My Istrouma High classmate Walter Imahara's new book reminds us of a shameful episode in America's World War II history.
Dear Smiley: Reading about not being able to lick your fingers because of COVID and having to wear a mask reminded me of something that happened the other day.
Janice DeJean, of Baton Rouge, says, "I read a newspaper article about a dog named Cleo, who made a 50-mile trek from her family's new home in Kansas to her old home in Missouri.
Boo LeBlanc, who proudly describes himself as a Donaldsonville native, says, "There has been a mention in your column lately about Kelly Falcon and his snake activities of years ago.
We've received several tales of people using just initials instead of first names, or having an unusual first name. Often they show how these quirks run up against the military way of doing things:
"Thinking of alligator stories," says Bill Bankhead, of Baton Rouge, "reminded me of 1958 or ’59, when I was on the LSU track team and we competed in the Florida Relays in Gainesville, Florida.
Harvey Best, of Rosedale, says, "I have enjoyed the stories about the wonderful food and places to eat in south Louisiana, but I have a story a little closer to home.
Tony Falterman, of Napoleonville, says, "The entry in your column about turning out the lights reminded me of my predecessor and good friend, Sheriff Murray Landry of Assumption Parish.
The New Orleans Saints have been playing good football, but Bill Huey says health concerns may necessitate reviving a tradition from the days of woeful performances:
Dear Smiley: Years ago, a postdoctoral researcher from Sweden started work at the LSU Chemistry Department. She was VERY concerned about tornadoes, which they don’t have in Sweden. She asked the usual questions and got the usual answers:
This account by Richard Fossey, of Baton Rouge, brings back memories of another eventful trip to a garbage dump, in Arlo Guthrie's classic story/song "Alice's Restaurant:"
This happened way back when my current spouse, Lady Katherine, was just Spanish Town Neighbor Katherine. She reminded me of it the other day, so I feel the need to once more defend myself.
Dear Smiley: When I was 11 years old, my family moved from Chalmette to Pleasant Hill, California, a suburb of Oakland located on the “dry” side of the coastal mountains separating it from the cold and foggy San Francisco Bay.