I Know What Hell Is

With all due respect to General William Tecumseh Sherman, war is NOT hell. Moving is hell. It's hell on wheels. It's hell on ice. It's plain everyday hell.

Since I accepted the offer from the University of Tennessee, I've been thinking endlessly of all that had to be done. Packing, arranging for a place in Knoxville, checking out the various options for toting my belongings across the country, etc. 

But that's not all. Because not only am I moving but Maddie and Randi are moving as well, into the W Street cottage next door to Heidi and Danny. And the amount of work needed on those cottages boggles the mind. 

All this is happening at once. To say I have been, and continue to be, overwhelmed, is quite the understatement. Roll that in your cigar and smoke it, General Sherman. 

As I write today, after three continuous weeks of work, Maddie and Randi (hereafter referred to as Mandi, in the grand tradition of Brangelina and Shamy) are now living in their cottage with three cats and our wonderful Penny, whose custody they share with Heidi and Danny (hereafter referred to as Dandi).  Dandi have three cats of their own, which means that the property Reiner meant to keep pet free is now home to six cats and a dog.  Can't win 'em all, Reiner.

We have started the arduous process of painting the interiors of the cottages, having finished the bedrooms in Mandi's cottage and the bathroom in Dandi's.  Reiner "Spackle Boy" Herbon purchased all the supplies we could ever dream of and even helped out some; his insistance on the use of spackle as the remedy for all structural and cosmetic blemishes in the cottages earned him his nickname.  In the interest of full disclosure, I will confess that the rest of us had nicknames as well:  Heidi "Crazy Cat Lady" Herbon; Maddie "Tape Girl" Herbon; Lorraine Dias "Paint Hair" Herbon; and Randi "Muscles" Owens.

In between days spent painting have been days spent packing.  I honestly believed that when the girls and I moved to the Sumerlin Ranch ten years ago that we had drastically downsized.  Apparently, we did not--and we added lots more stuff during our residency at the little house in Elk Grove.  Between the cottages and the house, we needed eight trips to the dump as well as donating mountains of stuff to Goodwill and other charities.

How to re-energize after a tough day

Another way to unwind 

"Draw me like one of your French girls, Jack." 

As I expect to be gone at least five years, I needed a storage place to house things I will not take to Knoxville.  This, sadly, includes my 1910 upright player piano.  As though it had a mind of its own, that blessed instrument stubbornly refused to be moved. While it obstensively has four wheels on its legs, you'd never know it by the way it tried to cling to each surface it passed over.  It had a wild ride in a moving truck to the storage place--the wildness may have been my fault.  While  I think I drove the truck exceedingly well, neither Maddie nor Heidi would ride with me after the initial drive.  Thank goodness for Randi.  And, now that the piano is neatly tucked away in its temporary home, I can paraphrase Scarlett O'Hara by saying, "As God is my witness, I'll hire movers for the piano next time."

With all the big stuff out of the house, yesterday it was time to move into the storage unit that will be my home for the next six weeks.  After being on my own for over thirty years, I'm back home with the parentals. But this time I am living in a tin box (O.K., well, their motorhome) in the driveway between my childhood home and my parents' "crap house."  One day I think I'll write extensively about the crap house, but lets just suffice to say that it is the small house next door to my parents which they purchased because they have too much crap for their own two-story, four-bedroom house.

The first night in the tin can didn't go too badly, although I couldn't figure out how to get the cool air outside to come inside until well after midnight.  I'll be snug as a bug, though, once I get everything figured out.

Much remains to be done, including more painting on the cottages, clean-up and sale of the Sumerlin Ranch, and, eventually, the cross-country trip to my new digs, my new job, my new academic challenge, my new life. I wonder if I should take up drinking?  

Keine Alkohol fur Melli; Berliner Weisses fur Maddie and Heidi

Petra's House, April 20, 2015, 5:55 p.m.

I declare this to have been a marvelous day.  First of all, staying up to 10 or so last night, visiting and talking the whole time, seemed to guarantee that I'd sleep well.  And I did.  From my view in the bed by the window, I could see the lights of the apartments across the street.  Somehow it seemed friendly to me, those neighbors still up and about and with their lights on.

I must say something about our bedroom here at Petra's.  It was Melli's room as a girl, so the walls have her photos, paintings and crafts, karate belts and awards, and much more.  With very, very high ceilings in this flat, Petra had a loft built in Melli's room, and she furnished it with two twin mattresses, which is where Maddie and Heidi hold court.  Reiner is on a blow-up mattress at one end of the room, by the door, and my bed is, of course, by the window.  

We all woke relatively early, even Maddie, although she did not emerge from under her covers until breakfast was on the table. Once everyone had eaten the fresh pastries and rolls, we all (Reiner, me, Maddie, Heidi, Petra, Sascha, Melli, Mika, and T.J.) walked the few blocks to the U-bahn station.  Public transit tickets purchased for we four Herbons, we took the U-bahn to the Kudamn.

Here we took advantage of the opportunity to look at the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church.  This building, a beautiful church before the war, is even more beautiful now, as it was left in its bombed out condition by Berliners after the war as a reminder of the destruction that comes from violent conflict. The murals on the walls and ceiling, although marked with putty where cracks appeared after the bombings during the war, are still gorgeous, as are the various sculptural ornaments inside.

After an obligatory stop at Starbuck's (in honor of the absent Yvette), we hopped on the 100 bus, the one that circles all the big tourist spots in the city.

Our first stop--the Berlin Victory Column, a.k.a. the Siegessaule, a.k.a. "Chick-on-a-Stick."  Originally designed in 1864 to commemorate  the Prussian victory in the Danish-Prussian War, by the time it was finished, it also commemorated the Prussian victories over Austria in 1866 and France in 1870 (yes, those Prussians seem pretty damned aggressive).  I wondered why, when the French marched into Berlin with the Allies in 1945, they didn't destroy this monument to their earlier defeat.  According to the source of all source, Wikipedia, the French did want to dynamite it, but the Brits and us Yanks nixed the idea.  According to Maddie and Heidi, who with Reiner, Melli, and the little boys climbed the 285 steps to the top, bullet holes are easily visible in many parts of the monument, perhaps a left-over of WWII.

Back on the bus, we journeyed to the Reichstag.  While we will go back and actually go inside, today was just about looking at the front of this beautiful home of Germany's parliament.  On the way there, Sascha was kind enough to point out the Chancellor's building, where Angela Merkel reigns supreme--and kicks the ass of a certain American president who dared to listen in on her calls.

A short walk, and we found a restaurant for lunch.  Yummy currywurst and fries complemented the Berliner Weisse that I enjoyed. Maddie and Heidi also had this unique Berlin treat, a weiss beer with a raspberry syrup.  While Maddie and I are big fans, Heidi didn't care for adulterated beer.  She's a purist. (Here, I left my iPad for a moment and came back to see:  "I am lorraine and i am a loser. i like to write my blog all day long and never look at anything.")

Heidi--not so much

Maddie--very much!  

Just a short walk brought us from the restaurant to the Brandenburg Gate.  Beautiful, as I remembered,the changes to the surrounding area were big and obvious.  On the east side of the gate, the embassies that took up Unter dem Linden in the olden days are back.  The American embassy stands immediately inside the gate, next to the Deutsche Bank, which is next to the re-established Adlon Hotel.  Readers of Erik Larson's brilliant In the Garden of Beasts will recognize the Adlon as the place to see and be seen in 1930s Berlin.

Back on the bus to the Alexanderplatz, where we viewed the Fernsehturm (famous television tower) from the outside, but a long, none-moving line for tickets discouraged us from riding the elevator to the top.

Now, we are all back in the flat on Ordenmeisterstr., the kids are playing in the other room, Sascha and Ollie (who joined us after he got off work) are on the computer, Reiner is taking a nap (he would NEVER EVER survive an actual Yvette-Lorraine vacation), and Maddie and Heidi are arguing about job availability in the Sacramento area, the current movement to raise the minimum wage, and something about Danny not being welcome in Canada.  And I am blogging, full of German history and satisfied.

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.