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DANNY HEITMAN AT RANDOM

Advocate editorial writer Danny Heitman began writing his weekly "At Random" column for The Advocate's People section in 1991. It appears each Friday and has twice been named Best Regular Column by the Louisiana Press Association. Heitman's writing has also won awards from the Associated Press. He has written essays for Smithsonian Magazine, The Christian Science Monitor, Child Magazine, Disney's Family Fun and other national publications.

In 2004, in recognition of his writing for local and national audiences, Heitman was selected to deliver the H.L. Mencken Memorial Lecture in Baltimore, Md. Previous lecturers have included syndicated columnist James Kilpatrick, radio commentator and public television host Alistair Cooke, and former New York Times columnist Russell Baker.

Heitman, a 1986 honors graduate of Southeastern Louisiana University, began writing for newspapers at age 14 when he joined the staff of The Ponchatoula Enterprise. A native of Ponchatoula, Heitman has worked as a general assignment reporter, environmental writer, film reviewer, music and TV critic and feature writer. In 2004, he joined The Advocate's editorial board.

You can e-mail Danny at dheitman@theadvocate.com or call him at (225) 388-0295.


When a friend asked if I might have any items for her church rummage sale, I really doubted if I could help her.
If you tuned in for this column a few weeks ago, then you’ll know it included a few words for the beauty of darkness, a feature of the late-night landscape that isn’t what it used to be.
Although poets often paint autumn as a time of closure and death, I’ve always thought of the season as a chance for new beginnings. The crisp air and clarified landscape suggest a clean slate and the opportunity for new dreams and fresh resolve.
As another Halloween arrives, I’ve been thinking about what makes a good horror story, thanks to the arrival of eight William Castle films on DVD.
I feel strange in saying so, but one of the nicest things my Grandmother Heitman gave me was the gift of darkness. I’m not talking about mental or spiritual darkness, but the physical darkness that descended on her country home on the evenings I’d spent the night there.
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