Joanne Moulton, of New Orleans, says, "For the several days I was in the hospital with a new baby girl. My 2-year-old, Christy, had been told by her father and aunt that I would be back soon with a new baby sister for her.
As you may have read, the Superdome is losing the company owning its naming rights, and after July 2021 will no longer be called The Expensive German Car Superdome.
One of the most touching developments of our current crisis is the ingenuity people are showing in finding ways to honor loved ones, young and old, on their birthdays.
Glen Balentine, of Prairieville, says, "Your Wednesday mention of the stringer phoning in a story reminded me of my high school days as sports editor and football statistician. (I was paid $5 to phone in the score and stats to the newspaper from a…
By a striking coincidence, I received this comment from Dudley Lehew, of Marrero, on the same afternoon I was considering cleaning out the drawer on my nightstand. (I didn't, but I did consider it.)
Dick Hastings, of Abita Springs, says, "In 1954, when I was 13, my mother, baby brother and I went from our home in Port Gibson, Mississippi, to Eagle Harbor, Michigan, on the Lake Superior shore of the Upper Peninsula for summer vacation with my …
Redean Parsons says, "I live near five of my great-grandchildren under 8 years old. Being elderly, I’ve been grounded by my children for several weeks. The hardest part is missing all the hugs from my littles.
Mariano Hinojosa, of Baton Rouge, observes, "Quarantine has turned us into dogs. We roam the house all day looking for food. We are told 'No!' if we get too close to strangers. And we get really excited about car rides."
"Following the thread started recently about clubs," says Julaine Deare Schexnayder, "I am reminded of a story I researched about one that, while it required membership, was undoubtedly very popular in Jeanerette in the 1920s — and easy to join.
Mary Vernoy, of Metairie, says, "Buck Bertrand's tale of the girl’s mom advising her not to come within 10 feet of him (in the Wednesday column) reminded me of my eighth grade school dance (at a Baton Rouge Catholic school that shall remain nameless).