Veni Vidi Vici

It's true, what it says in the title.  We came to the South, we saw the South, and we conquered the South.  At the same time, the South conquered us.

A week ago at this time, my traveling companions and I settled into our room at the Embassy Suites in Atlanta.  We saw history (Atlanta History Center, Margaret Mitchell's house, Oakland Cemetery).  We saw art (Dutch Masters, The Girl with the Pearl Earring).  We saw pop culture (World of Coca Cola, CNN).  And we saw the Lost Cause peeking out from beneath the veneer of "good for all time zones" packaging (Stone Mountain).

Two nights ago, we took over a room at the Cambria Suites in Savannah.  We saw the natural world (Tybee Island and the Atlantic Ocean).  We saw still more history (Bonaventure Cemetery, the Historic District).  And we saw fabulous consumerism (the Riverwalk, Savannah Bee Company).

Our trip was amazing.  There's nothing more clever I can say.  It was just hella amazing.  The girls will remember how much they loved walking down the path from Stone Mountain in the rain and how cool the World of Coca Cola was.  Yvette loved traveling with her Goddaughters--and, of course, she enjoyed her time at the Savannah Bee Company.

I loved so much about the trip that I don't know how to describe it.  I loved being with my babies and with the best traveling companion a girl could ever wish for.  And I loved the history, the art, the pop culture, the natural world, and even the consumerism.  I loved meeting new people, faking a Southern drawl, and driving through the quiet Georgia night under a full moon.  I loved eating at the Waffle House, at the Swan Coach House, at Mrs. Wilkes Boarding House.  I really loved discovering pralines.  I loved the Civil War and the New South of Atlanta and the Colonial Era and the Revolutionary War of Savannah.

I can't express all the emotions welling up, even as I type this (of course, I am bone tired, which might be why I'm so "verklempt").  So, I'll just stop.

This is History Girl, signing off....  

To Bee or not To Bee--it wasn't even a question!

Looking back on this busy day, I can't believe our vacation is about over.  Tomorrow we drive to Atlanta early in the morning to catch our flight back to Sacramento.  For the next few minutes, though, I'm going to savor today one more time.

A complimentary breakfast is not offered at this hotel, but they do have a little mini-restaurant where the four of us enjoyed a quick repast.  What was best about this meal?

My darling!  I've missed you so!

Once thus refreshed, it was back into the city of Savannah for another day of sightseeing.

We began at the Bonaventure Cemetery, the famous final resting place of important Savannahians and one of the settings for Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.  The girl on the cover of the book has since been removed from the cemetery and now resides at the local history museum.  But there was plenty to see.

A visit to the office got us a map and little guide book, and Maddie took over as navigator.  The first visit we paid was to little Gracie Watson.  Gracie was her parents' only child and a great favorite around 1889 Savannah.  She passed away from pneumonia at just six years of age.  Her burial site is remarkable for the sculpture of her, sitting all dressed up in her Easter dress as she died just after Easter.  The sculpture was the work of one John Walz, Savannah's pre-eminent sculptor, and is wonderful in its wistfulness.  But, as with any child's grave, it does tug at the heartstrings.

Little Gracie Watson, 1883-1889

After Gracie, we walked over to see one of the founding fathers of Georgia, one Noble Jones.  Noble arrived with colony founder James Oglethorpe in 1733 and his son and grandson after him were both active in Savannah and Georgia colonial and state affairs.  Most people from the colonial area are buried at Colonial Cemetery (which is where my favorite Georgia historical figure, Button Gwinnett is buried), but the Jones were picked up and moved to Bonaventure, I guess so they could all be together.

From left to right:  Heidi, Noble Jones, Maddie

Next on this self-designated tour was Mrs. Mary Telfair.  Her family had deep roots in Georgia, with one member, Edward, being one of the leaders during the American Revolution.  Mary herself donated her home to be an art museum and also founded the Telfair Hospital for Females.  Why do I like her?  Well, the Telfair Hospital for Females was just that--a hospital for females.  It was staffed by women, for women.  The only males allowed in the facility were those born there--and they had to vacate the premises after three days' residence. The man-hater in me says "Go, Mary!!"

Lovin' that Mary!

No trip to Savannah's premier cemetery would be complete without a visit to some of its artsy figures.  We began with the great Johnny Mercer.  As I mentioned yesterday, I love so many of Johnny's songs.  He is buried with several other members of the Mercer family, several of them with lyrics from his songs on their gravestones.

The Mercer family

Here's Johnny!

Another of the arts community found at Bonaventure is author Conrad Aiken.  Aiken came with his own tragic story.  It seems that his father was a brain surgeon and a prominent man in the medical community of Savannah in the late 1800's.  He started out as a brilliant physician but soon began to become angry and, eventually, violent.  With no warning, he killed his wife and then himself when Conrad was just a boy.  Strangely, he and the little woman are buried side by side.  What?  Is she saying she has no hard feelings?

I had never heard of Conrad Aiken before, so I did a little checking into him.  Here is a portion of one of his poems, entitled "Rose and Murray" included in his Turns and Movies and Other Tales in Verse:

After the movie, when the lights come up,

He takes her powdered hand behind the wings;

She, all in yellow, like a buttercup,

Lifts her white face, yearns up to him, and clings;

And with a silent, gliding step they move

Over the footlights, in familiar glare,

Panther-like in the Tango whirl of love,

He fawning close on her with idiot stare.

Nice, huh?

I wish I had gotten a picture of Conrad's grave site.  He had his tombstone fashioned like a bench so people could sit down and have a martini with him.  I sat right on down, sans martini, and proceeded to read about him to what I thought was just Yvette and the girls.  When I finished and looked up, other tourists were around.  I jumped up and scrammed out of there too quickly to even think about taking a picture.

We finished our time at Bonaventure by driving leisurely through its many little roads, looking at the interesting grave markers, names, and dates.

Then it was time to head back to the historic district, now one of my favorite places in the U.S. 

Here I must take the time to note the amazing Parking Karma that accrues to my traveling companion, Ms. Yvette Woolfolk.  She has long been known for her amazing good fortune when it comes to finding parking, and today was no exception.  Making use of her luck, we found a parking place right across the street from Mrs. Wilkes' Boarding House, our chosen location for lunch.  Of course, a good parking place is no good without someone who can parallel park.  And I did--and pretty good, too.

Time to walk about Mrs. Wilkes' Boarding House.  It was recommended by my mom as well as by my friend Faith, and we felt compelled to give it a look.  All I can is "Oh, my God!"

And this doesn't do it justice....

First, you wait outside until there is room for you at one of the large tables.  Then you sit with complete strangers at a table already full of food.  Then more food arrives at the table.  Somehow you manage to start passing food around and the visiting and talking starts.  Next thing you know, you're eating waaaay more than you expected, trying new food, meeting other people, and having a wonderful time.

I tried three things for the first time:  Sweet tea--very nice but not something I'd drink all the time; collard greens--icky; and black-eyed peas--they tasted like peas, yuck!

I wasn't the only one bold about trying new things.  The girls and Yvette did even more sampling than I did, as did the other guests at our table.  Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, beef stew, pulled pork BBQ, sweet potatoes in some amazing honey glaze, dressing, lima beans, squash dishes, okra, greens, black-eyed peas--and I know I'm leaving out things.  Lunch was finished off with either banana pudding (ah-mazing) or blackberry compote.  All of us at the table, including the Los Angelenos who are now living in Miami and the couple from Texas, were groaning by the time we had to pick up our dishes and take them to the kitchen.

As I stepped away from the building, I wanted to stand and shake my first, just like Scarlett O'Hara, and say:

"With God as my witness, I'll never BE hungry again."

If you get the chance and have the $18 to spend, I strongly recommend you join the throng and go to Mrs. Wilkes'.  It's only opened from 11 a.m. to 2:00 p.m., and you'll have to wait, but it is well worth the effort.

Having eaten ourselves into a stupor, what else could we do but head in the direction of the Savannah Bee Company.  Again, Yvette's parking karma came to the rescue, and we secured a free spot right on the street.

Here a note:  driving in Savannah is not as difficult as you might think.  While there are one-way streets and such, it really doesn't seem all that daunting.  We were able to easily find parking (this may not work for you unless you have Yvette with you) and got used to the grid-and-square arrangement pretty easily.

Ah, the Savannah Bee Company.  You begin with the tasting--just like wine tasting, at a bar that runs half the length of the shop.  While you're tasting the various honeys, you can talk to the wonderful bee-rista (I made that up!) who is so knowledgeable that she'll knock your socks off.  Then, you are free to purchase whatever honey products you may want.  Yvette purchased several things, including some little jars of honey for the girls and a beeswax lip tint for me.

Yvette about to enter the Savannah Bee Company

Yvette and the Bee-rista

After having all that honey, what could we do next but to visit the special salt store.  This did not hold as much interest for me, but Yvette sampled salt and other seasonings to her heart's content.

We next headed for the waterfront, ready to buy cheesy tourist products.  While the riverwalk is lined with shops, restaurants, and bars, it is interesting to look up at the huge buildings under which these little places are located and to remember that the big cotton factors had their offices there.  According to the literature, cotton prices were set in only two places--Liverpool and Savannah.  The men who worked in those tall brick buildings had a lot of power over the economy of the entire South, both before and, surprisingly, after the Civil War.

Exhausted shoppers

We were running on empty by the time we left the waterfront and headed back to the hotel.  For me, it was right into my swimsuit and down to the spa, clutching one of the two books on Savannah history I have purchased.  Maddie and Heidi took off to explore the woods surrounding our hotel (where do they get the energy?), and Yvette hung out in the blessed peacefulness of the room.

We gathered together when it was, shockingly, time for dinner.  You'd think there would be no need for food, ever, after Mrs. Wilkes.  But we all wanted a little something for dinner, and we had yet to visit one of the most ubiquitous features of the South, the Waffle House.  As luck would have it, there is one near our hotel. 

While some may sneer, I enjoyed my waffle very much.  And, after dinners that cost nearly $100, the tab of $20 for the four of us seemed pretty damn reasonable--better than reasonable.

It's getting late, and I need to pack.  We're up with the dawn tomorrow and headed for home.

Oh, Savannah!

Goodbye Atlanta.  Hello Savannah.

This was our day to hop to another town.  We meant to get up early, and did so, even earlier than we expected.  Just minutes before Yvette's alarm was set to go off, a weird alarm sounded in the room.  I was confused, thinking that Yvette had changed her quirky little tinkling alarm for an abrasive honking sounding one.  Yvette was confused, thinking that Maddie had set her alarm for an obnoxiously early hour.  Then a voice was heard in the hall, mechanically telling us to evacuate the building.

If this had been a real emergency, we would have been fried.  I grabbed my phone and a sweatshirt, thinking it may be cool outside.  Heidi began putting on all her clothes and getting her purse ready.  Yvette rolled out of bed and promptly vanished into the bathroom.  And Maddie, finding the bill had been slipped under our door in the night, decided to pause a while to read it.  Meanwhile, we could hear people stomping down the hall, using the staircase opposite our door to obediently leave.  By the time we were all ready, we peeked out of the door only to be told by a maintenance man not to bother.  Lucky us, as it was several minutes before our neighbors returned to their room.

Nobody really wanted the extra few minutes of sleep we still had coming to us.  Yvette was ready first and went down to breakfast.  The girls and I followed some time later.  Of course, we couldn't eat together.  Since our first trip to Europe together,  Yvette and I have never eaten breakfast together on vacation.  She's always the one up early, and I'm always the one unwilling to leave the cozy comfort of my bed.

Somehow, we got all our gear together and into the rental car, and we bid a fond farewell to the Embassy Suites at Centennial Olympic Park.  Thanks to confusing Siri, we got off to a start going the wrong direction, but we were soon on our way east and south toward Savannah.

There is much to say about the weather today.  As we left Atlanta, we were in a light rain.  After leaving the city, it was either raining like hell, barely allowing any visibility, misting just enough to be irritating to the windshield wipers, or sunny and bright requiring sunglasses.  The weather was anything but dull as we went about our journey.

A delightful thing to mention about the freeways we took to get from Atlanta to Savannah.  There was hardly any trash along the road--not anywhere along the road.  These were the cleanest highways I've ever been on.  Also, the roads were nearly always surrounded by forests.  Again, kudos to Winnie the cab driver for pointing out that Georgians just pick a spot in the forest, clear it, and let the rest of the forest remain.  Made for a lovely drive.

We reached our hotel in the early afternoon, having made pretty good time on the road.  Dumping the luggage, we immediately set out for Savannah's historic district.  We picked a trolley service, paid, and hopped on for a tour.  Our driver, Michael, was a Brit with that nation's wonderful accent.  He pointed out items of historical interest but was also very knowledgeable about the architecture we were seeing.  There are both a colonial section and a Victorian section in the city's historic center, and many of the fabulous homes are privately owned and occupied.  Wouldn't I love to be one of those owners-occupiers!

Once the tour was over, we determined to set out on foot.  Yvette wanted to check out some of the shops in the City Market area.  That's where I discovered....

PRALINES!!!!!

Where have these been all my life?  Maddie and I went in together on a purchase of an embarrassing amount of this candy delight, and I'm crunching a piece while blogging.

One of the most delightful things about Savannah are the squares in the historical district.  According to the literature, there were originally 24 squares in the city, but two have been irrevocably lost to development.  Savannah seemed to have gotten a late start when it came to preserving its historic treasures, with some of the buildings being rescued as late as the mid-1980's. 

Trying to decide where to have dinner, we stopped in Johnson square, which, in an eccentric Savannah tradition, does not honor any Mr. Johnson (not Andrew, nor Van, nor Howard, nor Jimmie).  It does honor Nathanael Greene, the leader of American forces in the South during the Revolutionary War. 

Me, my hair, and the remains of Nathanael Greene

Another well-loved Savannah figure is the composer Johnny Mercer.  Anyone who has ever seen Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil knows that Johnny was a descendant of General Hugh Mercer, who built Mercer House, the house where Jim Williams killed his bad-boy lover.  Well, there are tributes to Johnny everywhere, including roads, signs, and the bench on which you can see Maddie below.

Maddie's bench includes the names of several of Johnny's
famous tunes, including my favorite Mercer tune, In the
Cool, Cool, Cool of the Evening

Also near Johnson Square was Christ Church, founded in 1733 with the current structure dating to 1838.  John Wesley started the first Sunday School in America right there in that church.  Another rector of the church, George Whitefield, was one of the men responsible for the "Great Awakening."  We didn't go in--maybe next time.

Christ Church, the "Mother Church of Georgia"

From here, we used the awful directions from Trip Advisor to go in the exactly opposite direction from the restaurant that Yvette had selected for dinner.  Looking on the bright side, we got a good look at the Savannah River.

That beautiful bridge in the background is the New Talmadge
Bridge which separates the upper and lower portions of
the Port of Savannah

We turned back in the correct direction and went off on what I can only call a forced march that would have put General Sherman to shame.  I'm sorry to admit that I was wearing flip-flops, not suitable for a forced march.  It was also nice and sunny--which translates here to hot and muggy.  I was soaked and aching by the time we reached the restaurant.

Happy, the restaurant was the Crystal Beer Parlor, with plenty of tempting beverage options.  While I enjoyed a Dogfish 60 Minutes, Yvette sipped a Smutty Nose Old Brown Dog brew.  In spite of their names, they were delicious and just hit the spot after a forced march.

As we dined relatively early, we had time for one more sightseeing bit before coming back to the hotel.  Off we went to Tybee Island, just 30 minutes from Savannah.  Soon my babies were dipping their toes into the Atlantic Ocean for the first time.  And, for that matter, so was I.  While I have visited Boston, I never put my feet into the Atlantic.

First time in the Atlantic

First time in the Atlantic

First time in the Atlantic

NOT her first time in the Atlantic

After our trip to the beach, we came home to soak in the hot tub for a while before heading up here to our room.  I've now munched two pralines while writing this, and I may have to eat just one more before laying my head on my pillow.

Having a wonderful time!!

Art for the Living, Art for the Dead

Oh my!  What a day! 

The day got off to a rocky start, with Heidi being sick through the night.  Yvette was up--early, as usual--and ventured off to spend an enjoyable day with her Georgia kin.   Maddie, Heidi, and I--as usual--slept late.  We finally got up, dressed, and into our rented red Chevy Malibu, while Siri provided directions toward Atlanta's High Museum of Art.

I had read about the High online and had perused its web page. Never did I bother to notice what traveling exhibit was currently in display.  Can you believe it?  It was Vemeer's Girl with a Pearl Earring!  That piece, along with several others by various Dutch Masters, are traveling the United States, and apparently will leave Atlanta in September to go to San Francisco for a show at the DeYoung.

Needless to say, I was over the moon.

The girls are gearing up for great art--touching an eyeball for good luck

While strolling through the Dutch paintings on my way to the Vermeer, I did meet a nice man who had brought his little son with him to the exhibit.  We saw them on the elevator and then again while looking at a wonderful piece that showed a domestic scene with parents, children, and what looked to be Drunk Uncle from Saturday Night Live.  The man told me that this was his favorite piece in the exhibit, and then began to explain the painting for me in the most wonderful detail.  He liked the piece because it showed that the children were trying to behave in the ways of the adults, a lesson that our children are always influenced by our actions. 

Speaking of children influenced by our actions, I was startled while waiting in line for tickets by Maddie making a reference to "Hoover flags."  Now, I thought this must be some reference to contemporary slang, but Maddie was quick to disoblige me of my wrongheaded notion.  "Hoover flags," pockets being turned inside out, arose as a symbol of pennilessness during the Great Depression.  You wore your "Hoover flags" to show that beggers need not ask you for money as you had none to give.  How on earth did Maddie, and Heidi as well, know this but I didn't?  CSUS, maybe you're not giving me the education I need!

Anyway, back to the Museum.  The Girl with the Pearl Earring was lovely, just as she is in all her reproductions.  She's small, like the Mona Lisa, but there is certainly something bewitching about her enigmatic look that also recalls the Mona Lisa. 

See what I mean?  Bewitching....

The rest of the museum was very nice, but paled a little when compared with the Huntington which the girls and I visited in July.  There were a few pieces by famous artists--Monet, Renoir, John Singer Sargeant, etc.--but not much.  Still, it was well worth the visit.

Maddie wants some new furniture

So do I

While the girls and I were basking in art, Yvette was basking in the glow on kinship, attending church services with her family this morning and singing along with the hymns.  She spoke to her cousins about the African-American thoughts on Stone Mountain, and their insights have really got me thinking.  One cousin says she goes to Stone Mountain every year--it is her land, too.  Born here in Atlanta, she will not give up her right to go where she pleases.  I like the attitude--the bad guys only win when the good guys do nothing.  Yet another cousin also remembers that, when he was a child, blacks did not go near Stone Mountain.  That was still a KKK site, and any non-white was well advised to steer clear.  Now, as we saw yesterday, there are families of every color in attendance.  In addition, many of the staff at Stone Mountain were African-American, refusing to lose out on an employment opportunity just because some rednecks used to think of the rock as their own. 

Anyway, back to our day.  The next stop for the girls and I was the Oakland Cemetery, Atlanta's biggest cemetery and home to hundreds of Confederate soldiers who died during the Civil War.

We came here to pay homage to Margaret Mitchell, finding her buried alongside her husband, John Marsh, and behind her parents, Eugene and Maybelle Mitchell. 

The parents of the great Margaret Mitchell

I'm communing with the great Margaret herself (through
my ass, apparently)

A quick trip to the cemetery office led to a visit with the nice lady working there, the purchase of a book about the cemetery for me, and a gargoyle candlestick holder for Maddie--very cool for both of us.

Then, now armed with a map, Maddie and I took off for a jaunt around the cemetery, while Heidi and her sour tummy went to snooze for a while in the car.  Maddie and I walked past several interesting markers, including the ones below.

Here is the final resting spot for one Sam Venable; Sam
owned the property at Stone Mountain and it was he who
lent it to the KKK for their rituals.  He has a lot to answer
for in the afterlife.

Maddie takes a look at the hundreds of dead Confederate soldiers

It is unclear whether this lion, honoring the unknown
Confederate war dead, is sleeping on top of the Stars and
Bars of dying on top of it.

General John Brown Gordon was one of Lee's trusted colleagues;
where he might have been tried for treason, he was instead
elected to both govenor and senator positions in the "reedemed"
Georgia

Another memorial honoring the Confederate dead

But, out of all that we saw in the Oakland cemetery, the grave of one Mr. Jasper Newton Smith, a building contractor and one-time city councilman, was my favorite.

Can you see him?  He's sitting on the roof of his mausoleum,
welcoming his guests.  Tricia, we might be able to arrange
something like this for you, when your time comes

After a wonderful look around the cemetery, it was back to the hotel for the girls and I.  Practical matters like laundry had to be attended to.  Yvette got back from her family visit, and it was time for our last happy hour here in Atlanta.

We leave for Savannah early tomorrow morning.  I wonder how my hair will like the change of scenery?

One Big-Ass Monolith

While this morning got off to a leisurely start, you wouldn't know it by how plum tuckered out we four travelers are tonight.  It's well after 11 p.m., and we just got back to the hotel from our afternoon and evening at Stone Mountain Park.

The day began with a bit of sleeping in--well, in varying degrees.  Yvette was up early, as usual, and was cleaned up and dressed and fed by the time I got out of the shower.  Heidi was up next, and, as ever, Madeline was the last one to roll out of bed.  Breakfast for me was eggs, grits, and bacon again--and, damn, it was good. 

A quick trip over to Enterprise provided us with a car for the first time on our trip, a little red Chevy.  With the help of Siri on my phone, we soon found ourselves driving through a rainy afternoon in Georgia.

Here I should mention the weather we've encountered on our trip--rain, rain, showers, rain, and mist.  The sun has not so much as peeked through the clouds since we touched down on Wednesday.  According to the locals we've spoken with, the entire summer has been like this.  They're all hoping for an early winter, just to get rid of the muggy, wet, warm, weather.

The upside to the dampness is that wherever you look, the world is green and lush.  The landscape between Atlanta and Stone Mountain was beautiful and also proved the truth of what Winnie the cab driver told us upon our arrival--people in Atlanta just carve out a little piece from the woods and plant themselves in it, while the woods remain all around.

Upon entering the parking lot at Stone Mountain Park, I was the first one to glimpse the monolith directly in front of us.  Reliable sources report me as saying "Oh, my God!" in an excited fashion.  As my companions had not seen what I saw, they couldn't understand my excited utterance.  Then they saw it, and they knew that "Oh, my God" was an understatement.

The monolith rises from the ground with sheer sides of granite; there is no gentle sloping up--it's just there, bang, right in front of you.  Coming around the corner toward the ticket booths, I also got a glimpse of the carving on the face of the mountain, and I realized with a jolt that no photo or video I had seen while preparing my Stone Mountain research paper had prepared me for the enormity of the carving.

We made a beeline to the gondola that would carry us to the top of the mountain, a wide, long, flat surface.  Once up there, we did not let the rain stop us from exploring the smooth granite top.  It was surprisingly easy to walk around--exposed granite is not slippery!  Who knew?  Anyway, even Yvette and I could keep up with mountain goats Heidi and Maddie.

It's like being on the face of the moon!

The mighty conquerer!

Think it was cold and wet?  Just ask Yvette!

It was sobering to think that the very granite that we stood on at the summit of Stone Mountain was the spot where, in November of 1915, one William J. Simmons and 40 of his closest friends formed a new version of the Ku Klux Klan, the version still in existence today.  Creepy, right?  Stone Mountain was a pseudo-religious site for the KKK for decades afterwards.

It's not that Stone Mountain has much to say about this part of its history.  While taking in the exhibits in Memorial Hall, the only notation about the Klan was a small little wooden plaque and one photograph.

   

And that was all Stone Mountain had to say about this particular aspect of its past.  The Civil War was covered to a small degree in the Memorial Hall museum, but it was an innocuous presentation similar to that at the Atlanta History Center yesterday. 

This all got me to thinking about the packaging of history in these places we've visited since we got here.  Everything is subdued, made palatable for all audiences.  The complicated, ugly parts are smoothed over or pushed into the background.  Anything embarrassing must be deleted, so people can feel good about their history without ever having to consider that there may be lessons there of things not to do in the future.  If we learn history to keep from repeating the mistakes of the past, how do presentations like the ones I've seen here do that?  They don't.

All this does not mean that I didn't have a good time.  I certainly did, in spite of the constant dampness that seeped into my shoes and socks (I hate this!!).  We had a lovely lunch at a restaurant whose theme was that of a camp--our waitress was our "camp counselor." 

No sense just sitting here waiting for food,
says Maddie.

Heidi is hiding from the papparazi

"Quit it, Lorraine!"

After lunch, we determined to try another 4D experience, hoping for a repeat of the fun we had at the 4D film at World of Coca Cola.  Of course, there was much teasing of Yvette in regard to her Min-Min Disease.  She did not even want to sit with the three Herbon girls, but eventually we maneuvered her into a spot in the middle.  She settled in with her arms folded and a stubborn look on her pretty face--she was determined not to be startled, no matter what happened in that theater.

She need not have worried.  The 4D movie was not that good--not too many 4D effects except for the spraying of water.  Yes, more water.  I'm sure that feels good in the summer, but when you're already wet?  Yeah, not so much.

We took a train ride that circled the entire monolith and got more opportunities to look at the natural wonders of Stone Mountain.  There are yellow daisies, Stone Mountain daisies, that grow only within a 60-mile radius of the mountain.  Of course, there was a lot of green foliage to look at, as well as the beautiful granite.  Granite from Stone Mountain went into the pedestal of the Lincoln Memorial (this park is full of irony) as well as into buildings as far away as Japan.  I don't know if they still quarry the granite nearby, but it is certainly possible.  As we learned, only one percent of the monolith is visible--the other ninety-nine percent is underground.  That's amazing!

After the train, the girls made a big decision.  They wanted to go back up to the summit and then take the walking path down again.  I had really wanted to do this when we were first up on top, but decided against it when the ranger warned me about the muddy slipperiness.  But my babies are mountain goats, so I gave the nod of approval, and off they went.

Here I want to say something about the remarkably good travelers I've raised.  The girls may not always be interested in the history I try to impart, but they are always good sports about looking around and not whining.  On this trip, they've been off on their own a couple of times, to the Aquarium and then to the walking path down Stone Mountain.  And Maddie explored Centennial Olympic Park by herself and sat in the park sketching in her sketchpad.  My girls are worldly!

While Maddie and Heidi enjoyed their hike, Yvette and I trooped over to the Antebellum Plantation section.  Here are several replanted houses and outbuildings, just like at the Atlanta History Center.  There was a doctor's cabin circa 1826, a little school from the 1870's, a modest colonial-era house, and finally a big plantation house circa 1840.  We peeked into the slave cabins, and it again reminded me of the concept of packaging history for the masses.  The quarters were big, with furniture and such, one even had a glass window, and there were toys for the slave children.  I don't doubt that this is likely accurate.  But it glosses over the darker parts of what it was like to be a slave.  No freedom to go where you wanted, at a master's beck and call, sexual exploitation, families torn apart, etc.  But, by presenting the slave quarters, the curators can congratulate themselves on telling the story without having to really tell the story.  Hmmmmm.

We met up again with the girls, who announced that their hike was the best part of their Stone Mountain day, in time for the laser show.  Now this is really something.  Lasers and projections are put onto the side of the mountain, over but sometimes including the carving.  At first, the show was pretty innocent.  It began with, believe it or not, commercials for the various corporate sponsors whose dollars go into producing the laser show.  Then there was a section that seemed just like more commercials that celebrated Atlanta's professional sports franchises.  Much of the rest of the show was focused on music--music by native Georgians, like Little Richard and (believe it or not) the B52's.  Of course, Ray Charles singing "Georgia on My Mind" was prominently featured, although there was also a little salute to neighboring Alabama when "Sweet Home Alabama" was combined with laser-generated images that brought to mind the best parts of that state (including Talladega).  And there was a sticky sweet salute to heroes with some sticky sweet song that did not inspire but irritated instead.

I worried that the portion of the laser show that I wrote about in my Stone Mountain paper was no longer a part of the show.  But it was!  Generals Lee and Jackson, along with President Davis, came to life and rode across the mountain with swords drawn.  Then General Lee rode alone and saw all the destruction of the war.  This made him so sad that he ended the Civil War by breaking his sword over his knee.  The pieces of the sword dropped down and miraculously turned into the reunited United States--except that everything west of the Rockies was not included.  Mind you, readers, that there were states in the West, states that remained within the Union.  Hell, California even sent soldiers to fight in Texas!  But we weren't included in the reunited nation--they've only ever loved us for our gold, then and now.

I wish I could have gotten a video of the laser show, especially the part about the three Confederate leaders.  But 'twas not to be.  Happily, there is a video on You Tube that shows that portion.  What's good, though, is that now I can update my Stone Mountain paper with my own observations.  Guess I'll get right on that when I get home.

While I may not like my hair, I do like my field of study.  Wonderful day for an historian....

Sunshine?  Clearly a doctored photo!

From the Past to the Very Present

Beginning each day with a good breakfast took on a new meaning today....

Breakfast is done right in the Embassy Suites.  Beginning the day with grits, bacon, and eggs--along with Atlanta's favorite soft drink--proved just the ticket for a gal who was going to venture into the past and into the present, all in one day.

The past took the form of the Atlanta History Center (AHC).  Rain falling lightly led to the decision to journey to the AHC via taxi-cab.  Our driver, Malore, hailed from Ethiopia and had only been in the U.S. for just over a year.  His English was not so good, but he was very friendly.  He delivered us to the cobblestone driveway of the AHC in short order, and we were soon stepping into the first gallery, a look at Atlanta through the ages.

To their credit, the AHC did not try to sugar-coat Atlanta's past.  Original bills of sale for slaves were on display early in the exhibit, not hidden away in some corner but right there, front and center.  Thought-provoking and more than a little gut-wrenching. 

The girls take their history in slow, easy bites.

Still, the real emphasis of the exhibit focused on Atlanta's rise as part of the New South.  The recovery from the war, the aggressive business growth, and an enthusiastic re-entry into the nationwide economy brought Atlanta to the center of Georgian life and also led to the move of the state capital from Milledgeville to Atlanta.  World War II brought new opportunities for growth, including the establishment of a huge airplane factory in nearby Marietta.  Film footage showed Margaret Mitchell (a leftover from yesterday's history lesson) christening the battleship Atlanta.  When it was sunk at Guadalcanal, the citizens of Atlanta, led by the city's mayor, Hartsfield, and the indomitable Miss Mitchell, raised enough money to build a new battleship--and a spare.  Pretty impressive!

What a ride!

Leaving the exhibit on Atlanta, we meandered over to the exhibit dedicated to the 1996 Atlanta Olympic Summer Games.  Remember that annoying little gymnast who broke her ankle but hopped over the vault anyway?  Ugh!  But there were lots of interesting things to see from the games, and a trivia contest that included a question about Johnny Weismuller.  And, yes, I know who Johnny Weismuller was!

Yvette takes the GOLD!

The next exhibit tackled the touchy subject of the Civil War.  The exhibit structure followed the course of the war year by year, with the initial portion focusing on the causes of the war.  I could see that the museum curators were careful in presenting a balanced perspective, presenting the views of each side, but really not acknowledging too strongly that Confederate leaders fought to preserve their slave labor system.  The only jarring note was the language used to explain Lincoln's war measures during the first two years of the conflict, including conscription, emancipation, and the imprisonment of political dissidents.  The way the exhibit used these terms made them sound like terribly harsh actions, taken only because the U.S. wanted to win the war at all costs.  Never mind that Jefferson Davis initiated the draft in the South--and this in direct opposition to what he later claimed to be his reason for leaving the Union, the cause of state sovereignty over that of a federal government.  Damn, I'm such a Yankee!

The Civil War exhibit included an amazing number of artifacts, including lots and lots of guns, canteens, and uniforms.  Those nineteenth-century people impress me with their dedication to preserving history.  They knew they were in a life-altering time, and they did all they could to preserve their memories of it for themselves and for us.

I'm thinking about bringing some of these back
into everyday language

An understatement, but at least it got a mention

Me and my research interest!

I took exception to the "amateur historian" from California
who wanted to see more in the museum about battle
tactics of Generals Johnston and Jackson.  I should have
added that I graduated summa cum laude!  I'm such a snob.

Once we finished with the Civil War exhibit, we passed by the Bobby Jones golf exhibit with a mere nod in Bobby's direction.  Out the doors and into the garden went Yvette and I, far behind Maddie and Heidi who, by this point, had explored all over the gardens and other buildings in the AHC complex.  We grown-ups walked to the Inman house, enjoying the deep, lush, forest that separates the actual museum from the several other buildings.

Yvette and I look just right in this setting, don't we?

The Inman house was built in the late 1920's for a wealthy Atlanta capitalist.  The house was moved from its original location to its current site on the grounds of the AHC; a lot of the original furnishings came with the house as well. 

Now, I know what I'm about to write will astonish some of my history friends, but there were docents engaged in "living history" in the Inman house.  Shocking, I know, but I have to say that I enjoy these actors.  There was a butler and a cook on the first floor of the Inman home, and the house's architect greeted us at the top of the stairs on the second floor.

Heidi found a copy of Heidi

The home truly was beautiful--so very early 1930s that I could have lived there happily myself.  Intricate Italian plastered ceilings, shiny appliances in the kitchen, and, of course, a library full of books.  I enjoyed the kitchen and butler's pantry the most, especially when the cook said that Mrs. Inman did not let the children eat at the dining room table because of their poor manners; they have to eat in the butler's pantry.  Shades of Mr. Carson!

At this point in my blog, I must discuss my BFF Yvette and her case of Min-Min Disease.  Our old cat, Minnie, is frightened by everything.  So is Yvette--recall, if you will, her shouting yesterday at the World of Coca Cola 4-D movie.  Today, Yvette's Min-Min Disease came on her as we walked through the forest from the Inman house to another location on the AHC property.  Stepping into a particularly slushy part of the dirt (mud!) pathway, Yvette could feel herself sinking.  Startled, she shouted out that she had stepped in....

Quick Sand!

Seriously, this Min-Min Disease is potentially dangerous--you could die laughing!

Also on the AHC property was the Tullie Smith house. This little frame home, circa 1845, was also one removed from its original location to the AHC.  It, too, had "living history" people, although I didn't interact with them. It sported a separate kitchen, a blacksmith shop, a lumber shop, some chickens in a coop, a working vegetable garden, a corn crop, and some noisy sheep. Also among the outbuildings of the Tullie Smith farm was a little house for the slaves, whitewashed inside, simple, and not very big for a farm that had 12 slaves at one point.

Maddie and Blackjack

Back into the grounds, we stumbled upon a little statue of an elephant.  These pics are obviously for Grandma....

By this point, my grits-eggs-bacon breakfast was beginning to wear off.  Happily, the Swan Coach House was nearby.  This proved to be something of an upscale venue, and we definitely looked like the country cousins come to visit. 

Mrs. Inman would have made Madeline eat in the butler's pantry

The dainty little lunch, though, was absolute perfection.  I had wonderful chicken noodle soup with little tea sandwiches.  For dessert, the treat pictured below:

Meringue on the bottom, chocolate mousse in the
middle, covered with Chantilly cream, and shaped like a swan--heaven!

After lunch, it was a quick stop at the gift shop (where I purchased an autographed edition of H. W. Brands biography of U.S. Grant!!), then back into a cab for the return to downtown.

Now, I have heard that the MARTA system has been referred to as "Moving Africans Rapidly Through Atlanta."  Having gone to-and-from the AHC in cabs, I believe that what actually happens is that "Africans Moved Us Rapidly Through Atlanta."  This cab driver was from Kenya and his name was Yamore.  Again, a very nice fellow. 

Our next stop was the world headquarters of CNN for the Inside CNN tour.  Now, while the tour was interesting, it certainly wasn't "inside."  We saw none of the famous CNN anchors or reporters, and the main studio was not even in use as Wolf and Anderson were reporting from Washington and New York respectively.  Still, I'm glad we did it.  The lay-out of the place was worth going in, if nothing else.

The inside of the building is one giant round room that reaches up at least ten stories.  All of the offices and studios are built on the sides and the entire bottom is one never-ending food court.  The girls managed to locate the one and only Taco Bell we've seen since our arrival--and they committed sacrilege by partaking of....don't repeat this...shhhh....Pepsi products!  I was mortified!

Back to the hotel after the Taco Bell was consumed, just in time for Happy Hour in the lobby.

   

I'm tuckered out tonight and running out of patience.  I made the mistake of looking at work emails, and that has bummed me a bit.  I'll need an evening to get back in the vacation mood, to get back in the  moment, before we take off for Stone Mountain tomorrow.  We're back in the room now, all snuggled in and watching (gasp!) Say Yes to the Dress.  Yvette is having quite the detrimental effect on us.

Enough for tonight.  My hair is weighing me down....