New Orleans Road Trip #1 – TMP Origins
A Stop We Almost Skipped
By the time we reached the National WWII Museum, our New Orleans trip was almost over. We’d spent the night before at the haunted Cornstalk Hotel, where antique charm met ghostly legends and laughter echoed through the hallways.
We were tired, emotional, and a little quiet. My son was already a history buff—especially World War II—but his dad had asked me to leave the full museum tour for him and his father’s side of the family.
So, we honored that.
Instead of stepping through the exhibits, we stayed outside. We explored the Blue Star Memorial garden, wandered through the gift shop across the street, and soaked up what little time we had left together. It wasn’t the grand museum experience I’d imagined, but it turned out to be something gentler. Something that mattered more.
Mom, the Hat, and the Salute
The gift shop was full of nostalgia—war-era posters, model planes, ration books, and caps that looked like they’d been pulled straight from an old footlocker. Mom tried on a vintage-style ladies’ hat and looked so striking I had to grab a photo. My son put on a WWII helmet, stood tall, and gave a full salute. No grin—just a serious, soldier’s face.
It caught me off guard. For a moment, it wasn’t playacting; it was a glimpse of the man he’d become one day.
Outside, the Blue Star garden shimmered in the Louisiana sun. The bronze plaque was simple, but it said everything it needed to:
“A tribute to the Armed Forces that have defended the United States of America.”
The streets around us still carried traces of the French Quarter’s chaos and charm—a little quieter in the daylight, but still humming beneath the surface.
We stood there for a while—three generations, quiet, grateful, caught between pride and heartbreak.
The Hardest Goodbye
This was our final stop before saying goodbye. My son’s dad was late, traffic was heavy, and I was doing everything I could to stay composed. I smiled, I hugged him, and I let him go.
The road home felt heavier than the one that brought us here. But somewhere between the bridges and the fading skyline of New Orleans, I realized this trip had become more than a family handoff. It had become the beginning of something I didn’t even know I was building—Travel Made Personal.
Echo’s Corner
The National WWII Museum began as the D-Day Museum, opened in 2000 to honor the pivotal role of Higgins Industries in building the landing craft that carried soldiers to the beaches of Normandy. It’s since grown into one of the most respected military museums in the world, preserving not just the machinery of war, but the human stories behind it.
Even outside the main exhibits, the museum’s grounds are layered with meaning—the Blue Star Memorial garden honors living veterans and their families, while the surrounding streets are lined with plaques that tell smaller, quieter stories. Sometimes, you don’t have to go inside to feel the weight of history.
If You Go
📍 Location: The National WWII Museum, 945 Magazine Street, New Orleans, Louisiana
🕰️ Hours: Daily, 9:00 a.m. – 5:00 p.m.
🎟️ Admission: Tickets vary; discounts available for veterans and active duty military
🌿 Don’t Miss: The Blue Star Memorial garden across the street—it’s small but deeply moving
Final Thoughts
This was the last page of my first travel journal—the end of the beginning. I didn’t know then how much it would change me. I just knew I needed to keep going, to keep writing, to keep finding the stories hiding along the roadside.
✈️ This stop marked the end of our first New Orleans adventure. If you missed the earlier parts of the story, start at The Cornstalk Hotel or stroll through The French Quarter before the road leads home.
Some journeys end where others begin.
Some journeys begin quietly—with a single salute, a shared story, or a promise to keep remembering. Join me as the road to Travel Made Personal continues
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