford, it must have seemed like a mansion to them with a back yard, a twocar garage, and a breakfast table! It did not bother us that we did not have two cars; the second would come a few years later. The yard was not fenced, so our dog, Mike, wandered from yard to yard, as often guarding the neighbors’ house as our own. That was all right. The Palmers were people we would know for the next 50 years, long after both couples had been transferred to Houston (that’s the oil business). I fell in with two other 11-year-old girls, Emily and Linda, who lived across the street, and we did everything together. We went to the Broadmoor Theater (gobbled up now by Broadmoor Baptist Church); we read movie magazines and clipped pictures for our scrapbooks (Photoplay and Modern Screen); we biked to the Broadmoor Library, then a couple of small rooms on the A.C. Steere campus facing Youree Drive. Youree was a two-lane asphalt road lined with residences, so little traffic that in 1962 our dog, Blackie, could cross it safely. Youree ended at Southfield and become Louisiana 1, with fields of cotton on both sides. Emily, Linda, and 12
I crossed it hundreds of times in the next two years, biking to and from Broadmoor Junior High. On summer afternoons, we clutched nickels and waited for the Melody Man, his arrival always heralded by the same toneless and unmelodic recorded sounds, to bring us popsicles and Eskimo pies. He was like a Pied Piper, attracting children from nearly every house. Later, about dusk, the city often sent trucks to spray for mosquitos, and we dashed into the street to follow in the sickly smell of what was probably DDT. It wasn’t all fun, it was a summer of fear for parents. The polio epidemic swept across the South, and the opening of school was postponed for a couple of weeks. (In the mid ’60s, while teaching at Centenary, I would see a result of that epidemic when a girl in an iron lung took an English class from me via radio.) There was no swimming that summer; city pools closed, and no one we knew had a private pool. Our mothers imposed rest periods on us each afternoon, for somehow polio was linked in their minds with overheating. It was a neighborhood, a decade, when mothers were always at home. I don’t worry about polio now (come to think, I didn’t give it much thought then). My parents are gone. I don’t chase mosquito sprayers or clip photos of movie stars or dream of Stewart Granger who, it was appalling to learn years later that he was the same age as my dad. But some things remain the same: every day I walk and play with the dogs, every evening I read myself to sleep, every week I bike 20 to 50 miles. Sometimes I feel that, inside my 73-year-old body, there is a very surprised 11-year-old. About the Author: Sarah graduated from Byrd High and from Centenary. She taught English and journalism at Northwestern State U for 27 years. She volunteers at Noel Methodist Food Pantry and Master Gardeners. You can contact her at email@example.com.
The Bond of
By Amie Rolland
Breaking bones, busting heads on furniture, scarred up knees, and using G.I. Joe as Barbie’s date instead of Ken. All of these are events encountered by a young girl who never had a sister, and therefore spent her youth trying to get her older brother’s attention. Those efforts quickly wore off and brother-sister feuding set in. Luckily for my parents, my brother and I are both in our mid twenties and get along just fine now. And no offense to my brother, but I always wanted a sister just like I’m sure he always wanted a brother. Younger or older, it never really mattered as long as I had someone to talk to and share secrets with. Seldom have I noticed the bond of brothers and sisters to be as closely knitted as that of sisters with sisters or brothers with brothers. Last year I took my Granny, Jeannette, to visit her sisters in Alabama. During our week-long stay I witnessed three sisters whose love for each other has only grown stronger over the years. I was so tickled by the juvenile demeanor of these three elderly ladies as they sat around the kitchen table for hours just gossiping the day away. If you weren’t sitting in the room with them you’d never know they weren’t teenagers. As life often happens, a few minor details delayed our six-hour road trip but we finally arrived in Hueytown, Alabama. Upon our midnight arrival, my 84-yearold aunt met us at the door with her slow, southern drawl greeting of, “Well, I thought y’all’d gotten lost.” Evelyn was implying that we took far too long to arrive, not that she wasn’t honestly concerned of our whereabouts. Aunt Evelyn, or Annie Evelyn, as we fondly call her, portrays the perfect image of what a southern woman from small town Alabama is not typically depicted as: A cursing, loud-mouthed, opinionated, never wrong, raw as they get kind of woman. What’s not to love? I was ready to crash as soon as we arrived and unloaded the car, but much to my surprise, Granny and Aunt Evelyn stayed up for an hour or so catching up (as if they don’t talk on the phone daily). I am convinced that once people reach the ripe old age of 65 they no longer sleep. Winter 2013
The third and youngest sister, Shirley, resides in Georgia and is the opposite of Evelyn when it comes to manners and demeanor. Every word from her mouth is as sweet, soothing, and genuine as a Georgia peach. And of course my Granny is an even split between the two of her sisters. I’ve never met a woman more capable of love, but when it comes down to business, she isn’t afraid to speak her mind. These sisters are just like a group of old friends because quite frankly, that’s what they are. As the saying goes, “Friends may come and go, but sisters are forever.” These three have had each other all their lives and when they meet all together they just pick up where they left off. While falling asleep in the upstairs bedroom or hiding behind the pages of a book in the living room, I had the pleasure of enjoying some good ol’ fashioned southern gossip between these three sisters for six days. They still gossip about the same stuff—men, women, the crazy neighbor, and the black sheep of the family. At fifteen or at 70 years old, the only difference in these conversations is that their hair is gray, their skin has wrinkled, and some of their teeth might not be real. With age, the body typically starts to take its toll on a person. Between the three sisters there have been strokes, multiple cancer diagnoses and treatments, the loss of spouses and even a child; yet throughout all of these discoveries, illnesses, and life-altering events their sisterly bond cannot be rattled. Through every trial and tribulation, they are there for each other. The hundreds of miles in distance never prevented them from always ensuring the other is alright. If unable to travel they are only a phone call away from each other, and believe me, they all know how to carry on a conversation. Many can relate to this bond through their own relationships with siblings, other family members, or life-long friends. Well, as a 23-year-old I never quite had a grasp on the fundamentals of such a strong bond. It is reassuring to witness such a connection in family and with these three as an example, I have hope that at age 73 I’ll hold such a bond with someone.
The Museum of the New Llano Colony, chronicling the utopian socialist colony which flourished in the backwoods of Louisiana for 20 years in the early part of the 20th century, has opened for visitors. Many Louisianians have probably never heard of the colony, and the museum is a joint venture of the Town of New Llano and the Vernon Parish Tourism Commission. The Llano del Rio colony, first established in California by lawyer, Job Harriman, in 1917, ran out of water which resulted in most of the colonists packing up and moving from California to cut-over lands in Louisiana which the colony purchased from the Gulf Land & Lumber Company. Llano was pronounced ‘Yaw-no’ until military transplants to the area following 1939 began pronouncing it as Lan-o. The colony had a social influence, and some claim that the colony served as a seed bed for social reforms such as a minimum wage law and an eight-hour 14
By Tammy Sharp
workday. The colony’s vocational instruction for children also reputedly influenced Russia’s system for educating its youth. Children attended school half a day, using the other half to work at some vocation. The education system also included a day care, called the Kid Kolony, which provided women more free time to pursue other activities. The Great Depression brought scores of new members who needed the security the colony offered. Some, like John Rust and Theodore Cuno, brought with them skills, tools, and ideas to contribute. Rust lived at the colony and used colony resources to perfect his cotton picking machine, while Cuno, a journalist, is credited as being one of the founders of Labor Day. Llano had active supporters, as well as subscribers to its socialist newspaper, The Colonist, in every major country. The colony’s printing press also published the leading newspaper in Vernon Parish at the time, the Vernon Democrat, among other publications, all of which helped spread the news of Llano to socialists and radicals around the world. Though the colonists enjoyed a strong social life, with an orchestra, dancing, endless and fascinating discussions on any topic imaginable, lectures, and the finest library in the area, their more basic appetite for food was usually left unmet. Despite the support that rolled
The post office is one of two buildings that still remain of the colony.
in from all over the world, the colony had no cash and poor agricultural interests. Subsistence farming was utilized, but was never expanded to provide more and a better variety to the colonists’ diet. Eventually, financial problems and internal friction caused the colony to go into receivership in 1939. Only a few buildings, privately owned, still exist from the colony, including the cannery and the post office. The museum contains collections of colony publications, articles about the colony, photos, items made for resale at the colony, and memorabilia from a number of sources. The museum is located 211 Stanton Street in New Llano and is open Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays from 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. About the Author: Tammy Sharp lives in Florien, works as Public Relations Consultant for Fort Polk Progress and writes for other publications. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.
(from top) John Rust,
inventor of the cotton picker, was a member of the colony in the early 1930’s when this photo is believed to have been taken. The general store, as seen nearer the time of the colony’s heydey. This marble block was used at the colony for candy-making. The general store is one of two buildings that still remain of the colony.
(facing page) A strawberry crate signed by one of the colonists is owned by a local woman who lives near the surviving buildings.
I went for a run but came back after ten minutes because I forgot something. I forgot I’m out of shape and can’t run more than 10 minutes. I danced like no one was watching, but someone was watching and thought I was having a seizure and called 911! Winter 2013
Widow’s Walk By Elaine Marze A widow friend recently told me, “The hardest thing has been to realize that I am no longer the most important person to anyone.” I’m not a counselor in any shape or form, but when I hear widows talking about having panic attacks, I think it has to do with the unpleasant truth in this statement. I’d heard about panic attacks prior to widowhood but never experienced any until one Sunday not long after my husband died. I was with my daughter and her family mid-way on a long pew in a crowded auditorium when I noticed we were sitting behind the “widow’s row” where many of the elderly church widows sat together in a supportive group. It dawned on me that I was now a statistic; one of these women! The best I can describe it, my heart started having palpitations and I began to hyperventilate with an intense feeling that I had to escape from the crowd or suffocate. I didn’t know at the time that it was a panic attack, but I’ve learned since that they are a common occurrence the first year of widowhood. Sharing this seems to help women to know panic episodes are not unusual which lessens the fear factor. We’ve probably all seen the studies reporting that married men live longer than single men and married people are generally happier and healthier than singles. In the past two years of singleness I think I can see how that would be true. Happily married people have fewer worries because they work together as a team, whether it is taking care of grandkids or house and yard work or most anything else. A shared burden lightens the load so when a married person has a bad day, an emotional confrontation or health issues, that special someone is there for support and venting. When traveling even short distances, a spouse usually checks to find out if you made it there and back whereas a single individual can be lying dead for days before anybody notices. And, yes, that is a consideration, especially with widows who are used to having somebody care if they make it home on a dark and stormy night. They feel the lack of someone who cares. As the wife, mother, mother-in-law, and sister of firefighter EMTs/paramedics I am very aware that people die alone and aren’t discovered for days which isn’t an issue until you suddenly find yourself alone 16
and feeling the void of not having somebody to check in with. One night after driving for hours in hard rain and getting in at midnight I texted my son who was on duty that, “I made it home!” I felt the need to celebrate with someone. He texted me back, “I forgot you went anywhere.” However, the good news is that some single people are finding new companions/spouses. I heard recently of a unique way one couple met. They were both grocery shopping when a single lady read the shopping list of a widower as they both stood in line to check out. She read, “Get new woman friend” at the top of his list so she asked him if he’d found one (a new woman friend) yet. He said, “No” and she replied, “You have now.” They are dating! Everybody knows the holidays are tough for people who have lost loved ones so it would be nice if we looked around and included the left-behind half of couples in our activities and celebrations.
I Didn’t Ask for This! After being married to the same man for nearly 40 years, I found myself at a place I hadn’t wanted to be, hadn’t asked to be, and hadn’t planned to be. The physical loss of my love, my hero, my best friend, was devastating, but the fear of a future without him is terrifying. All our hopes, dreams, and plans are gone!
A nice gift for any widow or widower Elaine’s book Widowhood can be ordered at any bookstore. Schedule a book signing by e-mailing Elaine at email@example.com.
So You Want to Publish a Book? By Kenneth L. Skinner
So, you have been working on your family history for years now and you have gone as far as you can go, and you have your notes arranged so you can write them down in book form to share with your family members or public. Or, you are ready to write that novel that has been floating around in your head all these years. I’m sure there are other people out there wanting to get a book published. I have just written and published a history book. I am not bragging. I made some mistakes, but I learned some very valuable lessons on my first printing. I had been interested in the history of the El Camino Real for years and had a pretty good collection of books on certain aspects of it that I had bought over the years and read as my own private resource. I tried to steer clear of the internet for information simply because I don’t trust the information as being true. I’m just old fashioned. When I first started writing, I would work every spare minute to get all that stuff out of my head and onto paper. Even when I started referring to my notes, I would work all I could to make the story flow. When I got to approximately 245 pages, I decided to stop writing for a while and see what it looked like and realized I had some whole paragraphs out of place and some of the others didn’t make sense. That was a blow to my ego and I had to stop writing all together for a couple of days. If I had it to do over, I would have set myself up on a schedule of so many hours per day with some pauses to proof read and re-write. Had I done so, I think I would have been finished much sooner, been saner, and had a better end product. When you get your manuscript just like you want it, it is time to look for a publisher. I didn’t want to send mine off to one of those publishing houses and wait for their rejection letters. The other option is “Self-Publishing.” If you Google “Book Publishing,” you will find the companies that offer this service and their charges. Don’t just choose the first one on the list and go with them, but look at as many of them as you can. They offer different services and different prices. The good thing about selfpublishing is that you may order a few copies and test the water to see if they are going to sell. If they are accepted by the public, then you can go back to the publisher and Winter 2013
order more copies and receive them in as little as three days. Marketing your work will be your job. If it is a family history, you will probably want to target everyone in your family. Sometimes you will find receptive customers and some of them may not be at all interested and won’t buy one. Be sure to set a price that repays expenses. Don’t forget about the postage. If you use the Postal Service, they have a “Media Rate” just for books and films. Compare that with other shippers like UPS. Your marketing strategy for a novel will probably be totally different than for a family history. You will want to get your work in as many book stores as you can. My own experience with the large bookstores like Barnes & Noble and Books-A-Million was that they only buy books from wholesalers and those wholesale companies want a 50% or 60% discount to buy your book. My break-even point was so high, I could not afford to give such discounts. Go ahead and contact them, and you may be able to make a better deal. But, there are plenty of other book stores that will be happy to work with you on a much smaller discount. You just have to do a little leg work and seek them out. E-Bay.com and Amazon.com are two other options that will get your work to a larger audience. You may want to set up an account and begin selling that way. I ended up losing a little money on my first 100 printing, primarily because I neglected to quote shipping and handling in with the price of some of my books. I have ordered my second printing, learned from my mistakes and trudge on to make my project a success. The pay may have to be the satisfaction that you have done something good for future generations. About the Author: Ken and his wife, Judy, live in south Bossier City. He was disabled in 1987 with a bout of Guillian-Barre Syndrome that left him paralyzed from the neck down. He spent a year and 19 days in the hospital, four months on the respirator, an experience about which he wrote in With Wings as Eagles. The book is his testimony, an account of this disease that is becoming more common, and the rehabilitation and miraculous restoration of mobility. Ken can be contacted at inpeser@ aol.com or call him at 318-746-8809.
Hiking SWISS the
By Ray Branton
Near-perfect weather favored the 2013 Swiss Easy Walks group during their two weeks in the Alps this fall. Without a cloud in the sky on two successive days, Switzerland’s most famous mountains were on full display. On one day the group took the “Grandparents Walk,” a gentle downhill excursion facing the Eiger, Monch, and Jungfrau. The north face of the Eiger, soaring 3,000 feet above the trail, seemed almost near enough to touch. The next day, the group went by train south to Zermatt; the Gornergrat rack railway carried them to a high point where the jagged tooth of the Matterhorn filled the southern sky and a massive glacier ground its way down the valley to the east.
The relatively easy mountain trails and the group’s conditioning (walking hills) before the trip enabled everyone to participate. The cool air, the snow-capped peaks, the sounds of streams plunging down the mountainsides, and the tinkling of cowbells drew the hikers into a world apart. One woman who had never done mountain hiking before wrote, “I am still delighting in all the memories. It surpassed anything I imagined it would be.” The group hiked in places that seldom see Americans. Taking the train through an eight-mile tunnel, the group bussed into the lovely but isolated Lotschen Valley. Until the railroad line was completed about one hundred years ago, the Lotschen Valley was largely cut off from the rest of the world, especially in the winter when avalanches constantly threatened the only way in or out of the valley. A swift, safe cable car took the group to an intersection with the Lotschen High Path, a gentle traverse of the mountainside where snow-capped peaks and a distant glacier frame the scene. At one point the trail led the hikers through Weissenried, a tiny, unspoiled village with buildings hundreds of years old. In the center of the village—and partially blocking the road— is a tiny Catholic church built around the time of the American Revolution. A lake cruise, a walking tour of Bern, the Swiss capitol, a musical night at the hotel featuring Swiss folk music and yodeling, and excursions on the excellent Swiss trains added variety to two weeks participants will long remember.
My love affair with the Swiss Alps began in 1995. While on a self-guided European tour, my wife and I spent a night in a village south of Interlaken. On awakening and looking down the verdant Lauterbrunnen Valley, I saw an astounding sight: The jagged, glistening white tooth of a big mountain towered over the greenery. I awakened Gwen: “Look—we must go see this!” Two short train rides brought us to the carless village of Wengen, perched on a wide ledge more than a thousand feet above the valley floor. A cable car carried us higher to Mannlichen. At 7,300 feet, it is a ski center in winter and a hiking center in summer. Now the massive North Face of the 13,000 foot Eiger loomed over us, seemingly only a stone’s throw away. We walked down the trail toward the Eiger. Called “The Grandparents Walk,” the trail is as wide as a sidewalk. Engulfed by immensity and majesty, one walks downhill facing the Eiger for about an hour and half. One can catch a train at that point. One may also continue to walk through lush green meadows while
sometimes being serenaded by tinkling cowbells on the way back to Wengen. When we next returned to the Alps in 1998 we found the village of Kandersteg. It became our Swiss home. The village, at 3,500 feet, is surrounded by mountains on three sides. A glacier tongue is draped across the tallest peak—the Blumlisalp. Everything in the village is within easy walking distance. When there, we stay in a small family-owned hotel. Both a buffet breakfast and a four-course evening meal are included in the price. There are many interesting hikes in and around Kandersteg. One may also use the hourly train service to access hikes in other scenic locations. Just south of Kandersteg is the unspoiled Lotschen Valley. It sees few American tourists. A cable car carries hikers to an easy path where snow-clad mountaintops are always in view and a glacier looms far ahead at the end of the valley. Zermatt, where the famous Matterhorn is located, is a two and one-half hour train ride from Kandersteg.
Hiking the trails.
The author and his daughter, Sarah Wilkerson, at 10,000 feet across from the Matterhorn, Switzerland’s most famous mountain. 20
On days when the weather is rainy or uncertain, there are other options: lake cruises, visits to centuries-old castles, tours of old city centers like Lucerne and Bern, and visits to interesting museums. Hiking is the Swiss national sport. Families with small children do it. Older Swiss adults do it into their eighties and nineties. The most strenuous hikes and the most dangerous climbs get the most publicity, but easier hikes are the hobby of most Swiss natives. Any basically healthy person who walks regularly for exercise can walk in the Swiss Alps the way the Swiss themselves do. Three choices make a Swiss vacation more affordable: Stay in a moderately priced, locally-owned hotel with a meal plan; buy The Swiss Pass before leaving home (it provides virtually unlimited travel on trains and buses, plus other benefits); become your own guide; avoid packaged bus tours as if they were an illness. Tourist bureaus in almost every town and village are eager to advise you. Buy a copy of Walking Easy in the Swiss and Austrian Alps by Chet Lipton (Amazon.com $17.06). It is perhaps the best guide for easy walks. Switzerland is a safe country where lots of English is spoken. Mingle with the locals. Ask for directions if you need them. Trail signs are everywhere. If you have an adventurous spirit you will find it surprisingly easy to guide yourself. Nowhere else in the world can ordinary walkers and hikers get so close to big mountains so easily. Nowhere else on earth is the grey rock and glistening snow of big mountains so beautifully framed by green pastures, trees, and wildflowers. The Swiss Alps are a world apart that can refresh one’s soul. Go. Enjoy. Fall in love. About the Author: Ray Branton has a doctorate in Theology from Princeton Theological Seminary and served as Reverend for over 50 years before retiring from the Louisiana United Methodist Conference. He has fourteen years’ experience hiking in the Swiss Alps. He takes a small group to Kandersteg each year in the late summer or early fall. He does not charge fees. Interested persons may contact him for details at (318) 797-3699. Winter 2013
For Sale: $138,00000
1979 Beechcraft B 55 Baron 3442 hrs. â€“ Complete New Interior & Paint in 2006 Contact: Aircraft Solutions, Shreveport @ 888-617-2258 Winter 2013
Red River Quilters By Kelly Pugh
Preserving Tradition Influencing the Future &
Red River Quilters (RRQ) recently celebrated its 30th anniversary with the annual RRQ Quilt Show, held in conjunction with the Red River Revel and featuring over 200 quilts made by local area quilters. RRQ is a not-forprofit organization formed in March of 1983. Based in the Shreveport/Bossier area, the Guild draws its membership from the extended Ark-La-Tex region. The guild typically has 225-250 members, with 80+ in attendance at the monthly meetings. RRQ is dedicated to the education and enlightenment of persons interested in quilts and the art of quilting. The purpose of the organization is to preserve the tradition, culture, and history of quilting; to promote the knowledge and understanding of all aspects of quilting; to further charitable objectives in the community; and to enjoy, encourage, and appreciate, rather than judge, the work of others. RRQ has held quilt shows in various forms and sometimes with other groups since 1985. Two-thousand thirteen marks its thirteenth year of association with the Red River Revel. QuiltQuest, a children’s art program, is held the week after the show as part of the Revel. Approximately 7,500 area fourth graders visit Riverview Hall where they are provided markers and a fabric square and
asked to draw a cheery or encouraging picture. RRQ uses these squares to make baby quilts for children in area hospitals. RRQ also hosts a Children Sew day at the Revel on Saturday of that same week. The 2014 quilt show and related activities will be October 3 through October 5, 2014 at Riverview Hall. Guild meetings are on the first Monday of each month at 1:00 p.m. and 6:30 p.m. in Shreveport at the Broadmoor Presbyterian Church, 1915 Grover Place. Annual dues are $20.00. The meetings include an educational program, a business portion, and the unabashed favorite “Show and Tell,” when members share their quilting projects—completed and works in progress— and other quilt related shows and tells. In addition to the monthly meeting, many members routinely attend one of the guild’s “Tributaries,” small groups reminiscent of the “Quilting Bee,” where members sew and chat Visitors are always welcome at the RRQ meetings, including those who’ve never quilted or sewn before! Visit their Website, www.redriverquilters.com, for more information and/or a membership application, or simply show up at one of the meetings; you’ll be warmly welcomed!
Majestic Magnolias Covered with bright green elliptic leaf clusters, so glossy that they appear to be carved from candle-wax, magnolia trees shade many a Louisiana house. Their soupbowl size, creamy-white magnolia blossoms, up to 12 inches across, growing singly at branch ends, are the official state flower for both Louisiana and Mississippi. Their perfume is entrancing. There’s more to the magnolia than you’re likely to see or smell at first encounter. They’re more widespread in eastern North America, and also native to Central and South America, the West Indies, and east and southeast Asia. And blossoms may be other than white, not only yellow, but also pink, purple, or green. Flowers usually don’t appear until the trees are about seven years old. Once flowers close, red or pink fruits take their place, sporting red, orange, or pink seeds, attached to the fruit by a strand that looks like a thread. Paleobotanists place the magnolia among the oldest
of the flowering trees, appearing in the fossil record at levels below the early bees. Like other plants that rely on beetles for pollination, the large, open blossoms give off an aroma more like spices or fermenting fruit than the smells we consider “flowery.” (Other plants that rely on beetle pollination include pond lilies and bananas.) Insects that seek sugar are unlikely to stop at magnolias, because they do not produce nectar. Homeowners who are considering planting a magnolia tree need to plan ahead, considering how large the trees grow. Although the trees grow slowly, they probably get taller than anything else around them. They handle drought well, according to the good folks at Akins Nursery. Dwarf magnolia varieties like Little Gem and Teddy Bear offer an alternative to the 60- to 80-foot magnolias, says Mark Walton of Garrison’s Greenwood Gardens. Magnolias are likely to flourish if planted anytime between October and March.
Edna Wheless, Editor / Publisher
“It’s all about us” The locals’ guide to events, people, & items of interest in & around our area.
e Welcom of the Holidays November/D ecember 2013
A little boy dressed up for church began taking his tie off when the offering plate came by. “What are you doing?” asked his mother. “The preacher said to put our ties and offerings in the plate,” said the boy. Winter 2013
Volume 4 Issue 6
Photos by Lani Duke
By Lani Duke
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MemorableDays By Chuck Lambert
Having resolved at the mature age of 12 that I would someday be the conductor of the New York Philharmonic Symphony Orchestra, it was a chilling moment that December 1970 evening when I found myself at age 32 performing on the very stage in New York City’s Lincoln Center where that venerable orchestra regularly performed. Many detours had occurred along my path to that ethereal realm. Even though I studied conducting for six years during my schooldays, when it came time for graduation, I was too poor to go to college in spite of several generous scholarship offers. I was probably going to be drafted soon anyway, so I opted for enlistment in the US Navy’s fabulous music program. Since the service bands’ mainstay was progressive jazz, I changed my major instrument from double bass to trombone. It was that decision which led me, finally, to Lincoln Center and other exciting places. Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians was a long-running, world-famous show. Through my nine years experience in Navy bands and some more years playing with bands
around Shreveport/East Texas area, I had achieved a level of proficiency which I considered to be “a rather high level of mediocrity,” i.e., I was good enough to play with most professional bands. It was that level that led to my being Fred Waring’s lead/solo trombonist from 19691971. In after show gatherings, I was privileged to meet some wonderful people, including General Jimmy Doolittle (spinal chills when I shook that heroic hand!!!); Jacquelyn Mayer, Miss America 1963; Debbie Reynolds; Margaret Whiting; and many more. Fred and his staff had put together a marvelous show and we performed it that December evening in Lincoln Center. Sophisticated, cosmopolitan NYC concertgoers do not give standing ovations; they must be earned. We earned one that night, and while it added much to the enchantment of the night for me, it obviously had an impact on Fred Waring, too. He had a heart attack right after the show. For 55 years, Waring had never missed performing in one of his shows. During the six weeks that he was (top) Fred Waring and the
(left) Photo taken in 1971
of author with Buddy Rogers, a very famous movie star, trombone player, and band leader in the 1920s and ’30s. Artist’s rendering of Pickfair as it looked in the ’30s.
forced to recuperate, many famous showbiz personalities stepped in and hosted the show in his place, including Peter Lynn Hayes, Forrest Tucker, and the co-stars of the first action “talkie” Wings, Richard Arlen and Buddy Rogers. Buddy Rogers, in addition to being a silent movie star, was a trombonist and famous bandleader of the 1920s and was called “America’s Darling” back then. After her divorce from Douglas Fairbanks, Mary Pickford, known as “America’s Sweetheart,” and Buddy were united in a much-ballyhooed marriage of “America’s Darling” and “America’s Sweetheart.” During Buddy’s tenure as substitute host of the show, we had a day off in Los Angeles. Buddy invited the whole cast to join him for lunch at Pickfair, the worldfamous mansion that Mary and Fairbanks had built in 1922, the very first one in Beverly Hills. Mary had been a recluse in her second floor bedroom for years, and the entire cast of the show stood outside her door and sang “her” song: “Let Me Call You Sweetheart.” Our wardrobe mistress had been a close friend and contemporary of Mary’s and was one of the few people Mary would admit to her cloister. Yvette said
Mary wept while we sang. Buddy, one of the most genial, gracious persons I’ve ever met, took us on a tour of the mansion. We went through the living room where, according to Buddy, everything remained in the same place that it was “the day Douglas Fairbanks left,” even down to the newspaper he had been reading. The tour ended up in the wine cellar where Buddy pulled a bottle of 1932 wine off a shelf. The excitement built as he began to uncork the aged bottle. It soon turned to sounds of people stifling nausea because the odor from the old bottle of wine was overwhelmingly awful! Those had, indeed, been two magical, memorable days. About the Author: Chuck Lambert is a native of Shreveport. He has visited and spent time in 49 of the 50 states (never made it into Montana) and many foreign nations. He has spent at least a week in every major city in the United States--except Boston. Along the way he picked up many ideas and experienced a variety of pursuits. He has decided it’s time to share some of those ideas and experiences with our readers. Chuck can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Retired Shreveport Firefighter Carter Sanders takes his grandsons, Cole Miller and Davis Merry, to visit Central Station on a field trip with Word of God Academy.
Debbie Guyton, Veretta Weiland, Alice Broome, Barbara Chaffin, Marjorie Burns, Gloria Oliver pose in a meeting room at Randle Moore Home on Kings Hwy at a meeting of Colonial Dames XVII Century. Winter 2013
Online College Classes Going back to college used to refer to night school, classes after work, or maybe a class on Saturday morning. Now college classes, for credit or to audit, are offered online from many colleges and universities. I recently received an e-mail announcing an online Modern & Contemporary American Poetry class from University of Pennsylvania. The e-mail was sent to the members of a poetry writing group from Ft. Worth, Texas. Think about that–someone in Texas sends someone else in Louisiana an e-mail about a class online that originates in Pennsylvania. Not only do we receive e-mails from friends, see online advertising, but also classes are advertised on radio, television, and outdoor billboards. Online college classes are no longer a novelty, they are a learning method that anyone interested in continuing their education can pursue. I registered for the University of Pennsylvania ModPo class, taught by Al Filreis, Director of the Center for Programs in Contemporary Writing, at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. The non-credit class has more than 36,000 students worldwide. Like any other college course, students have reading assignments, writing assignments and attend class, except the class is “online” accessed on a computer. ModPo classes are presented not only by Professor Filreis, but he also includes teaching assistants and classroom students with live webcast discussions and a phone number encouraging online students to call in with questions or comments. The phone lines are open during the live webcast and create a true interactive experience for online students. Dr. Filreis has taught poetry courses in various forms online since 1994. “I certainly think there will be an increase in online teaching as the years go by,” he said. Other online classes I’ve accessed are from Hillsdale College in Michigan. Different from ModPo, the classes from Hillsdale are lectures, presented in a more formal setting, with a focus on the U. S. Constitution, History, and Economics. According to Fred Hadra, Director of Online Learning at Hillsdale, the non-credit courses began in the Fall 2011 semester and are offered to deepen
By Dennise Aiello
an understanding for high school graduates and as a refresher course for adults of all ages. Locally billboards advertise Virginia University and University of Phoenix. Radio and television commercials encourage students to log on to Cal-Coast college on the west coast or various universities nationwide. No longer does one have to commute back and forth to college. Educational classes are offered in the comfort of one’s home or by using computers at the local library. However, online classes are not offered just from schools in distant locations or only at colleges you’ve never heard of. Shreveport and Bossier City colleges and universities also offer online courses. Bossier Parish Community College offers free classes for audit and advancement. Southern University in Shreveport also offers a wide variety of for-credit or for-audit classes online and, at a professor’s discretion, LSU-Shreveport offers classes through the internet. Registration for spring semesters start soon, but many classes are available at any time of the year. The offerings are many, and the rewards include degrees, career advancement or just keeping yourself mentally alert with new and exciting subjects. Check out the schools and courses available. You will be glad you did.
More than 36,000 students are currently registered in Professor Al Filreis’s Modern and Contemporary American Poetry online course.
Enjoy life. It has an expiration date. 26
“ Among my keepsakes is an official souvenir book titled Inside the Astrodome. It was published in conjunction with the 1965 grand opening of the new domed sports stadium in Houston, Texas. At that time the facility was heralded as the eighth wonder of the world. The paperback book itself is somewhat of a wonder, as stated on its cover: “260 pages of stories, facts, figures and illustrations on Houston’s fabulous Astrodome, the Houston Astros, Major League Baseball, the Houston Oilers, the AFL, the University of Houston Cougars, evangelist Billy Graham and the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo.” The cover also shows the $1.00 price of the book and a full-color picture of the building. Using comparisons to structures well-known at the time, one page states: “Sparkling like a rare jewel on the one-time Houston swamp, the ASTRODOME is the Taj Mahal of all stadia from Rome’s Colosseum on down to this day...built at a cost of $20,000,000...Etched 218 feet against the Texas sky...tall enough to contain the 18-story Shamrock-Hilton Hotel, or the Atlantic City Convention Hall, or the San Francisco Cow Palace with room to spare.” The things that impressed me most on my tour were the Lucite glass ceiling, the real grass playing field, the fact that clouds and rain sometimes formed inside, and that the seats were mounted on concealed rails enabling them to be repositioned for baseball, football, or various other events. Listed seating capacity ranged from 45,000 to 66,000, depending on the event. Covering 260 acres there was parking space for 30,000 cars, including 300 buses—by far the largest parking area of any facility in the country. Winter 2013
By Kathryn C. Wolfe
Other interesting facts stated are as follows: “There are six tiers of gaily-colored seats—and a seat at a price for everyone from the $1.50 pavilion seat in centerfield to luxurious sky boxes which are sold at private subscription on a 5-year lease at approximately $15,000 for a 24-seat box. Approximately 77% of the seats, 34,590, are priced at $2.50 (reserved seats) and $3.50 (box seats).” In today’s sports culture, those very prices could well be considered the ninth wonder of the world! Prices and seating capacity both increased through time and grass was replaced with Astroturf, but the building has sat vacant now for several years. National news sources reported that on November 2, 2013, the management held a giant garage sale of memorabilia including seats, lockers, and chunks of Astroturf. Crowds of thousands lined up before dawn for the event which was expected to raise around a million dollars. The other seven wonders of the world listed in this 1965 book are: Pyramids of Egypt, Hanging Gardens of Babylon, Phidias’ Statue of Zeus, Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, Tomb of Mausolus, Colossus of Rhodes, and the Pharos at Alexandria. Several of those listed had ceased to exist ages ago. That may also become the fate of the Astrodome, because on November 5, 2013, Houston area voters rejected a $217-million bond proposal to renovate the structure. Newer, bigger weatherproof sports facilities have since been built; but when I purchased my souvenir book and took my tour in the spring of 1966, the Astrodome was the unmatched record-setter of its time.
Language can be
By Elaine Marze
Have you heard about the church service where a visitor asked for prayers because her husband had been in an accident that resulted in his “scrotum” being crushed? She went on to describe the excruciating pain and a delicate operation where doctors were able to piece together the crushed remnants of Jim’s scrotum by wrapping wire around it to hold it in place. Finally, the congregation gave a collective sigh of relief (especially the men) when she told them that Jim was out of the hospital and that the doctor said in time Jim’s scrotum should recover completely. The sweating pastor asked if anyone else had any prayer concerns. A man rose and walked slowly to the podium. He said, “I’m Jim, and I just want to tell my wife the word is ‘sternum.’” I can relate to getting body parts confused. Years ago I had a horse riding accident that resulted in total deafness in my left ear and which also destroyed my Eustachian tube that affects balance and head pressure. Loss of the Eustachian tube prevents me from flying or equalizing during scuba diving. I’m not able to descend lower than 10 or 12 feet—without my head exploding. So when I accompanied my husband and son to an Arkansas lake for their certification dive, family and friends of other divers were with me on the dive barge. Some wanted to know why I was not diving so I briefly explained that I couldn’t equalize because my fallopian tube was destroyed in an accident. It sounded right at the time. They were particularly interested in how that affected equalizing. “I’m not sure,” I explained, “but the doctor said, ‘When your fallopian tube is gone, you can’t dive!’” After the certification process was over, some people told me they hated that the loss of my fallopian tube was going to prevent me from diving with them. My husband picked up on the conversation, laughed and said, “Maybe they wouldn’t think it was so odd if you’d told them it was the Eustachian tube between your ears instead of a fallopian tube that’s located amongst your female organs!” Not to say that he doesn’t have his own problems in the communications department. Never known for his sensitivity, my late husband was working in a woman’s home one day when she began telling him how proud of 28
herself she was because she’d had stomach surgery and had lost over 100 pounds. Instead of just saying, “Well, you look very nice,” he blurted out, “Man! You WERE a hefty one weren’t you ‘cause you’d still dress out about 250!” The coffee she had promised him never came. Some work places have their own lingo and code words. I’ve always liked to work temporary jobs in addition to or in between writing jobs. It is a good way to meet new people and have different experiences. Sometimes people call out of the blue offering me a job. Once I got a call from a funeral home manager who said a mutual friend recommended me for a position. I told him I was not sure about working at a funeral home, but he talked me into coming in the following Monday to “try it.” When I got to the funeral home Monday morning I was told that they had an influx of clients (dead folks) so nobody would be available to train me that day. I was told, “We have four services scheduled so we’re really busy. Just sit at the front desk and answer the phone for us. And don’t look too happy.” Considering the setting, I figured I could do the “don’t look too happy” part, so I settled in at the front desk and greeted incoming people. The phone rang. A woman asked, “Is Ezra Young there?” “What does he look like,” I asked? There was a pause, and then she said, “Well, he’s nice looking for a man in his 80’s. White hair. Nice dresser.” “I think I see him,” I said. “Just a minute and I’ll go ask him his name.” “Well, honey, if he answers you, then you have a big problem because he’s supposed to be buried today. I’m trying to find out which funeral home he’s laid out at.” After I hung up, the phone rang again. A lady asked, “Is Henry Jones there?” I’m getting the hang of this thing now so I asked her politely, “Do you want to know what time we are burying him?” “Oh, my gracious!” she screeched. “He just left the house this morning coming over to check on your airconditioning! What happened?”
Well, it took a few minutes to calm her down while I explained that this was my first day, etc. A while later the phone rang again. A man asked for Mrs. Elliot. Ha! I had this figured out now and promptly inquired, “Is she dead or alive?” Unfortunately one of the staff was walking by and nearly had a conniption fit. Apparently, asking callers if people are “dead or alive” is not considered good funeral home etiquette. But I’d about got the “tricky” lingo worked out when a man walks in with a large, paper grocery bag. He indicated I was to take the bag so I stood to take it. It was pretty heavy. Then he said, “This is my daddy. They need him for the service tomorrow.” I let go of the bag! Not being acclimated to funeral home policies, I didn’t think of “Daddy” in terms of “ashes”; I thought “pieces”—considering the size and weight of the bag and all. Oh, and dropping clients, even if they are in an urn, is also considered bad funeral home etiquette. Later, it was explained that part of my job would be to “straighten up” the dearly departed’s clothing after rambunctious loved ones got carried away in their sorrowful final farewells. I resigned at the end of the day. Many children want a pet monkey, and when our daughter was young, she saved her money in a “monkey fund” so she could buy one. She even corresponded with an organ-grinder man she met at the state fair. So when I met a woman who wanted to get rid of a capuchin monkey named Andy, I asked my husband if we could have him. Considering that his personal philosophy regarding animals was, “If I can’t eat it; I don’t want to feed it,” his response was not very positive. Our daughter, Phaedra, and I visited little Andy several times and really wanted to adopt him. One day we asked her daddy to go visit Andy with us, hoping he would be so charmed that he would let us have him. Knowing what treats Andy liked, I brought a can of mixed nuts with us hoping to bribe Andy into being friendly with the man who would be building his potential new home. Andy was loose in his owner’s garage when we got there so I told my husband to sit on the floor with us while we gave Andy nuts that he separated into little piles. The problem was that Andy wouldn’t take nuts from my husband and just ignored the man he should have been trying to impress. (Later, I found out this is typical capuchin behavior.) But time was passing and when Andy continued to ignore him I suggested, “You need to get Andy’s attention. Grab his nuts.” Winter 2013
My husband looked at me oddly, but reached out and grabbed Andy! That little monkey went berserk! “I meant his pile of nuts,” I screamed! Andy did go home with us that day—probably because my husband felt so guilty—but it was a long time before Andy let him get close again! We adults sometimes do not realize how little ears take our words literally. My daughter wanted four-yearold Makenna to stop carrying her three-year-old brother around. Her exact words were, “I’m going to tell you this nicely one time, Stop picking Colton up!” Makenna obediently put Colton down. Then she picked him up again. Her mother said (in an aggravated tone), “Makenna, what are you doing? I just told you to put him down.” Big, blue, sad eyes looked at her mother while Makenna explained, “Well, you said that was the last time you were going to tell me that, and you said you were going to say it nice.” Perfect communication skills are a wonderful goal, but all of us probably fall short of always making ourselves absolutely clear all of the time. How blessed are those who can relate with a sense of humor?
Abby and Monk
Spiritual Winds are Blowing By Steve Rainey
While it is reported that attendance is dropping by alarming rates in traditional churches, the Messianic fellowships are reported to be showing tremendous growth not only in America but around the world. One of the fastest growing areas is in Israel where many Jews are recognizing that Yeshua (Jesus) is the Messiah. Some reports say that more than 200 congregations have formed in Israel. There are also congregations springing up all across America with 34 in Florida alone. There are currently at least eight here in Louisiana. So just what is the Messianic movement? Many believe that it is the call of the Holy Spirit in these last days to reunite Jews and Christians into one body and the fellowship our Jewish messiah began. We read in the book of Acts that the early followers of Yeshua (Jesus) worshipped together on the Sabbath, studying the Torah or Law of Moses (Acts 15) and observing the dietary laws and the seven feast days of Leviticus 3. The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob gave 10 Commandments—not nine! While Messianic churches may differ in how services are conducted and the times (Friday night is the beginning of the Sabbath which extends till sundown Saturday), services are conducted in Hebrew and English. There are certain things that they all have in common: • T he belief that Yeshua (Jesus) is the Messiah of Israel and Savior of the world. • Salvation is and always has been (even in Abraham’s day) by grace through faith and not of works. • Physical Israel, while blinded, is still the chosen people of God and gentiles who are followers of Messiah have been adopted or grafted into Israel and are fellow heirs and citizens in the household of God. • Yeshua (Jesus) meant what he said in Matthew 5:19. • Leaders / teachers are called rabbi. • The rabbis serve without pay. • The Sabbath is to be observed. • While justification is by faith alone, one proves his faith by obedience to God’s Commandments, not the traditions of men—Jews or Christians. 30
A brief review of history will show that for the first one hundred years after the death and resurrection of Christ, both Jew and Gentile converts worshiped together in the synagogue on the Sabbath studying the laws of Moses. Acts 21 is proof that some 30 years after Pentecost, James, the brother of Jesus, Paul, Peter, and all of the followers of Messiah were keeping the Law of Moses. We find the Apostle Paul went into the Temple and offered blood sacrifices (Acts 21: 26, 27), and this was after his second missionary journey. The separation between Jews and gentile believers, which has continued now for some 19 hundred years, came as a result of Roman persecution and the implementation of the death penalty for anyone practicing the Jewish religion. The result was that the Gentiles moved away from the Jewish parts of the faith and forsook the faith or practice of the Apostles to the point that the vast majority of churches today look nothing like the congregation of the first century. Many believe the messianic movement is the work of the Holy Spirit bringing Christians back to Torah and Jews to Yeshua to accomplish what God always intended—that we worship Him in Spirit and in Truth (His word). For many generations Christians have worshiped in Spirit but not keeping the commandments while Jews have sought to keep the commandments but they do not have the Spirit. Christ did not come to establish a new church but to perfect the one He started all the way back to Abraham. One can only pray that we might see God once again turn the world upside down in the name of Yeshua the Messiah! Several Messianic congregations are being formed in the North Louisiana area. Anyone who is interested in attending a weekly Bible study in Shreveport or the surrounding areas that focuses on a first century Hebrew mindset rather than the Roman perception, call me at (941) 961.0357 or (903) 796.4182. For those interested: The Southeast Messianic Jewish Alliance of America Regional Conference will be held December 20-22, 2013 at Rosen Plaza, Orlando, Florida.
Smokey Mountains By Elaine Marze
Many of us travel to Tennessee, North Carolina, and the Appalachian Mountains each year. The Great Smoky Mountains National Park is reported to be the most visited national park within the United States. My late husband and I camped, hiked, and made frequent trips to this area of the country, but recently Debbie Masters Guyton and I were among the many visitors who went to Gatlinburg, Pigeon Forge, and Sevierville this year. During our time there we breakfasted twice at the Apple Barn Restaurant just to order their pecan pancakes! I try to always mention great restaurants because one thing for sure, when “seniors” get too old to hike the trails or bungee jump, they can still enjoy superb food! (I think I can hear some “Amens” out there in reader-land.) Another special mention is the Old Mill Restaurant & General Store. No matter what you order, it is delicious southern food and an abundance of it. That’s one restaurant when sharing a meal can be a good idea. Old Mill Square is kind of set back off the main strip, but the convenient way they label their lights make it simple to find. Turn at the 7th Light in Pigeon Forge and go straight back across the bridge past the mill wheel. Oh, yeah, Debbie and I both bought hand-made jewelry from craftsmen on the square too so check them out if you like native stone creations. I like quilts, and because I like quilts I always go to Lid’l Dolly’s Factory Store at Traffic Light #4. Anything that can be quilted can be found there. I was sorry to see that whereas the quilters and their sewing machines used to be out in the store, they are now behind walls, shut off to shoppers. I can understand the reasoning, because it must be distracting trying to sew with gawkers watching you work; but it was still disappointing not being able to watch them because it was unique and interesting to watch. There is a new Lumber Jack Feud Dinner Theater in Pigeon Forge that we enjoyed. The show features authentic Lumber Jacks from all across the US and other countries as well. These men compete against each other in actual events such as Log Rolling, axe throwing, and speed climbing, along with some outstanding tricks from high-flying timber dogs (the fourlegged kind). These dogs are World Champion Speed Retrieve and Extreme Vertical Competition winners. The canines are amazing in the Extreme Launch episodes. Its good family fun typical of the Dixie Stampede, but on a different scale—worthy Winter 2013
of the price though. Debbie and I rode a helicopter. It was the first time for either of us. The people at Scenic Helicopter Tours at 1419 Parkway in Sevierville were very patient with our questions and need for reassurance that their young-looking pilots were qualified to take us up in the sky 1,000 feet off the ground. They weigh you first because there is a weight limit and for the first time in my life I added pounds to my actual weight total—just in case somebody else was cheating on theirs I wanted to make sure we weren’t over the weight limit! Since I get motion sick in the back seat of a car I asked to ride up front with the pilot. I noticed that there is not much metal in the cockpit of a helicopter—just a lot of glass. It seemed like the only thing between me and the ground was a thin sheet of glass! Wait. That is because all that was between me and the ground, a thousand feet below, WAS glass! However, it was exciting, and our pilot was wonderful, and we both recommend Scenic Helicopter Tours to other visitors. Everybody should get the bird’s eye view of that scenic area from the vantage point of a helicopter! The local people are wonderful and try to assure that their visitors have a good time, and there is something for everybody to do even if it is riding around looking at beautiful scenery. The mountain culture is relaxing and restorative.
Photo by Elaine Marze
(l to r) Robert and Joan Cole, Donnell Byrd, our guide, Linda Haydel, Bonnie Byrd, Sherri and Steve Gilley.
Donnell Byrd on Zip Rider.
Alaska By Bonnie Byrd
My husband and I were privileged to go with a group of about 80 locals on an 11-day excursion to see the interior and inside passage of Alaska. We booked the trip with several of our close couple friends, and our trip began with a 36-hour journey from Shreveport to Fairbanks, Alaska. On our flight from Anchorage to Fairbanks we were treated to a beautiful view of Mt. McKinley, luckily, because when we got to Denali, it rained, and we never got a view of the magnificent mountain. Upon arriving in Fairbanks we were informed that if we could stay up till midnight, we could see the Aurora Borealis—or Northern Lights—but not one of our group had the fortitude to do it. Being in the 50-plus crowd has its advantages, but it has its drawbacks in being able to keep up the pace after 36 hours of no sleep. Sorry to say, that was our only opportunity to see the Northern Lights because the mist and rain set in and prevented us from having another chance. After a few days of seeing the sights in Fairbanks and panning for gold, we took a beautiful glass-topped train ride to Denali. Here we learned about the landscape of the interior and how it is affected by the permafrost, and I was most surprised to see so much marshland. We also learned that Alaska has a “rain forest” that was unexpected in this cold place where we were told they have two seasons, construction and winter. While in Denali, some in our tour group did get
to see bears, moose, and caribou, but I was not one of them. I did get to whitewater raft on the Nanana River, which was breathtaking. On one of our other stops, a group of eight, including myself, decided to ride the world’s longest Zip Rider. It has a vertical drop of 1,320 feet and is about a mile long. We got to take a beautiful guided bus tour up the side of the mountain in Hoonah, Alaska that takes about 40 minutes, and then we rode down the Zip Rider to the bottom in about 90 seconds. What a rush! Literally, you reach a speed of about 65 miles per hour. Our group of baby boomers still feels the need for speed sometimes and this was a great way to get it. When ocean cruisers hear the words “OSCAR, OSCAR, OSCAR, port side,” that means they believe they have spotted someone in the water on the port side of the ship. On our last day of cruising while listening to a historical talk by a Royal Canadian Mounty, we felt the engines of the ship shake and grind to a halt, then begin a slow forward motion in a circle. Rescue boats were lowered and made a grid search for about 3 hours as we continued a circle in the Pacific Canadian Inside Passage. Luckily no one was there, and after a search plane confirmed this we continued on our way to Vancouver, Canada to fly home. There were just too many beautiful sites and experiences to tell, but I highly recommend everyone take the time to see Alaska at least once.
VFW Sponsors Essay Contest Most people expect that Veterans of Foreign Wars would help other veterans, but they probably don’t know that the VFW also believes strongly in fostering patriotism among America’s youth. One way they support good citizenship is encouraging youth to examine our nation’s history through Patriot’s Pen youth essay-writing contest and Voice of Democracy scholarship program. VFW Post 2238 Commander Jim Maziarz credits the chairman of the Voice of Democracy and Patriots Pen, Chester Mullins, with the number of local submissions on the middle and high school level because Maziarz says Mullins spent many hours at area schools introducing the
program to receptive schools such as Calvary, Captain Shreve, and Caddo Middle Magnet. Mullins also collected and reviewed essays which included listening to oral presentations of CDs for VOD’s patriotic audio essays. VOD prizes and scholarships are awarded at the local, district, state, and national level. State winners will receive an all-expense paid trip to Washington, D.C. March 1-5, 2014, to tour the city, be honored by the VFW and Ladies Auxiliary and receive their portion of $152,000 in national awards. The top scholarship is $30,000. The Patriot’s Pen winner and a parent or guardian also gets an expense-paid trip to Washington, D.C. and a chance at the top prize of $5,000. This competition is open to 6th, 7th, and 8th graders, including home-schooled students. This year’s theme is “What Patriotism means to me.” VFW Post 2238 meets every second Tuesday of the month at 1245 Gary Street in Shreveport at 6:30 p.m., and they welcome new members. Interested persons can call Commander Maziarz at (318) 349-8889.
Operation Support Our Troops Needs Donations Operation Support Our Troops, Inc. has made donations to deployed and wounded U.S. military simple and easy. Donors can drop items by area businesses, and the collected objects will be packed and shipped. Tax-deductible monetary support is also needed to pay shipping cost, $1.45 per pound, and each box is 25-35 pounds. Checks should be made out to OSOT, Inc. and mailed to Shirley Olivieri-Mathies, OSOT Project Chairman, 243 Justin Avenue, Shreveport, LA 71105 or call (318) 349-9043.
Drop off locations: American Climate-Controlled Storage at 6721 Pines Rd., St. Elizabeth Ann Seton Catholic Church at 522 E. Flournoy-Lucas Rd., or any UPS Store in Shreveport or Bossier City. Needed items include: foil packed tuna, instant hot chocolate/coffee, instant oatmeal, Gatorade/Crystal Light drink mix, gum and hard candy, Sunflower seeds, toothbrushes/toothpaste, Neosporin/Band-Aids, Gold Bond/ athletes foot powder, fly swatters, and toilet paper. For more information, go to www.OSOTinc.org.
Susan Taylor’s grandchildren, Jackson, Mitchell, and Audrey, enjoy a recent open house and fundraiser at Chimp Haven. Mitchell and Audrey demonstrate how to walk like a chimp. Winter 2013
All the Way I have scoliosis which resulted in one leg getting shorter and shorter and my hips becoming wop-sided to the extent that people walking behind me would feel compelled to say stuff like, “Hey, Elaine, did you know your hips are wop-sided?” Then when I broke my leg a year ago and started putting all my weight on my “good” leg that resulted in a rapidly degenerating hip. Long story shorter, I was told by two different orthopedic doctors this year that I needed a hip replacement. I had never been to a chiropractor in my life, but when a friend advised me that Dr. Maggio could help me, I made an appointment with him because I did NOT want hip surgery. I am so thankful I did because the results have been phenomenal! Not only did he uncurve my spine that a physician told me was unfixable, but my short leg is no longer
By Elaine Marze
shorter than the other one! I still have a little problem with my hip, but not to the extent that I need surgery! I went from barely walking with extreme pain to walking with only a little occasional pain. That is a big, amazing deal for me because I regard surgery as the last option, and Dr. Maggio has given me a straight spine and even hips for the first time in years! In addition to his weekly radio show, Dr. Maggio is also a team physician for LA Tech University and a wellness advisory counselor for USA Wrestling, Judo, and Weight Lifting. He is founder of ALL THE WAY HEALTH CENTER, and I highly recommend that anybody with aches and pains call and make an appointment to see him. See page 3 for Dr. Maggio’s ad
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Published on Dec 3, 2013