A warrior from the highlands of New Guinea
New Orleans is a "Party" town. And masquerade is the preferable mode. I would love to see the guy brave enough to wear this to the Christmas party!
And better yet ... I'd like to see the girl drunk enough to ask for a dance!
(I think that those little tassels are to prevent you from poking your eye out!)
WOW! Wouldn't I look cool, all dressed up and wearing a straw boater, tooling this around the city on a summer Sunday! I'd be frightened half to death to drive it on the streets with some of the yahoos we have on the road. I wonder how many of my kids I would have traded for it? (just kidding ... maybe)
This picture tells a huge story ... A story of 400 plus years ... a story of the lives of many generations in a struggle for dignity, decency, and justice. A personal story of my forefathers clearing land with axes and their bare hands and of the women by their sides in the wilds of swampy Louisiana. A story of a quest to be free from the tyranny of noble and serf. One of my Grandfathers left La Rochelle France with a new bride in 1612 to come here and help carve out the freedom he and she were seeking. And my story is only one of millions that were given hope by this new land. It wasn't the USA then ... it was just a new opportunity to correct the long endured injustices of the dark ages of Europe. Through many trials, tribulations, wars and other skulduggery, this part of the new world became the USA. It was a place of mixed blessings, but its opportunity was a shinning light for the rest of the world. I contributed to this land and also received some of its blessings. At a time not long ago, that discarded little flag would have made me sad. Now we are changed to a nation which is entirely different from the vision of my youth. Among the many changes toward a police state and a new dark age, we declare war pre-emptively, we allow torture like the Spanish Inquisition, and no citizen has any freedom from surveillance of our government. It is with regret for my children and everyones children, that I have now determined that our flag is best put among the dying leaves of a life that has been. Gone with the wind ...
These guys can cause all kinds of havoc in the bayous. Sometimes one will be sunning itself half asleep and not see you if you happen to row too close or not see it. Then when it is suddenly aware of you, it will frighten you half to death with great thrashing and flailing its tail as it scrambles to get away from you. You should see the roiled water as half a ton of alligator disappears sometimes passing under your boat. I've been known to paddle fairly swiftly during these occasions.
The word "alligator" is an American bastardization of the Spanish "El Lagarto" (the lizard)
A classic ChrisCraft power boat. They were extremely popular in the 1950's, but are getting scarce now. Their prices in restored condition reflect their timeless appeal to water buffs. (I'd take one for drives on Lake Ponchartrain on summer evenings)
Now, when I return to earth for my second life or whatever, I'm going to become an influential person and the first law that I will pass will be that derelict boats will have to be removed from beaches and waterways and properly destroyed. Hoorah for me!
Far away places with strange sounding names
Far away over the sea
Far away places with strange sounding names
Keep calling, calling me
All night pig roast. Called a "Cochon de Lait" in Cajun. (roasted suckling pig) I have spent many all night revelries with my brothers and sisters arguing politics, telling jokes, drinking beer, and having memorable times while cooking a pig. This is a photo of the last one we cooked in my brothers back yard.
Here is a little 5 foot alligator which was trying to eat my cork on our last fishing trip.
Some of our friends enjoying a day paddling in the bayous. They are in one of my little "Cajun" boats.
The White Cliffs of Dover ... a welcome sight for returning airmen in World War II and the theme of a very famous wartime songstress named Vera Lynn.
Photo of the bayou taken while fishing last Friday evening.
Most people don't realize just how huge a modern ship can be ... here is the underside of one in dry-dock. Look at the size of the man in the red hard hat near the forward starboard propeller.
"In those Oklahoma hills where I was born" Modern young people have no concept of the poverty endured and the courage it took to rise up from dirt floors, barefoot, and one suit of clothes in taters, but Woodie told the story for posterity.
Some more of my little South American children.
I am always drawn to this mans work. He had an eye for the reflections of light like no other.