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Maggie’s What's Your View II
- Thread starter 1J04
- Start date
What is that suspicious looking bulge near your ankle?
Day 2 in New Orleans was a busy one.
We bought $3 24 hour passes for RTA and wiggled our way around via Streetcars.
I never realized there was once a US Mint in NO. The building now houses both a mint museum and a jazz museum.
The New Orleans Mint is the only US Mint to have produced currency under three governments - The Territory of Louisiana, The United States of America, and The Confederate States of America.
The cemeteries here incredible!
Massive above ground monuments and tombs rise in competition with each other in what I assume was a bizarre one-upmanship tournament spanning a century or so.
Then it was time to get Mrs. T registered at her conference and settled in for her next two days at the convention center.
A reception with drinks and food there for a couple of hours, and then a late dinner on Bourbon Street at Oceana. The redfish was incredible and the greens were the absolute best to ever pass this palate.
This one hit me a little hard. One of you knows why.
Had an extra quarter so I weighed myself and got some advice.
I knew I've lost more weight in the past week, but I didn't realize I was down another 10 pounds.
Diet, exercise, and worry.
"I just took a picture of your display with my Google Pixel 2, but you already know that."
We bought $3 24 hour passes for RTA and wiggled our way around via Streetcars.
I never realized there was once a US Mint in NO. The building now houses both a mint museum and a jazz museum.
The New Orleans Mint is the only US Mint to have produced currency under three governments - The Territory of Louisiana, The United States of America, and The Confederate States of America.
The cemeteries here incredible!
Massive above ground monuments and tombs rise in competition with each other in what I assume was a bizarre one-upmanship tournament spanning a century or so.
Then it was time to get Mrs. T registered at her conference and settled in for her next two days at the convention center.
A reception with drinks and food there for a couple of hours, and then a late dinner on Bourbon Street at Oceana. The redfish was incredible and the greens were the absolute best to ever pass this palate.
This one hit me a little hard. One of you knows why.
Had an extra quarter so I weighed myself and got some advice.
I knew I've lost more weight in the past week, but I didn't realize I was down another 10 pounds.
Diet, exercise, and worry.
"I just took a picture of your display with my Google Pixel 2, but you already know that."
Unfortunately no pics, I was in a hire car with no dash cam, flew from Adelaide to Cairns this morning then drove down to Townsville to my younger brothers place to organize our fathers ashes. On the way I almost ran over a rock python crossing the highway that would have been at least 12 feet long.
Her: We need more toothpaste but I don't see of the little travel sizes.
Me: We just ate a $200 meal. Go ahead and get the big one.
Me: We just ate a $200 meal. Go ahead and get the big one.
@Tucker301 , glad you're enjoying my home town. You're definitely hitting the spots, and most of my family is in that cemetery. There's a great neighborhood joint just up the street from there called Liuzza's (on Bienville) as well as a local brewery (Second Line).
Let me know if the missus is tied up tomorrow and I can drive over and take you out day drinking for a few hours.
Let me know if the missus is tied up tomorrow and I can drive over and take you out day drinking for a few hours.
Thanks brother! But we're heading back home tomorrow. I hit the aquarium this morning and will be going to the WW2 museum in a little while.
Glad to see this. I was just abut to chime in and suggest you see he WWII museum. You won't be sorry.
Have fun Tucker.
Hey Tucker, looks like you enjoyed the redfish meal!Day 2 in New Orleans was a busy one.
We bought $3 24 hour passes for RTA and wiggled our way around via Streetcars.
I never realized there was once a US Mint in NO. The building now houses both a mint museum and a jazz museum.
The New Orleans Mint is the only US Mint to have produced currency under three governments - The Territory of Louisiana, The United States of America, and The Confederate States of America.
The cemeteries here incredible!
Massive above ground monuments and tombs rise in competition with each other in what I assume was a bizarre one-upmanship tournament spanning a century or so.
Then it was time to get Mrs. T registered at her conference and settled in for her next two days at the convention center.
A reception with drinks and food there for a couple of hours, and then a late dinner on Bourbon Street at Oceana. The redfish was incredible and the greens were the absolute best to ever pass this palate.
This one hit me a little hard. One of you knows why.
Had an extra quarter so I weighed myself and got some advice.
I knew I've lost more weight in the past week, but I didn't realize I was down another 10 pounds.
Diet, exercise, and worry.
"I just took a picture of your display with my Google Pixel 2, but you already know that."
Kudos on a great trip and thanks for sharing.Mike
Sorry we missed the chance, but you clearly had a phenomenal trip. The Zoo Cruise from the Aquarium to the Audubon Zoo is great if they still run it.
Next time down let me know and we'll get off the beaten path a bit.
You mentioned the cemeteries earlier; the raised tombs aren't for show, they're because NOLA is at or below sea level so caskets tend to float up from graves when it rains and especially after floods. As it is they still float out of the tombs and people come outside to find coffins in their front yards.
Hi,
@bogeybrown .... unless they started the Zoo cruise back this year it is not available any more. I haven't made it down to NOLA this year but last October it was not operating. It never returned after Katrina is my understanding.
The only problem with NOLA trips is weight gain from all the damn french bread lol...I can sit at Mr.Bs all day and dip the bread in the BBQ shrimp sauce.
Sincerely,
Theis
@bogeybrown .... unless they started the Zoo cruise back this year it is not available any more. I haven't made it down to NOLA this year but last October it was not operating. It never returned after Katrina is my understanding.
The only problem with NOLA trips is weight gain from all the damn french bread lol...I can sit at Mr.Bs all day and dip the bread in the BBQ shrimp sauce.
Sincerely,
Theis
Yeah, I haven't seen anything about a zoo cruise. I wanted to do a swamp tour, but we're running out of time. Just got back from the war museum, but I'm sure I missed parts of it. Had to hurry and get back before the Mrs. gets in and is ready to head out for her agenda.
Freedom was watching over me today on the fence line.
Freedom flew over here today as I was splitting wood. Jolly Green headed for home (KDVN).
But earlier in the day, I was compelled to drag out the “cheater” (260) and kill some steel at 760 and 845. Lightest winds we’ve had in a while. 5-7 mph at 4-4:30...it’s not even fair. Beautiful spring morning...
Another day at work, my son graduates from the U of M tonite with a degree in Industrial Engineering( systems analysis). And no he isn’t moving back home into the basement ?
You can't call it work when you love it! Do you do any work?
That's sad to hear about the cruise, Audubon Zoo and the surrounding park are gems that most visitors don't see because it's outside of The Quarter. The Cruise made it easy for folks staying downtown to get up there without hassling with transportation or street car schedules. I'd put Audubon amongst the best Zoos in the country.
I haven't done the BBQ shrimp at Mr B's, but if you venture into Uptown (my old neighborhood) check out Pascal's Manale on Napolean. They're credited with creating New Orleans style "BBQ" shrimp, and they have a great oyster bar.
You can't call it work when you love it! Do you do any work?
Hi,
Well not if you follow that "Do what you love and you will never work a day in your life" lol.
I have my "working" moments lol
Sincerely,
Theis
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I gotta ask man. What is it exactly that you do? You're one travelling sumbitch.
Forget it.
I think he would tell you but then he would have to kill you......
Congratulations to him on an incredible accomplishment. You've got to be very proud my friend. Damn happy for all you seeing this through.
*Salute*
LOLOL
Oh. My. God........
Had the nephew, his wife an their 1.5 year old kid up a couple of years ago. Picked them up @ the Amtrak station in Seattle, Friday afternoon, 5:00 PM. Had to drive 60 miles north to Camano Island. Rush hour traffic, 2.5 hours of it...The kid screamed at the top of his lungs the entire way.....the only thing that gave anyone a break was that FUCKING SONG, in German no less. Over and over and over. I actually got to the point that I wanted to hear the kid screaming so I wouldn't have to listen to that fucking song. Jesus Christ !
Fucking knitting needles through my eyeballs stuff. I had iron. They never knew how lucky they were to not be found in a ditch, next to I-5, Gary Ridgeway style.
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Not my picture, but my story. Not every view is visual.
I recently had the pleasure of getting to know, in the slightest of ways, a woman who truly inspired me.
Her positive upbeat attitude, her obvious ability and desire to care deeply for others, and her unflappable spirit were truly inspirational to me in so many ways.
But Let’s Lay a Foundation First:
The first thing you need to understand is that I prefer to hide my messages in layers, riddles, and mysteries. Did you ever listen to the words of a song and interpret them a certain way, only to later discuss them with a friend and learn that they meant something completely different to them? Guess what – You’re BOTH right.
That’s the beauty of music and of art. The ears and the eyes of the beholders.
So if I say something that doesn’t get a message to you, give the analogy or anecdote some more thought. Something will pop up. If I say something like, “Kicked in the balls”, it doesn’t mean someone literally got kicked in the balls…. Unless I say, “They literally got kicked in the balls”. Then, yeah. Somebody probably got kicked in the balls.
Blind Deaf Cats:
The next thing you should understand fully, and those who know me can certainly testify on my behalf, is that I am not a man well-read in scriptures, well-versed in religions, or even scholarly to any degree. Some have called me wise, but for every tiny bit of wisdom I posses, there is at least one good scar, if not one on top of another. So “slow learner” may be more accurate.
I have a brother who attempts to guide me sometimes. He IS well-read and well-versed. He is careful to not be heavy-handed with me, but to give me gentle nudges and hints. It’s the same way I treated my old friend Al E. Cat in his last days. He was blind and deaf, but he was proud, and he thought he was getting around on his own. I was always right there with him, and I’d slide a foot in his way when he was headed for trouble and his whiskers would get tickled before he slammed his face into something. I wish I had whiskers. My face hurts, and it has scars. Sometimes one on top of the other.
I don’t read the Bible or any other religious or philosophical texts with any regularity. If a friend is hurting or struggling, and I think I can find something to help soothe them a bit, I’ll Google around and find something that seems to fit their published beliefs. There’s good comfort in words you’ve already found to be true. No harm in not rewriting the good stuff. Quotes work.
There’s a good example of this that occurred recently.
Over the years I myself have questioned the wisdom and authority of god (small “g” so you can apply whatever deity or non-deity you prefer) when innocent people, especially the helpless children, are harmed or killed in most heinous and disgusting ways. This recent incident however had a friend who seemed to be need comfort from some words. Words I didn’t have. So instead of arguing with God, asI’d done previously, I decided to see if He had an answer for me. Well, He and Google.
He did. The answer was that we are endowed with free will. We are not robots programmed to love each other and to be good unconditionally. We are given the right of choice so that we can choose to go one way or the other. Some choose the other. In fact, we all do, thousands of times in our daily lives and interactions with each other, but to lesser extremes. We choose to say a curse word here or there, or to sneak a peek at something we know we shouldn’t. That’s our free will at work. It’s also equally at work, sometimes in the very next moment, when we see ways in which we can do good things and impact others in positive ways. That’s not bipolar religion. That’s simply humanity. Free will at work every moment of our lives.
Charity is Hope Applied Topically
A select few who know me know a little secret that I’ve kept for a while now. I am reluctant to divulge it even now, but I can’t find a way to tell this story about this amazing woman without doing so, and if I have to give up a little something about myself in order to get this message across, then so be it.
I give, from time to time, to people who inspire me.
I prefer to give individually rather than institutionally, but I have done both.
I prefer to be underhanded and sneaky about it. I typically think people who give overtly and make a fuss about it are giving more for themselves than they are for others. The exception is when your story can inspire others. That is my hope here. I hope this story makes you think about your life, your blessings, and perhaps the ways in which you can give others hope.
Names on Bricks
When I was in New Orleans recently I noticed that a lot of bricks in the pavement in and around prominent public places had people’s names inscribed on them. People had paid money to a charity or projects, and in exchange for a grossly overpriced brick, they were forever remembered for their benevolence. It said so, right there on the brick. You couldn’t miss it if you tried. People have to watch where they walk in New Orleans – trust me on this. I deviated from that for about 15 seconds just the other day and ended up with something undesirable on my shoe. I still don’t know what it was, but I know it had once been inside of another person, and now it was on my shoe, uninvited and certainly unwelcomed.
My Style
I typically prefer to flag a waitress and say, “I’ll pay that ticket for those people right there”, or sometimes, at the end of a particularly fruitful day, I’ll do one last job for some nice people I’ve just met and tell them, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve already hit quota today.”
Sometimes I’ll notice that someone is moving into a new place, and they’ll receive a housewarming gift, even though they didn’t throw a party. I enjoy it. They enjoy it. Makes me feel good. Makes them feel good.
The reason I do these things is that life has been incredibly good to me, and I am eternally thankful for that. I can remember the days when we had very, VERY little. I can recall working at the hardware store and being out of money – ALL money - on Tuesday morning, and payday was Friday afternoon.
At some point along the way, we, my amazing incredible partner in this journey of nearly 40 years, my wife and I, began to gain ground and get to where we still had some money when the next bit came along. It was no accident. We worked hard and we both went back to school to better ourselves when we were in our 40’s. We also received some help along the way from family and friends.
I see many of you doing the same things these days. You’re fighters. You inspire me.
So when I see someone scratching and clawing their way through, like this incredible woman I met – undeterred and unrelenting, despite constant setbacks and obstacles – I take notice. They may not notice that I notice, as I can be a little bit sneaky about it. I prefer to observe their actions and words. How they interact and affect those around them. How they talk about others and how they treat them.
Judgments
Yes, we all do it. Stop lying about it. You do. I do. Let’s not dwell on this previously proven point.
We all, just as soon as we see or meet someone unknown, begin putting together a host of assumptions about them. The way they dress. Kept or unkept. The way they carry themselves. Their demeanor. Everything is weighed and calculated in a blink and an initial assessment is made – Do I engage, observe for more data, or move on?
This woman was worth further study. She was well-kept, which means she cared about herself and about how others perceived her.
She was smiling, friendly and cordial to me and to others around her.
She was quick to engage others and learn more about them and their immediate needs. She wanted to help or offer advice if she could, or just listen to let someone else know that their stories were interesting and meaningful.
I decided to quietly observe.
My observations increased my interest in her. Still lurking in the shadows, I noticed how she brought a sense of caring and interest to others by asking about them and their lives. She knew I was there and acknowledged my presence, but I just smiled back politely, pretending to be distracted by other matters.
That was the gist of our first meeting. It could have been our last, but it wasn’t. I am glad we met again. I wanted more.
The next time we crossed paths was in the same setting, but this time I was intrigued enough to go deeper.
She told me stories about herself and about others. The ratio was good. As much or more about others as about herself. That’s caring that can’t be faked.
Before I finish this story, let me get back to the core message – “Charity is Hope Applied Topically”
Charity typically doesn’t fix everything. Sometimes it doesn’t fix anything at all. What it does do is that it renews a sense of hope when perhaps some is needed. A soothing calming salve on a burn or a sore.
So this wonderful woman, and I honestly cannot recall if her name was Mattie or Hattie, began to engage me and my wife, as we sat and waited, as we had two evenings previous, for the Riverfront Streetcar in New Orleans.
I had already assessed her to be fundamentally good and hard-working from the previous encounter – the one in which I lurked.
Two nights prior, we sat in the front seats of the streetcar and listened to her as she chatted with the operator. They were familiar with each other, and there were updates and stories centered on work, graduating family members, health, wealth, and other not so small talk.
Hattie/Mattie was short round woman of color who took pride in the way she looked as she rode the streetcar to work around 10 PM. She was a grandmother, perhaps in her early 60’s. Close to our age. She got off at the last stop – “End of the Line!” as announced by the operator, and then walked through dark back alleys and towering city caverns to get to the Convention Center, where we parted ways.
It struck me how this small and seemingly defenseless woman was likely navigating these dark corners alone most nights as she went to work. Courage… or perhaps desperation. They tend to go hand in hand anyway, don’t they?
Last night, the scenario repeated itself, but with perhaps some divine intervention. Glenda and I had taken the ferry over to Algiers, mostly because it was something we hadn’t done yet. We had just returned to the Riverfront and were eager to catch the streetcar in for the end of the line – as close as they could get us to our destination. I was scratching my head and rerunning the calculations in my head, trying to figure out how I was down to my last $100 bill unbroken. I’d grabbed a handful before we left last Monday. I wanted it to be a fun trip, and it very much was.
Fantastic meals and ample entertainment. We’d been fortunate enough to get a wonderful meal as guests of business acquaintances of hers. A meal for which I never saw the tab, but based on what I saw on the menu, easily exceeded $100 per person.
Along comes Hattie/Mattie again. She’s going to work as an unarmed Security worker at the Convention Center on the night shift. Looking the exact same as she did two nights ago. Kept. Effort was made.
The streetcar on the Riverfront runs up, turns around, and comes back. The operator has to get out and manually flip the cables and change the tracks before heading back.
Shortly after she joined us, the car came in to the stop headed the other way. It would be a while.
Not a big deal. Nice night and already proven interesting company.
We learned that Hattie/Mattie was from Jefferson Parish. She spent about an hour getting to work in the city by hopping buses and streetcars. Sometimes she worked for Harrah’s as extra staff on busy nights. Sometimes Harrah’s would schedule her, and after she’d spent and hour getting ready and another hour getting there, they’d tell her that she wasn’t needed that night after all, so she’d spend the third hour getting back home with nothing to show for it.
She’d found work in Jefferson as a cafeteria worker, but they only paid minimum over there. She could get $8-$10 more a night in the city. Worth the trouble. Worth the time. Worth the risk.
She asked about us. She talked about her family. Her grandchildren and her nephews and nieces. She was proud of several of them graduating various stages of their educations in the coming days.
She talked about a 5 year old who kept getting sent home from pre-school because the teachers couldn’t handle him. One time the teacher even drove the kid home herself, just to be rid of him. WOW! To be rid of him.
It struck me odd that a host of adults couldn’t control a 5 year old boy.
We talked about how some kids are smarter and are under-stimulated. They get bored and that’s when trouble ensues.
We chatted about how she’s never in her life driven a car, or learned how to. We related that a car was freedom when we were coming of age. We didn’t have buses and streetcars.
So much about Hattie/Mattie reminded me of our incredible blessings. She too said she was blessed in many ways. She was immeasurably humble and determined to fulfill her promises herself and to her family.
She didn’t stand in line for handouts and freebies. There was pride in her.
So the streetcar finally showed up, and we all boarded…. “End of the Line! Last Stop!” announced the operator as we reached those dark alleys behind the convention center. How many times has she heard that? Yet she’s still there, every night, 10 PM, going to work.
From the other night I understood when and where Hattie/Mattie and us would be parting company. I thought about that last $100 bill. I thought about how easily I could make that up in an hour or so, and about how it would take her a good two night’s work to do it.
I wasn’t looking to fix Hattie/Mattie. That was well beyond my abilities and the time constraints at hand. Although I can just about promise you that if we saw each other every day I’d eventually do something earn another scar on my face. Free will being what it is.
What I could do, however, was give her some hope and some joy for this beautiful night in the Big Easy.
It was dark and she couldn’t see the bill folded in my hand as I reached out to shake hers and bid her a goodnight. She felt something and she recoiled slightly with her pride, and said, “Oh no sir! No sir!”
I said, “Your stories remind me of similar times for us. We’ve been very fortunate and we are thankful for all we have. Take this. If you need it, keep it. If you know of someone who needs it more than you do, then give it to them.”
“I will. I will… and bless you both!”
Bless you, Hattie/Mattie, on the Riverfront, at the End of the Line!
“Neither Shot Nor Married”
That’s from a book I read recently.
Novels almost always end with someone being either shot or being married. That’s not real life. In real life we cross paths with each other. Sometimes those crossing are as brief as ours and Hattie/Mattie’s. Other times they can last for months or even years. They rarely outlast us and our free will. That’s real life.
I recently had the pleasure of getting to know, in the slightest of ways, a woman who truly inspired me.
Her positive upbeat attitude, her obvious ability and desire to care deeply for others, and her unflappable spirit were truly inspirational to me in so many ways.
But Let’s Lay a Foundation First:
The first thing you need to understand is that I prefer to hide my messages in layers, riddles, and mysteries. Did you ever listen to the words of a song and interpret them a certain way, only to later discuss them with a friend and learn that they meant something completely different to them? Guess what – You’re BOTH right.
That’s the beauty of music and of art. The ears and the eyes of the beholders.
So if I say something that doesn’t get a message to you, give the analogy or anecdote some more thought. Something will pop up. If I say something like, “Kicked in the balls”, it doesn’t mean someone literally got kicked in the balls…. Unless I say, “They literally got kicked in the balls”. Then, yeah. Somebody probably got kicked in the balls.
Blind Deaf Cats:
The next thing you should understand fully, and those who know me can certainly testify on my behalf, is that I am not a man well-read in scriptures, well-versed in religions, or even scholarly to any degree. Some have called me wise, but for every tiny bit of wisdom I posses, there is at least one good scar, if not one on top of another. So “slow learner” may be more accurate.
I have a brother who attempts to guide me sometimes. He IS well-read and well-versed. He is careful to not be heavy-handed with me, but to give me gentle nudges and hints. It’s the same way I treated my old friend Al E. Cat in his last days. He was blind and deaf, but he was proud, and he thought he was getting around on his own. I was always right there with him, and I’d slide a foot in his way when he was headed for trouble and his whiskers would get tickled before he slammed his face into something. I wish I had whiskers. My face hurts, and it has scars. Sometimes one on top of the other.
I don’t read the Bible or any other religious or philosophical texts with any regularity. If a friend is hurting or struggling, and I think I can find something to help soothe them a bit, I’ll Google around and find something that seems to fit their published beliefs. There’s good comfort in words you’ve already found to be true. No harm in not rewriting the good stuff. Quotes work.
There’s a good example of this that occurred recently.
Over the years I myself have questioned the wisdom and authority of god (small “g” so you can apply whatever deity or non-deity you prefer) when innocent people, especially the helpless children, are harmed or killed in most heinous and disgusting ways. This recent incident however had a friend who seemed to be need comfort from some words. Words I didn’t have. So instead of arguing with God, asI’d done previously, I decided to see if He had an answer for me. Well, He and Google.
He did. The answer was that we are endowed with free will. We are not robots programmed to love each other and to be good unconditionally. We are given the right of choice so that we can choose to go one way or the other. Some choose the other. In fact, we all do, thousands of times in our daily lives and interactions with each other, but to lesser extremes. We choose to say a curse word here or there, or to sneak a peek at something we know we shouldn’t. That’s our free will at work. It’s also equally at work, sometimes in the very next moment, when we see ways in which we can do good things and impact others in positive ways. That’s not bipolar religion. That’s simply humanity. Free will at work every moment of our lives.
Charity is Hope Applied Topically
A select few who know me know a little secret that I’ve kept for a while now. I am reluctant to divulge it even now, but I can’t find a way to tell this story about this amazing woman without doing so, and if I have to give up a little something about myself in order to get this message across, then so be it.
I give, from time to time, to people who inspire me.
I prefer to give individually rather than institutionally, but I have done both.
I prefer to be underhanded and sneaky about it. I typically think people who give overtly and make a fuss about it are giving more for themselves than they are for others. The exception is when your story can inspire others. That is my hope here. I hope this story makes you think about your life, your blessings, and perhaps the ways in which you can give others hope.
Names on Bricks
When I was in New Orleans recently I noticed that a lot of bricks in the pavement in and around prominent public places had people’s names inscribed on them. People had paid money to a charity or projects, and in exchange for a grossly overpriced brick, they were forever remembered for their benevolence. It said so, right there on the brick. You couldn’t miss it if you tried. People have to watch where they walk in New Orleans – trust me on this. I deviated from that for about 15 seconds just the other day and ended up with something undesirable on my shoe. I still don’t know what it was, but I know it had once been inside of another person, and now it was on my shoe, uninvited and certainly unwelcomed.
My Style
I typically prefer to flag a waitress and say, “I’ll pay that ticket for those people right there”, or sometimes, at the end of a particularly fruitful day, I’ll do one last job for some nice people I’ve just met and tell them, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve already hit quota today.”
Sometimes I’ll notice that someone is moving into a new place, and they’ll receive a housewarming gift, even though they didn’t throw a party. I enjoy it. They enjoy it. Makes me feel good. Makes them feel good.
The reason I do these things is that life has been incredibly good to me, and I am eternally thankful for that. I can remember the days when we had very, VERY little. I can recall working at the hardware store and being out of money – ALL money - on Tuesday morning, and payday was Friday afternoon.
At some point along the way, we, my amazing incredible partner in this journey of nearly 40 years, my wife and I, began to gain ground and get to where we still had some money when the next bit came along. It was no accident. We worked hard and we both went back to school to better ourselves when we were in our 40’s. We also received some help along the way from family and friends.
I see many of you doing the same things these days. You’re fighters. You inspire me.
So when I see someone scratching and clawing their way through, like this incredible woman I met – undeterred and unrelenting, despite constant setbacks and obstacles – I take notice. They may not notice that I notice, as I can be a little bit sneaky about it. I prefer to observe their actions and words. How they interact and affect those around them. How they talk about others and how they treat them.
Judgments
Yes, we all do it. Stop lying about it. You do. I do. Let’s not dwell on this previously proven point.
We all, just as soon as we see or meet someone unknown, begin putting together a host of assumptions about them. The way they dress. Kept or unkept. The way they carry themselves. Their demeanor. Everything is weighed and calculated in a blink and an initial assessment is made – Do I engage, observe for more data, or move on?
This woman was worth further study. She was well-kept, which means she cared about herself and about how others perceived her.
She was smiling, friendly and cordial to me and to others around her.
She was quick to engage others and learn more about them and their immediate needs. She wanted to help or offer advice if she could, or just listen to let someone else know that their stories were interesting and meaningful.
I decided to quietly observe.
My observations increased my interest in her. Still lurking in the shadows, I noticed how she brought a sense of caring and interest to others by asking about them and their lives. She knew I was there and acknowledged my presence, but I just smiled back politely, pretending to be distracted by other matters.
That was the gist of our first meeting. It could have been our last, but it wasn’t. I am glad we met again. I wanted more.
The next time we crossed paths was in the same setting, but this time I was intrigued enough to go deeper.
She told me stories about herself and about others. The ratio was good. As much or more about others as about herself. That’s caring that can’t be faked.
Before I finish this story, let me get back to the core message – “Charity is Hope Applied Topically”
Charity typically doesn’t fix everything. Sometimes it doesn’t fix anything at all. What it does do is that it renews a sense of hope when perhaps some is needed. A soothing calming salve on a burn or a sore.
So this wonderful woman, and I honestly cannot recall if her name was Mattie or Hattie, began to engage me and my wife, as we sat and waited, as we had two evenings previous, for the Riverfront Streetcar in New Orleans.
I had already assessed her to be fundamentally good and hard-working from the previous encounter – the one in which I lurked.
Two nights prior, we sat in the front seats of the streetcar and listened to her as she chatted with the operator. They were familiar with each other, and there were updates and stories centered on work, graduating family members, health, wealth, and other not so small talk.
Hattie/Mattie was short round woman of color who took pride in the way she looked as she rode the streetcar to work around 10 PM. She was a grandmother, perhaps in her early 60’s. Close to our age. She got off at the last stop – “End of the Line!” as announced by the operator, and then walked through dark back alleys and towering city caverns to get to the Convention Center, where we parted ways.
It struck me how this small and seemingly defenseless woman was likely navigating these dark corners alone most nights as she went to work. Courage… or perhaps desperation. They tend to go hand in hand anyway, don’t they?
Last night, the scenario repeated itself, but with perhaps some divine intervention. Glenda and I had taken the ferry over to Algiers, mostly because it was something we hadn’t done yet. We had just returned to the Riverfront and were eager to catch the streetcar in for the end of the line – as close as they could get us to our destination. I was scratching my head and rerunning the calculations in my head, trying to figure out how I was down to my last $100 bill unbroken. I’d grabbed a handful before we left last Monday. I wanted it to be a fun trip, and it very much was.
Fantastic meals and ample entertainment. We’d been fortunate enough to get a wonderful meal as guests of business acquaintances of hers. A meal for which I never saw the tab, but based on what I saw on the menu, easily exceeded $100 per person.
Along comes Hattie/Mattie again. She’s going to work as an unarmed Security worker at the Convention Center on the night shift. Looking the exact same as she did two nights ago. Kept. Effort was made.
The streetcar on the Riverfront runs up, turns around, and comes back. The operator has to get out and manually flip the cables and change the tracks before heading back.
Shortly after she joined us, the car came in to the stop headed the other way. It would be a while.
Not a big deal. Nice night and already proven interesting company.
We learned that Hattie/Mattie was from Jefferson Parish. She spent about an hour getting to work in the city by hopping buses and streetcars. Sometimes she worked for Harrah’s as extra staff on busy nights. Sometimes Harrah’s would schedule her, and after she’d spent and hour getting ready and another hour getting there, they’d tell her that she wasn’t needed that night after all, so she’d spend the third hour getting back home with nothing to show for it.
She’d found work in Jefferson as a cafeteria worker, but they only paid minimum over there. She could get $8-$10 more a night in the city. Worth the trouble. Worth the time. Worth the risk.
She asked about us. She talked about her family. Her grandchildren and her nephews and nieces. She was proud of several of them graduating various stages of their educations in the coming days.
She talked about a 5 year old who kept getting sent home from pre-school because the teachers couldn’t handle him. One time the teacher even drove the kid home herself, just to be rid of him. WOW! To be rid of him.
It struck me odd that a host of adults couldn’t control a 5 year old boy.
We talked about how some kids are smarter and are under-stimulated. They get bored and that’s when trouble ensues.
We chatted about how she’s never in her life driven a car, or learned how to. We related that a car was freedom when we were coming of age. We didn’t have buses and streetcars.
So much about Hattie/Mattie reminded me of our incredible blessings. She too said she was blessed in many ways. She was immeasurably humble and determined to fulfill her promises herself and to her family.
She didn’t stand in line for handouts and freebies. There was pride in her.
So the streetcar finally showed up, and we all boarded…. “End of the Line! Last Stop!” announced the operator as we reached those dark alleys behind the convention center. How many times has she heard that? Yet she’s still there, every night, 10 PM, going to work.
From the other night I understood when and where Hattie/Mattie and us would be parting company. I thought about that last $100 bill. I thought about how easily I could make that up in an hour or so, and about how it would take her a good two night’s work to do it.
I wasn’t looking to fix Hattie/Mattie. That was well beyond my abilities and the time constraints at hand. Although I can just about promise you that if we saw each other every day I’d eventually do something earn another scar on my face. Free will being what it is.
What I could do, however, was give her some hope and some joy for this beautiful night in the Big Easy.
It was dark and she couldn’t see the bill folded in my hand as I reached out to shake hers and bid her a goodnight. She felt something and she recoiled slightly with her pride, and said, “Oh no sir! No sir!”
I said, “Your stories remind me of similar times for us. We’ve been very fortunate and we are thankful for all we have. Take this. If you need it, keep it. If you know of someone who needs it more than you do, then give it to them.”
“I will. I will… and bless you both!”
Bless you, Hattie/Mattie, on the Riverfront, at the End of the Line!
“Neither Shot Nor Married”
That’s from a book I read recently.
Novels almost always end with someone being either shot or being married. That’s not real life. In real life we cross paths with each other. Sometimes those crossing are as brief as ours and Hattie/Mattie’s. Other times they can last for months or even years. They rarely outlast us and our free will. That’s real life.
Not my picture, but my story. Not every view is visual.
I recently had the pleasure of getting to know, in the slightest of ways, a woman who truly inspired me.
Her positive upbeat attitude, her obvious ability and desire to care deeply for others, and her unflappable spirit were truly inspirational to me in so many ways.
But Let’s Lay a Foundation First:
The first thing you need to understand is that I prefer to hide my messages in layers, riddles, and mysteries. Did you ever listen to the words of a song and interpret them a certain way, only to later discuss them with a friend and learn that they meant something completely different to them? Guess what – You’re BOTH right.
That’s the beauty of music and of art. The ears and the eyes of the beholders.
So if I say something that doesn’t get a message to you, give the analogy or anecdote some more thought. Something will pop up. If I say something like, “Kicked in the balls”, it doesn’t mean someone literally got kicked in the balls…. Unless I say, “They literally got kicked in the balls”. Then, yeah. Somebody probably got kicked in the balls.
Blind Deaf Cats:
The next thing you should understand fully, and those who know me can certainly testify on my behalf, is that I am not a man well-read in scriptures, well-versed in religions, or even scholarly to any degree. Some have called me wise, but for every tiny bit of wisdom I posses, there is at least one good scar, if not one on top of another. So “slow learner” may be more accurate.
I have a brother who attempts to guide me sometimes. He IS well-read and well-versed. He is careful to not be heavy-handed with me, but to give me gentle nudges and hints. It’s the same way I treated my old friend Al E. Cat in his last days. He was blind and deaf, but he was proud, and he thought he was getting around on his own. I was always right there with him, and I’d slide a foot in his way when he was headed for trouble and his whiskers would get tickled before he slammed his face into something. I wish I had whiskers. My face hurts, and it has scars. Sometimes one on top of the other.
I don’t read the Bible or any other religious or philosophical texts with any regularity. If a friend is hurting or struggling, and I think I can find something to help soothe them a bit, I’ll Google around and find something that seems to fit their published beliefs. There’s good comfort in words you’ve already found to be true. No harm in not rewriting the good stuff. Quotes work.
There’s a good example of this that occurred recently.
Over the years I myself have questioned the wisdom and authority of god (small “g” so you can apply whatever deity or non-deity you prefer) when innocent people, especially the helpless children, are harmed or killed in most heinous and disgusting ways. This recent incident however had a friend who seemed to be need comfort from some words. Words I didn’t have. So instead of arguing with God, asI’d done previously, I decided to see if He had an answer for me. Well, He and Google.
He did. The answer was that we are endowed with free will. We are not robots programmed to love each other and to be good unconditionally. We are given the right of choice so that we can choose to go one way or the other. Some choose the other. In fact, we all do, thousands of times in our daily lives and interactions with each other, but to lesser extremes. We choose to say a curse word here or there, or to sneak a peek at something we know we shouldn’t. That’s our free will at work. It’s also equally at work, sometimes in the very next moment, when we see ways in which we can do good things and impact others in positive ways. That’s not bipolar religion. That’s simply humanity. Free will at work every moment of our lives.
Charity is Hope Applied Topically
A select few who know me know a little secret that I’ve kept for a while now. I am reluctant to divulge it even now, but I can’t find a way to tell this story about this amazing woman without doing so, and if I have to give up a little something about myself in order to get this message across, then so be it.
I give, from time to time, to people who inspire me.
I prefer to give individually rather than institutionally, but I have done both.
I prefer to be underhanded and sneaky about it. I typically think people who give overtly and make a fuss about it are giving more for themselves than they are for others. The exception is when your story can inspire others. That is my hope here. I hope this story makes you think about your life, your blessings, and perhaps the ways in which you can give others hope.
Names on Bricks
When I was in New Orleans recently I noticed that a lot of bricks in the pavement in and around prominent public places had people’s names inscribed on them. People had paid money to a charity or projects, and in exchange for a grossly overpriced brick, they were forever remembered for their benevolence. It said so, right there on the brick. You couldn’t miss it if you tried. People have to watch where they walk in New Orleans – trust me on this. I deviated from that for about 15 seconds just the other day and ended up with something undesirable on my shoe. I still don’t know what it was, but I know it had once been inside of another person, and now it was on my shoe, uninvited and certainly unwelcomed.
My Style
I typically prefer to flag a waitress and say, “I’ll pay that ticket for those people right there”, or sometimes, at the end of a particularly fruitful day, I’ll do one last job for some nice people I’ve just met and tell them, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve already hit quota today.”
Sometimes I’ll notice that someone is moving into a new place, and they’ll receive a housewarming gift, even though they didn’t throw a party. I enjoy it. They enjoy it. Makes me feel good. Makes them feel good.
The reason I do these things is that life has been incredibly good to me, and I am eternally thankful for that. I can remember the days when we had very, VERY little. I can recall working at the hardware store and being out of money – ALL money - on Tuesday morning, and payday was Friday afternoon.
At some point along the way, we, my amazing incredible partner in this journey of nearly 40 years, my wife and I, began to gain ground and get to where we still had some money when the next bit came along. It was no accident. We worked hard and we both went back to school to better ourselves when we were in our 40’s. We also received some help along the way from family and friends.
I see many of you doing the same things these days. You’re fighters. You inspire me.
So when I see someone scratching and clawing their way through, like this incredible woman I met – undeterred and unrelenting, despite constant setbacks and obstacles – I take notice. They may not notice that I notice, as I can be a little bit sneaky about it. I prefer to observe their actions and words. How they interact and affect those around them. How they talk about others and how they treat them.
Judgments
Yes, we all do it. Stop lying about it. You do. I do. Let’s not dwell on this previously proven point.
We all, just as soon as we see or meet someone unknown, begin putting together a host of assumptions about them. The way they dress. Kept or unkept. The way they carry themselves. Their demeanor. Everything is weighed and calculated in a blink and an initial assessment is made – Do I engage, observe for more data, or move on?
This woman was worth further study. She was well-kept, which means she cared about herself and about how others perceived her.
She was smiling, friendly and cordial to me and to others around her.
She was quick to engage others and learn more about them and their immediate needs. She wanted to help or offer advice if she could, or just listen to let someone else know that their stories were interesting and meaningful.
I decided to quietly observe.
My observations increased my interest in her. Still lurking in the shadows, I noticed how she brought a sense of caring and interest to others by asking about them and their lives. She knew I was there and acknowledged my presence, but I just smiled back politely, pretending to be distracted by other matters.
That was the gist of our first meeting. It could have been our last, but it wasn’t. I am glad we met again. I wanted more.
The next time we crossed paths was in the same setting, but this time I was intrigued enough to go deeper.
She told me stories about herself and about others. The ratio was good. As much or more about others as about herself. That’s caring that can’t be faked.
Before I finish this story, let me get back to the core message – “Charity is Hope Applied Topically”
Charity typically doesn’t fix everything. Sometimes it doesn’t fix anything at all. What it does do is that it renews a sense of hope when perhaps some is needed. A soothing calming salve on a burn or a sore.
So this wonderful woman, and I honestly cannot recall if her name was Mattie or Hattie, began to engage me and my wife, as we sat and waited, as we had two evenings previous, for the Riverfront Streetcar in New Orleans.
I had already assessed her to be fundamentally good and hard-working from the previous encounter – the one in which I lurked.
Two nights prior, we sat in the front seats of the streetcar and listened to her as she chatted with the operator. They were familiar with each other, and there were updates and stories centered on work, graduating family members, health, wealth, and other not so small talk.
Hattie/Mattie was short round woman of color who took pride in the way she looked as she rode the streetcar to work around 10 PM. She was a grandmother, perhaps in her early 60’s. Close to our age. She got off at the last stop – “End of the Line!” as announced by the operator, and then walked through dark back alleys and towering city caverns to get to the Convention Center, where we parted ways.
It struck me how this small and seemingly defenseless woman was likely navigating these dark corners alone most nights as she went to work. Courage… or perhaps desperation. They tend to go hand in hand anyway, don’t they?
Last night, the scenario repeated itself, but with perhaps some divine intervention. Glenda and I had taken the ferry over to Algiers, mostly because it was something we hadn’t done yet. We had just returned to the Riverfront and were eager to catch the streetcar in for the end of the line – as close as they could get us to our destination. I was scratching my head and rerunning the calculations in my head, trying to figure out how I was down to my last $100 bill unbroken. I’d grabbed a handful before we left last Monday. I wanted it to be a fun trip, and it very much was.
Fantastic meals and ample entertainment. We’d been fortunate enough to get a wonderful meal as guests of business acquaintances of hers. A meal for which I never saw the tab, but based on what I saw on the menu, easily exceeded $100 per person.
Along comes Hattie/Mattie again. She’s going to work as an unarmed Security worker at the Convention Center on the night shift. Looking the exact same as she did two nights ago. Kept. Effort was made.
The streetcar on the Riverfront runs up, turns around, and comes back. The operator has to get out and manually flip the cables and change the tracks before heading back.
Shortly after she joined us, the car came in to the stop headed the other way. It would be a while.
Not a big deal. Nice night and already proven interesting company.
We learned that Hattie/Mattie was from Jefferson Parish. She spent about an hour getting to work in the city by hopping buses and streetcars. Sometimes she worked for Harrah’s as extra staff on busy nights. Sometimes Harrah’s would schedule her, and after she’d spent and hour getting ready and another hour getting there, they’d tell her that she wasn’t needed that night after all, so she’d spend the third hour getting back home with nothing to show for it.
She’d found work in Jefferson as a cafeteria worker, but they only paid minimum over there. She could get $8-$10 more a night in the city. Worth the trouble. Worth the time. Worth the risk.
She asked about us. She talked about her family. Her grandchildren and her nephews and nieces. She was proud of several of them graduating various stages of their educations in the coming days.
She talked about a 5 year old who kept getting sent home from pre-school because the teachers couldn’t handle him. One time the teacher even drove the kid home herself, just to be rid of him. WOW! To be rid of him.
It struck me odd that a host of adults couldn’t control a 5 year old boy.
We talked about how some kids are smarter and are under-stimulated. They get bored and that’s when trouble ensues.
We chatted about how she’s never in her life driven a car, or learned how to. We related that a car was freedom when we were coming of age. We didn’t have buses and streetcars.
So much about Hattie/Mattie reminded me of our incredible blessings. She too said she was blessed in many ways. She was immeasurably humble and determined to fulfill her promises herself and to her family.
She didn’t stand in line for handouts and freebies. There was pride in her.
So the streetcar finally showed up, and we all boarded…. “End of the Line! Last Stop!” announced the operator as we reached those dark alleys behind the convention center. How many times has she heard that? Yet she’s still there, every night, 10 PM, going to work.
From the other night I understood when and where Hattie/Mattie and us would be parting company. I thought about that last $100 bill. I thought about how easily I could make that up in an hour or so, and about how it would take her a good two night’s work to do it.
I wasn’t looking to fix Hattie/Mattie. That was well beyond my abilities and the time constraints at hand. Although I can just about promise you that if we saw each other every day I’d eventually do something earn another scar on my face. Free will being what it is.
What I could do, however, was give her some hope and some joy for this beautiful night in the Big Easy.
It was dark and she couldn’t see the bill folded in my hand as I reached out to shake hers and bid her a goodnight. She felt something and she recoiled slightly with her pride, and said, “Oh no sir! No sir!”
I said, “Your stories remind me of similar times for us. We’ve been very fortunate and we are thankful for all we have. Take this. If you need it, keep it. If you know of someone who needs it more than you do, then give it to them.”
“I will. I will… and bless you both!”
Bless you, Hattie/Mattie, on the Riverfront, at the End of the Line!
“Neither Shot Nor Married”
That’s from a book I read recently.
Novels almost always end with someone being either shot or being married. That’s not real life. In real life we cross paths with each other. Sometimes those crossing are as brief as ours and Hattie/Mattie’s. Other times they can last for months or even years. They rarely outlast us and our free will. That’s real life.
My dear friend, you just made my evening, and I thank you. You're a wise man Mr. Tucker.
Last Day and Night in New Orleans
My last day was spent ambling around the riverfront area while my wife hung out with 5,000 of her closest friends at the convention.
I visited the Aquarium in the morning, because I thought it would be relaxing and soothing indoor activity. It was not. There was bus load after bus load of screeching, squealing, running school kids pouring into the place. I got a few pictures, but most of my captures were video.
Back to Cochon for a sandwich for lunch. They have a Star Wars themed diorama of their butcher shop and deli. It's very accurate, save the fact that they didn't include a diorama of the diorama.
Next stop was the World War 2 Museum.
This is a MUST see if you're in New Orleans, but block out at least 3 hours. More is better.
My last day was spent ambling around the riverfront area while my wife hung out with 5,000 of her closest friends at the convention.
I visited the Aquarium in the morning, because I thought it would be relaxing and soothing indoor activity. It was not. There was bus load after bus load of screeching, squealing, running school kids pouring into the place. I got a few pictures, but most of my captures were video.
Back to Cochon for a sandwich for lunch. They have a Star Wars themed diorama of their butcher shop and deli. It's very accurate, save the fact that they didn't include a diorama of the diorama.
Next stop was the World War 2 Museum.
This is a MUST see if you're in New Orleans, but block out at least 3 hours. More is better.
Saint Charles Garden District Streetcar Ride and back to the Riverfront for a Ferry across to Algiers Point and dinner.
This is the house used in "American Horror Story - Coven" a few years back. It's a private residence.
Dry Dock Cafe - Algiers Point
This is the house used in "American Horror Story - Coven" a few years back. It's a private residence.
Dry Dock Cafe - Algiers Point
The river ice started moving here last night. The ice upriver is still in place but the ice down river has shifted. It gets interesting when the upriver portion comes crashing in here.
Man I hope this works . Mo cheapa shootin . Actually got this to shoot my AR at the indoor range . I'll post some pics from the christening .
Some "SPECTACULAR" shots guys. This thread has gone "FULL EPIC". You guys are amazing and living the dream. What a bunch of interesting like minded Gentlemen. < used loosely, very loosely.
I've been bad. Not much to add at this point, other than this will be the new view in a week or so. I had to. Does it makes sense for no other reason than to have something my other's in this caliber don't seem to like the 180's? Yes, yes it does.
https://www.snipershide.com/shooting/threads/wts-custom-7mm-rem-barreled-action.6884122/
@Iamero I should have never answered your call for a damn takedown spring..........
I've been bad. Not much to add at this point, other than this will be the new view in a week or so.
I had to. Does it makes sense for no other reason than to have something my other's in this caliber don't seem to like the 180's? Yes, yes it does. https://www.snipershide.com/shooting/threads/wts-custom-7mm-rem-barreled-action.6884122/
@Iamero I should have never answered your call for a damn takedown spring..........
Lovin it . It says 7mm Rem . Is that in Rem Mag ? I've been th8nking that getting back on my 7mmRem Mag for a month will make it easier to focus on my .308 .Some "SPECTACULAR" shots guys. This thread has gone "FULL EPIC". You guys are amazing and living the dream. What a bunch of interesting like minded Gentlemen. < used loosely, very loosely.
I've been bad. Not much to add at this point, other than this will be the new view in a week or so.
https://www.snipershide.com/shooting/threads/wts-custom-7mm-rem-barreled-action.6884122/
@Iamero I should have never answered your call for a damn takedown spring..........
That would look awesome in a MPA chassis...Some "SPECTACULAR" shots guys. This thread has gone "FULL EPIC". You guys are amazing and living the dream. What a bunch of interesting like minded Gentlemen. < used loosely, very loosely.
I've been bad. Not much to add at this point, other than this will be the new view in a week or so.
https://www.snipershide.com/shooting/threads/wts-custom-7mm-rem-barreled-action.6884122/
@Iamero I should have never answered your call for a damn takedown spring..........
R
Yessir my friend. 'Another' 7MM Rem Mag. I really, REALLY love this caliber. They've been very good to me. They all seem to love Bergers, hold the cheese. This will be filling the 1:8 twist for my 180's that I didn't have. AND, it's thee only gun with a Brake on it I now own. Not a Break guy, but this will be fun. Don't have to worry about Muzzle Blast cuz there ain't nobody gonna be on my Port or Starboard.
This is gonna be a bad rammer jammer when Larry is done with it. I'm thinking a Manners. We'll see.And for some darn reason I'm thinking you just might be able to hook this boy up with a deal on one............
If'n I don't go Manner's of course.
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