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Posts Tagged ‘Rome’

Decoration Day.

Myrtle Hill Cemetery, Rome GA

A day originally set aside to remember soldiers lost during the Civil War, adorn their graves with flags and flowers, and honor their service to the cause no matter on which side of the Mason-Dixon line they spilled their blood.

Memorial Day.

The same day as Decoration Day. The unofficial official beginning of summer. A time to put that Hawaiian shirt on, fire up the grill, ice down some beer, and celebrate the leisurely, beach-bum lifestyle you wish you had the other 364 days out of the year.

Every year, on the last weekend of May, the two are mushed together into a three-day long celebration of family, fun, and friendship, summer, service, and shopping, oh…and remembrance of the dead, military or otherwise. I hate it.

Or at least I used to.

You see, Memorial Day is the anniversary of the absolute worst day of my entire life – the day I found out that my first husband was having an affair with my so-called friend – and that they had been, in fact, in flagrante delicto for years. YEARS! It was the day that I realized that a big fat chunk of my life was a big fat lie. It was the day that I suddenly became a single mother. It was the day that my belief in common decency and trust in anything that seemed real shriveled into a dry, empty husk and blew away on the May breeze.

And along with it went a perfectly good holiday, an excuse for a garden party, a reason for dry rubs – all ruined.

“Why don’t you just forgive and forget?” they all said.

Because some wrongs are just flat unforgivable. They, by their very nature, so fly in the face of all that is right that one cannot, should not, ignore, condone, or excuse them. And to forget…well, to forget would be to lay yourself open to be wronged again. Fool me once and all that jazz.

“Why don’t you just get over it?” they all said. Because there are some things you don’t get over. For those of you fortunate enough to have not walked a mile through the Courthouse in my pumps, a divorce is like a death in the family. And, when combined with the ultimate betrayal of not only your husband, but your so-called friend, it is more like double homicide.

But time slowly erodes the sorrow, the anger, and the hate. The pain dulls. And, much like the death of that loved one, while you’re not necessarily thrilled that it happened, you learn to cope.

Then, ultimately, new life comes to replace the one that was taken. Happiness is restored. And you find yourself much better off than you were before. Almost grateful, even, for the selfish, horrible acts that catapulted you kicking and screaming into a brave new world.

That’s why this year, along with the rest of America, I will dust off my blender and don my flip flops and head out into the summer heat, not dwell a life lost, but to rejoice in the freedom that loss brought me – the freedom to be happy.

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Husband and I have made it our mission to avoid the interstate at all cost. Despite feeling like you are being shot out of a dangerous, crowded canon for hours on end, you can’t even see anything outside the window except for a green blur with the occasional neon blip. However, just on the other side of that green blur, within your very grasp, are towns, landmarks, shops, greasy spoons, cemeteries, farms, oddities, and history, which are sometimes all one in the same.

All you have to do is exit.

The next time you decide to head south to the Gulf Coast, take Hwy. 31. Did you know that Chilton County peaches don’t come from a glorified truck stop jammed with RVs and chachka? They come from orchards scattered along the sides of the roads and sometimes from the tailgate of a farmer’s truck. Take a side trip through Verbena. It is a beautiful little town with a big, white church, and old train station, and clapboard houses. It looks like a postcard, and you aren’t even near the sea. A little further down the road, stop off in Georgiana to see the childhood home of Hank, Sr.

Hank, Sr.'s Boyhood Home in Georgiana, AL

(If you have to ask who that is, there may still be hope for you, but you should definitely detour. Now!)

Piddle on down through Milton, FL. If you simply must eat lunch somewhere that provides a porch and a rocker, I highly recommend the Blackwater Bistro in downtown. Their chairs face the Blackwater River, not an asphalt parking lot, not to mention the business is locally owned and the food is home-cooked.

Take Hwy. 5 to Hwy. 43 down toward Mobile. Go see Gee’s Bend where the quilts are actually made. Pictures can never adequately portray how isolated and impoverished Wilcox County is. You will gain a whole new appreciation for the hands who pieced those scraps together to make something useful and beautiful. And don’t bypass Grove Hill just because the “new highway” does. You might miss out on the steam table at Glenda’s serving up fried chicken, greens, cornbread, and tea sweeter than a mother’s love.

Forget about Atlanta being the hub to everywhere. If you want to go to North Georgia, head up through Rome and stop to see Myrtle Hill Cemetery, which is the final resting place for Confederate soldiers and a president’s wife, among others. Drive all the way to the top of the hill and look out over downtown where the Etowah and Oostanaula Rivers converge. Next stop off in Dahlonega at Quigley’s Rare Books and Antiques, right on the town square, and be amazed at their collection of first editions and out-of-print works.

If you can manage to leave Quigley’s, head right on over to Clarkesville and find your way to Mark of the Potter, which is way off the beaten path and totally worth very extra mile. Housed in an old grist mill situated on the banks of the Soque River, Mark of the Potter showcases the work of local artisans and has since the 60s when the mill’s machinery was destroyed in a flood. While you shop, the kids can feed the trout from the deck or play along the banks, but there’s no fishing allowed!

These are but a few examples of the marvelous treasures you can find if you just get off the path that has been beaten to a greasy pulp and onto the true roads less traveled. But you also can’t overlook the boarded up storefronts, the vacant lots, the overgrown railroad tracks, and abandoned houses peeking out from their blankets of kudzu. You must imagine the once vibrant hubs of commerce, travel, worship, and fellowship that now lie decrepit and abandoned. Conjure the ghosts of Main Streets past that finally surrendered to the highways and bypasses, to the big-box retailers and fast food restaurants, to the truck stops and strip malls. Catch a teeny glimpse what life was like before the four-lane frenzy made us all catatonic travelers, hurtling down the road to the next exit blind to all that we pass and all that passes us.

The next time you travel, no matter how near or far, don’t just stare vacantly through your windshield at the bumper of the car in front of you. Open your eyes and take a look at the world around you, really see what there is to see, and enjoy the trip for more than just a harried means to a manic end. Don’t be like Kaw-liga…see what you’ve been missing.

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