Name Brand

Christmas shopping.

My wife and I have made a tradition of it. Every year we shun all other adult responsibilities and and wander off into retail utopia in search of a completed shopping list, all in the course of one school day. To be honest, we never quite complete it all in that one day but we do get time together, a quiet lunch for two and at least most of our list complete. And no crowds. That's my kind of Christmas shopping.

This year I had a bit of an epiphany. My youngest son, the naturalist, for exclusively academic reasons, has decided that he is a University of Florida Fightin' Gator. He might be the only 10 year old in this town that has not only chosen a school and a field of study, but has also paid a campus visit to the specific department building in which he plans to complete his coursework. Gators or no Gators, I'm going to feed that passion, I'm going to support this dream, just like any sane father would.

So we were looking for Gator gear. A shirt, a bag, pair of socks, disposable Bic lighter, something, anything with the colors and logo. Not easy to come by in Georgia. Sports stores. Four of them. The biggest had up and down escalators as well as an elevator but no men's room and, more importantly, no Gator stuff. But a few things this establishment, and the other three as well, had - Under Armour, Nike, Adidas. Hoodies. Hats. Pants. Shoes. Shirts. Looking over 2/3 of the sales floor it was easy to see that in every color combination imaginable, every active wear garment known to the free world was on display for purchase.

There was obviously Georgia apparel, as there should be, back in the corner. A few Tech items, Falcons, Braves, even a Georgia Southern hoodie. But it was all stuffed in a back corner accessible only by negotiating the trails through the merchandise emblazoned with brand logos.

I thought about what the team logos stand for. Georgia fans know the traditions that go with being a fan. Earning the right to walk through the arch, ringing the victory bell. Auburn fans roll Toomer's Corner. Arkansas fans call the Hawgs. Jax State fans get goosebumps when we hear Salvation and know where the references to troy fit in when the band plays Dixie.

The teams represent ideas, philosophies and for those of us that attended one of the schools, it represents some of the best years of our lives. Jax State Football means something to me because I've got sweat equity in it. It matters because I have hours on the books. It matters because I know my pertinent fields can be found on the 3rd and 4th floors of the Houston Cole Library and my professors were over the hill in Stone Center. It matters because I watched the Olympics on the big screen in The Roost while eating chicken fingers. It matters because I walked to Subway on cold evenings with a friend because that's what irrational college kids do, It's where I learned to drive a manual transmission and what good music was.

That UA or "Swoosh" or whatever means I paid too much to have the same brand as the kid next to me in health class. All I have invested in it is the $60 I gave the cashier. No one puked in a car. No one fell in a camp fire. No one sat in a place called "Restaurant" eating pancake sandwiches at three in the morning or took the Springfield, Missouri city bus for two hours to eat at Steak n Shake. Not one soul hollered "whup troy!"

So my question is, why does it matter to us? What is the magic a disconnected brand name mega company logo holds over us? This isn't capitalism, it isn't conservatism, it's consumerism. We're pushing our identity, our past, our great memories into a back corner of a store so that we can purchase someone else's dream across the front of a sweatshirt.

I'd rather buy my son his own dream on the front of his sweatshirt. Gators or no Gators.

The Unstung Hero

Having recently survived encounters with local wildlife, I feel compelled to share a few important points (no pun intended) to introduce those who may be uninformed to the variety of flying stingy type insects that are known to inhabit Georgia and the surrounding region.

First I give you the dirt dauber. These insects build pipe organ type structures where they feed spiders to their larvae and build more structures for more larvae and spiders and on and on. A serious insect scientist could share with you the myriad reasons that these bugs are beneficial. We always liked them because they looked like wasps but won't sting you. The only real detriment they pose is their occasional poor choice of structure locations. Like on the brickwork above my front door. And of course the nasty looking grub-like larvae that fall out when you remove the structures.

Other then that, they're harmless.

The hornet. Also known as the harnet (rhymes with garnet). Much maligned as vicious and dangerous, my experience with these bugs is that they are really hermits and so long as you don't go messing with them, they'll stay in their remote fortresses and do whatever it is that they do in their little paper cone.

The cone thing is the problem. Many a Jim Bob sees the mighty funnel and wishes to make it his own, which breaks the unwritten law of the hornet, "Leave them alone". Once you break this law, you are indeed on your own and the hornets will do with you what they wish. So, just let them bee...er...be.

The wasp. Also known as the warst. Ok, these are a bit meaner than the dirt dauber and maybe not quite as mean as the hornet but they tend to come a bit closer to civilization than their paper cone cousins. A stray baseball or maybe a misguided stream from a Super Soaker water gun might dislodge a few that come to seek you out. But, for the most part, they are the grouchy old men of the group. They don't want goof balls playing around their porch but they aren't very motivated to chase interlopers very far. Just run a bit and you will be ok.

The honey bee. My personal favorite of this bunch. They make honey and besides being tasty on biscuits or cornbread or in your morning coffee, raw honey is a natural remedy for seasonal allergies.

Honeybees pollinate everything. and they are incredibly busy. they don't have time to be bothered by you and you really have to freak one out to get stung. Let them work because I don't want to sneeze and you don't want to get stung.

Then there is this poor twisted soul. The casual glance says honey bee. The first close up might communicate wasp or hornet. This however is wrath incarnate. This is the yellow jacket. Georgia Tech chose this little booger to be it's mascot because both these animals and the GT football team tend to be bad this time of year. (thank you, I'll be here all week).

The yellow jacket lives where it wants to. Because forget you, that's why. If you venture anywhere near their abode, even for something so benign as to offer them chocolate cake or invite them to a dinner party, they will spring from their little portal of punishment by the millions and unleash havoc on everything in a 1 square mile radius.

Oh you can escape. But you'll go inside, enjoy dinner, read to your children, get a good night sleep, wake, shower, eat breakfast, shave, brush your teeth, kiss your spouse good bye and once you go outside, there they are. "Remember us? We've been waiting for you all night." and BAM! the violence continues.

Legend has it that if you kill one, its dead body emits a pheromone that tells its friends, "hey that dude in the red shirt just killed me" and then 5 or 10 will appear seeking a reckoning for what you have done. And there's more of them than there are of you. So run. Faster.

So there's a few tips for surviving encounters with flying insect in Georgia. Keep an eye out and you'll be fine.

Mounds of Farming.

To continue on a on the farming theme I thought I'd share some more about the history of Agriculture in Georgia. This idea was helped along by a recent field trip to the Etowah Mounds State Historic Site in Cartersville, Georgia. The video at right is of one of the rangers on site giving information regarding the Three Sisters of Mississippian Era agriculture. 

Corn. Squash. Beans. With these three crops, these people developed a broad menu of foods. 

Agriculture was a way of life in the South long before the arrival of European settlers. This particular community was populated by farmers as early as 1000 A.D. (over 50 years before the Norman Conquest of England) and perhaps even earlier. These "primitive" farmers had learned the value of crop rotation, or at least the benefits one crop can have for another. It would be centuries before the settlers learned some of these ideas. 

So this culture domesticated dogs and turkeys in addition to their three sisters. They gathered nuts and berries from the fields and forests nearby. They caught fish from the river and hunted the wildlife that lived in the area. They wasted nothing, having a use for everything they killed, grew and gathered.

At left you'll find a demonstration of the weapons advances they made in order to feed themselves and their families. With the use of fishing, hunting, gathering, and agriculture, these people formed a civilization that survived for about 500 years at this location. To this day, their artifacts are still being found in the ground. To this day, their mounds and fish traps still remain as visible remnants of their society. Structures that date back ten centuries. 

That's not bad when you figure practically no structure in Atlanta is over 150 years old.

Long story short, this is our heritage. A wise and diverse use of the land. A sustainable and interactive form of agriculture that we can still learn from today.

It's our past. But it's about our future. And with so many other troubles mounting against farmers, they're not getting any younger. You can't eat a legal writ. You can't eat a bank note. And, as important as health care may seem, if you don't have food to eat, a doctor can't help you.

Educate yourselves about farming. Ask a farmer about the challenges of the job and life in general. Make this an election year issue. Let's put emphasis back on the agrarian heritage of our region. 

No more canned peaches from China.

Farm

My first job out of college was with a corporation with a household name. The position was dealing with higher end food service. It was the type of operation that used chefs and "quality" ingredients. A higher priced operation with some fairly exclusive clientele.

My coworkers were from all over the world. They had left the far reaches of the Earth and worked in other far reaches before this particular stop in the shadows of Atlanta's skyscrapers. 

These folks knew good food.

So it caught my attention when I heard one of them comment, "why are we using canned peaches? Isn't this Georgia?"

Peaches weren't out of season. Some of the finest peach orchards in the world were an hour and a half down I-75. And we were using canned peaches. They might even have been from China.

The previous summer I had visited Atlanta. I was in Centennial Olympic Park with a couple thousand people from all over the world. One thing that sticks out in my mind was an exhibit to tell these visitors our story - to introduce us to them. It proclaimed "The South is Agriculture". 

It's true. If you can eat it, wear it, smoke it, chew it, turn it into fuel and burn it, we'll try to make it spring from the ground. Agriculture is such a big deal that parts of our agriculture depend on other parts of our agriculture.

And we eat canned peaches from China.

Georgia specifically: we grow peaches, pecans, peanuts, apples, native grapes (muscadine, etc.), Vidalia onions, cotton, corn, soybeans. We raise poultry, beef, pork. And more.

And we eat canned peaches from China. 

Earlier I read a Twitter tirade straight out of Tattnall County. It inspired this post. There's a man down there, a Chicken Hippie, if you will. He has this crazy notion that Georgia dirt, fresh Georgia air, and Georgia sunshine will produce quality, tasty, nutritious chicken, duck, quail, & turkey. No crowded chicken houses. (You can find him on Twitter at @GApasturedbirds and on Instagram at grassrootsfarmsga.)

Next time you pass a chicken truck on the highway, take a look at the cargo and see if you agree with him.

Admittedly, I don't buy birds from him. Not right now. He makes his birds available through a distributor and restaurants can offer customers sustainable, locally-grown, pasture-raised poultry. And then they can switch back to Holly Farms and not tell you any different.

Thus the tirade.

Listen to me. This isn't about being a foodie. It isn't about being a hipster. It's about being a Southerner. It's about English settlers founding Georgia on agriculture in 1734. It's about Native American tribes sustaining themselves on this red clay on agriculture seven centuries before the English came.

It's about Georgians not eating canned peaches from China.

And it's about not wondering how a small farmer in South Georgia is selling poultry to restaurants in Atlanta and beginning to wonder why such products aren't widespread in our grocery stores. Why do we settle for less just because it costs a little less?

And Grassroots isn't the only farm like this out there. I know several people raising cattle & crops the old ways. You'll find them if you look. 

There's more on this topic but it will have to wait for another time.

Until then...

Road Trip 2013 Finale

As I mentioned in the previous post, the last day of the trick hit a glitch. The original plan was to slip across the Chattahoochee River into neighboring Alabama and explore the history of Booker T. Washington, George Washington Carver and The Tuskegee Airmen. However, the Federal Government in Washington is caught in a struggle between spending on Republican pet projects and President Obama's insatiable desire for incessant government growth. So they created a sequester. And instead of cutting subsidies for corporations or the chronically lazy, the sequester closed these two learning opportunities to us on Sunday.

Faced with such an obstacle we did what any football fans would do. "CHECK TWO, CHECK TWO!!! SET, HUT!!!!"

We called an audible. Take that, Washington.

Ironically, we took the opportunity to learn about one of the champions of government spending. A man named Franklin Delano Roosevelt.



Callaway Overlook

 Let me say that the ride from Columbus to Warm Springs is even better than Cordele to Columbus. We made a stop at the overlook at the Callaway Country Store. Breathtaking. The morning was cool and the mist clung to the mountains and the stillness of the Georgia morning was pure peace. There was no way this was July.

Easing up the road, we took in even more views at F.D. Roosevelt State Park. The visitor's center is a beautiful stone structure built by one of the groups created by Roosevelt's "New Deal". There are miles of hiking trails, a swimming pool, camping sites, cottages to rent - many outdoor opportunities. The park is beautiful. My favorite part was the stunning view

Roosevelt's grill at Dowdell's Knob

at Dowdell's Knob, Roosevelt's personal picnic spot when he was in Georgia. His stone grill is still sitting on the perch atop Pine Mountain. In this setting, he used table linen and real china to dine on many a glorious Georgia afternoon. Standing in that spot, Roosevelt the politician began to take a side role and Roosevelt the man stepped forward. This was a moment that I needed to prepare me for the next stop.

Warm Springs remains a quaint Southern town, much like FDR found it after he was stricken with polio. Touring the museum at the Little White House showed a side of Roosevelt I had never seen before. This was the man that my grandmother's generation revered well into this century - people who voted for Democrats no matter what and Republicans never at all - not because of anything either candidate in any given election said or did but because The Democratic Party was the Party of Roosevelt. I saw that Roosevelt's policies, while misguided and unconstitutional, were

Roosevelt's Ford

brought on by a genuine concern for people that were struggling through the Great Depression. Seeing him stopping to talk to Georgia farmers about their crops, their prices, their hopes and their needs really impressed me. Learning that this governor from New York chose to announce his candidacy, not in the Empire State but in a small town in the western woods of the Empire State of the South took me aback. And then seeing him swimming and playing in the pools in town with children that knew polio's scourge...that showed me his humanity.

This was not a ploy. I've seen ploys out of most of his successors - especially the current one. What Roosevelt did went far beyond what would be needed to secure Georgia's electoral votes. The vulnerability involved in a man trying to hide a disability swimming in a pool with disabled children who could not help but notice one major thing they all had in common outpaced any ploy.

The Chair FDR was using for the portrait

The house. Wow. It's not imposing. It's not elaborate. In fact, there are two small houses out front so that his butler, maid and visiting dignitaries would have a place to sleep. The main house had only three small bedrooms - one for FDR, one for his secretary and one for Eleanor, who rarely visited. This bedroom was often used by the Roosevelt children who visited their father in Warm Springs. The small shacks along the perimeter offered shelter to the company of Marines that kept the home secure during the president's visits. The house sits as it did the day Roosevelt died, shortly after collapsing while sitting for a portrait in the living room.

Through the museum and the house, my 9-year-old son completed the scavenger hunt that is available in the visitor's center. It really helped him learn about the site and the people involved in the history there. It was a high point for him as he really enjoyed looking for the answers to each clue. It's a must for the youngsters.

Jackson playing "Goin' Home" - Life Magazine

After the house tour, the path leads to a one last exhibit - the Legacy Exhibit Hall. There you can see the text of the Jefferson Day speech FDR was scheduled to deliver the day after he died. Many items related to fundraising for the war effort are also on display. The emotional photo of Graham W. Jackson playing "Goin' Home" on the accordion as the train carrying the president's body departed Warm Springs is hanging on the wall and the song is playing softly over the speakers in the ceiling. But the most touching exhibit in the hall is the unfinished portrait - the very painting Elizabeth Shoumatoff was working on when FDR collapsed. The face on the canvas reveals a tired man. One whose personal

Elizabeth Shoumatoff's Unfinished Portrait

illnesses, the stress of leading a nation through a depression and a world war and who knows what other stress had worn down. The once strong and athletic man was now tired, compassionate, visionary and hopeful, but tired. And in that moment my strong Antifederalist/Libertarian heart ached for the father of humongous government - not because I longed for his form of government but because I had connected with him as a man and I saw in his eyes the feeling that I could not help but have compassion for.

We left the museum and headed down the hill into town to tour the pools, which are included in the price of museum admission. My feelings there were mixed. The overall feeling is sad. The ramps and equipment communicate the terrible entity that made such a place necessary. But there was a happiness in knowing that such a place was available. The pools aren't in use any longer. They are filled once a year for a special event that is likely nearing the end of its run. Visitors can walk down the ramps into the pools and rinse their hands in the springs, which we did.

The pools at Warm Springs

Overall, the pools were a sad place for the journey to end. So many events and sights would have been more fitting as a finale for such a great trip. But I'm glad that we experienced this place. The pools have been replaced by a more modern treatment and rehab hospital next door where the work continues of alleviating the pains of disabled people and working toward cures for the illnesses at the root of the issue. So, even in the somber moment, all things considered, there is hope in Warm Springs. I highly recommend a visit, even if...no especially if you do not agree with Roosevelt's policies. Allow yourself the opportunity to hear the stories, to see the evidence, to connect with FDR as a man.

And so we covered a wide range of history, from the earliest people to settle in what is now Georgia through major wars, agricultural advancements, treatment of disease, all the way up to the ongoing work of a living former president. We travelled over 1000 miles through 29 counties. We visited sites for three presidents from two different American nations. We saw a rat scurry out of a engine compartment of a car. We brushed gnats out of our faces. We kept pretty close quarters. We survived and grew together as a family.

And that last fact, of course, was the reason for it all.

Day 4



 Time to change base of operations.

Cordele served us well for the southernmost legs of the trip but on Day 4 our adventures began to lean us back in the direction of the Appalachian foothills, albeit gradually.

That being said, there is a lot of nothing between Cordele and Columbus. We passed through a few small towns but mostly it was farms, fields, trees and nothing. It was inconceivably glorious. It was "see antonyms under 'Atlanta'". It was so much more green, rural and natural than our lovely corner of the state. And the only reason anyone would ever take that route would be to do a road trip such as this.

Therefore, you have to try it.

CSS Jackson

Ah, Columbus....I wasn't joining the Army. Neither was my wife. Nor any of the boys. Contrary to popular belief there is more in Columbus than the fort. So we found the National Civil War Naval Museum at Port Columbus. It was directly across the street from a cemetery...but it looked a little new for my taste and the temptation waned.

Now, the Naval Museum is nice. Very impressive exhibits. The full-scale representation of USS Water Witch, the remnants of the CSS Chattahoochee, the much more substantial remnants of the CSS Jackson, partial replicas of the USS Monitor, USS Hartford and CSS Albemarle anchor the  

The amazing Flag Collection

museum. Exhibits of uniforms, small arms and demonstrations of the delicate methods of preserving artifacts recovered from marine environments are found everywhere in between. And they have one of the most impressive flag collections of any museum I've toured. It took all morning to complete the phone tour offered by the museum. There is that much to see.

Now for some lunch.

In historic downtown there is a place called Picasso's Pizza and you do want to eat there. We walked in the door, saw the three booths and about nine bar stools. About half the place was filled with young men in US Army standard issue. "This is the place". We sat down in the vacant booth and that is when I noticed the outdoor seating area out the side door. The wobbly table confirmed my suspicions. The pizza is delicious, the staff is friendly and you will not leave hungry.

And then we headed to the fort. It's not the only thing in Columbus but it is substantial.

The main attraction there is the National Infantry Museum and Soldier Center. For a $5 per person recommended donation you can see a world-class museum. It is recommended by museum staff (and by the research team at All the Biscuits in Georgia) that you begin your tour with "The Last 100 Yards Ramp" - quite possibly the finest museum exhibit I've ever seen anywhere. The history of American Infantry soldiers is recalled through the battles of Yorktown, Antietam, Soissons, Normandy, Corregidor, Soam-Ni, LZ-XRAY and Iraq. The figures are incredibly realistic and the action is almost frightening, considering

you are right in the middle of it. The music and sound effects draw you in emotionally and you realize what all soldiers have done over the past 238 years. Stunning isn't quite strong enough of a word to describe it. The details all come together and you can feel like you are a part of what's going on - like a bystaander caught in the action. From looking down the barrel of a Confederate rifle to seeing footage of Normandy projected into the open canopy above an Airborne soldier to the looks on the faces of the soldiers themselves. It is very moving.

You come back down to enter exhibit areas dedicated to American wars throughout the history of the infantry. Weapons, tactics, letters home, spoils of war - the typical war museum stuff. But there is also the details. This is not a museum about generals and politicians. The experiences displayed are those of the soldiers and you get to understand the wars from their points of view.

In short, if you are in Columbus, check this one out.

The next stop is an audible. Washington D.C. intervened on our original plans. True to form, we told them they were "#1" and had fun any way....

...until next time

Day 3

Day 3 of the road trip found us headed south on 75 from Cordele en route to the furthest southern point on the trip. Tifton.

The Cravey House, built in Inaha, Georgia and moved the Tifton

The destination in Tifton was the Georgia Museum of Agriculture on the campus of Abraham Baldwin Agricultural College. This museum has both indoor and outdoor facilities that tell of Georgia's agricultural past and the cultivation, harvesting and marketing of the major cash crops of the region - cotton, tobacco, timber and turpentine. These stories are told through historic interpreters in various settings including a doctor's office, a blacksmith's forge, a cotton gin, a print shop, the Victorian home of a wealthy man and farms from different eras of Georgia's past.



The Tift House

I was quite impressed with the feisty lady that gave us the tour of the Tift Home, the Victorian mansion of the man for whom Tifton is named. The preserved home is an excellent example of what I call "they don't make things like that any more." The house itself is a work of art. The original furnishings and decor make the home a museum unto itself. I'd have to admit that my favorite part is the lone closet in the house - covered, as it always has been, by a curtain to avoid paying the taxes on the additional door. Sounds like Mr. Tift was a man after my own heart.

And so we learned about forging farm tools, printing newspapers, ginning and baling cotton, raising livestock and crops and making turpentine. That was life in South Georgia around the turn of the last century. It was simpler and yet more complicated leaving me wondering where the tipping point of good thing/bad thing in that scenario is. The work was hard and the comfort level was much lower than we are accustomed to but a lot of the hustle and bustle (i.e. TRAFFIC) was non-existent

The trip back to Cordele carried us through Irwinville to visit one of my disappointments of the trip. In 1865 Jefferson Davis was fleeing to the west to wage a guerrilla war against the occupiers of the South in hopes that Southern Independence could still be a reality. (Incidentally, it was about this same time that Alexander H. Stephens - all 100 pounds of him - was sitting in his parlor at home playing cards when the Union /Army knocked on his door.He asked to see their arrest warrant and then replied, "If y'all had let me know you wanted me I'd have saved you the trip all the way out here. Let's go". But that's another story for another day.)

The Jeff Davis Memorial Marker

Davis met for one last time with his cabinet in Washington, GA and then they went their separate ways. Two units of the Union Army pursued him to a campsite just outside the minuscule town of Irwinville. The adept military professionals actually shot at each other for a spell before they realized that they were on the same team. Davis, realizing the Yankees were on his tail, beat a hasty retreat. But it was too late. And there in a pine thicket in the dead of night the 16th President (from Georgia's perspective) became a prisoner of war.

Some years later, the State of Georgia dedicated a monument and state historic site on the location. A few years ago the operation was turned over to Irwin County. The building is headed toward disrepair, the grounds show signs of neglect. It is a testament to the event it commemorates. The economic system established in the absence of the Southern delegates to Congress does not make for wealthy farmers. Money is for bankers, industrialists and railroad tycoons. Farmers can have money when they get real jobs - like working in a bank, factory or maybe on the railroad. So money is not plentiful in Irwin County. And let's face it, a county full of farmers, service industry workers catering to farmers and the handful of rangers that work at the site just do not have the resources to appropriately maintain such a site.

I'm not sure what led Georgia to the decision to jettison this park. It has added several newer, more elaborate parks in various locations since discarding the Jeff Davis site, so it doesn't appear to be budget related. The site is not far from the interstate so it doesn't appear to be logistical. That brings me to the fact that rural South Georgia gets the short end of the stick from the state on a regular basis and the ever growing evil of political correctness that is constantly trying to sweep clean any remnant of the South's past.

Davis would be held in terrible conditions for two years. During that time he received encouraging gifts from Pope Pius IX, his legal representation was the former governor of Maryland. His official charge was treason but he would never stand trial as the Union knew there was no hope of conviction as he had committed no crimes. He was released on bond which was posted in part by Horace Greely, Cornelius Vanderbilt and Gerrit Smith.

Yankees helped post his bond and Georgia hung his park out to dry. What a shame.

I'll say this before leaving the topic of the politically correct assassination of Southern History - "Remove not the ancient landmark, which thy fathers have set." - Proverbs 22:28.

This verse may or may not be talking about such landmarks but the tone is explicit. Don't destroy memorials. They point to where we came from and therefore teach us where we are and where we are headed. Only an ignorant man would be offended by such a memorial.

All in all, day 3 was a great educational outing filled with the stories of Georgia's identity. It taught us about the work ethic, the ingenuity, the grit that it took to survive in the Georgia of 100 years ago. We learned a little about where we came from and who we are.

That's two presidents for those who are counting....

Day 2 (Part 2)

Well, that was depressing.

Allow me to say that sharing that morning with my family was meaningful and I did enjoy the visit. It's a great memorial to all our POWs.

And then came afternoon...

Time for some more honesty.

I've never been a fan of Jimmy Carter. I remember the excitement following his defeat by Ronald Reagan. The political opinions, comments and speeches he's given since being president have caused more than one eye roll. There has always been at least a little shame knowing that he was from Georgia.

I was not excited about going to Plains.

But it seemed like an important Georgia thing to do and we were on a South Georgia road trip. So I pointed us through Americus, past the global headquarters of Habitat for Humanity and down the road through acres of peanuts, cotton and corn until I found myself pulling us into the Georgia Visitor Information Center, Plains - the only such facility not located on one of the state lines.

Display in the old Plains High School

Very friendly staff members were ready to help us know what to look for in the small town. First things first - we were given our complimentary peanuts. Then we were directed to the old high school (now a museum), the church the Carters attend, the campaign headquarters downtown and the boyhood farm. Then we were told where to look to see what is visible at his current home and she showed us a picture of it. "That's his house?" I asked looking at the single story home. "That's it", she explained, "That's the house he and Rosalynn built in 1961. It's the only home they've ever owned."

That was where it started. From there we began touring the sites. The high school he and Rosalynn attended. That was where we learned that the Carters take their turn cutting the grass, vacuuming the floors and cleaning the toilets in their church. I'd heard about the Sunday School class he taught but seeing the video of him putting around the churchyard on an old Snapper somehow was different. The church the Carters attend is typical of the thousands of churches in thousands of small towns throughout the South. The boyhood farm is similar to so many others from that time period - including the one my grandfather grew up on in Mississippi. And the old railroad depot that was used for his campaign headquarters - chosen because it was the only available building in town with a bathroom - is about as "small town" as you can get.

So here's some of the things I learned that were new to me:

The Carter boyhood farm

The house, I mentioned that earlier. That really started it for me. But then we saw him giving the tour on video. He built the bed that he and Rosalynn sleep in. He also built their bookcases, much of Amy's furniture and he did the hardwood flooring in Amy's room.

He's a peanut farmer. I knew that but I saw photos and such that demonstrated that he wasn't just a landowner that had people farming for him. His peanuts are not a tax write-off. He planted them, grew them, picked them, washed them, shelled them and sold them. And he was running the family peanut company long before he ran for any office, which, incidentally, began with his local school board.

He grew up performing many chores on his family's farm. And even today, he eats vegetables and eggs that are produced on this small farm. The ranger we spoke to next to the windmill laughed that "you'd think by talking to him that he doesn't have two nickels to rub together."

He has worked with Habitat for Humanity and other groups, building homes, drilling wells, providing food and medical care, both in the US as well as in Africa. He isn't just sending money. He's slinging a hammer, using a hand saw, working like he has all his life - again, his story reminds me of my grandfathers. His security detail alone hints at the fact that this man was once the chief executive of the most powerful nation on Earth.

Downtown Plains as seen from the old depot.

Every account by every person, both in museum film interviews and by people we randomly encountered in town, attested to the fact that Jimmy Carter is no different than any other man in Plains. Well, except for the Secret Service thing

Those things had an impact on me. There are still so many policies and assertions that I just can't agree with but I now know where he came from, what his thought processes are and why he believes some of the things he believes. I walked away with an appreciation of Jimmy Carter. It left me wishing that more of our politicians were willing to live the way he lives and do some of the things he does. I wish they believed enough in their policies to work for them the way he has. I wish they remembered where they came from - or at least knew what it's like to try to make a living in a small town in the rural South.

Looking back, the day in Plains made me proud that Jimmy Carter is from Georgia, which was admittedly a first. It made me a little disappointed that we weren't there on one of the many occasions when he's walking downtown or sitting on on of the porches at the old farm reading a book or writing one of his poems while waiting for visitors to meet and greet. I'd have liked to shake his hand and let him know that I had seen some truth about him and maybe apologize for being as harsh as I have been at times.

But, the next best thing, I guess, is to sit here and type out this entry to tell whoever reads it that Jimmy Carter is a good man. He's not perfect and might do or say things you don't agree with but he's real. And if there's one thing this nation needs right now, it's men and women that are real.

And that was the story of an intellectually and emotionally challenging but very fun day. More to come...

Day 2 (Part 1)

I knew what awaited. I wasn't sure how I'd handle it but I knew it was there.

But first things first.

There's a certain satisfaction that comes from seeing where your food comes from. I have the utmost respect for farmers and seeing them at work was like viewing art being made.  

Watermelons. I'm not talking about a fruit stand. I'm not talking about a farmer's market. I'm talking about a 40 acre field where you can't see the ground for the watermelons. I'm talking about watermelons laying in the road like dead possums.

What do you do with that many watermelons? You cut the top off a school bus, pull out all the seats, stack the watermelons up to what would have been the bottoms of the windows and haul 'em off. A bus load of watermelons is a beautiful thing. A convoy of five such buses...I don't have the words...

And then there's just something about getting off the Interstate. You haven't really experienced Georgia until you've seen towns like Irwinville, DeSoto and Buena Vista. Many of these places have lost their luster. Some may have never had it. But if you really want to understand the South, you have to look in these places.

And such towns lead the way to the brick columns that I had been dreading, but knew I had to confront.

Andersonville.

Just hearing the word makes my stomach quiver just a little. Seeing this in person is a must...even if you don't study war...especially if you hate war.

One of the many exhibits in the museum.

The traditional visitor's center at Andersonville is anything but. This facility is the National POW Museum. It covers the history of American POWs from the Revolution  to the present. It serves as a witness to the cruelty of war and the way it impacts captives, captors and the families involved. While Andersonville is specifically covered, there are also accounts from Union prisons such as Rock Island, IL, where similar atrocities were carried out on the Confederates unlucky enough to find themselves there. There are also memorials from POW experiences from every other American war.

And then I walked outside. 

The POW Memorial Courtyard

A bas relief on brick and a bronze sculpture stands as a visual of the misery at Andersonville. A water feature symbolizes Sweetwater Creek, a name that almost evokes it own cruelty when it identifies the poison stream that eked its way through the middle of the camp.

The camp has much in common with the war. It seemed good at first - reports of plentiful food in the area, far from the fighting, railroad depot downtown and a creek that would be a source of clean water and wash away waste...until they built the stockade across it...on both sides.

And then it got worse. The blockade and the truth of the area's food supply began to send the

The view from the gate of the stockade.

situation downward. Then the Union realized that their superior numbers made cessation of prisoner exchanges to be to their advantage (this assessment is part of the official audio tour offered by the park and not just Southern propaganda) so they just stopped. The situation deteriorated further. A band of prisoners began terrorizing other prisoners. This bunch was eventually brought down with the help of other prisoners that had enough of their violence and thievery. The six "raiders", as they were called, were hung, 149 years, to the day, prior to our visit.

As food and medication became more scarce in the South, so went supplies in the camp. The guards consisted of men too old, too young or too sick to be on the lines trying to hold off Sherman's advance. And no matter how remorseful anyone felt about it, if there wasn't enough supplies for the citizens and soldiers in the area, there sure wasn't enough for enemy prisoners.

Wirz's view of the camp.

Sitting on the hill overlooking the camp was the man given charge of the place. Henry Wirz, the Swiss-born Confederate captain was witness to it all. Looking at the verdant field and the quiet creek in the midst, it is hard to imagine the din of over 30,000 human beings, some merely talking, others moaning or crying out. The residents of Americus, some ten miles away complained of the foul stench wafting from the camp - the smell of body odor and human waste festering in the Georgia summer.

The stones in the cemetery stand in memory to the horrors of the camp. The dead were buried shoulder-to-shoulder in trench graves. The Federal Government later placed stones over each prisoner using the meticulous records of the Confederate Surgeons Corps. And the number of stones - rows and rows of white stones - gives the eye perspective as to just how bad the situation got.

The Georgia Monument

I could explain that the Union had similar prisons - Rock Island, Camp Douglas, "Helmira", just to name a few. I could point out that the abundant supplies were withheld from those prisoners for spite and to be maliciously cruel. I could point out that at Camp Douglas that the dead were piled into a common hole and buried without the dignity of a grave. I could mention that, in spite of the northern camps, after the sham trial by military tribunal and a mis-tied knot that 250 paying spectators at Washington's Old Capitol Prison watched Wirz swing and writhe as he slowly suffocated while the crowd chanted "Remember Andersonville" - an event that is widely believed by historians and the National Parks Service to be the murder of a scapegoat.

And every bit of that is true. But none of that would change what happened at Andersonville. To try to deflect or deny what went on at Andersonville would not change one second of the tragedy that was the Confederate Military Prison at Camp Sumter. And to deny this place would be to insult the honor of the prisoners and custodians of this horrible place. Even as a Georgian and one that leans heavily toward the gray, I cannot look at such a place and not feel pity for the people imprisoned there. It was terrible, period.

What I took from it all was all the terror of war, crammed into a compact package. To think of lives lost, of irreversible damage from illness and disease, the images that a mind just never forgets and the horrible cruelty of it all, no matter what lengths are taken to prevent or alleviate it - war is a terrible tragedy. For all the glory we attach to it, it can never be made anything other than tragic, even when it is necessary. That being said, we should never enter in to it brashly or flippantly. Such cruelty must never be celebrated or enjoyed.

And so that brought us to midday and time for a change in venue. I'll pick up the afternoon section of this day in the next update. I promise that it will be a much happier entry....

Hit The Road!

It began simple enough. How my poor children ever reached their current ages without a meal at Waffle House, I'll never know. Our journey began with breakfast and the discussion of exciting plans.

The road was kind to us and the HOV lane helped us proceed through Atlanta relatively easily. They say the best thing to ever come out of Atlanta was I-75. 

We found the southbound version.

With great traffic and the skillful navigation of a great driver (me), good companionship from my family and perhaps a few tips from the Google map voice that lives in my phone we arrived at Ocmulgee National Monument.

It's places like Ocmulgee that get overlooked in the study of Southern History. And that's a shame because at the estimated date of 15,000 years ago people began to inhabit this location. The first bunch were nomadic people which simply means they were, like us, on a road trip. (Although theirs was at least marginally longer).

                                                                                                                                                    

The Earth Lodge

Somewhere in the centuries people settled down. And they lived off of agriculture, the industry of the South. You see, the South, from the very beginning depended on nature for survival. While Europe and the North were spewing carbon and other so-called "greenhouse gasses" into the atmosphere, the South was relying on plants, forests, rivers and the sun for survival. The people depended on these resources to be healthy and abundant in order to make any sort of living. Factories and pollution were imported later on and, now that we're dependent on it, are now demonized and regulated by the very folks that forced it upon us.

Make up your mind!

The Temple Mound

Back to the mounds. Seeing the work that it took to build such structures and the care and dedication it took to carry basket after basket of dirt to create such monuments really impressed me. The Earth Lodge with it's original floor, dated ca. 1000 AD is truly amazing. There is also a very good view of Downtown Macon from atop the Temple Mound. Throw in a good museum and an outstanding ranger and it made for a great morning.

We spent the afternoon 22 miles down the road at the Museum of Aviation in Warner Robins. If you are ever in that part of Georgia and have even the slightest interest in the history of the Air Force and/or Army Air Corps, stop in. The museum has excellent exhibits, including the living ones you'll find working in each hangar. Many of the volunteers manning the museum are veterans of the very aircraft on display and are ready to answer questions and give first hand accounts of history made with these machines.

Ok, time for a candid moment. During the tour, we happened upon a couple of gentlemen and a conversation ensued. At first it was great, lots of good information as one of the men was himself a vet that shared information of his experiences. However, there is a butt...er...but to this part of the story. The gentleman explained to us, after learning about our road trip plans, that he was from Pennsylvania and stressed his displeasure with "that stupid, stupid Civil War". He then progressed to deride the Confederate soldiers and to talk about what a terrible place Georgia is. In fact, it is so terrible that he chose to live in Dublin. Then he pulled out some story about what a great humanitarian Sherman was. He finished his speech with some of his disappointment with the direction that our country is going and blamed our central government for it. Really? I was laughing as I thought it inappropriate to cry in a hanger full of fighter planes. Oh how I wished to correct him, oh how I wished to sling a 30 minute soliloquy on him to point out that his beloved Sherman had forced that strong central government on us all at gunpoint and then invite him to return to Pennsylvania...but self-control got the better of me. I sat there with the words of the sage ringing in my ears - "It wastes your time and annoys the pig."

As the sun set on the first day of the Georgia trip, having seen the contributions of Native Americans from the Mississippians to the Creeks (Muscogee) and members of the Air Force, including the 332nd fighter group, "The Tuskegee Airmen", I was glad to have started to demonstrate the diversity of the people that made Georgia and the South great.

The first day didn't challenge my thinking the way the following days would. It wasn't very controversial. But it was quite enjoyable and laid the foundation for the days that followed. The next day would hold surprises I could not expect and tore at my heart in ways that I don't even think my family realized...

...but tomorrow is another day...

All the Biscuits in Georgia Road Trip!

We just have returned from what has become an annual tradition, the Georgia Road Trip. These adventures have carried us along the coast, up into the misty mountains and now along the fields and now through the fields and forests of South Georgia.

While family fun is the ultimate goal of these outings, the overall outcome is growth. We learn about our state, our history, our heritage, the world around us and, through all of these, we learn about ourselves. 

And so I bring the concepts of this most recent trip, the thoughts and ramblings of a man fresh off a close-quarter encounter with the love of his life and his offspring. Over the next few posts I'll be sharing what we learned. I promise that it will not be a generic slide show depicting "what I did on my summer vacation." It will be commentary on what it all means.

By request, I'll address some issues that came up in discussions before the trip but that were very pertinent to at least one stop along the way. I'll throw in my commentary about what much of the information means for us today. And, yes, I'll be including some pretty candid confessions about my experiences with a couple of chief executives that I didn't care much for.

So, stay tuned! In the course of over 500 miles driven, 15,000 years of history, at least a dozen wars, three branches of military service and three presidential administrations and 5 school bus loads of watermelons I came up with some interesting things to say. At least I find them interesting. 

Besides, it's not every day that you encounter 5 bus loads of watermelons...

Carrollton

By Sam Burnham

Took a quick morning trip this week. I've been a regular in that particular town for the last 16 years. I even summered there one year. But I had never really got out and explored it on my own.

A few quick thoughts on Carrollton, GA.

The plan was simple enough. A quick stop in Tallapoosa on personal business and then scoot over to Carrollton.

*Ok, side note* Tallapoosa is a beautifully quaint town. It's small and not overdeveloped so if you're looking for crowds or a lot of action, stay on the four lanes. But if you enjoy a slower pace and some beautiful old homes, Tallapoosa is a neat stop.

After following an empty pulpwood truck to Tallapoosa and finding my rendezvous closed on Wednesdays, I proceeded down Georgia Hwy 16 to Carrollton. The drive was much more pleasant than my usual route down US 27 and the sounds of Appalachian Spring via Georgia Public Broadcasting made it that much better.

I was able to make contact with my Tallapoosa business in Carrollton and then headed out to explore a little.

Brand new Little Free Library

First stop, Adamson Square. Beautifully restored, the square has plenty to offer in shopping and dining. Park benches, wide sidewalks and even a brand new Little Free Library make the area welcoming to visitors such as myself.

A word of caution. Should you visit this area, use caution in crosswalks. The traffic and pedestrian configuration is a bit confusing and I can see that it would not be hard to hit someone or be hit by someone while driving or walking.

Underground Books

Horton's Books & Gifts (410 Adamson Square) is reportedly the oldest bookstore in Georgia. There is much documentation to support this claim so I see no reason dispute it. It is a very nice shop with a respectable inventory of books, nice gifts (games, small decorative items, and other sundries) as well as access to the coffee shop next door. This is a new book vendor with a great atmosphere. They have been doing business in Carrollton since 1892, so they must be doing something right The resident cats are a nice touch...unless you're allergic, like me. But it's a nice place and definitely worth checking out.

I personally had better luck searching in Underground Books (102 Alabama St) which is tucked into a basement just off the main square. Used, antique & rare books are available and this is a buy-sell-trade sort of place. Upon my arrival, a staff member greeted me, let me know they were available and then left me alone to peruse the shelves - exactly what I want from a bookstore. They have a decent variety and the layout lets you walk through a room only to discover there are more books in the next room. Loved it.



Confederate Memorial

 Just off the square at the courthouse sits the Confederate Memorial Monument. The plaza has been renovated recently and the monument is well maintained, including the restoration of the concrete cannonballs that had been missing for some time. The stoic sentinel facing north is a standard in small towns throughout the South and this is an excellent specimen. Several churches and municipal buildings are located in this area. Pedestrian traffic is common and there are plenty of sidewalks.

Grave of a Confederado

A quick check in at the city cemetery (a usual stop for me when visiting a town) was pleasant. A lot of the town's history can be found there. I had received a tour booklet in pdf format from the Visitors and Convention Bureau (per my emailed request) and found it to be helpful. I found some of the monuments damaged, apparently more by time and elements rather than vandals. My stop in the cemetery was nice and I was excited to find the final resting place of a Confederado - not a common find. Overall, it's a nice place with lots of local history.

But the day was windy and an unmistakable aroma was riding the breeze. A good BBQ restaurant needs no advertisement. I followed my nose from the cemetery back over near the square and found Sam's House Memphis Style BBQ and Blues (108 Alabama St.). I laughed at the thought that the place "had my name on it" and stepped inside.

Be brave. You can handle it.

My waitress was friendly, the music wasn't live (at least not at lunch) but was very good just the same. The atmosphere is relaxing and is filled with images, aromas and sounds that reflect Memphis, BBQ and The Blues. The prices were reasonable for good food and that's exactly what I was served. The yellow bottle with the masking tape label reading "XXX" has some tasty stuff in it. Give it a try if you're brave enough. Although it didn't count on my lunch special, they do offer discounts for military and emergency responders. I'm always thankful for that and told them so. Oh, and the sweet tea is spot on.

All in all, it's a great little historic downtown. I collected this info just before lunch. Given a whole day, I'm sure there is much more to find. There's an Irish pub, a few more restaurants and stores and that is just the square. It's definitely worth checking into if you have plans anywhere near the area. Give it a try if you have a chance.