Sitting On a Rock Wall

So I was sitting in the cemetery today. 

Great way to start a blog post. Let's rewind a bit.

It was pretty cold and midday so I stopped at Crawdaddy's food truck and picked up a bowl of gator chili with a scoop of Voodoo Pimanese and trucked it towards my favorite quiet lunch spot.

Sidebar: today I learned that Walgreen's at the corner of Turner McCall and Martha Berry has the same glass bottles of Coke that Foster's Mill Store sells but they don't have wooden floors, no antique Coke box and if you try to open your bottle on the front of their cooler the manager will throw you out in the street.

So it goes.

Back to the serious stuff. Ok, back to this entry anyway.

So I'm sitting there with Augustus Wright eating reptile meat, beans and cheese that may or may not be cursed. Judge Wright died in 1891. That might explain why he didn't have much to say. So I pull up my music and listen to some Allman Brothers. They wrote most of their music in Rose Hill Cemetery, so I found the selection appropriate.

So I'm sitting on the top of the stone wall with lichens growing on the capstone next to me. I'm eating my chili and drinking vanilla Coke from a plastic bottle and plotting revenge against the poor unsuspecting Walgreen's manager while feeling the "cold wind blowin' through my achin' bones". A van load of sightseers drove past with that all too familiar "look at the weirdo eating lunch in the cemetery" look on their faces. I waved with my plastic spoon and mumbled something about tourists that only the judge could hear. It must not have been very funny. He didn't laugh.

It's only a few more feet to the top of the hill and no one is going to stop long with a weirdo on the loose so the van comes back by soon and faster than it went up. I waved again.

Oh well.

But then I bag up my trash and stand up to walk around to tell the judge goodbye. There's a flash at the corner of my eye and I turn to see a cyclist zipping down the hill. Now where did he come from? He didn't go up the hill. I've been sitting here the whole time. I noticed he was glancing back over his shoulder, looking at me a lot like I was looking at him - each of us wondering what kind of weirdo would...never mind.

In closing, if you haven't had Crawdaddy's gator chili with Voodoo Pimanese, you need to. Their po boys are awesome as well. And the bread pudding with the rum sauce. Tell you what...if it comes out of that trailer, it's good. Go eat something.

Myrtle Hill is a great place for a quiet lunch. But go visit Von Gammon, John Billups or Calvin King. The Judge is spoken for. Oh, First Lady Ellen Wilson likes company too. And if you do visit Mr. King, don't bring banana ice cream. His wife, Fannie, is not a fan of it.

*Myrtle Hill Cemetery has a mobile app available in Android and iOS formats. The app is a great source of information on this beautiful historic cemetery. You can find the app in the App Store or wherever Android users find apps. 

The American South, the Past That Points to the Future.

Sometimes we can find a clear path to the future by looking into the past. So what I want to do right now is to ask you to let your imaginations carry you to the front porch of a two-story Victorian in South Georgia or a wrought iron veranda in New Orleans or maybe just take a walk through a stand of moss-covered live oaks along the Gulf Coast of Alabama. It’s ok if you sweat a little. Feel free to fan yourself a bit of blow the gnats out of your face.

Are you there?

First things first. There are some ugly truths in the place we are going. Things that cannot be removed or undone. Indian treaties, Slavery, Jim Crow and one terribly nasty and quite uncivil war. We can’t undo them so we learn from them, become better for it and move on. The future is counting on us.

Due to the darkness of our past, we are now a land of great diversity. We still have our issues and we have to continue to work to learn to live together, learn from each other and eventually come to trust each other. In accomplishing those goals, we have a strength of culture – look at our food, our art, our music, our literature: they tell of the lessons that our past has taught us and could only come from a shared experience that is not always pleasant.

Today the South is vibrant, hopeful and diverse. We have industry, commerce and our age-old agriculture to provide for our families. So get any thoughts of slavery, the Ku Klux Klan and all that crap out of your head right now. We.re taking that garbage out right now, the truck will pick it up and carry it to the landfill of history where it will be remembered but not repeated.

So let’s talk about the South

The Prehistoric South

The first Southerners came to the area during the Mississippi period. After ages of nomadic people, hunters and gatherers came the first true settlements in the area. This was when people learned that seeds could be placed in the ground, cared for and they could yield stable sustenance.

People still relied on hunting and gathering but agriculture enabled them to become long-term inhabitants of the same location. Once people could settle down, they began to form the sort of society that we can really learn from. We can assume the nomadic peoples had a semblance of society but they didn’t leave enough of a mark to know what it really looked like.

The Mississippian people planted what are known as the three sisters: corn, beans and squash. Corn grew tall and provided a “pole” for the beans to grown on. Beans returned nitrogen to the soil and the squash made a natural mulch. The three plants all helped each other. So even the crops were in community. These three crops were the staples of these people groups. No doubt other crops were grown but it was the Three Sisters that formed the cornerstone of early Southern agriculture. And to this day, corn, beans and squash are important in Southern cuisine. It was naturally sustainable agriculture.

So we know how people came to settle down. Then they began to build a society. We see these sites even today in places like Cartersville, GA, Macon, GA and at the Shiloh Battlefield in southern Tennessee. There are many others but these are three I’ve seen with my own eyes. The people built mounds that remain today. In these mounds researchers have found their tools, ceremonial items, pottery and other items that point us to their ways of life. They built great temples with precision that indicates they studied the movement of celestial bodies and the changing of seasons. They had structure in their society. The gathering places, games and religions indicate a community, not just a town.

Eventually groups like the Cherokees and the Creeks would have even more refinement and education built into their societies. Complex government structure and a layered society, agriculture and commerce were all a part of the groups’ ways of life. These Southerners were different than our Mississippian forebears but still similar in many ways. Their harmony with the land, their understanding that the land fed and clothed them made it important and they cared for it as well.

The Antebellum South

Well, in came the European settlers and remarkably, these people groups were shuttled away – a fact that I think serves as a bit of foreshadowing in our tale that we are working on.

The people that “settled” the South were also agrarians. They raised crops, not only for food but for industry as well. Cash crops like cotton and tobacco made many farmers wealthy. Sugar and rice were food crops but also cash crops as these food items came in high demand. Slavery did play an important role but many farmers that did not own slaves also farmed these crops as well.

Southerners typically grew all their food as well as their cash crops. What livestock that was raised typically went to feed the people on the farm in question – slave and free alike. Food was not typically imported from off the ground of the farm, much less another state or country.

Towns existed to support farms. What little industry emerged in the South was purely secondary to agriculture. People lived on the land, made the most of what they had and knew the importance of the land to their survival. Abusing the land was never a thought. You depended on it too much.

The social strata supported community. Even the slaves forged a distinct culture – they made music, told stories, and merged their long-treasured foods into the Southern society.

On the other end, the gentlemen used BBQs and parties and especially church (which may have been even more a social event than a spiritual one). These social gatherings were important to the fabric of Southern culture. For rural people, there weren’t really “neighbors” per se. But these opportunities helped to form society, even far from town.

The War and Reconstruction

I don’t really want to dwell on the increasingly nasty debate pertaining to the real causes of the War Between the States. I want to look at the outcomes – and not the ones talked about a lot today.

Primarily, the industrial model of society met the agrarian model on the battlefield. The industrial model was victorious. During the four years that the South had no representation in Washington, all the rules were changed. The South reentered the union to face an industrial economy – one that favored factories and merchants over farmers

Almost immediately, Northern businessmen began to buy the farms of Southerners that had no means of affording them. These farms were often consolidated into large operations that supported industry.

These former farmers began to form a workforce of cheap labor that Northern industrialists were more than happy to exploit. Soon factories, especially cotton mills, began to spring up all over the South. Small farms began a steady decline that eventually led to their practical extinction.

Cities began to really develop. Atlanta, Birmingham, Nashville – places that were really small towns by northern standards, if they existed at all, began to develop as industrial centers. Smog. Sludge. Slag.

Over the years cities gave birth to suburbs, highways, strip malls (sounds a lot like “strip mine”, doesn’t it?) and every other generic, cookie cutter idea of development known to man.

Blah.

In recent years there have been movements that suggest certain reforms are needed. People talk about carbon footprints, sustainable products and organic food grown within 100 miles of the consumption location, ecological awareness and sensitivity.

Basically, they want us to be like the Old South. Each and every topic discussed was something that was born in the Dixie of old. They want us to go back – though I don’t think they realize it. Everything that Sherman burned, shot, stabbed or trampled - someone is crying, yearning and begging for right now.

So how do we get back?

The Challenge of the New South

We as Southerners need to lead the way back. But to do that, we have to go back ourselves. We have to learn that architecture is an art, that community is all of us and that agriculture can exist without industry but that industry without agriculture is just pollution created by the starving.

I love what Booker T. Washington said, “No race can prosper till it learns that there is as much dignity in tilling a field as in writing a poem.”

We need to make industry respect agriculture again. Before the war, a concept like Farm Aid was absurd. Farming was an honest living and successful farmers were among the wealthiest men in the nation. There is no shame in feeding our society. And take this thought with you as you ponder: The average age of a farmer in American is 57.

What are you going to be eating in 10 years?

So, what are our objectives?

I think first and foremost we have to create a friendly atmosphere for agriculture. We need young men and women to want to enter this field. We need to invest time and effort into organizations like the Future Farmers of America. We need kids to know that farming is important and that it is a viable profession – and we need those ideas to be true.

We need to remove the stigma that has become associated with the family farm. When people take the time and the effort to grow their own food, make their own clothes, live off the land in a way that is supported by the land they live on, they are not worthy of ridicule. I personally am not lining up to take on that lifestyle myself but we must allow people the right to live in a manner that is best for them. Let them do their thing.

We need to have a focus on our community. Let’s be willing to do business with our neighbors. Let’s allow our schools, houses of worship, civic organizations, businesses and families to work together to form a social network in which we can live, do business and raise our children.

Our diversity is a strength. Many of our communities might be built on ethnic, religious or cultural similarities. If that is the case they may look less diverse than communities based on other similarities. But each community will depend on the others around it. We can’t get bogged down in forcing communities. Let them form as they will. They have to be organic to be healthy.

We need to build beauty in our communities. The natural world is beautiful and that needs to be fostered and protected but we need spaces in our communities that inspire people. Places that make them feel good to be in. The old Southern homes, schools, main streets, town squares – all of it – were typically visually pleasing spaces. There was craftsmanship in the construction. The architecture was an art, not just a structure. We need that again, if for nothing else but our own sanity.

 

So I ask you:

 

What is the carbon footprint of a cotton field?

 

Is community fostered more in a picturesque downtown area or in a generic strip mall?

 

If I need to eat food from within 100 miles at home, what can I practically grow in the 100’ space off my back porch?

 

Do I care enough about my community to do business with my neighbors?

 

Does diversity make us stronger?

 

I think as we seek out the answers to these and other questions, we can find solutions to our problems if we are just willing to take a look backwards and to our South.

Connect

I've been thinking about my writing. I've been thinking about history - not that is anything new.

But I've been thinking about people. Not half-crazed history nerds sitting on a stone wall in an old cemetery drinking a milkshake and reading a book about the guy buried in the plot next to him. I mean normal people. The kind of folks that get up in the morning, go to work, come home, eat supper, watch some TV, take a shower and go to bed. I realize that much of my activities are odd to normal folks. But I think that something about what I do resonates with people. 

Stick with me on this one.

I have spent my life immersed in history. Books, papers, tests, essays, microfiche, websites, professors, battlefields, museums, cemeteries. I've done it all. It's actually fun for me. But the normal person is not wired that way. Joe the rag man doesn't want to write, or read, a ten page annotated thesis on the similarities of Alex Stephens' "Cornerstone Speech" and the remarks of Abraham Lincoln during the fourth debate with Stephen Douglas at Charleston, IL in September, 1858. 

But those similarities are important. So is the rest of history. People need to know.

I'll make the statement, "people want to know". But they're afraid to attend a lecture. They hate writing papers and sure don't want to take any tests.

But here's what writing this blog has taught me. The four biggest entries (measured by page hits) include a tradition of hanging a star between the smokestacks of an old cotton mill, an ice cold glass bottle of coke in an old country store, my wife's entry about family recipes and the untimely death of a true hero..

People want history to matter. They want to see it, touch it, taste it, remember it. We need new ways to help them experience it - ways that they can connect with.

I want to further explore some of the ways people are doing that.  I'm excited to see what the folks at Oakland Cemetery in Atlanta are doing - from a Victorian festival to their "Run Like Hell" 5K. But that is just one example.

Long way around saying there's more history, nostalgia and culture to come...

A Star on the Rise...Again.

Cotton.

For years it was a way of life in this area. It was planted, harvested, baled, sold, shipped and even processed in this area.

Not far from where I'm sitting is a community. 125 years ago it was nothing but farmland. An old grist mill was the only hint of industry for miles.

One of the smokestacks standing tall.

Just before the turn of the century the Massachusetts Cotton Company bought the land and built a mill. In those days a mill meant a factory and a village - houses, a school, stores, churches, a doctor's office - it meant community. And that is what Lindale became.

For over a century life revolved around the mill. The whistle marked time as each generation relieved the next. And each generation passed down traditions to the next.

Mr. Bryant installing the pulleys Nov. 28, 1931

One such tradition began during the Great Depression. Like most places, Lindale was hit hard. In the depths of this time a star rose...quite literally. Mill employees built a 11'x11', 400 pound star adorned with 160 electrical lights, 80 on each side. They went out and secured the necessary rigging and hoisted their creation into the sky between the tall smokestacks that stood over the boiler house. The star was built to be large and bright enough to be seen by everyone in the village. It was meant to give the community hope and bring everyone closer together. 

It worked.

For 70 years mill workers hoisted the star into place every December. Men who grew up in the village spending childhood Christmases in the glow of the star took the task from their fathers as the reigns were passed from generation to generation. The star was as sure and as longed for as ol' St. Nick. The mill changed hands many times but the star was constant.

But times change. In September 2001, the Lindale Mill was shuttered. The massive brick complex fell silent and the community began to prepare for the worst.

In 2006, the mill changed hands again and the ropes for hanging the star were cut. The tradition was dead.

But that's not how this story was meant to end. 

A group called Arimathea Holdings, LLC purchased the mill. Much of the complex had been neglected and abused. Some remaining structures had to be demolished. But much of the space was saved and businesses were found to lease some of the space. The boiler house and the iconic smokestacks are still standing. The new owners expressed a desire to preserve the remaining parts of the mill and for it to be available for the community. 

Enter Restoration Lindale. This community group has mobilized in amazing ways. They've restored the old mill pond. Hauled off dozens of dump truck loads of debris and brush, they've cleaned gutters, planted trees, reintroduced ducks to the pond, hung flags for holidays and so much more. They've done it with their own time and money.

And this Christmas, they're going to hang a star between the smokestacks at the old mill. 

The star being raised.

The idea is for it to be big enough for everyone in the village to see it. They hope it will inspire hope and bring the community closer together. Something tells me it's going to work. 

But maybe that's just the historian inside me.

Arimathea Holdings LLC has already made generous donations and concessions to make this happen. Restoration Lindale is planning on "selling" the 160 light bulbs to help raise money to continue their efforts to restore their community. A $25 donation will let you honor a family member or friend that worked at the mill with their own light in the star. I plan to be one of those donors in memory of W. A. Carver, my great uncle, who spent decades working in the mill and playing his guitar on the front porch of the house he bought from the mill (unless my cousin beats me to it - in which case I'll let her take that honor.)

If you wish to help with any of the clean up days sponsored by Restoration Lindale, find them on Facebook. Their website can be found at: http://restorelindale.org 

Donations can also be made to the following address:

Restoration Lindale Inc

534 Reeceburg Rd.

Silver Creek, Ga. 30173

Falls

The stunning drop of Amicalola

Tucked here in the mountains of North Georgia are some of the most beautiful waterfalls you could ever wish to see. The mountain streams carry the runoff of the rains and the rocks give each tiny droplet an encouraging nudge, sending it on its long journey to the Atlantic or the Gulf.

One such place is in Dawson County. Amicalola Falls drops 729 feet to the rocks on the bottom. Surrounded by a state park with miles of hiking trails, cottages, a lodge, picnic shelters and, of course, the highest waterfall in Georgia.

It's all open right now and, if the past is any indication, quite busy with folks enjoying the fall weather.

Me and some of my trusted researchers at Anna Ruby Falls

Down the highway a spell you'll find a shorter, but no less impressive, set of falls. Anna Ruby Falls (not to be confused with the subterranean version that you can "see" in Chattanooga) is the confluence of Curtis and York Creeks as the form Smith Creek somewhere on the way down. 

You enter through Unicoi State Park and then pass through the gate into the Chattahoochee National Forest. There's a parking area, a nature trail, a mock up of an old moonshine outfit and a small visitor center.

And it's all locked up tighter than a drum.(But Unicoi is open)

While our legislature and governor in Atlanta might not be perfect, they are open. So are the governments in each of the other 49 (not 56) states. Composed of a total of roughly 7500 state legislators and 50 governors, every last state has a functioning government. 

But in all of those 50 states, waterfalls, monuments, historic home places, battlefields, museums and mountains are closed. Locked up. Sorry about your luck.

Without getting into how much of the closure is warranted and how much of it is a temper tantrum by a President suffering from acute Washington Monument Syndrome (look that one up) I really want to express my disappointment in the inability of the property owners to access public property because Washington can't get it together. 

But I'm proud that the states are all operating. From conservative Texas to socialist Vermont, they're all open.

Here's my idea. Let's contact our representatives. No, not those turkeys in Washington. They quit listening back somewhere around the Jackson administration. Get in touch with your state folks and thank them for being open. Encourage them to investigate the possibilities of adopting some of these federal sites from their unfit stewards. 

Our people rely on these sites and the people that visit them to support their businesses and livelihoods. We need these places to preserve the stories of our history, our culture and our land. And we need to access them to learn, teach and remember.

Before anyone suggests that the states can't afford such a burden, the National Park Service is 1/16 of 1% of the federal budget. When they actually bother to pass one. The states are paying for them anyway and all of them are suffering from the loss of tourism dollars due to closed parks. 

Let's trust our parks to the people that can manage to keep them open.