Even though we’re in Civil War country, the National WWII Museum is fabulous. We spent 5 1/2 hours there today—before lunch! It was just so riveting (no pun intended!) We each received dog tags for a different soldier that we could follow through the museum. John’s solider was a true hero who was brought home to help raise money for war bonds. He wanted to help the war effort so much that he begged to go back. He then returned to the Pacific, eventually dying a hero’s death at Iwo Jima. My guy got his mother to vouch that he was 17 when he was only 15! When they discovered the age problem, they caller her. She said, “Keep him.” He stayed safe through the war and ended up working in construction back home. Cute story.

The museum uses lots of film and personal accounts from interviews with veterans. Terrific stories. One of our favorites was of a soldier who was able to capture a platoon of German soldiers. As they were rounding them up, he asked each where he was from. One said “Portland, Oregon!” He’d had dual citizenship so when Hitler begged for men to return home and help build the super race, he succumbed. Our soldier then asked, “How do you feel now?” The answer was, “That I goofed!”

After the museum, we rested up for our wild Saturday night in the French Quarter. Everyone has given us recommendations on where to go and I had the list ready! We dressed up and headed out by streetcar (a real perk of the trip) and then found ourselves on the seedy side of the street! What we saw was orderly, but messy. It was like Disneyland with trash. There were a few street acts, but none of the music that I was looking for. We did see a gutbucket bass, kids playing bucket drums, a tennis shoe tap dancer, and a strange corner act. That’s when I succumbed. The kid looked scholarly and out of place!  I had to ask what he was doing there with his tiny typewriter sitting upon a tiny desk. He said he was a street poet and that he would write me a poem on any subject I wanted in just a few minutes (Just like in “Kismet!”) With my suggestions, he typed out his deepest thoughts. I now own a signed original!

We ate at one of the restaurants on our list— Pat O’Brien’s. The Final Four was on. Looked like UNC was winning…. Whoo hoo!  Good night!