“Have you ever been in New Orleans? If not you’d better go, It’s a nation of a queer place; day and night a show! Frenchmen, Spaniards, West Indians, Creoles, Mustees, Yankees, Kentuckians, Tenesseans, lawyers and trustees, Clergymen, priests, friars, nuns, women of all stains; Negroes in purple and fine linen, and slaves in rags and chains. Ships, arks, steamboats, robbers, pirates, alligators, Assassins, gamblers, drunkards, and cotton speculators; Sailors, soldiers, pretty girls, and ugly fortune-tellers; Pimps, imps, shrimps, and all sorts of dirty fellows; White men with black wives, et vice versa too. A progeny of all colors – an infernal motley crew! Yellow Fever in February – muddy streets all the year; Many things to hope for, and a dev’lish sight to fear!”
Colonel James R. Creecy, 1860
Sailing up the Mississippi to New Orleans
Two and three hundred years ago, people sailed into New Orleans and came up the muddy mouth of the Mississippi or “Father of Waters” as it is also called because it is so big. Their ship was usually caught at the mouth and towed into the harbor at New Orleans. One such traveler was Colonel James Creecy from North Carolina whose first view of the Mississippi inspired the following:
My first impression was the vast extent of marsh: so waste, so uninhabitable, so lonely, so like the Great Desert of Sahara, in monotony and dreamy stillness. A dreary home for alligators, mud-turtles, catfish, and seabirds. The view produced a melancholy sensation at my heart, which I could not easily get rid of…for miles on both sides of the channel…were piled in wild confusion, thousands of trunks, bodies and the larger limbs of trees, bereft of foliage and bark; bleached till white as human bones on the fields of Waterloo, and looking like the skeletons of departed glories, once the majestic beauty and pride of the river in higher regions, thousands of miles away north.
Scenes in the South by Col. James R. Creecy, 1860.
Mississippi River Delta
That is quite a different first impression than what we experience. The desolation is palpable.
Nowadays
Nowadays we drive by car or fly in, or we may sometimes cruise in from the Gulf of Mexico. And then we walk down to the park along the Mississippi. For a lot of us, this is what our first glimpse of the mighty Mississippi looks like. I know it was mine.
NASA is the National Aeronautics and Space Administration in Houston, Texas.
NASA scientists recently sent pictures of naked humans into space. I am not too keen on enticing aliens; if they would be enticed. The scientists say they want to “start a conversation” with aliens no matter how far off into the future.
Even if the aliens are short, dour, and sexually obsessed—if they’re here, I want to know about them.
Astronomer Carl Sagan
Speak for yourself, Mr. Sagan. I, for one, would not like to be followed around by a short, dour, sexually obsessed alien.
Oh, I see. It’s not actually a photograph, it’s an illustration. Well, that’s different.
Extra Hungariam non est vita, et si est vita, non est ita
Mátyás Sárközi, Hungarian scholar 350 years ago.
Translation from Latin: There is no life outside of Hungary, and if there is life, it is not the same. (Not the same as in not quite up to par).
Budapest, the Jewel of the Danube
Saint Gellért on the bank of the Danube River. King Stephen asked him in the 11th century to convert his pagan people to Christianity. The Italian monk, Gellért, tried but was thrown down this hill in a barrel spiked with nails. That’s a rough reception. I wonder where they came up with that?I’ve never heard of such brutish treatment of a visiting man of the cloth.
And Jewel of the Satellite Countries
Budapest, Hungary known as the jewel of the Danube was also known as the jewel of the satellite countries during Soviet occupation. Why? Because it was the least oppressed. Under a “communist” regime, the people managed to operate small companies, travel abroad on business, and receive the most tourists than any other Soviet bloc country. And now that it has recuperated, slowly but surely, from the hollowing out it suffered under “communism”, Budapest is welcoming more visitors than ever. It is a city like no other in a country that is more than a thousand years old.
Please note: I use quotations for the word communism because no country has ever achieved a “communist” paradise. Everyone is always stuck at the socialist stage. Socialism precedes communism.
The Little Princess in front of the Little Princess
Maureen has been to Budapest before but doesn’t remember any of it. That is “The Little Princess Statue” in the background. It was created in 1972.
“Your mullets suck.” “You’re fat.” And thus began our foray into the wilds of Sydney on a very early, pre-dawn Saturday morning. A Saturday morning following the night before “football” (soccer) match between Scotland and Australia. I think Scotland lost. We ducked into a coffee shop on the corner and immediately came up against 3 youths around Maureen’s age (16). The one nearest the cookie display pointed to a big chocolate chip cookie and said to me, “Don’t you think this is too much for a cookie? Would you pay this?” The cookie was $5.90 Australian. And I had to say, “Yeah, it is.” “See!” the same youth said to one of the Chinese youths behind the counter. There was a definite aggressive tone in his voice and posture.
My brother asked if this was me in a kilt. My brother is such a funny guy. I hope he is wearing wool underpants (yeah, my brother too) because no self-respecting woman would walk around in 40 degree temps without wearing panty hose or tights.
Inflation in Sydney
By the way, the prices in Sydney are crazy. I even read in the newspaper that the price of something was “un-Australian”. Anyway, things just kind of snowballed really fast from there. So I said, in defense of the nervous-looking young person behind the counter, “Yeah, it’s a lot. But, if you don’t like it, why not go somewhere else?” The counter person barely nodded and I heard a very quiet, “Yeah.” Yeah, as in get the hell out of my store.
Mullets Suck
The second guy standing with Maureen asks where are we from. He looked the roughest of all three. He stood 6 feet, had bloodshot dark blue eyes, brown hair, acne, and a sort of simmering energy right below the surface. I felt like this guy could erupt at any second and it wouldn’t take much to light the fuse. In fact, looking at him, he seemed to be thinking about something else other than the conversation we were having. He asked why we were here. And Maureen said, of all things, that she was an international college student followed by “your mullets suck”.
Photo by Good Faces on Unsplash
Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting
I’m not sure what prompted this sudden negativity, but when he answered “You’re fat.”, she grabbed my arm and marched me out of the place, yelling, “Fuck off!” They yelled something back but I didn’t quite catch it. The young gentlemen had probably been out all night drinking and doing God knows what else and now they were going to fight with the Chinese guys in Chinatown only they ended up picking a fight with Maureen instead. I swear, Moe was so angry that if we had stayed there a minute longer she would’ve resorted to Taekwondo kicks and slaps and we would’ve been the worse for it. A lot worse.
Wallet Safety in Sydney
Meanwhile, there was a tall, blonde guy in his thirties standing right at the entrance with us the whole time just watching everything and not saying a word. All he wanted was a coffee, like me. Instead, we get these crazy kids wanting to fight everybody.
Still, when all is said and done, mullets? Mullets are back? They didn’t look good in the 70s and they don’t look good now. What do you think of this guy? I rest my case.
But, seriously, what was I thinking? I should’ve pulled out a twenty, bought them 3 cookies, and told the guy behind the counter to keep the change. However, would it be a good idea to take out your wallet under those circumstances?
We had two Egg McMuffin meals (so that’s one McMuffin, one hash brown, and one drink). The McMuffin could not get any smaller. I mean it was around 3 inches wide. Guess how much this fine morning repast cost? Twenty Australian. That is so un-Australian.
Henry Huggins
I was standing right where that farthest yellow cone is picking up my coffee. A man in his twenties came up to me, shook my hand, introduced himself and without speaking spread his arms out for a hug. I guess he figured if he introduced himself he was eligible for a hug. I just shook my head and turned to collect the coffees. With a coffee in each hand I turned around and he was still there. Again, he spread his arms out. I said, “My husband is sitting over there. Excuse me.” Sydney’s drunken goodwill ambassador in the form of Henry welcoming me to the land down under. Thanks Hank.
Tail End of the Morning’s Theme Song
It’s a shame I didn’t get it when it was in full swing. Maureen is trying to keep her nose ring from falling down in case you were wondering.
We drove up north to see the Coonhound Cemetery. It is the only one like it in the world. But before we left, I discovered that Helen Keller’s House and Muscle Shoals Music Studio are all in the same area. I won the trifecta.
Alabama Belts
As we drove the back roads, the terrain became more of a roller coaster. This was, after all, the foothills of the Appalachians. Coming from flat Florida, this was a lovely sight indeed, especially in Spring. Camellia and honeysuckle had already bloomed in our neck of the woods, but Eastern Redbud was in its full glory the farther north we went. There was a sign that read. “Entering Alabama Timber Belt”. This was evidenced by numerous flatbeds hauling big bundles of pine trees and other trucks transporting finished lumber. Alabama is a heavily wooded state. Beautiful.
At the town of Eutaw there was a sign that said, “Alabama Black Belt”. I had no idea what this meant. I said to Maureen, “Is this because Black people live here?” She said, “No, it can’t be. It must be some kind of stone or maybe coal”. It sounded strange to us. So I looked it up. The Black Belt is “a cradle of African American Heritage” and it also has a rich tradition of quilting. I was right! The official designation is something new, however.
This quilt was made by Helen Keller’s aunt. The large stitches were indicative of who made the quilt. Stitches were personal creations.
Alabama North Country
Shortly after this I caught sight of a groundhog nibbling on something at the side of the road. This was at Bear Creek, to be precise, which is located just down the road from Murder Creek.
(Interesting name for a small body of water, I must say. I will have to research that one. Thank God the truck didn’t break down here.) It was at this point that I knew we were definitely entering the north country. Florida does not have groundhogs. But, murders at creeks, I’m sure we’ve had our fair share of those.
Florence, Alabama
Six and a half hours later we reached our destination of Muscle Shoals, Alabama. We drove over the Tennessee River to take a quick look at Florence the home of the University of North Alabama. The buildings date from 1830 when the university was founded. Also in Florence is McFarland Park, a long tract of land stretching along the river with concrete picnic tables, tall pines and a fresh breeze off the river. We happened to park right beside a little egg that had fallen out of one of the tall pines. Maureen picked it up. I think it’s a Robin’s egg. Just in time for Easter.
Coon Dog Graveyard, Tuscumbia, Alabama
The next morning we rose early to find the Coon Dog Cemetery. It was about 30 minutes from our hotel in Muscle Shoals. We drove up a winding road past blonde cows, a few fine houses and finally reached a plateau in a very remote area of the woods. The cemetery is on top of the ridge. It was morning, the forest was hushed except for the sound of a woodpecker working very hard for his breakfast. I stood still with the fallen friends looking off into heavily wooded ravines, and imagined wild chases full of dogs barking and baying, men yelling and cursing and branches breaking underfoot. Does it remind you of a fox hunt without the horses? .
What would October, November and December be without this sport? Then, if ever, come perfect nights when you fill your lungs with the vigorous air and down the breeze the chorus of your dogs like “the horns of elf-land faintly blowing!”
The Coon Hunter’s Handbook by Whitney and Underwood, p.20.
A Good Thrashing
So what is a Coonhound, anyway? There are Blue Ticks, Redbones, Black and Tans and Treeing Walkers. They are all American dogs, some dating back before the country was even formed. And, according to my trusty Coon Hunter’s Handbook written in 1952, in order to officially be one, the dog must have one witness to its actually treeing a coon and three witnesses if it is not certified.
If the dog chases deer or squirrels, it is disqualified. How do you dissuade a dog from chasing a squirrel? I’d like to know that one. Again, I turn to my handbook and it says, along with other things, “a good thrashing” will do it. That’s grim. They were tough in those days. A 21st-century Snowflake would perish on a 1930s forest floor as quickly as it had fallen.
Troop
The first man to bury his dog here was Mr. Key Underwood. (Is the Underwood author of “The Coonhunter’s Handbook” any relation, I wonder?) The dog’s name was Troop. This was in 1937. They had been together for 15 years and everyone agreed that Troop was the best. He buried him in a cotton pick sack 3 feet under at an old hunting camp. Now there are 300 more graves one as recent as 2023.
No Waltzin’ In
Don’t think you can just waltz right in and have your little Fifi or Pickles buried here. Don’t even go there. This hallowed ground will not be “contaminated by the likes of lapdogs or poodles.” These coonhounds are more than just pets, they are equal partners in an exciting adventure where nobody knows what will happen and nobody knows where or how it will end. Not only that. Raccoon pelts are valuable. America was built on the backs (on the fur from the backs) of raccoons and beavers, too.
A Partial Gallery of Fallen Alabama Coon Dogs
Cats and Monkeys
And you can make a “delectable” dinner out of this animal according to my handbook. Just as long as you cut up the roast because they tend to look like cats or monkeys. So serve it in pieces especially if there are children around. Also, don’t forget that someone is sure to bite on the BB shot and that will start the conversation back to the coon hunt and before you know it all the gory details are coming out. That’s when you’ll get a few sensitive souls leaving the table so remember:
We should try to make the occasion of eating coon meat, which is really very delectable, as pleasant as possible, remembering that we do not describe the slaughter house every time we have lamb for Sunday dinner.
Whitney and Underwood, The Coon Hunter’s Handbook, p. 159
Razorback Red Makes a Break for It
Whenever Moe gets in the backcountry she gets a little wild. You can see the mischievous glint in her eye right before she hightailed it into the bush. She sort of reminds me of the elusive razorback up there in Arkansas. At times I saw what I thought were tusks but it was only the way the sun’s rays glanced off her blonde highlights.
It took me more than an hour to track her down, “hog” tie her, and throw her into the bed of the truck. After she lay there for maybe 20 minutes, howling to beat the band, she asked me for some water which I, as her mother, dutifully gave. Then she looked me straight in the eye and said, “Ma?” I said, “Yes, child?” “Ma, don’t nobody love me the way y’all do, Ma.” I said that was right and even offered to let her run around a bit more but she declined.
She had had enough. The family curse had run its course. The blood of the hound runs through all our veins and we run with it. Literally.
Adieu my Sweet Fellows
We bade farewell to the illustrious group gathered on the hill. It’s been a long time since I had a hankerin’ to see this place. The peaceful, isolated setting deep in the woods suited these dogs well. This is where they longed to be while alive and now they rest together in the lonely woods, their spirits happy.
This was the first one, the model. All the rest are based on this one. Dachau opened on March 10, 1933, 5 weeks after Hitler became chancellor. It had the longest run. However, it was not strictly a death camp like Auschwitz and Treblinka where one arrived, disembarked and was sent straight to the gas chambers. The prisoners at Dachau lingered as if to give the illusion that people were only being detained. And as they lingered they weakened and starved to death or succumbed to illness or committed suicide.
The gate through which more than 200,000 souls passed. “Arbeit macht frei” hits you almost at eye level. “Work sets you free” is the translation. What would you think if you were walking through that gate and saw that? All I have to do is work hard and they’ll let me go? What a vile joke. They are sneering at their victims.
Terror
Right after I stepped through the gate and looked at the square, my whole body lit up with chills. My arms, chest, and legs felt ice cold. For just a fraction of a second, I panicked and then as soon as I told myself to stop it, the feeling left me. I was able to walk forward. It was a physical reaction to a horrifying place.
Now we can find them in a wolf preserve, but at least we can find them.
Wolves fascinate people. They are beautiful, intelligent, and dangerous. Folklore abounds with sayings, stories, and poetry about wolves. For example, the Russian saying,”
No matter how much you feed a wolf, he will always return to the forest.
Russian Proverb
Meaning, that even though you see wolves running around a preserve acting like they are big, soft, furry dogs, remember they are not. They are wild animals, not domesticated. They can tug that interesting backpack with the shiny button right off your child’s back in a flash and maybe the boy falls down. You rush toward your child and the wolf immediately gets defensive and bares his teeth. Now you have a real mess. This is why, if you look closely at the pictures in this blog, you will see a human being in constant contact with the wolf. He is keeping him distracted with snacks for a reason.
Change of Policy
Maureen was only seven when we went to the Seacrest Wolf Preserve. Now if you look on their website you will see that children must be at least 10 years old. I don’t know what happened to make them change their policy. However, whatever is best for the wolves and safest for the humans is the main thing.
The first time we came here was on a whim. We were coming back from Amelia Island and thought we would drop by. Unfortunately, it was closed. But, the wolves were there and called out to us. What could we do? We wanted to jump over the fence and join them. Unfortunately, we had to leave and come back some other time.
As soon as Moe could walk she said, “Let’s go to Vegas, Ma.” “Vegas?” “Yeah, that’s what I said.” I said, “Have you ever read the book ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas?” “No. I’m only a year old.” “Right.”
Las Vegas means ‘the meadows’ in Spanish. Yes, there were freshwater springs, marshes, and a grassy meadow here before all of this concrete covered it. In the 1800s Spanish merchants were on their way to Los Angeles and stopped for a break at this watering hole and gave it a name. This place did not become a city until 1905. It doesn’t seem that long ago. In fact, Las Vegas is the only Western city founded in the 20th century.
Our first Las Vegans. Is there an animal in that crate? Maybe a parrot?
I still hear your sea waves crashing While I watch the cannons flashing I clean my gun And dream of Galveston
Written by Jimmy Webb and sung by Glen Campbell 1969
Galveston is a Vietnam War-era song. It’s about a guy who gets sent to Vietnam and thinks about his girl back home. It’s a simple song but incredibly catchy.
When I saw the sea waves crashing in Galveston, I was confused. I thought that the whole Gulf of Mexico had beaches like we have in the Florida Panhandle, but it doesn’t.
In fact, I felt like I was standing on the Atlantic coast. The water was dark. The waves were huge and grim. This sea was uninviting, unlike the Emerald Coast with its white sandy beaches and warm, turquoise water.
When I think of Reagan, I think of someone who loved his country. He became a politician not to feather his own nest or revel in power. His motive was to lead the country down a path that was most favorable to the American citizen.
Therefore, he would agree with me when I say this: America is exceptional. Here’s why. It’s not because we have different DNA. It is exceptional because it is the only government in the world with a founding document that enshrines liberty. It is the only constitution in the world that LIMITS government. The individual gets his inalienable right to be free not from government, not from other men, but from God. This is why people keep coming here by the millions because they have opportunity. They have the opportunity to see their dreams materialize. The smaller the government the bigger the citizen.
Remember them? Whatever happened to them? How is it possible the human race still exists? Did you know that rain is naturally acidic?
The only time I “saw” Ronald Reagan there were so many protestors holding “Stop Acid Rain” signs that I didn’t actually get to see him. I heard him speak but I could not see him over the loud mob. Lunch bag let down.
Many Russian writers who emigrated from Tsarist Russia and Soviet Russia found asylum in America including some, like Vladimir Nabokov, who found kindred spirits.
Isn’t it interesting that Russia, with its consummate culture, unparalleled literature, vivid language, exquisite cuisine, and the biggest land mass of any country in the world; isn’t it interesting that people are not beating down its doors to live there?
