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....  

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....

Sharing a Coke, a Smile, and Margaret Mitchell

Tired but happy, I'm touristed out.  My intrepid companions and I got off to a late start this morning--well, three of us did.  Yvette was able to haul herself out of bed, get showered and dressed, go off and have breakfast, and return before I even woke up.  Then there was the chore of rousing my sleeping babies and getting them ready for a day of sightseeing--a more difficult chore befalls no mother.

Along with Stone Mountain, my must-see Atlanta attraction was the home of Margaret Mitchell.  With Maddie providing navigation, we trudged nearly two miles up Peachtree Street toward the small apartment building in which the amazing Mrs. Marsh wrote her one and only novel.  On the way, a Starbuck's was sighted, and nothing would do but that we had to stop for the obligatory coffee-based drinks.

Maddie made a friend on our way to MM's House

Here I want to say something about the word "Peachtree" in this city.  I had been duly warned that I would find the word everywhere, and I knew from reading GWTW that Peachtree Street was Atlanta's Civil War main drag.  What I didn't realize is that there are so damned many Peachtree Streets.  Peachtree Street NW and Peachtree Street SE, and on and on.  Damn, get a new name already, Atlanta!

Atlanta sports some fabulous architecture on the many Peachtree Streets, including the Fox Theater, a Moorish-design movie palace from the 1920's.  There is apparently a huge pipe organ inside, but there was construction going on so we couldn't really see anything except the outside.  They do play cartoons there on Saturday mornings--wouldn't that be a hoot?

Maddie especially enjoyed the architecture, although she also seemed to be fascinated by the many parking lots.  What we did notice about the buildings along Peachtree Street is the relative newness of them.  While some date back to the 1910's, most are of later construction.  Even the churches along this street, and there were several, looked old but really were not.

Finally, we reached Margaret's house.  As can be seen in this photo, the apartment building was not very big.  It was originally a single-family dwelling but was turned into apartments sometime around World War I.  John Marsh and Margaret Mitchell began their married life in the downstairs apartment, Apartment 1.  Both John and Margaret were working at the Atlanta Constitution at the time of their marriage, but an ankle injury sent Margaret to the apartment for a lengthy recovery period.  It was during this recovery that she set up a little desk and typewriter and began work on her magnum opus.

The apartment does not contain any of the Marsh's original furnishings, but a visitor gets a sense of how they made do in such a small living space.  They had a three-quarter size bed (and John Marsh was over six feet tall), and a little table in their bedroom served as their dining area.  The bathroom was actually wonderful, with a claw-foot tub plenty big enough for a long, luxurious soak.  The kitchen was tiny, and the ice-box was out on what looked like a little service porch.  The one thing still in place from Margaret's time was the tile in the entry hall.  I stood on the very tile Margaret stood on.  Wow!

The front door to the Marsh apartment is directly opposite the stairs leading up to their neighbors' apartments.  At the foot of the staircase, on the railing, is a lion's head newell.  Margaret would rub it when entering or leaving her apartment--just for luck.  While the original head was lost in a fire, I did rub the replacement head--just for luck.

The docent told us a little about the restoration efforts done to save the Mitchell apartment building when the rest of the neighborhood became very run down.  Surprisingly, it was Mercedes Benz that put up the money for the restoration, and not just once.  A fire nearly destroyed the building during restoraation, so Mercedes covered that too.  I think my nephew, who is very proud of his father's employment at a Mercedes dealership, will be very happy to read this.

There was much more to see than just the little apartment.  The building also housed the usual assortment of museum items, including some of Mitchell's original letters and copies of pages from the original GWTW manuscript.  The manuscript itself is in some bank fault (the docent did not say which bank--did she think we would use the information to stage a heist?).  The last of the heirs to the Mitchell estate died just a few years ago and apparently left the residue of the estate to the Archdiose of Atlanta.  Yeah, that's a little weird, and I wonder how the Archdiose will handle such a matter.

In a little building behind the apartment house, a room was dedicated to the movie version of GWTW.  Here was a replica of the oil painting of Scarlett that Rhett through a drink at when he found out that she still had the hots for ol' Ashley.  Also on display was the door from the movie Tara.  Oh, what I would have given for that door to be real!

Hysterial--that is NOT a camera in Maddie's hand.  It's actually
a little pillbox that she bought for herself at the gift shop!

Wishing she could enter Tara....

My beautiful girls on Margaret's porch

Look who's peeking through the curtains!

Once I had left the better part of my fortune at the Margaret Mitchell gift shop, we decided to give a try to Atlanta's MARTA rapid transit system.  The nicest possible MARTA employee helped us with ticket purchases and even got us on the right train, right car, to get to our next destination, the World of Coca Cola.

The MARTA runs waaaay underground

Kudos to the Coke company on an excellent museum/tourist trap.  Damn, it was awesome!  Our tour began with a wonderfully funny (and queer as a three-dollar-bill) guide.  There were people on our tour from all over the US as well as Jamica, Columbia, Poland, and Brazil.  The presentation begins with an overall description of the museum and then its into a little theater for a very clever animated film.  The film, Happyfication, was adorable, and included important little messages about exercise, sharing, living in the moment, and more. 

The layout of the museum was especially clever as it kept people moving along while still not feeling like you were being herded.  There was an exhibit on Coke in pop culture that featured works by Norman Rockwell.  Another section had various forms of Coke advertising and sponsorship, including....

Wait for it....

ONE OF TONY STEWART'S DRIVER'S SUITS--AUTOGRAPHED BY SMOKE HIMSELF!!!

There were lots of photo opps available, and we missed very few.

Certainly one of the best parts of the World of Coca Cola was the 4-Day film.  It was sort of goofy, about a wacky scientist and his assistant who try to uncover the secrets of Coke.  While the film and effects were great, it was Yvette's reaction that really made the experience worthwhile.  From the first movement of the seats (which they warned you would move), Yvette hollared.  And whenever anything  came at her from the screen, she hollared.  When cool air or a few drops of water blew on her, she hollared.  When a little thing on the back of the seat poked her, she hollared.  I can't even describe here all that went on in the movie because Yvette's reactions had me laughing so damned hard.  Talk about getting the most from the 4-D experience--that's our Yvette!

In the tasting room

The tasting room proved to be one of the best features of the museum.  Divided into sections for each continent, you could taste any or all of the Coke products.  This corporation has its fingers all over the earth, and each region has its own particular taste and products.  Winners of the Best Taste Award as judged by Yvette, the girls, and I went to Inca Cola from South America, a watermelon-flavored drink from Europe, and Cherry Fanta from North America.  Between enormous burps, the girls also noted that a drink from Djibouti tasted like mouth wash. 

In the tasting room, I got myself pranked by three little boys with angelic faces and mischief buried deep inside.  As I approached the European section, these little fellows were standing nearby.  "Try this one," they suggested, pointing to a drink called Beverely from Italy.  "Is it good?" I queried.  "Oh, yes," they assured me, their eyes shining with innocence and goodness.  So, I put some in my cup and gave it a shot. 

Those little bastards are lucky I didn't spit it all right back out at them.  I don't know what's going on in Italy these days, but drinking Beverely ranks as one of the worst taste sensations of life.  Of course, the naughty boys delighted in the face I made as I poured out the remaining Beverely from my cup.

It was now that Heidi strolled over to the European section, and, with the help of the boys, we got her to try Beverely as well.  Hee hee!!

The culmination of the visit to the World of Coca Cola was, of course, the gift shop.  Gifts were purchased for others as well as for ourselves--hella fun!  By this time it was about 4:00, and Yvette and I found ourselves desperately in need of some foot resting.  The girls, however, still had plenty of spring in their steps, so they took off for the world-class Georgia Aquarium.  I suffered a little lump in my throat as they went off--all by themselves, sightseeing in a strange city.  They were like grown-ups.

All together once again at the hotel, we enjoyed the nightly happy hour which consisted of wine or mixed drinks and some snack foods (sangria was the speciality of the night, but Yvette's sangria is way better).  This proving insufficient in terms of satisfying the giant hunger of a day of walking, we went to the Park Avenue Deli right around the corner from the hotel.  Fabulous dinner was followed by half an hour in the hot tub on the roof of the hotel.  And now we're all back in the room, happy and relaxed--except for Heidi who wants ice cream.  Well, hell.  Ice cream doesn't sound half bad.

Gotta go.

Oh, practically styling an Afro in this jungle climate.  But I'm owning it.