Off the road again

By Ed Piper, Jr.

On our recent trip to Mississippi and Louisiana--which we thoroughly enjoyed--the foray further and further into the Deep South could be traced (catch the pun? the Natchez Trace, a traditional pathway) by some of the names of our servers at various humble establishments along the way.

There were the Sara's, the Kimberly's on our route. But also Andru'necia, which I find to be a delightful name, and Krishonda. Sometimes you have to look at your receipt to find out your server's real name. The latter was a waitress just off Andrew Jackson Square in the French Quarter in New Orleans. That was the southernmost terminus of our odyssey.

The last told me her name was something else--or her employee badge said a shortened version. But meanwhile, punctuated by her smiles and friendly manner, Dianna and I took in all the Venice Beach-like craziness of the square, with the many attendant homeless, a lot who already seemed pie-eyed before noon, the street performers, including a dancing Darth Vader, who my grandson would have loved, and painters vending their works.

My wife thought it was pretty stark how the palm readers and psychics offered their skills only feet away from the big Catholic church in the square, St. Luke's. And in this new world of plurality, they weren't shy about it--they faced the front of the cathedral, aimed right at the front door.

The cathedral, for us, was a welcome respite for a moment from the cacophony and crowdedness of the bustling square outside.

What was fun for us picture-takers was that, as we walked by dancing Darth Vader and took in the other activity atop the wall lining the water, a ship went by, perfect as a background for composing a photo.

We were in vacation mode and hail-fellow-well-met the whole trip. But we also found a wonderful friendliness and outgoing nature on the part of many of the folks we encountered in Mississippi and Louisiana. Neither one of us had visited in the Deep South before, and the experience--seeing my first swamp, inquiring what a bayou was, visiting Civil War battle sites and antebellum mansions in Vicksburg and Natchez and elsewhere--was a special treat.

I know, I know. We were there for a short time, and the friendliness was partly attributable to the vacation spirit, as well as good professionals working at the hotels and eateries we patronized. But the small-town feel of Vicksburg, whose better days are in the past, right off the bat, and the good-natured interaction we had with so many individuals, black and white, made us slot this vacation as one of the best.

I can honestly say I didn't do anything close to covering sports on the journey, this being a sports blog. I did watch NBA playoff games several nights when we got back to our hotels, with a sprinkling of Braves games.