It's All Coming Together: A Week With the Rogues in the Big Easy

My apologies. It's been quite a while since I've left you (my faithful readers) high and dry for such a long time. In my defense, I was researching the next phase of my life, not just goofing off. I'll tell you all about how that went, but first let's take a trip down memory lane.

About eighteen years ago, Lil' Rogue developed a dream. There was a city, far away, where the bright lights and busy streets were simply too exciting for Lil' Rogue to miss out on. He got to visit the city, to smell its...particular odor, to partake in its most famous tradition, even to sample some of the local cuisine (which for those of you that know the Rogue, is quite surprising). The city was New Orleans, and Rogue was in love. A lot of things came and went on the list of Rogue's dreams in the next 18 years. But the city was always there in the back of his mind.

Last week, I took the first step in fulfilling that dream. This June, Mr. and Mrs. Rogue are heading to the Big Easy. We've found jobs, we've started searching for houses, we've learned our way around (sort of) and most of all, I've fallen even more in love than I was before. The week ended up much different than we had planned (we were supposed to spend some time looking for work in Baton Rouge) but it seemed to take on a life of its own. And standing on the other side, I think that was a good thing.

First and foremost I have to say thank you to a few people who made last week a spectacular success: Boyd and Tara, my brother and sister-in-law, who hosted an awesome Crawfish boil and let Ella and I discover the advantages of being close enough to spend time with our adorable niece; Ellie and Ryan, who have just become our new favorite couple friends and who have made the ridiculously long drive to Denham Springs more than worth by having such an adorable daughter, Ava; Nick and Jeff, without who's hospitality (and extra-large house) we might have gotten to experience being homeless in New Orleans, this is one Big Easy experience I think I can live without; Gwen and Cheryl Lynn, our adopted mother and sister who tried desperately (and still might) to give us jobs, took us to an awesome dinner, and gave us first hand lessons in the New Orleans accent; Gran and Gramps, for giving us a base of operations in BR and not minding so much when we only used it a little; Bear and Dee, who are just about the coolest cousins a guy could ask for, and who provide a great reason for finding a house in New Orleans big enough to have a guest room; Tootie and Randy, for completing the family get together on Saturday by making an appearance at the boil; Jena and Chase, for caring for the Rogue menagerie while we were away; and finally Pat and Chuck, the first people we met after moving to the city, that's right we had decided for all of about thirty minutes when we ran into our first natives while talking too loud at dinner.

My entire life, I've felt like the things I am supposed to do are shown to me by the fact that they seem to appear from nowhere. Ella and I each sent dozens of resumes out over the last couple of weeks. The jobs we took (or probably will take, in my case) were nowhere on the list of jobs we had applied for. The job interview that got us to New Orleans early (and the one that kept us in the city for an extra day) were not jobs we had known about or applied for. When we met Chuck and Pat, we were just enjoying our meal a little too much. How were we to know that they were successful people (who back Bobby Jindal, just like me) who happen to own several rent houses? Call it whatever you want, fate, Providence, coincidence, or the overt Hand of God. I'm pretty sure now that we are supposed to be in New Orleans. That is about as comforting a thought as I could have.

Now, with four weeks left until our European excursion, Ella and I are busy packing, selling and just plain getting rid of as much crap as we can stand to lose. We've got to be out of our house by at least the seventh of May, my last day in radio is the fourth, and in between here and there I've got about eight performances of "Zorro". It's a good thing we didn't put too much on our plate, isn't it?

Thanks to everyone who checked in while I was away. The Drunken Rogue is back, with a lot of things to say.

So I'm Turning Into My Father? Well, There are Worse Things I Could Be...

We take a break from our regularly scheduled blogging to honor the man that largely made me what I am today...well, he was there at the very beginning anyway.

Today my Dad, Jimmy Everette, turns 60. And I have to say it's been an eventful six decades. In 1947 President Truman announced the "Truman Doctrine" designed to stop the spread of Communism, Jackie Robinson became the first African-American to play in the Major Leagues, the United States Air Force was formed using branches of the Army and Navy and Chuck Yeager broke the sound barrier. People born in 1947 include: David Bowie, Jack Hanna, Laura Schlessinger, Nolan Ryan, Farrah Fawcett, Edward James Olmos, Rob Reiner, Billy Crystal, Ry Cooder, Emmy Lou Harris, David Letterman, Kareem Abdul-Jabaar, Dave Barry, Arlo Guthrie, Arnold Schwarzenegger, David Mamet and Stephen King. Not a bad group to be in.

These people were old enough to be awestruck when the first man walked on the moon. They've seen not only the birth of the Internet, but the explosion of the computer itself. They've watched television go from black and white to color to high definition, not to mention from 13 inches to over 50. They lived through the red scare (started in 1947), the race wars, the Vietnam War, Watergate, a Presidential assassination (and several more attempts), an impeachment, Republican majorities, Democratic majorities, recessions, bubbles, gas shortages and literally everything in between. They've got stories to tell, and it's an awful shame that we don't listen more often. They are the most successful, most diverse, longest living generation in American history (if not World history). They're a hard act to follow, and they expect a lot out of us. But they've provided a pretty good road map to follow.

On his sixtieth birthday, I want to say thanks to my Dad. Thanks for working hard. Thanks for the free room and board those first eighteen years, I probably wouldn't have made it without them. Thanks for the gas money, and groceries while I was in college. Thanks for standing and taking it (without getting your feelings hurt) when I got a little education and decided that you were backward and simpleminded. Thanks for not rubbing it in when I realized I was wrong. Thanks for setting a good example of a life well lived, with friends and family ahead of success and possessions. Thanks for loving Mom, and showing me that being a good husband is hard work but delivers one of the biggest rewards life has to offer.

Thanks for pushing me to achieve, even when I thought you were pushing in the wrong direction. Thanks for reminding me of the direction when I lost my way. Thanks for instilling a love and reverence for the written word, and those that lay it out. Without it, I'd probably be an accountant, and while my bank account may be a little more full, my reader's inboxes would be empty. Hmmm, on second thought maybe I won't thank you for that one.

Thanks for coming to see me in plays, even though you had little interest in Theatre. Thanks for taking me hunting, even though I had little interest in the outdoors. Thanks for your persistence, though some call it stubbornness. It wore off, and it's won me a lot of fights over the years. Thanks for occasionally losing an argument, and thanks for admitting it when you were wrong. It means so much more coming from someone like you or me.

Mostly, thanks for being around. I know now, that not every one's Dad is. At every stage of my life it's been helpful to know, no matter how badly I fail at something, I've always got a safe place to land. Thanks for providing the safe place.

Happy birthday, Dad. I hope you don't feel any older today than you did yesterday, and no older next year than you do right now. If you liked this birthday wish, just wait 'till you see the one I'm working on for your seventieth.