Visiting the South has become some what of an annual routine. Jo, my sister, and her family all live in Louisiana, most of them just outside New Orleans.

New Orleans 

“We are not going across the river, it’s too dangerous.” This was one of Jo’s opening statements. I am familiar with the “Big Easy” and wanted to suggest visiting Cafe Du Monde, but I knew it was out of the question. New Orleans is suffering the same fate of all cities ruined by liberal politicians.

I could not believe how the homeless population has expanded all around the Superdome. To my surprise, the displaced have been given  nice tents because, as in all cities where this  problem is out of control, temporary assistance is used  like a large bandage to keep the embarrassment at bay. It never works! Not in New Orleans, Los Angeles, San Francisco or any other cities that are suffering from this not-so-silent takeover.

Water Under The Bridge

With the scorching weather and the humidity in this region, a large majority of the homeless population live under the bridge on Highway 90. There are no quick fixes for this growing problem; it continues to metastasize and create citizens who have mastered the art of helplessness. There are so many other issues that come with the tent cities that have been created. Litter seems to be one of the biggest ongoing problems. This particular pollution has created a workforce to sanitize the streets, and we all know that the tax payers will foot the bill for this expense. The more money cities invest in improving this situation, the worse it becomes. The collapse of New Orleans is looked on as water under the bridge.

The West Bank

Jo lives in the city of Harvey, which is located in the West Bank. The people here are a different breed; they ooze with charm. They are not putting on an act; being kind and charming comes naturally for them. “Hi, Miss Jo,” is a common greeting, always followed by a hug.  Even Antoine, a homeless man my sister helps on a regular basis, is humble and charming.

All four of our nephews were raised with Southern hospitality running through their veins.

The Restaurants

I get a little offended when people tell me, “Let me order for you.” They do this because I always order the wrong meal. Many of the restaurants in the West Bank are family-owned-and -operated businesses. So even with my reputation for ordering the wrong meal, I was never disappointed. The Italian, Thai, and American restaurants were absolutely delightful.

The Bar

Jo has owned and operated a bar in the West Bank for over 30 years. Each morning she needs to restock her beer and clean up the place. Her help was on vacation, so my sister Norma and I helped with this responsibility. My job was restocking the beer. Believe it or not, I have never drank a beer in my life! It was an easy discovery that Budweiser was the lowest-selling beer in the inventory.

My sister Jo is the most generous person. She insisted on paying us for our labor ( 30 minutes a day). I will use my hard- earned-money to purchase school supplies to fill backpacks, a  project I share with my family.

Shotgun Homes

Jo purchased a home and entirely gutted it. Her shotgun bungalow is perfect for her needs. These quaint homes are common in this area. The shotgun home got its name because you could shoot a shotgun straight through from the front door through the back door. Both Norma and I were fascinated by the unique style of these homes, some more charming than others.

Mass

We attended Mass on Sunday. This was the same church where Rocky, Jo’s son, and Angela were recently married. After fulfilling our holy day of obligation we  crossed the river over to Metairie and ate breakfast at the Ruby Slipper. In our family we have no boundaries on religious or political conversations.

Being Catholic

In all fairness to those who have been hurt by individuals in the Catholic church, I have compassion for their pain. Though this subject is an uncomfortable matter that has caused many good Catholics to question their faith or go astray, I will continue my journey in life as a Catholic.

During this trip I racked up a slew of venial sins: I spoke too harshly, offered unwelcome opinions and perhaps stepped on a few toes. I can repair all the damage by apologizing but I must also go to confession to remove the guilt. As I tried to express the importance of going to confession, I felt that it was not my responsibility to lead others to do this; instead  allow the Lord to guide them.

Being absolved of sin brings peace and keeps you connected and accountable to God. It’s like a private conversation between you and your Heavenly Father. The priest guides us into the direction of a road well traveled: forgiveness.  We are freed of sin and our conscience is once again cleansed.

This morning I was able to make a confession, I praise God for this wonderful Sacrament.

My Prayer

Dear Lord, I pray for all Catholics who are questioning their direction to seek You for answers. Lord, unite all Christians to understand the great love You have for us all. Teach us to speak when necessary  and to always use kind words of wisdom. Amen.

I have driven to Los Angeles International Airport (LAX) three times this summer. As a favor to a dear friend I took sweet Ann, who was traveling on a pilgrimage to France, to LAX.  Since Ann was also our house guest, we both had to get up at the crack of dawn in order for her to catch her 7:00 a.m. flight.

Sonja’s Family

Sonja booked a crazy flight on Sun Country. Have you ever heard of this airline? Me neither. It shares the same terminal as Southwest. Sonja’s family flight was scheduled to depart at 10:45 p.m., so I suggested we leave for the airport at seven-thirty.

On the way there, I thought to myself, “What if I fall asleep on the drive home?” Then I made a loud announcement, “We need to stop and get coffee so that I don’t fall asleep!” After all we were way ahead of schedule, so I got my coffee fix and $18 later we were on a sugar high.

Sepulveda Off Ramp

It was Sunday, July 2nd, the day the entire world decided to take a flight out of LAX. We exited on to Sepulveda Boulevard only to discover that  the tunnel leading to LAX was in a serious gridlock. What should have taken five minutes took over 45 minutes. It was torture! We all commented on the lone white tennis shoe on the side of the rode because we were going stir crazy. By the time we reached the terminal they were in panic mode. Not me, I was all wired up and ready for the drive home.

I’m not sure, but it seems that I ran a red light at LAX. It was a side way light that popped out of nowhere. I got plenty of honks and it must have ruffled a few feathers. I thank God that no one was hurt by my ignorance and continued the trek home.

The Rosary

Night driving has become a challenge and driving through Los Angeles is unfamiliar territory. With my GPS set for home address, I hit the highway. I was intimidated by the semi trucks’ loud sounds as they barreled past me, so I started to pray the Rosary. Using my fingers as guides, and sometimes getting confused as to how many Hail Mary’s I’d recited, I’d start the decade over. Needless to say, it was most efficacious because I prayed my way home.

By the time I arrived (45 minutes later), Sonja and her family had not been cleared through security!

4th of July

Mikos, our son, and Jenny, our daughter-in-law, invited us to celebrate the 4th of July. Lately I have been batting 500 with my desserts, so I offered to bring something to the gathering. I decided on chocolate chip oatmeal cookies.

I got out all my ingredients and followed the recipe, but something was not right. Every time I turned on the mixer, oats were flying all over the counter. I carefully reviewed the recipe and it said to mix until smooth; but there was nothing smooth about this mixture. I mixed again, and this time the oats landed in my hair! I was dumbfounded and running out of time. I desperately tried to form cookies, but, again, the oat flakes were not holding together. I was not going to let this amateur recipe get the best of me so I decided to dump the mixture into a baking dish. The outcome was a disaster, and the mixture took a life of  breakfast bars. I struggled to cut the hard mix to take to Mikos and Jenny’s house.

The Reluctant Chef Strikes Again 

We had a wonderful, quiet 4th of July. We enjoyed a seven-layered dip, hamburgers, corn on the cob, and  noodle salad. Both Mike and I were pleasantly surprised that Maddie joined us, because she is either working or spending time with friends. Will was at the beach with his friends.

By the time I  served my concoction, it was as hard as a  brick. Jenny took the first bite, looked at me and  asked, “Do you like these?” My reply was, “I’m not going to answer that.” I knew how bad it was because I almost broke my tooth with the first bite.

The following morning I was going to warm up something in the microwave. Much to my surprise as I opened the door, I found the missing ingredient: two sticks of butter! The next day I was still sweeping up dried up oats from the debacle.

LAX Again

I knew that Sonja and her family were returning on Friday, but I was not sure of the time. I heard her say 3 o’clock  or seven, so I decided to call her. “Oh, let me check, we get in at 10:45,” she replied. “10:45 p.m.!” “Really? Why didn’t you tell me before hand?”  Mike was upset too and Sonja heard her father say, “Are you kidding? 10:45!” After hanging up the phone  I picked a cat fight with Mike about the situation. Poor Mike!

I made a plan to leave the house at 10:00, giving me plenty of time to get to LAX. Then I received a call from Sonja,”The flight is delayed 30 minutes, should we take an Uber?” I bit my tongue and, as much as I wanted to answer yes,  to my surprise I said, “No, I’ll leave at 10:30.”

I experienced the same traffic jam getting off of Sepulveda. Gridlock again! I saw the same stupid white tennis shoe. It was 11:20 by the time I made it to the gate, and though my family had landed, they were being detained like prisoners on the tarmac.

Sun Country

Sun Country is at the mercy of Southwest, so when their planes land, the passengers need to wait for Southwest gate to open. I understand the logic for Sonja, Russ and the boys to take this boutique airline because it has a direct flight to Minneapolis; but the inconvenience and extra time it takes is not worth the effort.

By the time they finally deplaned, it was well into the next day. Surprisingly, when I woke up the following morning I had racked up nearly 2,000 steps!

My Prayer

Dear Lord, I thank You that I am still healthy enough to drive. Thank you for granting traveling mercies to our family. Heavenly Father, teach me to become a more gracious servant.

Bless all who are traveling. May they reach their destinations safely. Amen.