It’s been a while since we’ve returned to the places this all started. Haven’t use our camera for a while so the date wasn’t reset for these photos. On the morning of May 15th 2012, for what ever reason it felt like it was time. Were not sure how long its been now. Maybe 10 years or more. You sure get strange feelings when you consider the form and size of attack taking against you in such matters. It wasn’t long however before we again realized what was taken from us. The area we were buying, the place we called Paradise seem to still be the quite and peaceful place we sought over 15 years ago. From one end of Frank Kennedy road to the other and even with stops for a picture or two, not the first car was met driving throught the area. It was always a beautiful and serene place compared to the worldly troubles needed by corporate attorneys and state officials just to protect and extort what was had through the use of our life.

Guess you’d have to be a runner to appreciate long winding country roads or just someone like us who loves getting away from it all. Seeing deer run across the road ahead of us brought back memories of the herd of deer which hung around our place as well hunting dogs which had numbers painted on their sides during hunting season. As far as the actual place it looks like some clearing out of the driveway was had. We sold the place to a woman who’s last name was Morain. Kelly Morain. She was said to have committed suicide a short time after moving in. Everyone who knew her said they believe she was murdered. Could someone have believed that they were attacking the Marie’s and mistakenly, well you get it. Here’s the actual driveway. It was about 75 yards down the drive to where our mobile home was. The mound of dirt to the right of the driveway remains and a tree I used to sit under can be seen from the drives gate. I wanted to go down the drive but I didn’t.

Going down the road another mile we come to a driveway leading to a horse farm which I named the Dixion Compound, a name which stuck with everyone around the area. If these driveways could talk they would tell of wonderful times of horse riding real freedom and friendships made. Along with the scant of corporate greed and destruction. Some of the horse’s had real characters as did some of the folks who rode them. Behind the compound were trails which went for miles along Monroe Creek. One thing not changing much was the little church.

Yep, we paid a visit to stink town. Gaylord and the road work around Arata’s Office. The  sidewalk and Road are under repair. We also visited to photograph the office of a shrunk put on us and the place where old Sacks and Smith had their office of class crap. Still a trip to Bogalusa calls for a meal from either Zesto’s for their chilly or Glenn’s for those lick your lip Po-Boys.


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