"New Orleans' reputation for good times, really good music, and really, really good food"

The first thing people ask when they find out you visited New Orleans is: What did you eat? We arrived late on a Saturday night, so our first real Cajun cuisine was breakfast beignets from Cafe du Monde (top left), which we fended off from feathery friends in City Park (top right). It was Easter Sunday, and people were staking out space for BBQs; I don't know how the yoga class could remain in warrior pose with all the savory, smoky smells wafting about (middle). We didn't have any grilled meats, but we did have some fake hot chicken, one of the rotating sandwich selections at Turkey and the Wolf (bottom left). We didn't know the open-till-sellout shop was such a foodie destination, but after eating the grilled cheese with collard greens and coleslaw, we understood why customers were lining up before its doors even opened. Still, I had to satiate my seafood cravings, so I ate shrimp three times during our trip, once in shrimp and grits at Meals from the Heart in the French Market, where Scott ordered some classic red beans and rice.

 

  

We didn't have many people ask: What did you drink? Perhaps because they just assume we had our usual beers, which we did. Our first night, we picked up a six pack from the cooler cave behind the world's first liquor store wedding chapel at Chuck's on the Avenue (top). And of course, we had to pick up some stickers from local craft breweries. We failed miserably at trivia at Urban South but successfully escaped the humidity at Brieux Carre (bottom left). We had a couple of pints and a conversation with a snowbird Ohioan from our neck of central Ohio at The Crown & Anchor (bottom middle). But I did stray from my standard suds by ordering a Sazerac at Old Absinthe House. The Old Fashioned-like cocktail, said to be perhaps the oldest in the country, is made with wormwood-free Herbsaint -- the name absinthe rearranged, with an extra R -- instead of absinthe (bottom right).

  

Once you get past victuals and alcohols, then people ask: What good music did you see? We didn't seek out any specific shows, but we did stumble upon songs a lot of places we went. We had a private piano performance by one of the duelists tuning his keys at My Bar @ 635 (top left). Only a few patrons joined us in jamming to zydeco beats, but then again it was only afternoon, and probably the Krazy Korner lived up to its name later in the evening (top right). By far, the best concert we saw was at Spotted Cat Music Club (bottom), with the innovative jazz stylings of Chris Christy band, no relation to any New Jersey governor past or present. 

  

Perhaps not surprisingly, no one asks: What did you learn about the city's history? But still, most people know that the city has a unique way of life beyond its "bon ton." The region is counter-culture encapsulated, with its residents frequently standing up to the status quo. Our AirBnB was the birthplace of blacklisted playwright Lillian Hellman, as noted in a plaque in the kitchen (top). Jackson Square, where Louisiana became part of U.S. territory in 1803, features a statue of Andrew Jackson, who became a hero for making the British stand down in the Battle of New Orleans, a pivotal confrontation in The War of 1812 (middle left). Two years after that land victory, in 1817, competition moved to the water; today, you can cruise on The Natchez, a 1972-built replica of the steamboats that once sat prominently on the docks of "The Big Muddy" (middle right). The high-water table caused by the Mississippi River contributes to the city cemeteries' fame, with their distinctive above-ground crypts, like those in St. Louis Cemetery No. 3 (bottom left). We wandered around the graveyard near City Park because the area's most notable (read: creepiest) Lafayette Cemetery No. 1 was closed for repairs (bottom right). 

 

  

New Orleans was literally built on the water, but it was also clearly built on the backs of immigrants, as indicated by the diversity of names carved into headstones. One afternoon, we crossed "Old Man River" by ferry to Algiers Point (top), where French, Spanish, German, Irish, Italian, and Cajun inhabitants combined in commercial interests such as shipping, lumber, iron, wax, and sugar, assisted mightily by the slave trade. Because of its levees, the second-oldest neighborhood fares better in hurricanes than the rest of the city, whose streets regularly flood during the rainy season, per intel from locals (bottom left). Luckily, our downpour day of flash flood warnings came the day after Easter, so the floats for the holiday parades didn't actually have to float (bottom right). As spectators, we scored candy, Zapp's chips, and signature souvenirs. So when inevitably people ask: Did you get any beads? we can say yes.

 

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Schwam, Diana K. “Big Easy Eats.” American Libraries, vol. 49, no. 6, 2018, pp. 70–77. JSTOR, https://www.jstor.org/stable/26494664. Accessed 28 Apr. 2025.

"Wait and to hope for the promised return visit"

I love to try new things and experience new places. But sometimes revisiting regular haunts for familiar fun can also be enriching. And comforting, which is -- for some reason -- what I was seeking in the second half of 2025. Our immersion into our normal started early, with a flood of concerts at tried-and-true venues. 

A four-day whirlwind began with a Father's Day show at a favorite intimate stage: Skully's Music-Diner, where Murder by Death killed with its alt-country rock set (top left). I particularly loved their cover of The Highwayman. Two days later, we were bouncing to Band of Horses at The Bluestone (top right), where we saw the Old 97's later in the summer. During a potty break, I stumbled across the poster for the first time we saw the latter group in the refurbished church, two years earlier (bottom left). A pleasant surprise at the Band of Horses concert was that we could check out the view from the balcony (bottom right), which had been corralled off every other time we'd been there.

 

 

No such luck at Newport Music Hall, where the second floor was closed (top left), likely because of the heat-stroke risk due to a non-working AC during a mid-summer show. That was a good call, considering Jenny Lewis was so hot (literally and figuratively) that she had a fan blowing directly on her (top right). This was my second time seeing her live (middle) after a long drought -- last time, she was performing with Rilo Kiley. It was also a delayed return to the venue -- I can't recall who I saw there, but the bathrooms brought me back to the early 2000s. I had a similar deja vu at the Ohio Theatre, where I'm pretty sure I saw The Nutcracker as kid (bottom left). This time, instead of marking the season of Jesus's birth with ballet, we were belatedly celebrating my birthday; as a present, Scott had bought us tickets to The Book of Mormon (bottom right).

 

 

We didn't just stay local during our concert circuit of second chances. In replicating a trip to Pittsburgh, we skipped over the river from downtown to the North Side, so we could be within walking distance of PNC Park, where I attended my first-ever open-air arena-rock extravaganza, a nostalgic pairing of Smashing Pumpkins and Green Day (top). On our way there, we swung by the suitably named Allegheny City Brewing (bottom left). There, we sipped some craft pints to recover from the enjoyable shock of stumbling through an outdoor wrestling festival in Allegheny Commons Park (bottom right). 

  

Our revival run in Louisville was to join friends at my inaugural music festival, Bourbon and Beyond. Like a fine whiskey, I have matured -- to the point where I know myself well enough to not sign up for a multi-day pass. Instead, we spent a single Sunday night enjoying big acts on the adjacent Oak and Barrel stages (top left). As an afternoon apertif to the musical headliners, we sampled Jim Gaffigan on a side stage, as he spoke about his Fathertime Bourbon (top right). In the evening, we downed a full flight of performances, some by mainstay musicians we have seen before, such as The National and My Morning Jacket (bottom left), and others by bucket-list legends past and present, such as The Beach Boys (bottom right) and Tyler Childers.

  

  

We made our perennial fall outing to Put-in-Bay, but this year, it was so unseasonably warm at East Harbor State Park that some fellow campers were sunbathing (top left). The trees above the Lockwood Cemetery, located within the park (top right), were nearly as green as when we spent a weekend on South Bass Island with friends in June (middle left). That summer weekend, we mostly had beautiful weather, with blue skies and a full sun, blocked only by Perry's Victory and International Peace Memorial (middle right). We just escaped the island by ferry before storms hit, as signaled by ominous clouds at the dock (bottom).

 

 

 

The seasons, and temperatures, had shifted by the time we reunited with the same friends for similar hijinks, but in a new town: South Bend. Despite our efforts to pay tributes at the Sun King Brewery (top left), it was a cold, dark walk to Barnaby's Pizza (top right), where we fueled up before watching the Notre Dame game at Corby's Irish Pub (bottom left). Scott shared a toast with his Hoosier doppelganger (bottom right), before we capped off the night at The View Tavern.

 

A few concert and city redos were actually sequels: They featured some of the same characters and locations but with different plots. In Zanesville, instead of gazing on the Y Bridge from Putnam Hill Park, we grazed in the fields of McDonald's Greenhouse (top left), where Scott's band performed the sunset set for the Muskingum County Farm Bureau's Jammin' on the Farm event (top right). In Oregon, instead of hydrating at The Den after a day of GOBA pedaling, I went for a pre-dawn jog at Maumee Bay State Park before staffing at an off-site work retreat (middle). During some down time, I also got to bask in dusk by the lodge's pond (bottom left) and dip my toes in Lake Erie (bottom right).

  

  

Speaking of parks, we reprised hikes at some favorite outdoor spots but on different trails. After a spur-of-the-moment camping overnight at A.W. Marion State Park, we did a morning loop on the Bear Corn Trail, which started steps from our site (top). During another revisit, we stepped vertically up the fire tower at Scioto Grove Metro Park (middle left). Apparently, you can see downtown Columbus from the top, but I was shaking so bad from wind and cold and nerves that I only snapped one landscape photo, in the southern direction away from the city (middle right). We did discover a new repository of rambles through the Arc of Appalachia initiative. It didn't take much persistence to complete the paths at Resilience Preserve on a clear day (bottom). We hope to go back soon for a winter wander around the meadows. 

 

  

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Churchill, Claire Warner. “The Journey to Oregon—A Pioneer Girl’s Diary.” Oregon Historical Quarterly, vol. 29, no. 1, 1928, pp. 77–98. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/20610407. Accessed 27 Dec. 2024.