Alex James
English 1001
10-16-07
Ms. Lei Lani
Success After Tragedy
Although Hurricane Katrina was a catastrophic event, it provided thousands of opportunities. In Hurricane Katrina’s aftermath, anyone willing to work hard was rewarded handsomely in the end. Most of these jobs involved heavy manual labor and skill. Those who already had experience in trades like plumbing, construction, lawn service and other forms of blue collar labor quickly became some of the most successful men and women of the devastated area. Government programs such as FEMA were scrutinized for much of their hesitation and poor management immediately after Katrina, but were not exactly a complete failure. They provided jobs to many of the locals and out of town helpers alike in the following weeks.
One of the locals that had been deeply affected by this horrific storm was Darren Brown. Speaking to him over the phone you could tell he was an energetic man just by the way he skipped from subject to subject without taking a breath and the enthusiasm in his words. Prior to the storm Darren Brown owned his own landscaping business. It was a somewhat small company normally consisting of him and a single helper to do the lawn maintenance and landscaping to his few loyal customers. He generally had about thirty five yards to maintain in a given week. Darren would cut and edge the lawn, trim hedges and trees, weed gardens and any many other small tasks to please his clients. He told me that “many big companies don’t get on a personal level with their clients and do the small things that make them happy in the long run” which gave me the impression that Darren Brown found customer satisfaction to be a major part of his work.
Before the storm, Darren Brown lived in a small house located in one of the older portions of Slidell. His home was on a pretty large piece of land when compared to other property around him, and was surrounded by huge pine trees, some in excess of eighty years of age. It was a very humble house with old cast iron hand rails on the front stoop, dull paint, and faded terracotta roofing. The inside was a typical bachelor pad with little decoration and just enough furniture to have the occasional guest for dinner or to watch a game of football. It gave me an idea of Darren’s priorities when I saw his garage. He had seemingly spent what money he had on things to further his business rather than his personal comfort such as two brand new, top of the line lawn mowers that cost upward of seven hundred dollars.
Darren enjoyed his work and the satisfaction of seeing his customers happy with their new garden or sprinkler system that he put so much effort into. He told me that his business was very different than others for a few reasons. One was that most companies that are small normally stick to one type of service. Darren does many services such as sprinkler irrigation, lawn maintenance, landscaping, and the occasional construction of fences. The reason why he can do all of these horticultural services is because he manages his time wisely. Considering that he normally only kept one to two helpers at a time he learned to space his jobs accordingly. He calls it “the balance.”
During this time before the storm he would cut and maintain his thirty five yards in the Kenner and New Orleans area during the week and save his larger jobs for Saturdays. Darren described the maintenance jobs as what pays the bills and the landscaping jobs as what keeps him happy. Landscaping jobs are normally much more profitable than lawn care but landscaping is not consistent all year long. Most landscaping services are required in the spring and summer meaning that if it was not for his lawn care customers he would have a very small source of income during fall and winter. His annual earnings because of this was around sixty thousand a year, which is pretty high for a blue collar worker.
Darren did not exactly dream of being a landscaper. He actually was once a mechanic for the Ford dealership. He didn’t enjoy his work very much or the little money that he was getting so he decided to make a change. He started to work for one of his friends by the name of Mike levy, who began to teach him the tools and tricks of landscaping. He worked with Mike Levy for a number of years until Mike finally sold Darren Res/Com, the portion of the company that dealt with commercial and residential lawn care. Twenty years later Darren is still a lawn maintence professional. Over the years Darren lost his original clientele mostly because of their location and lack of profit but kept a good deal of them for over a decade.
All was well for Darren near the end of august of two thousand five. He had scored many large landscaping jobs during the peak of summer and with his assistant leaving for school, he was getting prepared for the less busy season of fall. This was all until one of the greatest natural disasters to ever hit an American city occurred. Darren decided to ride out the storm in his old house despite many of his friend’s and family’s request. That decision could have cost his life. The following morning he was standing in his front yard trying to assess the damage to his home. The large pine trees that surrounded his house were now part of it. Three of these trees that were over five feet in width had cut through his home like a knife through butter. Water had poured through the opening throughout the nitght ruining the little bit of furniture he had. The thing that affected him most was however not part of his home at all, but the destruction of the twin span. Without this bridge that he took every day to get to his customers, he would not be able to have an income until they were rebuilt. In this time of need he looked to FEMA were they had available jobs in emergency roof repair. For the next six weeks Darren made a considerable amount of money from constructing hundreds of the blue roof repairs. This was considered a positive step to getting his house rebuild to Darren.
Because of the storm, there was no shortage of work when it came to outdoor physical labor. This was a profitable outcome for Darren because of his experience and expertise in landscaping. Job after job, Darren would collect paychecks that gave him enough money to not only fix his old home but restore it to even better condition than it was before. He now owns a seven thousand dollar riding lawn mower and other expensive tools that help him complete his jobs more effectively. After the storm he received an annual pay increase of about forty thousand meaning now he makes about one hundred thousand a year. Darren Brown later on tells me that Hurricane Katrina was the best and worst thing that has ever happened to him.
Showing posts with label English 1001-110. Show all posts
Showing posts with label English 1001-110. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
People in the Louisiana Community
The first time I met Mrs. Judie Mellany was at the bus stop, with both of us sitting on a bench. I was nervous about my first day of college, and by the way our first conversation was commenced I’m pretty sure it was because she could tell. Mrs. Mellany was comfortable to talk to, she reminded me of a long lost grandma I never had. She turned to me and said, “Sugar, none of us got anywhere being scared.” Simple as that, that is how I met Mrs. Judie Mellany.
When given this English 1001student interview assignment I was moderately unsure if I wanted to interview Mrs. Mellany and write my paper about her. I was unsure if she had a profession or job that would be substantial to my paper, but I knew it was more than worth a try. The next day when I ran into Mrs. Mellany at the bus stop, I inquired about an interview. She seemed more than happy to have company rather than have a paper written about her, and invited me to her home that day when my classes had ended.
Mrs. Mellany lives in a duplex in a small Baton Rouge community off of a street moderately near the school, alone. Her front yard has flowers and plants; it was obvious a good amount of time was spent on the humble landscape. I knocked and was immediately welcomed inside. Mrs. Mellany’s house was spotless, and had everything in its place. I felt as though I should take off my shoes after entering, you could tell the carpet had been freshly vacuumed, therefore, I took mine off and set them next to her rain boots near the door. No spot in this house had been abandoned of dusting, not a single spot. Her floral designed couch reminded of me of something off of The Golden Girls TV show, but that could be on account of Mrs. Mellany’s age and the rest of the surroundings being typical of a good home owner. It smelled heavenly. “The cookies won’t be ready for another 10 minutes,” she told me, but I was happy there were cookies at all.
Mrs. Mellany sat with her ankles crossed, and her hands in her lap, or holding a pocket book, or her other hand, or just folded and set daintily. She always wore a dress with these tan colored shoes, and her socks always matched her dress. She was not very thin, not thin at all, but a rather hefty woman. Even still it was not hard for her to get around the house nor did her weight limit her from doing anything else normally. Her skin was severely pale, and worn down perhaps from over the years of sun exposure. Her lips were thin and always painted with a vibrant color of red or pink. Mrs. Mellany’s hair was short in length, and had a mixed coloring of gray and white. Her eyes were either a deep shade of blue or a gray color; it was difficult for me to tell. When the oven buzzer beeped, she threw her hands in the air before pushing her chair away from the table, giving the impression she was startled but I could tell she wasn’t by the expressions on her face.
Over a plate of delicious homemade raisin and oatmeal cookies I got to hear Mrs. Mellany’s life story. She didn’t admit to how old she was, but instead told me she was born in 1942 in Italy, indicating she was 65 years old. She is a widow from a marriage to Thomas J. Mellany, her husband of 22 years. Mrs. Mellany and her husband did not have any children. Both of her parents were Italian and immigrated to the United States when she was still very young. Mrs. Mellany and her family lived in New Orleans until the hurricane forced Mrs. Mellany and her brother out of their family’s house and to, how Mrs. Mellany put it, “beautiful Baton Rouge,” her tone was slightly sarcastic. Her brother had not followed her here though; he now lives in Austin, Texas. Mrs. Mellany “grew up in the sixties,” and like most teenagers during the time, she loved the Beatles and hated the war. When she was 19 years old her boyfriend of two years that had entered the armed services was pronounced dead. “I had received two letters from him after his mother told me he had passed on,” Mrs. Mellany told me, her eyes were gazing out somewhere I couldn’t see, and then she looked back at me.
After reviewing Mrs. Mellany’s personal life, I began to infer about her profession, or in her case professions. When she was 15 she got her first job being a cashier at a local convenient store. She said that it was an easy job and she enjoyed seeing all the people she knew come into the store. After that job, and later in high school, she worked at a barber shop sweeping and cleaning. Mrs. Mellany said this job did not require much training either, “the hardest thing I had to do was sweep hair and clean combs.” Later when she turned 20 she worked as a secretary for the local notary. Mrs. Mellany said this was her first “official” job. She enjoyed being viewed as someone of importance by working for someone so well respected throughout the community. She loved being a secretary and being able to interact on the telephone, file papers, and type necessary documents. “I thought I could type faster than anyone until they invented keyboard computers,” she said with amusement, I half way laughed as well. At the age of 25 Mrs. Mellany married her husband, and at the age of 30 decided it wasn’t completely necessary to work. “Tommy always wanted us to settle down and have a family,” Mrs. Mellany told me, but sadly the Mellany’s never successfully had any children. Mrs. Mellany now provides for herself working as a house maid on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
By this time I wanted to bring the interview to an end and asked Mrs. Mellany if she had anything else to say that she wanted included into the interview, and she replied with, “no sweet child.” At this time I thanked Mrs. Mellany for not only letting me interview her but for inviting me into her home, making me cookies, having great hospitality, and being very kind to me even when I was only a stranger. She was modest as I thanked her and told me I was welcome back anytime I pleased, then we said our goodbyes.
Interviewing Mrs. Mellany made me realize that I didn’t have to interview someone rich or famous to hear about a great, well-lived life. Although she was not rich nor held a high position in society, she is still a great, absolutely wonderful person. I discovered that your profession, or what you do, does not define who you are. Who you are defines what you have done or will do. It does not take a fancy title, high class career, or a lot of money to create an interesting wholesome person. It takes experiences and genuine care, and Mrs. Mellany has an overwhelming amount of both. Though she has held many titles throughout her years to me she should be defined simply as a good, interesting person.
When given this English 1001student interview assignment I was moderately unsure if I wanted to interview Mrs. Mellany and write my paper about her. I was unsure if she had a profession or job that would be substantial to my paper, but I knew it was more than worth a try. The next day when I ran into Mrs. Mellany at the bus stop, I inquired about an interview. She seemed more than happy to have company rather than have a paper written about her, and invited me to her home that day when my classes had ended.
Mrs. Mellany lives in a duplex in a small Baton Rouge community off of a street moderately near the school, alone. Her front yard has flowers and plants; it was obvious a good amount of time was spent on the humble landscape. I knocked and was immediately welcomed inside. Mrs. Mellany’s house was spotless, and had everything in its place. I felt as though I should take off my shoes after entering, you could tell the carpet had been freshly vacuumed, therefore, I took mine off and set them next to her rain boots near the door. No spot in this house had been abandoned of dusting, not a single spot. Her floral designed couch reminded of me of something off of The Golden Girls TV show, but that could be on account of Mrs. Mellany’s age and the rest of the surroundings being typical of a good home owner. It smelled heavenly. “The cookies won’t be ready for another 10 minutes,” she told me, but I was happy there were cookies at all.
Mrs. Mellany sat with her ankles crossed, and her hands in her lap, or holding a pocket book, or her other hand, or just folded and set daintily. She always wore a dress with these tan colored shoes, and her socks always matched her dress. She was not very thin, not thin at all, but a rather hefty woman. Even still it was not hard for her to get around the house nor did her weight limit her from doing anything else normally. Her skin was severely pale, and worn down perhaps from over the years of sun exposure. Her lips were thin and always painted with a vibrant color of red or pink. Mrs. Mellany’s hair was short in length, and had a mixed coloring of gray and white. Her eyes were either a deep shade of blue or a gray color; it was difficult for me to tell. When the oven buzzer beeped, she threw her hands in the air before pushing her chair away from the table, giving the impression she was startled but I could tell she wasn’t by the expressions on her face.
Over a plate of delicious homemade raisin and oatmeal cookies I got to hear Mrs. Mellany’s life story. She didn’t admit to how old she was, but instead told me she was born in 1942 in Italy, indicating she was 65 years old. She is a widow from a marriage to Thomas J. Mellany, her husband of 22 years. Mrs. Mellany and her husband did not have any children. Both of her parents were Italian and immigrated to the United States when she was still very young. Mrs. Mellany and her family lived in New Orleans until the hurricane forced Mrs. Mellany and her brother out of their family’s house and to, how Mrs. Mellany put it, “beautiful Baton Rouge,” her tone was slightly sarcastic. Her brother had not followed her here though; he now lives in Austin, Texas. Mrs. Mellany “grew up in the sixties,” and like most teenagers during the time, she loved the Beatles and hated the war. When she was 19 years old her boyfriend of two years that had entered the armed services was pronounced dead. “I had received two letters from him after his mother told me he had passed on,” Mrs. Mellany told me, her eyes were gazing out somewhere I couldn’t see, and then she looked back at me.
After reviewing Mrs. Mellany’s personal life, I began to infer about her profession, or in her case professions. When she was 15 she got her first job being a cashier at a local convenient store. She said that it was an easy job and she enjoyed seeing all the people she knew come into the store. After that job, and later in high school, she worked at a barber shop sweeping and cleaning. Mrs. Mellany said this job did not require much training either, “the hardest thing I had to do was sweep hair and clean combs.” Later when she turned 20 she worked as a secretary for the local notary. Mrs. Mellany said this was her first “official” job. She enjoyed being viewed as someone of importance by working for someone so well respected throughout the community. She loved being a secretary and being able to interact on the telephone, file papers, and type necessary documents. “I thought I could type faster than anyone until they invented keyboard computers,” she said with amusement, I half way laughed as well. At the age of 25 Mrs. Mellany married her husband, and at the age of 30 decided it wasn’t completely necessary to work. “Tommy always wanted us to settle down and have a family,” Mrs. Mellany told me, but sadly the Mellany’s never successfully had any children. Mrs. Mellany now provides for herself working as a house maid on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
By this time I wanted to bring the interview to an end and asked Mrs. Mellany if she had anything else to say that she wanted included into the interview, and she replied with, “no sweet child.” At this time I thanked Mrs. Mellany for not only letting me interview her but for inviting me into her home, making me cookies, having great hospitality, and being very kind to me even when I was only a stranger. She was modest as I thanked her and told me I was welcome back anytime I pleased, then we said our goodbyes.
Interviewing Mrs. Mellany made me realize that I didn’t have to interview someone rich or famous to hear about a great, well-lived life. Although she was not rich nor held a high position in society, she is still a great, absolutely wonderful person. I discovered that your profession, or what you do, does not define who you are. Who you are defines what you have done or will do. It does not take a fancy title, high class career, or a lot of money to create an interesting wholesome person. It takes experiences and genuine care, and Mrs. Mellany has an overwhelming amount of both. Though she has held many titles throughout her years to me she should be defined simply as a good, interesting person.
Behind Tinted Windows
At least three times a week I drive to my sister’s house and I always pass this place that catches my eye called After Hours Physical Therapy. Each time I pass it, I try to look through the windows to see what is inside but I never can. Even though I know I’m not going to be able to see what’s inside, I still try each time I pass it. The windows stretch across the front of the building and are darkly tinted. It has a huge white and green sign on top the building that says After Hours Physical Therapy with a huge clock next to it. The parking lot is not too big but is always full. Since this place intrigued me so much, I knew it would be the perfect place for me to do my student interview.
As I pulled into the After Hours Physical Therapy parking lot, I noticed a sign that read “If you are NOT a patient, please park around back!” I did what the sign said and pulled around to the back and parked. As I was about to open the door to enter, it opened automatically. Inside looked like a big gym where people work out. There were treadmills, stationary bicycles, weights, exercise balls, and other kinds of workout machines. As I began to look around at the people who were in there, they weren’t regular people who were trying to get fit or lose weight. They were people in wheelchairs, on crutches, and in braces. After I had figured out what was finally behind those tinted windows, I asked the receptionist if I could interview one of the physical therapists for my English 1001 class. She told me to go down the hall and it would be the third door on the right.
There was a gold plaque on the door that read, “Carol McFarland P.T.” I knocked on the door and I heard a high pitched voice telling me to come in. I opened the door and saw a lady sitting at her organized desk with short, curly, brown hair and a warming smile on her face. As I glanced around the room for a second, I noticed many framed certificates in a neat row across three of the walls. She asked, “How can I help you?” I briefly answered, “May I have a little bit of your time to interview you for my freshman writing at LSU?” She leaned back in her chair slightly and replied, “Of course you can.” We introduced ourselves and I sat down in the chair across from her. She had striking green almond shaped eyes with long dark lashes. Her skin was pale with freckles scattered across her face and arms. She wore a name tag on her white t-shirt that read, “Carol McFarland P.T.”
Carol had attended A&M University in College Station, Texas. She first wanted to be a P.E. coach, but realized that she didn’t want to pursue that anymore so she switched to geology. After a short time of studying geology, it no longer interested her. Carol decided she would try health education. She began reading a brochure about health professions and started reading about Physical Therapy. Growing up, Carol was always involved in athletics, so she knew when you get injured during a game; you get treated by Physical Therapist. She liked the idea of helping people get well and she had a real interest in it that kept her wanting to know more about physical therapy.
Carol began observing at a hospital in College Station where she got to help patients learn how to walk again after breaking their leg. She also helped strengthen elderly people’s muscles after they had a stroke. Even though she was not yet a certified Physical Therapist, she felt rewarded knowing that she had helped people in their recovery. As Carol talked she had a pleased look on her face and spoke with such sincerity. I realized how much compassion she has for her job and it made me feel good just knowing that.
Getting into physical therapy school was by no means easy. Carol had to take pre physical therapy classes to prepare to apply to physical therapy school. It’s very competitive to get in. They look at your grades, interview, and experience in physical therapy. Carol met all the requirements to get in. She started taking classes in physical therapy applications, neurology, and gross human anatomy. I asked her what gross human anatomy was because I had never heard of it. After I asked, she pulled her chair closer to the desk and said in a serious tone, “I had never experienced a class quite like it before. It was the hardest class I ever had to take.” She took in a deep breath and began telling me about it. Carol had to dissect cadavers, which are dead that had been donated to the school. At first I didn’t understand why she would have to do that for a physical therapy class. It sounded more like what a surgeon would have to do. I asked her why she had to dissect dead bodies for physical therapy. She answered, “It was the most important class I took. I got to see where the muscles, bones, and nerves were in the human body and how they worked.” It then made sense to me. I looked at Carol in a different way after she told me that. She portrayed a brave and determined woman who was dedicated in becoming a physical therapist.
After two years of physical therapy school, Carol had to take a State Board test before she could get her physical therapy license. She had to study for months and review everything she had learned that last two years. The time had finally come for her to take the exam. I can only imagine how nervous she was after all she had to go through to be a physical therapist. This exam would determine if Carol would become what she longed to be. All her hard work and dedication had paid off because she passed the exam and got her physical therapy license.
Carol’s first job as a physical therapist was at a hospital in Shreveport, Louisiana. She came to learn that being an actual physical therapist was nothing like she had learned in school. She had to adapt to treatments to fit the needs of the patients. For instance, she had a patient that was a burn victim from a grease fire. Two thirds of the patient’s body had second and third degree burns on it. Carol had to take all the burned skin off her body by scrubbing, cutting, and tweezing the skin off. Then she applied medicine to the burns and bandaged it. When she told me this, I cringed just hearing how painful that had to be for the patient and even Carol. She must of saw me cringe because she said, “Don’t worry the patient was heavily sedated to have less pain.”
I was curious to know what other types of patients she had to work with. So Carol went on to tell me about a little boy she had to treat who had been in a car wreck and had a head injury. He was non-responsive and could only lie in the hospital bed. Carol did range of motion on his arms and legs so they would not get stiff. Then she had to stand him up on a table that tilted to an upright position to remind his brain and heart how it was to be standing up like he use to before his head injury. After months of doing this his brain started to heal as the swelling went down. I began to understand that being a physical therapist was not only a physical job but emotional as well. Working with a patient who can’t even respond, then seeing him become coherent would definitely take a toll on someone, especially knowing that you contributed to his recovery.
Carol got the opportunity to open up her own clinic in Baton Rouge, where she continues to work to this day. I asked her how Hurricane Katrina affected her. She told me she had never had so many patients at one time after it hit. She had to get more therapists to come help her. It is an outpatient clinic where she treats neck, back, and leg injuries. Carol asked me if I came in knowing what all physical therapists actually did. “I had no idea all the different types of cases you treat. I thought physical therapists strictly deal with healing people’s muscles.” I answered honestly. Carol replied in a warm voice, “Being a physical therapists is much more than that. You become the hope of so many patients life and they become a priority in your life. Every improvement a patient makes, you know you helped them accomplish. I get to see so many people’s life change for the better which is so rewarding. That is why I love my job.”
Now whenever I drive buy After Hours Physical Therapy I won’t have to wonder what is behind those huge tinted windows. Behind those windows is people in need of treatment and an inspiring woman who is more than happy to help these injured people. Carol McFarland definitely picked the right profession for her and others.
As I pulled into the After Hours Physical Therapy parking lot, I noticed a sign that read “If you are NOT a patient, please park around back!” I did what the sign said and pulled around to the back and parked. As I was about to open the door to enter, it opened automatically. Inside looked like a big gym where people work out. There were treadmills, stationary bicycles, weights, exercise balls, and other kinds of workout machines. As I began to look around at the people who were in there, they weren’t regular people who were trying to get fit or lose weight. They were people in wheelchairs, on crutches, and in braces. After I had figured out what was finally behind those tinted windows, I asked the receptionist if I could interview one of the physical therapists for my English 1001 class. She told me to go down the hall and it would be the third door on the right.
There was a gold plaque on the door that read, “Carol McFarland P.T.” I knocked on the door and I heard a high pitched voice telling me to come in. I opened the door and saw a lady sitting at her organized desk with short, curly, brown hair and a warming smile on her face. As I glanced around the room for a second, I noticed many framed certificates in a neat row across three of the walls. She asked, “How can I help you?” I briefly answered, “May I have a little bit of your time to interview you for my freshman writing at LSU?” She leaned back in her chair slightly and replied, “Of course you can.” We introduced ourselves and I sat down in the chair across from her. She had striking green almond shaped eyes with long dark lashes. Her skin was pale with freckles scattered across her face and arms. She wore a name tag on her white t-shirt that read, “Carol McFarland P.T.”
Carol had attended A&M University in College Station, Texas. She first wanted to be a P.E. coach, but realized that she didn’t want to pursue that anymore so she switched to geology. After a short time of studying geology, it no longer interested her. Carol decided she would try health education. She began reading a brochure about health professions and started reading about Physical Therapy. Growing up, Carol was always involved in athletics, so she knew when you get injured during a game; you get treated by Physical Therapist. She liked the idea of helping people get well and she had a real interest in it that kept her wanting to know more about physical therapy.
Carol began observing at a hospital in College Station where she got to help patients learn how to walk again after breaking their leg. She also helped strengthen elderly people’s muscles after they had a stroke. Even though she was not yet a certified Physical Therapist, she felt rewarded knowing that she had helped people in their recovery. As Carol talked she had a pleased look on her face and spoke with such sincerity. I realized how much compassion she has for her job and it made me feel good just knowing that.
Getting into physical therapy school was by no means easy. Carol had to take pre physical therapy classes to prepare to apply to physical therapy school. It’s very competitive to get in. They look at your grades, interview, and experience in physical therapy. Carol met all the requirements to get in. She started taking classes in physical therapy applications, neurology, and gross human anatomy. I asked her what gross human anatomy was because I had never heard of it. After I asked, she pulled her chair closer to the desk and said in a serious tone, “I had never experienced a class quite like it before. It was the hardest class I ever had to take.” She took in a deep breath and began telling me about it. Carol had to dissect cadavers, which are dead that had been donated to the school. At first I didn’t understand why she would have to do that for a physical therapy class. It sounded more like what a surgeon would have to do. I asked her why she had to dissect dead bodies for physical therapy. She answered, “It was the most important class I took. I got to see where the muscles, bones, and nerves were in the human body and how they worked.” It then made sense to me. I looked at Carol in a different way after she told me that. She portrayed a brave and determined woman who was dedicated in becoming a physical therapist.
After two years of physical therapy school, Carol had to take a State Board test before she could get her physical therapy license. She had to study for months and review everything she had learned that last two years. The time had finally come for her to take the exam. I can only imagine how nervous she was after all she had to go through to be a physical therapist. This exam would determine if Carol would become what she longed to be. All her hard work and dedication had paid off because she passed the exam and got her physical therapy license.
Carol’s first job as a physical therapist was at a hospital in Shreveport, Louisiana. She came to learn that being an actual physical therapist was nothing like she had learned in school. She had to adapt to treatments to fit the needs of the patients. For instance, she had a patient that was a burn victim from a grease fire. Two thirds of the patient’s body had second and third degree burns on it. Carol had to take all the burned skin off her body by scrubbing, cutting, and tweezing the skin off. Then she applied medicine to the burns and bandaged it. When she told me this, I cringed just hearing how painful that had to be for the patient and even Carol. She must of saw me cringe because she said, “Don’t worry the patient was heavily sedated to have less pain.”
I was curious to know what other types of patients she had to work with. So Carol went on to tell me about a little boy she had to treat who had been in a car wreck and had a head injury. He was non-responsive and could only lie in the hospital bed. Carol did range of motion on his arms and legs so they would not get stiff. Then she had to stand him up on a table that tilted to an upright position to remind his brain and heart how it was to be standing up like he use to before his head injury. After months of doing this his brain started to heal as the swelling went down. I began to understand that being a physical therapist was not only a physical job but emotional as well. Working with a patient who can’t even respond, then seeing him become coherent would definitely take a toll on someone, especially knowing that you contributed to his recovery.
Carol got the opportunity to open up her own clinic in Baton Rouge, where she continues to work to this day. I asked her how Hurricane Katrina affected her. She told me she had never had so many patients at one time after it hit. She had to get more therapists to come help her. It is an outpatient clinic where she treats neck, back, and leg injuries. Carol asked me if I came in knowing what all physical therapists actually did. “I had no idea all the different types of cases you treat. I thought physical therapists strictly deal with healing people’s muscles.” I answered honestly. Carol replied in a warm voice, “Being a physical therapists is much more than that. You become the hope of so many patients life and they become a priority in your life. Every improvement a patient makes, you know you helped them accomplish. I get to see so many people’s life change for the better which is so rewarding. That is why I love my job.”
Now whenever I drive buy After Hours Physical Therapy I won’t have to wonder what is behind those huge tinted windows. Behind those windows is people in need of treatment and an inspiring woman who is more than happy to help these injured people. Carol McFarland definitely picked the right profession for her and others.
Inked
Cade Vanderkamp
english 1001-110
october 16, 2007
Christine Ericson or “Trinity,” as most people know her is a young tattoo artist in Larose, Louisiana. When most people hear about Trinity’s work, they picture a big, tall man with tattooed sleeves going down his arms and sitting on top of a Harley. A lot of people also think that being a tattoo artist is an easy job and that the women cannot hang with the men.
All these ideas will soon change.
When I was on my way to meet Trinity, I assumed like most I was going to be talking to a big guy with lots of tattoos and a Harley, considering I heard Trinity road Harleys. I pulled up to the shop pulled the keys off my bike and walked in. When I walked in I noticed that the only person in the shop was a young girl, only nineteen or twenty, sitting behind the counter. I walked over asking her if this is the shop that Trinity worked at. She looked at me with a smile, “sure is what can I do for you.” Then it hit me, like a ton of bricks, she is Trinity. Wow, I thought I was coming here to interview a guy and here I am and he is a beautiful girl. As I stood there for a moment in shock, she got up and walked out from behind the counter, it was then I saw just how beautiful she was standing 5’7” with long brown hair. “So let me guess,” she said sarcastically, “you thought I was a guy with lots of tattoos and a Harley.” “I get that a lot,” she said with a smile. She was comfortable dressed in a black tank top and a blue jean skirt with a single Harley-Davidson tribal tattoo on her lower back. She was very sweet and very outgoing. When I asked her about interviewing her for a report she said, “of course you can, I’d love to help.”
Trinity was born and raised in Larose, Louisiana. From a young age she loved to watch her father, David, tattoo his clients. She often longed to learn the art, but her father always said it wasn’t a place for a girl. He tried for years to get her older brother Zack to pick up the needle, but he always refused to saying, “it’s not for me dad it never will be.” When Trinity was twelve her father realized that Zack was not going to ever become an artist, and he started to teach Trinity. After years of hard work studying her father’s movements with the gun and needle, she started to develop her own unique style. Once she developed this style she started to really get into tattooing people. She started out slow working on small tribal bands and doing touch up work, but it wasn’t before long that she was tattooing portraits and her own custom designed tribal art work. By age seventeen she had just finished high school at Central Lafourche High School, and was at the top of her game. Her fast track however was about to hit a road block.
Shortly after her graduation her father was involved in a car accident and died. Trinity was devastated and couldn’t even look at the shop or a tattoo. Zack told Trinity she could have the shop, the house, and their dads Harley-Davidson, after telling her this he loaded up his truck and took off to Florida. This did not help Trinity at all. It took two months for her just to walk back into the shop. Once she was able to handle the pain of her father’s death she started tattooing again.
Business was slow and getting even slower with the addition of another shop opening up while she was grieving. The other shop had pulled a lot of her father’s customers away from her, and others thought that a girl could not compete with a man when it came to tattooing. For months she barely scraped by and often thought of selling the shop but she could not sell it. The shop was her father’s dream and part of that dream was to pass it on to her, so no matter how hard things were she could not bring herself to sell the shop.
One afternoon she was just about to close up shop when one of her father’s old friends showed up. He looked at her and saw that she was devastated that the shop was failing. He told her she could turn it around. She looked at him and asked how because she had no customers and in the tattoo business customers are your advertisement agency as well as your income. He looked around the shop for a minute and saw a drawing, “what is this,” he asked. She looked over at him, “that it’s just a drawing I was working on.” With a smile he said, “so stick it,” and took off his shirt and laid across the table. She looked at him confused for a minute, then said, “Ok,” and got everything she was going to need. She carefully set everything she would need in place and prepared to tattoo her creation onto his back. This was going to be difficult though because a tattoo this intricate and this big would have to be done freehanded. She worked for five hours that night and finished all of the outlining. Two week passed and the old man came in again and asked if she was ready to finish. After four and a half hours of work her master piece was done. He stood up and looked into the mirror at his back and saw a perfect tattoo of an eagle soaring over a siloughette of a Harley with an American flag waving behind it. After he left that night and for weeks to come he showed everyone he knew his new tattoo and who the artist was.
The business started coming back slowly a few here a few there, but it was still hard to keep up with the other shops. A few months after the old man left the shop; a few bikers came into the shop and asked her if she was the girl who does the custom tattoo art. Before they left she had three appointments for custom tattoos with the promise of more to come. A few weeks later the bikers tattoo were complete and suddenly business started booming, turns out that those bikers where member of the Red Nights and Iron Worriors, two large motorcycle clubs. They showed their clubs their new tattoos and told them who the artist was and embers of their clubs started to go to Trinity for their tattoos. Since then she has had a thriving and competitive tattoo shop.
Not only is Trinity’s job trying at times, but also nerve racking. She is an artist who only has one shot at every masterpiece; there is no erasing, no back space button, and no undoing anything in ink. She is a woman running at the top of her game in an occupation dominated by men, and yet she preservers and raises above all the competition. Trinity is one tattoo artist who has changed my mind about the field she is in.
english 1001-110
october 16, 2007
Christine Ericson or “Trinity,” as most people know her is a young tattoo artist in Larose, Louisiana. When most people hear about Trinity’s work, they picture a big, tall man with tattooed sleeves going down his arms and sitting on top of a Harley. A lot of people also think that being a tattoo artist is an easy job and that the women cannot hang with the men.
All these ideas will soon change.
When I was on my way to meet Trinity, I assumed like most I was going to be talking to a big guy with lots of tattoos and a Harley, considering I heard Trinity road Harleys. I pulled up to the shop pulled the keys off my bike and walked in. When I walked in I noticed that the only person in the shop was a young girl, only nineteen or twenty, sitting behind the counter. I walked over asking her if this is the shop that Trinity worked at. She looked at me with a smile, “sure is what can I do for you.” Then it hit me, like a ton of bricks, she is Trinity. Wow, I thought I was coming here to interview a guy and here I am and he is a beautiful girl. As I stood there for a moment in shock, she got up and walked out from behind the counter, it was then I saw just how beautiful she was standing 5’7” with long brown hair. “So let me guess,” she said sarcastically, “you thought I was a guy with lots of tattoos and a Harley.” “I get that a lot,” she said with a smile. She was comfortable dressed in a black tank top and a blue jean skirt with a single Harley-Davidson tribal tattoo on her lower back. She was very sweet and very outgoing. When I asked her about interviewing her for a report she said, “of course you can, I’d love to help.”
Trinity was born and raised in Larose, Louisiana. From a young age she loved to watch her father, David, tattoo his clients. She often longed to learn the art, but her father always said it wasn’t a place for a girl. He tried for years to get her older brother Zack to pick up the needle, but he always refused to saying, “it’s not for me dad it never will be.” When Trinity was twelve her father realized that Zack was not going to ever become an artist, and he started to teach Trinity. After years of hard work studying her father’s movements with the gun and needle, she started to develop her own unique style. Once she developed this style she started to really get into tattooing people. She started out slow working on small tribal bands and doing touch up work, but it wasn’t before long that she was tattooing portraits and her own custom designed tribal art work. By age seventeen she had just finished high school at Central Lafourche High School, and was at the top of her game. Her fast track however was about to hit a road block.
Shortly after her graduation her father was involved in a car accident and died. Trinity was devastated and couldn’t even look at the shop or a tattoo. Zack told Trinity she could have the shop, the house, and their dads Harley-Davidson, after telling her this he loaded up his truck and took off to Florida. This did not help Trinity at all. It took two months for her just to walk back into the shop. Once she was able to handle the pain of her father’s death she started tattooing again.
Business was slow and getting even slower with the addition of another shop opening up while she was grieving. The other shop had pulled a lot of her father’s customers away from her, and others thought that a girl could not compete with a man when it came to tattooing. For months she barely scraped by and often thought of selling the shop but she could not sell it. The shop was her father’s dream and part of that dream was to pass it on to her, so no matter how hard things were she could not bring herself to sell the shop.
One afternoon she was just about to close up shop when one of her father’s old friends showed up. He looked at her and saw that she was devastated that the shop was failing. He told her she could turn it around. She looked at him and asked how because she had no customers and in the tattoo business customers are your advertisement agency as well as your income. He looked around the shop for a minute and saw a drawing, “what is this,” he asked. She looked over at him, “that it’s just a drawing I was working on.” With a smile he said, “so stick it,” and took off his shirt and laid across the table. She looked at him confused for a minute, then said, “Ok,” and got everything she was going to need. She carefully set everything she would need in place and prepared to tattoo her creation onto his back. This was going to be difficult though because a tattoo this intricate and this big would have to be done freehanded. She worked for five hours that night and finished all of the outlining. Two week passed and the old man came in again and asked if she was ready to finish. After four and a half hours of work her master piece was done. He stood up and looked into the mirror at his back and saw a perfect tattoo of an eagle soaring over a siloughette of a Harley with an American flag waving behind it. After he left that night and for weeks to come he showed everyone he knew his new tattoo and who the artist was.
The business started coming back slowly a few here a few there, but it was still hard to keep up with the other shops. A few months after the old man left the shop; a few bikers came into the shop and asked her if she was the girl who does the custom tattoo art. Before they left she had three appointments for custom tattoos with the promise of more to come. A few weeks later the bikers tattoo were complete and suddenly business started booming, turns out that those bikers where member of the Red Nights and Iron Worriors, two large motorcycle clubs. They showed their clubs their new tattoos and told them who the artist was and embers of their clubs started to go to Trinity for their tattoos. Since then she has had a thriving and competitive tattoo shop.
Not only is Trinity’s job trying at times, but also nerve racking. She is an artist who only has one shot at every masterpiece; there is no erasing, no back space button, and no undoing anything in ink. She is a woman running at the top of her game in an occupation dominated by men, and yet she preservers and raises above all the competition. Trinity is one tattoo artist who has changed my mind about the field she is in.
To Game or Not to Game
Juan Ortiz
October 16, 2007
English 1001-110
Lei Lani Michele
To Game or Not to Game
Some may wonder if the world of platform gaming is taken to far be the male gender in today’s society. To some men it is just a recreational tool, used when there is no other means of entertainment. However, to others, it is viewed as a way of life; where scheduling and rituals begin to come into play and consequences befall any one who so happens to interrupt a gaming session. But however it is looked at, the question still remains: Do men tend to push the limits between reality and what exist within the realm of “gaming”? Is it that they have nothing better to do with there time then to sit around trying to obtain the next level or is it merely an escape from the daily bothers that may range from stress at the job, all the way down to the nagging girlfriend? Well I thought, what better way is there to judge how men think than to ask a woman.
Thankfully I found such a woman who didn’t mind commenting on the views she had towards the relationship between video games and men. Katherine Cantwell is a freshman at Louisiana State University. A tall, slender woman with blonde her and bubbly personality; Katherine would be the envy of many gamers. She works as a hostess at a restaurant and if often knee deep in studying in order to make the much needed grade. However, she occasionally finds the time to accompany a group of her friends to their apartment in order for them to play video games and relax. I met with her in the pentagon court yard just before she left to this apartment in order to understand why men are viewed to be so obsessed with video games.
I began by asking her about her thoughts on gaming. Katherine admitted to being an avid player of Guitar Hero; a game that involves the player to use a mock guitar as a control stick and to strum buttons as if they were actual notes. She said, lightheartedly, that most of her friends played it quite often at their apartment and that they often fought over who would go next. “It’s our favorite,” she said with a smile on her face. On the other hand, outside of that she could not understand the fascination her “guy” friends had with FPS (First Person Shooters) games such as HALO 3, Call of Duty and Condemned. She began to talk about how she could never control the characters and how the constant spinning always seem to make her dizzy.
With the mention of HALO 3, I asked Katherine her thoughts on the reactions of her male friends during the recent release of the game. She began to laugh as she recalled some of the stories she had heard of her friends. One of her friends said that he had waited in front of the store for twelve hours in order to be the first in line for the release. She told me of another of her friends who had turned down sex from his girlfriend in order to play the game all night long, only to be found in the morning cuddled up along side the game box. I asked her if it could be just that the friend didn’t want any one to take the game while he slept after paying so much for it; especially if he bought the Legendary Edition. “I don’t understand what is so important about that game,” she said, “it’s just like the other two.” At that point I had to gather myself after such an insult to the HALO 3 but I was able to continue with the interview.
What about Hurricane Katrina I wondered. How did that affect your friends and gaming? “I lived in the point,” Katherine said as I watched an acorn fall on her head from the tree above, “so the power would go out all the time and it would always mess up the boy’s games, but when Katrina hit they went nuts without power for so long.” We both couldn’t help but laugh at the misfortune of a gamer without power.
Another hot topic in the realm of gamers is the massive movement known as WOW or World of Warcraft. It is a game with infinite possibilities, allowing its users to customize everything about there characters down to how big their nose is, sarcastically speaking. Katherine had again admitted to playing this but not nearly as much as she had played Guitar Hero. “The quest annoyed me and I just couldn’t get into the swing of things like the guys did”, said Katherine as she began fiddle with her phone. She told me of how a close friend of hers had lost her husband due to WOW. Apparently she found that her husband was cheating on her with an elf princess whose user lived in Maine. I asked if she thought her friend might have over reacted just a little bit to the situation. “Of course not, that was just the first step towards actually meeting with that woman.” she said with some authority. I could only sit and ponder.
One could ask if men take gaming too seriously, but why
would you. Is there really an issue if a college student would like to spend his spare time, and possible class time if necessary, submerged in a world of complete imagination where the only limitations are how far the controller will reach or how many people are in rotation with the controllers? Who’s to say that sixteen hours of straight gaming with no sleep is a bad thing? It requires concentration, commitment, and caffeine. All the basic needs of a college student, regardless of the practice time put in at the counsel. So what if men play more then forty hours a week, it only shows that we can commit if we truly want to. Who are you to judge: besides our wives and girlfriends.
October 16, 2007
English 1001-110
Lei Lani Michele
To Game or Not to Game
Some may wonder if the world of platform gaming is taken to far be the male gender in today’s society. To some men it is just a recreational tool, used when there is no other means of entertainment. However, to others, it is viewed as a way of life; where scheduling and rituals begin to come into play and consequences befall any one who so happens to interrupt a gaming session. But however it is looked at, the question still remains: Do men tend to push the limits between reality and what exist within the realm of “gaming”? Is it that they have nothing better to do with there time then to sit around trying to obtain the next level or is it merely an escape from the daily bothers that may range from stress at the job, all the way down to the nagging girlfriend? Well I thought, what better way is there to judge how men think than to ask a woman.
Thankfully I found such a woman who didn’t mind commenting on the views she had towards the relationship between video games and men. Katherine Cantwell is a freshman at Louisiana State University. A tall, slender woman with blonde her and bubbly personality; Katherine would be the envy of many gamers. She works as a hostess at a restaurant and if often knee deep in studying in order to make the much needed grade. However, she occasionally finds the time to accompany a group of her friends to their apartment in order for them to play video games and relax. I met with her in the pentagon court yard just before she left to this apartment in order to understand why men are viewed to be so obsessed with video games.I began by asking her about her thoughts on gaming. Katherine admitted to being an avid player of Guitar Hero; a game that involves the player to use a mock guitar as a control stick and to strum buttons as if they were actual notes. She said, lightheartedly, that most of her friends played it quite often at their apartment and that they often fought over who would go next. “It’s our favorite,” she said with a smile on her face. On the other hand, outside of that she could not understand the fascination her “guy” friends had with FPS (First Person Shooters) games such as HALO 3, Call of Duty and Condemned. She began to talk about how she could never control the characters and how the constant spinning always seem to make her dizzy.
With the mention of HALO 3, I asked Katherine her thoughts on the reactions of her male friends during the recent release of the game. She began to laugh as she recalled some of the stories she had heard of her friends. One of her friends said that he had waited in front of the store for twelve hours in order to be the first in line for the release. She told me of another of her friends who had turned down sex from his girlfriend in order to play the game all night long, only to be found in the morning cuddled up along side the game box. I asked her if it could be just that the friend didn’t want any one to take the game while he slept after paying so much for it; especially if he bought the Legendary Edition. “I don’t understand what is so important about that game,” she said, “it’s just like the other two.” At that point I had to gather myself after such an insult to the HALO 3 but I was able to continue with the interview.
What about Hurricane Katrina I wondered. How did that affect your friends and gaming? “I lived in the point,” Katherine said as I watched an acorn fall on her head from the tree above, “so the power would go out all the time and it would always mess up the boy’s games, but when Katrina hit they went nuts without power for so long.” We both couldn’t help but laugh at the misfortune of a gamer without power.
Another hot topic in the realm of gamers is the massive movement known as WOW or World of Warcraft. It is a game with infinite possibilities, allowing its users to customize everything about there characters down to how big their nose is, sarcastically speaking. Katherine had again admitted to playing this but not nearly as much as she had played Guitar Hero. “The quest annoyed me and I just couldn’t get into the swing of things like the guys did”, said Katherine as she began fiddle with her phone. She told me of how a close friend of hers had lost her husband due to WOW. Apparently she found that her husband was cheating on her with an elf princess whose user lived in Maine. I asked if she thought her friend might have over reacted just a little bit to the situation. “Of course not, that was just the first step towards actually meeting with that woman.” she said with some authority. I could only sit and ponder.
One could ask if men take gaming too seriously, but why
would you. Is there really an issue if a college student would like to spend his spare time, and possible class time if necessary, submerged in a world of complete imagination where the only limitations are how far the controller will reach or how many people are in rotation with the controllers? Who’s to say that sixteen hours of straight gaming with no sleep is a bad thing? It requires concentration, commitment, and caffeine. All the basic needs of a college student, regardless of the practice time put in at the counsel. So what if men play more then forty hours a week, it only shows that we can commit if we truly want to. Who are you to judge: besides our wives and girlfriends.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Student Interview
Nick Campo
LeiLani
English 1001-110
10/8/07
Student Interview
It was a rainy Sunday afternoon, the last day before our rough drafts were due when I thought all hope was lost. The Baton Rouge community’s homeless had left the city. I thought to myself, “Okay, one last trip down college and call it a day.” Just at the very end of the road, right before the overpass, there he was; my holy grail that had been eluding me all week. He was tall and gangly, had the appearance much like a skeleton. Very thin, sunken in eyes, and a grin that gave his harsh and dirty face a far removed look to it like he was watching life on a television screen. He was smiling at his Cracker Jack box like it was a golden medal earned after much hard work. I actually owe the interview solely to this Cracker Jack box because I would never have even seen this gentleman unless he had not flaunted them so proudly in front of my car. As soon as I did see him I knew he was the one for the job. I pulled over and offered him lunch if he would sit with me and answer a few questions. He was rather skeptical at first but when I told him we would be going to Hooters his distant grin turned into a mischievous one. He climbed into my car and my nostrils were immediately assaulted by the unbearable stench of the man. I did my best to act as if I did not notice, but it was tough, the smell was close to that of a cow pasture and gasoline. His skin was covered in dirt and grime, I noticed this when he shook my hand and I was left with an oily film on my own. I immediately rolled down the windows to the car and asked the man his name. He told me his name was Jake Richards and it had been a very long time since he was able to go to eat at Hooters. It was a short drive around the corner but it felt like forever, I could not wait to get his smell and dirt out of my car.
When we walked into Hooters we were looked at kind of oddly by the hostess but she quickly covered up her surprise to see someone like Jake, who did not really seem to notice or car, coming into the restaurant with a classic Hooters “I’m here to for your pleasure” smile. We got a table outside for the sake of the other patrons, ordered a few appetizers, and I began my questioning.
By the sheer looks of the poor fellow you could tell he has been down on his luck lately. He was wearing jeans that were so thin I do not think they were doing more than just concealing him, his shirt was ripped in many places, and a deeply faded green bucket cap with his long nappy hair protruding from the bottom of it. I began my questions with some basic ones so has not to scare him off or get to personal too soon, I asked him if he had noticed any change due to hurricane Katrina?
“That storm was like a blessing.” He went on to explain that because the storm surged so many people to Baton Rouge he was able to ask that many more individuals for money and in turn make more income. It made me laugh a little and I realized he was not laughing at all. It is hard to grasp, in my opinion, that this is his way of life. That if Jake does not find enough generous people in a week he will not eat for a week. No wonder he was so proud of his Cracker Jacks, they were probably the best meal he had had in a year. This brought me to my next question.
“Have you ever considered getting any sort of job?” This brought on a fit of laughter from my new buddy. He looked down at himself and said four simple words through a mouth full of fried pickles:
“Would you hire me?” I conceded the point, as I had mentioned earlier his appearance is not really up to par and these were probably the only set of clothes that he had. After this I kind of lost him for five minutes or so where he just began singing real low to himself. I have never really been around the homeless or the crazy to much so I just let him work it out of his system. After he finished his concert with a very obtrusive high note he looked at me and asked for more food. I figured this was coming so I got a few more appetizers and continued with the interview hoping that I would have enough information to end it soon.
After an awkward silence I asked him if he would describe an average day in the life of Jake for me. I was met with a blank stare. I was not sure if he was thinking about it, sleeping, or avoiding the question all together so I asked him again. This time he blinked and began talking as if it was the first time he had heard the question. He told me that he usually wakes up whenever it starts getting noisy; I would imagine that would be about six or seven. He then travels by foot up and down the highway until he finds where traffic is mostly jammed and, if he still has his sign from the day before begins begging this Louisiana community for whatever pieces of coin they might have to offer him. If he is hungry when he wakes up, Jake will go over to the McDonalds garbage, he says they have the best amount thrown away. He then continues to move around the city either just passing the time or finding friendly looking individuals to ask for a few cents. He seemed to have absolutely no idea about the jobs set up solely for the homeless, sadly I did not know enough to even point him in the right direction. I just told him to keep his ears open. Although I could tell him about one thing he might look in to trying. That was collecting cans and turning them in for a few cents a can. I told him it was not much but it was better than nothing and he could look into it.
I asked Jake how he ended up here in Baton Rouge and where his family was. He responded to me with something I did not really expect at all. Mr. Richards told me that he was born and raised here and at one time was actually enrolled at BRCC just down the street. I was astonished and needed to know more. He told me that one day he just could not take it anymore and he dropped out, he got by for a little while but he had not spoken to his family in a very long time and had no source of income. Jake said that one thing led to another until he could not afford rent. “At first it wasn’t so bad; it was just one night out of the week your friends wouldn’t take you that you were sleeping in a park. Then it becomes ‘hey, it’s not that bad it’s only two nights in the park,’ next thing you know your living in that park. None of your friends will even speak to you. And here I am.” Jake finished with a very somber look and I was truly sad for him. I asked him if he would have done anything different given a second chance. He shrugged and said probably not, “I just could not and cannot handle all this.” With the end of this question I got the bill and gave him a ride down the road where I dropped him off where I found him. Jake shook my hand and thanked me for the food and began walking off in the opposite direction.
Jake Richards was by far one of the most interesting characters I have ever met before. The interviewing process of this man was perhaps some of the most fun I never want to have again. From the way he smelled to the way he talked there was nothing very pleasant about Mr. Richards, but he is definitely some one I will probably remember for a long time. It was a sad thing to see someone with such obvious mental problems have no chance at succeeding just because he did not have any one to notice the problems early enough to do something about it. Maybe if his family would have been a bit closer they could gotten them taken care of, but who knows. Hopefully Jake will make it one day and be able to turn his life around.
Homer, Louisiana, the "home" of David Haynes
Eric Regard
English 1001
Ms. Lei Lani Michel
9 October 2007
Homer, Louisiana, the “home” of David Haynes
If someone were to say that they know where Homer, Louisiana is, they probably live near by. In fact, very few people live in Homer or can say that they are a product of Homer. My friend David, on the other hand, isn’t one of those people. In July of 1988, David Haynes was born in this small town to one of the few wealthy families within miles of this city. With a population of just over 3,500 people, Homer is located in Claiborne parish which shares a border with Arkansas, in north Louisiana. With this being said, you may have acquired small picture of my subject’s hometown on this online interview.
Before stepping foot on the Louisiana State University campus I was also one of the many people who had not heard of Homer. This changed the day that my new neighbor in Baton Rouge introduced himself to me. As I walked away from our introduction to one another, I was left with many questions that I wished to be answered. First of which, where the hell is Homer? The LSU freshmen that lives into the same condominium complex as me, is about 5’10’’ with a stocky build. After meeting David, I realized that it was his truck which was blocking me in the previous evening, in the parking lot. The fact that David drives a truck was of no surprise to me due to his country accent and the abundance of people from rural areas, that I’ve met, who own trucks. David’s sister Amanda and I had also introduced ourselves to one another that day. Homer seemed to have yielded yet another unique individual in my perspective, in regards to Amanda. David and Amanda both talk with extremely soft voices and carry themselves in a manner that is very tranquil, as if they have never had a problem in their lives.
This encounter with the Haynes family was followed by a few weeks of separation between them and myself. This time spent away from my newly acquired neighbors, built up an abundance of eagerness to learn more about these people. In our first weeks of residence, David would often be found drinking a beer and sitting in the above-ground swimming pool that was constructed by him and his friends. Assuming that this was a commonly practiced custom in Homer, I did not think too much of this rare site of four college kids swimming together in a pool with a twelve foot diameter.
After my time in Greek Rush was completed, I noticed that David had also undergone the strenuous process of deciding which fraternity to pledge to. David’s choice was Kappa Alpha which was my second pick. Many of my friends from Shreveport had also joined “KA” and became good friends with David. At that time, I still wouldn’t consider myself a friend of David’s, just an acquaintance. My level of friendship with David was altered drastically when I approached him to do a student interview for my English 1001 class.
David and I both had a mutual understanding of the fact that Homer was a city in Louisiana that not too many people have heard of. This small town evidently posted no threat to David having a good time. A barrage of stories, which consisted of crazy country nights and Claiborne Academy football practices, led off our interview. David once found himself in the bed of a truck, speeding down a back-road, in the effort of evading the Claiborne Country Sherriff. The cause of this high-speed chase is still unknown to David yet he has a scar to prove the validity of this story. As his buddy, who was driving this belligerently intoxicated, slammed on the brakes to swerve off into a cornfield, David came flying towards the front of the truck. His head hit the back window, which cracked it and left David with a two-inch gash on the top of his head. David produced many other stories during our interview but none as interesting as that one. I cannot recall a time in my life when a night with my friends, unfolded remotely close to an event such as this one. The only explanation I can find for this is the distance that exists between Homer and Shreveport. A strange fact that David seemed eager to tell me was that the only Wal-Mart in the world to have closed down after opening, was located in Homer. The reason that the closing of this Wal-Mart was such a big deal to David was due to the fact that it was one of the few places for the younger residents of Homer to hang out on weekends. I can honestly say that a grocery store was never on my mind when considering somewhere to meet up with my friends on Friday night. Only a town such a Homer would be able to claim such a feat. David also enlightened me of what it was like to graduate with a class of twenty-one people and enter a state university with more than 40,000 students. “It’s a little different than back home,” was the phrase that David used to describe this change in his life. Knowing the name of everyone in his school didn’t seem to be as big of a deal to David as it was to me but I also didn’t live in a town as small as this one.
I think David’s upbringing in a small town such as Homer is the root of his personality. David doesn’t need to go out every night or get drunk to have a good time. He can sit around with a few of the guys and talk for hours and have as good of a time that “Tiger Land” could show him. I don’t believe that young people now, who grow up in a suburban area or in a big city, possess those qualities. Growing up in Homer was also advantageous in another sense. David was not affected by Hurricane Katrina. Hurricane Katrina was brushed upon in our discussion but did not consume much of our time. He told me of a fund raiser that his school sponsored to help those in need yet he was not affected in the brutal way New Orleans was, due to the location of Homer in North Louisiana. David’s feelings towards those affected were summed up in the statement, “I guess it takes something big like that to make you put your life in perspective and thank God for what he has given you.” Knowing that someone who comes across as possessing the “tough-guy” image, could say something to that nature is hard to believe. This is an example of the effect that a tragic event can have on a large amount of people and how something like this can bring people closer together as it did to David and I, in our interview even though we weren’t directly affected by its damage.
Overall, it has truly been an experience to encounter someone such as David and have the time to get to know him and his family. This is truly a friendship that I believe I will maintain throughout my college and adult life. Realizing how a person’s beginning can affect their future was pointed out to me in this essay. This connection was made clear when descriptions of his home life and his current life were evident in my observations during our interview. This interview has produced a lifelong friend of mine and you and I can both now say that we have heard of Homer, Louisiana.
English 1001
Ms. Lei Lani Michel
9 October 2007
Homer, Louisiana, the “home” of David Haynes
If someone were to say that they know where Homer, Louisiana is, they probably live near by. In fact, very few people live in Homer or can say that they are a product of Homer. My friend David, on the other hand, isn’t one of those people. In July of 1988, David Haynes was born in this small town to one of the few wealthy families within miles of this city. With a population of just over 3,500 people, Homer is located in Claiborne parish which shares a border with Arkansas, in north Louisiana. With this being said, you may have acquired small picture of my subject’s hometown on this online interview.
Before stepping foot on the Louisiana State University campus I was also one of the many people who had not heard of Homer. This changed the day that my new neighbor in Baton Rouge introduced himself to me. As I walked away from our introduction to one another, I was left with many questions that I wished to be answered. First of which, where the hell is Homer? The LSU freshmen that lives into the same condominium complex as me, is about 5’10’’ with a stocky build. After meeting David, I realized that it was his truck which was blocking me in the previous evening, in the parking lot. The fact that David drives a truck was of no surprise to me due to his country accent and the abundance of people from rural areas, that I’ve met, who own trucks. David’s sister Amanda and I had also introduced ourselves to one another that day. Homer seemed to have yielded yet another unique individual in my perspective, in regards to Amanda. David and Amanda both talk with extremely soft voices and carry themselves in a manner that is very tranquil, as if they have never had a problem in their lives.
This encounter with the Haynes family was followed by a few weeks of separation between them and myself. This time spent away from my newly acquired neighbors, built up an abundance of eagerness to learn more about these people. In our first weeks of residence, David would often be found drinking a beer and sitting in the above-ground swimming pool that was constructed by him and his friends. Assuming that this was a commonly practiced custom in Homer, I did not think too much of this rare site of four college kids swimming together in a pool with a twelve foot diameter.
After my time in Greek Rush was completed, I noticed that David had also undergone the strenuous process of deciding which fraternity to pledge to. David’s choice was Kappa Alpha which was my second pick. Many of my friends from Shreveport had also joined “KA” and became good friends with David. At that time, I still wouldn’t consider myself a friend of David’s, just an acquaintance. My level of friendship with David was altered drastically when I approached him to do a student interview for my English 1001 class.
David and I both had a mutual understanding of the fact that Homer was a city in Louisiana that not too many people have heard of. This small town evidently posted no threat to David having a good time. A barrage of stories, which consisted of crazy country nights and Claiborne Academy football practices, led off our interview. David once found himself in the bed of a truck, speeding down a back-road, in the effort of evading the Claiborne Country Sherriff. The cause of this high-speed chase is still unknown to David yet he has a scar to prove the validity of this story. As his buddy, who was driving this belligerently intoxicated, slammed on the brakes to swerve off into a cornfield, David came flying towards the front of the truck. His head hit the back window, which cracked it and left David with a two-inch gash on the top of his head. David produced many other stories during our interview but none as interesting as that one. I cannot recall a time in my life when a night with my friends, unfolded remotely close to an event such as this one. The only explanation I can find for this is the distance that exists between Homer and Shreveport. A strange fact that David seemed eager to tell me was that the only Wal-Mart in the world to have closed down after opening, was located in Homer. The reason that the closing of this Wal-Mart was such a big deal to David was due to the fact that it was one of the few places for the younger residents of Homer to hang out on weekends. I can honestly say that a grocery store was never on my mind when considering somewhere to meet up with my friends on Friday night. Only a town such a Homer would be able to claim such a feat. David also enlightened me of what it was like to graduate with a class of twenty-one people and enter a state university with more than 40,000 students. “It’s a little different than back home,” was the phrase that David used to describe this change in his life. Knowing the name of everyone in his school didn’t seem to be as big of a deal to David as it was to me but I also didn’t live in a town as small as this one.
I think David’s upbringing in a small town such as Homer is the root of his personality. David doesn’t need to go out every night or get drunk to have a good time. He can sit around with a few of the guys and talk for hours and have as good of a time that “Tiger Land” could show him. I don’t believe that young people now, who grow up in a suburban area or in a big city, possess those qualities. Growing up in Homer was also advantageous in another sense. David was not affected by Hurricane Katrina. Hurricane Katrina was brushed upon in our discussion but did not consume much of our time. He told me of a fund raiser that his school sponsored to help those in need yet he was not affected in the brutal way New Orleans was, due to the location of Homer in North Louisiana. David’s feelings towards those affected were summed up in the statement, “I guess it takes something big like that to make you put your life in perspective and thank God for what he has given you.” Knowing that someone who comes across as possessing the “tough-guy” image, could say something to that nature is hard to believe. This is an example of the effect that a tragic event can have on a large amount of people and how something like this can bring people closer together as it did to David and I, in our interview even though we weren’t directly affected by its damage.
Overall, it has truly been an experience to encounter someone such as David and have the time to get to know him and his family. This is truly a friendship that I believe I will maintain throughout my college and adult life. Realizing how a person’s beginning can affect their future was pointed out to me in this essay. This connection was made clear when descriptions of his home life and his current life were evident in my observations during our interview. This interview has produced a lifelong friend of mine and you and I can both now say that we have heard of Homer, Louisiana.
Jay from the Blend
Daniel Donovan 10/16/07
Interview Paper
Lei Lani Michel
My father works as a plant manager at a gas refinery, and is on call 24/7, in Chalmette, LA. Chalmette, a rather smaller town right outside New Orleans that has served greatly to the Louisiana community, was unfortunately destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. Since my dad is on call we receive phone calls quite frequently from the refinery on our home phone line. Over the years the same few people are always calling. One In particular sticks out in my head like a sore thumb. A man, as I know him, called “Jay from the Blend.” I can remember accepting calls from him for a long time, so long in fact, I could tell it was him by the sound of his voice the instant he spoke his first words in a gruff voice of exhaustion, which usually were “Hey, which kid is this?” (He said this because they are 6 of us kids). After which he would reply, “This is Jay from the Blend, is your dad around?” after about a year we would just hand the phone to our dad and say it’s “Jay” as opposed to “Jay from the Blend.”
For years, all I ever knew about the infamous Jay Calen, A.K.A. Jay from the Blend, was the sound of his distinct voice via phone line, and that he worked at the refinery with my dad. After all these years of frequently answering his phone calls for my dad, it took an assignment in English 1001 class at LSU to finally get the opportunity to get to know him a little more. So after the Saints game, I went down to the Chalmette Refinery with my dad to get the chance to interview this man I’ve known as “Jay from the blend” all of these years. Before arriving I created an image in my head of what to expect Jay Calen to look like, as well as his work environment and other office features. I imagined a mid to late 40 year-old with a short crew cut with a scruffy looking beard, glasses, and dressed in your everyday office clothes. I pictured a classic office, with chairs, desks, unorganized papers, water jugs with the cone shaped cups, and some sort of decoration.
When we arrived we had to park in the lot by my dad’s office, which was located nowhere near Jay, due to security purposes. My dad and I rode in a white extended golf cart clear across the refinery to the building where Jay was working. When I arrived in his office my dad pointed out who Jay was; he looked to be out fifty five to sixty years old, gray balding hair, cleanly shaven face, and a bit of a belly that extended out over his belt line. He was wearing this very vivid royal blue suit which had a large ExxonMobil logo on the back, with a hard hat, rather large heavy looking black boots, and eye goggles on top of his hard hat. The real image of Jay just so happened to resemble nothing that I imagined. Just as if I were on the phone talking to me, the first words he said were “Which kid are you?” As I shook his hand I replied “Daniel,” and he began to tell me a little about himself
Jay Calen was born September 13, 1951 in the city of New Orleans, LA. He grew up right outside New Orleans in a city called Metarie. He has lived in Louisiana his entire life and according to Jay “There isn’t a better place in America than right here in New Orleans.” Jay’s favorite part of New Orleans is the food cuisine accompanied by the Jazz music. When he was a youngster he always wanted to go into a field related to automobiles or machinery. “I don’t know what it is, but ever since I can remember I have just always enjoyed finding ways to fix things or make them better.” When Jay was a kid him and his father would always go to junkyards to find old car parts, and attempt to get them working on an extra car they had, just for fun. Jay believes that is why he enjoys dealing with machinery and engines so much, due to the time he got to spend with his father. Jay attended high school at East Jefferson High School, after which he immediately started working. His first job was as a mechanic at Big Easy Automotive Repair. Jay commented about this job “I absolutely hated working there, I wasn’t enjoying myself one bit. The only good thing I got from it was to never give my car to a mechanic for repair.” After searching for a week or two he found an opening as a maintenance man at the Chalmette Refinery.
Jay said he fell in love with the refinery from the first day “The people I was working with couldn't have been a better group to work with; otherwise I wouldn’t still be here after 38 years of it. Although there were some days that I would work 24 hours in a row and I thought about just walking off the job site and quitting, I truly did, and still do, love my job.” After about 10 minutes or so of my student interview with Jay I got a pretty good handle on what he was like. He seemed to me, to be a hard working, blue-collar type working man, that didn’t mind having to do a little hard work every now and again to get the job done. He has plenty of proof to prove it as well, by starting out making slightly above minimum wage, working 40 hours a week, and performing tasks that required constant manual labor to where he is now, which is a supervisor in the Blending Department of the Chalmette Refinery, making “light-years” more than he use to, as Jay puts it.
Upon asking him what it was like working in the aftermath of Katrina he replied “In all my years of work at this refinery, nothing was more draining, both physically and mentally, than having to work through the times directly after Katrina. It was absolute chaos trying to get in touch with those who were displaced, as well as trying to get help for those who were suffering from near depression after they had lost everything they ever had.” Jay said he could remember trying to get through to people on their cell phone from dusk one evening till dawn of the next. “Even 2 whole years after Katrina, this refinery still isn’t what it used to be. The number of employees has dropped a bit, the total mind set of many has changed, and things just aren’t the same as they use to be.”
After a couple of minutes, I got to asking Jay Calen if there was anything he would have change about himself, or what he had done over the past years. He replied “I definitely regret not having more of a priority on academics as student in high school. If I could go back and do it again I would keep up my grades and attend a four year University after high school and pursue a college degree. It would have saved me from having to do a lot of hard work, and earned me a lot better of a yearly income than I am making without a college degree.”
So, even though I’m up at college more than I am at home, one time while I’m on a break from school and at home, and answer a call for my dad from guy named Jay, it will no longer be “Jay from the blend,” it will be Jay the guy who enjoys golfing, or Jay the guy who worked very hard to have the position he has now. I have learned a lot from Jay Calen, he has made an impact on me by showing what hard work, despite the seemingly un-performable conditions can bring to someone. Some time in my life I will encounter a situation that presents conditions that are seemingly impossible to succeed in, upon which, thinking about what an individual like Jay was able to accomplish through hard work, and his ability to enjoy the people he is around will provide me a little bit of guidance to persevere through the tough times.
Profile- Blaine Boudreaux
Blaine Boudreaux
Lei-Lani Michel
English 1001 Section 110
15 October 2007
Profile
James Corporation, an asphalt construction company in Opelousas, Louisiana was affected by Hurricane Katrina in different ways. I interviewed Mr. Hubert, the co-owner and accountant of the company. The interview went really well and I learned a lot about how this company was affected due to Hurricane Katrina. Business seems to change a lot due to major natural disasters.
James Corporation is located in Opelousas, Louisiana. It is uncertain how the company was started because I was unable to speak with the founder of the company, Mr. Laddie James. Unfortunately, Mr. James passed away recently. However, I was able to speak with a co-owner and the accountant of the company, Mr. Hubert. Mr. Hubert’s father was good friends with Mr. James. This is part of the reason how Mr. Hubert got his job at James Corporation. Mr. Hubert’s father had known Mr. James for many years prior to Mr. Hubert’s employment to the company. Mr. Hubert attended the University of Louisiana at Lafayette where he majored in accounting. He graduated with a bachelor’s degree. He then decided to apply for employment at James Corporation where he is still working today.
Mr. Hubert was born and raised in Opelousas, Louisiana, the same city where James Corporation is located. He has been in Opelousas his whole life. He grew up on a farm in Lawtell, a small town outside of Opelousas. His father was a farmer and his mother was a homemaker. He lived on the farm until he graduated high school. When he graduated high school, he moved to Lafayette and stayed in a residence hall at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette. Upon graduating from college, he applied for employment with James Corporation. Mr. Hubert is still working there to this day.
During pre-Katrina, business was going pretty well. During pre-Katrina, the main business occurring was mainly road improvement projects. Normal business was about 2-3 road projects per week. Pre-Katrina, the road projects were going fairly well accomplishing 2-3 projects per week. Although business was doing reasonably well during pre-Katrina, it was soon to have drastic changes. Business changed drastically as soon as Hurricane Katrina made landfall.
During Hurricane Katrina, business was at the lowest it had been in several years. The business wasn’t accomplishing anything during Hurricane Katrina. There were no road projects being assigned to them at this time. This caused business to fall drastically. Natural disasters not only hurt businesses right then but also in the future. Natural disasters harm the business greatly because roads are destroyed and the business cannot start working on them until all the rubble and trash is cleared up.
Post-Katrina, in return, helped bring up the business. After the hurricane, business picked up rather quickly due to many much needed road repairs. Many roads had been destroyed during Hurricane Katrina. This caused many projects to be assigned to the company so that the roads would be fixed properly. The business was helped by this and helped even out the business from the loss that had occurred due to Hurricane Katrina.
I found that conducting this student interview for English 1001 was very helpful in getting the information that was needed to write this profile. Interviewing can teach one a lot about a certain subject that could possibly be needed to get information to write a paper about something. Interviewing Mr. Hubert taught me a lot about the company and the effects that occurred in the business during Hurricane Katrina.
golf
Kevin Bohrer
10/09/07
English 1001
Golf
Andrew Loupe, a student-athlete who excels at golf, is a freshman at LSU. He is also taking freshman writing at LSU. He has been playing golf in the Louisiana community since he was seven years old. When I told Andrew about the student interview I had to do, he suggested that I do him. This sounded like a good idea because I know Andrew has been one of the best golfers in the state since 8th grade.
I went and met him at the driving range at the University Club golf course. He was wearing a white collared shirt tucked into his crisp khakis with a white LSU visor to match. It was here where I got to see his golf skills first-hand, and I must say I was impressed. We walked up to the range and as he picked up the first ball and put it on the tee he looked at me and said “watch this.” At first I laughed, but I couldn’t tell if he was joking or being cocky but either way I watched. He was amazing, he could drive the ball 300 yards perfectly straight and chip the ball anywhere he wanted to almost flawlessly. When I asked Andrew what he does to keep his skills so tuned, he looked at me almost like I brought up a sensitive subject and said “well not only do we practice every day, we have 6 A.M. workouts three times a week where we do things like running up tiger stadium multiple times, 50 yard sprints and a bunch of different conditioning exercises that you don’t even want to know about.” 6 A.M. workouts is pretty serious conditioning if you ask me, I don’t know if I would want to go through that, so I asked him if he thought it was worth it. “You know, I ask myself the same thing sometimes, but I have to remind myself that I want this to be my career after college, so I can’t let a few sacrifices affect my game.” Before that comment I had no idea he had aspirations of being a professional golfer, which was pretty interesting because that meant I could be seeing this guy on ESPN one day.
When he asked me if I wanted to stick around and watch him play a few holes, I quickly agreed just to see how good a potential professional golfer really is. As we walk in the shop to get a golf cart, there are two guys working, who both turn to the door when we go in. As soon as Andrew gets in the store, both of the guys smile, almost like they are sucking up to him, and call his name out as if they were so excited to see him. After Andrew talked to about 10 different older men that all acted like they were his best friend, we finally got in our cart and headed to the first hole. I guess you could say he was a celebrity over there.
As we pulled up to the first hole there was someone standing by himself at the tee. He apparently was meeting Andrew there to play together, which I was unaware of. His name was Clayton and he was also on the LSU golf team. He set up his ball to hit first, and it looked like a good shot to me, it was almost to the green. Andrew lined up his shot next, but when he hit the ball instead of going straight it went to the left into a sand trap. He screamed a few profane words and almost threw his club on the ground. Clayton and I got pretty quiet, apparently golf is a pretty emotional sport. I was also surprised because I figured he would have hit the ball perfectly, but I realized pretty soon that even the best golfers don’t hit it perfect every time. He made up for it on his next shot when he hit it onto the green from the sand trap. He ended up birdying the hole which was pretty impressive considering how bad his first shot was. I asked him if there were any initiations or hazing involved in being a freshman on the golf team. He said “No, the only thing i’ve ever had to do is carry the ice chest to the tailgate at the football games, other than that I’m pretty much treated as an equal.”
After about the third hole, 30 minutes later, that was enough for me. Andrew had not been playing good and it was making me pretty uncomfortable how angry he was getting. He kept reassuring me that he was better than he was playing at that time, I guess he didn’t want me to write a bad paper about him. We drove the cart back to the club house, and of course we had to stop at both holes before to talk to people he knew. He told me “I don’t even know most of these people’s names,” so I made a joke about him being famous and he got kind of offended. I could tell he took golf extremely serious, but you can’t really blame him if he plans on going pro.
Despite his less than perfect play that day, I looked up some of his stats from high school online. He won the state championship his 8th grade year at Episcopal High School in Baton Rouge. Not only that, but he won it two more times after that. He lost his senior year to another up and coming golf star in Baton Rouge, but he says he just played bad that match. His stats were very impressive and I would have to say he was the best in the state during his time in high school.
10/09/07
English 1001
Golf
Andrew Loupe, a student-athlete who excels at golf, is a freshman at LSU. He is also taking freshman writing at LSU. He has been playing golf in the Louisiana community since he was seven years old. When I told Andrew about the student interview I had to do, he suggested that I do him. This sounded like a good idea because I know Andrew has been one of the best golfers in the state since 8th grade.
I went and met him at the driving range at the University Club golf course. He was wearing a white collared shirt tucked into his crisp khakis with a white LSU visor to match. It was here where I got to see his golf skills first-hand, and I must say I was impressed. We walked up to the range and as he picked up the first ball and put it on the tee he looked at me and said “watch this.” At first I laughed, but I couldn’t tell if he was joking or being cocky but either way I watched. He was amazing, he could drive the ball 300 yards perfectly straight and chip the ball anywhere he wanted to almost flawlessly. When I asked Andrew what he does to keep his skills so tuned, he looked at me almost like I brought up a sensitive subject and said “well not only do we practice every day, we have 6 A.M. workouts three times a week where we do things like running up tiger stadium multiple times, 50 yard sprints and a bunch of different conditioning exercises that you don’t even want to know about.” 6 A.M. workouts is pretty serious conditioning if you ask me, I don’t know if I would want to go through that, so I asked him if he thought it was worth it. “You know, I ask myself the same thing sometimes, but I have to remind myself that I want this to be my career after college, so I can’t let a few sacrifices affect my game.” Before that comment I had no idea he had aspirations of being a professional golfer, which was pretty interesting because that meant I could be seeing this guy on ESPN one day.
When he asked me if I wanted to stick around and watch him play a few holes, I quickly agreed just to see how good a potential professional golfer really is. As we walk in the shop to get a golf cart, there are two guys working, who both turn to the door when we go in. As soon as Andrew gets in the store, both of the guys smile, almost like they are sucking up to him, and call his name out as if they were so excited to see him. After Andrew talked to about 10 different older men that all acted like they were his best friend, we finally got in our cart and headed to the first hole. I guess you could say he was a celebrity over there.
As we pulled up to the first hole there was someone standing by himself at the tee. He apparently was meeting Andrew there to play together, which I was unaware of. His name was Clayton and he was also on the LSU golf team. He set up his ball to hit first, and it looked like a good shot to me, it was almost to the green. Andrew lined up his shot next, but when he hit the ball instead of going straight it went to the left into a sand trap. He screamed a few profane words and almost threw his club on the ground. Clayton and I got pretty quiet, apparently golf is a pretty emotional sport. I was also surprised because I figured he would have hit the ball perfectly, but I realized pretty soon that even the best golfers don’t hit it perfect every time. He made up for it on his next shot when he hit it onto the green from the sand trap. He ended up birdying the hole which was pretty impressive considering how bad his first shot was. I asked him if there were any initiations or hazing involved in being a freshman on the golf team. He said “No, the only thing i’ve ever had to do is carry the ice chest to the tailgate at the football games, other than that I’m pretty much treated as an equal.”
After about the third hole, 30 minutes later, that was enough for me. Andrew had not been playing good and it was making me pretty uncomfortable how angry he was getting. He kept reassuring me that he was better than he was playing at that time, I guess he didn’t want me to write a bad paper about him. We drove the cart back to the club house, and of course we had to stop at both holes before to talk to people he knew. He told me “I don’t even know most of these people’s names,” so I made a joke about him being famous and he got kind of offended. I could tell he took golf extremely serious, but you can’t really blame him if he plans on going pro.
Despite his less than perfect play that day, I looked up some of his stats from high school online. He won the state championship his 8th grade year at Episcopal High School in Baton Rouge. Not only that, but he won it two more times after that. He lost his senior year to another up and coming golf star in Baton Rouge, but he says he just played bad that match. His stats were very impressive and I would have to say he was the best in the state during his time in high school.
A Glimpse of Louisiana: Louisiana, the New Atlantis?
The Louisiana community has many problems, but one that people may not be aware of is the loss of wetlands. According to Merriam-Webster Online, a wetland is defined as land or areas (as marshes or swamps) that are covered, often intermittently, with shallow water or have soil saturated with moisture; a technical definition that does nothing for people. So let me put in a way that you can understand.
Wetlands are, as some environmentalist say, “nature’s sponge.” One of the main things that they do is absorb the water before they hit the lakes or river, thus preventing harmful pesticides, factory waste, heavy metals or other pollutants from entering our water supply. Let’s face it, no one wants to become a freak of nature by drinking tap water. Wetlands are also a natural filter, by filtering out nitrogen and phosphorus from the water, which if they stayed would cause an increase of algae causing a decrease of oxygen, thus killing all the fish.
So let me relate this information to you as it affects Louisiana. I had a very interesting conversation with an old friend of my dad. His name is Burt St Cyr. He graduated from Lamar University in Beaumont, Texas with a degree in Environmental Science. I asked him why wetlands are so important to Louisiana. He said that in Louisiana’s case it is flood protection. The wetlands absorb or assimilate a lot of water, so when you lose wetlands you are unable to absorb as much water, causing flooding.
He went on to say that there are two major reasons why there is a decrease in wetlands in our state. The number one cause being a loss of sedimentation from the Mississippi River. According to Answer.com, after the Civil War the Mississippi River did not return back to the greatness that everyone so vividly remembers from the writings of Mark Twain. So to help bring the river back to its “Golden Years,” Congress instituted the Mississippi River Commission in 1879. This provided the means to continue improving and maintaining the Mississippi River as an effective and efficient commercial waterway. In later years, this meant deepening some of the channels so large barges and boats could more easily navigate the river. It is well known that now in the twenty-first century that the Mississippi River is responsible for over half of the freight transportation on American inland water. But this is not the main reason for the loss in sedimentation.
Flooding has been a major problem in the Mississippi River Valley. “I remember going fishing with a guy and as we were fishing he told me that he remembered that this spot had been a cow field about five years ago,” said Mr. St Cyr. Even when the Mississippi River was first discovered by Hernando de Soto in 1541, he noted a large amount of flooding. Evidence can be traced back to the Native Americans who lived in the area. They built their homes on the higher land or built their homes upon man made mounds, revealing that they too realized the Mississippi River’s ability to flood. It has been a constant battle with the river over the years, but it wasn’t until in the 1930’s when flood control levees were built to help control seasonal flooding. In return, this has caused and converted a lot of the Mississippi Floodplain into farmland. This conversion has lead to two major problems: the loss of our state wetlands, and the creation of the “dead zone,” which is an area in the Gulf of Mexico where there is a small amount of aquatic life due to insanely and abnormally low amounts of oxygen. Mr. St Cyr continued on saying the second reason why we are losing our wetlands is due to development. “People love to live on the water, but in doing so they end up filling in the wetland so they can build on it.”
Curious about how people could stand by and let this happen, I asked him how the public could be made more aware of this problem. He said that most of the projects for awareness are funded by the state, rather than the federal government. The media has had a lot of information, but they refer to it as coastal erosion which is misleading, due to the fact that erosion is a natural process. The main reason is the loss of the sedimentation. According to Ameriawetland.com, there are currently 598 projects that have been constructed in Louisiana, 44 of those are state funded. Only 35 out of the 598 are federally assisted. About a year ago, a big campaign came across in newspapers called Parish Coastal Wetlands Program (PCWP), better known to you as the Christmas Tree Program. The idea came from the Netherlands who created this erosion control technique. It was first introduced here in Louisiana in 1989 in St. Charles Parish at the La Branche Wetlands. The PCWP says it is so effective because it creates a marsh habitat, more public awareness and education, and it is recycling. This Christmas marks the 17th year of this program and currently 250 acres of marsh have been protected and or created.
So let me put things in prospective for you. According to Mr. St Cyr, there was a study done a couple of years ago that said that there was enough sediment that passed down the Mississippi River each hour to fill up Tiger Stadium, aka Death Valley, to the brim. In doing some research of my own, it was said that between 1990 and 2000 wetland loss was at a rate of approximately 24 square miles a year, which is equal to one football field every 38 minutes. It is estimated that 500 square miles will be lost over the next 50 years with the current conservation efforts taken into account and that 217 square miles of marsh were turned into open water from hurricanes Rita and Katrina. These are the facts. Chilling aren’t they? “There is no simple solution to this,” says Mr. St Cyr, “but it is critical that we do something, otherwise half our state will be gone.” And he is right. If we don’t start coming up with a solution to this problem, then we better figure out a way to grow gills because this ship is going down.
By: Lauren Cates
English 1001-110
Freshman Writing at LSU
Wetlands are, as some environmentalist say, “nature’s sponge.” One of the main things that they do is absorb the water before they hit the lakes or river, thus preventing harmful pesticides, factory waste, heavy metals or other pollutants from entering our water supply. Let’s face it, no one wants to become a freak of nature by drinking tap water. Wetlands are also a natural filter, by filtering out nitrogen and phosphorus from the water, which if they stayed would cause an increase of algae causing a decrease of oxygen, thus killing all the fish.
So let me relate this information to you as it affects Louisiana. I had a very interesting conversation with an old friend of my dad. His name is Burt St Cyr. He graduated from Lamar University in Beaumont, Texas with a degree in Environmental Science. I asked him why wetlands are so important to Louisiana. He said that in Louisiana’s case it is flood protection. The wetlands absorb or assimilate a lot of water, so when you lose wetlands you are unable to absorb as much water, causing flooding.
He went on to say that there are two major reasons why there is a decrease in wetlands in our state. The number one cause being a loss of sedimentation from the Mississippi River. According to Answer.com, after the Civil War the Mississippi River did not return back to the greatness that everyone so vividly remembers from the writings of Mark Twain. So to help bring the river back to its “Golden Years,” Congress instituted the Mississippi River Commission in 1879. This provided the means to continue improving and maintaining the Mississippi River as an effective and efficient commercial waterway. In later years, this meant deepening some of the channels so large barges and boats could more easily navigate the river. It is well known that now in the twenty-first century that the Mississippi River is responsible for over half of the freight transportation on American inland water. But this is not the main reason for the loss in sedimentation.
Flooding has been a major problem in the Mississippi River Valley. “I remember going fishing with a guy and as we were fishing he told me that he remembered that this spot had been a cow field about five years ago,” said Mr. St Cyr. Even when the Mississippi River was first discovered by Hernando de Soto in 1541, he noted a large amount of flooding. Evidence can be traced back to the Native Americans who lived in the area. They built their homes on the higher land or built their homes upon man made mounds, revealing that they too realized the Mississippi River’s ability to flood. It has been a constant battle with the river over the years, but it wasn’t until in the 1930’s when flood control levees were built to help control seasonal flooding. In return, this has caused and converted a lot of the Mississippi Floodplain into farmland. This conversion has lead to two major problems: the loss of our state wetlands, and the creation of the “dead zone,” which is an area in the Gulf of Mexico where there is a small amount of aquatic life due to insanely and abnormally low amounts of oxygen. Mr. St Cyr continued on saying the second reason why we are losing our wetlands is due to development. “People love to live on the water, but in doing so they end up filling in the wetland so they can build on it.”
Curious about how people could stand by and let this happen, I asked him how the public could be made more aware of this problem. He said that most of the projects for awareness are funded by the state, rather than the federal government. The media has had a lot of information, but they refer to it as coastal erosion which is misleading, due to the fact that erosion is a natural process. The main reason is the loss of the sedimentation. According to Ameriawetland.com, there are currently 598 projects that have been constructed in Louisiana, 44 of those are state funded. Only 35 out of the 598 are federally assisted. About a year ago, a big campaign came across in newspapers called Parish Coastal Wetlands Program (PCWP), better known to you as the Christmas Tree Program. The idea came from the Netherlands who created this erosion control technique. It was first introduced here in Louisiana in 1989 in St. Charles Parish at the La Branche Wetlands. The PCWP says it is so effective because it creates a marsh habitat, more public awareness and education, and it is recycling. This Christmas marks the 17th year of this program and currently 250 acres of marsh have been protected and or created.
So let me put things in prospective for you. According to Mr. St Cyr, there was a study done a couple of years ago that said that there was enough sediment that passed down the Mississippi River each hour to fill up Tiger Stadium, aka Death Valley, to the brim. In doing some research of my own, it was said that between 1990 and 2000 wetland loss was at a rate of approximately 24 square miles a year, which is equal to one football field every 38 minutes. It is estimated that 500 square miles will be lost over the next 50 years with the current conservation efforts taken into account and that 217 square miles of marsh were turned into open water from hurricanes Rita and Katrina. These are the facts. Chilling aren’t they? “There is no simple solution to this,” says Mr. St Cyr, “but it is critical that we do something, otherwise half our state will be gone.” And he is right. If we don’t start coming up with a solution to this problem, then we better figure out a way to grow gills because this ship is going down.
By: Lauren Cates
English 1001-110
Freshman Writing at LSU
A Queen in the Making
Samantha Stein
Ms. Lei Lani
English 1001
16 October 2007
A Queen in the Making
Ms. Lei Lani
English 1001
16 October 2007
A Queen in the Making
A short balding man with a pointed noise, thin lips, and a slight Louisiana accent, Ricky Bordelon’s job stings and buzzes; he is a bee keeper. Ricky’s grandfather started E.J. Bordelon Apiaries more than 75 years ago in Hamburg Louisiana and is one of only three apiary companies in the Louisiana community. Ricky explained that “an apiary is another word for a bee yard where bee hives of honey are kept.” His grandfather E.J. started raising bees in the 1920’s as a hobby with one hundred fifty hives which were later taken over by his three sons. The three sons began selling queen bees “up north” where it is too cold to raise queens.
Unlike most apiaries in the country, Ricky’s company doesn’t sell honey. “Honey only goes for sixty cents a pound, not nearly enough to raise a family.” explained Ricky. In order for Ricky to make a large profit from honey, he would have to increase the number of his hives which is of no interest to him. E. J. Bordelon Apiaries “fools mother nature” by making queen bees. The fifteen day process starts when tiny eggs are grafted from a breeder queen. Ricky’s company buys four to five breeder queens each year from California; each breeder queen cost about 400 dollars. As he adjusted his glasses, Ricky said “Breeder queens are used as a way to ensure pure breeding among the bees.” This year, Ricky is using Minnesota Hygiene Bees as breeders because they best resist the viruses carried by bees that can kill a hive; Minnesota Hygiene Bees were first created at the University of Minnesota in 1995.
Eggs laid by the breeder queen take 36 hours to hatch into larvae. Ricky and his team of workers collect larvae from the breeder queens. The delicate larvae are handled using a small rod that resembles a “crochet needle” because it has a hook on the end. Ricky carefully places the larvae into “cell builders or cell cups” which are a set of connected compartments made of plastic that house a larva until they are hatched. The cell cups used are larger than a natural larvae cell. The size difference determines whether the bee will be a queen or a worker. Ricky and his workers place about 36,000 larvae into cell builders per day; 85% of the larvae will survive.
Ten days later, the larvae are placed into the cell cups; Ricky’s team of workers places the larvae into incubator for a day until the queen larvae are less than 30 hours from hatching. Ricky explained the importance of tracking the metamorphosis; newly emerged queens will cut a slit in other cells in the incubator and sting the other queens to death in order to insure “a seat in the throne.” The mature larvae are placed into nukes. Ricky used his hands to gesture a shape of a nuke. A nuke is a miniature square beehive made of two wooden frames and a feeder. The nuke contains worker bees left a day without a queen. In the nuke, worker bees realize that there is no queen and begin to feed the larger cell cup with plenty of royal jelly. Ricky explained that royal jelly is secreted by the salivary glands of the worker bees; the larger amounts of royal jelly produce a bee of “royal blood” or a queen bee.
A royal larva will hatches into a “virgin” bee which is a bee that has never mated. Eight to nine days after hatching, a virgin bee will fly off to mate; she returns to the nuke three days later to lay eggs. Ricky then catches the queen, cages her up and ships her to northern state. The next day Ricky places a new queen in the nuke; the nuke is used 6 times in a season.
Ricky ships the queen bee in a small cage with three holes; the cage contains a small candy made of powdered sugar and corn syrup. The small piece of food is mixed by Ricky who claims to have a special eye for the correct consistency; “too soft, the candy will melt, too hard, the bee won’t eat it.” One queen bee from Ricky cost $11 though his son wants to raise the price to make a larger profit. Other bee vendors range in location from California, Texas, Florida, Mississippi, and Georgia. Ricky explained that “apiaries that sell queens are found in the south because the season starts earlier and ends later than northern states. “ The southern season starts in March and ends in August. The northern season starts in June and ends in July. The price an individual queen bee rages from $8 to $16. Ricky also sells two and three pound packages of worker bees; a three pound package cost $44. Packages are used to build bigger hives and are placed into hives with a pre-existing queen. Ricky mainly sells his queens and packages to northerners who collect bees as a hobby. Hurricane Katrina had no affect on Ricky’s business because of his northern location in Avoyelles Parish, all of his customers are from the north, and he was already finished for the season.
During the season, Ricky relies on 5 to 6 workers to maintain and feed the hives. His sons Joey and Jeremy Bordelon also put in their share of work aside from their day jobs. In the off season Ricky uses 1 to 2 workers to maintain feeding. When the weather is cloudy or rainy the bees are more aggressive and sting more. The tips of Ricky’s fingers are hard and callused; Ricky can watch a bee sting his finger and feel nothing. At the peak of the season Ricky’s finger tips peel, crack, and bleed from the amount of stings. So why doesn’t he where gloves? Ricky can only use his bare fingers to catch the queen. The queen must be delicately caught by the wings to ensure her survival. Ricky said “I only wear a head vale to protect me from mosquitoes not really bees.” Ricky and his employees also wear a special body suite to protect themselves from the stings. Ricky estimated that he receives about 100 to 200 stings a day, even with the protective gear. Once, a bee flew into Ricky’s ear; he said “it sounded like it was in my brain.” He tried to get it out with a rusty nail that he found lying around, but the bee remained stuck until he shook his head enough. The bee never stung him; it just flew right out. The gear the beekeepers wear along with the materials used to raise the bees is purchased from a bee supply house. Ricky maintains 11,000 hives in his apiary.
Ricky isn’t sure what will become of his bee company. He hopes one of his two sons will take over the business. Ricky hopes for his business to grow and to continue to supply his customers. Ricky ended the interview by saying “’If the bee disappeared off the surface of the globe then man would have four years of life left‘ that’s from Albert Einstein, make sure you put that in your paper!” Ricky wanted to show how important bees are in the pollination of vital vegetation to animals and humans.
Online Interview
Michael Boutte
English 1001-110
Lei Lani Michel
Profile Paper
Online Interview
The first time I meet Like Louis was at Woodruff Boy Scout Reservation in Northern Georgia. On Tuesday a thunderstorm came across the camp, therefore Mike, five of the adult leaders, and I gathered under a wooden pavilion that could barely fit the seven of us. While we sat under the pavilion, I noticed Mike seemed introverted, like me, because he sat on the end of the bench not saying anything; he just stared at the rain. Eventually, the adults began to talk about the Iraq War, as they always do, and then another side of Mike came out of nowhere. He began to debate with them about an exit strategy, our purpose for beginning there, and etc. During the argument all five adults singled out Mike, but he still had an instant reply for every statement they said. This particular event amazed me because whenever I converse with a group of people I do not have anyone that shares my views on the topic. Also, Mike never made up information when he debated with people, for he used the facts about the subject. His vast knowledge baffled people and they wondered where he received his education; he answered Syracuse University.
Mike discovered Syracuse University when he vacationed in the Northeast with his family during the summer of his junior year. They drove to upstate New York and decided to visit Syracuse University. Originally, Syracuse did not interest him but he decided to take a tour since his dad, Brett Louis, heard they were a high ranked school. Once he entered the campus his thoughts about the university began to change rapidly. First, he noticed the abundant green healthy trees and the round topped mountains in the background. Then, he went on a tour of the campus and he said, “Everyone seemed very happy, and they looked like they loved the school they were in.” The first building he viewed was their three story red-orange bricked library. He walked in and saw rows of shelves filled with all kinds of books, periodicals, and magazines. He also noticed hundreds of brown desk with numerous students diligently doing their school work. Mike asked the tour guide if he had a calendar of the events that take place on campus, so the guide brought him to the university calendar on one of their black dell computers. The calendar showed at least two events every day ranging from speakers, concerts, and club meetings. This was exactly what Mike wanted to see because he did not want to be bored in college. Later, he came across the tan photo journalism building with its six towering Roman columns. Also, dark green bushes followed the side walk to the entrance and formed a perimeter around the building. They went inside and the tour guide stopped an old gray and white haired professor who cheerfully came to speak with them. He proudly said, “I have worked at Syracuse for twenty years,” and he spoke about their highly ranked status among other universities. At the end of the tour, Mike enthusiastically told his father, “I want to go to Syracuse!”
Mike enjoyed his time at Syracuse and participated in many extra curricular activities. During his freshmen year he joined the newspaper staff and became a photographer since he wanted to major in photo journalism major. He became friends with the newspaper staff, for they did homework and went to movies and concerts together. As hobbies, Mike took pictures and played pranks on his friends. One day Mike got offended when his friend, Dan, made fun of him for watching “The Cosby Show”, which aired on Nickelodeon, because Dan believed the show seemed childish. Two days later Mike decided to play a prank on Dan who was homophobic. Mike and Dan’s roommate, Roger, taped pictures of nude men on every square inch of wall in Dan’s room. Dan came home from class at about 3:00 p.m. while Mike and Roger quietly waited in the living room on the black sofa as if they did nothing wrong. Dan walked straight into his room, completely oblivious to the situation, and furiously said, “What the hell is this guys.”
While Mike knew how to have fun, he was focused on his school work. He knew the difference between the time to play and the time to work. He did not find his class to be difficult except for his mathematics courses, for he struggled with math since he was in highs school. He had difficulty with it because he could not understand why he needed to know subjects like calculus. Outside of his “useless” math classes, he took a psychology class as an elective during his freshmen year, and the class became a changing point in his life. The class interested him even more than photo journalism. “That was my first psychology class I ever took and I never really knew how interesting it really was,” said Mike. The following semester he not only signed up for another psychology class but also a political science course. He wanted to learn more about both sides of the political world since he was born into a republican family and attended a majority democrat college. These classes intrigued Mike so much that during his sophomore year he changed his major to psychology and minored in political science.
Mike had no regrets about his change in majors. He loved every class he took that related to either psychology or political science, and he enjoyed psychology that focused on children the most. During his junior year, he joined a research club that conducted psychology projects. One of the projects required him to teach second and third graders. He and his classmates volunteered at a local grammar school and offered after school tutoring. Some of the students had mental disorders such as autism. These students became a challenge because they did not want to talk to Mike and would kick and scream randomly. During his time tutoring, he believed that explaining to the parents the effects of their child’s disorder was the most difficult aspect since the parents did not completely understand the disorder.
After multiple tutoring sessions and classes, Mick’s graduation, May 2005, finally arrived. Two months after his graduation he enrolled in Louisiana Sate University to attend graduate school. He chose L.S.U. not only because his friend, Peter, agreed to share an apartment with him near campus, but also his girlfriend, Diana, lived in Baton Rouge whom he kept a long distance relationship with for the past four years. Unfortunately, Hurricane Katrina gave Mike a poor glimpse of Louisiana for his first year of graduate school. The storm’s wind, rain, and flooding did not directly affect him, but his family from New Orleans did cause several conflicts. They rented an apartment directly under Mike’s apartment for about three months. Mike did not want them living that close to him because they treated him like a child. They tried controlling every aspect of his life, for they asked him what he was doing and where he was everyday. As a result from Mike’s obnoxious parents, he scored a letter grade below what he wanted on his test. Luckily before the next semester began, his parents moved back to New Orleans and he was able to focus on school and his new job as a psychology teacher assistant.
English 1001-110
Lei Lani Michel
Profile Paper
Online Interview
The first time I meet Like Louis was at Woodruff Boy Scout Reservation in Northern Georgia. On Tuesday a thunderstorm came across the camp, therefore Mike, five of the adult leaders, and I gathered under a wooden pavilion that could barely fit the seven of us. While we sat under the pavilion, I noticed Mike seemed introverted, like me, because he sat on the end of the bench not saying anything; he just stared at the rain. Eventually, the adults began to talk about the Iraq War, as they always do, and then another side of Mike came out of nowhere. He began to debate with them about an exit strategy, our purpose for beginning there, and etc. During the argument all five adults singled out Mike, but he still had an instant reply for every statement they said. This particular event amazed me because whenever I converse with a group of people I do not have anyone that shares my views on the topic. Also, Mike never made up information when he debated with people, for he used the facts about the subject. His vast knowledge baffled people and they wondered where he received his education; he answered Syracuse University.
Mike discovered Syracuse University when he vacationed in the Northeast with his family during the summer of his junior year. They drove to upstate New York and decided to visit Syracuse University. Originally, Syracuse did not interest him but he decided to take a tour since his dad, Brett Louis, heard they were a high ranked school. Once he entered the campus his thoughts about the university began to change rapidly. First, he noticed the abundant green healthy trees and the round topped mountains in the background. Then, he went on a tour of the campus and he said, “Everyone seemed very happy, and they looked like they loved the school they were in.” The first building he viewed was their three story red-orange bricked library. He walked in and saw rows of shelves filled with all kinds of books, periodicals, and magazines. He also noticed hundreds of brown desk with numerous students diligently doing their school work. Mike asked the tour guide if he had a calendar of the events that take place on campus, so the guide brought him to the university calendar on one of their black dell computers. The calendar showed at least two events every day ranging from speakers, concerts, and club meetings. This was exactly what Mike wanted to see because he did not want to be bored in college. Later, he came across the tan photo journalism building with its six towering Roman columns. Also, dark green bushes followed the side walk to the entrance and formed a perimeter around the building. They went inside and the tour guide stopped an old gray and white haired professor who cheerfully came to speak with them. He proudly said, “I have worked at Syracuse for twenty years,” and he spoke about their highly ranked status among other universities. At the end of the tour, Mike enthusiastically told his father, “I want to go to Syracuse!”
Mike enjoyed his time at Syracuse and participated in many extra curricular activities. During his freshmen year he joined the newspaper staff and became a photographer since he wanted to major in photo journalism major. He became friends with the newspaper staff, for they did homework and went to movies and concerts together. As hobbies, Mike took pictures and played pranks on his friends. One day Mike got offended when his friend, Dan, made fun of him for watching “The Cosby Show”, which aired on Nickelodeon, because Dan believed the show seemed childish. Two days later Mike decided to play a prank on Dan who was homophobic. Mike and Dan’s roommate, Roger, taped pictures of nude men on every square inch of wall in Dan’s room. Dan came home from class at about 3:00 p.m. while Mike and Roger quietly waited in the living room on the black sofa as if they did nothing wrong. Dan walked straight into his room, completely oblivious to the situation, and furiously said, “What the hell is this guys.”
While Mike knew how to have fun, he was focused on his school work. He knew the difference between the time to play and the time to work. He did not find his class to be difficult except for his mathematics courses, for he struggled with math since he was in highs school. He had difficulty with it because he could not understand why he needed to know subjects like calculus. Outside of his “useless” math classes, he took a psychology class as an elective during his freshmen year, and the class became a changing point in his life. The class interested him even more than photo journalism. “That was my first psychology class I ever took and I never really knew how interesting it really was,” said Mike. The following semester he not only signed up for another psychology class but also a political science course. He wanted to learn more about both sides of the political world since he was born into a republican family and attended a majority democrat college. These classes intrigued Mike so much that during his sophomore year he changed his major to psychology and minored in political science.
Mike had no regrets about his change in majors. He loved every class he took that related to either psychology or political science, and he enjoyed psychology that focused on children the most. During his junior year, he joined a research club that conducted psychology projects. One of the projects required him to teach second and third graders. He and his classmates volunteered at a local grammar school and offered after school tutoring. Some of the students had mental disorders such as autism. These students became a challenge because they did not want to talk to Mike and would kick and scream randomly. During his time tutoring, he believed that explaining to the parents the effects of their child’s disorder was the most difficult aspect since the parents did not completely understand the disorder.
After multiple tutoring sessions and classes, Mick’s graduation, May 2005, finally arrived. Two months after his graduation he enrolled in Louisiana Sate University to attend graduate school. He chose L.S.U. not only because his friend, Peter, agreed to share an apartment with him near campus, but also his girlfriend, Diana, lived in Baton Rouge whom he kept a long distance relationship with for the past four years. Unfortunately, Hurricane Katrina gave Mike a poor glimpse of Louisiana for his first year of graduate school. The storm’s wind, rain, and flooding did not directly affect him, but his family from New Orleans did cause several conflicts. They rented an apartment directly under Mike’s apartment for about three months. Mike did not want them living that close to him because they treated him like a child. They tried controlling every aspect of his life, for they asked him what he was doing and where he was everyday. As a result from Mike’s obnoxious parents, he scored a letter grade below what he wanted on his test. Luckily before the next semester began, his parents moved back to New Orleans and he was able to focus on school and his new job as a psychology teacher assistant.
Recalling The Past
Lauren Herbert
English 1001
10/8/2007
Profile
Think of how it would be like to walk around with cardboard in the soles of your shoes instead of going to the store and buying a brand new pair. Imagine having to ration the food you eat everyday with coupons so you and your family won’t run out later in the month, or having a birthday with no cake on your special day. Now I want you to picture having a loved one, an uncle, a brother, or a father, leave you to fight in a war and you will most likely not hear about them for months at a time. As millennials, those born in the 1980’s, our generation has yet to experience a war that has completely altered our way of life. With this in mind, it was enlightening to talk with Mrs. Dorthey Modeen and listen to her experience of a teenage girl’s life during World War II.
Mrs. Modeen has lived in my neighborhood for over 26 years and has known my family and me for 19 of those years. She is a sweet, eighty-one year old lady who always has a healthy appetite for conversation, whether it be a concern for a fellow neighbor’s health, what kind of weather to expect that week, what kind of recipes would be interesting to try, or simply to enjoy having company to share time with. Since Mrs. Modeen lives a lone, my mom and her will occasionally run errands together and when Mrs. Modeen goes out of town to visit family, she will ask me to watch her cat, Rudy. At eighty-one Mrs. Modeen is real trooper, she is a breast and colon cancer survivor for the past five years, just gone through knee replacement surgery, and still finds the energy to walk through her yard with her cane, picking up fallen branches from the past storm. When I called Mrs. Modeen on the phone and asked her if it was possible for me to interview her for my English 1001 class, she said she was more than happy to be interviewed and for me to come on over. She seemed really pleased at the opportunity of having a guest over at her house.
Twelve seconds later I knocked on my neighbor’s door and was greeted by Mrs. Modeen where she proceeded to usher me into the living room and have a seat. It was a cozy setting; a fireplace was in the middle of the wall, next to the back door I had just come through. The fireplace mantel was completely decorated with photographs ranging from the old black and white pictures of Mrs. Modeen’s late husband to the digital photos of her grandchildren. In the middle of the room was a small coffee table with magazines such as Better Home and Gardens and Time on it. Flanking the table were two chairs, an antique wine colored wingback, and an adjustable Lay-Z-Boy recliner. The third wall was lined with a small library of mystery and suspense books, a large collection of movies by Alfred Hitchcock, and an old fashion radio from the 50’s.
I took a seat in the antique wingback while Mrs. Modeen shuffled over the recliner; she picked up a remote and the chair rose up to meet her halfway so she wouldn’t strain her knee. When she was finally situated, I asked her if she could tell me a little bit about her life during the 1940’s. She immediately dove into a brief history of the war, going into events such as the bombing of Pearl Harbor and the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Her left hand would twist and flick on her wrist as she lectured me on significant events of the war. It was a good ten minutes until I could ask her about her life personally during that time.
Mrs. Modeen’s teenage years were during a time of national uproar with the bombing of Pearl Harbor and careful management with ration coupons. Mrs. Modeen and her younger brother lived with her aunt at the time, while her mother worked. The three would give their weekly food coupons to Mrs. Modeen’s mother, so she would pick up their rations. She explained that items such as gas, tires, sugar, meat, butter, shoes all were strictly rationed or unattainable because they were going to the war effort. Even luxury items such as nylon were impossibly hard to come by, “They would use the nylon to make parachutes for the paratroopers.” I asked her if she and her friends just went without stockings at the time; she shook her head, “Ohh no,” she softly cooed with a small chuckle. She went on to say that even though they were in ration, the stockings were still in style, so instead of going out in public with no stockings, Mrs. Modeen and her friends would paint their legs with make-up. It would work for a little while; until the make-up started to rub off on the skirts the girls would wear.
I asked Mrs. Modeen what school life was like, especially with a draft in effect. She told me that many of her schoolmates were either drafted or volunteered. When I asked her if this bothered her seeing her friends leave and maybe not return, she said no. She went on to say she felt proud of what her friends were doing for their country and thought it was the right thing for young men to do at the time. There was one thing about school at the time she was upset about, and it involved her math teacher. The teacher was in charge of not only teaching senior math, but also in the training of the young men in the signal corps. While in the math class, the teacher would purposely ignore the female students and only call on the male students. When I asked Mrs. Modeen what the purpose of that was, she said she wasn’t positive, but it must have been because the math teacher wanted his boys properly prepared for when they left to go fight in the war.
Mrs. Modeen also participated in the war effort during that time. She was a member of what she called the Senior Girl Scouts, basically Girl Scouts for older members. She and her troop would volunteer at the hospitals; this included visiting the patients and carrying trays of food to different patients, this way they would relieve the nurses. Saving things like newspapers became routine for Mrs. Modeen and her family; all the cans from the canned food that they bought would be saved, cleaned out, the ends cut out, and then flattened. All these materials would be recycled and put to use in the war effort.
Mrs. Modeen’s older brother was stationed in the navy at Okinawa a few months after Pearl Harbor. When I asked her if it was a difficult time for her then, her eyes widened, “Ohh yes.” She went on to say that even though radio had come a long way, the news still didn’t travel fast enough. All she and her family could do was wait on letters, which were not that reliable, or on news reports. The combination of the fear for her brother, along with the constant tension of not knowing, was something she said she never wanted to relive.
Another subject that was brought up was politics, mostly Mrs. Modeen’s opinion of the actions of the government during World War II and the present day government. She felt that even though the government in 1944 went to extreme measures to end the war, the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, it had to be done. “It was the lesser of two evils,” she said. I asked what she meant by that comment, she explained that it was better that the United States bomb the two cities, than have the world powers continue fighting the war, which she believed would have stretched on far longer than it originally did. I asked her what she thought of the administration during the Hurricane Katrina disaster compared to the administration under President Roosevelt and President Truman, she replied she believed the political parties present during her teenage years were much more competent than the present administration. “Political parties back then [in the 1940’s] could have a different opinion and argue about it, then go out that same night and have dinner together.” The point she was trying to make was that even though the politicians had their own opinions and ideas, the different parties had a common goal back then, and that was what was in the best interest for the people of the United States. Mrs. Modeen went on to explain that the current politicians now are too involved with their own political careers and party affiliation to have the people’s best interest at heart. She pointed out the disaster of hurricane Katrina for an example, she believed that the Louisiana community didn’t receive help right away because its governor at the time was of a different political party than the president. I had to agree with her that there did seem to be more political corruption now than there was fifty years ago, but when I asked Mrs. Modeen if she had lost all faith in the current government, she said she was somewhat content with it. Even though there was much corruption in her opinion, she believed there were still a few politicians out there that did not cater to lobbyist.
When we were done with the student interview I got up from old wingback and Mrs. Modeen pressed the remote again and her recliner began to tip forward so she could get up. She walked me to the door and I thanked her for her time, she smiled, said it was a pleasure and to call her if I had any more questions. I thoroughly enjoyed talking with my neighbor; it was interesting to find out Mrs. Modeen’s personal prospective on her life during that time. I find it fascinating how different generations all go through the same phases of aging, but we take such different routes along the way. In Mrs. Modeen’s generation, the majority were contributing to the war in anyway they could; the generation that would come soon after would be know for their passionate protests against the war in Vietnam. One comment that really stood out from the whole interview was Mrs. Modeen’s opinion when said she felt very proud of they way the U.S. government handle World War II. She admired the way the government worked hard to unify the country in a common goal and inspire patriotism in its people.
English 1001
10/8/2007
Profile
Think of how it would be like to walk around with cardboard in the soles of your shoes instead of going to the store and buying a brand new pair. Imagine having to ration the food you eat everyday with coupons so you and your family won’t run out later in the month, or having a birthday with no cake on your special day. Now I want you to picture having a loved one, an uncle, a brother, or a father, leave you to fight in a war and you will most likely not hear about them for months at a time. As millennials, those born in the 1980’s, our generation has yet to experience a war that has completely altered our way of life. With this in mind, it was enlightening to talk with Mrs. Dorthey Modeen and listen to her experience of a teenage girl’s life during World War II.
Mrs. Modeen has lived in my neighborhood for over 26 years and has known my family and me for 19 of those years. She is a sweet, eighty-one year old lady who always has a healthy appetite for conversation, whether it be a concern for a fellow neighbor’s health, what kind of weather to expect that week, what kind of recipes would be interesting to try, or simply to enjoy having company to share time with. Since Mrs. Modeen lives a lone, my mom and her will occasionally run errands together and when Mrs. Modeen goes out of town to visit family, she will ask me to watch her cat, Rudy. At eighty-one Mrs. Modeen is real trooper, she is a breast and colon cancer survivor for the past five years, just gone through knee replacement surgery, and still finds the energy to walk through her yard with her cane, picking up fallen branches from the past storm. When I called Mrs. Modeen on the phone and asked her if it was possible for me to interview her for my English 1001 class, she said she was more than happy to be interviewed and for me to come on over. She seemed really pleased at the opportunity of having a guest over at her house.
Twelve seconds later I knocked on my neighbor’s door and was greeted by Mrs. Modeen where she proceeded to usher me into the living room and have a seat. It was a cozy setting; a fireplace was in the middle of the wall, next to the back door I had just come through. The fireplace mantel was completely decorated with photographs ranging from the old black and white pictures of Mrs. Modeen’s late husband to the digital photos of her grandchildren. In the middle of the room was a small coffee table with magazines such as Better Home and Gardens and Time on it. Flanking the table were two chairs, an antique wine colored wingback, and an adjustable Lay-Z-Boy recliner. The third wall was lined with a small library of mystery and suspense books, a large collection of movies by Alfred Hitchcock, and an old fashion radio from the 50’s.
I took a seat in the antique wingback while Mrs. Modeen shuffled over the recliner; she picked up a remote and the chair rose up to meet her halfway so she wouldn’t strain her knee. When she was finally situated, I asked her if she could tell me a little bit about her life during the 1940’s. She immediately dove into a brief history of the war, going into events such as the bombing of Pearl Harbor and the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Her left hand would twist and flick on her wrist as she lectured me on significant events of the war. It was a good ten minutes until I could ask her about her life personally during that time.
Mrs. Modeen’s teenage years were during a time of national uproar with the bombing of Pearl Harbor and careful management with ration coupons. Mrs. Modeen and her younger brother lived with her aunt at the time, while her mother worked. The three would give their weekly food coupons to Mrs. Modeen’s mother, so she would pick up their rations. She explained that items such as gas, tires, sugar, meat, butter, shoes all were strictly rationed or unattainable because they were going to the war effort. Even luxury items such as nylon were impossibly hard to come by, “They would use the nylon to make parachutes for the paratroopers.” I asked her if she and her friends just went without stockings at the time; she shook her head, “Ohh no,” she softly cooed with a small chuckle. She went on to say that even though they were in ration, the stockings were still in style, so instead of going out in public with no stockings, Mrs. Modeen and her friends would paint their legs with make-up. It would work for a little while; until the make-up started to rub off on the skirts the girls would wear.
I asked Mrs. Modeen what school life was like, especially with a draft in effect. She told me that many of her schoolmates were either drafted or volunteered. When I asked her if this bothered her seeing her friends leave and maybe not return, she said no. She went on to say she felt proud of what her friends were doing for their country and thought it was the right thing for young men to do at the time. There was one thing about school at the time she was upset about, and it involved her math teacher. The teacher was in charge of not only teaching senior math, but also in the training of the young men in the signal corps. While in the math class, the teacher would purposely ignore the female students and only call on the male students. When I asked Mrs. Modeen what the purpose of that was, she said she wasn’t positive, but it must have been because the math teacher wanted his boys properly prepared for when they left to go fight in the war.
Mrs. Modeen also participated in the war effort during that time. She was a member of what she called the Senior Girl Scouts, basically Girl Scouts for older members. She and her troop would volunteer at the hospitals; this included visiting the patients and carrying trays of food to different patients, this way they would relieve the nurses. Saving things like newspapers became routine for Mrs. Modeen and her family; all the cans from the canned food that they bought would be saved, cleaned out, the ends cut out, and then flattened. All these materials would be recycled and put to use in the war effort.
Mrs. Modeen’s older brother was stationed in the navy at Okinawa a few months after Pearl Harbor. When I asked her if it was a difficult time for her then, her eyes widened, “Ohh yes.” She went on to say that even though radio had come a long way, the news still didn’t travel fast enough. All she and her family could do was wait on letters, which were not that reliable, or on news reports. The combination of the fear for her brother, along with the constant tension of not knowing, was something she said she never wanted to relive.
Another subject that was brought up was politics, mostly Mrs. Modeen’s opinion of the actions of the government during World War II and the present day government. She felt that even though the government in 1944 went to extreme measures to end the war, the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, it had to be done. “It was the lesser of two evils,” she said. I asked what she meant by that comment, she explained that it was better that the United States bomb the two cities, than have the world powers continue fighting the war, which she believed would have stretched on far longer than it originally did. I asked her what she thought of the administration during the Hurricane Katrina disaster compared to the administration under President Roosevelt and President Truman, she replied she believed the political parties present during her teenage years were much more competent than the present administration. “Political parties back then [in the 1940’s] could have a different opinion and argue about it, then go out that same night and have dinner together.” The point she was trying to make was that even though the politicians had their own opinions and ideas, the different parties had a common goal back then, and that was what was in the best interest for the people of the United States. Mrs. Modeen went on to explain that the current politicians now are too involved with their own political careers and party affiliation to have the people’s best interest at heart. She pointed out the disaster of hurricane Katrina for an example, she believed that the Louisiana community didn’t receive help right away because its governor at the time was of a different political party than the president. I had to agree with her that there did seem to be more political corruption now than there was fifty years ago, but when I asked Mrs. Modeen if she had lost all faith in the current government, she said she was somewhat content with it. Even though there was much corruption in her opinion, she believed there were still a few politicians out there that did not cater to lobbyist.
When we were done with the student interview I got up from old wingback and Mrs. Modeen pressed the remote again and her recliner began to tip forward so she could get up. She walked me to the door and I thanked her for her time, she smiled, said it was a pleasure and to call her if I had any more questions. I thoroughly enjoyed talking with my neighbor; it was interesting to find out Mrs. Modeen’s personal prospective on her life during that time. I find it fascinating how different generations all go through the same phases of aging, but we take such different routes along the way. In Mrs. Modeen’s generation, the majority were contributing to the war in anyway they could; the generation that would come soon after would be know for their passionate protests against the war in Vietnam. One comment that really stood out from the whole interview was Mrs. Modeen’s opinion when said she felt very proud of they way the U.S. government handle World War II. She admired the way the government worked hard to unify the country in a common goal and inspire patriotism in its people.
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