By HARRIET PROTHRO PENROD

Her journey to head tennis pro is not a common one — she didn’t grow up playing tennis and compete in junior tournaments, play in high school and college, and then start teaching lessons.  Jill Zimmer, the new owner and head pro at Southern Hills Tennis Center, took a different path – and quite an interesting one.

Tell us about your family and background.

I was born in Natchitoches in 1976. My father was a game warden in the Kisatchie National Forest, where my Taylor Family has lived since the early 1800s. My sweet father, who passed away when I was 13, was in War II and the Korean War. They had me later in life, so I was a little bit spoiled. I have one older brother and two older sisters. My mother was a P.E. teacher and a basketball softball coach for 30 years and a sports fanatic. I grew up on the softball field pretty much of my young life. At a very young age, I was with those high school girls catching and throwing for hours every day.

How and when did you start playing tennis?

My story of how I started playing tennis is a little different than most. I didn’t start out as a junior player. In fact, I actually started when I was 32 years old when a friend of my husband’s was a tennis pro at Stone Bridge country club at the time. My friend had begged me for months to play, but I told her I wasn’t really the tennis person type.

So, one day she finally broke me down and I went to play. Let’s just say from that moment on, I became obsessed. The playing catch and throwing on the softball field had paid off. My hand-eye coordination was really good and I picked it up really fast. From then on, I started taking tennis lessons from pretty much everyone in town. I would make goals for myself every two years. I wanted to move up a level, and I did. My goal was to make it to 4.0 but I passed that goal and became a 4.5. I feel like that’s pretty good for not being a junior player and playing my whole life.

Then I got asked to be the Airline tennis coach. I was terrified but then when I started it, I was like, “Wow, I can do this.” My mother was so unbelievably proud of me and bragged to everyone that I was a coach like her. And I definitely see her in the way I coach. My mother passed away three years ago and that’s what made me get certified as a teaching pro. She inspired me to keep pushing myself and make my goals come true. 

How did the job at Southern Hills Tennis Center come about?

If you would have said to me, “You will be the owner and head pro at Southern Hills Tennis Center,” I would have laughed in your face. It started by me just working up there part time for my friend Tyler Semmes. He had moved to Kansas and Rhonda Rubben asked if I would like to be the interim pro. I said, “I’ll try it, I guess.” With that said, weeks went on and then, she sat me down and asked the big question, “Jill, would you want to be the official head pro and own Southern Hills for yourself?” I said, “Rhonda, you’re out of your mind. There’s no way I can do this.” Then I remembered, “Okay Zimmer, you just coached kids that never played tennis before and they went to state, and then you just passed a really hard tennis certification test without being a junior player. You can do this.” So — with a lot of thinking and praying — I took the chance on this diamond-in-the-rough place.

I hear wonderful things about what you’re doing at Southern Hills. What are some of the improvements to the facility and things you have implemented?

First and foremost was to move the process on new court resurfacing and get my pickleballers their new six courts. I kind of made that my mission for them. I got a meeting set up to view some pickleball courts that would be similar to what they were wanting, and SPAR went ahead and got that rolling. I have worked in making the center feel welcoming and, as everyone says, “putting that ladies touch to it,” and trying to keep things clean and maintained. Recently, we have lightened up the place with painting inside and the outside door, which looks amazing, thanks to an awesome sponsor. 

What do you like to do to relax?

I love to travel. My family and I love California and actually just got back from there. I love to get out to our family land and just be still for a couple of days when I’m really needing to relax.

And, of course, a good hotel in Dallas is always good, too. 

You can invite any four people (alive or not) to dinner. Who would you invite?     

Well, of course, you have to have Jesus there. And besides my mom and dad, it would be Jerry Seinfeld, George Strait, and — I know this is crazy — but Post Malone. Haha!

Contact Harriet at sbjharriet@gmail.com

JOURNAL STAFF

Paul Williamson was the Week 8 Pick ‘Em prize winner of $250.  This week had 44 pickers with 10 of 10 or 100%.  Paul was the winner of the tiebreaker of total points without going over!  Congratulations!

Now it’s time to make your picks for Week 9 of local high school football.  

Participation is very simple for anyone able to access this link:

https://tinyurl.com/SBJPickem

The Pick ‘Em portal opens to a menu of game-by-game matchups, with an easy click to pick winning teams for each contest. Two local games will be used as tiebreakers, with participants predicting the total points scored in those games.

You can finish faster than the time it takes you to read this story start to finish!

Entries are open now to predict local games this week.

Every participant will receive a FREE Journal subscription if you’re not already signed up for the easily-navigated, convenient 6:55 a.m. daily e-mail.

Local Pickers

Week Eight		%
10-0		100

Week Seven		%
9-1		90

Week Six		%
9-1		90

Week Five		%
10-0		100

Week Four		%
10-0		100

Week Three		%
10-0		100

Week Two		%
10-0		100

Week One		%
10-0		100

By Robert St. John

PETROGNANO, TUSCANY— A few months after my wife and I started dating she wanted me to meet her grandmother. We set out on the road from Hattiesburg to north Louisiana, and I asked, “Where are we going?”

“Shreveport,” she said. Around the time we got to Jackson she said, “Actually it’s in Minden, Louisiana.” After we crossed the Mississippi River she said, “It’s really closer to Ruston.” When we reached the outskirts of Ruston, she said, “It’s just a little outside of Homer.” She wasn’t trying to be vague or hiding anything but the easiest, and more familiar, initial waypoint to give was Shreveport, which was 50 miles away from the actual destination.

It’s no different than citizens of Germantown, TN, who— when out of town— respond to the question, “Where are you from?” by simply saying, “Memphis.” If you live in Marietta, GA and are speaking to someone in New York you say, “Atlanta.” The person from Metairie answers, “New Orleans.”

The question I am asked most when working overseas is, “Where will you stay?” When I’m doing this particular tour I just say, “Tuscany.” Though that is a very broad answer. That response covers any of 100 cities, towns, villages, and dots on the map. If I am speaking to someone in Tuscany, I use the name Tavarnelle. Though if someone in the Tavarnelle area asks where I am staying the answer is, “Outside of Barberino, near Petrognano.”

Petrognano isn’t even a town or village. It’s more of a small dot on a map— though not even on all maps— and nothing more than a one-mile stretch of road with a dozen farmhouses and a villa. It’s remote, and that is why I am here. I’ve been coming to this part of Tuscany since I discovered it in 2011. The villa we rent is very remote. It’s the last house at the end of a non-descript, bumpy gravel road that overlooks nothing but grapes and olives for 30 miles to the west. When I am hosting groups here, we are the only tourists the locals see.

At least Petrognano is still here. The city of Semifonte has been erased from the map completely.

Once a week I take my guests on a casual stroll through the Tuscan countryside. We start in Petrognano and walk a mile up the road to a small chapel in the middle of nowhere. It’s more than just a morning walk, though. That one-mile stretch of road covers from prehistory through World War II.

Millions of years ago this area was under water as the Mediterranean stretched far inland. We have found dozens of fossils embedded in the roadside embankments, under the olive trees, and among the grapevines. Up from the villa, at the top of the hill, is an Etruscan tomb which dates back 700 years BC.

The Germans set up a small headquarters at the main villa in Petrognano during the second world war. The cypress trees that line the road leading to the villa still bear scars from where the German soldiers partially cut them, planning to fell the trees when the allies advanced. Fortunately, the Allied advance was too swift, and the Germans had to retreat quickly. The cypress are still standing.

Up the road from that villa is spring dedicated to Saint Catherine of Siena, who once stopped there. Mothers nursing their babies still come and drink from that spring for good health. There’s a beautiful monument built there that’s over 500 years old.

At the top of the hill is the Chapel of Saint Michael, which is an exact 1:8 scale replica of Brunelleschi’s dome in Florence. It’s there to commemorate Semifonte, the town that once stood strong in this area.

Semifonte was a thriving city of 15,000 inhabitants located exactly halfway between the rival cities of Florence and Siena. Semifonte was growing quickly as it was situated along a very important trade route. Florence saw Semifonte as a threat and tried to take the city by force.

The citizens of Semifonte outlasted the Florentines for three years living inside their walls. Eventually, through some type of bribe from the inside, the Florentine army was able to gain access to the city and completely destroy the city. And when the historians mention, “completely destroy,” they mean it in a literal sense. They wiped it out to the point that nothing remaining from a city of 15,000— in an area that loves to protect its history— stands today.

All the bricks and stones were taken and used to build the medieval town of Barberino just a couple of miles away. The local legend says the Florentines salted the fields so nothing would ever grow here. There are no descendants known from Semifonte. To make sure nothing was ever built there again, Florence erected several towers in the area to keep watch and make sure nothing returned. One of those towers is part of the villa in which we stay.

I love the morning walk we do with our guests, because it describes how a one-mile stretch of road in this part of the world contains so much history. It reminds me that everywhere I drive in the Tuscan region has a story and history behind it.

The road that runs through the neighboring towns of Tavernelle and Barberino is the Via Roma. It’s the road that leads from Florence to Rome. There are many sections of that road that seem nondescript with nothing apparently spectacular, though that is the road that Michelangelo traveled when heading to Rome to paint the Sistine Chapel. The road is so old that when Jesus was walking in Jerusalem, people were also walking on the Via Roma.

There are a lot of magpies in this area. Some cultures see magpies as bad luck. Others tell of magpies stealing jewelry and other trinkets as they are said to be attracted to shiny things and collect shiny things. Sometimes I feel like a magpie. Not in the bad luck since, but in the attracted-to-the-shiny-things sense. It’s easy to travel to Italy and want to see Michelangelo’s David or the Sistine Chapel. Those are most definitely “shiny things.” They are beautiful and historic and deserve to be admired. But in this part of the world there is so much more. I like to dig deep. I like to live where the locals live, eat where the locals eat, shop where the locals shop, and— at least for a few weeks out of the year— live as the locals live. I love taking a deep dive into Tuscan culture. Things are different here and that’s a good thing.

Over the years I have made many friends here. Some have come to see us in America. Others will visit in the coming years. In the meantime, I’ll keep introducing a couple of the shiny things to Americans as long as they want to keep travelling. But we will also be digging deep into the people, places, food, and culture of this wonderful, and history-filled, part of the world. That’s where the true life is, today.

Onward.

Pickled Zucchini

2 cups Zucchini, cut into 2” batons
1 cup White vinegar
½ cup Water
2 TB Sugar
1 TB Kosher salt
½ tsp Crushed red pepper
1 each Fresh garlic clove, thinly sliced

To sterilize, cover the jar and lid in water in a pot and boil for 5 minutes.

Pack the zucchini batons tightly into a sterilized 1-pint wide-mouth glass jar.

In a small pot, combine the remaining ingredients and bring to a boil. Immediately pour over the jar full of zucchini, leaving about ½” from the lip. Make sure you stir right before pouring so the crushed red pepper and garlic get into the jar. Discard any excess liquid.

While still hot, tighten the lid and let cool completely at room temperature. Once cooled, refrigerate.

Robert St. John is a chef, restaurateur and cookbook author

If the school year were a dog and the first day of school was its head and the last day was its tail, you’d be picking it up right behind its front legs about now. You’ve got a good, safe grip on it, but there’s a lot of dog left hanging down.

October, which rivals May (for different reasons) as the best month of the year, is soured by only two things: one is that winter and cold is coming, and the other is that, for the young student, there’s lots and lots of school year left.

That is not a bad thing once you get older and develop an appreciation for how quickly time passes and how lucky you were to be able to go to school. But who cares for such drivel when you’re a teenager?

Once you get out of school you learn that, secretly, you never really leave. You’re always learning something, whether you want to or not, which would be learning things the hard way. Examples:

“Yes, your honor, I understand!”

“Oh, so if my card is declined, that means there’s no money in the account?”

“I don’t know, doctor. I guess it was that 12th pork chop. Or the third bowl of Blue Bell.”

There’s a trick in just learning how to learn. My dad says that on the first day of school, they taught him that two plus two three equals four, and then on the next day they told him that one plus three equals four, and he decided right then that if they didn’t even know what equals four, how was HE supposed to ever know?

But once teachers coach you up, show you there’s more than one way to skin a cat, you realize the world is your classroom. Some of the smartest people you’ll ever meet got that way without having many documents to frame and hang on the wall.

Often a friend named Gene writes me, which I’m thankful for because he is old school, born in an oilfield company house near a wide spot in the highway in Depression era- Garfield County, Oklahoma.

When he was in elementary school, his family rented the first floor of a house owned by a gentleman named Whitey Liddard. He lived upstairs and owned a nearby café where Gene’s father worked as a short-order cook. Whitey had barely a third-grade education, but he was a Rhodes Scholar when it came to running an oilfield-town café.

One day a young customer came in to celebrate his high school education, the first diploma earned by a member of his family.

“He proudly displayed the new diploma for Whitey’s inspection,” Gene said. “Whitey looked it over, front and back, then handed it back to the graduate.

“Now that’s a fine thing to have,” Whitey said. “Just don’t let it keep you from learning something.”

Hearing that from a wise man like Whitey Liddard kept Gene modest as he went through both high school and college, even on to some graduate work. “I still try to ‘learn something’ every day,” he said.

True, some things will remain forever a mystery. Why, for instance, is the word panties plural and the word bra singular? Think about it. Or not.

Why do we eat nuts out of socks in front of a dead tree in our dens in December? Why is “contraction” such a long word?

The older I get, the more I understand that “I don’t know” when I really don’t know is a mighty handy answer.

Contact Teddy at teddy@latech.edu

(Ran originally 10-21-2012)

By HARRIET PROTHRO PENROD

Technically, Dr. Sandra McCalla and I met for “Coffee with Harriet” because it was Tuesday and she had her weekly meeting at the downtown Rotary Club during lunch. We could get together after lunch, so she suggested Rhino’s Uptown location. Call it whatever you want — I’d meet her anytime she was available.

McCalla is synonymous with Captain Shreve High School, where she began teaching math in 1967, served as assistant principal for two years and then as principal twice – from 1978-88 and again from 1994-2015.

In 2015, McCalla knew it was time to retire because of the ‘Three Fives’ — she was 75, had worked in the public school system for 55 years, and was tired of getting up at 5 a.m.

“I’m not a morning person,” she says with a smile.

Just as quickly as the smile appears on her face, however, it is gone and her eyes begin to tear up. Asking McCalla about retirement takes her back to those days in the spring of 2015.

There are many happy memories from all her years at Captain Shreve, but that particular time is not one of those.

On April 25 of that year, Shreve head football coach Richard Lary suffered a fatal heart attack while attending the final regular-season baseball game at Gator Field and died a short time later at Willis-Knighton Pierremont. McCalla wasn’t far from Lary when he collapsed and – when told where they would be taking him – beat the ambulance to the hospital.

“That’s a hard one,” she says as she recalls the memory.

While McCalla knew she would soon be retiring, she hadn’t made the formal announcement just yet — and Lary’s death put off the announcement for a little while. “I told the superintendent early that summer,” she says.

This time, McCalla would be leaving for good. When she left Captain Shreve in 1988 to take a leadership position at Northwestern State (her alma mater), it was a different situation — McCalla was working until midnight and when she asked for some things that other schools were getting, she was told, “Your parents can provide that.”

McCalla thought it was time for a change. She could stay away for only six years, however. In 1994, she started receiving phone calls telling her that Tommy Powell (who had taken over as principal when she left) was retiring and asking her to come back. When one of those calls came from the Caddo superintendent, she returned to Captain Shreve.

“I was thrilled to come back,” she says. “I’ve been blessed to have been given so many positions throughout my life. In fact, the only job I ever had to apply for was when I was 19 (years old) and trying to get a teaching position.”

She got that job – as a math teacher at Oak Terrace Junior High, where Stanley Powell was principal. When Powell left Oak Terrace in 1967 to become the first principal at Captain Shreve and wanted McCalla to join him, she “respectfully declined.”

“I was happy teaching math there,” she says.

Until she got a letter from the superintendent saying, “you’ve been appointed to Captain Shreve.”

McCalla taught math for 10 years and then served as assistant principal for two years. When Stanley Powell went to the Caddo Parish School Board Central Office in 1979, McCalla started her first stint as Captain Shreve principal.

When asked about some of the highlights of her time(s) as principal, McCalla is quick to recall when Captain Shreve was given the National Blue Ribbon School award in 1983 – bestowed by the U.S. Department of Education recognizing public and private schools for their overall academic excellence.

“It was a thrill,” she says as she describes being given the award at the White House by President Ronald Reagan. “There were only two schools from Louisiana that year. And we were one of them.”

The award-winning schools were presented with a flag and a plaque, which are on display at the school. (McCalla ordered a plaque and displays it proudly at her home.)

McCalla has never really left Captain Shreve. You can still find her at a number of school events, and she is still active in the Alumni Association and the annual Gator Run – the school’s only major fundraiser that she initiated 21 years ago.

“Back in 2001, we went to talk to Matt Brown at Sportspectrum,” says McCalla, “and I told him I didn’t see any high schools doing a walk/run.”

The partnership was a success as the Gator Run has been held every year (except the Covid year).

“Matt said, ‘But you’re not going to make any money the first three years,’” recalls McCalla. “But we’ve never lost a dime. We’ve made money every year and that money goes back into the school.”

I was recently reminded just how much respect McCalla holds in the education field.

When I was approached two years ago about teaching high school English at a private school, I told the superintendent that I was tempted to take the job because that was something I had always wanted to do. In fact, I told him, Dr. McCalla had wanted me to come to Captain Shreve and teach years ago.

But there was a problem — I had been a teacher for almost 20 years, but that was in elementary school. I wasn’t certified to teach high school.

“Sandra McCalla wanted you at Captain Shreve?” he said. “That’s all the certification I need.”

I got the job.

Contact Harriet at sbjharriet@gmail.com

You’re invited to join Coach Mike McConathy, his wife Connie, their family, and many friends at the Natchitoches Events Center Thursday for an announcement event officially launching his campaign for the Louisiana State Senate representing District 31.

The event is reception-style, running from 4:30-7 p.m., with a short program expected to tip off at about 6 o’clock. Attire is casual. Light refreshments will be served. There is no admission charge.

After concluding a remarkable career as an educator and basketball coach that began in the late 1970s, McConathy is continuing his lifelong commitment to being a servant-leader.

The vibrant 66-year-old Bossier City native and Louisiana Tech University graduate is the winningest college basketball coach in state history, with 682 victories in 39 seasons as head coach at Bossier Parish Community College (1983-99) and Northwestern State University (1999-2022). The number of wins is just one measure of his far-reaching impact not only on campus but in communities around northwest Louisiana.

The new District 31 has roughly 70 percent of its population located in Bossier, Caddo, Natchitoches and Sabine parishes, with portions of Webster, Bienville, DeSoto, Red River, Rapides and Winn included. That fits the geographic footprint which was the base of McConathy’s recruiting area and team rosters at NSU and Bossier Parish Community College.

District 31 has been served by Senator Louis Bernard, who announced this summer that he will not be seeking reelection.

McConathy grew up with a first-hand perspective on public service. His father, John McConathy, was the Bossier Parish Superintendent of Schools for 20 years and later was a key collaborator in the development of the modern Bossier Parish Community College campus between U.S. 80 and I-20 in Bossier City.

Among his accolades, the former NSU coach is enshrined in the university’s Hall of Distinguished Educators for his service as a faculty member at Northwestern, and in 2012 he earned an elite Pillar of Education award from the National Association of Basketball Coaches for leading the Demons’ program into continuing educational outreach in area schools. His program was noted for its wide-ranging community service endeavors, and its academic performance – a remarkable 90 percent of his players earned degrees at NSU.

For questions, information, call Mike McConathy, 318-792-1541