The Mighty Mississippi

The furthest east Armando has ever been is the Louisiana State Highway 44 cut off for Kinder, Louisiana, to go gamble at the Coushatta Casino.  I was excited for him to get to cross the Mississippi River for the first time.  This American icon brings to mind so much that is Americana for me.  The romantic figure of the paddle wheel steamships ferrying riverboat gamblers and the fine-dressed women that would naturally follow such worldly types.  The images conjured up by Mark Twain.  The Mississippi River that wound past antebellum homes appreciated for their charming grandeur before we developed a national conscience about the sad state of affairs that allowed them to thrive.

Oops, before I get off into a swamp of political controversy, I'd better get back to the task at hand, describing this wonderful vacation.  As I was saying, there's just something about the energy of this magnificent, moving body of water that moves me, as well.  Watching that huge river make its way towards the Gulf of Mexico, taking the northernmost parts of this country and depositing them further south, one grain of sediment at a time, is mind boggling to me.  So, it's a great day for any American when they first cross this great waterway that pours from the very heart of this land.

When Armando crossed it the first time, we were fighting traffic in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, midday on Saturday of Father's Day weekend.  Traffic was a bear and there was nowhere we could stop to record this momentous occasion for posterity.  So, after I snapped the first pic above, I literally threw the camera to Armando and began shouting instructions for taking selfies on an iPhone (he's an Android guy).  "Click up here to reverse the lens! Click down here to take the shot! Get the  river in the shot!!  Don't quit clicking the button!!!  Hold it up higher!!!!! Higher!!!!!!"  By the time I had whipped him into a selfie frenzy, my iPhone camera sounded like a string of firecrackers on New Years Eve.  We had two dozen pics without a single clear shot of the actual river.  Of course, that was the fault of the back light and not the fault of the picture taker or picture-taking director.  You'll have to take my word for it that below the railing shown in this pic, indeed, flows the Mighty Mississippi.