I am fascinated with old churches and graveyards, this is why I‘ve reserved a very special place among a small group of other interested parties, to hear the stories that took place in New Orleans past eras, with a visit to the 200 year old, Our Lady of Guadalupe Church, once used as a mortuary and surrounded by what some same refer to as the once seedy, jazzy Red Light section of this colorful city, I’m relieved to have found a guide that has authorized entrance into the St. Louis #1because of its age and past incident of unfortunate vandalism, I’ll need this escort for my 2-hour visit to hear all the gossip. What type of stories shall the local guide share with us? Well, I’ve heard it’s about voodoo queens, terrible murderers, the masters
of the old plantation homes, the orphans and numerous people falling to the fate of the yellow fever running rampant (and the mass graves used to bury them all together for lack of space), along with the legends of spirits floating about. I’m taking the fun trolley train, to meet up with everyone at a coffee house on North Rampat Street. It’s great the streetcar stops right where I need to be and my considerate tour guide shall send me a text to let me know what they look like, so I don’t become confused. I choose the 10:00 a.m. tour and leaving about 9:00 a.m. to give myself enough time to arrive without being rushed around. Just so you know, there are other times available (11:00 a.m. and 1:00 p.m). I like the tour ends at the Basin Street Station visitors center, this gives me a chance to look over all the brochures about other attractions in the French Quarter and more than likely use the clean restroom. I know, I’ve piqued your interest. Don’t hesitate; find the schedule that matches your itinerary on your next trip to the historic French Quarters. You can find out from your personal, local guide all the secrets about the happenings in the Our Lady of Guadalupe Church and the St. Louis #1. With all of its significant cultural diversity merging together through the ages, its astonishing outcome is a sight; nobody should pass up seeing and hearing about first-hand!
I was sitting with my friend, Pistol on one of the bucking shoots watching the barrel race.
Statues and shrines of Our Lady of Consolation can be found in thousands of cities around the world. Constructed of marble, wood, or other stone, these replicas hold a special aura about them. One such sculpture of Our Lady of Consolation, located in Leopold, Indiana, has a fascinating history entirely its own. July 4, 2002 marked the 135th year since the statue had reached the shores of America (Hackmann 1). As the result of a promise, the replica of Our Lady found its new home in southern Indiana. Following their capture and shipment to the horrid Civil War prison at Andersonville, four young men—Isidore Naviaux, Henry Devillez, Lambert Rogier, and Xavier Rogier—endured appalling conditions and made an oath to pay tribute to Our Lady of Consolation if one survived.
...ective." Louisiana History 53.2 (2012): 133-167. America: History and Life with Full Text. 9 Apr. 2014. Web.
Results, by a single cursory document, came out from Republican Alley. In early October of 1991 “eleven bodies had been found” (Kutz 1994). When excavation ceased, due to community and political complications, more than four hundred men, women and children were exhumed from the oldest cemetery containing African Americans in the United States.
In 1531 the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared to a poor and humble Indian man named Juan Diego at Tepeyac Hill, northwest of what is now Mexico City. The “Lady from Heaven” (Our2) requested of Juan Diego one thing – to build a church on the ground where she appeared. She said to Juan Diego “"My dear little son, I love you. I desire you to know who I am. I am the ever-virgin Mary, Mother of the true God who gives life and maintains its existence. He created all things. He is in all places. He is Lord of Heaven and Earth. I desire a church in this place where your people may experience my compassion. All those who sincerely ask my help in their work and in their sorrows will know my Mother's Heart in this place. Here I will see their tears; I will console them and they will be at peace. So run now to Tenochtitlan and tell the Bishop all that you have seen and heard" (Our1)
A 19-year old female from Harford County, Maryland, narrated the story of Black Aggie, the urban legend of an overnight stay in a cemetery. She grew up Christian, and still lives in one of the more rural areas of Maryland with her younger sister and parents, who own and work at an electrical contracting business. Accustomed to hearing many ghost stories and urban legends, she first heard the story of Black Aggie during a middle school slumber party. Late one Saturday night over pizza in our Hagerstown dorm, she was more than willing to share her favorite urban legend with me.
The sanctuary was bare, and the pews hard. I mentally tallied a comparison between my own church's sanctuary and this. The two, I found, were similarly austere, but with theirs tending toward items of religious kitsch and our own tending instead towards polished brass. Both lacked stained glass in the windows. I suspected, however, that where our sanctuary was plain in token tribute to the long-dead strict streak of our Calvinist tradition, theirs was bare because it could not economically be otherwise. And the lack of air conditioning ! Memphis' summer heat is unbearable and pervasive, and a roof overhead does nothing against the big blanket of humid air.
The harrowing tale begins with a quaint story that is well packed with details to prelude the readers to the upcoming adventure.
Prisoners from France have been sent to New Orleans by the King to start a transformation of the swamp. A lot of the prisoners ended up dying while in New Orleans because of the blood thirsty animals there that they've never seen before. They also got diseases from insects, but yellow fever was the worst one. Slaves soon came over to New Orleans and they were at a mansion owned by Delphine LaLaurie and her husband. A twelve year old slave was trying to escape and she ended up tripping a fell off a balcony and ended up killing herself. Later on the owners of the mansion were mercilessly abusing the slaves and killing them. Because of these cruel events the children haunt the grounds of the mansion. Some slaves were trying to run away and they just disappeared in thin air. Another haunted story from New Orleans is about a woman named Marie Laveau. She was the voodoo queen in New Orleans. She once later died and her daughter took over as her role, but then she later died too many centuries later. They both haunted the St. Louis Cemetary they were buried in. People say that they've been attacked by the spirits. They even say that they've seen her stand in front of her tomb to see what people have given her. Even now today when people practice voodoo Marie Lavuea come
The book Unfathomable City: A New Orleans Atlas by Solnit and Snedeker it not an atlas of roads, but a journey through the sights, smells, and heritage of the great city of New Orleans through maps and essays. Within it are the essays “When They Set the Sea on Fire” by Antonia Juhasz about the BP oil spill in the Gulf. As well as “No Sweetness is Light” by Shirley Thompson about the sugarcane industry in New Orleans. The two essays compare greatly in the concepts of deception, greed, and the cause of sickness. The artifice in these essays bring so much false hope and suffering to the people of New Orleans.
The religious site that I chose for my course assignment is the Church of Saint Raymond, a historical landmark. One could say that it definitely stands out boldly in the neighborhood that its located in which is the Castle Hill/ Parkchester proper in the Bronx. Growing up I frequently visited the church and was always astounded by its massive size and incredible architecture. Compared to the dimly lit parish of Santa Maria, which always smelled like wet wood (and still does), it always seemed unreal being inside. I was born and baptized a Roman Catholic, and became a parishioner of Santa Maria church located in the Zerega Avenue neighborhood of the northeast Bronx. I attended school, played on the basketball team, and was an altar server there as well. Santa Maria and St. Raymond’s always had a big rivalry when it came to the basketball season. Growing up I was fortunate enough to have attended several summers the “St. Ray’s” annual basketball training camps where I had the pleasure of meeting both college, and professional basketball players. Besides its beautiful and massive church, Saint Raymond’s has two separate elementary schools, one for boys and one girls, and a high school for boys. Its high school basketball team, “The Ravens” has a great reputation known on a national level. Another thing that I should not fail to mention is St. Raymond’s Cemetery, which is one of the busiest cemeteries in New York City. It is located in the north eastern part of the Bronx in a sector that in ranges from the Bruckner Expressway, Cross Bronx Expressway, the Hutchinson River Parkway and ends in Ferry Point Park by the Whitestone. It has an estimate of 4,000 annual burials.
Jake watched as Miss Collins’ horse galloped through the trees and out of sight. He made an exasperated snort and slid the Winchester into the rifle scabbard. His duty was to get Duvall, and he’d start by doubling back to the dead or wounded outlaws.
Located in the popular Yosemite National Park, Yosemite Falls is the tallest waterfall in California. Every year, mother nature’s breathtaking beauty attracts millions of people from around the world. People hike for three long and fatiguing hours in anticipation of witnessing forceful water rushing down the steep mountain from 2,425 feet above. Last summer, my family and I backpacked through the Yosemite Falls Trail and I came to learn what a truly exhausting experience it is.
The Creature That Opened My Eyes Sympathy, anger, hate, and empathy, these are just a few of the emotions that came over me while getting to know and trying to understand the creature created by victor frankenstein in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. For the first time I became completely enthralled in a novel and learned to appreciate literature not only for the great stories they tell but also for the affect it could have on someones life as cliché as that might sound, if that weren’t enough it also gave me a greater appreciation and understanding of the idiom “never judge a book by its cover.” As a pimply faced, insecure, loner, and at most times self absorbed sophomore in high school I was never one to put anytime or focus when it came time
However, it is the small details that reveal its historical significance. On the outside of the church there are several metal placards that reveal the history behind this little church. The interior has a lively yet reverent ambient and the smell of lit candles lingers the air. At the time of my visit the church was crowded mainly with Hispanic families who had attended the Dia de los Muertos celebration at La Placita Olvera. Outside on the courtyard next to the church many people were conversating about their dead relatives and about the celebration itself in a bittersweet manner while they lit candles to place in front of an altar with a dark skinned Christ. Today the average person does not notice the historical value of this church mainly because this church has been rebuilt as a replica of the original church using modern materials, which make it hard to notice its historic