A Link

Just thought I'd share a link with my readers today. I really think that Dr. Moore hits the nail on the head with this article and I think that he's articulated what a number of evangelicals are thinking. God, give us a singleness of purpose!

Check out the article here.

Kids These Days!

As I begin today's brief post, I hope that you will take a moment and enjoy the video below:



This video was produced by four of my former students from FBC Wetumpka. Rodney Riggs, Jake Levins, David Windham, and Cody Arant are the young men teaching you some basic principles of Calculus. My observations on the video:

1) When did kids start getting projects like this? I think the most technologically advanced thing I ever did in school was make a poster.

2) I'm digging the wardrobe. Guys, I think it represents a definite improvement!

3) Pretty impressive parabola you've got there.

4) I don't remember learning a lot of those things in Cal I. Apparently 1999 was farther back than I thought.

5) I'm blessed by students that are gifted by God to do great things. I'm even more blessed because I know these young men and have seen God do great things through them.

That's all for today, but be sure to check in next time for my view from N. Wintzell!

Two More Days

"Men are clinging to football on a level we aren't even aware of. For centuries, we ruled everything, and now, in the last ten minutes, there are all these incursions by women. It's our Alamo."

We're only two days away. After an entire off season of waiting, it's finally time. Preseason camps are drawing to a close and it's game week for high schools across the state of Alabama. College games will start a week later, followed by the pros a week later. Last season was the greatest season of my life. My beloved Crimson Tide won the BCS National Championship and was led by Mark Ingram en route to the team's first win of the trophy that dare not be named. As an Alabama fan, this was outstanding, but was also to be expected. For better or for worse, it's in our DNA to expect excellence out of our team. (To my wife and others that are about to complain about my use of "our" to describe a football team: I help buy the merchandise and watch the games on tv that reap financial benefits for "our" team. I'm a part of the team, and look for my national championship ring to come in any day now. Also, if it weren't for my lucky shirt, we'd have never survived that Tennessee game.)

The greatness of last season was found in the unexpected: My Saints won the Super Bowl. If that statement doesn't take your breath away, you obviously either don't bleed black and gold, or you are a bandwagon jumper. I've been a Saints fan as long as I can remember. I was born during the Aints era and I've lived through an awful lot of ups and downs with this team. I fondly remember Pat Swilling and Ricky Jackson, Bobby Hebert and Dalton Hilliard, the Dome Patrol and the antics of Jim Mora. The rhythm of the first 25 years of my life was to go to church, make it home right after kickoff, watch the Saints build a nice lead in the first half, fall asleep at halftime, and wake up with just enough time to see my Saints blow the game in spectacular fashion.



Every year I get excited about the Saints, only to see my hopes dashed on the rocks of cruel reality. During last year's run, I promised myself that I wouldn't get emotionally involved in the outcome of their games. During the NFC Championship game, I had a youth event and was unable to do anything but check my Blackberry over and over again for score updates. I got in my truck just in time to hear Bobby Hebert tell the world, "The Saints are going to the Super Bowl!" All by myself, in my truck, in a church parking lot in Central Alabama, I went crazy. All hopes of maintaining my composure were lost. I managed to stay low key through the Super Bowl, going to church and coming home in time for the second half. My wife and kids went on to bed and I stayed up in eager anticipation of the final moments. Interception. Touchdown! Ballgame. I sat by myself in my living room and did what any respectable, reasonable grown man would have done in my situation. I cried like a baby. I witnessed something that I never thought I would see in my lifetime. My Saints won the Super Bowl. My family got in on the ground floor with the Saints, and 43 years later we saw it all come to fruition. All of those years of yelling at the tv, all of those naps ruined, even the remote control that I broke throwing it on the floor in the 8th grade-- all of that defeat was swallowed up in the greatest football victory I could imagine. I thought of Buddy D. I'm not sure what Buddy D. would have said about the Saints winning the Super Bowl. I know it would have come out as completely unintelligible gibberish and it would have been great.

Now here I am. I got to spend last Thursday on the sidelines at my alma mater, Alma Bryant High School with the team. I help out as a team chaplain along with my friend Chris Taylor. I'm obviously way past my prime. I find that I relate more easily to the coaches than the players, since we're the same age. When I last walked off of a high school football field as a player in November 1998, the class of 2011 was in Kindergarten. I still love it. I love being out there, celebrating the good and lamenting the bad. I love listening to the band and watching the crowd. I love watching these guys come together and build a bond that is greater than they can imagine. The practice games are gone. Saturday morning will arrive before you know it and half of the state will be 1-0 while the other half is 0-1, but between here and there, we've got a football game to play. I'm counting down, are you?

Hungry?

Hunger is one of the least pleasant experiences we can have as humans, isn't it? Over the past two weeks, I've started an effort to lose a few of these unsightly pounds (and I carry a number of them). The problem is that I hate to be hungry and I love to enjoy food. It consumes my thoughts, blurs my vision, and drives me to extraordinary measures to pursue it. Food can only be truly appreciated by those who are hungry for it. As I drove into town today, I faced a minor pang of hunger. Even through this light distraction, all of my thoughts turned to my hunger. Each restaurant I passed called to me with the promise of some delicacy that would sate my desire for lunch. This hunger controlled everything that I did. Until I took the opportunity to eat lunch, my focus was on nothing but my desire food.

Similarly, in the past 24 hours I've found myself filled with deep spiritual dissatisfaction. I'm hungry to see God grow me more into the man that He is making me to be. I want to see Him working in the hearts and lives of our church so that He would be glorified in our midst and that we would take action to spread His fame to the world beyond our walls. Last night and today, I've prayed for God to give us a vision for how He would use us as a part of the church's mission on Earth.

Today, I was reminded of the words of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount:

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
Matthew 5:6

May we all hunger and thirst for the righteousness of Christ in our selves, our families, and our churches. May we see that hunger filled. Would you join me in praying?

Back to School

It's that time of year again, as students mark the beginning of a new school year. At my house, it's a little different, as we are all affected by the return to class. As most of you know, my wife Suzanne is a teacher, so the return to school means that she has to go back to the grind of the daily school routine. Maggie has made the big leap forward and is joining Suzanne as a Dixon Dolphin in the 4K program. So far, so good on that count. She seems to be settling in well and is enjoying her new class, teacher, and friends. Joseph moved into 3K this week and he appears to be enjoying learning about his ABC's and 123's.

Even I'm affected by the return to school. Last Spring I started the journey back to school after 4 years out. I'm a doctoral student at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary. I'm currently preparing for my Fall trimester seminar, and I look forward to what it holds. In the meantime, I've got a lot to do to get ready. So, for both of my readers, don't be surprised if posting is a bit lighter over the next month or so. Check in regularly, though, because I do plan on posting!

Nerds!!!

Just a little eye-candy for the readers...


Greetings from N. Wintzell! Sorry I missed posting yesterday. As I cruised Facebook earlier in the week, I came across an article that really caught my attention. One of the young ladies at our church posted a note describing the cutthroat world of academic competition. It was a thoroughly enjoyable read, and I think it captured the essence of what will be taking place over the next few months in high schools across the country over the next few months.

The article resonated with me because it was something I could readily relate to. Once upon a time, I was an academic gladiator. Stepping from the gridiron to those hallowed halls of academia at Faulkner State Community College in Bay Minette was something akin to taking a trip down the rabbit hole. On the football field, it was easy to spot danger. When you were faced with a hulking behemoth that appeared fully capable of tearing you limb from limb, he probably could, and you could prepare yourself accordingly. During my first Spring practice at Grand Bay, I was thrown as a lamb amongst wolves into a varsity football practice as a 7th grader. My devotional life grew by leaps and bounds as I stared death in the face multiple times a day.

Scholar's Bowl and HiQ offer a different set of obstacles. Danger was not as easy to spot in academic circles. That weird-looking kid with 1,267 buttons of bands that you've never heard of on his book bag? Silent academic assassin. The girl carrying on a conversation with her stuffed animal? Shakespeare expert. The beautiful blonde? A plant to distract you from the moderator. It's a virtual minefield designed to prevent you from achieving glory for you and your school.

I was never that crazy about HiQ, but Scholar's Bowl was my first love. There's only been one thing in my life that I was truly exceptional at, and it was Scholar's Bowl. I may not look like much, but put a buzzer in my hand and watch out! I got an early start. PACE students in Mobile County got to participate in a special, once-a-year Scholar's Bowl at Mobile College (University of Mobile). As we prepared for our first competition, another mother cautioned my Mom, "Now, he's probably going to be timid at first. Don't be surprised if he doesn't answer any questions, or if he doesn't even press his buzzer. Most kids are pretty scared their first time at Scholar's Bowl, but be patient with him, and he'll get better as he goes along."

There are a few moments in life where things just click. When I held the buzzer for the first time that day, it just felt right. I went crazy. I had no fear of the buzzer, or of the competition. It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship that would endure for nine more years. In the 7th grade, I started attending Grand Bay. By a quirk of scheduling, I ended up in the only 7th grade science class taught by the high school Biology teacher, Linda France. As fate would have it, she was the sponsor for the high school's Scholar's Bowl team. We talked one day, and she invited me to stay after school one day for practice. It was a serendipitous moment.

I made the team that year and got to hang out with the varsity Scholar's Bowl team (how nerdy does that sound?) I got to play pretty regularly, and answered a decent number of questions. 8th grade rolled around and brought me a spot as the Captain of the JV team. I was the leading scorer and team MVP. 9th grade saw a promotion back to the Varsity team and a spot on the County All-Star team. 10th grade held our first County championship and recognition as the second-highest scorer in the league. My last two years saw less team success, but greater individual honors as I led the County in scoring both years.

For a kid that nothing came very naturally to, this was a revelation. Football required hours and hours of training my mind and body for Friday Night combat. On the football field, I was an offensive linemen. Offensive linemen tend to be a rather unassuming bunch. They tend to be relatively large young men who toil in anonymity while their teammates gain glory. Even defensive linemen get the opportunity to have a moment in the sun when they make a tackle. There is no such glory for the offensive linemen. When these guys are doing their job the best, you never notice they are there. You only see them when they screw up. Offensive linemen gain attention by missing blocks, holding, or jumping offsides (great moments all). When I went to those Scholar's Bowl competitions, I got to be something of a celebrity, and it felt good.

With that backdrop, you can imagine my interest as I read the aforementioned post. I'm now a washed-up old has-been, but I still think back occasionally to those halcyon days of my youth and smile as I remember the fun that I had competing. My favorite part of the article was the comments section that followed. I got to witness actual academic trash-talk. We didn't have Facebook to do this with back in ye olden days, but I don't know if it would have happened even if it did. While I loved Scholar's Bowl, I worked to identify myself as a football player. I'm not quite sure why (other than the obvious nerd connotations) but Scholar's Bowl was as important to me as any football game.

Academic athletes, enjoy yourself this year. I love you and understand you, because I was one of you. The best part about going to an academic competition is the level of weirdness that you can encounter each and every go-around. You'll find kids at every Scholar's bowl match who are completely comfortable with expressing themselves by whatever means necessary. You never have to worry, "Is my personal interest too strange or nerdy to be expressed here?" So students, when you're up to your elbows in current events articles, short stories, or lists of dates and places, don't stress out. Remember that you are a part of a special fraternity of men and women who seek the knowledge of the obscure. Have a blast, enjoy hanging out with your team, don't get too frustrated if things don't go well, and know that you too may one day be writing a semi-coherent blog about your glory days as a member of the Scholar's Bowl team.

The Bayou Top 10: #7

Grocery stores in the Bayou have a long and storied tradition. I'm not certain that the entirety of the Internet has the space to contain the stories that could be shared about good times had at all of the grocery stores that have gone on before in our town. As a small child, a trip to the grocery store in the Bayou provided two options: Schambeau's and Greer's. Schambeau's was a longtime Bayou La Batre institution that has closed, sadly, after the death of its longtime proprietor Mr. Crum Schambeau. Volumes could be written about the original "one-stop shop" where you could find groceries, comic books, shrimp boots, and shotgun shells all in the same place (assuming you needed all of those things on the same trip). For more information on Schambeau's, check out this link.

Today, all we have left is Greer's Food Tiger. Greer's has a special place in my heart for a number of reasons.

1) First and foremost, I was an employee at the Grand Bay location for a few months as a high school student.

2) Greer's is not for the pretentious. If you live in Bayou La Batre, you never have to ask yourself if you are under dressed for a trip to the grocery store. After my kayaking adventure (see here) my wife had left a message asking me to go pick up a few things from the grocery store. I examined my situation: I was wearing gym shorts, a ratty t-shirt, a Milwaukee Brewers baseball cap, Crocs (yes, a grown man in Crocs, no shame at all!, and a healthy dose of Bayou water. I was worried for a second, and then realized, "Wait a second, I'm going to Greer's!"

3) No shoes, no problem. Greer's is where the term "grocery store feet" originated. More bare feet have walked across the floor at Greer's than any other grocery store in the world, most likely. During my sojourn in Central Alabama, I learned that amongst a certain subset of the culture, it was considered high-style for a family to send their children to church and/or school without shoes. The children would come to church in their fancy, dress-up clothes, barefooted. People of the Bayou, apparently we were far ahead of the curve.

4) You never know what you might find to eat at Greer's. Here are a few pictures that I took on a recent trip to Greer's. I'll try to let the pictures do the talking:


Chicken feet: They're what's for dinner!



Pigsnout: The other, other white meat.

5) The folks at Greer's are willing to go above and beyond to serve those of us who are in less cosmopolitan areas. Did you know that there are 16 Greer's stores in Alabama? They include a number of exotic locales: Coffeville, Eight Mile, Grove Hill, McIntosh, Millry, Robertsdale, Semmes, and Theodore.

6) For those of you who are less culturally fortunate, check out the following pictures:






That's right, Greer's has an entire section dedicated to crab boil, Cajun seasonings, and fish fry. As you eat your bland, boneless, skinless, baked chicken breast tonight, we'll think about you.

So, there you have it. I like Greer's. Earlier this week, my wife sent me to pick up some sugar for tea. There was no question where I'd go. I grabbed my little barefooted boy and we hopped in the truck for a quick trip to Greer's. I saw some familiar faces and my boy and I had a good time on our field trip. For more information on Greer's, check them out here:

My View from N. Wintzell 8/11/10

Money. It's a topic that we all think about much more than we'd care to admit. This Friday night, we're going to be hosting a financial workshop presented by the Baldwin County Extension Agency at the church at 6:00 pm. This workshop will cover a number of issues, including dealing with creditors, avoiding bankruptcy, developing a budget, and handling stress during financial crisis. I think that this will be an excellent workshop, and if you or someone you know could benefit from it, pass this information along and invite them to attend. This is a free event, and you can register by calling (251) 338-1565.

My View from N. Wintzell 8/9/10

Sorry it's taken me so long to post, but it's been a busy few days here on N. Wintzell. As I sit in my living room, I've been reflecting on the events of the past few days in the life of the church. Church life is a blessing, and this weekend's events served as a reminder for me.

This past Saturday, FBC held its first work day during my tenure. If you've never had the opportunity to participate in a church work day, I highly recommend it. Church work days usually include lots of coffee and breaks, and occasionally work gets accomplished. As I walked out of the pastorium Saturday morning, I was surprised to see one couple already hard at work trimming trees and bushes before the day's work was scheduled to begin. Over the next half-hour people started arriving and they came ready to work.

As a pastor, let me take a second to brag. When it was all said and done, we had 30 people show up for work day, and each one contributed to a productive day. I won't take the time to mention every task that was completed, but suffice it to say that our folks did an excellent job, and I'm proud to serve alongside them as their pastor. On Sunday nights we've been studying the book of Nehemiah, and as we labored Saturday morning, I was reminded of a passage we looked at the week before:


"So we built the wall. And all the wall was joined together to half its height, for the people had a mind to work."
Nehemiah 4:6

It amazes me what God can accomplish through His people when they offer service with a generous spirit and a willing heart! I've spent a lot of time participating in church work days, and they've helped me to understand the importance of commitment. Commitment to service, commitment to others, commitment to the Lord; they all work together to build both the physical community and the spiritual community.


We celebrated a homegoing today at our church. One of our ladies was laid to rest after her passing a few days ago. Today, we remembered her life and ministry in the church. This lady will always be one of those folks who will serve to remind me of the beauty of committed service in the church. She taught Sunday School. She taught three year-olds. She did it for over 50 years. I've been in ministry long enough to have learned a few things: 1) Very few people do anything for 50 years. 2) Very few people survive one year of teaching three year-olds. 3) Many people get discouraged teaching Sunday School. Considering those three things that I know, this accomplishment continues to grow.

She was my three year-old Sunday School teacher, during the 1984-1985 church year. I don't remember a whole lot from her class (give me a break, I was probably barely potty-trained). I do remember taking up an offering every week. She kept spare change handy in case any of us didn't have anything to give. We had a real lesson every week. She never treated her three year-olds like we were there to be babysat. She prepared for that class like she was going to teach a doctoral seminar. I've always said that we should put our best teachers with our youngest children. She lived it out. I heard stories this week from her co-teacher about the hours that they spent preparing for the class, getting our papers ready and making plans for the next week's lesson. I learned some important lessons in that class:

1) There's a God in heaven and He created everything.

2) He has a son named Jesus.

3) He loves the little children (Red, yellow, black, white, etc.)

4) So do Sunday School teachers.

5) They prove this with many hugs and infinite patience for the questions that three year-olds ask.

6) People in the Bible wore funny clothes. When you got a little older, you could demonstrate this during the Christmas play by wearing a collection of sheets and bathrobes to make you look like a shepherd.

7) The nectar and ambrosia of preschool life is the weekly snack of butter cookies and red Kool-aid

8) The aforementioned cookies should be worn on the fingers before consumption. They taste better that way.

9) The Kool-aid was red flavored. I mean that. I don't think anybody knew if it was cherry or strawberry or pigsnout. It was just red. It was still divine.


In retrospect, those were some pretty important things to get a handle on as a three year-old. I'm glad somebody cared enough to share them with me. I watch people fall in and out of church life. I see people that I know love God who have believed a consumerist lie: I will find my place when I find a church that meets my needs (wants). If I can just find a church that meets my needs (wants), I'll be happy and settle in. I'd like to serve, but I just need to focus on my spiritual needs (wants). If you're out there reading this blog and are now offended, sorry (not really). You'll never find a church that will meet your needs (wants) until you commit yourself to one and find a way to exercise the gifts and talents that God's given you. I've been blessed by so many folks that have done just that, and I hope that I'll offer up the same committed service. Until then, I think I'll go find some butter cookies and Kool-aid.

That's my view, anyway, from here on N. Wintzell.

The Bayou Top 10: #8

Beware of Pelicans!

It seems that I left one bridge behind to return to an old familiar friend. During my time in Wetumpka, I had the opportunity to drive across one of the more beautiful historic bridges in our state on a daily basis. The Bibb Graves bridge was completed in 1931 and is the only reinforced concrete arch bridge south of the Mason-Dixon line. It spans the Coosa River right in the middle of town and the city has grabbed onto the bridge as a symbol of the community. From my office there on W. Bridge St. I was just a few hundred feet from the bridge. When I opened our church newsletter (The Bridge Builder) I often saw a picture of the bridge across the top. When I attended a Sunday morning small group (Bridge Group) I was reminded of the presence of the bridge.

I'm familiar with bridges, and the first one to capture my imagination was the Wintzell bridge on Hwy. 188 in Bayou La Batre. I remember it in its original color scheme. I remember the paint change and thinking that there wasn't enough money in the world to get me on the top of that thing to sandblast and paint. I think of trips under the bridge via boat and checking out all of the wildlife from underneath the bridge. If you've driven through the Bayou very often, you've probably had the experience of waiting for the bridge to raise and lower. When I was a kid, watching the platform rise and fall made for a great day. When I became a driver, it led me to the alternative route around Hemley and Davenport.

My favorite bridge memory involved a trip across it in my Mom's freshly washed 1987 Hyundai Excel. If you've spent much time around the water in the Bayou, you're probably familiar with our pelicans. Pelicans are large birds that like to hang out around the bridge or any other site near the waterfront. They also have the accuracy of a B-17, for on that fateful day, minding our own business driving across the bridge, the Landry family faced a pelican bombing raid. Pelicans bomb using the same wet white material that other seabirds use, there's just a lot more of it. A seagull or other bird will leave a spot on your windshield. This particular pelican launched a volley of refuse that managed to cover the entirety of the windshield. To my seven year-old mind it was the most amazing thing I had ever seen.

I've never forgotten that day. I drive across the bridge regularly, and often think of that old pelican. Maybe one day my kids will get to experience the thrill of pelican guerrilla warfare. I smile fondly when I cross my city's bridge (unless of course I'm caught up in bridge traffic) and know that whenever I see it, I've made it home.

It's Football Time in Alabama

It's football time in Alabama! August is here, and that means that all across our great state young men are preparing for one of the Deep South's great rites of passage. From small towns to downtowns communities are gearing up for the start of a new football season. To say that things are starting now is a bit misleading, though. For months now, these young men have been hard at work in the weight room, running drills, and participating in camps in preparation for this season. Yesterday marked the beginning of fall practice, as teams had the opportunity to have their first official practice of the year.

If you've never experienced high school football in a small town in a football-crazed state, you've missed out. There's nothing quite like going to a game on Friday night. I'd like to think that Friday nights are our greatest display of pageantry. When I think about the atmosphere under those Friday night lights, I can feel the goosebumps rising. In a few weeks, all of the hard work will come together and the band will fire up the fight song, the majorettes and flag corps will twirl away, and a cute cheerleader will cut some poor boy's heart out with her smile. The flag will be raised, the anthem played, and we'll salute that flag and pray for our young men and women, many of whom were on this same field just a year or two before, who have left the comforts of home and are fighting in an alien land.

This drama is played out week after week, year after year, in cities and towns across the nation. We'll win. Or lose. Old men and mamas will stand around and talk. Mamas will believe that the game would have turned out differently if that idiot coach would have just played her boy more. The old men will blame it on the toughness of the kids.

Old Man 1: I'll tell you, kids these days. No guts.
Old Man 2: If these kids were tough like we were when we played...
Old Man 1: I hear they get water breaks! When I played ball we didn't believe in water breaks. Water makes you weak.
Old Man 2: Kids got no pride. Even if somebody woulda offered us a water break, I wouldn'ta took it. Too tough.
Old Man 1: All this fancy equipment and buildings! I tell ya, back in our day...

You know the rest. Rehash injuries, share memories, rinse, and repeat.

Win or lose, we'll be back the next Friday night. We'll thrill with their victories and we'll suffer through their defeats. Kids will find somewhere to hang out after the game and celebrate/commiserate. Moms and Dads will sit in the stands and marvel at how quickly their sons and daughters have grown into young men and young women. Those veterans of playing days long past will grow misty-eyed as they remember their own days as heroes of the fall.

Most of all, we will look out with pride as "our boys" take on theirs. They may not be our biological children, but that doesn't make them any less ours. I believe that Friday night football may do more to break down all of the barriers that divide us in a small town than anything else. That kid on the field, in the stands, or on the sideline is no longer that kid. They're ours. They are the pride of our town and we're going to support them every step of the way.

Until we get to all of that glory, there's a price to be paid. As I type, students in all of the disciplines that will be displayed are gearing up for the practices that are required to reap the harvest of victory come September. Young men and young women, know that you carry our love for you, our community pride, our hopes for the future, and our memories of the past with you as you go.

That's my view, anyway, from here on N. Wintzell

Happy Birthday to Me!

It was an exciting weekend for us, as we celebrated my birthday Friday by vacating our N. Wintzell address for a trip to the Big Easy. Here are a few observations from our weekend:

1) Social networking has made wishing people a happy birthday easier than ever before. I counted 118 birthday greetings on my Facebook wall. I didn't even know that many people knew me, much less would take the time to wish me a happy birthday. Birthdays in the Facebook era make you feel like a rock star. Thanks to all of you for helping me enjoy the day.

2) I'm 29 now, so I guess I need to enjoy the last year of my 20's. The past 9 years have been pretty eventful. I've finished two degrees and started on a third. I met and married my wife. We've had two children and are expecting our third in December. I've gotten the opportunity to serve at four churches that have each taught me some important lessons about serving God and loving people. To borrow a phrase from one of my favorite authors, Garrison Keillor, "Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle, and quick to anger". Sorry, wrong quote. Let's try this again: "Thank you God, for this good life, and forgive us if we do not love it enough".

3) When you head south of New Orleans and cross the river towards Vacherie, home of Oak Alley Plantation you will encounter more sugar cane than you knew existed in the entire world. It never ceases to amaze me how a place can be so close geographically but feel so different when you get there.

4) Oak Alley was amazing. If you ever get the chance, definitely check it out.

5) New Orleans, LA is the hottest place on the entire planet. I can't imagine the surface of the sun being any hotter than New Orleans was this weekend. On Saturday, they put the mules up because it was too hot for them to pull their buggies. Did this heat prevent any of the tourists from swarming the Quarter or Aquarium? Of course not.

6) I don't get Cafe DuMonde. I know that a lot of you are going to consider this heresy, but I don't really care for beignets all that much. I especially don't care to stand in a line wrapping around the building in 98-degree heat for an hour to have beignets and cafe au lait. There are a number of places in the immediate vicinity with perfectly serviceable beignets and coffee with no wait at all. Even better, you could pick up a box of Krispy Kremes somewhere. This is the part where some of you start to moan about the experience.

You: Clint, you just don't understand. Going to Cafe Du Monde and eating beignets is an important part of the experience. You can't just eat any beignets, you need to go to Cafe Du Monde for the ambiance and atmosphere.
Me: Which part of the atmosphere, the smell or the sweltering heat? Or better yet, the part where you spend the rest of the day coated in powdered sugar from attempting to eat a "doughnut" which is no doughnut at all. Give me my Krispy Kremes!

(That having been said, I like my trip to Cafe Du Monde to come during the late night hours)

7) We avoided the Cafe and had one of the best breakfasts I've ever had in New Orleans. If you are in town and want to skip the beignets, I'd highly recommend the Cafe Fleur de Lis. I had the Cajun Country Omelette, and it came with the best hash browns I've ever eaten.

8) Friday night we hit up an old favorite, the Gumbo Shop. Seafood gumbo, jambalaya, and bread pudding all combined to leave me waddling back to the hotel.

9) After our hearty meal Friday night, we slept in and had the aforementioned breakfast. At this point, I was 12,000 calories in on the trip and starting to feel contemplative. Maybe this lifestyle is part of the reason that the Gulf Coast states consistently rate so highly on the lists of the most obese states in our nation. We can't be blamed for having superior cooks. Last October, Suzanne and I traveled to New England to view the leaves changing, and we really had a great trip. One night, we went out to eat in Burlington, Vermont. We had a blast, but I felt a bit awkward, as the city was full of a lot of active looking healthy people. On the night of October 7th, 2009 I was the fattest man in Burlington. I soon discovered why, as we sought a place to dine. We ended up at a highly recommended local cafe, and the food was pretty good. That was the case with almost all of the food we encountered on our trip. It was all pretty good. There was nothing we ate that was bad, but there was nothing that was life-changing either. Life changing? My friends, the bread pudding I ate Friday night was life-changing. I've longed for more bread pudding for the last three days. Must. Have. Bread. Pudding. So what if I'm fat? I blame it on the superior ability of my people to prepare and cook food.

10) The Quarter ain't the Quarter anymore. In the years following Katrina, I've been amazed by the lack of the Quarter's distinctive smell. We'll chalk that up as one minor positive that came out of an incredible tragedy. We did discover one source of the smell on this trip, as our mule took a potty break and deposited 9 1/2 gallons of it's fluid content onto St. Philip St.

11) What a great place. I love New Orleans and all of the unique experiences it brings with it. Living just down the road and having spent three years there in seminary, I feel like I know it pretty well. I can't imagine getting dropped off there with no warning from some other place in middle-America.


Goodbye, New Orleans. I'll be back before too long.

That's my view, anyway, from here on N. Wintzell.