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from the editorIwas a painfully shy child. I was the kind of kid that would hide behind her Momma’s legs. Those that knew me as a child cannot believe that I actually out-grew my shyness. But I did. My Uncle Sam helped me to become the strong, confident woman that I am today. When I joined the Active Duty Air Force in January of 1998, my friends and family were afraid that I wasn’t “tough” enough to make it through basic training. Boy were they wrong. What they didn’t understand was that by the time I left for the US Air Force, I had al-ready come to realize that I NEEDED to serve the na-tion that had given me so very much. I proudly wore the starched uniform and laced up my polished combat boots. And years later, as a Veteran, I still feel that it is my responsibility to stand up and fight for my country. It is my duty as an American citizen to urge our society to move forward. That’s exactly what I have done in this issue, and you can rest assured that I’m going to keep on doing it for the rest of my career. There is a terrible plague in this country right now. We have forgotten our roots. We have almost lost the strong backbone of leadership that makes this country special. We have become terrified of standing up for what we believe in. And now we’re all quietly asking the great question: WHERE ARE OUR LEADERS? The answer to this question is simple: we need to stop WAITING for leaders and start BECOMING them. This issue is devoted to finding our hidden leaders in north-ern Louisiana. Stand up and be counted. Clean up the dirty world of local politics. Run for your local school board and help to save our children. Demand that local leaders stand up and fight for our best interest. Read the feature article in this issue about the 100th Monkey Movement and join it today. We each have the potential to make a difference in our world. So go ahead-- be a leader. I dare you to dare you to make adifference in yourcommunity. And when you do,tell them thatI sent you.

Jacquelyn Lewis

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This magazine is FREE! However, you can have it mailed to you for $20 a year to cover postage & handling. Call us at 318.382.1900 and we’ll put you on our mailing list!

Donna ArenderChris BroussardVicki CaskeyElizabeth DrewettAnita GoodsonWinnie GriggsWesley Harris

Our beautiful cover model for this issue is Jennifer Towns, a loyal reader of The Minute

Magazine. The photo was tak-en by Kerry Easley of Easley’s

Main Street Photography in Minden, LA. Jennifer’s make-up is by Kayce McDuffie from

Couture Cosmetics.

12 Blueprint for Preservation by Megan Lord

15 The Journey by Jason McReynolds

18 The 100th Monkey Movement by Jackie Lewis

20 Beware: Art Enlightens by Chris Broussard

24 A Novel Approach by Winnie Griggs

27 White Elephant by Galen White

30 Weeder’s Digest by Anita Goodson

32 Frugal Friend by Elizabeth Simpson Pickett

36 Louisiana Girl Revelations by April Warford Timmons

39 Antique Junkie by Donna Arender

41 PJ’s Point of View by Phillip Volentine

42 Roller Derby on the River by Michele McCrary

50 What Tomorrow Holds by Laura Horton

52 Simply Cooking by Melissa Teoulet

54 On the Spectrum by Lela Robichaux

58 On Patrol with Bob Hope by Wesley Harris

issueinside this

The Minute Magazine is distributed throughout Caddo, Bossier, Claiborne,

Bienville, DeSoto, Ouachita, Red River, Natchitoches, Webster, Lincoln & Orleans

Parishes in Louisiana. They are FREE for you to enjoy. Take a few to your friends, relatives or anyone else that you think might

need a refreshing, enlightening “minute.” For a list of locations near you, viwit

www.theminutemag.com today!

JACKIE LEWIS & TIFFANY BYRAMOwners/PublishersRegional Editors Graphics/Layout

VICKI CASKEYSales Manager

GLORIA HAYNIEAccount Representative

SHAUN LEWISAccounting

JENNY REYNOLDSFounder

Circulation & Distribution:James “Shay” Callen

Contact Information:Office Phone: 318.382.1900Ad Sales: 318.548.2693512 Fort AvenueMinden, Louisiana, 71055

Copyright 2011. All rights reserved. No part of this magazine may be copied or reproduced without permission. The Minute Magazine cannot be responsible for unsolicited materials. The editorial content of The Minute is prepared in accor-dance with the highest standards of journalistic accuracy. Readers are cautioned, however, not to use any information from the magazine as a substitute for expert opinion, technical information or advice. The Minute cannot be responsible for negligent acts, errors and omissions. The opinions expressed in The Minute are those of our writers and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher. The publisher has the right to accept or reject any advertising and / or editorial submitted.

contributorsLaura HortonMichelle JohnsonJackie LewisMegan LordKy MasonMichelle McCraryJason McReynolds

Elizabeth S. PickettLela RobichauxMelissa TeouletApril W. TimmonsMargaret TimmonsPhillip J. VolentineGalen White

cover

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====================

PLEASE PASS THE PEAS

====================

Do you remember the old spiritual song, “No-body knows the trouble I’ve

seen. Nobody knows but Jesus?” Well, I can prom-ise you it was written either while picking or shelling peas. If they hadn’t already written it, I’m sure one of us kids would have! Seems like we had forty-eleven-dozen rows of those purple hull peas that stretched for miles in tangles spider webs of vines. The peas grew just far enough off the ground to make us have to stoop over in a

back-breaking stance and stay that way until our eyes bugged out of their sockets. Of course, one of our Dad’s requirements was that the peas had to be just a certain shade of purple before we were allowed to pick them. And any pea left unpicked would tell on us a couple of days later by turning into a black, dried up stick. Add to this misery, it seemed that the peas never ripened until the hot Louisiana sun reached the broiling tem-perature of 110 degrees and the humidity was 150%.

Of course, after growing all of those peas, we needed something to gather them in. Folks, back then, there was no such thing as plastic dish pans, big paper grocery sacks, or Wal-Mart plastic re-cyclable bags. Even if there had been, we couldn’t afford such things. We made do with what we had and that was to use the skirts of our dresses. We would draw the hem of our dress up into a basket-like fashion and hold it together with one hand while we picked with the other hand. We would pick until our dress skirt was full and then walk back to the end of the row and deposit the picked peas in a number three washtub. After what seemed like forever, the ones who had finished picking their rows of peas headed for the living room at our house to ‘rest’. Mama would get ready for our time of ‘rest’ by

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putting several wash tubs in the floor of the living room. These would be for us to use for the empty pea hulls. We would shell the peas into Mama’s big boilers or bowls. At first, we carefully aimed at the wash tubs with our pea hulls. After a few hours or so, our twelve by twenty liv-ing room floor could be seen no longer. It would be cov-ered, instead, by a lush car-pet of empty purple hulls. I remember once, daddy disappeared to the wash house, mumbling something about a ‘pea sheller’. Were we hearing right? Could there possibly be such a wonderful inven-tion? Well, if it were possi-ble, our Daddy could make one! We could hardly wait for his return. After what seemed like forever, Daddy came back with a huge grin on his face. Mission accom-plished, or so we thought. He handed us a small block of wood about one inch thick and two inches square. In the center of it was a hole just big enough for a pea to pass through. Down through the top of the square piece of wood, and coming into the edge of the hole in the center, was a sharp-edged wood screw. As we ran the pea through the hole, much like threading a needle, and pulled it out the other side, the sharp tip of the wooden screw would split the pea hull open. All we then had to do was open the shell and scrape out the now split peas into our bowls. But wouldn’t it be simpler to just do the peas the way we were doing and not run the risk of splitting the tender peas along with the shell? Well, that’s not exactly what our McGough Mama said. She said, “Boshaw!” We didn’t really know what that word meant but we all heard her say it. We think it must have been an Irish term for, “a waste of time!” Needless to say, poor Daddy’s invention went deep into the clutter drawer, never to be retrieved again.Just in case our story has sparked the interest of someone, and you want to

try your hand at rais-ing and shelling purple hull peas, you should think about building one of Daddy’s auto-matic pea shellers. I hope you have better luck with it than us! If it doesn’t work for you either, I suggest you head for the near-est supermarket and buy some delicious, frozen, already har-vested, shelled, ready to take home and fix, purple hull peas. Thank goodness for modern technology!

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-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Calling all Questions! Have a question about preservation or old house repairs? Send me an

email at minutemagazine@gmail.com. Each month Megan will feature a

brief Q&A with real-world problems and practical solutions appropriate

for your old house.

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The Painted House

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Were you inspired by my previous article to tackle that long-awaited paint job? Or perhaps at least to consider it? Last issue, we discussed the importance of using the appropriate paint type for the historic materials on your house. This month we’ll continue our discussion on paint. I’ll attempt to inspire you to action as I show you how to get the most out of your investment in a new paint job.

In order to avoid the cost and labor that painting requires, many homeowners choose to install vinyl or aluminum siding. These treatments claim to be maintenance-free, but a glance across the street proves that vinyl siding will surely fade and aluminum is prone to dents and even rusting! To make matters worse, vinyl and aluminum siding are not easily repaired. A large area must be removed to make even a tiny repair, and many times colors are hard to match. What promised to be a one-time, maintenance-free treatment usually turns out to be a poor investment that detracts from the character of a historic home. Painting the original wood siding on your historic house not only retains your home’s character, but is often the most affordable, easiest-to-maintain, and longest lasting option when you follow the these tips:

Preparation:Proper preparation of the

wood siding will ensure smooth and excellent paint adhesion and provide a long-lasting finish. Before picking up a paint brush, walk around your home and inspect all wood siding and details. Find and eliminate the source of any moisture damage. Remove and replace damaged sections of siding. Be sure to research past paint jobs and choose a paint type that is compatible with previous layers. (See last month’s column for a paint-type recap.)

Remove Old Paint:It is not necessary to remove paint down to the bare wood before repainting. However, make sure that you sand or scrape any flaking, peeling, uneven layers down to a relatively smooth and even surface. Avoid high-pressure washing or sandblasting as this can damage wood and prohibit its ability to hold primer and paint. When using a paint scraper, take care

not to gouge the surface. Follow your sanding efforts with a gentle cleansing to remove dust and grime. A solution of ½ cup TSP to 1 gallon water wiped over the surface will do the job. Rinse the area with a hose and allow to air dry. Always avoid harsh chemicals that can cause paint failure. Caulk only the gaps in vertical joints.

Prime and Paint:It’s finally time to get out your paintbrush! If you are painting bare wood siding or previously painted siding that has been sanded well with little remaining old paint, choose an oil-based primer. This will soak into the wood fibers and provide a longer lasting finish. If the previous paint job was in fairly good shape and did not require complete removal, make sure you know the type of paint you will be covering. Remember the weaker over stronger rule, and never apply oil-based paint or primer (stronger) over existing latex (weaker). Don’t rush as you prime and paint, tackling one side of your house at time. Painting is a tedious process, so make sure you monitor your daily progress to keep up your morale!

A well-prepped and primed paint job should last a good ten years. You can extend the life of your paint job by following these additional spot paint maintenance tips:

Purchase 1-2 •additional gallons of primer and paint for yearly touch-ups.Assess paint •c o n d i t i o n s annually. Use chalk to outline areas of failing paint. Address them immediately by sanding, priming and repainting using the extra paint you purchased at the time of your initial paint job.Paint during the •

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Megan Lord holds

an M.F.A in His-

toric Preservation

and is finalizing

an M.A. in Archi-

tectural History

fromå the Savannah

College of Art and

Design. She lives

and works in Alex-

andria, LA.

proper weather conditions. Both oil and latex paint will adhere best when the temperature is between 50 – 70 degrees Fahrenheit.Make sure wood •siding is dry prior to painting.Paint unfinished •wood within three weeks to maintain proper adhesion. If unfinished wood has been exposed to sunlight longer than three weeks, lightly sand the surface to remove degraded wood before painting.If your house was •built prior to 1978, it likely contains lead paint. Buy a lead paint test kit at your local hardware store or have a professional test performed. Lead paint is poisonous when ingested, so if you plan to

remove it yourself, follow proper lead paint precautions. Better yet, call a professional to handle the removal.

A new paint job can give new life to your old house and even brighten your entire block. Whether you do the work yourself or hire professional painters, following the above advice will ensure that you get the most out of your investment.

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What You Don’t Know… Yet====================

I’m a father of three, two boys and a girl, ages 5, 4, and 2. As a pastor of a church with a wide familial makeup my wife and I often run into a dilemma. It involves bedtimes. It’s my problem, I know, but I’d like to make it our problem. Here it is. It costs twice as much money to go out on a date than people without kids – the date for us and the babysitter that runs about $10 hr. I know what you’re thinking, “Well, you should have thought about that before you had kids.” We did... in the general sense. We knew kids would cost more, we just didn’t know how much more. How could we! We didn’t have kids and the people we knew with kids were too busy to explain the socio-economic breakdown of where kids would really stick it to you. My wife and I would have been happy to just observe for ourselves but the last thing our friends wanted was us peppering

them with questions like, “How much did your health insurance go up?” or “How many diapers do you change each day?” Nope, when their kids finally go to bed they just wanted to be alone. That didn’t make sense then, but now... So I’d like to help anyone out there who wants to start a litter of their own. It’s wonderful! You’ll love it. But before you start, I want you to realize something... you’re selfish. It’s not that you don’t care about others. You just don’t realize that you have so much more that you can give to others. And, if you plan on being a great mom or dad, you are about to find out how much more you can give (even if you don’t feel like it). From now on everything will revolve around this little brood that you’ve intentionally or accidentally created. Ah, you want examples do you? Ok, but spoiler alert... you’re about to see what your parents did for you and it may require apologizing! Here goes…- Time is no longer yours. It belongs to the kid. Everything you do must be done between the time you wake up and nap time and then nap time and bed time. If there are multiple naps that your child takes then your life is even more fun. This is why stay-at-home moms run around like chickens with their

heads cut off. They realize that they only have 2 hours and 37 minutes in a 24 hour day. Ah, but it doesn’t end there. Dinner is often cooked while holding a child in one hand and mixing pasta sauce with another. Pasta is the easiest “meal to prepare” but also guarantees a bath (which isn’t absolutely necessary unless you see dirt, right Dad?). So between cooking, eating, and bathing you’ve taken the 5-7 p.m. time slot. And now you’re exhausted and just want to crash. Ha! You can’t sucka! You’ve got laundry and dishes to do! Oh, and there are the multiple times you must get up in the middle of the night as well.- You will pay more for everything. You will pay more for diapers than you ever dreamed. They cost about $20 a box and you go through the box in 5-7 days. Yea, you’ll ask yourself if cloth diapers are worth it. They are if you like scraping poop off of a wash cloth and want all your other clothes to get bleach spots on them. A better idea is teaching them how to use the toilet as quick as you can. I just worked up our tally and I estimate I’ve spent about $10,000 in diapers for my three kids. You can’t see it but I’m tearing up.- You will pay more for groceries. Now you have

to get the good, all natural stuff that costs three times more. You have to get the free and clear detergent because the dyes and perfumes in the stuff you used to use irritates your baby’s skin. You have to buy a gajillion jars of baby food… half of which the kid won’t eat.- You’ll need more space. Look at your house. Is it big enough? It may be time to move. You’re in a different thinking bracket now buddy! You’re finding yourself interested in school districts, nearby parks, and quiet neighborhoods. Notice none of those things had to do with the house itself. - Look at your car. Is it big enough? Will it be a back breaker to put your kid in? Is it safe? I mean at least 4 stars safe? If not, you’ve gotta trade it in or you’ll always be thinking that some Hummer is out there hunting you down. Car seats? They ain’t cheap my friend. Stroller for when you get out of the car? What, you think you’ll just carry the kid? Think again. What about a diaper bag? You’ll need a big one. So, do you see? This is why children are such a major life change. But do you remember what I said earlier? It’s going to be wonderful. Right now you’re thinking, “Really?!?! How?!?!” It’s quite simple, really. You’ll find that you will love every minute of the things mentioned above because they are your children. Because you’ll love every moment you get to hold your child – the bath, the crying, the rocking, the sleeping. You’ll love every dollar you spend on caring for them – the diapers, the upgrades, the doctor’s bills. And you’ll love every sacrifice that you make on their behalf – your time, your money, your talents. You love them and those are just some of the ways that you love them. They are a blessing. For just as Psalm 127:3 says – Children are a reward from God.

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Illness and injury are never convenient. But we are.

When you have a medical need that isn’t quite an emergency but still requires immediate care, we’re here

for you seven days a week. Our experienced medical team will see you with no appointment required. You

can count on their quality care for everything from sprains and cuts to earaches and the flu.

Visit us at our new location behind Portico on Farmerville Hwy. Or for more information, call 318-255-3762.

NEW LOCATIO

N

HOURS: Monday–Friday, 7 a.m.–7 p.m.; Saturday, 9 a.m.–2 p.m.; Sunday, Noon–4 p.m.Walk-ins welcome. • Most insurance plans accepted.

53895_NLMC_Quick_9_75x13c.indd 1 2/18/11 2:40 PM

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Illness and injury are never convenient. But we are.

When you have a medical need that isn’t quite an emergency but still requires immediate care, we’re here

for you seven days a week. Our experienced medical team will see you with no appointment required. You

can count on their quality care for everything from sprains and cuts to earaches and the flu.

Visit us at our new location behind Portico on Farmerville Hwy. Or for more information, call 318-255-3762.

NEW LOCATIO

N

HOURS: Monday–Friday, 7 a.m.–7 p.m.; Saturday, 9 a.m.–2 p.m.; Sunday, Noon–4 p.m.Walk-ins welcome. • Most insurance plans accepted.

53895_NLMC_Quick_9_75x13c.indd 1 2/18/11 2:40 PM

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100 MONKEY MOVEMENTthe

If you can bring yourself to believe in the message behind an unproven claim, I have something that will rock your world. In 1952, a group of scientists supposedly gath-ered on the Japanese Island of Koshima. And what they have been rumored to witness while they were studying a group of Macaque Monkeys has the potential to transform the way we view human society. Yes, I know that these words bring a flood of emotions to those among us who still shudder at the mention of Charles Darwin’s name. But read on, and you’ll see where I’m going with my claim. It all happened because of a sweet potato. Ac-cording to legend, and legend is all that we have to go on, the youngest generation of monkeys on that Japanese is-land began to wash their dirty sweet potatoes before eating them. At first, there were only a few monkeys that caught on. But once the hundredth monkey began to wash his sweet potatoes, the idea spread like wildfire. The simple act of washing sweet potatoes moved from the status of “good idea” to that of “learned behavior.” And despite the fact that the older, more experienced monkeys refused to go along with their younger counterparts, their tiny island’s monkey population adapted and made washing sweet potatoes into a brand new part of their old, distinguished monkey culture. The independance of a few brilliant mon-keys-- and their lack of fear of social consequence-- did much more than wash away grit and bacteria. This fascinating story cannot be proven. In fact, a few sharp-eyed scholars have even done their best to disprove that it even happened in the first place. But the validity of the study isn’t important-- what I’m interested in is the message behind it. I know what you’re asking yourself right now. You want to know why the story of these monkeys really mat-ters to us, people that live half a world away nearly sixty years later. And to explain, I need to tell you a little bit about the way that I was raised. For I, Jackie Lewis, was raised to be a monkey. I come from a long line of people that proudly hoot and holler their opinions-- even if they’re the only ones with the courage to do so-- and I intend to bring my children up to become strong-willed adults that

will not settle for the worst that society can throw at them. I want my kids to be monkeys. I want them to be the first ones to wash their sweet-potato shaped ideas in the stream of life. And I do not want them,or you, to be afraid of being the first one to stand up and say, “Hey, y’all-- I have a better way of doing things, and I’m not afraid to talk about it.” Our society has become contorted over the years since our founding fathers landed upon the eastern shores of this great land. As Americans, we founded our country upon the belief that one person can change the world. Yet here in the land of freedom and liberty, in the twenty-first century, few people are truly willing to give it a shot. As a society, we have been both blessed and cursed by our instinctual tendancy to blend in with the crowd. Our society works because of our natural instinct to stake our claim together. We proudly stand beneath the bold-striped red, white and blue flag. We find a cul-tural identity within this group of citizens, and many of us believe so strongly in the idea of free expression that we are willing to fight to defend it. We are Americans first, and then we allow ourselves to be comfortably subdivided into other groups that conform with our individual person-alities. We proudly claim “I’m from Louisiana,” or “I’m a Southern Baptist,” or “I’m a musican.” And these group ties keep us strong in our faith, in our communities, and in our world. But there is a hidden danger in groupthink. If we’re not careful, our groups can evolve and take on a life of their own. One has to look no further than the clench-fisted arena of American politics to see what one group of people can do to another with an opposing opinion. And what party-based politics is doing to our country on a na-tional level, it has begun to do on a small scale within the hearts of our communities. We, as a society, have become so innamored by mud-slinging campaigns and attacks on character that we have forgotten that it’s the idea of washing the sweet potato that we should vote for, not the monkey that yells the loudest and shows his ag-gression. As Americans, we’ve become consumed by the idea that he who owns the most sweet potatoes should be elected to office. But I dare to ask the question that is plaguing our society: WHERE ARE OUR GREAT LEAD-ERS? Where are the human versions of those monkeys-- the people that aren’t afraid to hold a dirty sweet potato in their hands and wash it even when no one will stand beside them?

written by Jacquelyn Tripp Lewis

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100 MONKEY MOVEMENT

I believe in humanity. I know that we have a tre-mendous amount of potential, but I also know how easy it is for us as individuals to hide within a crowd and pre-tend that we’re just like everyone else because we’re too afraid to stand up for what we believe in. As a society, we’ve become terrified of speaking our minds, of saying “no” when everyone else is saying yes. We’re afraid to be the first one to take our sweet potato-scented hope for the future to the stream that runs through the hearts of our small towns and cities, and this fear is crippling us as a society. Think back to the days of your childhood. You were taught to sit qui-ety, remain quiet, memorize facts and to never disturb your class. Our entire American society has been raised up to believe in the power of rote knowledge, and we are so well-trained to believe in our fill-in-the-blank educational system that we don’t even realize that it is stealing away our creativity. Art and music programs have been almost completely removed from our rural schools, replaced by classes that ask our children to regurgitate facts and statistics without ever truly thinking about the ideas behind them. We have stifled the creativity within us, and grown com-placent with being told that our ideas are not of value. We have stopped the movement of monkeys that want to wash their sweet potatoes. But it doesn’t have to be this way. The 100th monkey in any movement is the one that tips the scales. He or she is one of the few people that will rise up and do what needs to be done, despite the odds of success or the fear of social consequence. And that 100th monkey is the one that makes everyone else take notice. This issue is dedicated to making monkeys out of men and women. Read BEWARE, ART ENLIGHTENS, written by Chris Broussard, and then think about the im-pact that we, as regular citizens, can have upon our state, our nation, and our world. And teach your children to be monkeys, too. Read the poem “100 MONKEY MOVE-MENT FOR CHILDREN” to your little ones, and teach them that the future of our world is in their hands. Be that 100th monkey. And believe me when I say this: we need you more than you can possibly imagine.

written by Jacquelyn Tripp Lewis

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ART ENLIGHTENSbeware,beware,

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I had my first moment of enlightenment before I was twelve. My father was in the US Army and we lived on the outskirts of Paris, France. I was on a school field trip to the Louvre that would forever alter my self-awareness. I was not a good student. Poor grades, bad attitude, anger issues-- you name it, I had it. And I had yet to come to understand what this art thing was. When we entered the massive building with the huge staircase, we walked down a long hall that seemed to go on forever. We walked right up to a portrait of a woman. The sight of this painting stopped me in my tracks. It was the Mona Lisa. I was surprised at my reaction. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I stood there in a trance while my classmates ventured on. I remember what my next thought was as if it were yesterday. At the tender age of eleven, something inside of me changed. I felt drawn to the genius of this creation. This piece of art seemed to have a special message for me. I remember thinking that I wanted to be a better human being. I wanted to be a part of this creative thought process. I never forgot that day. And things did change for me. My grades improved, along with my desire for learning. The transformation had begun. Now, nearly fifty years later, I reflect on that time with a new appreciation and sadness. I realize how fortunate I was to have had that experience in the Louvre, and how

unfortunate it is that very few children in my community will ever have that chance. I’ve shared this story often with my students, not because I want them to grow up to be artists, but because I want them to grow up to be thinkers. I’ve spent the majority of my life trying to encourage, expose, teach and promote the arts. I quote studies, write letters, apply for grants, and go door to door. We need to bring the arts back into our schools, I say. With all the studies that show the value of an arts curriculum and emphasize how the arts play an important role in brain development of a child, I am constantly amazed that the message isn’t getting to the right people. The connection between art and creativity is often discounted, down-played, or out-right ignored. I’ve even come to wonder if there’s a conspiracy to dumb down our children. Our nation’s public school system seems to be putting all of their emphasis on teaching children how to pass a test. We are simply teaching our school children ‘what’ to think, and not ‘how’ to think. Studies show the role the arts play in critical thinking and problem solving, and it’s no wonder that our children are suffering from the lack of an art curriculum in our schools. Our high school dropout percentages are through the roof. According to the US Department of Education, National Center for Education Statistics, by 1998 the average dropout rate nationwide for African American children between the ages of 16 and 24 was at 13.8%. Native Americans were at 11.8%. Now compare this statistic to Louisiana. According to the Louisiana Department of Education, in the 2005-2006 school year term, forty-

five out of every one hundred African-American students that should have graduated did not graduate. Forty-two out of every one hundred Native American students living in Louisiana suffered the same fate. I wonder who’s controlling the system. Who promotes this system that stifles creativity, that discourages individuality? Jonathan Kozol, author of Amazing Grace: the Lives of Children and the Conscience of a Nation, explains it this way. “But for the children of the poorest people we’re stripping the curriculum, removing the arts and music, and drilling the children into useful labor. We’re not valuing a child for the time in which she actually is a child.” I believe that we have become more interested in test scores than in incorporating a learning environment that stimulates creative thought. We rarely allow our children to ask “why?” Conformity has become the norm. Instead of unlocking the minds of our children, we’re limiting their brain development and we’re limiting their future prospects. While considering the future of our country and the many challenges our children and grandchildren will face, it is becoming obvious that we need creative thinkers. We need the kind of leadership that encourages intellectual growth. I know first hand what the arts can do to not only improve a child’s self-image, I know what it can do to spark a child’s imagination, create a desire for learning, and open their mind to unlimited possibilities. Right now, we are simply teaching our children how to answer questions. Without a stimulating envi ronment,

it’s only a matter of time before even more of our children will become statistics. And I am not willing to stand back and watch it happen here in Louisiana. I have been an advocate for the arts for more than half my life, and it hasn’t been easy. Most people don’t understand my drive and passion. Most people are still of the mindset that the arts are just some fluff stuff you give kids who can’t pass the test. Many have the mindset that art and music are not important, and they want their child to learn a “real” skill so they can get a “real” job. I had a friend ask me one day why I fight so hard for the arts in a community that obviously does not embrace it. I though about what Richard Riley, the former Secretary of Education once said. “I have long believed in the important role that music and the arts can play in helping students learn, achieve, and succeed. Education in theatre, dance and the visual arts is one of the most creative ways we have to find the gold that is buried just beneath the surface. They (children) have an enthusiasm for life, a spark of creativity and vivid imagination that needs training that prepares them to become confident young men and women.” But I didn’t quote Riley in answer to my friend’s question. I told her the one thing that keeps me going, that gives me hope for the next generations of children in northern Louisiana—the possibility of a movement beginning that will save our children and bring creativity back to the forefront of the American educational system. “I’ve got to keep fighting for the arts,” I say. “Because I’m waiting for the 100th monkey.”

written by Chris Broussard

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100 MONKEY MOVEMENTfor children One little monkey, sittin’ in a tree,Hootin’ and Hollerin’ for all to see.“Hey, everybody- climb up here with me,the world is different from the top of this tree!”

“Ooo Ooo Aaa Aaa,” she calls out loud,“Are there any more Monkeys out in that crowd?”The faces look back, but to her surprise,All she sees are blank, staring people eyes!

“Ooo Ooo Aaa Aaa,” she calls once more,Everyone below her tries to ignore.“Get down, get quiet,” they yell her way,But the little Monkey knows she will get her day!

When out of nowhere, another Monkey chimes,“I’m a Monkey, too, and it is Monkey time!”She climbs on up high and sits on the same limb,“Together we can both get through to them!”

But down below, all the people are surprised,for they have never seen a Monkey with their own eyes!“Get down, get quiet,” people yell their way,But the little Monkeys know they will get their day!

“Ooo Ooo Aaa Aaa,” they holler out loud,“Are there any more Monkeys out in that crowd?”Then out of the blue, there comes another hoot,“I belong up there in that tree with you!”

“Come on, get up,” the Monkeys both plead,As the third little Monkey climbs up in that tree.“Get down, get quiet,” the people all say,But the three Monkeys know they will get their day!

“Ooo Ooo Aaa Aaa,” they yell so loud,That five more Monkeys come out of that crowd!Before the day is finished, there are more than one or two,Enlightened little Monkeys taking in their new view.

The people started to notice all the Monkeys on the limb,and wonder why the Monkeys look so very much like them!“Get down, get quiet,” all day the people pleaded,But up in the tree, those Monkeys stay seated!

“Ooo Ooo Aaa Aaa,” eight happy Monkeys shout,While down below, all the angry people pout.“Why are they up there, and what do they see?”“I don’t like to hear Monkeys preachin’ at me!”

“Ooo Ooo Aaa Aaa, we’re not playin’ around!Monkeys don’t belong down there on that ground!”When out of the woodwork, more Monkeys do pop,by ten and then twenty, till the people say, “Stop!”

“Get down, get quiet,” the people all say,But twenty-eight Monkeys tend to have their way!High upon that limb, all the Monkeys start to cheer,“You’d really like the view if you climbed up here!”

“The city looks diff’rent, and the world does, too!Come on up now and see from our view!You see the world diff’rent, we see the world clear,You’d like the view, too, if you climbed up here!”

Their voices all together, with Brute Monkey Might,“Ooo Ooo Aaa Aaa,” they chant day and night!They call out to each other, they call out to the crowd,Until a hundred Monkeys have proudly gathered round!

One hundred Mighty Monkeys and the people start to hear,The loudest Monkey-call of all, the call to “Come up here!”Their voices all together, their chant one and the same,The people start to notice that these aren’t just Monkey games!

“There’s something to those Monkeys, high upon that limb,”and suddenly the people know, the Monkeys are like them!And in that single moment, the people there all knew,There’s a tiny bit of Monkey inside of me and you!

For we all have inner Monkeys, just begging to get out,So go ahead today and just let those Monkeys shout!“Ooo Ooo Aaa Aaa,” we can hoot and holler loud,Till there’s not a single Monkey, still in the people crowd!

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100 MONKEY MOVEMENTfor children

art by CHRIS BROUSSARD

poetry by JACQUELYN TRIPP LEWIS

Teaching our children to stand up for what they believe in is one of the most important lessons we

can teach the next generation. And it’s easier than you’d think.

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====================

ALL CHARACTERS AREN’T CREATED EQUAL

====================

The stories you write undoubtedly have casts of varying numbers, descriptions and personalities. And while every character in your manuscript works together to tell your story, they each perform a different function depending on the roles you assign them. In fiction there are four tiers of characters. These are:

Primary Characters•Secondary Characters•Bit Players•Extras•

Let’s look at each tier in more detail.

Primary Characters are those characters who carry the most weight in your story and are its focus and drivers. They must be fully rounded, with a distinct style and voice, and with well delineated goals and motivations. These are the characters your readers will invest in as they follow the thread of your story. There are three types of

Primary Characters:

Main Character• - the character through whom the reader experiences the story. Protagonist• - the principal focus and force behind the effort to achieve the story’s goal. Antagonist• - the character whose main drive is to undermine the protagonist or stop him from achieving his goal.

•NOTE: Your story will not always have all three types present. In many cases the Main Character is combined with the Protagonist or Antagonist. An example of where they are not the same can be found in the Sherlock Holmes stories. We see most of the action unfold through Dr. Watson’s eyes, making him the Main Character, while Sherlock Holmes himself is obviously the Protagonist.

Next, let’s take a look at Secondary Characters. These characters carry slightly less story weight than your Primary Characters, but are still well rounded and crucial to the arc of your story. They are important, but the key thing to remember is that their importance stems entirely from their relation to the Primary Characters. Secondary Characters, by definition, are those

characters who stand beside or against your Primary Characters, who highlight their flaws and virtues, and who provide the reader with an additional perspective as the Primary Characters struggle to meet their story goal. You should give Secondary Characters only enough history and depth to equal their weight and importance to the story.

Some of the many roles a Secondary Character might perform are:

Catalyst - spurs one or •more of your primary characters to actMentor - gives your •primary character the tools they need to undertake the journey toward their goal. Informant - has •information or insight about the backstory or motivations of another character and shares this insight with the protagonist and/or the reader. Confidant - a sounding •board for a primary character. Foil - provides a contrast •to a primary character, highlighting various facets of that primary character’s personality or worldview. Expendable Victim •- a character who is soundly defeated in some way - physically, financially, morally - during the course of the story. It serves

to bring home to the reader how vulnerable the protagonist is to the same fate. Competitor - vies for •the same goal as your protagonist - a job, a love interest, an award, etc. Obstacle - stands •in the way of your primary character achieving his goal, whether deliberately or otherwise.

There are other roles these characters can play, but these are the main ones.

Now, let’s move on to your Bit Players. These are characters who carry much less story weight than primary or secondary characters. You might give them a physical characteristic or two and may or may not name them, but they are usually defined primarily by context. These are the clerks, teachers, waiters, neighbors, etc. who have a brief moment in the spotlight via a bit of dialog or action, but who are there merely to move the story along in some way.

With bit players you have more leeway to paint with a broad brush, to make the characterization less subtle. It’s not necessary or even desirable to tell the reader much about them - that would only bog down the story and dilute focus from your main thread. You want to sprinkle in only enough information to make their actions believable, and this can normally be provided by context or station.

Now for the fourth tier of characters - the Extras. These are the nameless throngs who are almost invisible except as props. Because your other characters do not normally walk around in an empty world, you must people it with the multitude of everyday folk who make their world believable and give it context. These could be people passing by on a crowded street, other motorists in a traffic

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snarl, fans seated in the bleachers at a game or the throngs of soldiers in a battle. These are not characters your reader will pay much attention to as individuals - like furniture and scenery, they exist only to add verisimilitude and detail to your story world, and to provide a backdrop against which your other characters live out the story.

Using Your Characters EffectivelyNow that you know how to differentiate the tiers of characters, here are a few guidelines to keep in mind when you are casting your story.

Make certain each 1. character serves a story purpose. Characters should not merely exist to pad your pages or because you thought it would be fun to throw in a bit of comic relief or a moment of poignancy. Before adding any character, you need to

think about his reason for being there. Be ruthless about this. If you can’t articulate the ‘why’ of having a particular character in your story - and do it in terms of story purpose - give him the ax.

Don’t use two 2. characters where one will serve. If you have a secondary character or bit player who serves your story in only a minor way, take a hard look at whether that function can be passed off to another, more essential character. Streamlining your cast can strengthen the focus and impact of your story.

Provide goals and 3. motivation for your characters that are equal to the weight they carry in the story. This allows your reader to understand enough about what makes your characters act as they do while allowing her

WINNIE GRIGGS is a multi-published ro-mance author who currently writes for Harlequin’s Love In-spired and Love In-spired Historical lines. Her column focuses on tips and prompts for aspiring authors. A small town girl herself, Winnie’s books focus on family, community and matters of faith - all subjects that are near and dear to her own heart. Readers can learn more about Winnie and her books at www.winniegriggs.com or connect with her on Facebook.

to not be distracted by extraneous information that doesn’t further your plot.

Which brings us to the 4. key takeaway from this article - Be certain your spotlight remains firmly fixed on your primary characters and their story journey. Secondary story lines are fine, but again, they should exist to highlight some aspect of the primary characters and their pursuit of their goals, not usurp center stage. The primary characters should maintain the reader attention, command the majority of those memorable, exciting/ intriguing/ heart-rending scenes, and own all of the key plot elements, motivations and goals.

In the end, your characters are most effective and engaging to the reader when

you cast them thoughtfully and with an understanding of the needs of your plot.

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====================

REMEMBER THESE? THEN YOU’VE LIVED!====================

Over the years, I’ve made numerous remarks indicating my desire to return to the “good ol’ days”. Of course, I’d hate like rips to give up my air conditioner, central heat, microwave oven, cell phone..., may as well say everything that’s electrical and a lot of things that aren’t. Hey! Being able to take a bath in hot water on a cold morning and without having to build a fire is worth a lot. However, the most important device of today..., something that has changed the world as I remember it..., something that, when needed, is more valuable than gold..., is the indoor toilet! Yes, sir! Make no mistake about it. Not having to get up in the middle of a freezin’, 10 degree winter night and traipse outside

to the outhouse is nothing short of phenomenal. Even with the heat such as we’ve experienced during our summers, an outhouse is something you really want to avoid...., that is, if other facilities are available. In the summer time of old you had to fight the wasps that build their nests in and around the facility, sweat stingin’ your eyes as a result of a tin roof bakin’ in the hot sun, and the splinters.., well, we won’t go there even though the splinters did! The following, hopefully, will bring you some happier memories than the above. I stumbled across an internet web page that mentioned a few of these “items”; I’ve added some of my own. Hope you can relate to them.

Please begin by reminiscin’ the days when the most serious questions you had were “how long is it ‘til lunch?” and “can I go outside and play?” It was a time when serious issue decisions were made by going “eeny-meeny-miney-mo” or “one potato, two potato”. Mistakes were corrected by simply exclaiming, “do over!” Back then, the phrase “race issue” meant arguing about who ran the fastest, and money issues were handled by whoever was the banker in “Monopoly”. And who can forget catching fireflies, or lightnin’ bugs as I called

them, in a Mason jar? That alone could happily occupy an entire evening. It, too, was a time when it wasn’t odd to have two or three, or even more, “best friends”. And being old referred to anyone over the age of twenty. It was a time when outdoor activities seemed to be the only things that mattered in life and abilities were discovered because of a “double-dog-dare.” And could you believe it when you were told dodgeball or vine swingin’ wasn’t an Olympic event?! You know, this, too, was a time when nobody, and I mean nobody, was prettier than Mom. Scrapes and bruises were kissed and made better. Even Dad made things exciting when he “magically” removed his thumb. It was a big deal to finally be tall enough to ride the “big people” rides at the

Parish Fair.War was a card

game and water balloons were the ultimate weapon. Having a weapon in school meant being caught with a slingshot. Almost as bad was gettin’ caught settin’ off a homemade “stink bomb” created from an old ink pen and a match head. However, gettin’ caught with a “cheat sheet” was worse! Much worse! Take my word for it. Some of the most fun came from spinnin’ around and around, gettin’ dizzy and falling down. And when you and your friend caught a good case of the giggles, it didn’t matter if you were in school or in church, you just had to let ‘em out. The worst embarrassment was being picked last for the team and taking drugs meant orange-flavored aspirin. Ice cream was considered a basic food group and baseball cards in the spokes transformed any bicycle into a motorcycle. In my case and since I had no baseball cards, I used cut pieces of plastic. They were louder and lasted longer than pieces of cardboard. I even thought it made my old hand-me-down, made-from-three-junkers bicycle go faster. And no matter how much your older sibling seemed to be your worst tormentor, he, or she, was also your fiercest protector. Folks, if any of the above kindled a warm thought of your past, then you can proudly claim you have LIVED!

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Is it ok to start your New Years resolution in May? It has taken me 4 months to realize exactly what my resolution is, to take care of ME. I have a little saying on my desk that says “It’s all about me” and every time I look at I just laugh because it has never ever been all about me. I recently had lunch with a dear friend. I had bumped into her at a boutique out shopping one Saturday and we decided to have lunch. We shared some small talk and caught up on both our lives and before you know it I was crying. Well, balling! Yes hard enough to have to pick up my well used napkin out of the plate I had just finished and blow my nose. Once the tears started they just kept coming and right there in the middle of this charming little restaurant I just let it all out. I felt overworked but not giving anything 100%, I felt overwhelmed by the recent news that my sweet mother is about to have aortic valve replacement, upset that I have geraniums my husband brought home for me sitting by the back stoop waiting to be potted and that I just have no desire to pot them, disgusted that my closet needs attention in a

bad way (not just purging but also straightened up just so I can find things), oh and did I mention worried about my mom and feeling inadequate because I feel like I am not giving 100% of myself at anything. Oh yes I did mention that. Still crying, worse now as time passes. The kind of crying where you wish you had worn waterproof mascara because now you look like a member of KISS, well not that good. I just went on and on and on and on, not exaggerating here, on and on about poor poor me! My dear friend just cried with me and listened. I started to feel like I could talk in a normal voice and my nose did not need constant attention. By the way, it was apparent to all in the restaurant that I was a blubbering mess; you would have thought the waitress would have brought me some clean napkins, just saying. It was at this time that my devoted friend looked at me and said, Vicki you have got to take care of you! It dawned on me that I don’t take care of me the way I need to. Last summer I exercised everyday, ate right and felt wonderful and somehow just stopped cold turkey. I mean people who smoke and drink quit cold turkey when they finally realize how bad it is for them but how warped am I to quit cold turkey something that actually makes me feel great and is good for me. I have always been a bit

backwards but come on now, I think I may need to see a counselor and talk this out! Finally I pulled myself together and used the last inch of napkin that could be salvaged to clean up around my eyes enough to get me to the car before someone called the hospital to have me committed. My sweet friend hugged me and assured me I was not crazy. She is an RN so I am going to take her word for it, not sure anyone else would but I am. I made it to the seat of my car and before driving off I realized I felt so much better. Just getting it out and off the treadmill it kept running on in my head caused me to breath a little easier. I have vowed to get back to exercising and eating right and not overloading myself and my schedule. It is ok for it to be ALL ABOUT ME sometimes. I think that if I am tending to

myself appropriately I can deal with the bumps in the road life throws my way. It took this visit and a good cry to make me realize that I have neglected myself and therefore everything around me was getting the shaft. So back to an exercise routine, eating better, more rest and some weeding. Yes weeding out those things that I have overcommitted to and I am not going to feel bad about it. I would like to end on this, take time for yourself, you are worth it. And when you see a friend in the grocery store, boutique or just across the street that looks tired and lonely and worried, take her for a walk or lunch or make a phone call when you know she has time to talk. Trust me; they need an ear, a shoulder to cry on and for goodness sakes a whole box of Kleenex. Allow me to share a quote from my daily devotion that hit home. Listening works wonders! Loving silence has no sound but tells the one sitting next to you that you care. It can say to the hurting heart, “I want to free you to think about yourself, your failures, and your goals. Because I love you and am interested in you I am willing to sit in silence with you.” Thank you to the readers of my article for allowing me to be myself. To my friend who had enough on her plate that day but took the time to let me get it all out, I LOVE YOU!

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==================== For the Garden has Come to Life====================

For planting ground is painting a landscape with living things and I hold that good gardening takes rank within the bounds of the fine arts, so I hold that to plant well needs an artist of no mean capacity. ~ Gertrude Jekyll, Wood and Garden, 1899

Fruit season is upon us. Fruit is ripening as we speak. My mother has already started making jelly in her kitchen. A Mayhaw tree in her backyard was very prolific this year. The biggest crop ever. If I remember correctly I gave the tree to my dad for a father’s day gift. I purchased it from Sherwood Akins Gardens in Sibley, Louisiana. He grafted to Locust stock. So those trees have long thorns. It must be at least 25 years old. Mayhaw trees, years ago, were thought to be only grown

in swampy conditions. Low lying areas would be where we went to find the delicious, bright pink fruit. I remember when I was eighteen and just married. That first spring we were together, his grandmother wanted to make some jelly. It was time for the Mayhaw’s to be ripe. So we loaded buckets and off we went. He carried me to the swamps on the East side of Lake Bistineau, mid way down the lake. I can’t reveal the exact location. It is top secret. We parked on the side of the road, got out of the truck, walked way deep into the woods; found the actual Mayhaw trees growing everywhere, as far as the eye could see. The water was at least one to two feet deep. We picked and dipped the fruit up with a small holed crawfishing net. I was wondering if a moccasin would come swimming by and bite me on the you know what. I can’t believe I really did that, now, looking back. We scooped up around three, five gallon buckets of fruit. It only took us a few hours of being in the deep dark, mosquito woods. I hoped it would be enough to make jelly, ‘cause for sure, I didn’t ever want to go back to that place. I had never made jelly, before, that I remember. When we returned home grandma was real happy, she had more than enough

to make all kinds of Mayhaw jelly. She washed berries for a while, cleaning out all the trash from the Bistineau water. She boiled the berries taking all day, we brought home enough for the neighborhood. She strained up the juice, squeezing out the pulp. Saving it to make a batch of jelly for our morning toast, because Mayhaw is a delicacy in parts of the south. We soon came to visit grandma for some of that prized jelly of hers. My husband had the poison Ivy all over his legs. It was carried in the water. He was miserable. I never did have it on me. I was so lucky. We thought of that day every time grandma offered us some jelly, laughing at him for itching for weeks. I never want to go dipping for berries again. Some fun facts: Just for

laughs Mayhaw was the Louisiana State jelly in 2003. Starks, Louisiana has a Mayhaw festival every year. For a recipe for making your own Mayhaw jelly go to the National Center for Home Food Preservation on the web. “May-Haw” is also the name of a local variety show in Colquitt, Georgia that was developed by local theater group Swamp Gravy. May-Haw is performed twice a year, in April and January, the April performance to coincide with the Mayhaw festival. The Swamp Gravy is planned to perform in Homer this year. My herb of the month is Dill. According to The Complete Book of Herbs, by Lesley Bremnes the ancient Egyptians recorded dill as a soothing medicine, and the Greeks knew Dill stayeth the “Hickets” (hiccups). Early settlers took dill to North America, where it became known as “Meetin’ Seed,” because children were given dill seed to chew during long sermons. The seed is a very aromatic, flattish, oval, with a brown ribbed center, and buff wings; it contains silicic acid, calcium, phosphorus and other valuable mineral salts. Dill is an easy herb to grow. Dill is considered a hardy annual with a height of 2 to 5 feet. Remember to have fun gardening! And make sure to Reduce, Reuse, & Recycle.

MayhawScientific classification Kingdom: Plantae Division: Magnoliophyta Class: Magnoliopsida Order: Rosales Family: Rosaceae Genus: Crataegus Series: Aestivales

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Stockpiling, Hoarding, and Giving…Oh My!

=====================

Have you seen the new TLC show “Extreme Couponing”? I love it! If our local stores didn’t impose limits on the number of coupons we are allowed to use, I’d be the crazy lady walking out of the store with 1,000 boxes of cereal. Why? Because there are lots of hungry mouths out there that need our help. I will let you in on a little secret. Most of the people featured on that show run websites and blogs dedicated to couponing. They are being paid by the manufacturers to promote and buy certain products, so don’t believe everything you see on TV. What they don’t show is how almost everything they buy is given to local charities. Personally, I try to keep a 6 month stockpile and give away the rest. I wish I had a dollar for every time someone asked me, “How will you ever use all that stuff?” or “Do you really NEED to buy all of that?” Well, let me put those questions to rest and

hopefully give you a few ideas of what you can do with extra things that you may buy only because they are free. Two years ago, our neighbor’s house burned down. They lost their daughter and granddaughter along with everything they owned. As I passed the scene, my heart broke for them, and I knew I had to do something! Can you imagine losing everything and one of the first things you have to do is go out and buy $200 worth of toiletries just so you can brush your teeth, take a bath, and wash your clothes? I was not couponing at the time, but I remember packing a laundry basket with whatever I had at home: paper towels, bottled water, and pasta. I felt helpless. We were not in a place financially to go buy them what they needed. All I could do was post the needs on Facebook and hope that others could step up to help. That has all changed now! Fast forward a year later. A fellow teacher lost her home to a fire. I was able to pull out my stockpile and give toothpaste, toothbrushes, laundry detergent, razors, shave gel, deodorant, and body wash. It was a great feeling, and it didn’t cost me anything. There are people in need all around us. With the struggling economy,

organizations need donations more than ever. Just the other day, CVS paid me $10 to take a glucose meter home with me. My mom is the volunteer coordinator at a local hospice. I’m able to donate things like Fixodent, glucose meters, and Depends pads to her patients. My mom has begun going shopping with me for the deals. She then makes little care packages for her patients. It seems like a small gesture but means a lot to a family dealing with a terminal disease. Find a way to donate your coupon items. Take them to a homeless shelter, a home for unwed mothers, or any other worthy organization. For me and my family, having a stockpile has been a blessing. I am 7 months pregnant, and for the first 6 months, I have had a tough time. I didn’t feel like going shopping or even leaving the house. We have lived off our stockpile. It has been nice to not make the hubby stop on the way home for toothpaste knowing that he’s had a long day at work and has to take care of me and the kids at night because I’m not feeling up to it. I’ve heard of people who have lost their job and lived off their stockpile for 6 months to a year. The main thing is to find balance and what works for you and your family.

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Cody McCarver

www.LASouthernFriedFestival.com

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McCarver, country’s music’s newest outlaw. Local favorites like Ratchet, Stone Cold, Cowboy Up, Swamp Hippies and others will be playing throughout both days. The festival will also introduce newcomers CJ Solar and 80’s rock tribute band Hairosol. Enjoy the rodeo in the air conditioned arena then music, vendor shopping, kids entertainment, and more. Another big addition this year is a Dock Dogs competition. Here amateur and professional dogs from all over the south compete in “Big Air”, “Extreme Vertical”, “Speed Retrieve”, and “Iron Dog” challenges. Youth, lap dog and other amateur classes can compete and receive free training. It’s a pet friendly festival for dogs who don’t mind being on a leash or a little country music. West Monroe native and CMT star of Gator 911, Gary Saurage will be on hand with live alligators and reptiles to educate and entertain about wildlife of Louisiana. The kiddie corral has plenty of games, activities, and even a petting zoo to keep the little ones smiling. There is a Southern Fried beauty pageant, classic car show, motorcycle show, regional films screening, volleyball tournament, steak cook-off and so much more. If finding unique gifts and services is your thing you’ll love the vendor alley with dozens of booths filled with everything from jewelry to fine photography and even a chainsaw sculptor. Festival guests are encouraged to bring their most comfortable camping chairs because you’ll want to stake out an area, grab some of the tastiest southern treats North Louisiana has to offer, kick back and enjoy West Monroe at its best! See it all for just $10 each day for adults and kids 12 and under get in free. RV parking available. Remember seating for the PRCA Pro Rodeo is limited so come early and plan to stay late! Applications for pageant, competitions and vendors are available online at www.LASouthernFriedFestival.com or call 318-396-5000 for more info. Like us on Facebook for up to the minute news on contests, prizes and the latest entertainment additions! May 27th and 28th West Monroe is gonna sizzle, pop, and fry!

with performances by: Joe Diffie, Exile, Cody McCarver, Ratchet, Stone Cold, Cowboy Up, Swamp Hippies & so many more!

On May 27 and 28th the City of West Monroe will host the 2nd annual Louisiana Southern Fried Festival at the Ike Hamilton Expo Center just off I-20 in West Monroe. A new highlight this year is the PRCA Pro Rodeo. “From the crack of the first latch until the dust settles, we will keep you on the edge of your seats,” says Scotty Lovelace, owner of the Classic Pro Rodeo. Ike Hamilton Expo Center Manager Mike Wilkes is expecting large crowds. “The PRCA rodeo will feature two days of excitement with events like bull riding, barrel racing, bareback riding, saddle bronc, steer wrestling and much more. Since the price for the rodeo is included in the festival’s low admission the seats are going to go really fast,” said Wilkes. A Pro Rodeo in our area is big news but that is just the beginning. The weekend will feature headline

entertainment by Joe Diffie (Pickup Man, Prop Me Up Beside the

Jukebox), Exile (Kiss You All Over),

and Cody

Joe Diffie

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You could see by their little red faces they were as hot as could be. Tired didn’t begin to describe their state. The dirt on their faces had turned to mud from the sweat on their

brows. Their dirty hands matched their dirty clothes. Even though they had been up since early that morning, they pressed on. The adults screamed at them “Faster! Faster!” and “Hustle! I said Hustle!” from their shady seats. The sun was hot that June day and these small children had been in the heat for hours. Even though they hadn’t eaten, and they

begged and pleaded for a small bite, their pleas were denied by the grownups. When they started to cry because they were just too tired to go on any longer, they didn’t get the comfort they needed; they got more of a “Suck it up and carry on” kind of speech. These poor, starving, hot, tired children were there for one reason and one reason only.

Were these children from a foreign third world country forced to dig potatoes in the stifling heat for a mere penny and crust of bread as payment? Nope-they were just T-ball players at a T-ball tournament. Don’t get me wrong – we gave them water. And eventually food. We have played many, many, many games. I will admit that as parents it’s sometimes easy to lose focus of what it’s all about and get into a game just a little too much. We forget it’s not always about the score, but about the fundamentals that are learned out in the field. During one particular game my daughter, Little Emmer (that’s what we call her when she acts like her Daddy), complained of her stomach hurting. It was hard to tell if her stomach was hurting or if it was her pride since she had just struck out. I decided to believe that it was her stomach and let her sit out for an inning. I got distracted watching the game and forgot about Little Emmer for a few

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minutes. When I decided to look for her she was not in the dugout where I had told her to stay. When I did find her, she had finally cured her stomach ache. She had talked one of her Grandma’s into buying her some nachos and was sitting in the shade with her shoes off and the same Grandma fanning her. T-ball is always supposed to be about the kids but adults sometimes muddy that up. I think we want our children to be so good we forget that they are just that – children. We want them to be the best – which is sometimes just running around the bases in the correct order without falling. We get caught up in the moment and forget that the yelling we do most of the time falls on deaf ears that are usually covered up by a glove on the top of their heads. We want our kids to be the best professional T-ballers they can be. We teach them all the basics but sometimes forget in the middle of the game that their limitations are what keep the game interesting. We

know this in our heads, but adrenaline kicks in and that’s where our expectations arise. Even with our good intentions we sometimes expect just a tad too much out of these professional butterfly catchers. At the end of every game all the kids win as long as they are encouraged at home and told how great they are. Children are God’s most precious gifts he could ever give us. If we don’t cherish every moment with them, the moments will slip by and be gone. Every day and every season will become a memory. Mommy’s and Daddy’s are children’s first teachers in every facet of their lives. We teach them by example every single day. Push your children to their limits. Make sure they know it’s their best that matters. Encourage them to never give up. Help them to become their best. But if at the end of the day they strike out, just know that nachos are the only thing that can truly make it better.

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For someone who loves junk and loves collection, the old saying; “Less is more”, seems to be more than an oxymoron. Just walking through my house, it’s pretty obvious that I like to display all my “treasures”. From big pieces of furniture that have survived at least a hundred years, to the smallest of my Peter Rabbit collection, each of them have significant value to me. About six months ago, I packed up my “beloved” collection of eclectic treasures as Mike and I started our repair/make-over project to our home built in 1926. Needless to say, the project was more than we originally planned for in terms of time, money, and the estimated damage. What we thought would only take a few weekends to complete ended up taking months as we encountered one delay after another. And the total cost was triple of what we had expected due to the “hidden damage” we had to deal with. Our perseverance finally paid off a few weeks ago. We repaired the floor (literally starting from the ground up) in one room, and put new wood flooring in 3 rooms. All 3 rooms also got new paint, new ”antique look” ceiling fans, and the kitchen cabinets got new

countertops and a distressed paint finish to blend with the primitive décor throughout the rest of the house. After the work was finally done, it was time for the fun part! I was tired of looking at those blank walls, even though I love a fresh clean coat of paint. As I started the decorating challenge, I felt a “change” had come over me. Many of the items that had been packed away for 6 months just didn’t seem to “belong” any more. At first I thought, “Oh, No! I’ve lost my decorations touch”. But the more I pondered on the situation the more I realized that I was going for a more simplistic look. I took a few of my favorite things, grouped them together, and stepped back to admire my “new look”. I liked what I saw, in terms of “stuff” – I also liked some of what I didn’t see! My life has drastically changed in the past 5 years, and I think my “new” décor reflects that change. Both of my children are now grown and gone. We’ve rearranged room to accommodate our lifestyle, which also includes 2 grandsons (ages 2 ½ and 10 months). We now have a playroom/den located in the back of the house right off of the kitchen. This is where we spend most of our time – it is our “Gathering Rooms”. Toys are usually cluttering the floor and they don’t blend very well with my primitive pieces, but memories are being made and that’s what matters most. So I guess you can

say I’ve decluttered a bit. I’ve made myself “choose” what items could stay and which ones had to go. In doing so, I was able to actually add a few pieces that I had never displayed before. It all just fell into place, and I’m pleased with the new look. Some items have now been “re-purposed” and are being used in other areas of house.

I encourage you to look around and decide if there’s anything you can live without. Not only will you get a new, clean, look, but there are several advantages as well:

You have less to (1) clean (which also saves time)You can earn a (2) little extra cash by having a garage saleYou’ll make (3) someone else happy-cause you know what they say…”One man’s trash is another man’s treasure!”Last but not least, (4) (and probably my favorite), it gives you more reason to go look for “new treasures”.

So until next time…From my Happy Heart to yours… God Bless!

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====================

Nest Egg====================

Don’t worry, I’m not about to give anyone advice on their 401-K. This story pertains to nest eggs in the “hen house”. Each year on our birthday Mother would make a cake for us. It was spring and the chickens were laying their normal amount, but for some reason Mother didn’t have enough eggs for my cake. As soon as I got home from school she sent me to the “hen house” to get a couple of eggs. The hens were staying on the nest trying to “set” and occasionally they would peck you on the hand defending their nest. On the way to the “hen house” I picked up a stick about three feet long to poke the chickens if they didn’t want to move. Sure enough one old hen put up a fight but after a poke or two I managed to scare her from the nest. There was one egg in that nest

and I needed two. There was only one other nest on that side of the house that I could reach. I couldn’t see the nest but I could reach it if I climbed up on the chicken roost so that’s what I did. I reached as far as I could and grabbed a chicken snake! This was not good, standing on one foot on the rail of a chicken roost. I just about demolished the hen house before I got out. The snake got away and I broke the egg I had in my other hand. My brother and one of my sisters heard the commotion and came to see what was going on. As soon as I could talk again I explained what had happened. They were older than me and had encountered snakes before and knew what Mother was going to do. It was time to get serious when it came down to cake or snake, the snake had to go. Mother believed in nest eggs, not just any nest egg, but a white doorknob. A white doorknob in the nest fooled the chickens and kept them from moving their nests all over the pasture where eggs wouldn’t be found until they were ruined. But the white doorknob also fooled the snakes into thinking that they ahd found the egg jackpot. If a snake swallowed the doorknob you would find it in a few weeks along with

the skeleton of the snake wrapped around a nearby tree trunk. Soon my brother and I were out looking for doorknobs. While we were gone my sister borrowed a couple of eggs from the neighbor and my mother baked the cake. The first place Boo and I looked was around the “hen house”. We tried to keep a doorknob in every nest, but during the year some would fall out and some were carried off by snakes. We would walk the field looking for snake skeletons and doorknobs that the snake had gotten from a nest months or sometimes years earlier. If by some chance there still were not enough door knobs to place one in each nest we would check with aunts, uncles and close neighbors to see if they had discarded any knobs. B e c a u s e people who didn’t have chickens would s o m e t i m e s

give us the old discarded knobs. If they offered any color other than white, we were instructed to decline. Mother only wanted us to get the white ones. I never figured that one out. A snake in the middle of the night, in a hen house, how can they really tell what color a doorknob is?

Maybe that’s what they mean when someone refers to something as “snake eyes” but I wouldn’t bet on that if I were you. Anyway, white it was, because “Momma says”. The moral of my story is that the doorknobs would disappear, and so would the snake. And all of us kids would get a cake for our birthday. For a kid on the farm, every day is a new adventure!

-----------------------------------P.J. is a Storyteller, Lyrics writer and Poet, Email him at Phillip Volentine@yahoo.com, or write the Minute Mag at 512 Fort Avenue, Minden, LA, 71055.-----------------------------------

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Recently while doing some research on the internet for information about women’s flat track roller derby, I was quite surprised with some of the terms I encountered. “Fast-paced and strategic; crazy rules and even crazier scoring methods; sexy and empowering; hard-core, unique, alter-egos.” Words like that had me instantly intrigued. A few months ago I came across a post, while wasting more time than I would like to admit, on Facebook. The Shreveport-Bossier area had its very own women’s roller derby team, and their first season “bout” was coming up March 11. I immediately told my husband to mark his calendar and to not make any other commitments – we had a family night planned. My two sons, Michael, 13 and Sammy, 11, didn’t object, but I suspected that the teenager thought that if mom thought it was cool, it probably wasn’t. If that was the case, he has since changed his mind. We attended the match that night and rooted for the Twin City Knockers as they went roller-skate to roller-skate against the Vicious Vixens out of Texarkana. The Knockers were victorious with a score of 242-61. Although the teams are very competitive, it’s obvious that the players all get along very well and have a mutual respect for each other. I am also very happy to report that it was well attended with over 800 fans in attendance. Hot Wheels Skating in Bossier City was filled to the brim with fans, friends and family members proudly cheering on their team and their favorite derby girl. Kids of all ages meandered through the building, hoping to catch a team member on a break so she could sign the autograph page in their program. I even purchased an official “Twin City Knockers” t-shirt and had every derby girl I could track down sign the back with a permanent marker – I am a sucker for personalized souvenirs. It was nice to stand rink-side and chat with the players prior to the bout, and to even

ROLLER DERBY

ON THE

RIVER

Shreveport-Bossier’s new “TWIN CITY KNOCKERS”

ROLLER DERBY team introduces all-female

contact sport to our area

Article & Photography by Michelle McCrary

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realize that “Dirty Diva”, aka Danielle Giddens, was a very good friend of mine

in high school for the brief amount of time I spent at Lake-view High in Campti, Louisiana.

My family drove home that night with visions of dolled-up, tough-as-nails derby girls skating through our heads. We knew we were hooked and my husband jokingly asked me when I was going to join the team. I pondered what my derby name would be…but then I realized that I would probably fall on my rear-end if I just looked at a pair of roller skates.

A few days later, I attended the Knockers’ weekly practice, which takes place at the same rink where the bout was held in Bossier. I chatted with the girls, who were sore from the hits they had taken against the Vixens, but proud nonetheless of their win and anxious to hone their skills with team exercises and drills. I learned a lot about them and they are a very interesting and unique group of ladies indeed. They range in age from early twenties to forty years old. Several ladies confessed that before joining the Knockers, they hadn’t worn a pair of roller skates since they were in elementary or middle school. By day they are moms, students, computer programmers and even one is a chiropractor.

But catch them at weekly practice or a competitive bout, called as such because the match is

considered a fight to the finish, and you will see a transformation. Derby girls are famous for their sexy, outrageous outfits. Fish-net stockings and short skirts are almost a given. Uniquely decorated knee-high socks help a derby girl stand out in the crowd. But the best parts of Roller Derby, in my opinion, are the derby names.

Desiree Davis becomes the crowd-favorite “Dezzy Deckher.” Annie Todd catches the eye as the fierce “Robin of Foxley.” Afore mentioned chiropractor Dr. Jennifer Hamer slams onto the rink as “Dr. Krakenspine.” Sarah Lakey rolls onto the scene

sporting the moniker “Angst Muffin.” Amelia Lunsford-Welling spins as “Mia Go Round.” Jennifer White blasts in as “Polly Pistol.” Amanda Barrett is the

head coach, aka “Fuds.” These are the alter-egos that distinguish these ladies

from their normal, everyday lives. Derby names can be funny; they can be tough

or even sexy. When attending a bout, don’t be surprised to see supporting friends and family members in the audience, in large number, holding up signs and banners proclaiming who they are rooting for. Several derby girls also receive moral support at practice from family and friends who would never miss it. If you have never experienced a live roller derby event, I highly recommend it; you are in for a treat.

Which brings me to the actual bout itself. There are three positions on a roller derby team: the blocker, the pivot and the jammer. The rules are a bit confusing, but in general, the jammer scores the points, while other players circle the rink in formation and attempt to block the other team’s jammer from scoring. Clear as mud, right? For a better explanation, because there is no way I could attempt it, a great online source is the Women’s Flat Track Derby Association at www.wftda.com. Some people think of roller derby

as a fixed event, such as televised wrestling, and that there will be hockey-game style fights

with black eyes, blood on the rink and missing teeth. Not so – there are strict rules and penalties for breaking them. Punching, tripping, elbowing, clothes-lining and blocking from behind are illegal. That being said, injuries are still common and range from knee, ankle and shoulder mishaps to the more common bruising. Protection is required for players; girls must wear helmets, wrist, elbow, and knee and mouth guards.

You’ve got to respect these roller derby ladies; they are working hard to entertain the fans and they aren’t even getting paid. On the contrary, they help support the community by donating a portion of the proceeds from each bout to a local organization in need. At the March bout, they donated to the Rescue Mission. The upcoming bout titled “Heads May Roll” on May 21 will support Robinson’s Rescue, a local low-cost spay and neuter clinic.

With so many new and exciting things going on in the Ark-La-Tex, the time is now for the Twin City Knockers, and these derby girls have rolled right into everyone’s hearts. It’s nice to know that girls can play rough too…and look good doing it!

For more information about the Twin City Knockers, how to buy tickets to upcoming bouts, sponsorships, and more, visit them online at www.twincityknockers.org. Tickets cost $10 per person if bought before the bout, $15 at the door. Kids 10 and under are free.

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pew at church. Sunday after Sunday, I watched my mother’s fingers glide over the black and white of the piano keys producing sounds of praise to a God she adored. It was here...among the pews and practice...that my love affair with music began. My connection with the piano was instant. I liked it. It liked me. We rolled through every event and competition in the first year with ease. There wasn’t a song that I didn’t memorize on the first day of practice after my lesson. I just couldn’t get enough of the music. The love affair with music grew as I did. It branched into other musical expressions like flute, accompanying and choral music. As an adult, I found myself singing in the choir at Camelback Bible Church in Phoenix, Arizona. It was there that I finally came to grips with my love affair. Until that point, my love for music

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====================

Woman: Life, Love and Charity

====================

One of my favorite authors is the great C.S. Lewis. I’ve read many of his books. His stories, such as The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe are classics that should be on everyone’s reading list. Undergirding his creative and otherworldly stories is a thinking man’s theology. While I adore his storytelling in The Chronicles of Narnia, it is actually some of his other writings which unravel the inner workings of man that intrigue me the most. One of my latest reads, Lewis’ book The Four Loves, is particularly challenging and wonderful. And deep within this book, I found truth about the loves in my life.

Lewis breaks down love into four different kinds: Affection, Friendship, Eros, and Charity. Affection, Lewis states, is “the love in which our experience seems to differ the least from that of the animals.” This is the kind of love that a mother has for a child and a child for a parent. I gaze upon my two precious children and I know this kind of love so well. I am amazed at how deep and wide my love for them can be. This is a love of sacrifice, a love where the welfare of another comes before one’s own basic survival instinct. Friendship is a love most overlooked and undervalued in our culture. It is a camaraderie that is built through the shared ups and downs of life. As one of my dear friends says, “It’s about doing life together.” Eros is the passionate love. It goes far beyond the physical bond that can occur between a husband and a

wife. I love Lewis’ words on this subject. He says, “Eros makes a man really want, not a woman, but one particular woman. In some mysterious but quite indisputable fashion the lover desires the Beloved herself, not the pleasure she can give.” [All well-intentioned Hallmark card writers should take note of that one.] Then there is Charity. Charity is different from the others. It is a cultivated love. Lewis spends several pages in his book describing this kind of love as a garden. It is a love that must be tended, weeded, fertilized. It needs sun and water. It can be overtaken if not nurtured. It is a love that satisfies a man’s heart in a unique way. As I look at my life, there’s one love that I have had since childhood. This love began so early, I have no memory of it not existing. What is this love? This love began on the front

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THE TRUE CO$Tof Social Media

Social networking websites have become the common place in today’s generation. There are a plethora of sites such as Myspace, Twitter, and Friendster. One of the most popular social site today is Facebook which has over 500 million active members throughout the world, and to sweeten the deal even more it is totally free to join. Facebook helps you connect with friends and family via Facebook’s website and popular mobile phone application. Facebook helps people stay in touch that normally wouldn’t otherwise. But just as Facebook has a lot of positives, Facebook does have disadvantages and can cause you, the user a lot of problems that you might not realize. Here are just a few of them:

Spam and Scams: This is nothing new if you have been online, but there are a lot of scams on Facebook. There are hackers out there that will steal your login and passwords then offer bogus prizes to your friends like free laptops, phones, vacations etc. If your friends or yourself click on these websites they can steal your bank information or any other important information you might have on your computer. These scams work so well on Facebook because most users have their guard down when they enter the site knowing that they will only be chatting with family and friends. So beware if one of your friends randomly posts something about a great deal they got online. You will naturally want to click the link, but beware-- it could be costly for you.

By Minute Mag Intern (Spring 2011 Semester)

Michelle Johnson

But with all of the negative that goes along with social media websites such as Facebook, there are plenty of benefits to logging on. Facebook is changing the way that we do business in the world. We are now able to connect with others, build relationships in both our personal and professional lives, and

organize our friends and family like never before. Did you know that if If Facebook were a country, it would be the fifth-largest country in the world, after China, India, the US and Indonesia? Facebook has over 350 million active users. More then 35 million users update their status each day, with more than 55 million status updates. A recent survey of 500 top colleges found that 10%

of admissions officers acknowledged looking at social networking sites such as Facebook to evaluate applicants. Thirty-eight percent of admissions officers said that what they saw negatively affected the applicant. Americans spend 13.9 billion minutes a year on Facebook and five billion minutes on MySpace. And social media is changing world politics. In Egypt, largely because of social media, organizers

were able to connect with their peers and organize demonstrations against politicians in power. In the United States, political campaigns are gearing up to include social media. Commerce has caught on to the movement, too. Businesses are using outlets like Facebook, MySpace, and Twitter to keep their customers up to the minute on in-store specials, events, and promos. As we move forward in the new age

social media: the good, the bad, and the downright ugly

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THE TRUE CO$T

You’re Fired: Facebook has ruined professional careers. When you post something online it becomes a record, and it really can’t be deleted. So be careful what you post and share. There have been countless stories of people posting offensive images or racial jokes to their friends online, only to find out at work on Monday morning that they have been fired, suspended, or have to at least make an apology to the offended parties. This same scenario can be applied to someone looking for a job. Many employers are checking Facebook and seeing the type of friends and pictures and comments you post. If you have pictures of yourself doing inappropriate things, such as drinking, it is not going to look to good to your potential future employer. And there’s nothing like Facebook to prove that you’re using your sick days to take the kids to Disneyland.

Your Love Life: With Facebook you can set your status to single, married, in relationship etc. What Facebook didn’t tell you is that when you change your status it will post on your wall, so if your girlfriend or boyfriend, husband or wife breaks up with you, everyone will know, even though you might not want to divulge that information to the world yet. It can be a traumatizing experience, especially if you were never notified by your significant other and found out on Facebook yourself.

Waste of Time: Facebook is very addictive and can be a total time waster. For one week, just try to keep track all of the time you spend on the site and the phone application. People are wasting countless hours on the site, when they could be doing something a lot more productive.

By Minute Mag Intern (Spring 2011 Semester)

Michelle Johnson

Social Media: You can’t live with it, and it’s almost to the point where you can’t live without it. Just remember the good, the bad, and the ugly, and you should do just fine out there in our new, digital society.

of social media, never underestimate the power of the connections that you are making. With a simple tweet or post, you can make new friends or alienate old ones. You can encourage someone that is feeling down, or be taken out of context and make yourself look insensitive. It’s up to you. If the world of social media is your new playground, take it easy until you get the hang of it. But remember, social media isn’t just fun and games. Our young

children are placed in danger when we allow them to play with social media. Internet predators are on the prowl, and it’s your responsibility to keep your children out of harm’s way until they are old enough to defend themselves. Remember to obey the rules of agreement with social media outlets, and never allow strangers to become your friend unless you have a trusted friend in common. And even then, be careful. If you decide to

make the leap and join Facebook, stop by our Minute Magazine fan page and click “like.” There, you’ll find links to our website, photos of past covers and current columnists, and random posts on everything from special offers for Minute Magazine readers to requests for new story ideas. Our current cover model replied to one of our Facebook posts asking for potential cover models

from our readers. Less than a month later, she was ready for her photo shoot and now represents us as a cover model. We’ve given away thousands of dollars worth of gift certificates and merchandise, and along the way we’ve even found new contributors for our writing staff. And guess what-- we’re not the only business out there using social media for promotion. Maybe you should, too.

social media: the good, the bad, and the downright ugly

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====================

Use Your Refund Wisely

====================

So your 1040 is filed and you are now anxiously waiting for your refund. What do you plan on doing with it? Go on that long-awaited cruise, get a new set of golf clubs or buy that widescreen TV you’ve had your eye on? There are so many ways you could spend your refund, but there are other alternatives to consider. According to the Internal Revenue Service, over 75 percent of American taxpayers received a federal tax refund, with the average around $2,500. It’s what you do with your refund now that may create a better financial future for you and your family. Instead of spending your refund this year, consider contributing to an Individual Retirement Account (IRA), setting up a college savings fund for a child, or paying down credit card debt. These options will help improve your financial situation.

First on your list of priorities might be paying down any high-interest credit card debts you have incurred. By paying only the minimum each month, you may be paying just the interest (or less) on the debt and little or nothing towards the principal. Paying down the debt can help free up additional money for other important financial needs.

If debt is not a problem, your tax refund could provide you an excellent opportunity to contribute to an existing IRA or establish a new one. For the 2010 tax year, you can contribute up to $5,000 to an IRA. If you are 50 years or older by December 31, 2010, you can add an additional $1,000 to the account.

Making a tax-deductible contribution to a traditional IRA is an option if you are not participating in an employer-sponsored retirement plan or, if you are participating, your Adjusted Gross Income falls within eligibility guidelines. A Roth IRA may be a better choice, if you are eligible to contribute. Contributions to a Roth IRA are not tax deductible. However, qualified distributions are received free from federal income tax. Your refund could also be used to contribute to your child’s college savings.

There are simple and affordable options you can take advantage of today, including tax-advantaged savings vehicles, to help you reach your college savings goal. One thing to remember after you’ve decided the fate of this year’s refund: the check you received is not a windfall but the return

of an interest-free loan you provided the government. Regardless of the pleasure you may get from receiving a large check each tax year, adjusting the amount withheld by the government to reduce the amount of future refunds may be an appropriate course. You might not get a refund in April, but there may be more money in each paycheck to contribute to a savings account or IRA or pay down debt throughout the year. Take some time to consider your options before making the down payment on that big purchase. The earlier you start saving for your future, the more you may have during your retirement. If you have questions about these options and others, you owe it to yourself to contact a financial services professional that you know and trust. Your financial future may depend on it.

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====================

The Almost Lost Art of Creole Daube

====================

There are some things you remember with startling clarity from childhood, like the time I lost my first tooth and thought I’d be punished so I hid it under a chest of drawers. My uncle later convinced me that I was not going to be punished and it was ok to show the tooth to my dad. He was right. Or the time I clothes pinned washcloths to my sleeves and jumped off the swing set thinking that my new set of wings would help me fly. They didn’t. And then there are some things that are so integral to childhood that you don’t have only one or two memories of them, but rather they’re part of the background in the whole play. Our neighbors were like that. They lived right next door and had 2 kids the same age as

my sister and I. We called them aunt and uncle; our pool was their pool; their basketball hoop was our basketball hoop. I walked into their house as casually as I would walk into my own, without knocking or ringing the bell. The door was always open. It was the same for them at our house too. One of these background memories of childhood is Sunday morning at the neighbor’s house. Southern families usually have the same thing for dinner every Sunday. Whether its homemade fried chicken or roast, it becomes a ritual. You can expect to eat the same dish every week. The neighbors were no exception. For them it was Daube (sounds like robe). Although I knew he called it Daube, I never knew what it was or even how to spell it until a couple of months ago when I got curious and did some online research. Every Sunday morning, Uncle Tony would get up at the ungodly hour of 4 or 5 in the morning and start the preparations. It will forever be a mystery to me why he started cooking as early as he did, especially since the Daube was always ready to eat by the time my mom wandered over there for coffee at 9 or 10 in the morning. Rest

assured, you will not need to get up that early. Here’s what I learned from my research, Daube or in this case, Creole Daube is a classic combination or French and Italian cuisine. When settling New Orleans, the French brought over Daube, which is a braised beef roast, and the Italians added tomato paste. It’s basically a beef roast in red gravy and can be served over anything from spaghetti to mashed potatoes. That was how Uncle Tony always served it. Also from my research, I have discovered that it’s one of those old-school New Orleans dishes that are slowly being forgotten. Certainly most of my co-workers had no idea what it was. Let me state for the record that this is not Uncle Tony’s recipe. Since he refuses to share it, I had to combine a few different recipes from the internet in my attempt to match that flavor. This is my interpretation which substitutes beef stock for red wine.

Ingredients:

3-4 lb beef roast1 large onion,1 bell

pepper, 2 stalks of celery (all chopped)

10 cloves garlic: 3

slivered, the rest minced (Use more or less garlic to

suit your taste) 1 6-oz can tomato paste

(Use whatever flavor suits your preferences) 1 8-oz can tomato sauce (Again, use

whatever flavor suits your preferences)

1 14.5-oz can beef broth2 tbsp olive oil Pinch of sugar

Spices: Italian seasoning, cayenne, creole

seasoning, salt & pepper all to taste.

Directions:

Cut small slits in various places all over the roast and insert slivers of garlic. Rub salt, pepper and creole seasoning all over roast. In a large dutch oven or a large heavy pot with a lid, heat oil over medium high heat and brown roast on all sides. Remove roast and set aside. Do not drain the oil. Now In the same pot, sauté the onions, bell pepper and celery for a few minutes. Stir to scrap up all the meat bits from the bottom of the pot. Once soft, add minced garlic and sauté a few more minutes until soft.

Add the tomato paste and sauté until the paste turns an almost brown color. Frying the tomato paste in this way adds a distinctive taste to the final dish. Now add the tomato sauce, beef broth, sugar, Italian seasoning, cayenne, salt, and pepper. Stir well and return roast to the pot. Turn burner to low, cover and simmer for 4 hours or until the roast is tender and falling apart. Stir occasionally and turn roast over about halfway into the cooking process. Serve over spaghetti or mashed potatoes.

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====================

Social Cues====================

Of all the things I imagined I would have to teach my child, how to talk to kids his own age wasn’t one of them. One of the biggest issues facing people with Asperger Syndrome is reading and understanding social cues. These cues include anything from tone of voice to body language. Subtle changes in facial expression are lost on them, a friendly clap on the back can be mistaken for aggression, or they take sarcasm seriously.

My asked me recently, “What’s ‘hanging out’ mean?” I find myself in the unique position of trying to explain “hanging out” and why people do it. It wasn’t the only time I found myself trying to explain the alien behavior of the people around him.

I’ve had to correct his use of words that others have told him mean something incorrect. I’ve had to act unsurprised on the outside while reeling with shock inwardly at his naivety about the inappropriateness of things people have talked him into doing. I’ve had to console him when he realized that someone he thought was his friend was only coming over to steal his video games.

Over time, I learned about using social stories to teach the lessons the rest of us take for granted. Social stories can teach a child just about anything he would normally pick up in regular interaction with other kids. Since social interaction was almost nonexistent for my child, he did not pick these things up. He does not know how to greet another person appropriately. Until just this year, his standard greeting would be, “Hi, I’m Trent. What operating system do you use?” While most adults and just about every child he encountered stared at him blankly,

I would find myself explaining that kids with Asperger’s have a particular obsession; his is computers, and he wanted to know what kind of

computer software people used. We have worked on this particular skill since he was able to talk, and, after twelve years, he’s finally getting it.

Children with Asperger Syndrome cannot read the facial expressions of others, nor do they know how to use their own face to express emotions. The result of this is sometimes a very monotone voice with a flat look that may come across as disconnected. The truth is these kids very much want to be part of what their typically developing peers are doing.

My son tells me that his favorite thing about talking to people is, “When they listen and when they say what they mean.” He prefers people to say exactly what is on their minds. He is also adamant that people not give him generalizations, such as, “in a little while,” or “later today.” He will press for a specific time, and, while this can be a good thing at times, it can also end badly when you don’t do what you are supposed to at exactly the time you said.He has learned to ask people what is on their minds when he isn’t sure.

If there is a long silence in conversation, or if he catches himself in a monologue instead of in dialogue with another person, he will ask, “Are you interested in what I’m saying?” When we talk to people, usually, we can tell by their body language that they are losing interest with the conversation. Not so with people who have Asperger’s. They can learn to read these cues, but it is difficult for them, and it takes years of practice to master.

My son’s school has set up a peer support group for him. These kids are there to help him understand pragmatics, or social language. Kids have their own unique way of talking to one another. Imagine if you are submerged every day among people, and everything you hear them say is like being in a foreign country where you don’t speak the language. This can cause acute frustration just making it through a school day.

The resulting anger, frustration, sadness and alienation can manifest itself in behaviors such as yelling out, saying inappropriate things, emotional outbursts and not making any friends.

Of course, at times, my son likes to retreat into his own world. He is obsessed with computers and electronics of any kind. When I don’t understand how he can spend so much time researching how many terabytes are in a gigabyte, he’s content to explain by telling me, “It’s an Aspie thing, Mom.”

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the Legacies of Home

Enjoy your own “thrill of the hunt!” Discover SMITH MASON LEGACIES for yourself at 189 East Kings Highway. Visit them online at www.smithmasonlegacies.com, For email inquiries: inquiries@smithmasonlegacies.com. Call Ky Mason and Kathy Smith today at 318-670-8888 or 318-218-9897.

written byKY MASON

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the Legacies of HomeSo many pleasures of our Southern way of life involve magical journeys recalling our past. Going to an “ol’ home place”, remembering trips to our cousins’ and aunts’ and uncles’, and grandparents’ homes - - all the sights and smells - - from the simple memory of food cooking in their loved-filled kitchen air, to seeing the chair long admired that had been handed down from great-grandfather to grandfather to son and, maybe now, to you!

Something in those experiences reminds me of some lyrics from quite a ways back, a song my Dad wrote:

Momma’s cookin’ in the kitchen, Pappy’s sitting on the gallery talkin’ ‘bout the war, you can have the lights of Broadway to the sidewalks of New York, give me my Louisiana home.

The sentiments that prompted my Daddy gentleman, in his seersucker suit and white suede buck shoes, to write that song are the sentiments that guide the adventure today known as Smith Mason Legacies. It’s all about the passions and pleasures of discovering things that we want to be an integral part of our aesthetic psyche: things we come to love in the spaces where we live and work, surprise buys that give us a bit of “joie de vivre” in the places where we spend the most time, things that “speak to us”, and also say quite a lot about us to our friends and visitors as they spend time looking at the décor and colors and storytellers of furnishings that we bring into our inner circle of living. We value the explorers who first discovered the places we call home. We find intrigue in exciting announcements when people from all over the world unearth and share as “new finds” with old history! And, we, as good Southern folk do, almost always find time to zoom over to an estate sale, spend a whole afternoon in a favorite antique shop, or take a weekend road trip to an outdoor market where treasures from the past reach out to us to take us home like a new doggie in the window. Heck, there are even TV shows that lure us with wanton calling when we’re home in bed relaxing: “Antiques Roadshow”, “American Picker”, “Auction Kings”. There’s even a whole channel called “Discovery” to satisfy our desire to learn about cool stuff around us!

Here’s what my partner, Kathy Smith, and I discovered when we came home to Shreveport, after living and working in Dallas and New Orleans for twenty something years:I found out Kathy’s treasure of true calling, beyond the traditional luxury her retail experience at Neiman’s and Barneys, through watching her transpose home after home after home (and her own, in between) into modern day luxury spaces with every reusable, repurposed piece available right here!

Kathy found out that there is nothing that makes me happier than writing about my gazillion interests and causes, and then digging and researching and developing the perfect graphics to go with the words!

We discovered, together, that her expanse of imagination when it comes to spatial design, interior accents, fabrics and colors is a perfect match to my passion for history, the fine arts, advertising, and communications. And, most important of all, we came to realize our common belief that manifesting dreams (even when it sometimes means very diligent follow-through) actualizes in our lives far too often not to make it a habit. That philosophy took us on the leap of faith that brings our business, Smith Mason Legacies, all together every single day. It is one of those times when caution to the wind whispered “throw me” and the “knowing” of success prompted a leap real high; yes, even into a flailing economy.

Then came the treasures of friends, new and old, who have been ever ready to jump in to help make dreams come true: our favorite estate expert friend always quick with an idea and a boot to kick us into action, a neighbor who joined our team to fill in every gap in the “to do” list, the most brilliant and sincere colleagues who offer wisdom, party planning, and even enough fine wine and hors d’oeuvres to entertain 100 prospective collectors, our families who jump in when they can, our chic and brilliant buddy from L.A. who came all that way just to help us out for a few months, and the best regular patrons anyone could ask for, who constantly show up with their friends to show off our shop! There was a need for a place like Smith Mason Legacies – a place for collectors, antique hunters, and legacy lovers. We are answering that need by over-delivering the best values for fascinating, beautiful, history-filled, legacy-rich accents and gifts. We make it our priority to provide a marvelously warm and inviting place where the genteel service we grew up with joins with a smile and a handshake for all who come to see.

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SMITH MASON LEGACIES offers Art – from Picasso to Jimmy Lee Sudduth, Miro to Missionary Mary Proctor, Chagall to Max, Franck de las Mercedes to Al Hirschfeld; Antiques – religious relics from Russia to Italy, Louis XIV to XVI to Queen Anne, modern to very old Spanish, fine Oriental to industrial and reclaimed Architecturals – more than 40 sets of hand-carved wooden doors from across the world, hundreds of columns from 100-450 years old, gothic windows, copper dormers; Accents & Gifts – mirrors, signed books and old manuscripts, hand-hewn pens and bowls of precious woods, jewelry, tortoise-shell cases, precious deer mounts, candlesticks, candelabras and lamps.

Partners Ky Mason and Kathy Smith aren’t simply sitting back and waiting for their dreams to come true.

They’re chasing after those dreams, one legacy at a time.

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Through three decades in police work, I’ve collected a host of memories. The twisted wreckage of smashed cars—tangled bodies smelling of blood and beer—sticks with you a long time. You never forget the death and the pain. But happy memories abound as well. Like the silly practical jokes officers play on one another. The crazy things people do that only cops on the streets at 2:00 a.m. see. Or the time Bob Hope went on patrol with me. Bob Hope. Star of vaudeville and the Broadway stage. Singer. Dancer. Author. Radio, movie and television star. Comedian extraordinaire. Philanthropist. American patriot. Yes, that Bob Hope.

No one had entertained more people through every imaginable medium than Bob Hope. Rising from vaudeville actor sharing the stage with barking seals and dancing Siamese twins, Hope became one of the best known, most beloved entertainers in the world. Besides dozens of movies, his numerous television specials and USO tours of military bases endeared him to millions of Americans. In 1985, police officers didn’t make much money. You worked all the overtime you could finagle and spent frugally. Otherwise, you ran the risk of the proverbial “too much week left at the end of the money.” So when I heard Bob Hope would be performing at Louisiana Tech, my alma mater in my hometown where I worked as a police officer, the debate with myself over buying tickets was a brief one. I couldn’t afford them. A friend who was going said he would snap some photos. I would read about the show in the morning paper. I worked nearly every weekend night that year on a special DWI overtime patrol. I rode a desk Monday through Friday, handling officer training and dealing with the news media. The Friday and Saturday night patrol was one of the few opportunities to get back in the field for some extra pay. While Bob Hope was on the stage at Louisiana Tech delivering jokes, I would be prowling the pavements for drunk drivers.

ON PATROL WITH BOB HOPE…A local cop takes

the Entertainer of

the Century

for a ride.

written by Wesley Harris

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At 10:00 p.m., November 1, 1985, I hit the streets, focusing on the cars. Bob Hope was far from my mind as I concentrated on the job at hand. Traffic was light, the bars hosted scant crowds and it looked to be one of those rare nights when everyone behaves. Not long into my shift, my headlights caught an elderly man walking briskly along the darkened service road paralleling the Interstate. A younger woman trailed steps behind him. Ten yards behind her was Officer Jessie Winzer, a young cop I had helped train. He was trotting to catch up with the others. Recognition and understanding came instantly. Bob Hope had left the only decent motel in Ruston and was taking a moonlit stroll. Or jog, may have been more accurate. And Jessie Winzer was apparently working overtime as his bodyguard. I braked quickly, made a U-turn, and pulled up beside the rookie cop. “What’s happening, Jessie?” “We’re going to McDonald’s, I think,” he panted. Jessie helped lead the 1982 Ruston High Bearcats to an undefeated season and the state football championship. Short, compact and quick, as a halfback Jessie could literally hide behind his linemen until a hole opened up for him to scamper down the field. An excellent police officer, he would eventually become one of the best. I don’t want to give the impression that Jessie was out of shape. Hope got a head start on him and with Jessie impeded by twenty pounds of police gear, the 82-year old comedian was giving him a run for his money. “Get in the back,” I ordered. “We’ll see if he wants to ride.” Jessie climbed behind the black steel mesh screen used to keep prisoners from jumping on my back and off we went after his quarry. I passed the young woman and pulled up beside the Entertainer of the Century. “Hello. Would you like to ride?” “Sure,” he said, as he glanced at my cluttered front seat and squinted into the darkness of the caged back seat. I scooped up my briefcase hurriedly to make room. “Bob, you get up front. I’ll sit back here.” The woman had caught up and was climbing in with Jessie. With our passengers secured, we were off. “Were you headed to McDonald’s?” I asked. It was the only logical destination. “Yes,” Hope smiled. “Debbie and I were craving some ice cream.” “Debbie” was Debbie Worley, a 1971 Miss America pageant first runner-up who was touring college campuses with Hope, he explained, warming up the audiences with her singing. “Wish I could have made the show tonight,” I remarked. “Had to work. I’m on DWI patrol but it’s been quiet so far.” Bob Hope smiled again and Worley asked him a question about the next day’s agenda. “Do you want to use the drive-through or go inside?” I asked, wondering if he tried to avoid public places. “We’ll go inside.” Within seconds of entering the restaurant, the swarm descended. People flew to Hope, asking for autographs and posing for photos. I debated swatting them away but the comedian patiently signed French fry-stained napkins and shook hands. He finally got close enough to the counter to order a strawberry sundae. Hope eventually tore himself away from the crowd. Jessie and I acted as a discreet blocking force to get the stars back to the patrol car. “Anywhere else you need to go, Mr. Hope?” I asked.

“No. We have to get up early.” Not that there were many other places to go that time of night in Ruston. “Aw,” I said in mock disappointment. “I thought you would help me catch a drunk.” He smiled and I was halfway expecting a snappy one-liner but it didn’t come. I guess he saved those for the paying customers. On the way back to the motel, I remembered my camera in the briefcase. “Do you mind if we take a picture when we get back?” “I would be glad to.” Back at the motel, Debbie offered to take the photograph with Jessie and me flanking Bob. We exchanged good nights and handshakes and Bob and Debbie departed to their rooms. Jessie and I stood outside for awhile. He wore his perpetual grin while I savored what had just happened. A man adored by millions had patrolled the streets with me. Well, maybe for only a total of four blocks but I was on patrol and Bob Hope was riding shotgun. “Hey, I’ll get you an enlargement of the picture,” I told Jessie. “Okay,” he replied with mild disinterest. The next morning, I dropped off the film to be processed. My mother called and said she had something for me. I stopped by the restaurant where she worked as a hostess at the same motel where Bob Hope had stayed the night before. “I got this for you this morning,” she said, handing over a ticket torn from a waitress’s order pad. It was signed “Bob Hope.” “He had coffee here before leaving for the airport,” she explained. With an autograph and a photo, I thought how nice it would be to have the photo of Jessie and me signed by the legendary entertainer. At 21, my brother already possessed an extensive collection of celebrity autographs. I dropped by his house and asked how I could make that happen. Thumbing through a stack of materials, he found a list with Hope’s address in Palm Springs. “You have a chance of getting it back,” he ventured. “Hope’s supposed to be better than most stars in dealing with fans. But he also gets more requests than most.” “Send a stamped envelope with it,” he said. “Better chance of getting it back. But don’t be surprised if you get a secretary’s signature,” he warned. Some weeks passed and I had all but forgotten Bob Hope and the photographs when my self-addressed and stamped envelope returned in the mail. Quickly tearing it open, I found the photographs. Mine was inscribed, “To Sgt. Wesley Harris. Thanks for the memory. My best, Bob Hope.” I tracked down my brother who had recently acquired a collector’s magazine featuring an article on distinguishing genuine Bob Hope autographs from fakes and secretarial signatures. Comparing the photos to the article and our mother’s in-person acquisition, he announced them authentic. At work, I presented Jessie Winzer with his inscribed photo. “Here, Jessie. Something you can share with your kids one day.” He accepted with quiet thanks but obviously without my enthusiasm for the keepsake. Back in the locker room with his eight-by-ten, Jessie cornered another officer, one of his high school teammates. “Who is Bob Hope?” he asked. I’m not sure how that question was answered but

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Jessie never brought up Bob Hope to me. Only then did I realize an entire generation had already missed out on the likes of Fred Astaire, Katharine Hepburn, Louis Armstrong, Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis, Jr. and other masters of their crafts. The Now Generation believed the world started and ended with them and yesterday was ancient history. Nothing from the past could be better than that of the present. Ten years later, while attending a police training course in Orlando, Florida, I learned Bob Hope was scheduled to be at Walt Disney World. He was signing his latest book, “Dear Prez, I Wanna Tell Ya!,” a comedic look at his interactions with Presidents from Franklin Roosevelt to Bill Clinton. By the time I got out of class and made it to Disney, the meandering queue snaked out of the bookstore and through the bustling theme park. I took my place in line and at a snail’s pace moved along. Unfamiliar with book signings, I had no means to gauge how quickly the column would progress. Could he possibly sign books for this many people in the allotted two hours for the event? The ending time came and I was still forty yards from the bookstore. I heard a cheer come up and spotted Hope leaving the store and climbing into a golf cart. The driver slowly made his way along the line as Hope waved and smiled. Someone shouted, “Thanks for the memories, Bob,” alluding to Hope’s signature tune. “Yeah!” Hope replied, waving to the crowd. A Disney employee followed, assuring us there were plenty of signed books available but Mr. Hope had to leave. I bought my book but missed the chance to shake his hand one more time. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences never saw fit to nominate Bob Hope for an Oscar for his movies, although it did present him honorary and humanitarian awards. His longtime sidekick Bing Crosby garnered a Best Actor Oscar in 1944. Hope hosted the Academy Awards ceremony eighteen times and feigned lust for an Oscar became part of his routine. Introducing the 1968 Oscar telecast, he joked, “Welcome to the Academy Awards, or, as it’s known at my house, Passover.” After the Orlando trip, I wrote the Academy suggesting it honor Bob Hope as “Entertainer of the Century.” I spent days on the letter, carefully crafting it to express what Hope had meant to millions of Americans. No one had entertained more people in more ways for as long as Bob Hope. His seventy years in show business deserved an unprecedented honor. I received a nice letter in return from the Academy president acknowledging Hope’s distinguished career. Bob had received scores of awards over the years, he wrote, and didn’t need one more to realize how much people appreciated him. I was disappointed. Bob Hope was an American institution. He delivered a little bit of home to lonely troops stationed around the world. He gave millions to charity. He made us laugh. Bob Hope lived to be 100 years old, telling his last joke in 2003. His longevity provides more evidence that laughter is indeed the best medicine. Thanks for the memories, Mr. Hope.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------Ruston native Wesley Harris has published GREETINGS FROM RUSTON: A Post Card History of Ruston, Louisiana, available on Amazon.com. Email West at campruston@gmail.com, or visit him online at http://diggingthepast.blogspot.com.

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====================

Woman: Life, Love and Charity

====================

One of my favorite authors is the great C.S. Lewis. I’ve read many of his books. His stories, such as The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe are classics that should be on everyone’s reading list. Undergirding his creative and otherworldly stories is a thinking man’s theology. While I adore his storytelling in The Chronicles of Narnia, it is actually some of his other writings which unravel the inner workings of man that intrigue me the most. One of my latest reads, Lewis’ book The Four Loves, is particularly challenging and wonderful. And deep within this book, I found truth about the loves in my life. Lewis breaks down love into four different kinds: Affection, Friendship, Eros, and Charity. Affection, Lewis states, is “the love in which our experience seems to differ the least from that of the animals.” This is the kind of love that a mother has for a child and a child for a parent. I gaze upon

my two precious children and I know this kind of love so well. I am amazed at how deep and wide my love for them can be. This is a love of sacrifice, a love where the welfare of another comes before one’s own basic survival instinct. Friendship is a love most overlooked and undervalued in our culture. It is a camaraderie that is built through the shared ups and downs of life. As one of my dear friends says, “It’s about doing life together.” Eros is the passionate love. It goes far beyond the physical bond that can occur between a husband and a wife. I love Lewis’ words on this subject. He says, “Eros makes a man really want, not a woman, but one particular woman. In some mysterious but quite indisputable fashion the lover desires the Beloved herself, not the pleasure she can give.” [All well-intentioned Hallmark card writers should take note of that one.] Then there is Charity. Charity is different from the others. It is a cultivated love. Lewis spends several pages in his book describing this kind of love as a garden. It is a love that must be tended, weeded, fertilized. It needs sun and water. It can be overtaken if not nurtured. It is a love that satisfies a man’s heart in a unique way.

As I look at my life, there’s one love that I have had since childhood. This love began so early, I have no memory of it not existing. What is this love? This love began on the front pew at church. Sunday after Sunday, I watched my mother’s fingers glide over the black and white of the piano keys producing sounds of praise to a God she adored. It was here...among the pews and practice...that my love affair with music began. My connection with the piano was instant. I liked it. It liked me. We rolled through every event and competition in the first year with ease. There wasn’t a song that I didn’t memorize on the first day of practice after my lesson. I just couldn’t get enough of the music. The love affair with music grew as I did. It branched into other

musical expressions like flute, accompanying and choral music. As an adult, I found myself singing in the choir at Camelback Bible Church in Phoenix, Arizona. It was there that I finally came to grips with my love affair. Until that point, my love for music was one of the strongest influencers of my life, and it stole part of my heart. However, as my passion for music expressed my love for my Savior, my heart leaped with joy. The love affair was no longer with the music. Instead, it was wrapped around Charity. This, my friends, was an “Aha!” moment for me. The light bulb came on, and I finally understood where my love for music fit into these four loves. So how to avoid the heartbreak of any of the four loves? Lewis says that this “is why it is of such extreme importance so to order our loves.” Order our loves? Yes, order our loves. There is not true happiness in any thing, any person, not even in the greatest expression of your passion (like my music). Happiness and satisfaction in my soul comes only when my eyes stay on Him, the creator and sustainer of my faith, and when each of my loves comes in priority behind Him. Through His love, I find love to give...Affection, Friendship, Eros, and Charity.

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