It Snowed! My Daughter, like so many others, was a little kid again for most of the morning.
In other parts of the country, this kind of snowfall is a non-event, but here: it's the kind of thing you get up early to see and celebrate, because it only happens about once a decade.
This was such a treat and people were cramming in slow-related activities as best they could.
Time and again, I heard of the "Holy Trinity" of rare snowfall: Snowball fights, snow angles and snowmen.
As snowfalls go, this one was almost perfect. Most of it fell overnight, limiting disruption and accidents on the roads, while allowing us to wake up to a winter wonderland. Flurries continued throughout the morning before giving way to the occasional break in the clouds.
By mid-day, temperatures were well above freezing, which meant that most of the fluffy blanket melted away. While schools were closed, roads were mostly passable.
So, this was a pleasant event for almost everyone.
Certainly, there are exceptions. The Best Dog Ever needed her nose for news to relentlessly search for the morning paper. She had to dig it out of the snow. She didn't appear to like it very much, but she accomplished her mission.
An invigorating snow day is good for the spirits every once in a while. There was excitement around town as people swapped their snow stories. 
There was no school today, even at the university level. Most young people didn't hang around the house. Friends gathered and turned the weather into an all-morning party. Maybe it won't be another ten years before something like this happens again. It's uplifting, just for a little while, to just go outside and play! Couldn't we all use a few more days like that?
Friday, February 12, 2010
Sneaux Day!
Monday, February 08, 2010
Dat Sky Was Friendly Today
(Somewhere up in the air) - A 767 filled with Saints fans the day after their beloved team won the Super Bowl is a happy place. The faithful were wearing their black and gold gear, sporting smiles as wide as Lake Pontchartrain and still carrying signs..JPG)
All corners of the state were represented. In addition to my seatmates from Monroe, I spoke to folks from Lafayette, Lake Charles, Shreveport, Hammond, Houma, Ruston and Pickering. Certainly the City of New Orleans filled its share of seats.
Saints cornerback Malcolm Jenkins was in first class, happily signing autographs. New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin was leading "Who Dat?" cheers in coach. It was a party in the sky!
Despite all this star power, God help me, for a few moments I became the center of attention.You see, I am still suffering the emotional scars of having my roll-aboard taken from me and lost by the airline on the trip to Miami. This time, I made sure to board as early as I was allowed and stashed my precious bag into one of the overhead bins. People came along after me and put their things in there,too. After everyone was seated, I noticed the flight attendant couldn't close the door to the compartment. My bag was the obstruction. She said, "We will need to check this. It won't fit." I said, "Hold on a minute. This is the bag I always travel with. Trust me. It fits." She said, "Give it a try. I'll give you a couple of minutes."
I started shoving the bag back into the bin, then a wheel would pop out or a handle would snag. After a couple of minutes of wriggling it around, I snapped the door shut and it latched! To my shock and amazement, the people around me on the plane broke into a round of applause. They're ready to celebrate anything, it seems.
I turned and saw smiling eyes staring at me. Literally everyone in my view was wearing some kind of Saints paraphernalia. So, as the clapping subsided, I just raised my arms and said, "Who Dat?" In unison, they shouted back, "Who Dat!"
Caught up in the moment, I responded "Who Dat say dat bag won't fit?"
I got my laugh and took my seat.
I had hoped to bury myself in my book for a quiet trip home, but it was not to be. I was surrounded by chatter about the game. People are living it over and over again, and who can blame them? It's like they have to ask themselves time and again if their lifelong dreams of a Super Bowl championship have really come true.
True Dat, Who Dat.
Sunday, February 07, 2010
True Believers Rewarded. Saints Win!
(Miami) – For all the Saints who on this earth do dwell, there is unbridled joy. Nothing this side of The Rapture itself could elicit such euphoria. The New Orleans Saints are Super Bowl champions.
The team, in existence since 1967, rewarded its long-suffering fans with redemption and reward. Grown men wept with joy following the Saints’ tremendous come-from-behind 31-17 victory over the Indianapolis Colts.
What a transcendent event for New Orleans. Less than five years ago, the city itself was left for dead following Hurricane Katrina’s devastating landfall and the resulting floods. Now, instead of rancid water clogging the city’s consciousness, there is the freshness of life anew. The Saints are champions and they are carrying a region on their shoulders.
Cornerback Tracy Porter, who sealed the victory with a 74-yard 4th quarter interception for a touchdown, was reduced to understatement, saying simply “Words can’t describe what this means for New Orleans. I am a Louisiana native, and this is real big.”
Louisiana football fans have kept the faith for more than forty years, wandering in an emotional wasteland, hoping for someone to lead them to this Promised Land.
Head Coach Sean Payton and quarterback Drew Brees were up to the challenge, never losing faith in their abilities or the determination of those who supported them along the way.
Since September, Saints’ faithful have discussed “destiny” in a way only true believers can. If any fan base ever deserved a championship, it’s this one. Louisiana, so often derided for corruption in politics and socioeconomic shortcomings, is the home of the best football team in America, the Super Bowl Champions.
Professions of faith are coming from unlikely sources, like Saints tight end Jeremy Shockey, who said he had been praying “all day and all night” for this outcome.
The true impact of all this will not be realized for some time, but Louisianans have to believe. The Saints, an enduring symbol of futility for more than four decades, have emerged from the muck of mediocrity. Louisiana can do more than persevere, it can excel. If the Saints can do it, anyone can. Yes, a football team can inspire greatness, particularly this one. So much of New Orleans’ identity has been tied to the Saints: The “Who Dat?” cheer emerged from the unique accent that makes so many Crescent City natives instantly identifiable. During those losing seasons, all those losing seasons, fans mockingly hid their identities by covering their heads with paper bags. A city that is famous for its ability to host a party while turning a blind eye to rampant debauchery, in the view of some, was appropriately represented by a perennial loser.
Now, deliverance is at hand. The Saints are redefined. The jubilation in the streets, businesses and homes all across the region is just beginning to resonate. Faith, belief, joy; Success, happiness, hope: all ideals modeled for us by saints throughout history. Finally, maybe the football team in New Orleans is appropriately named.
Now, resplendent in victory, the Saints rightfully claim a title, one that our state hasn’t earned until now: Champions.
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Photo credits: US Presswire/Jeff Hanisch,Getty Images/Jed Jacobsohn, Associated Press/ Chuck Burton and Mark J. Terrell, and of course, Darrell Rebouche:
The Super Bowl is Here
(Miami) - Game on.
The Saints won the toss. Ran three plays and punted. Drew Brees overthrew a wide open receiver. The Colts got a field goal with their first possession.
The Colts fans are in full voice as Peyton Manning leads the team to scores on its first two possessions. The touchdown resulted from the longest drive in Super Bowl history: 96 yards on eleven plays. 10-0 Indianapolis at the end of the first quarter.
The Saints kept the ball out of Manning's hands with a long, time-consuming drive. They were stopped at the goal line on fourth down, forced the Colts to punt and got another field goal on the last play of the half. 10-6 going to the locker rooms.
Halftime: The Who! 
I've now seen U2, Paul McCartney and The Who at Super Bowls. This is indescribable. I knew every word to every song.
Colts get the ball to start the second half...
No they don't! The Saints pulled off a successful on-side kick and marched down the field for their first-ever Super Bowl touchdown. The honor goes to running back Pierre Thomas.
Saints got the ball, the momentum and the lead, 13-10.
Of course this meant the Saints had to actually kick the ball to the Colts. Peyton Manning marched his team right down the field and answered with a touchdown, regaining the lead, 17-13. They scored right in front of the largest collection of their fans in the stadium. For the first time possibly ever, the people in blue are louder than those in black and gold...
The Saints responded with another field goal and the third quarter ended with the Colts leading, 17-16.
The Saints marched 51 yards in nine plays followed a missed Colts field goal attempt.
Drew Brees connected with Jeremy Shockey for a touchdown. A two-point conversion gives the Saints a seven-point fourth-quarter lead!
Then, Tracy Porter picked off a Peyton manning pass and was off to ther races! A 74-yard interception return for a touchdown gave New Orleans a 31-17 lead.
And the Colts would not score again. The Saints are the best team in pro football, The Super Bowl champions. This lights the fuse on a celebration that likely will be unlike anything football fans have seen. 
Who Dat Fraid O' Dem Automatic Weapons?
(Miami) - How crazy are these people? Ear-splitting "Who Dat?" chants are now filling the concourses. Security forces, replete with body armor and automatic weapons, were surrounded by Saints fans and bullied into submission. The people WOULD NOT LEAVE THEM ALONE until at least one of them responded with a "Who Dat?" of his own. The guy with the gun meekly muttered a "Who Dat?" and he was met with a raucous ovation. Then, the crowd moved on.
It's Carnival season, and a Black and Gold version of Mardi Gras is spreading across the place. People are simply taking leave of their senses. I ran into my boy Jay from Bossier City. This man is a highly-respected surgeon, but this week, he's simply a fan.
From his seat, he can stare right into the CBS Sports broadcast position. He's thrilled to be here.
Meantime, the teams are coming onto the field for pregame warm-ups and Colts fans are finding their voice. "Let's Go, Colts!" is their chant. Somehow, it's missing a a little character. 
Now, let me take these beads off and get ready for the Super Bowl.
Emotion Building On The Concourse
(Miami)-Saints fans are starting to pour into the stadium. I've seen a lot of football games, but rarely have I seen a collective consciousness like this. These people are ebullient. At the risk of overextending a Saints metaphor, it's like they've died and gone to Heaven. A communion of Saints, convinced at this moment that theirs is a team of destiny.
The quietly confident Colts fans are wandering around in Blue-clad packs, watching all this with wide-eyed wonder..JPG)
They are not calling attention to themselves at all. The Super Bowl experience is not new to them, whether their fandom is confined to the team's Indiana tenure or if it dates back to ancient Baltimore days.
In the two weeks since the Saints won the NFC championship, I have been envious of Saints fans' euphoria. I've been happy for them, but I just wasnt feeling it. .JPG)
Now, as kickoff approaches, I have to admit my skin is tingling. There's tremendous excitement in the concourses, and soon it will all funnel into a giant south Florida bowl known as Sun Life Stadium..JPG)
While wandering around the place, I ran into my friend Fletcher, known to loyal Daddy D readers as Frequent Traveling Companion. I hadn't seen his since, well...lunch. But it was good to see him, anyway.
The sign says a storm is coming. I can hear the thunder already.
The Streets are Crowded and So Is the Sky
(Miami) - We have arrived at the facility formerly known as Joe Robbie Stadium four and a half hours before kickoff. Fortunately, a big bus brought a gaggle of us here and dropped us off near the security checkpoint. Ah, Security. It is thorough. I have been patted down, wanded, inspected and eyeballed. This was to be expected and is the major reason we chose to arrive so early.
I would hate to be an air traffic controller in south Florida today. There are blimps and airplanes circling the stadium. There are also intimidating black military helicopters.
My perch is not near my TV friends, but I was on the bus with Roy Lang from the local newspaper and we had time for a pre-game buddy photo:
Naturally, the streets around the stadium are clogging quickly. People are starting to stream into the parking lots. For the first time, we saw more Colts fans than Saints fans, but I suspect that's temporary. Each team got an identical number of tickets, but it wold be a safe bet to believe Saints fans have been willing to pay a higher price on the secondary market to witness history being made.
Adrenaline is starting to build. Looking forward to watching this place fill up.
Saints Alive! It's Super Bowl Sunday!
(Ft. Lauderdale, FL) - You couldn't ask for a better day. Even if the events planned for later this afternoon didn't have the potential to be life-changing for people who love the New Orleans Saints, the morning would still be spectacular. Sunrise over the Atlantic, waves, sand, an ocean breeze: Sunday morning at its February finest. There is a pause in the party as fans begin to realize that the game is upon us. For the football teams, a championship hangs in the balance. For the people of New Orleans, there is a shot at redemption, recovery and deliverance. Having spent time in close quarters with them, I can assure you that is not an overstatement.
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My day started early, filling souvenir orders from family. The women back home had specific demands. I hope I didn't let them down.
Then, breakfast by the ocean again with Frequent Traveling Companion. 
Interestingly, we are not on this trip together. Our hotels are less than a half-mile apart, though, so it's easy to hang out.
This is my first visit to South Florida, and I can tell you it is not oversold. The photos, the stories, the scenery you hear about, it's all here. Now, if the game delivers that will put a nice ribbon around what has already been a tremendous weekend.
Saturday, February 06, 2010
Black and Gold Thunder
(Miami Beach) - Bourbon Street has come to South Beach. New Orleans Saints fans have taken over. On this, the night before their beloved team's first-ever Super Bowl, they joyfully squeezed Indianapolis Colts fans off of Ocean Drive with their sheer numbers and unbridled enthusiasm..JPG)
The Colts are favored to win the game, but they aren't in the same league with the party. There's enough rock and hip-hop to give Miami Beach a thunderous thump-thump on a regular Saturday night, but with Saints fans in charge you can add drums, horns and spontaneous parades....JPG)
When you think Bourbon Street, certain things come to mind. For instance, people elbow to elbow in the street, partying with purpose. Check:
You also think of massive alcohol consumption. Check.
Oh, and women wearing alarmingly little clothing. Um, check:.JPG)
.JPG)
Bourbon Street has been known to feature a little burlesque along the way. Check:.JPG)
I felt it was vital to document this rampant debauchery so that we may properly disapprove of it. Clearly, French Quarter sensibilities have stormed this beach with a blitzkrieg of Who Dat Juju.
What reminds us that we are not, in fact, in New Orleans is the beach itself. Having just one full day here before the Super Bowl, making my way to the sand and surf was a priority. It was late in the afternoon when I arrived with the traveling party and most of the beautiful people had moved inland to brace for the storm of Saints faithful..JPG)
This actually worked to our advantage because we were able to hang out for a while without getting in anyone's way or working up a sweat..JPG)
The parties will pause tomorrow because this particular Sunday is about the business of football. That's what worries me for Saints fans. The Colts and their followers have been businesslike in their approach to all this. Meantime, for the fleur-de-lis folks, it's all about the festivities. Having spent a couple of days embedded with them, I'm really pulling for their team to win. It would simply mean so much to them. If they do indeed become Super Bowl champs, in terms of a party, we ain't seen nothin' yet. Who Dat?.JPG)
A New Attitude, but Still No Luggage
(Ft. Lauderdale, FL) - How tired and frustrated was I when I arrived late last night? (Technically, early this morning). I met some friends somewhere down the highway for a beer and had no idea we were on the waterfront! To my amazement and bemusement, I learned this in a nice way when, after a few hours' sleep, I drove to that same spot looking for breakfast. Next door to the place where I oblivously decompressed hours earlier, I enjoyed a spectacular oceanside meal with this view.
I ate alone and was happy about that. I really like being in control of my own movements. My phone has been ringing, though, and there are some festivities planned with my buddies later in the day.
I took a moment to stroll along the beach, but since I still have no luggage I couldn't get my only clothes and shoes wet or sandy. That kind of limits the beach experience. That's okay, this is a football trip. The beach is just lagniappe.
I watched Saints fans stroll along the beach, basically thrilled to be here. Black and Gold-clad hordes have descended upon south Florida, most of them without tickets to the game. People are plotting party strategies, win or lose. It's remarkable to see.
Colts fans are sprinkled in among them, but they seem much more button-down and businesslike. They expect a Super Bowl championship and anything less will be a letdown. I even overheard one group talking about how they've been here all week, but they're flying back to Indianapolis to watch the game on television. Can you imagine a Saints fan doing that?
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On the way out the door this morning, I ran into the islandic angel who washed my clothes for me. She was very kind. I discovered I shall not see her again, because she be off work until after I am gone. She improved my life just a little, though. The scenerey seemed so much nicer with clean socks and underwear.
Not Exactly A Seamless Trip
(Ft. Lauderdale, FL) - I have met an angel disguised as an islandic overnight clerk at a hotel in south Florida. More on that in a moment.
The good news: I have arrived in suburban Miami for my Big Super Bowl Adventure. Getting here wasn't easy. Being here hasn't been a picnic so far.
I don't want to say my frustrations are all Delta Airlines' fault, but they're all Delta Airlines' fault. Knowing this was a weekender (although a remarkable one), I just brought a carry-on bag. (Or, as they call them these days, a "roll-aboard." For a year or so, I wondered why flight attendants were talking about "roller boards," but that's another story.) The plane I was on for the first leg of the trip was packed and the flight attendants determined their was no room for my roll-aboard, among many others. At least three people in Delta uniforms assured me that my bag had been checked all the way to Miami. When I got to Miami, my bag was not there. After standing in line for an hour at the baggage problem office, it was determined that my bag was in Atlanta.
What's in my bag? All of my clothes, my Garmin, my camera, my phone charger, my Kindle charger, you name it. It was my carry-on. It had everything in it.
So, in a strange city I can't navigate and I can't call anybody because my phone is dead. I'm also running several hours behind. (Not Delta's fault mostly, because of severe weather.) The fact that flights were delayed all over the southeast makes the lost bag even more inexcusable.
I found a phone charger at a gas station and found my way to the hotel, where I encountered the angelic, islandic all-night clerk. She heard my tale of woe: "All I have is the clothes on my back, and to be honest with you my feet stink. I can't wear these socks, or frankly this udnerwear, another day." I asked her if there is a Wal-Mart or a Target or something nearby so I can buy socks and underwear and maybe a pair of khakis. She said, islandicly "It is too far away. I will take care of this for you." She offered to launder my clothes for me. I kept my jeans, a tee shirt and my shoes. I turned over the objectionable items to her on faith.
At this writing, I don't have my clothes back yet. Hey, wait a minute! What if she's not an angel at all? What if she's a polo shirt thief?
Thank God I kept my pants.
Monday, February 01, 2010
Confessions of a Middle Aged Man
I will turn fifty years old this year, The Big Five-Oh. That means it’s a virtual certainty that I have made it more than halfway through my Earthly journey.
So, I have decided to commemorate this auspicious circumstance I will randomly confess some of my shortcomings. Let’s start here: I’m a packrat. There, Honey, I admit it.
I have neckties that are now 30 years old. I have shirts that are older: rugby shirts, Polo shirts, tee shirts, Hawaiian shirts, you name it. They’re in boxes in the attic, stuffed in drawers, stashed in closets in my old room at my father’s house. What do I plan to do with them? I have no clue. Somewhere down the line, maybe somebody will make a memory quilt with them or something.
Sure, they’re out of style and way too small. But, you never know when you might need a tee shirt emblazoned with a CBS promotional slogan for the 1980 TV season.
I also have memorabilia from my many years in the media: Super Bowl passes, laptop cases with various logos, V-Neck sweaters from media days for some kind of horse race, miniature souvenir baseball bats commemorating ballpark openings. The list goes on and on.
My wife is such a spectacular person; I can truly say I only remember being legitimately upset with her one time. Years ago, without asking, she threw out a bunch of old CD’s. What was she thinking? I need therapy for this.
Here’s the newest collection: commemorative footballs.
I have a Louisiana Tech football signed by former head coach Derek Dooley, a football from the 2009 Army-Navy game, and balls emblazoned with the logos of teams that have participated in any number of Independence Bowls. What am I supposed to do with those? I don’t have any kind of display case set up in my home or anything like that.
Know where they are? The bottom of my closet, right under a bunch of ball caps I never wear any more. Let’s see, there’s one from the hockey team, another from the baseball team, one from that golf tournament, one from a festival, Oh, look! Saints! A couple or three or four or more from TV stations...and way in the back corner, one from the USFL champion Baltimore Stars….
