rock, paper, cannons

If you ever think you will have a hard time convincing me of going somewhere, just sell me on its history. Especially if that history has cannons. 

I had no intention (at all, ever, nope, you can't make me, not going to happen) of visiting the Louisiana State University campus in Baton Rouge. I had half a mind to attempt to find their Rural Life Museum (because I am THAT nerd), but the abundance of purple and gold that exudes from all-things-LSU-related has so far turned me off. I am whatever the opposite of "fan" is of sports, especially of teams with nothing-less-than-obnoxious fans. While visiting Baton Rouge the other night, a friend of mine insisted I visit the campus. 

"No."

"But it is where I went to school!"

"No."

"But it is part of this area's culture and you should at least visit it to be familiar with the culture."

"No."

"They've got a live tiger! We can visit a live tiger!"

"No."

"Two cannons fired at Fort Sumter were donated by William Tecumsah Sherman to the school and are on display."

"YES! What are we waiting for, let's go!"

So I got to see the cannons. I was also excited about Sherman's once-upon-a-time presence at the site, but then my friend had to let me down gently, informing me that Sherman was the president of the school when the campus was in Pineville, not the current site. Bummer. It's like that old saying: you can take the girl out of the battlefield park, but you cannot take the interest of battle history out of the girl. Or something like that.