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Vol. 91 February 2018



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Editor’s Letter

Thank you Krewe of Slidellians for naming me 2018 Parade Grand Marshall! Parade Captain Mary Clement presented me with my honorary sash. AWESOME! I’m so excited to bring you the February 2018 edition of Slidell Magazine. Get ready to feast on literary and photographic excellence! My staff is great EVERY month but, lemme tell you, they went over the top for this edition. The magazine business is not unlike other jobs - sometimes, you do great work. And, sometimes, although your work wouldn’t be considered bad, it’s not award-worthy either. There are many editions when I thought that there was an outstanding story that would be the highlight of the issue. This edition, EVERY story is a highlight!

PO Box 4147 • Slidell, LA 70459

Kendra Maness

Editor/Publisher Slidell Magazine

You’ll love the dynamic graphics and delicious info-bytes in our newest storyline, This Month in History. Then, Leslie Gates continues to crack us up in Crimi-Mommly Insane. Also this month are two exceptional works of fiction that I am just tickled to bring you one by Rose Marie Sand, and the other by The Storyteller, John S. Case. I love fiction and I’m pretty sure that Slidell Magazine is unique to offer it. I’m humbled to work with such incredible talent month after month. They trust me to bring their artistic vision to print for our community. And it’s a risky endeavor. They put themselves out there in such a public way, for scrutiny and judgment, information and learning, appreciation and enjoyment. If you like what you see and enjoy what you read as much as I do, share a post on our Facebook page for my artists. It feels great to be appreciated! GREAT JOB GUYS!!


Kendra Maness, Editor/Publisher

Devin Reeson - Graphic Designer Illustrations by: Zac McGovern CONTRIBUTING WRITERS EFOP, Charlotte Lowry Collins The Storyteller, John Case Portraits of Slidell, William Blackwell Pet Points, Jeff Perret, DVM This Month in History, Dawn Rivera Go Beyond Valentines, Rose Marie Sand Four-legged Officers, Part II, Donna Bush Cajun Army, Part 4 of 12, Donna Bush Crimmi-Mommly Insane, Leslie Gates Focus on Faith, Rev. W.C. Paysse Legal-Ease, Ronda M. Gabb Making Cents of Your Money, Mike Rich

Cover artwork by Joel Geiger Photographed by Donna Bush

Cover Artist

There was soooo much research done by the writers for our stories Making Cents of Your Money, Portraits of Slidell and Pet Points. There’s an incredible adventure to be taken with Donna Bush (and good golly, there was tons of research too) as she rides along with the Slidell PD K9 division. Your faith in the human spirit will be restored when you read about our EFOP, and the great work that Louisianians are doing in our 12-part series about the 2017 natural disasters and recovery. And the photography by Donna Bush and William Blackwell is just, well, spectacular!


Mary West Director of Marketing 985-789-0687

joel geiger

Louis Joel Geiger was born in Metairie in 1982. His artwork and life are fascinating! Therefore, he’s not only this month’s Cover Artist, he is also our Extraordinary Fascinating Ordinary Person (EFOP) of the Month! He draws much of his inspiration from his appreciation for the world around him. “Joel” works with several mediums - sculpting, painting, mixed media assemblages, metal and wood working. He has produced work for large corporations and establishments, including The Intercontinental Hotel, Razzoo’s and C Spire, but loves working in his hometown of Slidell most of all. Joel spends his days manipulating metal, laughing with his family and friends and growing his beard. Joel’s wife and son promote and inspire his artwork and, on most days, can be found at his art gallery, IDeel Design, in Olde Towne, working alongside him. You can view more of Joel’s artwork on his website, or his facebook page, I.D.eel Design.


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Louis Joel Geiger

Extraordinarily Fascinating “Ordinary” People

by Charlotte Lowry Collins Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work. ~ Thomas A. Edison

A new year tends to illicit contemplation, reflecting on the past to see the big picture, and looking forward to new possibilities. I found myself remembering my past EFOPs after hearing Joel Geiger’s dreams for the new year. He, like others, has a vision that involves Olde Towne Slidell. He and his wife’s proposed project is one that I can’t wait to see come into fruition. So, what is it about Olde Towne that is so alluring? Long-term Slidellians and native Slidellians I have interviewed never fail to reminisce about our quaint Olde Towne. It was originally a three by four block railway hub, where everyone knew each other, shopping was local, everyone was willing to pitch in, and news was passed by word of mouth. Our existing business leaders, as well young, up and coming business owners feel passionate about the heart of our city. Sure, we have magnificent homes on the outskirts, and malls within driving distance. But the draw to Olde Towne stems from a sense of comradery, enthusiasm, and a shared vision for this nostalgic part of town. Where else do young people walk leisurely to businesses, parks, and stop to say hello to visitors? My husband and I love to spend a Saturday or Sunday just following where our feet take us. We are fortunate to have civic minded business leaders that share the opinion 6

that culture is vital to a city with heart and soul. It helps that we elect key officials who share this dream and understand the impact that a community’s environment can have. Our new marina project will begin in earnest this year, drawing patrons for those who have put in the effort to make Olde Towne a success. Joel Geiger and his wife, Christina, are two of those helping to make Olde Towne unique. Walking into IDeel Design, I immediately lost sense of time. The walls and floor were filled with art. There was a fish taller than me hanging from a giant hook in the ceiling in the middle of the room. A giant, metal art spider was climbing the wall. Then I spotted a gum ball machine made from scrap metal with a Santa hat on it. Joel watched me, and came over chuckling. “Watch this!” and he gently “walked” the four feet of the sculpture in front of him, as it wobbled across the floor. A sculpture of pliers, a wrench, a bunch of bolts, and a Peroni beer tap revealed itself as one very creative rifle. Joel laughed, “People often bring me stuff in cardboard boxes and leave them with a note, saying, ‘If you build something cool with this, let me know.'” Finally, I noticed the construction itself. Joel had painted murals on the doors and walls after he constructed them. The building was once storage for Mire’s Hardware,

an historic business that I remember well. Joel described the first time he stepped into this room. “It was dilapidated and termite damaged, but it just spoke to me instantly. It was quite gross actually, covered with animals, squirrels and raccoons. It was the shed part of Mire’s Hardware. ‘Jim Mire’ is scratched right here in the concrete with the date, March 10, 1955. I loved the location, and walked around until I found out who owned the building.” I asked what inspired him, and Christina and Joel spoke at once, “Paw Paw.” Joseph Locantro, aka “Paw Paw,” is a retired dentist, who at age 92, stills works with wood. He left his practice on Magazine Street and moved out to the country in Talisheek. Joel had always been fascinated with the tools of his grandfather. With them, Dr. Locantro

would spontaneously create furniture and handmade signs. Joel remembered one series in particular, “My grandfather is an Italian Catholic, and made bas-relief plaques from pieces of wood that spelled Jesus. The word itself doesn’t jump out at first, as the little pieces of wood around it are raised. You tend to look at the pieces surrounding the letters first. Everybody loved them, and he made a series of them to give away to his patients and friends." Joel recalled Paw Paw crafting a custom sword for him, modeled after his favorite childhood cartoon, the Gummy Bears. “It was perfectly crafted and even sharp. I loved to watch him work as a kid. His shop and tools were so inspiring, and watching him maneuver complex overcuts and bends was mesmerizing.” Now I looked back at the intricate guns and saw the connection. I asked if he knew then that he would be a professional artist. “Oh no, I just mostly painted and assembled things with found art and mixed media. I love exploring in scrap yards. You will see lots of car parts in my assemblages. But I made them for fun. I only started the plasma cut metal signs as a business seven years ago. I actually started off in the Coast Guard, when I was just seventeen. I asked my parents to emancipate me, as that was the only way to join when you are underage. That branch of the military sounded less violent, and I wanted to travel, not necessarily abroad, but around this region. I felt like this would allow me to be of service without the violence. I was tending buoys, moving them in and out of the river in Arkansas. It was interesting, but I needed something I couldn’t identify.”




He continued his journey, “I got out of the Coast Guard at 19, and needed a haircut. I walked into Attractions Salon, and Christina washed my hair. It was love at first sight,” Joel exclaimed as he hugged her. “We've been married thirteen years now, and looking back it amazes me how one event can change your life.” Joel also needed a job, and Christina’s boss, Brian Fontenot, hired him. Joel had cut hair for co-workers in the Coast Guard, but knew nothing about cutting women’s hair, coloring, or hairdos. He apprenticed with Brian, a former EFOP, and ended up teaching at the Paul Mitchell school here in Slidell for 4 years. Later, he went to work at another salon, “to work behind the chair again. I made enough to buy this really cool sailboat. Then I started sailing with Mark Palermo on the Sapphire at the Tammany Yacht Club Wednesday night races. There was a group of guys there that worked with metal art, and we clicked as artists. I really just picked it up as a hobby, and found the plasma cutting machinery fascinating.” Again, a happenstance opportunity changed Joel’s life. The parents of his new friends had the tools and it opened doors for Joel to see that he could professionally make signs using this plasma cutting technology. At first, the guys started showing their work at festivals. “We would get excited about the theme of the show, make a lot of work, and some of them started selling. That’s when I realized I could do more than chase the circus (focus on the theme of the show). I wanted my own gallery, one that would be like a toy chest, or trophy room. This allowed me to choose the direction of my art and the signs I wanted to produce. Plus, the packing and unpacking of my work, and setting it up for short stints was stressful. All of this is what brought me to look around for this place,” and he gestured around the walls with his arm.






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As soon as he found the right space, Joel poured his energy into his dream. He spent a year working on the space before moving in. Meanwhile, he was selling in the French Market in order to pay the rent. Eventually, he made enough money to justify doing this full time. Christina joined him, and is now the events coordinator and operations manager. Christina took a sabbatical from massage at Crossgates to provide in home care for her mother who had a stroke and cancer. After she passed, Christina began seeing massage clients again on her own. Joel explained that with their own business, “Our most precious commodity is our time. We couldn’t have taken care of her mom if we were working for someone else. We were able to make the end of her life better. Now I can also take time in the middle of the day to go to the park and play ball with my son. I have to be self dedicated and have time management skills, but I get to make my own schedule.” Joel and Christina have a ten year old son, Jarren Jett Geiger. Dad proudly described, “He can be found rollerblading and visiting with the other shop owners and he has plans to get a job at the Old Town Slidell Soda Shop when he becomes of age. Jarren is a star student in school, and sells art out of here in his spare time. We had an exhibit for his paintings, and he sold out. I was impressed! My hope is that I can pay it forward while providing a venue for creative growth.” "IDeel Design has been open five years as an exhibition gallery simply hosting local artists, but we are now moving a bit more in the direction of an artist co-op. In January, Solange Ledwith, the only glassblower on the Northshore, will be joining our team and offering classes." Currently, Joel has a jeweler and the works of several others artists, like the artist who created the giant fish that I mentioned previously. “I want this gallery to be a unique experience from the moment you walk in. I can’t do plasma cutting here, so I want other artists in here working when visitors come in. There should be something for everybody. We get the best responses when people first walk in. Kids, men and women love it, old and young. I also don’t want the gallery to only be about me. I had hoped to have a partner when we opened. Now that things are flowing, it has attracted other like-minded artists." Once they became part of Olde Towne, the couple met other young business owners like Brandee Santini with Green Oaks Apothecary, and Jeremy Reilly with Restaurant Cote’ and the Maple Room, where you can also find the walls covered in IDeel Design art. “With these and other business owners on Carey Street, we form the Carey Street Coalition to encourage patrons to shop Olde Towne. We realized we needed to help them lead the vision of Olde Towne. I did both of their signs, and soon people were reaching out to me for signs. My signs are not advertised. It is more word of mouth. I’m proud of the fact that my signs don’t look like those that other companies are producing.”



Christina joined the Main Street committee as a way to get more involved with Olde Towne restoration and revitalization. They have commissioned Joel to do historic street signage to help distinguish our Olde Towne area. Enthusiastically, he described, “It will be different than anything any other historic district in the US has done. I think it will bring another level to Olde Towne.” I share their belief that Olde Towne should be a really

amazing place. As Joel expressed, “There are dead zones, and they need to be connected somehow, so they aren’t isolated destinations. This area has an amazing community of residents and business leaders. We just think it is a really great place. We are hoping to buy a house here eventually, so I can say I build my stuff in my own back yard in Olde Towne. Right now we live off Brownswitch Road and in the backyard is a metal building. I jokingly call myself a 'backyard professional.' I’ve done a lot of pieces for the Intercontinental Hotel in NOLA, and I’ve found it is much better to meet them here at the gallery than in my little workshop. I realized I need the gallery space to meet with clients in a professional setting. When I was featured on 'News with a Twist,' they came to the house after seeing the gallery. I was nervous about a news crew coming to my little building in the back. Someday it will all be in Olde Towne,” he mused. "We believe in giving back as much as we can. We can’t donate money, but we can give time. I donate art for Habitat for Humanity auctions, and Christina does the Women Build project. That’s something that makes Slidell great. Our community truly gets involved. Northshore High will be working with us on a park in Olde Towne with bike racks, benches, street signs, and scrolls, all handmade and original. Maybe they will see the opportunity, and establish businesses of their own some day. We really need some key businesses that aren’t here yet. I see a need for a fresh juice and coffee shop in Olde Towne. The fact that we are one of only two galleries left is a shame. It needs to be more like Julia Street in New Orleans. We can become that, if people continue the trend to support local art in their own town." Then he jumped up and said, “I can’t wait to get back to work to fill these walls after the Christmas rush. My Paw Paw thinks this is amazing, but it's a little futuristic to him. I think I am a lot like him. For instance, feel this,” and Joel handed me a heavy chunk of shined metal. “I found this thing in a scrap yard, and don’t even know what it is. I just had to have it. I told you how much I like junk yards and scrap yards. I do pick things up, and have no shame about it. I see things I like, and realize they can be something. Like the legs of a fire pit. I saw them, got inspired by the shape, and knew it would be a gun stock. I spotted a gear, and saw a back tire. That gear ended up being the back tire of this angler fish motorcycle. Then I have to search for the other parts. The angler fish image is one I use often, and dates back to my Coast Guard days. They referred to me as “bad fish.” I created a stencil of an angler fish that I used to mark the buoys that I tended. It looked like one bad fish, so the nickname was created. I love the fact that they are able to lure fish to their mouth, and are totally self sufficient. They don’t have to venture out, just sit there with their light on their antennae, acting as a lure.” I thought the angler fish sounded a lot like Joel and his business venture, in that if you build it, they will come sort of way. Joel pointed out his very first painting in the gallery. “There was nothing on the walls, so I came in one night and created this giant angler fish mural. I thrived on the need to fill the walls.” Turning the corner, there was a wall devoted to paintings by Mike Embry, a Slidell native. Joel informed me that Dr. Bob, the famed New Orleans artist who uses many found objects in his designs, trained Mike as his apprentice. Dr. Bob actually used some of Joel’s templates/stencils of a gator. Of course,


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TOP l-r: Joel as a Coast Guard recruit; PawPaw with great-grandson, Jarren; the Geiger family; Joel, hard at work in Olde Towne BOTTOM l-r: The IDeel Design showroom in Olde Towne; Joel with commissioned artwork for the famous French Quarter club, Razzoo

Dr. Bob paints them in his own fashion. But Joel embraces sharing between artists. Joel’s latest project is not even in the gallery, but in his friend Terry Manning's home (and here, on the cover of this month's Slidell Magazine). It is a panoramic view of Lake Pontchartrain with metal sculptures attached to the wall to form a 3-D relief piece. The fourteen foot wide, twelve foot tall mural includes the Rigolets lighthouse and an array of aquatic creatures. “Terry and I talked about doing it for a long time, and finally he commissioned me. I worked on it over a month. Terry had already bought several of my pieces, and my son’s. I tend to work prolifically. Once I start, I have to knock it out.” Joel realized he forgot to mention that his gallery is located within the Slidell Cultural District with tax credits for the purchase of any original art. “I had to send a report of how much is original within my gallery. I started listing, and I love the fact that everything except the couches in here are handmade. On the ceiling is a steel cut out to hold track lighting. I used an image of the eye of Ra (the sun god of ancient


Egypt) which is about illumination, so it fit conceptually. I was actually surprised how much others noticed and like it.” Joel gets very excited when he talks about his next work. “My biggest piece will be so large it can’t be carried out. It will be a mural of a world map done in stainless steel and stained wood. Then I will burn the wood, and I’ve never done that. I will use the burner to draw latitudes, longitudes, names, and details. It should be a lot of fun. That will be Christina’s wall for her treatment room. I wanted to do this map, and needed to get it out of my head. Now the opportunity just presented itself. I need to build a wood wall and the proportions are right, so it will be really cool.” Looking to the future, Joel wants to be able to spend a whole year on one piece. “I want more one-of-a-kind pieces, and need time to accomplish that. I’m excited that new artists are coming in. I won’t have to be so focused on the financial side and can devote more time in being creative. I hope to eventually do less repetitive plasma cutting, and more of my found art. I am prepared for the fact that I will be doing a lot

of repetitive stuff for the Main Street project, so I hope to follow that with more of my personal goals. I would like to work with a big group of artists working collaboratively in a mixed media piece. By the time I’m in my 50’s, I would like to see myself having contracted projects, but not having to be as concerned about where the money is coming from." "We also want to do some traveling with experiences that inspire me, and bring what I learn back to the community. We want to own a sailboat again. We sold the really nice sail boat to buy the very expensive equipment I needed to start my business venture, and I hope it will enable me to turn those tides." "Opportunities usually present themselves for me. I’m motivated to make them happen in Olde Towne. I’ve learned you have to trust your instincts and go for it. Think about a moment in a day where, if you hadn’t done that one thing, it could have changed your whole life." Imagine our town if we all heeded Joel’s advice in 2018, and pitched in for our home town!

Life is about the ride, not the destination!

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1925 Possum Hollow Rd. in Slidell • One Block From Fremaux Town Center

The game of chess is strategic. You have to think 20 moves ahead — set goals to achieve long-term results. A player’s ability and experience is king in chess. Few have mastered achieving goals for his city, parish and state like Kevin Davis. Among his many accomplishments, as St. Tammany’s Parish President and Louisiana’s Director of Homeland Security, Kevin successfully led us through Katrina, kept the BP oil spill at bay, and secured millions of dollars to protect our way of life. Being Mayor of Slidell shouldn’t be left to the inexperienced. With 30-plus years of knowledge, experience and, most importantly, a vision, Kevin will make Slidell the place we never want to leave.

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P.O. Box 80 • Slidell, LA 70459 • 985.966.2112 • Kevin Davis Mayor Paid for by the Kevin Davis Campaign 11











Education Committee Chamber Boardroom 8:30am

Ambassador Meeting TBD • Noon


Dine & Discover Workshop Chamber Boardroom 11:30am-1pm


Ash Wednesday

Chef Sally Kids Cooking Class Rouses • 5pm



EYP Luncheon Location: TBD 11:30am-1pm

Northshore Harbor Center 11am - 1pm

Think Red Luncheon

Valentine's Day





Noon Lions Club Bingo Every Thursday • 2:30pm


Business After Hours Fidelity Homestead 5-7pm

Noon Lions Club Bingo Every Thursday • 2:30pm

Slidell Job Fair Every Thursday • LA Works • 8am


Business After Hours Chamber Martketplace 5 - 7pm

Slidell Job Fair Every Thursday • LA Works • 8am




Krewe of Titans • 6:30pm

Krewe de Paws Olde Towne Slidell 10am


Winter Olympics Begin!

Krewe of Sisters Mardi Gras Ball Harbor Center


Slidell Gun and Knife Show Harbor Center

Inner Wheel Walk John Slidell Park • 9am

Weiner Dog Racing Fairgrounds • 1pm

Run the 18, Party on the 19th Walk/Run/Party for Charity Royal Golf Club • 8am

Beauty & the Beast • Cutting Edge Theater • 8pm

z Carey Street Crawl Olde Towne Slidell • 5-10pm


Beauty & the Beast • Cutting Edge Theater • 8pm Employee Appreciation Day



SMH Lunch and Learn SMH Founders Building • 11:30am

Parish President Breakfast Pinewood Country Club • 8-10am


& Blue Jeans z zOurBeethoven Lady of Lourdes • 7:30PM

Beyond the Stars Dance Comp. Harbor Center

Yoga with Goats Old Rusty Gate Farm • 9am


Peter & the Starcatcher • Slidell Little Theatre • 8pm


Beyond the Stars Dance Comp. Harbor Center




Peter & the Starcatcher • Slidell Little Theatre • 8pm

Krewe of Selene 6:30pm






Reservations Required $35 per person

11am - 1pm • Northshore Harbor Center Reservations can be made by phone or website.

Wednesday, February 21, 2018

This event benefits the American Heart Association Heart Walk on May 5 at Fontainebleau State Park.

Heart Health Awareness Red Dress - Red Tie

Think Red Luncheon

Look for the RED Fleur de Lis to see all of the Chamber Events!

Beauty & the Beast Cutting Edge Theater • 2pm

Pursue Wellness Workshop Olde Towne Yoga & Bodywork Studios 2pm






Healthy Cooking with Chef Nino Northshore Family Medical Center 3-4:30pm


Beyond the Stars Dance Comp. Harbor Center



"The Storyteller" John S. Case • Free Greenwood Cemetery Tours Tuesdays - Thursdays • 12-1pm • By appointment only • 985-707-8727



Become a Notary Public! • Tuesdays • Feb 20 - May 29 Ronda M. Gabb & Associates 6:30-9pm • Registration is limited!




Peter & the Starcatcher Slidell Little Theatre • 2pm

Krewe of Dionysis 1pm

Krewe of Slidellians followed by Mystic Krewe of Perseus 1pm Peter & the Starcatcher Slidell Little Theatre • 2pm








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Storyteller THE SALVATION OF JENNY LYNN He came the summer I turned fourteen. I know that, because I was not old enough to drive. I lived eight miles south of Brookhaven and two miles north of the crossroads village of Bogue Chitto. Brookhaven was a small city and there were more things to do there, including watching girls, which had begun to interest me.

EDITOR'S NOTE: This month, I am extremely proud to present a reprint of "The Salvation of Jenny Lynn" by John S. Case. In my opinion, this is John's finest storytelling and contains some of his best writing. It was originally printed in Slidell Magazine in December 2012 and was met with great response. Our readership has grown tremendously since that time; therefore, many of John's most avid followers have yet to read what I feel is his greatest work. This story was also adapted into a short play and brought to stage by Director Grace Marshall in 2016. Truly good literature yearns to be enjoyed again and again. Grab a cup of coffee, sit back and let John tell you a story...

And these signs shall follow them that believe; In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.

Bogue Chitto did not offer much. It had a hamburger place with a pinball machine and Dude Morgan’s Pool Hall. That was about it. It did have a few girls also - especially one, which this story is somewhat about. But, as for having fun, Brookhaven was the location of choice. If you lived out of town and you could not drive, you were dependent on others. For transportation, we walked, hitchhiked, or we were at the mercy of a friend or relative

-Mark 16:17-18 KJV

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for a ride. We did all three, especially a lot of walking and hitchhiking. That particular summer, my friend, Buck Martin, and I were extremely restless. If we did not have a chore to do or when we finished our chores, we would do our best to go somewhere. We could walk to Bogue Chitto, and often did, but hitchhiking was faster and easier. Walking to Brookhaven was out of the question.

Cutting Edge Theater presents

Some days we would be hitchhiking south to Bogue Chitto and hear a car coming that was traveling north toward Brookhaven. We would just cross the road and hitchhike in that direction. It did not matter. We just had wanderlust and wanted to go somewhere. It was early August, hot and dry. Too hot to really enjoy walking anywhere so we were hitchhiking to Brookhaven. We heard a vehicle coming south and, since we had not been picked up by anyone going north, we crossed the road with the unspoken idea that Bogue Chitto was better than nothing. I was taken aback by the vehicle that topped the hill. It was a late model pickup, nothing unusual about that. What was unusual was that, built onto the cargo bed, was a miniature house. Years later, these would become common, as camping became a recreational pastime; but we had never seen anything like this back then; and it was homemade. It even had a chimney extending through the roof, which was actually a metal stovepipe. It was built of rough lumber and not the metal you see today.

Brunch with Belle and Dress Up 12:15pm on Sundays

There was a trailer attached, filled with a large tent, tent poles, stakes, Coleman lanterns, a pulpit like you see in a church, and two screen boxes similar to animal cages. Some blocks of wood and lumber were lashed to the sides of the trailer.

FEB 23-MAR 25 FRI & SAT • 8PM SUN • 2PM

The driver of the truck started slowing before we actually got our thumbs out. He pulled to the side of the road just past where we were standing. Before we could approach the passenger side to get in, he exited the vehicle. Looking back, I think he would have been considered handsome. He was a muscular, athletic-looking guy about thirty-five years old. At least six foot four inches tall, he struck an imposing figure. In spite of his physical appearance, he had a soft manner about him. As I would learn in the days to come, he probably was the byproduct of the coal mines of his youth and the Christian ministry of his adult life. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and I bet he had some Native American heritage. “Hello, Brothers,” he said as he approached. Buck said, “We ain’t brothers.” He replied, “Oh, yes you are. We are all brothers and sisters in the eyes of the Lord.” He then handed us a piece of paper that read: The Apostle Wayne Spence Traveling Revival Church with Signs Following Buck and I had both seen his type before. Itinerant ministers were nothing new to us. We guessed that he had no intention of giving us a ride. We assumed he just wanted to tell us about

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767 Robert Blvd. Slidell




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Jesus, and then leave us standing in the hot sun as he drove off. This time, however, we were wrong. “Brothers, do you know where I can put up my tent?” I told him he was welcome to put it up in our yard, as I was sure my dad would not care. In those days, it was not unusual for travelers to occasionally camp on the side of the road. It was a matter of financial necessity and not a means of recreation. Dad had never objected. “No, I need a place that can park fifty or sixty cars. You see, I am going to hold a tent revival meeting.” I knew that just down the road, there was some sixteenth-section land. It belonged to the school board and they did not care if you camped there. In fact, every June the Gypsies camped there en route to Meridian to visit the grave of the Gypsy queen. Late at night, after we had gone to bed, we could hear their haunting music. As children, we were kept close to home during the time they were there. It was rumored they stole children. Even with the fear of being stolen, we were attracted to the idea of their camping and roaming lifestyle. The spot where they camped was a perfect spot for them, and would (in my opinion) be a perfect spot for the Apostle Wayne. In the early part of the century, there was a gravel road that ran from Chicago to New Orleans. It was called the Jefferson Davis Highway. This old road had a concrete bridge that crossed Big Creek just north of Bogue Chitto. In the 1930s, a new highway was built that, for all practical purposes, followed the path of the Jefferson Davis Highway but was located about three hundred yards to the east. It is known today as U.S. Highway 51. When it was completed, for safety purposes and because they did not want to maintain it, the old concrete bridge was dynamited. The concrete boulders were left where they landed, some in the water and some on land. It looked much like the ruins of an earthquake. The old roadbed made for excellent parking and the creek provided water for drinking and washing clothes. I could imagine that it would be good for baptizing also. These bridge ruins could be seen clearly from the new bridge which was a couple of hundred yards away. The new bridge was elevated to avoid flooding and, from there, you had an excellent view of the old bridge and the campground. Brother Wayne, he insisted we call him that, asked us to show him where it was and we climbed in the cab of the truck. Just a few hundred yards down the road, we exited and traveled up the old roadbed. When we arrived, Brother Wayne told us it was just what the Lord would want and offered us a dollar each to help him put up his tent. The dollar wage was the first of many he would offer us over the next few days. In fact, for what he asked us to do, it was not a bad deal. Especially since we had nothing else to do.

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He explained that he would not start preaching for several days. He first had to advertise the meeting, and this was best done by letting the passersby on the new highway see the tent. They would get curious, stop, talk to him, and pass the word to others.

Our next job, again for a dollar each, was to catch a rattlesnake for him. He told us his snake had died in the heat on the way down from West Virginia. We told him there were no rattlesnakes in Lincoln County, so he told us to get him a copperhead. He said he did not want a cottonmouth. He did not explain and we did not ask. We told him we had experience in catching snakes because we regularly did that for the biology departments of several high schools. He again said, “You brothers were sent by the Lord.” The biology departments would give us glass containers filled with Formaldehyde. They would pay us extra if we could get a pregnant moccasin. Of course, we had no way to know if the snake was pregnant or not; but if it was fat, we would argue that it was probably pregnant and they would usually pay us accordingly. We would sometimes preserve a dozen or more snakes every summer in the Formaldehyde solution. After turning over several rotten logs in the nearby woods, we found a large, fat copperhead. We caught him and placed him in a burlap sack. Thinking Brother Wayne would be pleased, we were disappointed when he said the snake was too big. He explained that a fat snake ate often, thus using up its venom. He preferred a skinny copperhead that was most likely hungry and full of deadly poison. Besides, that was what the Lord would want him to use. We went back to the woods and, before long, we brought back a snake that he said was perfect. He named him “Satan’s Brother” and put him in one of the cages. He released the large snake and forbade us to kill him. He told us that all God’s creatures had a purpose.


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We had earned two dollars each in the employ of Brother Wayne, which was actually respectable for the time. Plus, we were enjoying what we were doing and enjoying him. We agreed to return the next day and assist him in posting flyers around the county on stop signs, business doors and utility poles. As Buck and I walked home that afternoon, we talked about the preacher. We both agreed he was a nice guy and there was something about him that we really liked. He was a nicer guy than the preacher at my church or the Baptist church that Buck attended. We looked forward to coming to help him the next day. Looking back, the next few days would probably have more influence on me than any other short period of time. After all these years, I still say I saw many things over that time that I can’t explain to this day. Those things have had a profound influence on my religious ideas and beliefs. The next day was a Thursday. We met Brother Wayne at nine o’clock in the morning. He had attached a sign to the side of his truck that read very similar to the paper he had shown us when we first met, but it referenced that there would be serpents. We were a little embarrassed to be riding in a truck with a religious sign on it, but we were already committed. Our first stop was at the hamburger shop in Bogue Chitto, less than a half mile away. Brother Wayne went inside to ask permission to post his flyers. We sorted out the hammer, tacks

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and tape needed to post them on windows and utility poles. While we were doing this, a car that we recognized drove up. It was a car that practically everyone in the county recognized. When it stopped, she exited. Her name was Jenny Lynn Boggin. Jenny Lynn was most likely the most beautiful woman in Lincoln County. I have never seen before, or since, a prettier one. She was about twenty-six years old. Jenny Lynn was naturally beautiful, with olive skin that looked as if she had a perfect suntan every month of the year. She had long, black hair and green eyes. Most of the time, she wore her hair down and, on more formal occasions, it flowed well below her shoulders. For less formal times, she wore it in a ponytail. That is the way it was today. She was dressed in a white blouse and light green shorts, both glistening with starch and freshness. She wore only a little lipstick, no other makeup. She did not need it. She had a very classy demeanor to top it all. Jenny Lynn did not belong in Bogue Chitto, or Brookhaven for that matter. In fact, I am not sure she even belonged in the state of Mississippi. I could easily have seen her on Broadway, or in Hollywood, starring in an award-winning movie.

Our next assignment was to acquire a guitar player and a drummer. He told us he would pay three dollars to each of them if they were good. That was my first lesson in learning that you make more money if you have a talent or a trade. We found him Boozer Hart for the guitar and Buck’s brother, Sammy Martin, for the drums.

“Is she married?” “No.” “Why not?” “I guess she just does not want to be.” “Does she have a boyfriend?” “Nope.” “Has she ever had a boyfriend?” “Yep.” “What happened to him?” “Got killed.” “Was she serious about him? “Engaged.” “How did he die?” “Car wreck, week before the wedding.” “What else do you know about her?” We were almost having fun withholding information. Buck answered, “She is pretty.”


He replied, “Sure is.”

She did go away once, when she went to college out of state. She then spent a summer in Europe and the entire community was surprised when she returned home. They were pleased, but surprised. Girls like Jenny Lynn just moved on.

He was quiet for a minute or two then I volunteered that, the year before she got engaged, she won a local beauty contest. Scored perfect in the bathing suit competition. My reason for telling him this was that if I let him know she paraded in front of men half naked in a bathing suit, she may not be worthy of a preacher’s attention.

She taught private art lessons and had students from several surrounding counties. Once she had a student art show at the public library. We did not think the art was very good but, since Jenny Lynn was going to be present, everyone we knew was there.

I also told him she had never been the same since the accident and seldom went anywhere and never dated anyone. I was hoping this would steer his interest away from her but, to my dismay, I could see that this pleased him. He repeated her name out loud several times.

Jenny Lynn entered the hamburger shop. Just moments later, Brother Wayne exited. When he came back to the truck, we noticed Brother Wayne did not have the same assured composure that he had held prior. Almost stuttering, he said we had permission to place the flyers but gave us no instructions on where to place them. We could tell he was distracted.

“Jenny Lynn Boggin. Jenny Lynn Boggin.”

As we left to go to another location, he asked us who she was. We knew without asking 18

who he meant. We told him Jenny Lynn’s name and we could see he was attracted to her. Even though she was much older than Buck and me, we were infatuated with her also. Subconsciously, we were jealous. To punish him for his interest, we did not offer any information that he did not ask for. He, however, asked one question after another.

The flyers we were posting indicated the tent services would be held on the next two Thursday through Saturday nights. Brother Wayne told us that you did not have service on Wednesdays or Sundays, as that would interfere with the regular services that were held in the community. He told us that preachers are a jealous type so you have to respect their Wednesday and Sunday services. If you did not compete, they would not complain.

Monday would be a day I would never forget. In fact, I remember it as if it were yesterday. I saw what I think was the first miracle that Brother Wayne performed. The area of the creek where the camp was located had been rechanneled to accommodate the new bridge thirty years before. The water did not flow well in this area and, over the years, Buck and I had fished it many times. We had never caught a fish. When we saw Brother Wayne, he was sitting by the water, praying. He asked us to go home and bring three fishing poles, some worms for bait, and a can of whole kernel corn. We tried to tell him there were no fish, but he insisted we had no faith. We got the items he requested, if for no other reason than to prove him wrong. We all put worms on our hooks and began to fish. After about an hour, Buck and I began to smirk at each other. Brother Wayne may know about the Lord but we knew about fishing on Big Creek. He gave us a disapproving glance and opened the can of corn. He then threw it in the water as he said a prayer. If I had not seen it, I would not have believed it. The moment his hook hit the water, he caught a blue gill. We had never caught one that big anywhere on the creek. Within ten minutes, he had caught six. We had caught none. He told us we had caught enough for lunch and we should stop. There was no reason to waste the Lord’s bounty. Finally, Thursday arrived and we spent most of the day setting up chairs, assembling benches, hanging Coleman lanterns, and cutting small bushes so people would not trip and fall in the shadows. Service was to start at 7pm. We could hardly wait. Again, we were paid a dollar each but, to be truthful, we did not care about the money at this point. We had bought into Brother Wayne and his Signs Following Church. The crowd started arriving about six o’clock.

By seven, all the seats were taken and there was standing room only. The drummer started a slow roll and the guitar strummed chords of a song I had never heard before. We had not seen Brother Wayne in the last couple of hours. He had gone into the little cabin on his truck to meditate and dress. Then, out of the darkness, he came. He had worked his way through the woods and approached from a totally unexpected direction. He was dressed in a solid white suit including white shoes. He had a string tie with a large turquoise clasp. The drummer got louder and the guitar joined in as Brother Wayne started to sing. Again, it was a song we did not sing in our church but obviously some of the crowd knew it, as they began to sing with him. Half the crowd was standing. Some were turning in circles as they danced. Others were waving their hands above their heads. Then, as if you had turned off a switch, it got quiet. Brother Wayne, in the clearest, most authoritative voice, one that shocked Buck and me, said, “And if they drink any deadly thing, it will not hurt them. That is the sign of a believer. Are you a believer?” The crowd responded with a loud, “YES WE BELIEVE.” He answered, “I AM A BELIEVER.” He then reached behind the pulpit and retrieved a quart bottle of Clorox. He removed the cap and started gulping down the liquid. Then he set the bottle on the pulpit so all could see. I would look at the bottle and then look at him to see if he was going to collapse. He did not. He preached.

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The crowd screamed, and he preached some more. Every now and then, he would take a swallow of the Clorox. Some people (mostly women) were fainting, other women were trying to revive them by passing smelling salts beneath their noses. It was household ammonia, I could smell it. Finally, Brother Wayne finished the Clorox and pitched the bottle into the woods behind the pulpit. I had to know. I made my way to where the bottle had landed and removed the cap. It smelled like Clorox, but I was not sure. I poured the few remaining drops on the hem of my blue jeans. When the service was over, we helped Brother Wayne clean up. As I took one of the Coleman lanterns down, I let its light shine on my blue jeans. The hem was white. Brother Wayne was real. I had seen another miracle. The next day he asked us to rearrange the seating as he anticipated a larger crowd. We were to fashion some crude benches out of the blocks of wood and lumber that were lashed to the trailer. He told me to go inside his truck house and get a hammer and some nails. The inside of his mobile house was tiny. Everything was neatly placed and you could tell he had spent time arranging things to accommodate the small living quarters. What caught my attention was his clothing. There were five suits hanging on a rack. All were covered with a plastic laundry bag and you could tell they had been recently dry cleaned. 19

Each suit had the exact same spacing between them, as if the distance had been measured. Under the suits on the floor, four pairs of shoes were placed with the same precision. There was also one pair of khakis and he was wearing blue jeans. Completing his wardrobe were four long-sleeved white shirts, and two short-sleeved plaid sport shirts. In the corner were four bottles of Clorox like the one I had seen the night before. His personal possessions consisted of a Bible, an iron, and a battery powered radio. There was a tiny stove in the center attached to the stove pipe. Beside the stove was a metal bucket filled with coal. This, I assumed, is where he prepared his meals. Friday night the service began almost identical to the night before. Brother Wayne was dressed in a blue and white striped seersucker suit this time. He wore blue suede shoes which I had previously seen in his living quarters. Just as Brother Wayne was about to take the podium, the crowd’s attention was directed to a late arrival. It was Jenny Lynn. When I saw her, I thought I was seeing an angel. She wore a solid white dress that went to just below her knees. There was some type of red scarf around her neck and she had on red shoes with low heels. Her long hair was in a bun held in place with something that looked like decorative chopsticks. They had red and green rhinestones. There were no seats remaining but a man in his early forties stood to give her his seat. She sat about halfway from the front of the tent in a seat by the aisle. Then Brother Wayne started his sermon. The excitement and feedback from the crowd grew. Then, when he lifted his arms, it became totally silent. “Brothers and Sisters, tonight is a healing service.” He then started walking up the aisle, stopping by Jenny Lynn. He reached his hand out and said, “This lady needs healing.” He reached for her hand and said, “Do you want the Lord to heal you?” I am not sure if she said anything or even nodded affirmatively. I could not see or hear what happened, but the next thing I knew, he was leading her to the front of the tent. He started to pray, she started to cry.


He then turned to the crowd and said, “The Lord tells me this lady suffers from a broken heart.”

With that, he grabbed her chest in the vicinity of her heart. Buck and I looked at each other as we realized this profession had hidden benefits. It appeared to us Brother Wayne was holding her breast in his cupped hand. He continued praying for several minutes. He then led her back to her seat. She was pale and looked weak, almost sick. Her hair had begun to unravel from the neat bun with the chopsticks. I had never seen her look unkempt before. Buck and I missed the next service but we were told Jenny Lynn was there and she came early. We did not miss again and Jenny Lynn was always there. We had never been paid for any of our work, so on the last Friday of the scheduled meetings, we asked Brother Wayne about getting our money. A bucket had been passed at each service and we were amazed at the amount of money that was dropped in. He said he would be glad to pay us then, but if we would wait until after the last service and he counted the donations, he felt the Lord had blessed him enough to pay us double. We agreed. That night, the service started as a healing service and evolved into a spirit-filled event where Brother Wayne would put his hands on the head of those who came forward. Many would then faint and fall back on the ground. He said the Holy Spirit had “slain them in the spirit.” Jenny Lynn now sat on the first row. We watched as a number of young girls came up to have hands laid on them. Buck and I thought it may be interesting if we went to the area behind the pulpit. If you got slain, you always fell with your feet pointed in that direction. We thought we might get a view of the girls when their dresses flew up. This proved to not be the case, as several women were throwing sheets over them as soon as they fell. Before we could make our way back to the area in front of the pulpit, Brother Wayne raised his arms. The audience obeyed with that distinct silence. “Brothers and Sisters, tonight we have serpents.” A gasp came from the audience. Brother Wayne picked up the cage with Satan’s Brother in it. He walked to the center of

the tent, opened the cage, reached in, and retrieved the snake. He lifted the snake by the center of his body and then he began to make a noise I cannot describe to this day. Someone said, “He is speaking in tongues.” The sounds he uttered were most unusual, with almost all the words beginning with hard consonants. He lifted the snake to his eye level and the snake recoiled as if to strike. It did not. This was the first and only time I was ever frightened while being with Brother Wayne. Others began to speak in tongues and it was not gibberish. No one could make up sounds like that. I even found myself trying to do so. Several in the audience reached out to touch the snake, but he turned away and, soon, he put the snake back in the cage. He handed the cage to Buck, who then carefully placed it behind the pulpit. Saturday, the next night, was the last night of the revival. Again, Jenny Lynn was there in the front row. To describe it briefly, the service contained all of the strange things that had been done on prior nights. He claimed he drank strychnine, he spoke in tongues, he healed the sick, several were slain in the spirit, and he handled Satan’s Brother. After the service, and being Saturday night, Buck and I went to Bogue Chitto. For a while, we played the pinball machine, then we went to Dude’s place and shot pool. About midnight, we were walking home and, as we walked across the new bridge, we spotted Jenny Lynn’s car in the compound. The only other vehicle was Brother Wayne’s truck and trailer. In the middle of the bridge, we could look over into the creek by the camp and see two people standing facing each other. It was a bright, moonlit night. The moon cast a golden glow on the water from just in front of us, up to and beyond the couple. I could not help but think of the pillar of fire that led the children of Israel to the Promised Land. It was Brother Wayne and Jenny Lynn. We assumed it was a private baptizing service for her, so we crept through the concrete boulders to watch. We got within about fifty yards. The cars passing on the new bridge made enough noise that we could not be heard. We could tell this was not a normal baptizing. They were facing each other with their profiles to us. We could see Jenny Lynn’s breasts, even the details. From what we could

see, neither one of them had on any clothes. We watched him take each of her hands and pull her toward him. They kissed for a minute or two. Jenny Lynn reached into her hair, removed the chopsticks, and dropped them into the water. Her hair fell and covered her breasts. Brother Wayne then led her to a flat concrete slab on which he had previously placed a blanket. He lifted her onto it. Then he pulled himself up beside her and they rolled together. In a moment, she disappeared underneath him. That night we saw something we had never seen before. The parts we could not see, our imaginations provided the details. For the first time, being in Bogue Chitto was more fun than being in Brookhaven. We crept away and started walking toward home. Our emotions were mixed. I don’t think we faulted Brother Wayne for falling from grace. How could anyone resist Jenny Lynn if given the opportunity? I think we were jealous that the county’s most beautiful woman, one we were infatuated with all our lives, was human.

Finally, Buck said, “At least we got to watch. No one else can say that.” ---------Monday we went to help Brother Wayne pack up with expectations of getting a nice payday. When we arrived, everything was gone. There was not a trace of him having ever been there. Later that day, we learned Jenny Lynn was gone too. Word went through the community that she was missing and so was the preacher. Buck and I were questioned at length by the authorities but we never told them what we had seen on Saturday night. Some talked of dragging the creek to see if she had been the victim of foul play, but I think the authorities knew what had happened. I never saw or heard of them again. The subject was just not discussed. For years, I wondered what happened to those two. I wondered about the Clorox, the tongues, the snake, and the slaying in the spirit. I cannot and do not deny it happened. I saw it with my own eyes, but I can’t explain it.

When I decided to write this story, I tried to contact Jenny Lynn’s relatives. Most would not talk to me. I am sure if they read this story, they are glad they did not. But one cousin did. One of her younger cousins told me the lovers moved to West Virginia and married. They were happy until tragedy struck. About fourteen years later, their twelve-year-old daughter was bitten by a rattlesnake at one of the services and died. After the death of his daughter, Brother Wayne never handled snakes again. He and Jenny Lynn moved to Johnson City, Tennessee where he established a successful traditional Pentecostal church. Brother Wayne passed away in 2009. Her cousin told me Jenny Lynn died the next year. She said she just wasted away and died. Her death certificate says the cause of death was “failure to thrive” but her cousin says she died of a broken heart.

 John S. Case

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is a strange little month compared to its 30-31 day cousins. It is one of the last months to be added to the calendar and, at one time, had as little as 23 days.

AQUARIUS January 20 - February 18

So why have Leap year? The modern calendar contains 365 days; however, the actual time it takes for Earth to orbit the Sun is slightly longer (roughly 365.2421 days). That might not seem like a lot, but over decades, centuries, and even millenniums, missing a quarter of a day really adds up. Ancient calendars, like the Sumerians 5,000 years ago, already added extra days to the year. When the Egyptians adopted the 365 day calendar, they knew there was a problem. Their solution? They added five extra days of festivals and partying at the end of the year. If it wasn’t for Caesar and Cleopatra’s affair, we would be way off since the Roman calendar was off by some 3 months. Ultimately, it was Julius Caesar who assigned 28 days for normal years and 29 days every 4 years. What is even crazier is that in the future, people might have to tweak it again. There is a lot of math in the reason why, but you can Google: The Gregorian calendar introduced by Pope Gregory XIII in 1582! 22

Strengths: Progressive, original, independent Weaknesses: Runs from emotional expression, temperamental, uncompromising

PISCES February 19 – March 20

Strengths: Compassionate, artistic, intuitive, gentle, wise, musical Weaknesses: Fearful, overly trusting, sad, desire to escape reality

STRANGE BUT TRUE February or Febuary?

February registers 423 million hits on Google. The misspelling “Febuary” has 310 million. That seems like it shouldn’t be that close.

BIRTHSTONE The birthstone for February is Amethyst. It is made of crystalline quartz in shades of purple, lilac or mauve. Amethyst is a stone traditionally worn to guard against drunkeness and to instill a sober mind. The word amethyst comes from the Greek meaning "without drunkenness" and amethyst is believed to protect one from poison.

FLOWER The Primrose is one of the earliest spring flowers to bloom. People love this flower so much, that in populated areas it is now illegal to pick or remove the flower without permission from the property owner. It symbolizes modesty, distinction and virtue.


Story by Dawn Rivera

Graphics by Devin Reeson



We have all seen strange “holidays”in every month, but this one must be directed to us; February is “Return Shopping Carts to the Supermarket” Month. If you have been to a parade, you know what I am saying. Also recognized:

1836 Slidell settlers John William Gause and his

1st week of February: African Heritage & Health Week

2017 Southside Cafe' owner Chris Legrand

3rd weekend of February: National Margarita Weekend American Heart Month Black History Month Canned Food Month Chocolate Lovers Month Creative Romance Month Potato Lovers Month Hot Breakfast Month Cherry Month Snack Food Month

GOVERNMENT 1870 The 15th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution is ratified. It guarantees the right of citizens to vote regardless of race, color, or previous condition of servitude. In 1922, the U.S. Supreme Court upholds the 19th Amendment to the Constitution, which guarantees the right of women to vote.

1789 George Washington is elected as the first U.S. Electoral College President.

1999 The impeachment trial of President Bill Clinton

in the U.S Senate ends with a not guilty verdict.

younger brother, Wesley Coke Asbury Gause, Judge Wingate, and several others, leave Shallotte, North Carolina.

2013 Slidell Sentry News closes catches a 140-pound amberjack, breaking the Louisiana record.

POP CULTURE 1964 G.I. Joe action figures go on sale 1958 The Grammy Awards are first held 1970 The Beatles release U.S. album Hey Jude 1982 Late Night with David Letterman debuts 2004 Facebook launches as "" 2010 New Orleans Saints win their very first Super Bowl!

2003 Sixteen minutes before landing, the

Space Shuttle Columbia breaks apart in flight over west Texas

1827 New Orleans kicks off its first Mardi Gras

Of Your Money

By Mike Rich, CFP®

Pontchartrain Investment Management

When it comes to your money, who do you trust? While I was on vacation with my family just after Christmas, I finished reading – for the second time – a book by Diana B. Henriques called “The Wizard of Lies.” It’s about Bernie Madoff, the storied Wall Street investment manager who carried out a multi-billion dollar Ponzi scheme for what investigators think was at least 20 years. Upon his conviction in 2009, Mr. Madoff was sentenced to spend 150 years in prison. Unless he is pardoned, he will be in jail (currently, he’s at the Federal Correctional Institution outside of Butner, North Carolina) until his scheduled release date of November 14, 2139. Yes, 2139. I could write an entire article about the book, but wouldn’t do it justice, so you might want to read it yourself, or watch the HBO movie. Ms. Henriques is a masterful writer, and the story she weaves is fascinating, and very, very sad. Although much of the money Mr. Madoff stole has been recovered and returned to investors, few people were made completely whole, and lives were ruined.


I read the book twice (and watched the movie while Mary and I were flying back from Italy last October) because, as a financial advisor, it’s astonishing to me that Mr. Madoff could have pulled off such a massive fraud for so long, despite all of the red flags being waved in front of the Securities and Exchange Commission’s nose. Mine is a highly-regulated business, and, even though my clients might not be aware of it, the scrutiny under which I do my work is intense. As it should be. When you are dealing with someone’s money, the standards for safety and trust must be high. It’s unimaginable to me how the Madoff fraud went undetected for so long. In the book’s epilogue, Ms. Henriques poses two telling questions. She asks first, “How can we improve the world that investors live in?” and, second, “What kind of regime will work in a world where nobody reads the fine print, where investing is almost always a blind leap of faith?” My answer, based on nearly ten years of experience as an advisor who has helped hundreds of people work toward achieving financial security, is to find someone you can trust. And, if you work with me, here are some of the things we might do together:


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One of the biggest hurdles people have in success with money is financial disorganization. Just about everyone has four or five or six different parts to his or her financial life. My guess is that many of you who are reading this article have homeowner’s insurance, a checking account, a mortgage, a 401(k) at work, a life insurance policy, and maybe a lot more. Here’s the issue: are all of those parts of your money life working together to optimize your family’s well-being? For example, is your car insurance agent aware that you have enough money in your savings account to handle a bigger deductible, which will lower your premium, thus freeing up cash for investing? Does the HR person at work know that most of your money might be tied up in your 401(k) plan? Does she know that when you retire you will have to pay taxes on every penny of it, and that, maybe it would be a good idea to have some tax-free money to spend when you’re

old? If you don’t have a financial advisor, how would you know these and other important things about your money? Is someone on the Internet going to tell you?

2. I WILL HELP YOU PROTECT WHAT YOU HAVE AND WHAT MIGHT COME IN THE FUTURE. It’s my core belief that protecting one’s assets comes first, even before investing. Life and disability insurance are a must if you support a family. It’s never too early to start this. For example, as the financial advisor to my grandchildren, I recommended to their parents that they purchase cash value life insurance for them, which they did. Now, Rex, Maxwell, Grace, Allison, and Posey Jane not only have life insurance that will stay with them for the rest of their lives (as long as someone continues to pay the premiums), they have guaranteed insurability if they want to buy more when they’re older. Plus, their policies are building cash value, which they can use in the future however they wish.1 Using insurance to protect what you have and what might come in the future is one of the bedrocks of financial planning, even for kids who don’t have money yet. Call me to find out to make this work for you and your family.

3. I WILL HELP YOU SET GOALS AND DESIGN A PLAN FOR ATTAINING THEM. This is where a lot of people fail when working to achieve financial security. If you don’t have goals for what you want your money to do, you could end up just meandering your way to what I call “financial mediocrity.” Wanting to retire someday is not a goal, it’s a wish. When I work with clients on their goals, we make them SMART: Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Realistic, and Time-bound. Here’s an example: I want to retire at age 64, with an income of $60,000 in addition to my Social Security benefit. I want my income to keep up with inflation at a rate of 3% per year, and my spouse and I want to take a nice vacation to Europe every other year until we are 80. Then, I want to leave $100,000 for final expenses, with our home going to our children. Now, that’s what I call a goal. We have something to shoot for, and I can design a plan that fits.

4. I WILL WORK HARD TO KEEP YOU FROM MAKING “THE BIG BOO-BOO.” Without a doubt, this is one of the most important things I do for my clients. What’s The Big BooBoo? The gory details are different for everyone, but it boils down to this: making a huge mistake with your money at the worst possible time.

Options come in handy for this handy man.

Like, moving your 401(k) to cash in 2008, even though you’re only 50 years old, and thinking that you’ll know when it’s the right time to “get back in.” Like, using CD ladders because you don’t trust the stock market, even though you have 35 years until retirement. Like, claiming your Social Security benefit too early because “I don’t trust the government.” That kind of stuff. It can ruin people financially, and my job is to keep it from happening. I might be wrong, but my guess is that more people than not would like someone to guide them financially. They just don’t know where to turn. Who can I trust? How much will it cost? How long will it take? What value will I get? These are legitimate questions, and events like the Madoff fraud don’t inspire a lot of confidence. The good news, however, is that most financial advisors are like a lot of other professionals: hard-working, trustworthy, and dedicated to the well-being of their clients. To find out how working with a financial professional might help you and your family achieve your goals, call me today for a free consultation. 1

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a s i L Mo n a Moon Pie


saturday march 10, 2018

“The Krewe of Mona Lisa and MoonPie promotes the arts, Olde Towne Slidell, and good humor.” That mission statement is a reflection of the groups’ origin as an arts parade, marching exclusively through Olde Towne, bringing mirth and merriment to the masses. The Krewe is credited by business owners with providing their best day of the year, due to the influx of the thousands of people who attend this madcap celebration. In an effort to expand membership and therefore present a bigger spectacle, the Krewe has moved the parade date entirely out of the Mardi Gras season, and will henceforth parade on a new interstellar holiday which will be designated as “Mona Fest.”


Mona Fest will be celebrated on the night before Slidell’s St. Patricks’ parade, on March 10, 2018 at 7pm. Business owners in Olde Towne who benefit from the attendees are encouraged to become sponsors, insuring that this Krewe will continue to promote Olde Towne. Info on memberships and sponsorships may be found at The Krewe is proud to announce this year’s royalty. The king and queen are tireless promoters of this city and their positive attitudes and efforts make Slidell a better place. Queen Mona Lisa is Suzie Hunt. Suzie has been active in the Krewe since 2006, and as a longtime board member, she was rewarded in 2014 by the Krewe with the title of “Duchess of MoonPie.” She

has marched as a quilting bee, Mary Queen of the Scotties, a chicken, and The Who Dat version of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. Readers may know her as the former Times Picayune “Slidell Town Talk” columnist. She is an active member of Aldersgate United Methodist Church, where she is host to the senior citizens group, a leader for women’s bible studies, active in the Hearts from Home ministry, the Family Promise Team, and the Food Team. She is the Director of Congregational Care and Missions. She is a member of the Slidell Women’s Civic Club. Other volunteer activities have included the Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts, Camellia Quilters, Friends of the Slidell Library, Northshore H.S. Robotics Club and Habitat for Humanity. Krewe of Mona Lisa and MoonPie

Olde Towne , 7pm King Danny Blackburn comes with a previous royal title, King Neptune 9th of the Krewe of Bilge in 1989. He has volunteered since 2008 at the Camellia City Market, held each Saturday in the heart of the city. His Majesty got involved in Slidell’s Mainstreet program helping to book the arts and crafts vendors, music, and other entertainment for Olde Towne Alive. As co-founder of Slidell’s Mardi Gras dog parade, Krewe de Paws, he produced the city’s first official Meeting of the Krewe in which the royals of Mona Lisa and MoonPie and Krewe de Paws arrived on their royal barges and toasted at Palmettos on the Bayou. As a member of Leadership Northshore class of 2014, his team raised funds for the new Firehouse Safety Training Trailer for the District 1 Fire Department. He also works with Leadership Northshore's board of the Slidell Jazz & Blues Festival. As a member of the Rotary Club of Slidell, he has been involved in community projects including Slidell Heritage Festival as the MC/DJ and Entertainment Chair, then helped establish a new advisory board for the Boys & Girls Club that developed Slidell’s Bayou Christmas.

Two Grand Marshalls will honor the Krewe with their presence. Alice and Lawrence Baratinni are artists in their own right. Movie Sets rents props to filmmakers, and their event rental space has an eclectic collection of items, many of which you may recognize from past movies! Certainly you have seen the place from I-10 and have marveled at the vintage autos parked there! Visit to become a participant in Earth’s inaugural Mona Fest Parade!

This Valentine’s Day, shop at the heart of our city! Vintage Jewelry Collectibles


Dining Gifts & More!

Barbara’s Victorian Closet Mall • Slidell Museum Antiques & Art on First • Carolynn’s Wonderland • Slidell Magazine Aunt Tiques Curiosities & Collectibles • Magnolia House Antiques Mall The Who Dat Shoppe • Terry Lynn’s Café • French Bee Interiors Jeanie’s Southern Traditions • Annette’s House of Decor Guilty Treasures • Third Generation Antiques/Consignments

Slidell Historical Antique Association





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The three traditional pillars of Lenten observance are prayer, fasting and almsgiving. Although practices may differ from person to person and church to church, following are our Lenten pastoral plans at Our Lady of Lourdes:

Carpe Diem Tell the truth, when you think of the month of February, what’s the first thing that pops into your mind? Groundhog’s Day? Superbowl LII, Valentine chocolate? Chinese New Year? Mardi Gras parades? All do happen in this month, 2018. Our parish family wants to offer you two additional considerations. FIRST: Our parish feast day is February 11 and we memorialize the experiences of a 14 year-old girl named Bernadette Soubirous with Our Lady of Lourdes (a Roman Catholic title of the Blessed Virgin Mary) venerated in honor of 18 apparitions. Bernadette first saw Mary on this date at a hollowed out rock in 1858 in the vicinity of Lourdes, France. She described what she saw: “I saw a lady dressed in white. She wore a white dress, an equally white veil, a blue belt and a yellow rose on each foot.” Upon seeing the Lady, who had a Rosary draped over her right arm, Bernadette began praying the Rosary. When the prayer ended, the Lady suddenly vanished. Bernadette was canonized a saint in 1933. The Song of Bernadette is a 1943 biographical, drama film based on the 1941 novel of the same name by Franz Werfel. The movie won four Oscars at the 1943 Academy Awards. Today, the Lourdes Grotto (France) is about hope and healings of all kind – physical, spiritual, emotional - in prayer, people enter the famous Lourdes bath waters in utter openness to God’s will. The procession of the Blessed Sacrament, Mass at the grotto and the nightly candlelight procession are among other highlights for pilgrims. Our human condition means we are always in need of healing.

Our parish will commemorate Our Lady of Lourdes on Sunday, February 11, with a Rosary Procession on Westchester Boulevard after the 5:30 evening Mass. We will then return to the Church for Benediction with the Blessed Sacrament. Everyone is welcome to join us in these prayerful opportunities whether through devotion or curiosity. SECOND: Mardi Gras is Tuesday, February 13. At midnight, Rex and Comus traditionally meet and the Carnival season disappears in tons of trash that signal the official beginning of the season of LENT on Ash Wednesday. Lent is considered a time for Christians to reflect, repent, and pray as a way of preparing their hearts for Holy Week and Easter. It is commonly observed by many Christian denominations—Catholic, Anglican, Lutheran, and others—although not every Christian denomination does so. Because Lent is not officially instituted in Scripture, observing it isn’t in any way a “requirement” of Christianity. However, Christians from many different theological persuasions choose to observe it as a way of focusing their thoughts on Jesus Christ. Let the Latin proverb, Carpe Diem (seize the day) be your challenge to make the most of each and every day of Lent leading you to the Resurrection joy of Christ this Easter. United in the suffering Jesus,

Reverend W.C. Paysse Pastor

PRAYER Ash Wednesday (Valentine, 2/14): Masses, followed by ashes: 8:30am; 12:05pm; 6:30pm Confessions: 5:00-6:15pm (Job 42:4-6 offers an example of ash used as a symbol of repentance.) Wednesdays of Lent: Confessions: 5-6:15pm; Mass: 6:30pm Fridays of Lent: Stations of the Cross Stations: 8am; Mass: 8:30am Stations: 6pm; Mass: 6:30pm FASTING Fasting the 40 days of Lent (for Catholics 18-59 year olds means the two collations should not equal another full meal) and abstinence from meat is observed on Ash Wednesday and on all Fridays. As an exercise in prayerful self-denial, personal choices to give up chocolate, beer, or other personal preferences during Lent are considered a sacrifice. When one abstains from meat but eats a shrimp po-boy or red fish stuffed with crab that may not exactly be a sacrifice. Abstinence and other self-denial are a spiritual link to those whose diets and lifestyles are sparse and simple. ALMSGIVING Almsgiving, the third traditional pillar of Lent is a sign of our care for those in need and an expression of our gratitude for all that God has given to us. Works of charity, support of Catholic Relief Services (CRS), or Friends of St. Anthony, the promotion of justice, and volunteering time and talent are integral elements of Gospel living and giving.



Part II

Story and photos by Donna Bush ast month, I shared with you a story about the New Orleans Police Department (NOPD) and Slidell Police Department (SPD) mounted divisions – our four-legged horse officers. This month, I want to tell you about our other four-legged officers – the canine (K9) divisions.

at Penn State University, “We found that when airflow enters the nose [of a dog], it splits into two different flow paths, one for olfaction and one for respiration.” A dog exhales through the side slits of their nose, which allows the odor that they inhaled to stay in the back of their nose a little longer.

Dogs have an incredibly keen sense of smell, with up to 300 million olfactory receptors in their noses, compared to a human’s measly six million. Plus, the part of a dog’s brain dedicated to analyzing various smells is proportionately 40 times larger than ours. Alexandra Horowitz, a dog-cognition scientist at Barnard College, explains, “While we might notice if our coffee has had a teaspoon of sugar added to it, a dog could detect a teaspoon of sugar in a million gallons of water (roughly the equivalent of two Olympic-sized pools).”

Now that you know why dogs have such a keen sense of smell, lets explore what they can do with it.


A dog’s nose operates differently than our own. When we inhale, we breathe and smell through the same airways inside our nose. Not so for dogs. When a dog inhales, a fold of tissue just inside their nostril helps to separate the two functions. Per Brent Craven, a bioengineer 30

Canine officers can be trained for a single or a dual purpose, with the majority trained for dual. The most common purpose is as a patrol dog, used in the search and apprehension of a suspect. It sounds simple but it's much more complex. A search could be indoors or outdoors. With an indoor search, they could be hunting for a suspect hiding anywhere inside a building. After my conversation with Captain John Gallaher, head of the SPD Canine Division, I gained a new appreciation for what is involved in such a search. For instance, the handler (officer in charge of the K9 officer) would have to be aware of the building’s construction. Is there a false ceiling? If so, the suspect’s scent can

be rising and coming from another room. Is the building’s air conditioning or heating system on? If it is, a draft could be created, causing the scent to be shifted. If the search is outdoors, officers might be pursuing a fugitive from a robbery. All they might know is that the fugitive ran out of the building on foot. They may or may not have any direction to their track. This is where a K9 proves most beneficial. The dog is brought to the scene and given the command to track. What they are tracking is the freshest human scent. Now bear in mind, this isn’t like the cops and robbers TV shows we’ve all watched. The dog is not given a piece of the suspect’s clothing or personal belonging to aid his search. The K9 officer is strictly tracking the freshest human scent. Also, keep in mind that there are a lot of other human scents in this area. The K9 officer is able to separate these and follow the freshest to the point where he catches the suspect. Their keen sense of smell is also utilized for article searches. For instance, they can locate possible evidence that a suspect dropped, aiding in the apprehension.

Slidell Police Department has three handlers and K9 officers: Justin Stokes with officer Scout, the oldest of the K9 team at 8 years old, Clint McCall with officer Quest, and Jake Morris with the youngest of the group, officer Kano, at 2 years old. All are German Shepherds imported from the Netherlands. The K9 division was formed in 1987 and has been a money-saving, life-saving program ever since. As Captain Gallaher explained, “A K9 costs $15,500 per dog and works 8-10 years before retirement. That’s a cost of $1,500 per year. A dog can easily pay for itself in one case. For example, a robbery is committed this afternoon and the suspect runs. I bring in my K9 officer who responds, tracks and apprehends the suspect in 15 minutes. It’s a huge cost savings and manpower savings.” I joined the SPD K9 team for their weekly nighttime and daytime training sessions. Each week, they are put through the paces to keep them fresh on anything they could possibly encounter. Of course, each handler works with his own dog on a daily basis, keeping him sharp and prepared. K9 dogs are athletes and must be treated as such. Regular care by veterinarian Michael Edwards at Pontchartrain Animal Hospital includes checkups, teeth cleaning and any other necessary visits. Weight is maintained. They are fed quality dog food, and no table scraps or treats. Their reward is their work and catching their toy. Each handler and K9 attends an intense five-week training program where they learn to work together. Understanding the dog’s demeanor is a huge part of the success of the team. As the dog comes closer to his quarry, his behavior changes. His handler must be able to recognize this and know what it means. Weekly ten hour training sessions involve

obedience work, agility training, tracking and bite work. These sessions take place throughout various neighborhoods, always challenging the dogs in a different manner. They might include someone hiding in a tree or under a house. Obedience consists of the handler issuing commands to the dog to sit, come, heel, track, search and the dog obeying. By the way, all of the commands are in Dutch! Yes, the dogs come from the Netherlands; therefore, the handlers must learn the Dutch commands, approximately fifteen of them! Agility work at the department’s course simulates the types of obstacles that the dog might encounter in any day’s work. It is built to the United States Police Canine Association (USPCA) specifications. Obstacles include: A window to jump through and both chain link and picket fences to jump over. The dog must jump through the window approximately three foot off the ground and continue to jump the chain link fence, picket fence and another chain link fence. A catwalk evaluates the dog’s ability to climb a ladder, taking it to a two-foot wide platform six-feet off the ground, leading to a ten-foot dismount ramp. The dog must stay on the platform until commanded to dismount. The broad jump tests the dog’s ability to leap a distance of six feet over progressively taller boards. The A-frame challenges the ability of the dog to climb a six foot high angled board, jump from the peak to a three foot high platform and dismount on command. The crawl evaluates the dog’s ability to crawl through a tight tunnel on command. It also simulates crawling under a raised house searching for a suspect.

Boxes simulate the tracking involved in a building search. A person hides in one of the boxes and the dog must detect their scent. While all of these were extremely interesting, I found the bitework fascinating. Bitework simulates the apprehension of a suspect. Captain Gallaher wore the bite-sleeve as each handler brought out his K9 to perform the drill. As the handler releases his K9, it charges for the bite-sleeve, often jumping completely off the ground to catch the sleeve. Many times, the impact would swing around the Captain as he ‘danced’ with the dog. Gallaher put each dog through their paces, as many suspects would do. He pushed the dog into shrubs, wrapped his leg around the dog’s body, and tried to loosen the dog’s grip, everything a suspect might try. None of it worked, the dogs held tight! When I said the dog charges for the bite-sleeve, I’m saying that you are not going to outrun one of these dogs! Quest was clocked at 29 mph! If I learned one thing with this story, I learned that if I were ever in a K9 situation, I would stand completely still. After all, the dogs are trained to apprehend a running suspect! The K9 team’s regular shift is nighttime but they are on call 24/7 should the need arise. I rode along with Officer Clint McCall and Quest one night to experience an average patrol scenario. Quest was well behaved and snoozed quietly as we patrolled the three sections of Slidell city limits. Clint explained that K9 units, like supervisors, patrol all sections of Slidell and may respond to any call that is issued. Regular patrol units are assigned a specific area for their shift. We roamed all over the city as Clint pointed out some of the seedier areas that have been hotbeds for drug activity in the past, but are now cleaned up drastically. We

responded to a call in Section 1 at a McDonald’s restaurant where a young man was threatening his ex-girlfriend. We arrived on the scene first, followed shortly by Officer Cory Ray. Both officers offered fatherly advice to the young man when the manager said he would press charges if he came back again. Sadly, the advice appeared to fall on deaf ears.

K9 OFFICERS IN ACTION! SPD - April 2015: SPD received a call about a disturbance in Olde Towne. As SPD arrived on the scene, a man ran from a nearby bar, grabbed a gun out of his motorcycle bag and began shooting in the direction of the Slidell Soda Shop, filled with women and children. One officer was shot in the leg. The officers sheltered behind the K9 vehicle. When the shooter paused to reload his weapon, Officer Stokes activated his bailout system, remotely opening the driver-side back door of his vehicle, allowing Scout to charge into action, disabling the shooter. Thanks to his extensive training, Scout knew exactly where to go and what to do. SPD - March 2017: Officer Clint McCall observed a wanted suspect at a Slidell gas station. As officers approached, the suspect fled on foot. Officer Stokes and K9 officer Scout tracked and apprehended the suspect. NOPD - Harold shared a story where a suspect allegedly broke into a residence, then shot and killed a responding officer. The suspect snuck into an alley and hid in the crawl space of a raised house. It was a dark area and impossible to view. Harold and his K9, Max, worked the area until Max gave him the sign that he had found where the suspect was hiding. The suspect began shooting and Max was shot! Harold returned fire, apprehending the suspect. Max was rushed to the vet and survived! SPD Officer Stokes, a resident of Pearl River, was called in to assist the Pearl River Police Department. There was a suspect in a wooded area near the Pearl River Industrial Park. Stokes took K9 Scout into the area. The suspect had dug a hole in the ground, covering himself in leaves and twigs. Stokes, along with Scout, perused the area. Scout alerted on what looked like a big pile of leaves. He dove in and came out with the arm of the suspect they were looking for! Possibly the most dramatic rescue by a K9 took place in Pearlington, MS, just a few miles outside of Slidell. A Hancock County Sheriff’s Deputy stopped because of a slumped driver in what appeared to be an abandoned vehicle. As he approached the vehicle, two men came out of the woods, surrounding him. The three men threatened to slit his throat, as they dragged him towards a wooded area. The officer was able to activate his bailout system, allowing his partner, K9 Lucas, to aid him. The deputy was beaten and sustained a deep cut to his forehead from a box-cutter. Without the aid of his partner, the ending could have been much worse. Lucas suffered a torn ligament, broken teeth and road rash as he attempted to thwart the assailants. He made a full recovery, as did his partner.

With rain toggling between intermittent and constant, we patrolled the city, as I learned more about the various subdivisions. Clint explained how weather impacts crime frequency, “When temps are really cold or it is raining, people, even crooks, have a tendency to stay inside, but we may see more robberies.” Around 9:30pm, the call comes in "64G," (armed robbery with a gun) on Old Spanish Trail. We are on Front Street and on the scene in less than two minutes. As soon as Clint speeds up, Quest knows what is about to happen! The flashing lights come on and he gets more excited, barking and running back and forth. At an intersection, Clint hits the siren and Quest is raring to go! The suspect left the business on foot, running south. As soon as Clint opens the back of the vehicle to get Quest’s leash, Quest ramps up the barking even more. He’s ready to go to work! I’m able to get a couple of photos of Clint, Quest and the backup officer as they start their search. I stay in the vehicle, as required. This is an active crime scene and I don’t want to interfere in the investigation. The suspect was not apprehended, but I’m sure that is only temporary. We continue searching for a six foot white male subject wearing a camo hoodie until almost midnight. As I mentioned earlier, dogs are trained for dual purposes: tracking and narcotics. They are trained on five different narcotic scents, often utilized for vehicle drug searches and school bus searches, prior to school trips. A common purpose with all K9s is officer safety. There is an amazing bond established between dog and handler. I asked John, “Why a K9 over a human partner?” I was told jokingly, “They don’t talk back. Seriously, the main reason is they are a partner and a tool, making our jobs safer and easier. Handler and K9 are a team.” Interestingly enough, A&E’s hit TV show, Live PD, was in town filming an edition that included SPD’s debut while I was writing this story. I met Paul and Ben, the freelance cameramen

for the show. Ben was strictly behind the camera, but Paul was suited up, complete with bulletproof vest! We were both after the same shot – a K9 officer and handler on the track of a suspect. Officer Justin Stokes with K9 Scout and officer Jake Morris with K9 Kano obliged us with the shots. In addition to interviewing SPD, I also interviewed New Orleans Police Department (NOPD) K9 division. Like SPD, NOPD has dual-purpose dogs. However, NOPD has two different kinds of dualpurpose dogs: tracking/apprehension and narcotics or tracking/apprehension and explosives. No dog is ever trained for both narcotics and explosives. That would be virtually impossible. NOPD currently has seven handlers with five dogs, two of which are in explosives training. Soon NOPD will replace two dogs who recently passed. Present breeds are three Belgium Malinois, one German Shepherd and one mix Malinois / German Shepherd. The Belgium Malinois has become a popular breed in military and police work. They look much like a Shepherd with a smaller frame. I met with Harold Chambliss, NOPD’s master trainer, who officially retired last year from a 37-year NOPD career, but stayed on as a civilian to continue training K9 officers and their handlers. It’s easy to see Harold loves his job and is passionate about the work he does. When a new dog comes in, Harold puts him through a variety of tests to determine which purpose he is best suited for. He pairs the dog and handler based on their unique personalities and temperament. “They need to compliment each other.” NOPD’s tracking and narcotics dogs are trained like SPD. However, NOPD also has explosives/ammunitions dogs. Harold explains, “Explosives dogs need a really high drive to perform the detection work. They must be willing to play all day long, which translates to searching all day long. The dog’s drive or success is determined by how long he will continue to play with his toy. The toy is the dog’s passion! If he will play with it to eternity, then the sky is the limit!” As with all K9s, their reward is their toy. No treats!

Explosives dogs are trained to search for 20+ odors. Additionally, they must be able to adapt to life in New Orleans – humidity, heat, culture, environment, sights, sounds, smells, etc. They are utilized for special events in the French Quarter: walking the streets, searching garbage cans, suspicious packages, The Morial Convention Center, races, and venues prior to VIP appearances. I attended NOPD training for the new K9 explosive officers, Officer Terrance Davis with K9 Joe, a 2 year old German Shepherd and Officer Jerome Shannon with K9 Carlos, an 18 month old Belgium Malinois. After the dogs performed some obedience work with their handlers, Harold donned thick plastic gloves and hid various explosives around the NOPD training area in several locations. The gloves keep the dogs from detecting a human scent on the explosives. Each dog led by his handler performed a thorough search of the vehicles in the parking lot until the dog alerted on the hiding place. Once he alerted, the handler would use a clicker and throw his toy to entice the dog away from the threat. Harold explained, “We don’t know what type of explosive we might have on hand. We want the dog away from the threat quickly. At this time, we would turn over the situation to the bomb squad.” Even though these dogs and their handlers were only in training for a few weeks, they were quite efficient in alerting on the explosives. I also observed the dogs sniffing out spent casings in record time! This ability could come into play after a shooting and investigators need to determine how many shots were fired.

What is in common between NOPD and SPD K9 Units? Both K9 divisions have existed for over 30 years. NOPD since 1961 and SPD since 1987. All K9 dogs are assigned to their handler for the duration of their career. A K9 cuts search time in half or less. Each local police department builds a covered concrete slab with a kennel in the backyard of the handler. All dogs must acclimate to the Louisiana heat and humidity. Every handler has an example of when his or her dog was instrumental in a crime resolution. All K9 vehicles are equipped with a heat alert system in case the vehicle reaches a pre-set temperature, somewhere in the 85-90 degree range. If this occurs, the system calls the handler, rolls down windows, turns on the vehicle fan, and blows the vehicle horn. All K9 vehicles are equipped with "bailout" systems that enable the handler, via a fob, to remotely open the backseat driver door in case of an emergency. All handlers love their job. You know a person loves their job when they have a dog trained to bite people for a living chewing on their arm and grinning all the while! I witnessed this with Captain John Gallaher.

K9 officers provide a valuable need and addition to our police forces. They protect the lives of our officers and provide a timesaving tool to aid in resolution of crimes. But they are more than that to the men and women who serve along side them. They are family members, ones who will and have put their lives on the line! Slidell Magazine thanks all of the police officers, two and four legged, for their service and protection to our community!


The Top Ten on the 10th is an update released on the 10th of each month by the St. Tammany Parish Department of Public Information. The Public Information Office brings you news about special events, public meetings, the Pet of the Week, infrastructure improvements, and they keep residents informed when there is an emergency event. Access St. Tammany Television, your local, high definition Government Access Channel, is housed within the Public Information Office. Here you can see original programming, public meetings and outside programming as well.




PUBLIC WORKS The Public Works Dept. paved over 95,000 feet of roadway in 2017. To stay informed about what's happening, use the interactive Progress Map on

Construction on the 54-acre detention pond, which is part of the Lower W-15 Area/ Lower French Branch Basin Drainage Improvement Project, is currently underway.



Cleco awarded St. Tammany Parish Government $43,001.42 in cash incentives for its commitment to energy efficiency. In total, 2,208 fixtures were upgraded to LEDs across four buildings, saving 430,014 kilowatt-hours (kWh) of electricity per year.



In 2017 the St. Tammany Regional Airport was awarded approximately $886,667 in combined funding from the LA DOTD Aviation Group and the Federal Aviation Administration for airfield lighting improvements.

The Code of Ordinances has been modernized, and now residents can access it in a digital searchable format.


The Emerald Forest Extension in the Covington area is open. It now extends from Highway 190 through to 11th street.


Almost 1000 animals found fur-ever homes in 2017!


The full-time litter abatement crew through Keep St. Tammany Beautiful (KSTB) cleaned over 1000 miles of roadways and removed over 462,000 pounds of litter from our streets in 2017. To volunteer email








You can drop off your bare trees during daylight hours at the Old Levee Board Property at 61134 Military Rd in Slidell.



Single Family New Construction permit totals finished strong in 2017 and became a benchmark permitting year for St. Tammany.


“Your Estate Matters” By Ronda M. Gabb, NP, JD, RFC


2018 NEW TAX LAW HIGHLIGHTS Since the new tax law of 2018 passed one week after the deadline date for my January 2018 article, I felt that I needed to correct some figures and provide a brief overview. First of all, what do we even call this new law? If you want the full legal name, it is called “An Act to Provide for Reconciliation Pursuant to Titles II and V of the Concurrent Resolution on the Budget for Fiscal Year 2018”. That is why many people just refer to it as “Trump’s Tax Law” or the “New Tax Law”. The biggest change for my estate planning law practice is that the estate and gift tax exemption amount has now doubled since 2017. With the inflation adjustment for 2018, each person may now pass the first $11.2 million to their loved ones free from any estate or gift tax, or $22.4 million per couple! For estates above this amount the highest estate tax bracket has remained at 40%. But before you get too excited about this and undo any complex estate planning you have already done, realize that these huge estate and gift tax exemption amounts (and the new individual tax rates) are only temporary. They are set to “sunset” on December 31, 2025. If you plan on making huge gifts to your loved ones prior to the sunset date, no one knows yet if the IRS will try and “clawback” these gifts into the donor’s estate. However, the corporate tax changes have been made permanent and have no sunset provisions. Section 529 plans (like the Louisiana START Savings Plan), will now allow you to use up to $10,000 per year from the plan, per student, for elementary and secondary education. What won’t be deductible any longer will be: Home Equity Lines of Credit (HELOC), mortgage interest on the mortgage balance above $750,000, and alimony payments (for agreements signed in 2019 or after).

Would you like to become a Louisiana Lifetime Notary Public? This 15-week course instructed by Ronda M. Gabb, Esq., is designed to help students successfully pass the Louisiana Notary Public Exam. It is also a great refresher course on Civil law basics and sound notarial practice for commissioned notaries and attorneys.

COURSE TOPICS INCLUDE: Duties of a Notary Public • Contracts • Juridical Acts • Mortgages, Suretyship Donation and Sale of Movables and Immovables • Testaments (Wills) & Successions Matrimonial Regimes • Partnerships, Corporations, LLCs • Miscellaneous Acts

TUESDAY EVENINGS: February 20 - May 29, 6:30 to 9:00 p.m. Ronda M. Gabb & Associates, LLC • 40 Louis Prima Drive, Covington, LA


$695.00 ($720.00 for credit card payments)


Saturday, June 2, 2018

STUDENTS MUST PURCHASE: 2018 Official Study Guide, Fundamentals of Louisiana Notarial Law and Practice on Louisiana Secretary of State’s website

Call 985-892-0942

or email for the registration form.

Registration is limited!

There have been no changes to the Section 121 capital gains tax exclusion for up to the first $250,000 of profit ($500,000 for most married couples) from the sale of your primary home (if you have lived there for two of the last five years); nor any changes to the step up in basis laws. However, there are numerous other changes in income and corporate tax brackets, deductions and exemptions but these tax matters are better discussed personally with your own CPA or Accountant.

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 •


Go Beyond Valentine

Short story fiction by Rose Marie Sand "You know what your problem is?” “I beg your pardon?” Roberta said. “Location, location, location,” Stuart said emphatically. “I’m not a retail store, Stuart,” Roberta replied. “And my love life is really none of your business!” “But you are selling something, sweetie. Yourself,” Stuart said. “And Slidell’s just not a big enough market for a gal like you.” Single for 5 years, married for 30 before that, Roberta was used to having her friends declare open season on her dating life. Or lack thereof. Dating – the very word was upsetting. Roberta hadn’t dated since she was 15, the year she met James at a Valentine’s Day sock hop in high school. Then James up and died on the day of their 30th wedding anniversary - five years ago come February 14th. “Okay, that’s it. Stuart, you know that fine line between open territory and a no-fly zone?” “Have I crossed it?” Stuart asked. “Look behind you, you passed it ten minutes ago. I’m outta here,” she said, emphatically placing the Café du Monde coffee mug in the sink and grabbing her purse. “Thanks for the coffee. Just tell Jenny I left three boxes for the January Women’s Shelter Clothing Drive in your garage and that I’ll meet her at BBC tonight.”


She fumbled with the key to her ten-year-old Camry and threw her purse on top of the fast food bags cluttering the passenger seat. “I gotta clean this car,” she muttered to herself. After tuning to soothing NPR talk radio in the background and blasting artic-level air conditioner on her cheeks, Roberta marveled that her best friend Jenny had betrayed her confidence to Stuart. Widowed at 57, it was several long, lonely years before Roberta tried online dating at the urging of her girlfriends. And as much as it irked her, Stuart was right about one thing. She hadn’t met any single men in her age group in her hometown. So, she reluctantly created a profile on a dating site called Selecting Seniors. At first, it was like playing an elaborate video game – profiles to invent and photos to edit - and she didn’t take it all very seriously. After a couple of weeks, she developed a method to vet potential dates. If a guy had a clever profile that made her smile, she’d ask for his full name so she could do a Google search. Sure, she reasoned, he could still be the proverbial axe murderer, but usually you could tell enough from a Google search to take the next step - a phone call.

“Roberta, I’m not kidding. You…” Stuart began. Her best friend’s husband was certainly persistent.

Some phone calls felt like a “job interview from hell,” but if that went well enough she’d ask them to meet at a local farmer’s market. Worse case scenario, she’d get shopping done and then say a quick adios. No harm, no foul.

“Enough, Stuart,” Roberta called out as the screen door slammed.

The first guy who sounded promising on the phone turned out to be more interested

in flirting with the vegetable vendor than Roberta. And the vendor’s name was Clyde. Another man who claimed to have a home on the lakefront in Mandeville turned out to be a 30 year old in Minnesota who was looking for a sugar-mama. And more than one man thought he was entitled to after-farmers-market-shopping sex. The next time she invited someone to meet at the market, the loser-to-be actually made a homophobic crack about Clyde, so she ditched him quickly. The last one passed the farmer’s market test, but their second meeting was a disaster. She made jokes when she’d report on her dates to her friends as if it was one big sitcom plot. But it wasn’t funny, and it wasn’t fun, anymore. Stuart’s comment had hit too close to home. Although she hadn’t thought in terms of selling herself, sometimes she caught her reflection in the mirror and didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her. She hadn’t had a haircut in months and most of her outfits seemed as drab as she felt. Roberta arrived at the ugly brown apartment complex that passed for home, parking in the spot nearest her third floor unit. After James died, she’d sold the big family home they’d shared for thirty years – with her kids grown and moved away, it felt empty and lonely, even with the accumulated furnishings of their lifetime. Most of their stuff was still packed in boxes in the apartment’s tiny spare bedroom. “I hate this place,” she grumbled, trudging up stair after stair. “I just hate my life.”

The tinkling wind chimes barely registered among her jumbled thoughts. A sudden gust of cold wind followed her inside, setting the chimes to music and slamming the front door shut. The force of the slam caused the pile of dishes in the sink to clatter but she had no more energy to deal with them than to finish the closet organization project she’d started yesterday. Although she’d resolved to put some color back into her wardrobe, dark clothes matched her mood these days and her unmade bed was heaped with an assortment of black jeans and tee shirts. She unceremoniously dumped the laundry on the floor. Then she set a two-hour alarm on her iPhone. “Nap, that’s all I need,” she thought, and pulled the grey comforter to her chin. After a dreamless sleep, there was no time to bathe or even change, so she tied her long brown hair into a bun without so much as the thought of a brush, and grabbed her keys. So what, she thought, if the January meeting of the Badass Book Club was hosted by the ever-fashionable Barbara. Although Barbara’s buffets ran more towards kale salad and sushi, she always stocked plenty of good wine. “I can always get take-out fried chicken on the way home,” Roberta reasoned, and thought of the night ahead. -------------------Five women, friends since their days at LSU, rotated hostess duties each month, framing their evenings with a loose discussion of whatever book the hostess recommended. It was a time to get caught up on each other's lives; the book discussion was an afterthought. Hence, the Badass name was as much about traditional book club rules as it reflected the attitude of the women. “I just know they’re all talking about me,” Roberta mused. “Jenny’s telling Stuart my secrets, Carly’s probably saying prayers at Sunday Mass for me, Lillian may have a spreadsheet about my dates, and Barbara just loves a sob story …” By the time she pulled up to Barbara’s twostory lakefront house, Roberta’s eyes were blazing. The back door was open and she followed the sound of soft chatter and laughter. She grabbed a crystal wine glass and filled it with Pinot Noir, then turned her attention to the assembled women draped casually about Barbara’s newest decorating passion – mid century modern furniture, austere paintings and assorted tchotchkes. A glance at the beautifully displayed food reinforced that she’d be stopping for fast food on the way home. “What the hell are you telling Stuart about

me?” she looked straight at her soon-to-beex best friend, Jenny. “I barely talk to the Neanderthal – what the hell are you yelling about?” Jenny met the fire in Roberta’s eyes innocently. “I stopped by your house to drop off those donations for the clothing drive, and Stuart started man-splaining my dating life! How’d he know anything about my dating life?” Jenny said. Carly, the southern belle of the Badass Book Club, deflected Roberta’s attention in a quietly authoritative voice. “Jenny, everybody knows you haven’t had the best luck in that department. But, bless your heart, it’ll happen. Why, I’ll bet someone will just fall out of the sky one day when you least expect it,” Carly said. “Carly, I know you think you’re encouraging, but you’ve been married to David since you were born. You have no idea what it’s like out there,” Roberta said. She looked around the room at the women who meant the most to her, who’d seen her through months at James’ bedside, his funeral, the barely coherent middle of the night phone calls, and months of isolation and disconnection. “And you’re freaking me out about the guy falling from the sky thing. I’m going to be terrified to get on a plane again.” Her anger began to subside, and was replaced with a forlorn feeling as she slumped in the nearest lime green chair. “This furniture is freaking uncomfortable, you know, Barbara,” Roberta complained. “I didn’t like it when my Mom had it, and I don’t like it now.” “What’s going on, Roberta?” Lillian perched on the chair’s armrest and placed one perfectly manicured hand on Roberta’s shoulder. Lillian’s charcoal business suit gave off the proper lawyerly vibes for the office, but in the candle-lit living room it screamed ‘sexy librarian.’ Roberta looked down at her own baggy sweatpants, and felt the frump emanating from her like the flame on Barbara’s damn candles. “Barb, you have enough scented candles in your house to wipe out a nation,” Roberta grumbled as she placed her goblet on the glass end table. “And really, that light fixture is just tacky,” she added. “Hey, that fixture cost $2,400,” Barbara said. “Whatever,’ Roberta conceded. “Okay, let’s get this over with - I had a lunch date with a guy from the website.” Whoops of delight went up among the women. “It was a disaster. I’m done. This time I’m

really done! You know, I have a masseuse for body rubs, my grandchildren for hugging and a stash of Dove bars - and girlfriends to go out with,” emphatically grabbing her wine and punctuating the rant with the glass. “That’s all I need. Oh, and afternoon naps. I can be celibate for the rest of my life.” Dark red wine plopped down her sweatshirt. “Oh, hell! James bought me this sweatshirt at our last Homecoming game together!” Tears spilled down her flushed cheeks. “Here, here, Roberta. I thought you wanted to turn over a new leaf?” Carly commiserated and patted her hand. “Damn it, I’ve turned over a whole friggin’ tree!” Roberta exclaimed, pulling her hand away sharply. “Don’t you think the jokes you use as a defense mechanism are what keep you from getting a man?” Barbara asked. “It’s all about algorithms. Why don’t you let me help you with this, just like I would do if a client wanted a business plan,” Lillian suggested. “I could take a look at your dating profile.” “Now you’re sounding like Stuart. He said my problem was location,” Roberta said. “I’m never one to agree with Stuart, but if his point has to do with online dating search results, he’s right,” Lillian said. “My husband knows nothing about algorithms, I assure you. He wouldn’t know an algorithm from an allegory.” Jenny said. “Neither do I,” Carly piped in. “An algorithm is simply a fancy name for a mathematical equation. They can be intricate and complicated, but it all boils down to search results. If we figure out the market that Roberta’s in, both the competition and the prospects, we can ace this,” Lillian moved to refill Roberta’s goblet. “We don’t have to ace anything. I’ve learned what I don’t want, and that’s the idiots I’ve talked to so far,” Roberta gulped more wine. “Why can’t I just find a normal boyfriend!” “Oh, hon, there’s no such thing,” Jenny tossed a box of tissue. “You haven’t heard about Curtis – Curtis from the Marigny,” Roberta said, pronouncing the name of the New Orleans neighborhood with an exaggerated drawl. “Tell us what happened,” Barbara said, a bit too quickly. “Seems Curtis has a home on Esplanade, one in Palm Beach, one somewhere on Lake Superior – and thought he was superior to someone like me,” Roberta said. 37

“Oh, come on, just because he had multiple homes? Aren’t you being a little sensitive?” Lillian said. “Well, he asked where I went to 'university.' When I said I didn’t go to college, he said ‘oh, really,’ in the most condescending way. And he dropped the amount he’d spent on every car, every house, every boat - the Rolex on his arm cost more than your remodel, Barbara,” Roberta said. “So, he didn’t call back?” Barbara asked. “No, Barbara, he didn’t. I blocked his number, anyway,” Roberta said. “Why? He did pay for the dinner, didn’t he? He might be a good catch,” Barbara said. “Barbara, I can damn well pay for my own dinner. And as far as being a good guy – he said he had a shop in the Quarter in the 70’s selling used blue jeans until the “grubby Dagos” put him out of business. That’s when I left.” “Well, I don’t blame you!” Barbara said, and the others made commiserating exclamations. “Apparently, the magical Internet does not churn out ready-made, perfect matches,” Roberta added. “Girls, I gotta go. I have a date with Colbert at 10:35,” Roberta set her glass down carefully. “Is he a new guy? Good for you! Back on the horse!” Carly said. “Are you even aware it’s 2018, Carly? Yeah, right, I’m seeing Steven Colbert, the host of the Late Show,” Roberta cracked as she stood up. “At least he has a sense of humor.” “Look, I didn’t read this month’s book anyway, that whole Dystopian Apocalyptical Young Adult Fiction thing has gotten old. And the idea of a nuclear event is hitting too close to home these days. I’ll see y’all next month, if the world doesn’t blow itself up. I’ll be in flannel, in my bed, with my remote and an Ambien in 20 minutes,” Roberta said. She headed for the door, then suddenly turned around and looked at her best friends. “Thank you for helping me with all the shit that keeps happening.” “You’re welcome,” Jenny said. “Just remember this shit too shall pass.” -------------------Happily flannelled, listening to the audience laugh at the opening monologue about the current administration, Roberta popped a sleeping pill and then logged on check messages on Selecting Seniors. A creepy note from a guy who called himself “ReadyForAGoddess” offered to fly her to Maui, for “some real island lovin.” “Such a crock of bullshit, she drifted off 38

thinking, nobody’s honest on these sites. Someone should really set things straight.” Roberta vowed to delete her photos and cancel her subscription. Or at least that’s what she intended to do. From the messages in her inbox the next morning, it was obvious she’d done something entirely different. Comments ranged from…“Nice photo, but I don’t want your kind of negatively in my life” to “You obviously have some anger issues, bitch.” Then she looked at her profile, and saw that she’d channeled her own resentment, as well as the Late Show host’s daily tirade, into a new profile description. The leading sentence began… “If you’re misogynic, homophobic, xenophobic or racist, you need not apply!” It got worse from there. Roberta immediately cancelled her account on the dating site, and hit Jenny’s number on her phone. Jenny answered on the first ring and listened attentively as Roberta recounted her story. “Jenny, is there a limit to the number of times you can drop the “F” bomb on a dating site before the Internet police come for you?” Roberta said. “Oh, don’t answer that, I deleted my account anyhow. But tell me this, do I have anger issues?” Roberta realized as soon as she asked what the answer truly was. “Honey, you have plenty of reasons to be angry. The love of your life for 30 years died in your arms on Valentines Day, your wedding anniversary. You’ve been hit hard and come back swinging. That’s a good thing,” Jenny said. “Some negative shit’s happened, that’s all.” “You know, sometimes I walk into a room and look around, wondering if I’d ever find someone to make my heart flutter. Someone I could love and respect like I did my James. I don’t think that kind of man exists ‘in the wild,’ but I thought I was trying.” “They’re out there, the good ones. I promise,” Jenny said. “I really gave it my best. And I do realize that I have a hair trigger response these days to any hint of lack of compassion or entitlement. I think the “Grubby Dago” comment pushed me over the edge,” Roberta said. “The world can break your heart, honey, but it can mend it, too. Forget percentages and profiles. You have to make space in your heart for the next thing,” Jenny replied. “What do you mean, make space?” Roberta said. “Get involved with some activities or organizations you believe in. Who knows

what could happen? At least you'll be among people who are making a difference,” Jenny advised. “Where would you suggest I go to find a man that’s single, appreciates the correct gender and has a compatible world view?” “Maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s not about looking for something or someone. Maybe it’s just about making it about you, and things you believe in,” Jenny said. “And letting go of stuff you’re holding on to. And I mean physical things, as well as emotional ones.” “Hmmm…I know it felt great to go through my clothes and donate to the clothing drive. Like I was helping someone else and myself at the same time,” Roberta said. “I believe some things in our heart, and in our homes, can be placeholders. And when we let go of those things and those feelings, we make room for the next thing,” Jenny said. “Maybe. When did you get all Oprah on me?” Roberta sounded unconvinced. “Hey what happened after I stormed out last night? After y’all stopped talking about me, that is. What’s our next book?” “Would you believe, Handmaid’s Tail? You’re not the only one on edge lately about gender inequities in the world. Carly is hostess, so she got to pick the book,” Jenny said. “She’s going to make red velvet cupcakes. I think she wants us to wear bonnets.” Roberta laughed so suddenly that she snorted. “Oh, good Lord! I’ve read the book – it’s great and totally relevant. I’m proud of Carly for suggesting it, but I’m not wearing a freaking bonnet!” Roberta exclaimed. “Hey, remember when we did 50 Shades of Grey and Lillian showed up in a corset under her suit jacket and gave out handcuffs?” “Yeah, she’s probably got a hidden life, that one.” Jenny was relieved to hear a chuckle from her friend. “Look, I’m sorry but I gotta go - I have to pick up my grands in fifteen, but I wanted to suggest, I think, well, maybe… consider going back to your therapist,” Jenny hesitated. “Just to get perspective.” “Maybe,” Roberta said. “February is right around the corner.” “I know. I’m sorry, girl,” Jenny said. “May I tell you one other piece of sisterhood advice?” “Shoot, can’t be any worse than things I tell myself,” Roberta said. “Your friends do care, you know. We do talk about you, but much nicer than we talk about other people,” Jenny began. Roberta chuckled again. “Anyway, I think you don’t even notice what’s going on around sometimes. I’ve seen you

walk right past guys who are looking at you, ‘in the wild’ as you say, and you don’t even notice them. It’s like you don’t expect good things to happen in the future, because you’re focusing on the past,” Jenny said. “I don’t know,” Roberta said slowly. “Think about it, and call me tonight, okay? Gotta run…I love you, honey,” Jenny said. “Okay, maybe Jenny’s right,” she said out loud as she searched for Dr. Reeves' number. She pictured the calming watercolor prints across from the doctor’s sofa, and slowed her breathing. “Breathe in, breathe out, move on,” she repeated. February had been a challenge for the last five years. Just opening her Google calendar and seeing the number fourteen looming, appropriately printed in red for Valentines Day, was enough to send her to the brink. Her mind instinctively leapt to Valentine’s Day five years ago. She’d taped a Happy Anniversary to my Valentine card to the hospital wall, and held James’ hand for the last time. Roberta hit end on the phone call to Dr. P, and entered the date and time of her appointment. Then she walked about her apartment carefully, seeing things she’d barely noticed for a long time. A box of clothes in the spare bedroom labeled JAMES, propped on top of his old Army trunk. A silver framed wedding picture on the mantle. Her mother’s crocheted throw on the shabby sofa that James’ had picked out over ten years ago. Her children’s highchair in a corner of the kitchen, now holding a plant that looked like it wouldn’t make it to next week. Why had she ever put that plant on the seat of the high chair? Some Pinterest inspiration! As she crossed the room to the highchair, she clearly saw every memory forever etched in her heart – Little James using a baby spoon to draw patterns of applesauce on the tray… his chubby-cheeked sister, Jennifer, picking up Cheerios one at a time with deliberate fingers. What a shame, she thought, that this highchair is now as sad as the plant she’d neglected. What a shame it's been reduced to a placeholder for a dying fern. She slowly looked over her apartment, and her life, with fresh eyes. “Give things a new life, and make way for the next thing,” she said aloud. She heard an almost audible sound, like a kaleidoscope pattern falling into place. Roberta tossed the sad plant into the trash and pulled out a spray bottle of cleaner. Carefully,

for the last time, she cleaned every inch of her children’s high chair. Then she carried it to her car and drove to the nearest shelter. -------------------By February 13th, Roberta’s apartment barely resembled the same cluttered, dreary place. With her Badass friends’ help, the space reflected new life and change. Thanks to Carly, the baggy black clothes in Roberta’s wardroom had been weeded down to only the most basic pieces, the drab blouses and sweatshirts replaced with emerald greens and rich reds. Barbara’s touch had worked wonders on the furnishings, too. The Habitat resale shop was happy to receive several items and together Barbara and Roberta replaced them with sleek and contemporary pieces. Even Stuart had helped her pick out a brand new red Acura and sold her old car online. Most important to Roberta was that her friends had been respectful with the purge that created new look. Lillian took digital pictures of items that held sentimental value and printed a keepsake book, which helped Roberta donate many items and still treasure the memories they held. The Army trunk had been lovingly painted with black enamel and topped with glass. Under the glass, photos of family vacations were strewn among photos of places Roberta wanted to visit. Centered neatly among these past and future pictures was a single black and white photo of a long-ago February wedding. The next step would be a move to a small house Jenny found near Olde Town, close enough to walk to restaurants and shops. With her pared down belongings, the move would be a cinch once the act of sale went through in March. -------------------The brown haired woman who parked her new red Acura in front of the soda shop at 11:30 am on February 14th wore well-fitted blue jeans and stylish black boots. A fringed leather shawl draped across her red sweater, and her hair was cut into an asymmetrical wedge. Roberta walked into the cafe with a big smile, and greeted each of her friends with a loving hug. Within minutes, ice cream sodas and cheeseburgers arrived at the table. Even Barbara ordered a burger, without the bun of course, instead of her usual salad. “Thank y’all so much for meeting me today for lunch. I know you have Valentine’s plans tonight with your husbands,” Roberta said. “But I really wanted to share something with you.”

“Anytime, honey. What’s up?” asked Barbara. “Well, tonight I’m going to a bonfire at my friend Andrew’s place,” Roberta began. “Andrew! Who’s Andrew?!” four women exclaimed in unison. “He’s part of a meet-up group I joined recently…. It’s called Singles with a Cause. We get together to help get out the vote, and a couple of us go out to dinner sometimes.” “Oh, really? A couple, eh?” Lillian teased. “No, no, it’s not like that! Well, not yet…. anyway, we’re having an Anti-Valentine’s Day bonfire party tonight at Andrew’s,” Roberta replied. “Anti-Valentine’s Day? That sounds kinda sad to me,” Carly said. “Why don’t y’all come out with me and David to the Chateau? They’re having a wine pairing and…” “No, thank you. And it’s not sad at all. I’m the one who actually organized the party,” Roberta said. “And everyone at the bonfire will be joining me in a little ceremony …about making room for the good things in our lives.” “Tell us more, this sounds great,” Lillian said. “First, I want you to do me a favor,” Roberta said. She passed out small sheets of paper and pencils to each woman. “February holds both my happiest memories of James as well as the saddest. I want to live in the happy ones. So, would you please write a note… just a few words… about a happy memory you have of James? I’m going to read them alone before the bonfire, and then offer them up in the fire tonight.” Tears glistened in the eyes of her friends, as they sat quietly and wrote notes, then folded and returned the papers to Roberta. “You gonna tell us about Andrew?” Jenny asked. “Really, he’s just a nice guy with a yard being enough to hold a bonfire. That’s plenty enough for now,” Roberta said. “Most of the people in the group have been through a divorce, or widowed, and everybody is in a good place to start over, and do some good in the meantime. I figured this little ceremony is a good way to make some new memories.” “We are all so proud of you,” Jenny said. “And yes, we’ve been talking about you again, but in a good way.” “Thank you, and I’ve been talking about you, too, to the Meet-up group. In a good way.” She raised her ice cream soda glass to the others for a toast. “To the most Badass women I know,” Roberta said. “To Valentine’s Day - and to making memories!” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Sponsored By:

by Jeff Perret, DVM

Congestive Heart Failure (CHF) It was like one of those Robitussin commercials where the wife can’t sleep because the husband is coughing, coughing, coughing. Except in this case, the coughing culprit was not the husband, but Beyoncé, a 10-year-old Bichon Frisé. The effect, however, was the same: Beyoncé’s parents could not get a peaceful night’s sleep. Eventually, dog-tired (pun intended), they brought the little diva in for an exam. The first thing that jumped at me was the heart murmur, something that had not been heard previously, according to the medical record. Touch the windpipe, though, and she coughed like a trained seal barking. “A bit ticklish of the throat, it seems,” I commented. Now, in many cases, coughing is a sign of congestive heart failure (CHF) – a buildup of fluid in the lungs resulting from improper function of the left side of the heart. With the loud murmur, the first tendency is to want to

jump to that conclusion. Many veterinarians use this “math” to get to the answer: Murmur + cough = congestive heart failure. But this equation has a flaw. Many older dogs cough, for many possible reasons. And many older dogs have murmurs, usually (in smaller breeds) because of a leaky mitral valve, the valve that separates the two chambers on the left side of the heart. When this valve leaks badly enough, fluid builds up in the lungs, causing shortness of breath and, often, coughing – and this fluid in the lungs constitutes CHF. However, if the leak is small, and there is no fluid in the lungs as yet, then the coughing is unrelated to the heart disease, and only coincidental. And the therapies for different causes of coughing can differ. So how can we tell why the dog is coughing? Many veterinarians use a more sophisticated “math” to help them: Murmur + cough + big heart on chest X-rays = congestive heart failure.

Dr. Jeff recommends using:




But even this equation is flawed because evaluating heart size and presence of fluid in the lungs from radiographs can be difficult. Even board certified veterinary cardiologists struggle with this on occasion. Unlike people, dogs’ chests are all different shapes and sizes: deep-and-narrow (like in a Dobermann), shallow-and-wide (like a Bull Dog), or anywhere in between. There’s no consistency. You have to learn all the variations for all the different breeds and types and try to figure out what the true heart size is for each of these. The services of a board-certified veterinary radiologist can be quite useful in these cases. On top of that, there is the issue of breathing. When we human animals go in for a chest X-ray, the radiographer gets us into position, makes us take a deep breath, and tells us to hold it. However, when Beyoncé is placed onto the table to get an X-ray, she squirms, wriggles, and pants. Consequently, despite our best

efforts, the films may be taken when she has deflated her lungs (breathed out), making everything in her chest look whiter, less inflated and airy, and harder to diagnose. So the math gets even more complicated: Murmur + cough + big heart on chest X-rays + maybe fluid on the x-rays + cough clears up with Lasix = congestive heart failure.


Chicken Gumbo!

That sounds pretty solid! If I give a drug for heart failure (Lasix, or the “water pill” many of us have heard of) and the cough resolves, it must be heart failure, right?

A new product that feeds all stages of chicken and ducks.

Not so fast, Sherlock! Unfortunately, furosemide (Lasix) can also act on the airways, causing them to widen, and also on the nerves of the larynx, causing a cough from any cause to be suppressed or reduced. Therefore, we can’t use “coughing got better with Lasix” as proof that our diagnosis of CHF was correct! So, what's the right equation? What's the correct “math”? Well, while using a stethoscope to diagnose a heart murmur, your veterinarian will also be listening to the lung sounds at the same time. Fluid in the lungs resulting from CHF, especially if it’s severe, makes tell-tale sounds called “crackles.” Sometimes the crackles are clear as day, when CHF is advanced and obvious. But in early, more subtle cases, the crackles can be elusive. Crackles can also be heard with other types of respiratory disease, so they don’t always indicate CHF. Make no mistake: the veterinarian’s exam, heart and lung sounds, x-ray images, and presence or absence of a cough, are all crucial bits of information in diagnosing CHF. But it would be nice if there were something that a pet-owner could watch for at home to give an early indication that a patient may be transitioning from compensated mitral valve disease into CHF. And actually, fortunately, there is! As a little dog with mitral valve disease progresses into congestive heart failure, the lungs start to fill up with a bit of fluid. This makes it a little harder to breathe. And so the breathing rate increases. At some point, the fluid buildup is severe enough that the breathing rate is high and the dog is short of breath at rest. We can measure the breathing rate at rest, or better yet, when Beyoncé is sleeping. If the breathing rate in the vet hospital is normal (less than 30), the probability of congestive heart failure is really, really low. Of course, Beyoncé panted the whole time she was in the hospital because of anxiety – she is such a drama queen! Since there was no history of her having breathing difficulty at home, her parents were instructed to monitor her sleeping respiratory rate. Again, the magic number is 30 breaths/minute. It’s even better if we can get a nice baseline over several days to know what “normal” is for a specific patient. It’s easy to do. Your vet can teach you if need be. So, with no signs of CHF on her chest x-rays, and no crackles heard in her lungs, Beyoncé and her parents went home, and after the weekend, reported back that the sleeping respiratory rate was only 18 breaths per minute, well below the 30 that would cause us concern. Not only was the cough not due to congestive heart failure, but we had a nice baseline to refer back to when making future decisions. Her treatment was directed at her respiratory disease, and the cough resolved. And her owners could continue to monitor the sleeping respiratory rate once or twice a week to see if, at some point in the future, their little princess develops actual CHF. In the meantime, everyone slept much better.



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Crimi-Mommly INSANE tes Leslie Ga y b y r o t S n McGover c a Z y b n Illustratio

“What’s hiding in YOUR drawer?” The second half of my life is here. Just turned the big 4-0. There are so many topics I could talk about now because of my new, wise, old age and all, but think I will narrow it down to just two: Marital passion and underwear. This question was posed to me recently: “Ya ever go through your underwear and think, what the hell is wrong with me? Like, do other women wear underwear in this condition? Why have I not thrown these away?” Since I just turned 40 and will be married 16 years in April, I feel that I may have enough wisdom on the subject to find a good answer to this puzzling question. I certainly remember the days of sexy see-thru panties with matching push-up bras, that only had a single clasp. And not just one set for that special occasion, but a drawer filled with them.


In your 20’s, it’s actually an important part of the morning routine. Looking sexy underneath your sexy. Picking out the right bra and panties. Wearing a white low-cut shirt? Find a low-cut nude bra. Tight hipster pants? Dig through your drawer for one of the many new hipster panties you own. “New” meaning less than a year old, of course. And not only because it complimented the outfit you were wearing, or that you cared more about appearance then, although true, but because you never knew when a passionate moment might present itself. For marriage in my 20’s, it seemed that if I looked good, smelled pretty, cooked something, was a good lover, all with little nagging or neediness, I was doing it all right. If it was up to a man, that would probably be the right thing to do every day for the rest of his life. And for a woman, married in her 20’s, it’s hard to imagine why you wouldn’t be able to do that forever. At least that is how I felt. The groove of things seems to work easily when you are just

brushing the surface of a life together. Nothing feels as important as making the person you fell in love with happy, comfortable, and extremely attracted to you. It feels good to be noticed for those things. Needed. It was part of my job to impress him outwardly, and I wanted to. It’s kinda the love language at this stage. Uncomplicated and clueless. There is a lot more passion in the early years of marriage, and so you are better at the details, and want to be good at being a wife. Now that I think about it, HE bought most of my underwear, picked them out himself, AND couldn’t wait to see me in them! I would have been embarrassed in anything less than that. If he walked into the house back then and my present, 40-year-old self was standing there in current bra and panties, he probably would have run. As your 20’s come to an end, you realize, hey, guys have a job too damnit! It just takes them a little longer to figure out what it is. Usually, by the time they do,

we have already started to care about more important things, one of them NOT being what is in our drawer. If they want perfection, they need to give perfection. If not, then let’s move past it already. That’s when the 30’s come. Thirties are your decade of painful growth. I don’t mean physically, although… YES. But mainly, inwardly. Finding who you are BENEATH the surface of sexy lace undergarments. Settling for a comfortable cotton version of sexy, and not bothering to color coordinate. It’s also a scary test of love. It sounds stupid and makes Brian sound very superficial, but for me, I didn’t want to feel like sexy was all I was to him. In my early 30's was when I knew he HAD to love me. For real. Because of things like the black yoga pants that I wore ALL THE TIME. Although, they went missing and I found out 10 years later that he had thrown them away. Luckily by then, I was able to laugh it off and tell him what had REALLY happened to his duck print shirt.

Impressing my husband during the odd, baby raising passionate moments of my early 30’s was more about if I had the energy after dealing with the kids, if he listened to me complain about my day, or if he helped me around the house… NOT if I had the right panties on. All of them were pretty much still intact and presentable, but there were more pressing issues in life to tend to, and if he wanted some passion, he had to look a little deeper. I'd still try to look and smell pretty, most days, but that didn't mean it wasn't in the same outfit from the day before, covered over with a spray of perfume. The “shysol” days of sexy. Cause you know Lysol never covers the smell completely, but it’ll work enough.

my panties aren’t cute. In your late 30’s, you are still wearing the underwear from your early 30’s, if you can even find a clean pair. BUT, you are alive. And so are the kids. WIN! You can contribute most of this accomplishment to lots of coffee, and the nightly consumption of wine. Oh, and friends. Or, even better, wine WITH friends. But underwear, psssht, whatever. Just pour me another glass please.

I wanted to at least appear somewhat together on the outside, but I knew good and well, inside was a deep need to be accepted for the messy side of myself too. The one that said, I am imperfect, my legs are hairy, I smell, there are issues from my past, and I don’t want to be sexy today. And it's not because

The passion starts to dwindle during the time of making uncomfortable truths in each other, somehow, comfortable. When the hidden issues within ourselves and our past are exposed in an ugly light and we wonder if we will still be loved the same. Just like the ugly granny panties

If you made it through the latest life crisis, haven’t checked into an institution, and are still here, ordering pizza for too many dinners, then you are absolutely amazing at life! Can I get a whoop whoop! Oh, and another glass of wine please. Thanks.


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hiding in our top drawer. You either choose to close it back up and hide them longer, feeling shameful, or expose them in the form of everything that you are, holes and all. We can make ourselves new again when we heal ourselves from the unraveled threads caused by wear and tear. It probably helps the passion along in a relationship when we aren’t wearing those ugly things, but if that’s all someone is looking for, then it’s a definite way to kill the real, long lasting kind of passion. Especially at my age, when I know for certain that my beauty runs much deeper, and care more about being noticed FOR THAT. The beauty that lies underneath the superficial parts is much more attractive once you know what is really important. When there is nothing to hide anymore, and you can be completely vulnerable, that is when true passion begins. It comes from a place of acceptance, comfort, and happiness with one another. Like I said before, “nothing feels as important as making the person you fell in love with, happy, comfortable, and extremely attracted to you.” That's how it was in my 20's. The attraction just appears in a different form later down the road. Now that I am 40, and wanting to start fresh, maybe I WILL get a new wardrobe of underwear. It won’t look as good as it used to in my 20’s, actually, I think it will look better. That happens when we start to love ourselves more, accepting every hidden part that we have stuffed away in some emotional drawer. Also, when we accept it in the person we love. This goes for anyone we love too. Family and friends included (although, you might want to refrain from any deep discussions about their underwear).


So, to answer the question that was posed -- there is nothing wrong with you. Nothing wrong with what is in that drawer. Some of it needs to be thrown out, yes. But, it’s OK to keep the ones that aren’t painfully ugly, just worn down a little over time, enough to make us happy and bring us comfort. Truth be told, they really are the best ones.

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Boots on the Ground: the cajun army

Story and photos by Donna Bush

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


The term “boots on the ground” typically means active duty soldiers or infantry present during an operation. I associate infantry with the army. Per, “The infantry is the main land combat force and backbone of the Army.” We have our very own version of army infantry among us. We know it as "The Cajun Army," formed during the Baton Rouge flooding of 2016 by Chris King, Nicholas Loupe and Joshua Loupe, out of a need to rescue close friends who were flooding. Because of this, their first effort was as a "Cajun Navy" operation to save their friends. None of the guys owned a boat but all had grown up around them. They borrowed a 12-foot flat bottom boat and a 16-foot gator hunting boat with pro-drive motor. With guns strapped on their hips, they traversed the Amite River from Port Vincent to Denham Springs against the current in flood conditions. Their mission was to rescue 4 adults, 2 teenagers, 2 elderly adults, 2 toddlers, 3 dogs and several bags of prized possessions. With over 2 ½ feet of

water already in their home, flood waters still rising and roads impassable, their friends were isolated. Through the guys’ faith that a higher power was watching over them and would get them all back to safety, they embarked on their mission, with several close calls, almost capsizing the large boat on multiple occasions as the swift current slammed them into trees. It took them over 11 hours to make the trip and return to Chris’ house in Prairieville. All were exhausted, wet, cold and hungry. Once everyone was secured, Chris and the Loupe brothers sat down to reflect on what had occurred. Chris told me, “After a massive flood, the greatest need is gutting homes. We created The Cajun Army as a 'boots on the ground' connection point for those needing help and those desiring to help.” Cajun Army started as a Facebook page shared with 100 friends. Within two weeks, there were over 5000 members. The Cajun Army’s mission statement says it all. “To connect the needs of the community with those willing to serve and provide a trusted

A CONTINUING COVERAGE SERIES FROM DONNA BUSH PART 4 OF 12 place where information can be shared and acquired.” Chris shared, “We were confident that people would want to help and they did. We have volunteers from practically every state. We just gave them a way to connect.” The majority of their volunteers are unskilled in home rebuilding, although occasionally they receive skilled building volunteers and those are utilized for the most critical needs. Mucking and gutting are not highly skilled chores. The most critical expertise is knowing how high above the water line to cut out the sheetrock. Other skills needed: ability to push a broom, sling a sledgehammer, drive a wheelbarrow and operate a shovel. This group is well organized with teams for each function. The Needs Team’s job is to call, counsel, and be an ear for the flood victims. They listen, take in the details of the residents' needs and even shed a few tears with them. Their function is to understand the need and prioritize when they can be scheduled to receive assistance. Operational Team Leaders handle the physical coordination of volunteers and projects. Other teams consist of Supplies, Food, Housing and Communications. They cover all of the basic needs of any mission: food, housing and work. The Cajun Army frequently partners with churches, which offer food for the volunteers and the homeowners, plus housing for volunteers. When I visited The Cajun Army in Texas, they were partnering with Oak Meadows Community Worship Center in south Houston, which acted as a base for coordination of Cajun Army volunteers gutting homes, a supply point for flooded residents, meal source and information depot. Church members were joined by both flooded and non-flooded residents, unloading,

organizing and distributing supplies and meals to those in need. Also onsite were the Friends of Family Relief Effort (FFRE), cooking and providing 1000+ meals per day. On any given day, there was a 3-mile line of vehicles driving through to pick up cleaning supplies, meals and necessities. Tiana Ingram, a FFRE volunteer, shared her thoughts with me, “I am amazed and proud when I see friendly, giving, truly empathetic friends like those we have met here at Oak Meadow Community Worship Center. They are not only giving every ounce of their own blood, sweat, and tears to help their countrymen, they are setting an example and opening the door for anyone who feels called to help." She continued, "The worship center was transformed into a high output supply station with volunteers working from sun up to late into the night. Volunteers from all over the country left their homes, families and jobs to help. The Cajun Army is gutting homes, risking their lives going into mold-damaged homes where they could be seriously injured, even killed.” Today this 19,000+ member non-profit with representatives from almost every state has provided assistance in Louisiana, Texas, South Carolina, and North Carolina with flooding, assistance in Georgia after a swath of tornadoes hit, and assistance in Tennessee after wildfires scorched the area. Operations are ongoing in Texas and Louisiana. The Cajun Army is a strictly volunteer organization never soliciting money. They will accept donations and have a link on their website,, to an Amazon Wishlist for each of their current operations. Chris shared, “Our biggest function is giving people hope at a time when they don’t have any, helping to relieve the burden. We are not a religious organization but we are founded on Christian beliefs. Jesus taught us ‘to love the Lord, your God, with all your heart and to love your neighbor as yourself.’ We are just trying to love one another and encourage others to do the same. Ironically, sometimes the people that are the most touched are not those we are serving, but those that are serving.”

This picture and the text below are from a facebook post, found while researching The Cajun Army: This is BG Smith. He is awesome. This is just one of the houses he helped clean up. Totally volunteer, no pay just straight from the heart. He's with the Bugout Military and collaborating with the Cajun Army and Cajun Navy. They arrive, gut the house and then move on to the next one. Where do these angels come from? We gathered in the backyard and did a group listen - where they took a break to share their pain and joy of this work they are doing. Tears and laughter. And these are men who do not cry. We gave them space to process the pain they have seen and the pure joy it brings them to help their fellow human in such a profound way. Because, as they said, this is someone's home. Where important events took place, where some of the most important memories live. And these volunteers leave their jobs and families to come and provide hope, where there was none before. And the sensitivity they have....Dale brought me to the driveway to show me some remaining last pages of the homeowners family photo album... strewn across the driveway, too charred to save. This is someone's life and he wanted to acknowledge it. Oh man, I'm tearing up just writing about this. All is not lost my friends, because we have the BG's of this world showing up. In such a big way. I'm writing this fast so I can document this experience - I am transformed by just this one encounter - so apologies for typos and grammer. Just so much more important stuff going on here. More to come.


Portraits of Slidell Story and Photos by William Blackwell

DR. OUTLAW There are still some history surprises in Olde Towne that have remained hidden away, however recently discovered documents tell us the origins of the house located at 153 Robert Street. The renovated and enlarged structure is now home to the Cafe’ Luke Dinner Theater and we’re happy to say that its pedigree was fully recorded in local news articles beginning in 1908. It was

William Blackwell is a native of Slidell. "Once I began studying photography, it seemed to me that some of those wonderful buildings in Olde Towne should be photographed to capture and preserve their memory, beauty, and antiquity for future generations." See his Slidell shots and more on his facebook page: FieldofViewPhotography


all there… the story, the owner, the family, the building contractor, the time sequence and the neighbors. With a little help from the land records office and one early Sanborn map, a clear picture emerges. The home owners and original builders of that beautiful home were Dr. Phau Rivers Outlaw and his wife Alice Motor (known as Allie), who arrived in Slidell

during the summer of 1908. The 38 year old Dr. Outlaw had been assigned as the new emergency man and surgeon for both the New Orleans Great Northern and NO & NE Railroads for this end of the line. Once here, the doctor quickly purchased two large lots on Robert Street and opened a small office just down the block to the east. In September of that year, he hired a contractor by the name of H. L. Moore to construct a new home midway between his medical office and his neighbor to the west, Mrs. C. R. Schmidt. Her 2-story millinery store sat adjacent to Dr. Outlaw's property on the corner at Ciruti Street. Dr. Outlaw and Allie had married in 1904 and were the parents of two small children, Drew and Alice. It was an active and happy household during the eight years of the family’s residence, with many a birthday party


being celebrated through the years. At the time, there was ample outdoor space where the children could play since the property extended all the way back to Brakefield Street. In fact, news articles indicate that the doctor also kept livestock on the property, even adding a small donkey to the mix in October 1909. That same month, the doctor’s new Maxwell Motor car arrived and took its rightful place in front of his home. It was needed to make medical calls and to attend monthly meetings of the Parish Medical Society.

arrived in Slidell, he and his friend Ben Houghton shared the cost of a new “gasoline powered motor boat” which they frequently took out on Bayou Bonfouca. In 1916, Doctor Outlaw made a career change and relocated to El Paso, Texas. Records indicate that his home and property on Robert Street were then transferred to C. S. Hill, the director of the Commercial National Bank in El Paso as part of a new financial arrangement in that city. Dr. Outlaw maintained an active practice and served as the City Health Officer in El Paso until his death in 1937.

Sept 2016

He and Allie were active in many social and professional organizations in Slidell. They frequently entertained friends like Dr. J. F. Polk and associates from the Knights of Pythias, of which he was an active member.

Here’s hoping for a renewed appreciation for this home’s origins when we visit for a meal or entertainment at Cafe’ Luke. Dr. Outlaw would be pleased.


Having beenCHECK born and raised in PLEASE YOUR Mississippi, Dr. Outlaw also enjoyed AD CAREFULLY FOR the great outdoors. Not long after he


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Slidell Magazine was EVERYWHERE this month! Here are just a few of our adventures!

YMCA!! IT’S FUN TO STA Y AT TH E YMCA-A!! Slidell Mag writer, Ro se Marie Sand, joins the fun at Cutting Edge Thea ter’s “That 70’s Show ” Hail King Samaritan LXVIII reigns Slidell Police Chief Randy Fandal with Ball s llian Slide of e over the Krew his beautiful wife Dania. Dilly Dilly!

The Goofball Gang: Kendra, Dawn Rivera, Lee Williams having a ball at the ball. You can and Susan Williams dress them up but.....

Bernie Friel We are such groupies! Bobby Ohler to en list ra nd Ke d an latest gig wow the crowd at his

ALL ABOARD! The talented & beautiful Slidell Women’s Civic Club dancers, led by Miss Rosemary Clement

Inner Wheel USA Foundation Walk Saturday, February 24, 9am John Slidell Park Slidell, LA Participants are asked to get sponsor pledges of $10 for the mile. Supports Inner Wheel, USA Foundation which provides myoelectric prosthesis limbs to children

For more information on the walk, please contact:

Jane Freeman 985-640-6786

visit: to help Inner Wheel “Give a Child a Hand”

MisChief Mardi Gras Reveler


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


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Slidell Magazine- 91st Edition  
Slidell Magazine- 91st Edition