Slidell Magazine, February 2021

THE OFFICIAL MAGAZINE OF SLIDELL

Vol. 124 February 2021

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Editor’s Letter This is my rudimentary drawing of the concept for this month’s beautiful cover art, “Amber Waves.” What I lack in artistic talent, I make up for in imagination and love for our country.

Thank God I have talented friends who can take my ideas and turn them into beautiful works of art. Thank you, thank you Joshua Wichterich for this cover! We needed this!

Look closely at the cover and you’ll find many elements that combine to make “Amber Waves” as symbolic as it is beautiful.

In the painting, we see Lady Liberty seated in amber fields of grain, stitching the American flag back together after it has been torn. This is an obvious nod to the song, “America the Beautiful” and a visual representation of my hope for our country to mend and become whole again.

The image itself hearkens back to Betsy Ross and the story of her creating the very first American flag for General George Washington in 1776, during the Revolutionary War. I also thought of the famous Pieta statue by Michelangelo.

Although the Pieta may be thought of as sorrowful, we, as Christians, know that image represents our salvation. If we have FAITH. Finally, the cover art shows Lady Liberty bathed in an ethereal glow, eminating from the heavens above her, reminding us all that we are one nation, under God, indivisible.

I hope this month’s cover is as prophetic as it is pretty.

“The cement of this union is the heart-blood of every American.” ~Thomas Jefferson

COVER: “AMBER WAVES”

MAGAZINE STAFF Kendra Maness Editor / Publisher Editor@slidellmag.com

Kendra Maness Editor / Publisher

Michael Bell Graphic Designer Graphics@slidellmag.com

CONTRIBUTING WRITERS John Case “The Storyteller”

Ted Lewis Slidell History

Charlotte Collins Extraordinary Slidell Neighbors

Scarlett Maness Four-Sight

Mike Rich Making Cents of Your Money

Jeff Perret, DVM Pet Points

Donna Bush Stories Through My Lens

Ronda M. Gabb Legal-Ease

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Joshua Wichterich Amber Waves, which was specifically created for Slidell Magazine, was created to inspire unity and healing within our beautiful country.

Joshua continues in Fine Art, developing his art series’, Art From The Soul and The Red-Haired Girl, which contains a prize-winning piece that was featured in the Mixed Media exhibition at City Hall in Slidell. Joshua is also an award-winning author and children’s book illustrator, having worked on 55+ children’s books.

Joshua also recently received a 5-star reward from Readers’ Favorite for his epic fantasy book Chronicles of The Last Legend. You can find more books and his 5-star book on Amazon.com, Barnes&Noble.com, Bam.com, Walmart.com, and other online retailers. Check out the sites below for more of Joshua’s work. www.TheLastLegendAwakened.com www.facebook.com/jwichterichART www.instagram.com/jwichterichART www.facebook.com/JoshuaB.WichterichFreelanceIllustrator

PO Box 4147 Slidell, LA 70459 www.slidellmag.com 985-789-0687 5

Zachary Gray

A biography by Charlotte Collins

“Knowledge is the antidote to fear.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

To watch Zach in one of his videos, it might be tempting to describe him as “The Snake Whisperer.” But that would be selling him short. Talking with him, I discovered a young man with a passion for discovering local hidden wildlife, as well as the compassion to expand his studies to pursue conservation in southern Louisiana. Zach isn’t just out to save wildlife, but also to introduce people to creatures they may otherwise avoid out of fear and lack of information.

Standing in the open doors to his garage, I immediately recognized the lean, blonde haired young man from his videos. He was as open and friendly as he appears on screen. He couldn’t wait to show me his “furries” within what I call “Zach’s Zoo.” I saw the cutest flying squirrels all curled up in a circle, a beautiful yellow Python with glassy amber eyes, many more types of snakes, a terrapin, a gator, and a huge black & white patterned Tegu lizard. It was amazing to learn the lengths to which Zach had to go in order to be get a permit to keep the endangered species like the terrapin turtle. He taught me about the unique breeding research that was under way and showed me the babies. Each animal 6

had its own comfy environment that Zach had either built or repurposed to fit each creature’s natural habitat they would have sought in the wild. Even though we were masked, I could see the gleam in his eyes that showed his pride in the level of comfort each species was afforded. Would you be surprised to know that our own Slidell neighbor, Zach, was the first to breed rainbow snakes in captivity? I was, and it goes to show how many fascinating neighbors we have yet to meet.

Just as I was about to sit down to begin making notes, Zach delighted me by saying there were many more friends to meet in the backyard; so, off we went!

I saw a variety of turtles, and learned the differences between endangered Terrapin, box, soft shelled, snapping, and alligator snapping turtles. Picking up the alligator snapping turtle, he showed me how much more dangerous their beak and claws were. The video with Zach snorkeling in our muddy southern Louisiana waters and pulling out a big alligator snapping turtle flashed through my mind. I recall a shiver when I put these images together. Of course, Zach knows just how to grab and hold them so that the animals aren’t panicked.

Next, we explored the largest cage with a huge opossum snuggled in the bed Zach had created for him. As he slid his hand in to pet “Momo,” the animal yawned, revealing both sets of razor sharp teeth. I couldn’t help but hold my breath. The roly-poly fellow just licked Zach’s hand like a puppy.

It turns out Zach has raised him from a tiny little four-inch baby. Someone had killed his momma in their chicken coop, then called Zach when they found her babies. He yawned again once he detected no treats, and curled back up to finish his nap.

It was amazing to hear how much effort it takes to keep these enclosures clean, the animals fed with highly specialized meals, and organize their exercise routines. Zach drives all over Louisiana and the Coast, finding the little eels for the rainbow snake. There is so much more than I imagined caring for rehabilitating wildlife.

After marveling over a hand designed portable kennel for rescuing larger wildlife (bobcats, coyotes and foxes), we headed back in the garage to sit and talk. I was very curious to find out how Zach got started in all of this.“It started very casually. My dad (Curtis

Gray) was always into wildlife around New Orleans when he was young. He is the one who built a love for small creatures in me. We would go around Metairie where we lived to find some interesting wildlife that no one else would have noticed. I first got into insects and started learning all about bugs and entomology. As I got older, I started working with every kind of animal I could find. Then, around the age of 15, I had an idea to start filming a wildlife adventure. I loved watching Steve Irwin. So, when I would go out and find these animals, I decided to document them with pictures. I might keep the new species for a little while, let them go, or just enjoy their pictures.

But I never shared it with anybody except those closest to me. I figured out kind of early on that this is exactly what I wanted to do with my future. At some point, I resolved to be a zoologist, study more animals, and help with conservation efforts throughout my home state.”

I have to commend his parents, Curtis and Rhonda, for giving their son the confidence to follow his heart, while allowing their home to be turned into a wildlife adventure. They agreed with his decision to put a hold on his college career until COVID could run its course, hoping like we all are, that it might only

be for a year. For now, Zach is putting his learning skills into photography, videography, lighting, camera angles, compositional techniques, and editing software. First, he shot a video and uploaded it on YouTube. Then, he asked his dad to shoot the video, so he could rehearse being in front of the camera. In the beginning, he posted a few random internet videos that were meant to educate people about animals.

Eventually, he started posting them on a weekly basis, and his following grew. Now he has his own small crew.

Through the viewers and ads, he is able to pay an editor, a videographer, and somebody to help him with the animals. At age 19, Zach brings in enough income to make these videos his full time job. Pretty impressive!

The dry aquarium behind Zach’s head suddenly came to life. A beautiful cherry red and black striped Mud snake stood up on its tail and started sniffing the screen cover. I could see his little black tongue reaching out to figure out who we were, and what we were doing. Next thing I knew, the snake was banging the top gently but repetitively. Zach smiled fondly at him and explained, “With all of our activity, he thinks I’m about to feed him. He is trying to get our attention. It’s his way of saying hello!” Thinking I would get to

see the rare amphiuma that is his sole source of food, I got excited myself. The future Zoologist had already told me that humans rarely see them lurking in the waters of Louisiana. Going to the freezer, he pulled out a baggie of frozen amphiumas. Since the snake eats at night, there was time for them to thaw before supper, but I would not be there long enough to watch this adventure. I hope to visit again soon, as the snake is set to be released in the Spring.

As with so many of my “Fascinating Slidell Neighbors,” Zach’s path to his passion

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included many offshoots. While it began as a hobby, then a desire to share his passion, soon he yearned to educate his viewers. “I’ve seen a lot of amazing, natural environments in Louisiana. Then, I would go back and find the entire area had been clear cut. It was sickening to realize nobody else would ever get to see or enjoy that place again. Now I film the landscape in addition to the inhabitants.”

I related to this. I remember buying the first house in what would later become a new subdivision in Georgia. We had wooded hills, creeks, deer, rabbit warrens and dens of foxes that all vanished overnight. Neither my son, my husband or I could even speak when we walked up to the trees sprawled everywhere. We just kept asking aloud what happened to the poor rabbits and foxes hunkered in their underground homes.

I experienced the same wave of profound understanding about the lack of human awareness in that instant.

Zach illuminated his goal by stating, “If my videos can help, even just a little bit, we may eventually be able to save some of these lands and the animals within them that we can’t see. There are safe ways, environmentally friendly ways, to develop land. Other states do a much better job than Louisiana by incorporating green methods toward land development.” Seeing my inquisitive look, he expounded,

“The problem is that it’s private land, so people can do whatever is quick and efficient. It’s a much better practice to cut three or four trees at a time, allowing minuscule wildlife to relocate nearby. Then, the larger prey, like rabbits and owls, may begin to expand their range. By the time they are starting construction, there is much less disruption and devastation to local wildlife and their habitat. These creatures are more apt to return once things quiet down. To clear, say 100 trees, putting a house there and a field, and then replanting, is easier for bulldozing and construction, but has a lasting effect on animals. If we can streamline what we use, and leave animals around, that’s really better for nature in general. I understand that’s obviously inconvenient. But my job and my goal is to show people how important it is to conserve habitats, and what they can do to help animals remain in their area. If you start by showing people how to enjoy seeing wildlife, the more we all win on this planet.

I wish the older trees I’ve enjoyed, those 100 years and older, were still around. We plant trees with the intention of enjoying them now, but future generations are going to benefit even more if we protect them.” I thought back to his example of clearing for construction, then replanting. Now we are spending billions, rebuilding the wetlands around us, after ignoring their diminishment in the past decades.

Left: Zach on his family farm in Poplarville. Right: Zach with parents Rhonda and Curtis and brother Curtis.

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Zach’s love for exploring our local woodlands and marshes led to rescuing animals as an unintentional hobby. He started by finding baby squirrels that had fallen out of a tree, nursing them, and eventually releasing them where he found them. Then he began rescuing snakes, and any creature needing his intervention. The more connections he made with rescue agencies and neighbors with hurt animals, the more he found himself involved within the community. He even gets calls from 911. Callers contact 911 because they find a non-venomous snake in their home. “Oftentimes, a policeman will show up and they’re not animal experts.

So when they see a snake, they only know to either move it outside or kill it. I’ll relocate wildlife for people in the community for free, but I don’t do anything with domesticated animals.”

Looking around at the aquariums, terrariums, and handmade wooden enclosures, Zach was quick to add, “I don’t like holding on to a bunch of animals in confined spaces. My rescues are more of a community service. If I can have an animal live on a piece of land and not feel trapped or confined, then that’s really the goal. I want people to see them in their native habitat, doing what they do naturally.”

The Grays have a farm in Poplarville, Mississippi where Zach keeps farm animals as well as the larger wildlife he may be rehabilitating. He and his Dad are there most days. Since Curtis is a pastor, he can be flexible, so he and Zach coordinate their schedules. As the future zoologist describes, “We are

probably one of the busiest families in Louisiana. We are super blessed and get to have a lot more fun with work than most people, and get to follow our passion. We go fishing, search for animals, plus we constantly get to help other people in need.”

This flexibility proved invaluable toward producing “Life’s Wild Adventures,” Zach’s channel on YouTube. His videos promote conservation, education, and enrichment. Zach, his dad, and crew members go out seeking new wildlife adventures every week. “I’m constantly having to learn new things about my own area. My most watched video has close to 3 million views, and the second one after that has close to 2 million views.

We have over 50,000 followers at this point, and we get 5,000 to 6,000 new views a day worldwide!” That is very impressive for a 19-year-old who began this part of his journey within the last year or two.

Now other animals surrounding us were waking up. As my attention

turned to those tanks, I learned that the Mud snake and Rainbow snake are research animals. He keeps both species to compare their diets and learn their habits. Zach’s brother found the beautiful Mud snake in the middle of the road, very sick and near death.

Zack administered a penicillin shot and some antibiotics and saved his life.

He summed up, “What I’m doing right now is a stepping stone toward my future. I don’t see YouTube as my forever career, even though it’s something I am going to continue to do. I want to establish an educational and research facility here in South Louisiana, where people can come in and have a hands on learning experience with animals. The animals won’t be nearly as confined and people are getting to interact with animals in a natural setting.” Enthusiastically, Zach straightened and foretold, “The goal would be for the educational facility to fund the research and conservation efforts behind the scenes. The repopulation of animals in certain areas is something I hope for as well.”

Let me give you a snippet of the educational aspect of his endeavors. He just finished filming a documentary in East New Orleans called “Rattlesnakes in the City.” I had no idea that area is known for being populated with canebrake rattlesnakes. This species is widespread throughout the United States, and has the most number of documented bites and the most deaths of any snake in the U.S., so it is technically the most deadly rattlesnake in this area. Who knew that they tend to live on the edges of neighborhoods, 9

under trash and rubbish? Zach explained, “The goal of this documentary is to show people the dangerous environments we’re creating that are not at all natural. The problem is that we’re attracting rattlesnakes way too close to people that are completely unaware. Somehow, we need to stop the littering, so that the rattlesnakes go back to their remote land. We got some very interesting shots. I lifted a discarded mattress, and a big old rattlesnake was under it. I got to show these improper litter practices that exist in the city, and the need for removal of large objects from the environment. Then I found a five foot canebrake rattlesnake under a big fallen sign right along the side of the road. I lifted it out, picked it up, and filmed it!” His eyes glimmered as he held his arm up and out. Now, remember, he said this is one of the most dangerous snakes we have. Then he reminded his audience not to mess with these snakes. He explained the professional nature of his training and that if he had been bitten, he would most likely die. Growing more serious, he added, “I only handle animals I feel confident around. I don’t normally handle venomous snakes and I don’t like to play with danger. But if I’m very confident about a particular animal’s disposition and it is relaxed, calm, and not being aggressive, I can handle it correctly. I do like to show that a snake is not a demon creature whose whole purpose is to kill you. It’s just an animal living in its environment that it has learned to adapt to, because of our negligence.”

was 30 feet inside that culvert. He called me, and I yelled out my location. I had to crawl backwards about 30 feet with the four foot gator. Dad shot us walking out of the pipe, and we eventually released him back into the marsh. I mostly work with smaller gators, but I’ve started working with six foot and larger ones. My goal is to eventually start tracking the larger ones.”

I could hardly imagine how his mom, Rhonda, must have felt about him holding a five foot long rattlesnake for his audience. Zach laughed and admitted, “She wasn’t crazy about me holding venomous snakes. But once she saw my educational videos, she became very supportive.”

Zach hopes to go to Tulane this Spring. He hopes to grow his video business into a very professional series. While his work will still be focused on LA and MS, he would also like to include some travel shoots.

He laughed and told me a story about rescuing a gator from someone’s drainage culvert in front of their yard in a Slidell neighborhood. His mom called and casually asked what he was doing. When she learned about the rescue effort, she thought it would make a great video. But Zach just happened upon the situation and didn’t have the camera. She made her husband jump up and go film the action. Zach’s eyes were gleeful as he chuckled, “By the time Dad arrived, I 10

I learned that alligator hunting in Louisiana is a big thing, and we have a great conservation setting for them. We have more gators than any other state and we’ve done a great job taking care of the smaller ones. But we haven’t done a great job with the bigger ones, because they are picked off as trophies or poached, even if hunters don’t have a permit for them. So that’s one impetus for why Zach is hoping to work with gators more in the future. Zach related, “A bigger gator will eat a smaller one, but the smarter ones tend to know not to go into an area where a 16 foot gator is living.

So they kind of all have their own stretches of river. Now the smaller ones live together a bit longer. The babies may stay around the nest site for protection for up to four years.

Eventually, once they reach about four to five feet, mom will start chasing them off a little bit, and then they’ve got to go into areas and find places where other gators don’t live.” I appreciated hearing all of this, as I love watching the families of gators come and go on my bayou, and had so many questions.

That beautiful Mud snake and the Python were getting very restless, and I sensed I was cutting into their supper time.

Reluctantly, I said goodbye to all of the furries, paddlers and slithers, as well as their friend Zach. I am now a follower of “Life’s Wild Adventures,” and look forward to hearing about his progress toward his own education. One day, I hope to spend hours in Zach’s Zoology and Conservation Facility!

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The

Storyteller

VALENTINE EDITOR’S NOTE: This story was originally printed in the February 2013 edition of Slidell Magazine. It is one of my favorites from The Storyteller. You can also find it in John’s first book, Bogue Chitto Flats, along with dozens of other gems. If you don’t already have a copy, do yourself a favor and get one! www.boguechittoflats.com

My first memory is that the windows were about five feet off the floor of the old school building. This comes to mind because I remember the window ledge being at a height that you could rest your chin on. The truth is, in grammar school, we were not that tall; so I suppose the windows were about three feet from the floor.

Underneath the window was a wooden molding that ran the entire length of the exterior wall of the classroom and this would be where envelopes were tacked. These envelopes were large and were given to each child by the school. You could take the envelope home and decorate

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it, and this is what some did, especially the girls. Most of us boys just wrote our names on the outside. We did not have time for things like that; but we did look forward to the heart shaped cookies that the room mothers would bring Valentine afternoon. The decorated or not-so-decorated envelopes would serve as the depository for the Valentines that we would receive from our fellow classmates The molding where the packages were attached was well-worn, showing evidence of many years of “Be My Valentine” wishes.

Even at a young age, I was impressed at the talent with which some of the envelopes were decorated. Looking back, I am sure these were done by the mothers trying to relive their youth through the lives of their daughters. Of all the envelopes that were hung on the wall, none stood out more than Sandra’s.

Except for the personal decorating, all the envelopes that were issued were alike; but, somehow, every year Sandra lost hers and she replaced it with the most elaborately decorated of all. One year it had real flowers attached.

Her mother just happened to be a florist.

The most unusual thing was that the replacement envelope was smaller than the ones issued by the school. This was intentional, to make the other girls jealous. Her envelope would be brimming with valentines and give the appearance that she got more than anyone else.

Sandra was not what you would call a sweet child.

She would throw temper tantrums in front of the class and pull other girls’ hair. Once, she even slapped one of the boys because he stuck a note on the back of her dress that said “Kick Me Please.” Needless to say, she was not our favorite classmate.

mean sixty years retro. I have seen pictures of women in the 1890’s that look just like her. Her hair was parted down the middle, pulled tightly to the back of her head and fashioned in a round bun.

She wore a white, long sleeve blouse with not-too-frilly lace on the front. It had a high collar and in the center was a large broach. This just made her Adam’s apple appear larger. The shoulders of the blouse were puffed and she wore something like men’s cufflinks at her wrist.

Her dress was black and extended down to about six inches above her ankles. Then, her shoes; these are what I remember most. They had a slight heel, and the leather came up to the top of her ankles and was laced up all the way. She had a little hook device that she would use to tighten the laces on occasion. Finally, she wore some kind of stockings that could be seen in that six inches of exposed body. They looked like men’s long john underwear.

In addition to this, she was ugly.

She was pretty, however, and had the blondest hair of any child in our school. Little did we know, her mother was coloring it even at that young age. I have recently learned from a mutual friend that her mother used lemon juice and peroxide.

We used to play a game. We called it “How Ugly is Miss Inez?”

The rules were that you had to give everyone in the class a valentine. Even if you did not like them, you were required to give one to each classmate. One of the local churches protested as they did not think it appropriate for boys to give boys, or girls to give girls, valentines. I suppose this was the forerunner of the same sex marriage debate. Imagine, it all began in my very own grammar school, fifty-five years ago. After this, your parents could opt you out of the valentine exchange, but I don’t think anyone did.

Some other kid would add, “Yes, she is so ugly she would scare a booger.”

In those days, you had one teacher all day long for the entire year. If she did not like you, or you did not like her, it was too bad. It would be nine months of purgatory for both of you. Such was the case with my fourth grade teacher, Miss Inez. Even today, I don’t like her and completely understand why she was a Miss and not a Mrs. In the 1950’s, she dressed retro, and I

Some kid would say, “Do you know how ugly Miss Inez is?”

Then the reply could be any of the following: “So ugly she would make a maggot gag.”

And someone would ultimately say that she was so ugly that her mother had to tie a pork chop around her neck so the dogs would play with her.

She was a task master and the things that were supposed to be fun she made drudgery. She taught, corrected, scolded and criticized us from the morning bell until the dismissal bell. Ohhh, she was mean. I remember even our class play, which was supposed to be fun, she turned into a posture lesson. We all had to go through play practice with a book balanced on our heads. What this did for posture or teaching us the appropriate way to walk is beside me.

In my case, one of my lines had the word “our” in it. She kept me after school for one hour, making me pronounce it differently. It sounded to me like I was

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pronouncing it just like she was, but she assured me she had never spoken in such a rural dialect.

About three weeks prior to Valentine’s Day, she passed out the envelopes and, in true schoolmarm fashion, she gave us an assignment. We had to create a different, homemade valentine for each classmate. The verse written inside would be our literature grade, the design would be our art grade, and the writing would be our cursive grade.

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I turned in my first ten for her approval. Instead of telling me the errors, and there were plenty, she just took a red pen and marked on each one. I had to redo them from scratch. She said my verse had poor meter, my artwork was not conducive to Valentine’s Day, and my cursive was a mixture of print and cursive, which I use to this day, but not good in her opinion.

I was not the only one she picked on, but she clearly picked on the boys more than the girls. Just for fun, I made a valentine for her. I never intended for her to get it, but things never worked out in a good way for her and me.

I did my best to make it pretty on the outside so it would look authentic. On the inside I wrote: Ole Miss Inez was a merry old soul, She had a tin pan belly And a rubber A** hole.

I showed it to some of the boys in the class and they thought it was funny. Sandra snatched it from one of my friends and immediately took it to the front of the room and gave it to Miss Inez. I do not think I have ever seen more anger displayed on the face of anyone. She started toward me and grabbed me by the ear, pulling me down the hall, down the stairs, and all the way to the principal’s office. I sat outside of the closed door while she described my transgressions on the other side. Then she came out, walked past me without looking, and went back to the classroom as I sat on the other side of the door that remained closed.

In about thirty seconds, I heard the loudest laughing that I ever heard come from behind a principal’s door. I knew then I would not get a paddling and was somewhat relieved. Finally, the principal came out. He tried to be

authoritative and stern but he could hardly contain his laughter. He told me that something like that should never happen again, and it did not. But something else did.

I swore vengeance on Sandra and I always wanted to torment Miss Inez. She, too, had an envelope on the wall for us to deposit our valentines addressed to her. I found one of Sandra’s valentines a few days earlier that she had discarded to make corrections as ordered by Miss Inez.

For some reason, our school had been invaded by ants.

They were everywhere and care was taken to not allow any sweets in the classroom. I took Sandra’s valentine and spread syrup on it and secretly put it in Miss Inez’s envelope.

By the afternoon of Valentine’s Day, a steady stream of little black ants were marching up the wall and into her package. She freaked out and broke out into hives as she did when she got excited; but, at this point, she did not have any idea why the ants were attracted to her envelope and no one else’s. She called the janitor.

He removed the package and poured all the contents in a bucket. Soon, Sandra was discovered as the culprit and was sent to the principal’s office. She missed the heart shaped cookies the room mothers brought. Miss Inez asked for someone from the principal’s office to watch her class because she needed to go home. I had killed two birds with one stone, and I could tell the rest of the class was proud of me. I did not have to say a word, but I was the hero on that Valentine’s Day. I think there was something good that came of this incident, however. As I remember, somehow between the fourth and fifth grade, Sandra’s personality changed.

I don’t know if she just matured or she realized that no matter what her mom did for her, her mom could not make friends for her. When we graduated seven years later, she was a class favorite. I can’t say the same for Miss Inez.

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by: Mike Rich, CFP® | Pontchartrain Investment Management

My Wife, the Salami Smuggler In December 2019, Mary and I applied for the Global Entry card. It’s the Department of Homeland Security program that allows citizens to reenter the U.S. easily upon returning from travel abroad. The card also includes the Transportation Security Administration’s PreCheck feature, which speeds up the security check-in process prior to boarding a plane. The card, which is good for five years, costs only a hundred bucks, and Mary and I figured it was worth the money to save some time while traveling abroad (if we ever get to do that again!).

I received my approval in less than a month and got my card. For Mary, however, no such luck. Every time I checked the website, her application was “pending approval.” This went on for months, and then the coronavirus hit. Anything having to do with federal government information processing came

to a near stand-still. Mary’s application would have to wait, and we figured the pandemic was the culprit.

Mary and I have had the good fortune to be able to travel to Europe three times in the past four years. On all of our travels into and out of the country, I have breezed through the security lines. However, on every trip we have taken, Mary has been singled out by the screeners for “special” treatment.

During our most recent trip, when we were returning from London, she actually had to unpack her suitcase for the screener. The authorities never told her why she was being looked at more carefully, and we just wrote it off as a case of someone else out there who has her name on a list and the name is Mary Rich. Irritating, but we could deal with it.

Lo and behold, Mary received her Global Entry approval right before Christmas,

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one year after we had both applied.

During her interview, the border security agent asked her if she had ever tried to bring meat – yes, meat! – into the U.S. from abroad. “Well, yes, actually,” she said, “I was in Rome 20 years ago, and, when I was coming back to the states, I bought a salami at one of the airport stores to bring home as a souvenir for my husband. The store clerk told me it would be OK to bring it on the plane.” She told the interviewer that, when she went through security to board her flight, she was told that she could not bring the salami onto the plane, and that it was considered contraband. The security agent took the salami from her, and Mary flew home empty-handed.

The border agent smiled as Mary told her story and said, “Well that explains why your Global Entry card took so long to get approved. The salami

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incident is in your travel record, and it also explains why security agents do a deep-dive on you whenever you travel. It shouldn’t be a problem in the future, now that we’ve approved your application.”

My wife, the would-be salami smuggler.

So, what does Mary’s adventure have to do with your money?

As a financial advisor, I read articles nearly every week about how people are stressed out about money: “Can I afford this house? Why is there never any money left at the end of the month?

How can I possibly pay off my student loans? Will I ever be able to retire?

What’s going to happen if I’m old and sick and need someone to take care of me?” The list goes on, and the stress goes up. Our money lives can be like that. We know what we should be doing with our money to plan for the future, but we don’t do it for any number of reasons, some of which are important: busy lives, job demands, the kid’s dance

recital, whatever. The problem is that many of us put off important financial moves for so long that, before we know it, the years go by and…oops! Just like Mary and her salami, something she did 20 years ago and forgot about had lasting effects and eventually became kind of irritating. We were able to fix it, but – unlike attempted salami-smuggling – a lot of money problems simply cannot be fixed after the fact.

How can you try to avoid this? Simple.

Meet with me for a review of your situation and make a financial plan.

For many folks, this is the most difficult step in the process, primarily because it requires an active decision to get

started. However, here’s what I have observed: the folks who take this first step have won half the battle. Here’s the deal: meet with me for 60 minutes.

We can accomplish a lot in an hour.

At the end of our meeting, we’ll pretty much know if it makes sense to move forward. It’s that simple, and my guess is that your stress level will notch down a bit, even if you choose to do nothing more than meet with me to find out where you stand financially.

Our meeting is free, and I won’t give you any baloney…or salami. Call me today.

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The opinions voiced in this material are for general information only and are not intended to provide specific advice or recommendations for any individual.

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20

~ Mr. Mardi Gras

by Kendra Maness, Editor

My father was Mr. Mardi Gras.

He was also Elvis Presley and God and the Tin Man. Okay, he wasn’t really, but the possibility was very real in my young mind. My father passed away unexpectedly when I was five years old. I would hear stories amongst my relatives that made Dad seem larger-than-life, as often happens after someone dies.

Just a few days after Dad passed, Elvis died. I remember watching TV and seeing so many people cry, just like my family. Maybe Dad was Elvis?

My father, Carroll Maness, had been a coach and one of the founders of the Slidell Youth Football Association. My mother told me that Dad was needed in heaven to teach the angels how to beat the devils at football. My childhood fear of thunderstorms was calmed when Mom explained that lightening was Dad’s team of angels scoring, and the thunder was applause from the people in heaven. Maybe Dad was God? A flamboyant, bold yellow Mardi Gras poster hung in our otherwise austere livingroom my entire life. On it was a picture of Dad dressed as the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz. When I asked Mom about it, she explained that Dad wasn’t the real Tin Man, he just loved carnival and dressing up. She called him “Mr. Mardi Gras.”

Mardi Gras was a big deal to my parents. There are dozens of pictures of them in elaborate homemade costumes at Mardi Gras parades and balls. Mother could sew and Dad was a McGyver-type tinkerer. He was a self-taught welder and, from what I’ve been told, a creative and fun fellow. He made the Tin Man suit from scratch in 1969. The body was made from thin sheets of aluminum and tin. The fabric that formed the joints and pelvis of his costume was “borrowed” from the Space Program through his job at NASA. Once in the suit, Dad couldn’t eat or drink without assistance and he couldn’t sit at all. My mother would hold cups with long straws for beer. In the poster photo, the long ash on his filterless Pall Mall cigarette was the result of not being

able to reach his mouth. However, he did design a method for using the bathroom within the suit. Brilliant!

On Fat Tuesday 1969, my great-uncle laid Dad in the back of a station wagon for transport to the Canal Street parade route. Once there, he caused a SENSATION. Throngs of people gathered around him for pictures. A short time later, the police came to escort my dad to the processional in front of a viewing stand, where Rex and his court gave my father a standing ovation. Thanks to photographer Jack Beech, my family has this moment forever memorialized on a poster.

Once we were grown and living on our own, my sisters and I argued over who would get the poster to hang in their home. When I was 22 years old, I struck out in search of a copy. These were the days before internet (at least for me) so I went to the French Quarter to the address listed on the poster. No, they didn’t have any additional copies. Yes, they were familiar with the photographer, although he had long since retired. After a few calls to neighboring shops, I had a phone number for Jack Beech.

Mr. Beech was delighted with my call and my quest, although saddened to hear the Tin Man he remembered so well had passed away. No, he didn’t have any of the posters, nor any pictures. But, he did know where I could find them. He had sold his entire photography portfolio a decade previously to Blaine Kern.

I contacted Blaine Kern Studios and left a rambling message on the answering machine. A few days later, Blaine’s daughter called with an invitation to meet her at Mardi Gras World.

We toured the warehouse with its towering three-story-high animal figures, brightly painted flowers as big as cars, and mechanical arms waving from 20-foot tall hula girls. We chatted about our dads as we walked through the winding halls and up the stairs to the second floor Administration office. On her desk, waiting for me, was an envelope containing an 8x10 picture of the Tin Man, my dad. Attached to the print was a sealed plastic bag with the original photo negative.

I hesitated to take the negative, knowing it was the only copy.

She insisted, saying, “I want you and your sisters to have it. I know how special a daughter’s relationship is with her father.”

After all, her dad was Mr. Mardi Gras too.

21

Slidell: Our History Story by Ted Lewis

The A.J. Champagne Fire Station Ed Poppler admits to getting more than a little sentimental about the pending demolition of the A.J. Champagne Fire Station.

After all, the venerable facility at Sgt. Alfred Drive and Bouscaren Street in Olde Towne Slidell, constructed in 1952, was the first home of St. Tammany Fire District No. 1. And Poppler, who retired in 1999, was the department’s longest serving Chief, having been named to the post in 1978.

“It’s home to me,” said Poppler, who joined the department in 1968. “I started there, and I finished there. It’s the heart of the department and always will be.”

That’s partially why the new Central Station is going to be rebuilt on the same spot, with completion expected in mid-2022, although the COVID pandemic already has delayed the five-day demolition from

January to February, another sign of our uncertain times.

What is certain is that almost 70 years later, the district has more than doubled in size, from 53 to 122 square miles; and the number of people served has grown from less than 5,000 to more than 100,000.

Central Station remains the department’s busiest of its eight firehouses, receiving almost 10,000 calls in 2020. So there’s little incentive to find another location.

“Somebody back then knew what they were doing,” said current chief Chris Kaufmann of the once and future location.

Added Curtis Crawford, who joined the Slidell Volunteer Firemen’s Association in 1954 and was the group’s president for five years before his retirement in 1974, “Right here is where it all began. I can’t imagine moving it somewhere else.”

Opening picture: Circa 1926, Carol Pravata sits at the wheel of Slidell’s only fire truck, the American La France. Frank Carroll is pictured in the foreground. The scene is the First St. side of the Triangle Garage, located at First and Front.

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But nostalgia notwithstanding, everyone agrees that the old building itself is past its prime.

Named for the first secretary-treasurer of the district’s Board of Commissioners, A.J. Champagne, the facility has been renovated several times. (According to Crawford, “A.J. Champagne was the most dedicated member we ever had.”) But when you’re hemmed in, you can only go up instead of out and even a second story did little to alleviate the dated, cramped quarters.

Plus, the building has flooded three times – in 1983, 1995 and 2005 when Katrina left five feet of water inside. Obviously the ground floor needs elevating. Even if, God forbid, there’s another flood event, restoring service will be easier and quicker.

Finally, ladder trucks exiting on Bouscaren find that initial turn much tighter than their smaller predecessors from decades past.

The new garages will open on Sgt. Alfred, improving street access in a situation where time is of the utmost.

Although Champagne Station is nobody’s idea of an architectural treasure (multiple renovations made on top of the original 1950s functionality will do that), the new facility’s design will fit in with the rest of Olde Towne’s ambience, perhaps even better than some of its neighbors like the police department. The Historic Preservation Committee has signed off on that item.

Those items being checked off, there’s unanimous agreement that this is something that needs doing.

“I was saying that before I retired and that was more than 20 years ago,” Poppler said. “There were things, like it having a flat roof, which were always a problem.

You just have to adjust to the times. At least we’re able to rebuild where we were because moving would have been costprohibitive and really changed the dynamic of how we serve the city.”

Cost aside, staying put was pretty much always a given.

“Sgt. Alfred is the ideal street artery for us,” Kaufmann said. “It’s a straight shot from one end of town to the other, but without as much traffic as you usually find on Front Street. And we didn’t want it off a main throughfare either. We wanted our Central Station to be a visible landmark that people will come by to visit and get their pictures taken in front of.”

Keeping the exterior in historical perspective, the inside will be totally new. That includes placing the living quarters on the second floor, along with classrooms and training space.

While moving the living quarters from the first to the second flood will provide room on the first for storage, there will be no pole or slide for the firefighters to get downstairs to the trucks more quickly.

It would have taken up too much room and cost too much, Kaufmann explained, adding that it would have been fun though.

Still, the new Central Station will allow for previously unavailable flexibility.

“This will probably never happen again in our lifetimes,” Kaufmann said. “So we really wanted to come up with a plan that will last.”

That also was the idea back in 1952 when the St. Tammany Parish Police Jury and the City of Slidell approved creation of the district followed by an affirmative vote by the public.

As so often unfortunately happens, disaster was the catalyst.

A fire at Slidell Elementary School (later Brock Elementary) which required an almost-total rebuild brought into focus the need for better fire protection.

Until then, Slidell had been served since 1923 by a volunteer department headquartered at the Pravata brothers’ Triangle Service Station, located at Front and First streets. With a mechanic shop, barber shop, sandwich shop and wrecker service, the Triangle was a one-stop service center before the term had been invented.

Pete, Carol, Joe and Frank Pravata and the young men of the staff at their 24-hour complex provided manpower, maintenance and vehicle rescue. That included medical transport to New Orleans by motorcycle and sidecar; which, before the construction of bridges across Lake Pontchartrain a few years later, could take 2-3 hours, depending on the availability of ferries.

Pete Pravata liked to refer to the Triangle as Slidell’s “Civil Defense Post.”

The Pravatas were prominent business and civic leaders in Slidell, particularly Pete, who would serve on various boards, donate land (including land in Carolyn Park for the substation which bears his name), other buildings, and contribute financially to any worthy group until his death in 1983.

Circa 1952: The original city jail which became City Hall, now the Slidell Museum, was used to store the American La France fire engine while waiting for the “new” fire station to be built. You can still see the large archway created for the truck’s exit.

But the fire department was Pete’s first love. It stemmed from when he was 12 and the family business, Joe Pravata’s Fruit Stand, located near the old Slidell rail depot, burned.

Said Poppler, “Mr. Pete probably had ‘FD’ tattooed on his chest.”

Indeed, he might have.

Writing about those early days, Pravata related, “A fire was the biggest excitement of the times. Surely everybody got excited and helped.”

Just as “exciting,” was the siren alerting the volunteers, which was located on top of the nearby water tower and triggered by a buzzer on the exterior wall of B.T. Carroll Plumbing, located across the street from the Triangle.

Old-timers will swear their ears are still ringing from the blasts which told the men which part of town the fire was in depending on the number of blasts. Two for the north end of town, three for midtown and four for the south end. After that, you just looked for the smoke.

In the early years, the firefighters got their water from hand-pumped wells and called themselves “The Triangle Bucket Brigade.”

Carol Pravata was the first chief and brother Joe was his assistant.

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In 1926, a brand-new American LaFrance pumper was purchased, ending the need for the bucket brigade. The pumper was housed in what was then City Hall, now the Slidell Museum on Second Street. The archway created for it to exit the garage is still visible.

Under the leadership of the Pravatas plus B.T. Carroll, who served as chief of the volunteers from 1937-52, the department operated with relative efficiency. But the school fire, which could have been contained with a more prompt and effective response, demonstrated the need for change.

Naturally enough, Pete Pravata was a leading proponent for the creation of the district. He would serve on the Board of Commissioners from its inception through 1974, although, oddly enough, never as the president.

Pravata also purchased a used Dodge 1 ½ ton chassis (for $400) and equipped it with an 800-gallon water tank. At first used primarily for grass fires, the tank truck provided reliable for years.

The new district also purchased a main ladder truck, a 1952 American LaFance “Invader” for $15,600.

The original Central Station itself cost $42,000. The new one is budgeted for $3 million, slightly more than the $2.85

million needed for the new district headquarters and station which opened on Robert Blvd. in 2019. Another station, the district’s ninth, will be constructed in the Allen Road area near Kingspoint once the current project is finished.

A new Central Station was first put into the capital budget three years ago, and it probably would have been done far earlier except for the rebuild required after Katrina.

As it is, Kaufmann says, revisions to the plans plus COVID issues have things a year behind schedule.

But shortly enough, the 5-8 firefighters per shift who are stationed at the old building will move, along with the rolling stock, to the former CrossFit workout center on Possum Hollow Rd., a few blocks away.

The stay there is scheduled for 14 months.

To EMS Captain Chris Frazier, there’s a good side to that.

“We’re actually going to be a little closer to I-10, and that’s where a lot of our rescue calls come from,” he said. “And there’s no doubt we needed to expand what we have now.”

Regular and volunteer firemen receive their new uniforms. Date unknown.

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“I’ve been in the department for 14 years, and it seems like we were always playing catchup with the renovations to the point where we couldn’t do it anymore. The old place is iconic, but the new one’s going to be nice.”

Besides, it’s not the brick and mortar that makes a building special. It’s the people who occupy it.

Hundreds of men, and a handful of women, have worked out of Central Station. And while Poppler can count several close friends among those who were in the department during his 32 years there, he holds that, “Everybody needs to be your best buddy because you are so dependent on each other. Some jobs you can function solo, but not being a firefighter.”

In the beginning, Chief Joe Decker and Gayle Van Gilder, who succeeded him as chief in 1957, were the only full-time employees to go along with five companies of volunteers.

Poppler was hired during Van Gilder’s tenure.

“He’d been in the Navy and was definitely old school,” Poppler said. “His philosophy about firefighting was ‘Put the wet (water) on the red (fire).’ To him, it was simple as that.”

A decade after the creation of the district, there were still only four full-time firefighters as opposed to the 24 volunteers. It would take until 1976 for the paid force to outnumber the others.

But lest one have the impression that the volunteers were not totally serious about being part-time firefighters, Crawford echoes the feelings of Poppler, especially since many of the early ones were from the “Greatest Generation” of World War II veterans, or, like Crawford, now 90, Korean War vets.

“If we didn’t do it, it wouldn’t have gotten done,” he said. “To me, it was like doing your civic duty. The only reason I didn’t go into it full-time was because it didn’t pay enough.” In 1968, the base pay was $400/month with a $16.66 monthly state supplement.

Ironically, Crawford would start a fire extinguisher service and supply business in the late 1960s which his grandson, Scott, runs today.

Horace “Red” Davis and Marvin “Doc” Cochran who, during the 1970s, would work 12-hour shifts as dispatchers.

Also, there was the legendary Pat Murphy, whose volunteer days preceded the creation of District 1 and lasted until his death in 1993.

After his active firefighting days were over, Murphy would monitor a scanner in his home and, when a call went out, he would go to the appropriate station to man the phones so that an extra man could go along on the call. The substation on Marina Drive is named for Murphy.

“Pat was the best pool shooter of the bunch,” Crawford said. “But he handled the stick better than he did the truck.”

There were notable fires, too.

The Leto Packing Box Factory and the Slidell High gym and cafeteria fires, both in 1975, were arson cases which were never solved, much to Poppler’s chagrin.

The volunteers met each Thursday night for training sessions.

Beyond being on call, they’d fill in during vacations for the full-time employees and frequently spend their own vacations attending firefighting school at LSU. “We’d take the trucks out and run the pumps to make sure everybody was familiar with every job. Now, I do have to tell you though that when our alarms rang (a phone alert system was developed in the 1960s), it was a footrace to the station because whoever got there first got to drive the truck.”

To be sure, it wasn’t all work and no play.

Volunteer Simon Manegra, who was vice-president of Dixie Beer, donated a pool table which was the centerpiece of the Central Station dayroom until it was converted into a communications center in the 1980s. The pool table was donated to the Boys Club.

Not all of the volunteers worked on the trucks.

There was the colorful trio of Jack “Pappy Jack” McClellan,

Pete Pravata presents the deed to the lot in Carolyn Park subdivision for the creation of a new firehouse, the first station west of the railroad tracks. l-r: E.B. Oulliber, board vice-chairman; A.J. Champagne, secretary; Sam Zerkowsky, chairman; Pravata, and Gus Fritchie Sr., board attorney.

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Left: Renovations to the original Central Station included adding a second floor in 1989. Right: As it appeared after the renovations and still today.

At $4 million, the CrossGates Athletic Club fire in 1996 is the most expensive. The White Kitchen fires, one on Highway 90 and the other on Front Street, along with the St. Christopher’s Curve-Inn fire of 1987, hurt the feelings of those who remember many good meals there.

There were also multiple-car accidents on fogbound I-10 which the department assisted with its EMS units.

While the volunteers were invaluable at the start and continued to be a vital part of the department into the 1990s, the increased professionalism of a unionized department whose jobs fell under civil service and an increasing inability to find replacements, especially when volunteers became full-timers, prompted Poppler to phase them out. However, there were volunteers until 2014, when David Kuhn stepped down after more than 40 years of answering the call.

“It just wasn’t cost effective anymore,” said Wade Landeche, Poppler’s deputy chief during much of his term. “The department had gotten bigger and we had a lot more career guys. I started out as a volunteer in Lacombe when I was 15, so I know how much it meant to the guys. But it was considered progress then just like this new building is considered progress now.”

Poppler’s time in the department paralleled a dramatic growth in Slidell. The first two auxiliary stations were constructed in 1966 and 1968, even though Poppler’s hiring only brought the number of full-timers to eight plus 24 volunteers.

During the Poppler years, the department’s boundaries were expanded from Slidell and its immediate environs to Lake Pontchartrain (and the westbound portion of the Twin Spans), to the Mississippi border, to just past St. Joe Brick on Highway 11, to near Lacombe.

The period also saw the department add its EMS division which handles first-responder emergency duties except for transportation, establish cross-training with the Slidell Police Department and National Guard at Camp Villere, become responsible for all fire and rescue-related responses in the parish, and even add a marine division to the rescue squad.

The department went from 24 full-time personnel when Poppler became chief, to 107 when he retired. It now numbers 187.

“It was a true blessing to be here during a time when the department underwent so many changes,” Poppler said. “But we all owe so much to the citizens who saw the needs of their community to have a first-class fire department.”

“You look at some of the names of volunteers, and they’re from families with deep roots in Slidell. But they just saw themselves as citizens doing their duty. They gave us a firm foundation that continues today.”

And while the old Central Station is going to be demolished, it won’t disappear entirely.

Chief Kaufmann has made sure that some of the bricks which made up the original structure are preserved to be part of the new one and that others will be reserved for retired employees who might want one.

Former President of the Slidell Volunteer Fire Dept., Curtis Crawford, and former Chief, Ed Poppler, today.

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Count Poppler in that number. “I’d like to have a few,” he said.

“That building was a part of me for 31 years. It’ll be nice to know that I’ll always have a piece of it.”

Photos courtesy of Ed Poppler, Wade Landeche and Slidell Museum.

Heart Disease L&L Article 011921 Slidell Mag.pdf

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1/19/21

12:30 PM

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Health & Wellness 02.2021 Heart Disease Heart disease is the leading cause of death for both men and women. The term “heart disease” refers to several conditions that can affect your heart, many of which are associated with a process called atherosclerosis. When a substance called plaque builds up in the walls of the arteries, atherosclerosis develops. The arteries are narrowed due to the buildup, making it harder for a blood clot to form, increasing the risk of a heart attack or stroke. Other types of heart disease may involve the valves in the heart, or heart failure due to the heart not pumping well.

High blood pressure, high cholesterol and smoking are the three key risk factors for heart disease and almost half of all Americans experience at least one of these risk factors. Having diabetes, not getting enough exercise and eating an unhealthy diet can also increase your risk for having heart disease. Some risk factors cannot be controlled, such as age or family history. Steps can be taken, however, to lower your risk by changing the factors you can control. Ask your doctor about ways to prevent or treat these medical conditions that can lead to heart disease.

Several steps can be taken to reduce your risk of heart disease and keep yourself heart-healthy: • Don’t smoke

• Maintain a healthy weight

• Eat a healthy diet and exercise regularly

• Prevent or treat other health conditions, especially high blood pressure, high cholesterol and diabetes

• Think calmly, rationally and seek help; do not let minor things stress you out • If you find yourself depressed, tell somebody and get help • Don’t ignore symptoms that may indicate a heart attack

Symptoms will vary depending on the type of heart disease. Chest discomfort or a heart attack is the first Lifestyle changes, like the ones just listed, can help lower sign for many people. Someone having a heart attack the risk of complications if you have heart disease.

Sometimes, lifestyle changes alone may not be enough, may experience several symptoms, including: your doctor may prescribe medication to treat the • Chest pain or discomfort that last longer than a disease. Medical procedures or surgery are also options. few minutes The staff at the SMH Heart Center focuses and specializes on the procedural care dedicated to heart • Shortness of breath patients. Cardiology specialists also offer comprehensive • Pain or discomfort in the arms, shoulder, jaw, care for heart disease in early detection and medical and surgical treatment, including stent placement and neck or back open-heart surgery when needed. Talk to your doctor • Nausea (feeling sick to your stomach) about having regular medical checkups and the best • Feeling light-headed or weak ways to reduce your risk of heart disease.

Several tests can be performed by your doctor to diagnose heart disease, including coronary angiograms, electrocardiograms (EKG or ECG), chest X-rays and exercise stress tests. Ask your doctor about what tests may be right for you.

If you or a loved one is experiencing symptoms of a heart attack, call 911. For more information on the cardiology services offered through the SMH Heart Center and Ochsner, please visit SlidellMemorial.org.

27

4-Sight

by Scarlett Maness

It was 1967... and I was about to turn 5. My kindergarten teacher, Miss Puda, noticed that I was distracted when she was talking in front of the classroom, but that I was extremely focused when doing desk work. I was slow to learn anything that didn’t happen right in front of me.

She suggested to my mother that I might need an eye exam.

My mother scheduled an optometry visit.

On a beautiful April day, my mother and I climbed into our ’63 Chevy Impala and headed for the optometrist’s office. On the drive, my mother explained to me what the exam would be like. She expressed that I had nothing to fear. She told me that the doctor would shine light in my eyes and explained the alphabet wall chart. It sounded like fun and games to me, like some of the activities in Highlights magazine. I was excited every month to get my copy of Highlights and would spend hours on my belly on the floor, my nose practically touching the pages, looking through the magazine.

The optometry office was in a small building with a parking lot that had a shallow canal running its length. My mother carefully backed into a parking space. We entered the building.

Instantly, I was smitten with the office and the racks of frames that lined the walls. Lighting and mirrors made everything seem so glamorous. Also, in the waiting room, on the corner table, was the latest issue of Highlights magazine. WOW! I was already familiar with something in the office. I felt important!

Whatever this “exam” thing was, I was going to ace it!

The optometrist was a kind man who took his time explaining the exam. He sat me on a booster seat in the tall exam chair and placed the large phoropter in front of my eyes. The equipment was heavy on my face and I felt mildly claustrophobic. My mother was seated behind me and kept reassuring me that it was painless and the doctor would help me see better.

The doctor asked me to look through the lens at the chart on the wall and identify the pictures in the white box. The chart was designed for preschool children and used images of simple objects instead of the alphabet. I knew my alphabet, but the doctor didn’t know this. To appease him, I concentrated hard and tried to see the images. I told the doctor that I didn’t see a white box. He said, “There, honey. On the wall.” I told him I didn’t see a wall. I thought that maybe the doctor couldn’t see because the room was so dark. The doctor checked the equipment and made sure the lenses were open. They were.

At this point, my mother felt defeated. The doctor completed the exam then explained to my mother that I had very poor vision and sensitivity to light. I would need eye drops, eye exercises and strong prescription glasses. No good news. The “outlook” wasn’t brilliant. The mood was heavy. My mother tried to put on a brave face as we left the exam room to select a frame. Since I couldn’t see the selections in the mirror very well and I was so young, my mother selected a frame. We left the office with prescriptions and instructions.

28

My mother, usually a rock, was visibly upset. We climbed into the Chevy. She put the car in reverse and a second later, we were in the canal, thrown back in our seats, with the front of the car facing the sky. We were both stunned. I believe Mom said a word I didn’t know the meaning of, and wasn’t allowed to say. With difficulty, she opened her door and we both stumbled out of the car into the thick muck of the canal. The mud was past our ankles and formed a strong suction around our shoes, making it difficult to climb the canal wall and keep our balance.

After a few slips, we were able to reach the parking lot. We had muddy hands and thickly mud-crusted feet. We stamped our feet on the cement parking lot to loosen the largest part of the muck from our shoes. I remember thinking this was fun and couldn’t understand Mom’s sour mood. We removed our shoes and socks and left them outside the doctor’s office.

Entering the office, Mom asked the receptionist if we could use the phone. She looked at us with wonder, as we were both sweaty, barefoot and muddy, and had just left the office moments before. Mom gave the receptionist a shaky, brief description of what happened then called my father at work to tell him of our dilemma. Tearfully, she told him, “The eye doctor told me Scarlett is nearly blind and now the car is in the canal!” My father, obviously shocked, replied, “YOU LET THE CHILD DRIVE?!!!!” My poor mom.

This was definitely not the compassionate response she was seeking.

That day is etched in my mind. I didn’t need 20/20 vision or a lifetime of experience to understand the gravity of the day. I remember my eye exam, watching a tow truck extract the Chevy from the canal, and my first taxi ride. And I remember seeing my mother cry for the first time.

Lessons learned on that day: Hindsight is 20/20 – except in reverse, when you park backwards and a canal is behind you.

Don’t think and drive.

If you take your Chevy to the levee, make sure the levee is dry.

A couple of weeks later, we returned to the doctor’s office to pick up my glasses, pop-bottle-thick beauties with cat-eye frames. I remember seeing myself clearly in the mirror for the first time. I remember thinking that, in those rhinestone-embellished, cat-eye glasses, I looked like a tiny, blonde version of my grandmother.

That day, the ride home from the doctor’s office was a thrilling adventure. I rode in the back seat of

the Chevy with my head out the window. I saw the golden arches of McDonald’s for the first time. My mother told me they had “always” been there. I was sure she was lying. I saw blades of grass instead of a flat blanket of green. I saw clouds and chain link fences and house numbers and road signs. I saw people wearing plaids and stripes and polka dots.

I saw traffic signals and neon lights. I saw ads in windows. I was in awe! My mother was moved by my excitement. “LOOK AT THAT! LOOK AT THAT!” It never occurred to me, as a 4-year-old, that my mother had always been able to see what I was just now discovering. I felt brilliant! And I looked like a shrunken, old sage.

My parents spent a significant amount of time and money on my glasses over the years. I can’t count on both hands and both feet the number of times I lost my glasses. I’ve stepped on them, sat on them, and slept in them. Once, I jumped into Bayou Liberty with them still on my face and my friend, Kim, got a $10 reward from my dad for diving in and recovering them. More than once a tetherball or volleyball game left me with starburst lenses. I’ve sported safety pins, paper clips, Band-aids and duct tape to keep my vision intact. I’ve worn an elastic strap to secure them to my head so I could play sports.

I’ve worn every style of glasses you can imagine from the 60’s to the present: the Lauren Bacall cateyes, the John Lennon tiny-rounds, the Janis Joplin huge-rounds, the Sophia Loren huge-squares, the absent-minded professors, the Malcolm X classic blacks, the Steve Urkel aviators, the many Elton John’s, invisible frames, transition lenses, every color metal and every color of the plastic rainbow. I’ve sported tortoise shell, leopard print and zebra stripes.

My latest style is the foggy lens look, compliments of mask wearing and a global pandemic. Photos of me can be dated by the styles of my frames.

I’m still smitten by the optometry office. And if I see a Highlights magazine in the waiting room, I’m always excited to read it. I have now worn glasses for nearly 55 years and every day has been a day of discovery.

So much to see! My vision has “progressed” to bifocals and, at 58, my glasses sit on top of my head as often as they sit on my nose. My glasses are part of me.

To this day, every time I see the golden arches of McDonald’s, I remember the first time I saw them and the memory makes me smile. When I die, I want my family to send me to the other side with a pair of my glasses. I don’t want to miss seeing the clouds and the huge arches of the pearly gates.

29

Environment " ns a e rl O w e N f Donna Bush, Winner of 2020 Press Club o

al Science Reporting"

Adventures in

BRAZIL Capuchin Monkey

Since 2020 has pretty much been a no-travel year, I thought you might enjoy hearing about one of my trips to Brazil and seeing some photos of the exotic wildlife that can be found there. Most people are aware of jaguar and amazing bird photography in the Pantanal and you probably read about those in previous editions. I would like to share a different side of Brazilian wildlife that you may not be familiar with.

Let me introduce you to the giant anteater. Without a doubt, this is the most unusual animal I’ve ever seen or photographed. At first glance, it is hard to tell if you are seeing the front end or the tail end of the anteater! And yes! They are giant as the name implies.

The largest of four anteater species, the giant anteater reaches 6-8 feet in length including both nose and tail; weighs between 60-100 pounds, with a distinctive long snout housing a tongue two feet in length and no teeth.

30

Story and photos by Donna Bush

Their tongue is coated in sticky saliva, making it the perfect implement to slurp up ants and termites much like a vacuum cleaner. Shades of brown uniquely pattern their body, along with black stripes on their white front legs and a dark bushy tail that reminds me of a horse’s mane.

Except for mating and raising young, they are complete loners. Conservationists at heart, they are careful to do no harm to the insect nests that feed them, providing them food for another day. Though their sight and hearing are not the best, they sport a very keen sense of smell, helping them locate their next meal. They use their strong forelimbs and claws to open the nest, then their tongue that can flick in and out up to 150 times per minute vacuums in dinner. To protect their front claws, they tuck them into their palms and walk on their knuckles in a clumsy shuffle. However, if necessary, they can run over 30 mph hour, as well as climb and swim.

Giant Anteater

In the Pantanal, giant anteaters are most active at night.

After a full day of photography, we loaded up for a night drive, hoping to see one. Although we saw lots of interesting nocturnal wildlife, we didn’t see an anteater this particular night. Imagine our delight when, after our return to our lodging, we encountered one on the pathway as we walked back to our rooms!

On the last day of our trip, after already packing our gear in the van, we received word that one of the guides spotted a giant anteater nearby! WOW! An opportunity to photograph one in daylight! We grabbed our cameras and headed towards the spot. Not only were we able to see and capture images in daylight, but our subject also turned out to be a female carrying a baby on her back! Females give birth to one offspring, which looks just like an adult, only smaller, and will ride on mom’s back from 2-3 weeks of age until it is a year old.

As I mentioned earlier, we saw interesting nocturnal wildlife during our night drive. The highlight for me was the ocelot, a smallish wild cat, about twice the size of a housecat.

Adorned with beautiful intricate dark markings on a tan, orange and white coat, each ocelot’s pattern is unique. With

long tails and flexible bodies, they reach 29 to 39 inches in height and weight from 14.5 to 34 pounds. Unlike our giant anteater, ocelots have amazing vision and hearing. Their eyes have a special layer that collect light, allowing them to walk in the dark as easily as we do during daylight. With a preference for smaller prey, meals are often rodents, fish, birds, frogs, or snakes; most of which are captured on the ground, with an occasional bird in a tree. Once found in Louisiana, their population in the U.S. has dwindled, with only a small number found in southernmost Texas and southern Arizona.

Luckily, like our giant anteater, we were able to observe one ocelot during daylight. He was strikingly handsome as he gracefully and quickly negotiated the underbrush and rocky terrain like he was on a mission.

Anteaters are not the only “giant” animal in Brazil. Meet the giant river otter, up to six feet long and weighing up to 75 pounds, almost as long as a jaguar but smaller size.

Often known as the “river wolf,” they are actually the world’s largest river otter and largest member of the weasel family.

Their streamlined bodies, long powerful tails and webbed feet equip them perfectly for their aquatic lifestyle. Their dark

Giant River Otter 31

Black-Tailed Marmosets

Howler Monkey

brown coat of short, dense fur is water-repellent, and they are capable of closing their noses and ears while swimming.

The creamy white markings on their chest are believed to be unique to each individual. Their long whiskers are able to detect vibration underwater, aiding them in locating prey, which consists mostly of fish and crustaceans, with an occasional snake or small caiman thrown in. With a huge appetite, an otter consumes 6-9 pounds of food per day.

Otters are very social and typically reside in large family groups, known as a raft, romp or bevy and consists of a single monogamous pair with offspring from multiple breeding seasons. The “teenagers” don’t breed but assist with feeding, grooming and babysitting. A mature adult otter gives birth to one to five cubs. The young learn to swim at approximately two months, are weaned at six months but rely on adults for food until 18 months old.

Although the group, which may be as large as 15-20 otters, will hunt together, they do not share their meal with each other. Once prey is caught, the otter retires to a “picnic area” to dine.

Home is a den created by burrowing into riverbanks or under fallen logs, often with multiple tunnels and entrances/ exits. Studies have shown that giant river otters utter 19-22 unique vocalizations, from begging for food to alarm calling. In fact, they were quite entertaining singing and playing together.

32

The Pantanal is inhabited by a few species of primates. We most frequently were greeted by capuchin monkeys, howler monkeys and black-tailed marmosets.

The marmosets were the smallest, weighing 10-14 ounces, 6 to 10 inches long, with a tail longer than their body. They have tan and brown fur, a black tail, bare ears and nose with a splash of pink skin around their nose and mouth.

Like most primates, they are extremely social and reside in groups of about six, consisting of a mated pair and their offspring. They are highly communicative, utilizing both vocal and visual means of communication. Interestingly, they tend not to interrupt each other when communicating vocally. Primarily, they eat tree sap with an occasional insect, fruit or bird’s egg included.

The brown capuchin monkey, weighing three to nine pounds, is considered one of the smartest monkeys.

Although their coloring can vary, most commonly they have a cream or light tan colored fur around their face, neck and shoulders, with darker brown on the rest of their bodies.

Why are they considered so smart? Per Wild Brazil, “They have been recorded using more tools than almost any animal, apart from chimps and humans! They collect and modify sticks to get food out of cracks and crevices; they use rocks as hammers and anvils to crack open seeds; and they use different shaped stones to dig for roots in the hard soil. They use rocks to throw at predators or even to attract the attention of a mate!”

Ocelot

Howler monkeys are the largest of the primates we photographed, at 22-36 inches in height when standing up, weighting 8-22 pounds, with tails almost equal in length to their bodies. Their names

are derived from the extremely loud vocalizations they emit that can be heard 2-3 miles away. Their overly large larynx and throat produce these loud calls that can definitely raise the hair on the back of your neck, especially when they howl right at dusk, as I can attest! They live in groups of 4 -19, with each having their own feeding territory that can range from 3 - 25 acres. Living in the tops of trees, their tail acts as a fifth limb, helping them to maneuver from branch to branch, even holding their entire body weight while feeding on leaves or fruit. Their tree-top travels help to reseed forests in Brazil as they drop or knock seeds off the plants along their path.

Coati

Another nocturnal animal that we saw during daylight was the tapir, which looks like a wild hog with an anteater-like snout. However, they are more closely related to horses and rhinos. They look like a puzzle put together incorrectly; with rounded bodies, about the size of a donkey, short legs, a stubby tail, small eyes and ears, four toes on each front foot and three toes on each back foot. Similar to an elephant’s trunk, their flexible snout is actually their upper lip and nose, used to grab leaves and fruit from trees to eat.

If threatened, a tapir will submerge itself in a river and use its snout like a snorkel, which ours promptly did. Tapirs are considered living fossils, since they inhabited the earth during the Eocene period, surviving several waves of extinction.

We were fortunate that the mostly nocturnal crab-eating fox showed itself to us during daytime and nighttime. They look similar in shape and size to our foxes, mainly grayish brown, with red highlights on legs and face, and black-tipped tail and ears. Though they are good diggers, they prefer to use dens dug by other animals. As their name implies, their diet consists of crabs, fish, reptiles, rodents, birds, insects, eggs and fruit.

Tapir

The South American coati is perhaps the cutest of the wildlife we photographed. Kind of a cross between a hog, with its long, pig-like snout; a raccoon, with its lengthy ringed tail and masked face; a monkey, with its amazing tree-climbing agility; and an elephant, with a snout that can bend up to 60 degrees as it roots through the dirt and leaves, sniffing out fruit and insects. With a body about 18 – 27 inches long, not including their tail of about the same length, their color varies between gray, brown, blond or red.

Unlike the nocturnal raccoon, the coati actively searches for food during the day and sleeps at night in the treetops.

Coati is short for coatimundi. They express themselves with a chorus of chirping, grunting and snorting to communicate their different emotions. When startled, a coati will leap into a tree, emitting clicking and woofing noises to warn away the offender.

One day, as we made our way down the long, dusty, dirt road to reach the Porto Jofre boat launch, one of our guides told the driver to stop. Our two guides leapt over the side of the truck, kicked off their shoes, jumped a fence and waded

Crab-Eating Fox 33

Anaconda

into a marshy field, whereupon they wrestled and captured a fifteen-foot Anaconda, one of the largest snake species in the world! They are non-venomous boa constrictors, meaning that they kill their prey by wrapping their muscular body around and squeezing until their victim suffocates.

Their stretchy jaws allow them to swallow dinner whole.

After a large meal, they can go for weeks without eating.

Capybaras are the world’s largest rodent. Think our nutria on steroids with a hint of a tail. They can reach over four feet long, about twenty inches tall, and weigh from 60 to 174 pounds! They are very social, often found in groups of 10 - 20 members. Symbiotic relationships are formed with birds, offering the capybara a free grooming session as the birds hitch a ride and eat insects found in their fur. Staunch vegetarians, they dine on aquatic marsh plants and river grasses, which is convenient since they love water. Often

Caimans 34

Capybaras

seen standing in the river, they can dive, swim or sleep in the water. A favorite meal for jaguars and caiman, the capybara will jump into the river to avoid the jaguar, but move ashore to avoid caiman since they are capable of running up to 22 miles per hour on land. Like tapirs, they have four toes on each front foot and three on each back foot. With a unique vocal repertoire, the capybara can communicate with group members by purring, barking, cackling, whistling, squealing, whining, grunting and teeth-chattering.

I can’t end without mentioning the tremendous number of caimans we saw during our visit. A caiman is very similar to our American alligator but can reach twice the size. No, I don’t think I want to kayak with a caiman!

I hope you’ve enjoyed this look at some of the lesser-known wildlife found in the Brazilian Pantanal.

“Your Estate Matters”

By Ronda M. Gabb, NP, JD, RFC

WHO’S YOUR

In the last few months we have heard several stories of folks getting “punched in the gut” when they found out to whom their recently deceased loved one’s assets were to go. I know I have done articles in the past on intestacy (dying without a valid Last Will and Testament) but want to dig a little deeper and share some of these stories.

When someone dies “intestate,” the laws of the State of Louisiana will direct where your assets devolve.

The “heirs” via intestacy will always be the people who are your closest relatives by blood, adoption, and only the surviving spouse by marriage. The “heirs” will never be friends, partners, charities, or stepchildren. There can never be any specific bequests, such as a specific dollar amount or any other particular asset (like a car or a home).

Now let’s discuss who your “heirs” might be. If you are married and have no children, then all your assets that are “community property” (assets obtained during the marriage) will go to your surviving spouse. If you have children, then all your community

Legal-ease

Daddy?

property assets will go equally to your children, subject to a usufruct in favor of your spouse (which will terminate upon the earlier of your spouse’s death or remarriage). If your assets are “separate property” (assets acquired prior to marriage or during through gift or inheritance), the surviving spouse gets nothing (not even a usufruct) if you have children, siblings, parents, or nephews/nieces.

Taking the above further, maybe this article should really be called “Who’s your daddy’s OTHER children?,” because, yes…HALF-siblings are still just that, siblings! These days it is more common than ever that one (or both) of our parents have more children from other marriages/ relationships. (Don’t even get me started on what the “23andMe” and other DNA companies bring to the “intestacy” table!) While a “full-blood” sibling (shares the same mother and father) will inherit a greater share from the decedent, a “half-blood” sibling (shares only one parent) inherits too, just a lesser amount. So if you have no children (and separate property) then ALL of your siblings, full-blood

and half-blood (and then to their children if they are deceased), will be your intestate heirs, subject to the usufruct of any surviving parents. If you have no siblings (or nephews/ nieces), then full ownership vests in your parents; if none, then finally to your surviving spouse.

And one more intestacy “surprise”… if you have had (fathered or birthed) any children you have given up for adoption, they are unequivocally still your intestate heirs! This not only affects your assets (as the biological parent), but it can also affect your other children as this adopted child would be a legal “sibling” to them.

Adoption severs the inheritance from the adopted child TO you, not FROM you.

If any of this is not what you want, you have no choice but to get a Last Will and Testament in place ASAP, because I’ve said it before: “Intestacy is Incontestable”. Visit my website to read prior articles on these topics and many others (including how to write your own olographic will). Remember: “People Don’t Plan to Fail, They Simply Fail to Plan.”

See other articles and issues of interest!

Ronda M. Gabb is a Board Certified Estate Planning and Administration Specialist certified by the Louisiana Board of Legal Specialization. She is a member of the American Academy of Estate Planning Attorneys, National Academy of Elder Law Attorneys and the Governor’s Elder Law Task Force. Ronda grew up in New Orleans East and first moved to Slidell in 1988, and now resides in Clipper Estates.

40 Louis Prima Drive (off Hwy 190, behind Copeland’s) • Covington, Louisiana • (985) 892-0942 • RondaMGabb.com

35

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by: Jeff Perret, DVM | Veterinary Medical Center

BLENDER BREEDS I spent a little time in my younger days working at an animal shelter. Like many shelters, we had an abundance of dogs, most of which could be described as one of two breed types: Pit Bulls and their mixes, or Chihuahuas and their mixes. Also, like many shelters, we were always in need of money. We often joked that we should breed a Pit Bull and a Chihuahua together. The puppies would be the perfect companions: fierce enough to provide protection, and small enough to fit in a purse, a la Paris Hilton. We would call them Purse Pits, and they’d sell like hotcakes.

It used to be that if dogs weren’t recognized pure breeds, they were just mixed breeds.

They might have euphemistic names such as mutt or Heinz 57, but they weren’t “purebreds.”

These days however, anything goes. No longer is it a mongrel or a mutt, but rather it’s a “breed.” For instance, even though neither is recognized by the American Kennel Club, the Labradoodle (a cross between a Labrador retriever and a Standard Poodle) and the Goldendoodle (Golden retriever x Standard Poodle) are very popular, with puppies going for thousands of dollars each. In fact, Poodle mixes are quite common. There are Schnoodles (Schnauzer x Poodle) and Bernedoodles (Bernese Mountain Dog x Poodle), not to be confused with St. Berdoodles (Saint Bernard x Poodle). But there are other mixes as well.

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And it’s not just an American phenomenon. The U.K. boasts the Sprockador, which is what happens when your Springador (Springer Spaniel x Labrador retriever) has a tryst with a Cocker Spaniel. Who knew?

Don’t be surprised, however, when your dog’s medical file at the vet’s office calls him a Spaniel mix instead of a Sprockador – veterinarians like to know what a dog’s alleged primary mix is without having to work it out. It may have a bearing on certain treatments, such as keeping full-strength ivermectin away from Collies and other herding breeds. It’s faster and simpler for the veterinary staff, and safer for your pet, not a commentary on your dog’s heritage, or your creativity.

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The fun with all of this is the license it gives us all to be creative. Some folks use invented-but-fun-breednames to help get dogs adopted, to play pranks on unsuspecting strangers, or to shut down pretentious neighbors. Just use the personality of the dog and its general looks to make up any “breed” you want. In the market for a “New Mexican Spotted Raquetball Hound”? Yeah, we’ve got that. Maybe you’d prefer a Canardly? As in, “I canardly tell what the hell that thing is!” We have at least three of those! If you’re really lucky, your one-and-only “breed” will be a star!

Just meet Max, a rare Norwegian Mega-Dachshund.

Mega-Dachshunds were apparently used by Vikings to hunt seals due to their powerful legs and jaws.

Max was recently seen at a fundraiser for a wildlife rehabilitation center, dressed in the traditional garb of his ancestors. Who would dare tell Max’s owner that Norwegian Mega-Dachshunds aren’t a real thing?

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2132 Summertree Lane, Slidell LA 70460 $239,900

JACKIE MILLER BROKER/OWNER 504-250-0469 JACKIE.MILLER@C21IR.COM

CARLENE ALFONSO OWNER 985-643-4200 CARLENE.ALFONSO@C21IR.COM

C21IR.com | 985-643-4200 | 2160 GAUSE BLVD. SUITE 100 | SLIDELL, LOUISIANA 70461 EACH OFFICE IS INDEPENDENTLY OWNED AND OPERATED. 40