Louis was only 53 in the picture above. He just made 70 yesterday.
Louis and his wife, Iris, are two of our best friends in the whole world. They’re the godparents of our third daughter, Isabel.
I first met Iris back in the early 1980s when we worked together at an advertising agency in New Orleans. Louis was a deputy chief of police at the time. They’ve always treated us like family, which was especially nice since our own families often didn’t. Their three “kids” are about our age, and great people, too.
When we left Wisconsin in 1991, we headed back to New Orleans, but wound up in New Iberia — in the heart of Cajun country, about three hours west of New Orleans — for a few months. One day, Louis and Iris drove over from New Orleans and popped in on us unexpectedly. We didn’t have much to offer them in the way of entertainment, so we invited them to take a spin on the rope swing I’d hung from a giant oak tree in our backyard. It was a barge-mooring rope I’d found behind the Mississippi River levee in Jefferson Parish, with a Volkswagen hubcap for a seat (very comfy!); and it hung far from the trunk on a branch 20-feet high, so it made a full circle and provided quite a ride. It’s hard to believe it was 17 years ago. A fond memory.
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