Dear Smiley: I had a wonderful German shepherd mix named Alfie when I was in college, and he loved to ride in my VW Beetle.
Our recent discussion of hand signs for LSU football fans has yielded a number of ideas, including these two — one good and one bad.
Dan Stein, of Baton Rouge, offers this example of the way technology modifies our behavior:
I watched in disbelief as a quick whistle at the Saints-Rams game robbed Cameron Jordan of a touchdown on a fumble recovery.
A request for an LSU Tigers hand signal to use at games got a quick response:
As discussed earlier, much of Louisiana is flat, making activities needing hills a challenge. But we do our best finding high places:
Dear Smiley: What Texas did to the LSU band, team, and fans is sucky no doubt, but as the classy flagship university of our great state, a state known for its hospitality and kindness, shouldn’t we back off the "eye for an eye" mentality? We sound petty.
Joe Fairchild, of Thibodaux, says, "My wife, who is Canadian, asked me during the LSU-Texas game Saturday night about a universal LSU Tiger support hand recognition symbol.
I know, I said I was wrapping up VW Beetle stories. And I am. Trust me. Just not yet…
After I wrote about the hills of Natchez, Mississippi, being perfect for flying down on scooters, wagons, etc., Mike Boudreaux, of Bush, told how resourceful Louisiana kids dealt with their level terrain:
After a couple of stories about kids attempting to run away from home, here's one about an attempted parent exchange by disgruntled youths:
Robert "Yogi" Naquin, our correspondent from "down da bayou," says the start of the school year reminds him of his first grade days (no pre-K or kindergarten):
Dear Smiley: Speaking of VW campers:
Ernie Gremillion says, "The story about pinball machines reminds me of this:
After determining that all of you once owned a VW Beetle and have a story about it, we're winding down that topic. But there's still the VW bus to discuss, the ultimate hippie vehicle and the scene of … well, a lot of stuff.
The closing of Baton Rouge's Krispy Kreme store for renovations brought this memory:
Jill Keating says, "The story of the little girl who left home because she didn't like her dinner reminded my mama, Janet Damare, about the time her youngest son showed up at the neighbor's door, suitcase in hand.
“TW" (I wouldn't want my name on this story either) says this can either be a "youthful crime" story or a Volkswagen Beetle tale.
Dear Smiley: Long ago, as teenagers without iPads and Xboxes, we created our own games.
From my "Rural Problem Solving" file comes this tale:
I've always pictured my readers as sober, upstanding citizens, stalwart upholders of law and order.
Bertha Hinojosa teaches English to 6-to-10 year-olds at La Belle Aire Elementary in Baton Rouge.
I welcomed the arrival of football season by watching the preseason Florida-Miami game. (What? It was a REAL game? No way.)
When we mentioned the end of manufacturing the VW Beetle, we didn't realize that everyone in our circulation area had owned one:
Dear Smiley: I run in my subdivision and have done so for the 47 years we have lived here.
Tony Falterman, of Napoleonville, says, "My fondest memory of Kathleen Blanco was the night I met with her husband 'Coach' Raymond and a pollster who had run a poll prior to my election as district attorney.
Lillian Miller, this column's unpaid seasonal poet, expresses our longing for a change in seasons:
A VW Beetle story from Ann Johnston, of Gretna:
Ernie Gremillion, of Baton Rouge, says, "My mother made a donation to the church 'poor box' whenever she had something to be thankful for, and taught us to do the same. So I did that when my wife or I had good medical news.
Ron Sammonds' story brings memories of typing classes at Istrouma High and my early newspaper days:
Dear Smiley: The kids in Standard Heights wondered how Al Owens and I always had money in our pockets.
Joanne Cowgill tells this story of religious education:
Every August I publish my Fearless Football Forecast for LSU football — and fervently hope that readers forget it by the end of the season.
Ellen Mayeur McCubbin continues our Beetle series:
Dear Smiley: I have eaten in many of Baton Rouge's fine restaurants, but I had never had lunch at the Stockyard Cafe, located in Dominique's Livestock Market near the old Mississippi River bridge.
Dan Stein, of Baton Rouge, says when he volunteered to buy school supplies for 7-year-old grandson Cooper, he thought, "It’s just for second grade. How hard could that be?"
The contributor who submitted this asked that it be credited to "Name withheld by request" for some reason:
Mike Berry, of New Iberia, adds to our VW Beetle lore:
Margaret Hawkins, of Ponchatoula, says, "With political campaigns upon us and generic placards and boards all over the place, one Ponchatoula man with a rather cynical view of politics, and personal access to lighted signs, posted two memorable thoughts.
Buck Bertrand says the story about pro wrestling in the Thursday column jogged his memory:
Dear Smiley: When something funny happens to you and no one is around to appreciate that moment of fear or that wide-eyed fish look on your face, you have to tell someone … so you send the story to Smiley's column.
Working in the news business, you often have reason to run into lawyers.
Diane T. Martin, of Morgan City, says, "I had a dear cousin who grew up fishing the bayous, hunting alligators and working hard his whole life.
Our recent story about the novelty of a VW Beetle with air conditioning in Germany reminded John Murphy of this incident:
Ernie Gremillion, of Baton Rouge, tells a story that explains why he's not this column's apparel consultant:
Bill Haynie, of Slidell, tells this tale of injustice and the quest for revenge:
Dear Smiley: The other day I was visiting with my parents, Mae and T. Med Hogg, and we were talking about all of the sinister phone calls we get these days and our reactions to them.
The 50th anniversary of the moon landing reminds us that not all reactions to it were celebratory:
This tale, from David Guedry, of Prairieville, comes from our "Only in Louisiana" file:
Alma Mims, of Mandeville, says, "While disciplining my almost 4-year-old great-grandson, his 5-year-old sister asked, 'Why are you mean to my brother?'
Mary Pramuk, of Baton Rouge, says on the Thursday morning before the arrival of our latest storm, Barry, "I asked my husband how he’d slept and he said, 'Well, I was dreaming of two roaches having a conversation.'