TBT: Sixth Grade Field Trip to the Folsom Global Wildlife Center in Saint Tammany Parish, Louisiana

Joshua Newell, third from left; Greig - fourth from left - Holla!; James Porsche, last man to the right

Greig's Sixth Grade Field Trip to the Global Wildlife Center in Folsom, Louisiana 

(Circa 1990s)

The Global Wildlife Center is a nature park in Folsom, approximately fifty-three miles north of New Orleans. The park is nestled in the piney woods of Saint Tammany Parish - and, it boasts a menagerie of zebra, oxen, goats, and other "wild beasts".

I don't remember much about this field trip - except that I was sporting my nifty, all plasticine Nintendo brand spectacles and a jean jacket. I have no idea how we got this picture taken - but hey - and check out Josh Newell - my best buddy from the day; he is the one holding the pair of binoculars. 

Can anyone remind me of who's who in this pic? The names are on the tip of my tongue.

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That Day I Spoke to Margaux Hemingway When I Was Twelve Years Old

A Woman's Secret (1992)

It was Summer. I think. Somewhere around 1992 - I'm not sure. Mom and Dad were still together - and we were driving through Madisonville, Louisiana. The town hugs the Tchefuncte River - dotted with wood-paneled houses, an abandoned lighthouse, a swing bridge, a dozen churches, a feed store, seafood restaurants galore, and a Piggly Wiggly - not to mention a scenic riverfront landscape and an old Southern feel. A whitewashed stately two-story building houses the public library. And Higgins boats - the amphibious assault vehicles used to storm the beaches of Normandy - were assembled not too far from town. 

Swing Bridge in Madisonville © 2016 Kim Chatelain

We were driving through that day - like we usually did when I was growing up. Dad liked to take long road trips through the backwoods. So it was nothing unusual. We stopped at the Tchefuncte Feed & Seed on Louisiana Highway 21 (locally called Covington Street). The road is a nondescript stretch of highway - however, it is an unusual bend of the road, turning left and right as it stretches along - basically connecting the town of Mandeville (where I lived at the time) to the town of Covington. So it gets a fair amount of traffic.

Holy Moly! That's Madisonville, Louisiana on the silver screen!

I don't remember who noticed it was a film shoot. It may have been Dad. But we parked our car across the street in the Hibernia National Bank parking lot. We stepped outside the car and there was Margaux Hemingway stepping out of a Mercedes Benz right before our eyes! "Shhhh!" my dad said. "They're filming a movie." We stood there for about an hour watching what I soon learned was the incredibly boring process of filming a movie. In that time, waiting, we parsed that it was a "European director" filming a movie in the United States and the actress was Margaux Hemingway! I never felt so proud to be a Louisiana boy witnessing movie-making in action! Damn. 

I'm almost certain that's a real Madisonville cop!

Being all of twelve and considering myself an astute cinephile, I blurted out to Dad, "Hey, Dad. That's Margaux Hemingway! She starred in the Superman movie!" Not really knowing what the hell I was talking about I somehow managed to knock on the camper trailer where supposedly Margaux was staying. Her handler answered and told us to leave her alone. But I persisted. Finally, Margaux Hemingway stepped out and greeted us with a plastic grin. The girl was none too pleased that a couple of local oglers wanted to talk to her. "Hey!" I gushed. "You're Margaux Hemingway! I loved you in the Superman movie!"

Photo: Sixth Grade Photographic Portrait

Greig in Sixth-Grade, circa 1992

I'll probably regret posting this picture of me taken on a Sixth Grade field trip to the Global Wildlife Center in Folsom, Louisiana.

Recollections: College Visitations back in 1998

At Centenary College in Shreveport, Louisiana circa 1998

Throwback to that time in High School when I visited Centenary College in Shreveport, Louisiana, on a college visit.
I visited Centenary College in Shreveport, Louisiana, when I was a Senior in High School. Mom drove me. We spoke to the professors in the Liberal Arts department, and I asked them questions about their philosophy program.

I did not enroll in the school - I ended up becoming a seminary student at Saint Joseph Seminary in Saint Benedict, Louisiana.

However, Centenary symbolizes the trajectory I could have taken if I had chosen to stake out my own way as a college student on my own terms.

Photograph Taken a Few Days After Hurricane Katrina at Mom's House in Madisonville, Louisiana

Maggie and Greig, Madisonville, Louisiana circa August 2005

On August 29th, twelve years have passed since Hurricane Katrina stormed the Gulf Coast in 2005. Here is a blog post to commemorate that event.

You can make out the outline of Mom's house in the upper left-hand corner of this photograph. A fallen power line is draped over a felled tree. You can see that the massive oak still stands. Everything else is scattered, twisted, and torn. On August 29th, twelve years have passed since Hurricane Katrina stormed the Gulf Coast. Katrina was a monster wind storm - and this photograph attests to that fact.

Me and My Cat - Circa 1980s Roselli Family Photo

Greig and Toby, LaPlace, Louisiana circa 1987

I like the photograph above for two reasons.
First, Tobey looks glorious and we are definitely bonding - although my toothy grin is a bit unsettling (probably because the image is cropped and half my face is missing).
Second, the sofa we're lounging on sticks in my memory - I loved its satin-like feel - a bit of luxury that I can recall from my Southern Louisiana upbringing in the mid-1980s.

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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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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Social Determinism Study Explains South Louisiana Children's Future Income

My Hometown is Not the Best Place to Grow up for Upward Mobility

St. Tammany Parish borders Lake
 Pontchartrain north of New Orleans

Raj Chetty and Nathaniel Hendren are interested in whether or not where you grow up determines how much money you will make as an adult. According to their data, released by the Equality of Opportunity Project, Saint Tammany Parish, Louisiana (where I spent at least ten years of my childhood) is one of the worst counties* in the U.S. in helping poor children rise up the income ladder.

I found this out after reading an article the New York Times published: The Best and Worst Places To Grow Up: How Your Area Compares.

The Best and Worst Places to Live for Income Mobility in the New Orleans Area

The Times crunched the numbers and compared every county in the United States. It turns out, Saint Tammany Parish ranks "425th out of 2,478 counties, better than only about 17 percent of counties. It is relatively worse for poor boys than it is for poor girls."

Saint Tammany Parish is very bad for children in average-income families. It is better than only about 8 percent of counties."

And for the top one percent living in Saint Tammany? Saint Tammany Parish is also "very bad for children in families in the top 1%. It is better than only about 7 percent of counties. It is better for rich kids to live in Saint James or Assumption Parish."

Assumptions Squashed: Where You Really Should grow up in South Louisiana

I found these findings to be surprising given the number of people who have left New Orleans and Jefferson Parish to move to more suburban parishes like Saint Tammany.

Photographs: "My Cronkite Toes"

I call these "My Cronkite Toes" pics. About to lie flat on my back on this four-poster bed. Try as you might you cannot fit me into a round hole.

                                               About to lie flat on this four-poster bed 

                                  in the Garden District neighborhood 

                                  of New Orleans, I ponder the meaning of life.

There is foliage in the background.

 I am trying to fit myself into this recycling bin at the Union Square Whole Foods Market.

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A Photograph of a Cat on the Farm (in Louisiana)

Cat on the Farm, © 2005

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A Post to Say I Posted: "Bayou Castine, Mandeville, Louisiana"

Bayou Castine, Mandeville, Louisiana © 2015

A post to say I posted.

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Christmas Letter from New Orleans

For Christmas season 2011, I went back home to New Orleans to visit my family and friends. Here is what I did and saw. Read it!

An Ignatius Reilly Mardi Gras float
rolls through town / Image credit: Flickr

“I am at the moment writing a lengthy indictment against our century. When my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, I make an occasional cheese dip.”  

― Ignatius J. Reilly 
Anthony sits at a wooden table at the Balcony Bar, a place that looks regal during the daytime but becomes the center of considerable brouhaha at night. Having had a few cocktails, we sit together eating bar food. Anthony feeds me a French Fry. Carrying a tray with hamburgers, Andrew almost runs into a cadre of revelers who are talking so loudly the entire building seems to close in on itself with the noise. We sit and attempt conversation. This is our city every night. It has been a year and a half since leaving New Orleans. Having returned home for eight days I leave again with renewed something for the Crescent City. Martin says Nola (as locals call it) is the best city. He's right.

Cafe Du Monde Coffee and Chickory

To drink coffee is divine. 

A little bit of NOLA in NYC.

Location:Atlantic Avenue, Brooklyn, New York

"Are you a Dad?" and other Stories from Summer Camp

image credit: remarkk

    While working at a summer camp in Louisiana when I was a Benedictine Brother, I got stuck with the task of dealing with children who suffered from homesickness. We called them the homesick kids; it was easy to spot them right away: either they feigned a fall on the first day to get a ticket back home or they showed up at the cabin with a look in their eye of sheer sadness. These were the kids who figured out they were duped. Mom and dad were not coming back. It was not too hard to find these kids for they usually found you! It didn't matter to any of the forlorn boys who made it out to the homesick bay, if I said, "it's only one week." A week could be a month or a million years. They wanted to go home. One night I was in the infirmary and the youngest cabins were about to finish their night swim and I was helping the nurse administer the last rounds of Paxil, Sudofed, insulin shots, band aids and Calamine lotion.

Poem: Train Station, Hammond, Louisiana

 

photo continuance: seattleweekly

stands a peach and plum seller and his grandson,
a pail of peaches for 10,
a basket of plums for 5;
the peaches downy and yellow,
a brown tinge of grass on top of their round facades,
the plums thin, easy to bite into;
they tell me,
a family of fruit sellers,
their white pick-up truck doubles as a storefront
and their transportation,
hailing from Alabama,
with Alabama plates,
traveling farmers,
a round, happy belly, age lines born from cheerfulness,

approaching to buy something with measly dollars,
rumpled in a cheap wallet,
the grandfather goes and sits down,
satisfied,
the grandmother, reading a newspaper,
trusts
her boy to handle the sale,
the morning summer sun heating the concrete;
the glint of an Amtrak train veering into the station;
the boy shows off his produce,
grinning like a seasoned salesman,
but serious when he
points to some small, green colored peaches,
“these here are sour; I don’t like ‘em,
but I can sell ‘em to ya anyway if you like, sir,”
“No, I think I like that basket of plums over there for breakfast,”
The boy, nods, obediently,
“I can sell ‘em to ya if you like, sir”
and hands the green basket like an offering,
placing a peach in the mix for extra,
this act of kindness both part of the sale and a kind of measure of survival,
meeting his eyes just for a second,
broken blue and his hair a matte of red,
a nondescript cap nestled on his head;
he answers questions;
“yeah, we go from Alabama to Mississippi; just came from Chalmette,”
he says, politely answering the queries, as if they are expected, as if he is used to this
 line of questioning —

and I wonder where they are off to next, which town, and for how long —
and slightly envious that it isn’t me, selling those peaches and those plums,

a kind of gentle harmony, biting into the small, but full plum,
its redness firm and meaty; a good feeling to have so early in the morning,
to be a produce seller, to pass off such delicate fruit,
you have to be gentle, and courteous,
making sure you seem to be sharing instead of selling —
and trusting that you are making people happy, sated,
their tummies filled with juices, grown from the earth;
a romanticism is there, for sure;
forgetting the commercial exchange, it is as if one is just picking these peaches and
plums from where they came; hearing the pluck from the branch,
just as natural as giving a handsome tip

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Photo: "Police at Crystal Burger"

The Finest dine at Krystal Burger (Nothing Like It!) on Bourbon Street in New Orleans, Louisiana.

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Sparkling New Streetcar Line on Loyola Avenue in New Orleans

Photo: wallyg

According to Frank Donze, reporting for the Times-Picayune, The Obama Administration approved stimulus money earmarked to construct a new transit line in the city of New Orleans. The city was awarded $45 million to erect the new streetcar line that will run from the Union Passenger Terminal on Loyola Avenue and end on Canal Street, a 1.5 mile stretch. Other routes had been considered by the administration, including a corridor along N. Rampart Street and a line stretching along Convention Center Boulevard (which are still in the works), but in the end, the Regional Transit Authority won the Loyola bid. A stipulation of the money was to enhance existing transit systems in an American city and to provide a connection to existing transit systems, so the New Orleans project seemed to have won the favor of the grant givers, winning out over 30 other cities. The city desperately needs a creative boost to its public transportation system and I am very happy the Federal money was won. RTA has until May 2012 to finish the project. So, wake up New Orleans and get your laissez-faire attitude up a notch.

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Greig Roselli's 100th Post on Stones Of Erasmus

The one-hundredth post of anything should not go unrecognized. You could say, "What the hell? One hundred posts? Who cares?" I will not think less of you. Blog posts should be celebrated, however. Stones of Erasmus launched in 2005.

Posts when I first started blogging were rare. My energy was relegated to other writing projects. The blog here gained momentum last August when I posted my road trip across America.

Railroad Tracks in Lebeau © Google Maps

I am posting the one-hundredth blog from Bordelonville, LA. I decided to journey with Tony, Andre, Cherie, Ricky, Michelle, Michael, Samuel, and Eddie (a Shih Tzu mix) to the country for the Bordelonville Church Fair. When we cross the railroad track in Lebeau everyone must sing, "We're in the country now! We're in the country now! High-Ho-the-Cherry-Oh we're in the country now!" In Bordenlonville we feasted on cracklins, jambalaya and tried our luck playing twenty-five cent Bingo. The big prize was a twenty-five dollar gift certificate to Glamour Puss in downtown Bordelonville.