Southern Hospitality

As a teacher and temporary guardian of my students, I take my job very seriously. I am always cognizant that we are tramping about in the lives of others. And ever vigilant to the effects on my students.

In December 2005, my concern was invading the privacy of people too traumatized to defend themselves.

On this trip, the concern was intruding on people angered by the damage to livelihood and the beauty of nature around the Gulf.

This trip is (so far) not life-threatening but a threat to the quality of life. I don’t believe we are to the point where we can yet say there are no lingering effects to health from our travels into the stricken areas in 2005.

Who knows when an alarm from this trip could sound?

Despite all those concerns, particularly for residents of the Gulf Coast, we were constantly met with cheerful optimism and graciousness for having made the effort to come see them.

Whether they agreed to an interview or not, people thanked us for coming to cover their stories.

Such unselfish expressions of gratitude never cease to fascinate me. Here are people facing some of the hardest times of their lives who can still appreciate the acts of others and practice the hospitality they are so well known for.

Thank You

To the residents of the gulf coast, thank you for taking the time to talk to these student journalists and all journalists who will follow. I know you value your privacy. I know you value the tranquility that the gulf has given you in the past.

I believe it was Raymond from New Orleans who asked us to ask these questions again in five years because then he might be able to answer them truthfully.

Dr. Lo and I did the majority of the driving, each car a few miles shy of 2000 miles.

I want to believe it was a learning experience, both in the bedrock of Journalism and Photojournalism, where all who participated will be stronger for it.

All I ask, as I turn my attention to my future students — both at San Antonio College and Texas State University — is that you, out there in Internet land, keep asking questions and demanding answers.

No one news source is right.

From a favorite TV show:  “Be open to the idea of pluralism.”

“When did the ethics and conscious of America die?”

“When did the ethics and conscious of America die?” That’s not my quote or question. I can’t even tell you who asked me that question because she, or maybe he, is afraid of losing their only job — a job with a state government — they have had longer then the effects of the spill.

Lives are changing on the gulf coast, and the actions of a few are going to have repercussions on us all.

We heard countless stories — some on the record, most off. I think my favorite was in Alabama, “It’s like BP is a little kid and we just opened the door and asked what they’re doing, and they shove it under the bed.”

“They are sinking that oil so you don’t see it, but it will come back … just when and for how long I don’t know.”

I am not trying to make light of the disaster, but BP has decided when it comes to answering questions, they only do that on their terms. If you don’t have a verification card get off their — or their contractor’s property. To get a card, you have to find the right person and be put on a waiting list.

This trip was eye opening, and I am sure as we download the rest of our images and write the stories you will enjoy reading them.

Baby Bubba

The Alligator House in Jennings, La., brought us up close and personal with Bubba, an 11-month-0ld alligator found in a local backyard at the tender age of one week.

Like all babies, Bubba’s skin is ever so soft. In his first year, he’s grown from about 6 1/2 inches to a little over a foot.

Connie, the alligator “wrasseler,” passed Bubba around so we could all hold him through a barrage of shutter openings and flashes.

Connie also cares for and feeds Rambo, 122-year-old turtle, and slligators Clotilda and Boudreaux.

Everyone ooohhhed and aaaahhhhed and reached out for their turn to hold Bubba except Julysa and Alison who begged off saying they didn’t care for reptiles.

Connie says that since Hurricane Katrina, this area has seen a lot more alligators, Sea water flooded the narch lands, alligators moved farther inland.

Where do they take it?

All I could think after witnessing the destruction of Hurricane Katrina and the levee breaches was where are they going to put all the debris?

For miles, the highways were lined in Texas, Louisiana and Mississippi with debris. In the cities and towns, each house and building was accompanied by a pile of debris.

The sheer volume was overwhelming.

Since the spill occurred I’ve been asking the same question about the oil.

Today I heard a couple of answers that we’ll keep looking into. Stay tuned because I don’t think you’ll like them anymore than I did.

Time Warp

Tuesday, it seemed this week would go on forever. Today, it seems like it flew.

At day’s end, morning seemed ages ago. How many times have I said “yesterday” only to be corrected with “that was this morning”?

Breakfast was in Pensacola, lunch in Alabama and coffee break in Mississippi. Sixty miles to an unscheduled stop in New Orleans.

Apparently, the beignets were a BIG hit so we are heading back down to Café Du Monde. Voodoo dolls and Mardi Gras masks also seem to be on the agenda.

It’s going to be a quick stop. We all need rest and we have an early start tomorrow for the final stretch home.

I am so proud of these students — they have worked so hard — and can’t wait to see the finished products.

They have been so excited by their discoveries in each state and triumphs in getting interviews and picking up on new stories.

But one goal repeatedly escaped them. They wanted to get out on the water.

They tried fishermen, contract cleaners, wildlife advocates and several said yes, but for one reason or another, each possibility ended in defeat.

So a quick look at a map presented a solution with several benefits.

We took the scenic route along the coastline out of Florida and into Alabama. A ferry crosses the bay from Fort Morgan to Dauphin Island, where everyone had been but me.

The students who misssed Gulf Shores and Perdido Key got to pass through.The route took us to Lulu’s at Homeport, owned by JimmyBuffett’s sister.

I was excited even if some of the kids didn’t recognize the name. Then I subjected the ones in “the flashy car” to about 50 miles of Jimmy on my iPod.

The ferry crosses 4.2 nautical miles and today the bay was covered with oil clean-up craft. It was an amazing site that I’m sure one of the students will show soon.

We’ve stopped a couple of times to let them pick up the souvenirs they have bypassed in their haste to report their stories.

Finally, the Louisiana state line!

Riley gets burned and some rock ‘n’ roll therapy

Alison Wadley/The Ranger

Alison Wadley/The Ranger

So Alison, Trish, Irene and I are driving in the “flashy” red car and passing through Mississippi right now on the way back to Louisiana… and after a while of listening to Jimmy Buffet we are listening the some rock ‘n’ roll I find a bit more familiar, the Rolling Stones. Sadly not everyone knew much about Buffet (myself included) but we still had fun at his sister’s restaurant, Lulu’s, which was very much the opposite of my beloved LuLu’s near SAC. But the crew was awesome and helped Riley in aiding his swollen fire-hot, sunburned feet. He forgot to apply sunscreen on his feet and walked barefoot along the beach on Dauphin Island. Poor thing, at one point we thought they were turning blue, which turned out to be the aloe vera mixing with some other lotion. We are monitoring the situation and hopefully he’ll be feeling 100 percent for school on Monday.

Anyway, today has been nice. We took the scenic route back toward New Orleans and got kicked out of a BP contracted company’s worksite because we didn’t have a BP access card. The security woman didn’t say much but it is interesting to say I’ve been kicked out of somewhere. Hey lady, we are just investigating and reporting on what’s going on over here. It’s just a bit odd how many people signed contracts saying they wouldn’t speak to anyone about what BP is doing on the Gulf Coast. We are still getting bits of the story albeit many won’t give us their name for fear of losing their jobs.

Oh and we ran into the director of the Mississippi-Alabama Sea Grant Consortium who clarified a lot about where the oil is being dispersed right now. He had just attended a meeting where many officials are trying to spread the word that seafood from the area tested safe for consumption. Anyway more info on what Dr. LaDon Swann says later!

Plans for future retirement

Traveling to states around the Gulf Coast has made me appreciate the little pieces of heaven found in the United States. When I think of vacationing (even though I’m reporting) I never imagined staying in the U.S. or southern states along the shore.

I could have never been so wrong. Even if these islands are dealing with a massive oil spill, unclean ocean water, and a possibility of loosing reaps of money from tourism; the island still remain its beauty.

A few locals Laura, Allison, Julysa and I ran into explaind the stickiness of the water and increase of tar balls making its way up shore. The reason the water was sticky, because the oil from the bottom continues to stay at the bottom and slowly comes up. Even with these problems barring over the prettiest beach I have ever seen I couldn’t help feeling at peace.

Its kind of odd I found a little bit of serenity in the most devastating oil spills this country has ever faced. The reason for this, because the beach has the ability to clear my mind and put me at ease. Yesterday at Dauphin Island, Alabama, I found it beautiful, but I fell more in love with Perdido Key, Florida. The water looked clear blue and the sand looked so white, but then again I was looking far away. When I got to the shoreline I stared right into the ocean and practically was hypnotized. I was trying to draw myself away from the water, so I wouldn’t end up falling and drowning in.

The variety of summer homes came in red, yellow, bright green, and pink constantly caught my eyes. It looked like houses made for pixy Disney movie. I though to myself I need to live or retire next to a beach and sit in my fancy cartoon home, while I stare impiously into the sea. I know a little too much, but who knows.

I’m going to share a photo I took while at Perdido Key. You can see for yourself how beautiful these beaches are. It’s sad to see such beautiful land being corrupted because of people’s pursuit for greed.

It’s a little funny I’m already planning for retirement and I barely started college.

Florida’s notebook fiasco

Zahra, Julysa, Trish, Irene and I started the morning in Pensacola, Florida’s Naval Aviation Museum which was so informative and amazing. Julysa aptly described the experience as a time warp. The free museum sends visitors back in time to before some were born and makes you feel like you are really there. For example, some of the exhibits looked so authentic they rivaled the USS Alabama battleship experience. We met two ladies who regularly volunteer at the USA 1943 exhibit who described what it was like to live in small towns during that time and showed us what daily life was like as we walked through a dime shop where people had to pay with food rations and money, through a typical living room with working radio playing a recording of war news updates and storefront windows honoring the town’s troops. Basically we received a history lesson like no other.

Also, the volunteers complimented our enterprising reporting skills and said they were thankful we visited the museum and are devoting ourselves to journalism in college. They were just really proud that we were trying to cover military stories and the oil spill incident and representing our college. It was cool getting a genuine compliment from women who’s husbands and families fought in the war and had experienced so much in life and they said they were impressed with the way we conducted ourselves.

It was so cool being able to climb into the cockpit of actual aircrafts in the museum and see what it would be like to sit inside one and imagine being drafted or signing up to protect our country flying jets, planes and helicopters.. and actually blimps, space shuttles and hot air balloons would be included. I learned a great deal and have so much respect for the men and women who serve in the military. Not that I didn’t already but this museum makes you think twice about sacrifices and environments/situations the country sends our troops to deal with.

But, anyway, the haunted lighthouse was the point of this blog! Basically I climbed 177 steps to the very top of the historical operational lighthouse in Pensacola, just like the other two students and two advisors in our group. I enjoyed conquering a fear of heights which was sort of challenged when I went up in a hot air balloon in East Texas on assignment. I loved the ghost stories and rustic interior of the tower and stopped to stand in the window ledges along my way to the top. I get up there enjoy the view and joke around a bit. At that point, I think I should be taking some notes just in case I forget some of the details and views from the top of the tower. I reach in my back pocket where I am positive I carried my reporter’s notebook the whole trip and … it’s gone!

Zahra and Julysa say I pushed them out of the way screaming “My notebook!” and bolted back down the steep stairway. I was seriously more worried about losing notes from stories I covered throughout the entire week. The potential loss of all those direct quotes, names and observations I made during interviews and knowing that I could never get all that information back was scarier than falling down a flight of stairs at full speed. My main thought was my advisers will kill me if I lose all this information. I could just hear them commenting on me having a vacation rather than a week of work. I checked every single window sill on the way down. Finally I made it to the bottom of the tower in time to run into Irene.

Great, my notebook is lost and I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off. I couldn’t believe my carelessness. I ran through the lighthouse living quarters through the blood-stained bedroom and even to the haunted cellar alone. These were desperate times! Finally I go outside to check the car and find my notebook is safe in the seat I had been sitting on the entire time. My legs are still aching right now and my lesson for the day is clear. Know where your stuff is at all times ESPECIALLY your notes! I just couldn’t imagine losing information from dozens of sources over this past week and trying to scramble to put together even one of the 8-10 stories on my plate.

Scary situation. Here’s to wishing this never happens again. I’m referring to the potential loss of notes and not the lighthouse and museum experience, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

Also another new food experience: I tried key lime pie tonight at the restaurant on the beach and loved it.

Guns and Cameras

Yesterday, we spotted a BP claims center in Mobile, Alabama. And like the curious journalists that we are, Laura and I volunteered (or maybe were volun-”told” by Tricia and Irene) to walk in and try to get information. Well, the planning provided by our advisors, out of context, could have easily sounded like we were planning a bank robbery. Irene said something along the lines of, “Just walk in shooting.” That way, if I walked in already taking photos, if they kicked us out (which they eventually did to me) we would already have a shot. Oh, but like Tricia said, do all this “nonchalant.” Easy, right? Right.

But, I’ll tell you what isn’t easy. Climbing up 177 narrow steps to get to the top of a lighthouse. Oh, and not to mention the lighthouse is haunted. The Pensacola Lighthouse in Florida, was literally the highest point of this trip. There’s so many activities to do along the gulf, that it’s sad they’re getting overlooked by the oil spill. Which, by the way, I have been eating plenty of seafood while here! Restaurants aren’t using the same fish from the affected oil spill, and most are getting them shipped from elsewhere. But either way, the food is fantastic, especially the service. I love the southern hospitality, I know I’ve already said that previously, but I guess Texas must really be lacking some.

Our plan for fishing fell through, but that’s life. We plan and plan, and then something else happens, and we have to move along as well. Even though I would have really liked to go out fishing with these shrimpers, it would have amazing. But who knows, maybe next time we’ll visit Tate and Junior, and maybe by then, times will be easier.

This one is short, and I’m tired from jumping across the two beds while Alison takes photos with multiple exposures and nearly blinds me with the flash. But that’s what happens when you room with two photographers, just ask Laura.

We’re hearing strange “bubble popping” noises that can’t be explained. I’m going to bed, goodnight.

The Pensacola Lighthouse in National Air Station Florida.

Irene and Laura climb up the 177 steps to reach the top of the lighthouse.

The people coming down from the top of the lighthouse have priority of the stairwell, leaving the people going up to hang on near the narrow part of the steps while the others pass by.

Almost all the steps are made of Iron, with the few wooden exceptions that replaced those broken steps.

At the top of the lighthouse, the house below was built to house the light keeper and his family.