Amtrak's Scenic Journey: Speeding Along Lake Pontchartrain to Slidell

Experience the captivating speed of Amtrak's Crescent along Lake Pontchartrain to Slidell in a fast-action video journey.

As the morning sun casts its golden hues over Lake Pontchartrain, the Amtrak Crescent (Train #20) embarks on a mesmerizing journey. The scene unfolds in a captivating fast-action video, where the train, a silver streak, hugs the lake's edge on its route to Slidell, Louisiana.

The video is a vibrant dance of motion and stillness. Lake Pontchartrain lies serene, a vast expanse of tranquility, contrasting with the train's brisk pace. Through the lens of an iPhone's fast-action feature, viewers are transported into a world where time seems to bend — the train speeds along, yet the lake's gentle ripples move languidly, untouched by the rush.

This juxtaposition offers a unique perspective on travel and nature's calm. It's a reminder of the fleeting moments we often overlook in our fast-paced lives. As educators, we can use this video to inspire discussions about the beauty of nature, the marvels of modern transportation, and the importance of mindfulness in appreciating our surroundings.

This journey along Lake Pontchartrain, a natural treasure of Louisiana, becomes more than just a route; it transforms into a visual poem, celebrating the harmony between man-made wonders and the grace of the natural world.

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Eating a Beignet in New Orleans: Classic Portrait Photography

A photo of a cousin’s friend eating a beignet at the Café du Monde in the old casino building in New Orleans’s City Park.

I was home for the Summer. We went to the Café du Monde in City Park 🌃. A kid eats a beignet with glee. One rule when eating a New Orleans-style powdered fried cake - always eat it with glee.

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Throwback Thursday: Family Vacation Photograph from A July Summer of 1984 Trip to Destin, Florida

My Brother (to the right) and I in Destin, Florida circa July 1984

Somewhere in the 1980s, my parents made me wear floaties as I learned to swim. Read more about it right here, on my writer's blog Stones of Erasmus!

It's funny how memory works. You think you remember it just as it happened. It ain't so. For example, I remember sitting on a hotel bed in Florida eating Pringles with my younger brother - wearing floaties.

That's pretty much how it went down for the "Roselli - July 1984" beach vacation. Except I was eating Planters brand cocktail peanuts - and that's my older brother in the photograph, not my younger sibling. And look. He's attempting to give me bunny ears. I'm clueless.

Mom says we jumped on the bed. But there's no photograph of that.

And no one can confirm it's Destin. But I don't care. I'd like to think that there's a six-year old me floating in some beachside pool in Destin - the State-of-everlasting-beach-vacations, Florida.

And ohhhh. I found the floaties. And look at me chomping on those Sour Cream and Onion Ruffles brand potato chips.

Wear Your Floaties!

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Transcript of a Dream (from Beijing)

In my dreams, I heard the thumping of feet and I thought it was the sound of my feckless roommate thumping towards the bathroom to puke but it wasn't my roommate thumping.

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"On Evil" - A Brief Reflection on Theodicy

I am not sure how I first became interested in evil. Maybe it was the repetition of the line in grade school from the Lord's Prayer, "deliver us from evil," that first alerted me to the concept. Evil - at least how I conceived the concept then - was something akin to supernatural power. Like a demon with wings. Or a nebulous force á la Freddy Krueger tearing away carpet and bedding (cum bodies) in horror movies. Certainly evil is akin to horror. However, I probably was propping up evil with dramatic flair by honing my focus on demons —  and by contrast, the good on angels. If there are demons, or so my logic foretold - there must be angels.

Family Photograph: Throwback to A New Orleans Mardi Gras from the 1990s

I really like Mardi Gras. Even when I was thirteen. Throwback post to that time I went to "all dem parades" for Mardi Gras back in 1993.

For many years as a kid, I would go with my family 

to the "truck parade" on Mardi Gras day on Veterans

Highway in Jefferson Parish, Louisiana. 

I wanted to save this post for actual Mardi Gras - but, heck, it's kinda too funny to wait - and I'm impatient.

For me, New Orleans Mardi Gras wasn't really celebrated in New Orleans. We went to Jefferson Parish, secured a spot on Veterans Highway in Metairie, a few miles west of the Orleans Parish line.

On this strip of highway, folks set up ladders on the neutral ground (the grassy median). We got there early, lugged ice chests filled with sandwiches, cola, and liquor (for the adults).

In the Metairie version of Mardi Gras, the first parade is run by the Krewe of Argus (compared to the Krewe of Rex which runs on Saint Charles in New Orleans). Argus is an interesting choice for a Mardi Gras pleasure krewe. Argus is the mythological creature with a thousand eyes - so he can sleep but keeps several eyes open. The signature Argus float is spectacular in my memory - a bust of the many-eyed giant flanked by papier-maché peacocks.

Maybe I caught the undies and bra at Argus? I don't remember.

In the photo, we're waiting for the truck parade. It rolls immediately after the Krewe of Argus. The trucks number in the low hundreds. They're eighteen-wheeler cabs affixed to a flatbed converted into a Mardi Gras float.

Maybe I got the wig from home? I'm not sure - but judging from this picture it was one helluva Mardi Gras in Metairie, Louisiana.

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Throwback Thursday: Flour Babies

Back in the mid-nineties - hell, it probably still happens - our public middle school in Saint Tammany Parish Louisiana conducted a program meant to curb teenage pregnancy.

The program was called Flour Babies. Every kid in our Seventh Grade class bought a six-pound bag of flour from the grocery store, we dressed it up to look like a boy or a girl and propped a head on it. I guess we gave it a name.

We carried the flour baby with us everywhere we went. We took it to class, brought it home with us, and made sure we didn't leave it behind.

Leaving behind your flour baby was tantamount to committing childhood neglect - I think kids who left it on the bus or in homeroom had to endure after school suspension. Or maybe they were told, "Don't have kids."

Here are two photos from my flour baby days:

I hold onto my flour baby like it's my own dear baby, baby.

Younger brother and Mom pose with the flour baby.

Did you have a flour baby growing up? I'd love to hear about it.

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