When I was a kid growing up in Ruston in the late 1950s and early ’60s, Saturday nights meant window shopping on Park Avenue, venturing across the street to look at the giant goldfish in the pool at the base of the fountain in Railroad Park, and going to the Darietta for an ice cream cone to lick on the drive to the airport, where we sat and watched the beacon rotate from red to green to white to red to green to white.
