Day #140 – The Wren’s Nest

Cartersville GA

There were so many things we wanted to see in Atlanta, but we had just one day.  We chose The Wren’s Nest (http://www.wrensnestonline.com), home of author Joel Chandler Harris.  It was a very important place for Kelly to visit and it was on the outskirts of town which made for easier navigation and parking.

When Kelly was little, her father used to read the Uncle Remus stories to her.  She still treasures these memories.  You know that Kelly loves all things Disney and the movie “Song of the South” was no exception.  She has collected most of the Disney films and was quite bothered that she could not find this movie.  When she found out Disney had sold the rights to it, in an effort to distance itself from the racial turmoil caused by the movie, she was hugely disappointed.  She saw the stories as a way to connect with her father, and saw a moral in each one.

When I was little, my parents censored all kinds of things from me.  The Uncle Remus stories were one.  The first time I rode the Splash Mountain ride at Disney World, I was surprised by the racial undertones.  That ride was my first introduction to Uncle Remus.

We went to the Wren’s Nest hoping to explore our own inherent prejudices and learn more about this issue.  Our guide for the tour was an elderly Black woman.  She had been raised to believe that the only wrong thing Mr. Harris had done was not share his profits from the African-American stories with the African-American community.  She started working at the Wren’s Nest as a housekeeper because she needed the work.  She implied that her friends and family nearly shunned her for this, but she kept the job.  She continued working there, eventually becoming a docent, as she learned more about Mr. Harris and how he came to write the stories.

We learned that Alice Walker wrote a scathing essay, accusing Mr. Harris of stealing her culture.  We learned that historians are grateful to him because he preserved stories from a lost culture, right down to the dialect.  African-Americans seem to be as divided on the issues as White people.  Explore the website – read the essays on the issue – and decide for yourself.

After our visit, we went to Chanterelle's Cafe & Catering (646 Evans St SW
Atlanta, GA 30310) for lunch.  One of the other docents recommended it.  It was a bit soul, a bit Cajun, and a bit French.  It was altogether yummy.  Kelly had macaroni and cheese, French peas, and Salisbury steak.  I had shrimp Creole with basil squash.  We both ate until we had puppy belly.  I told the owner that I wanted to wash pots and chop vegetables in her kitchen just so I could watch them make that amazing food.

On our way back to camp, we stopped at the Kennesaw Mountain National Battlefield Park (http://www.nps.gov/kemo).  The battles that took place here began after the Confederacy began to weaken and the Union army was finally beginning to show its strength. The Union strategy, under General William T. Sherman, was the same time and again in this overall campaign for Atlanta.  He would hold the entrenched Confederates in place while sending another part of his army around and behind their flank.  Sometimes he was successful in cutting their supply lines and sometimes not.  Either way, the Confederates continued to fall back.  They dug in at Kennesaw Mountain.  This had been a previous stronghold, so there were already trenches and cannons in place.  There were a series of battles, over the course of three weeks.  The Union counted 3,000 deaths and the Confederates counted 800.  In the end, the Union took the mountain.

Day #139 – Ocmulgee NM

Cordele GA to Cartersville GA

On our way to Cartersville GA, we decided to stop at Ocmulgee National Monument (http://www.nps.gov/ocmu/index.htm).  We were feeling pretty full of ourselves.  We had noticed that many national park sites have RV parking lots and we had seen rigs bigger than ours at some of the sites.  Why not us?  We had enjoyed eating in our rig, en route to Point B.  We’d been told we could even pee in it.  So, why not a national park stop?

Ocmulgee National Historic Site is located near Macon, Georgia.  After exiting the Interstate, we drove through some neighborhoods where the locals did not seem happy to see us, possibly because we were not appropriately dressed in gang attire.  The road into the parking lot was narrower than we expected and the turns a bit tighter.  Kelly pulled into the parking lot at a speed just a titch over my comfort zone.  We thought nothing of that curb we popped.  We discussed the tight and narrow issues, trying to figure out how we were going to get out of that lot.  No matter – it would work itself out.

Kelly went into the visitor center and I took a walk around our rig.  Ooops.  Our trip over the curb resulted in a slashed sidewall and dinged rim.  I wasn’t sure how I was going to tell her this news.  I wasn’t particularly upset.  We were in a shady spot in a safe parking lot.  We had a spare and we had road-side assistance insurance. 

Kelly took the news really well.  We decided to tackle the tire before touring the site.  I got on the phone with Geico to find out about our road-side coverage and Kelly tackled the spare.  The nice folks at Geico either asked me insane questions (Them: “Exactly how long is your trailer?” Me: “With or without the tongue?” Them: “What’s a tongue?”  Them: “What color is your trailer?” Me: “Pretty much the same shade of white as all travel trailers.”  Them: “You need a tank of gas, right?” Me: “No. It’s a trailer.  It doesn’t use gas.  The problem is the tire.”) or put me on hold forever.  By the time I determined that we had the coverage we needed, Kelly had finished with the tire.  She actually hummed a happy song about how easy it was.

We cleaned up, had some lunch, and went back to the visitor center.  The center, built in the 1930s, is decorated with carvings that mirror the patterns carved into the pottery found at the site.  This center was more elaborate than some museums we’ve visited.  Exhibits showed life over the thousands of years of habitation, ending with the local branch of the Cherokee Nation.

There are many mound formations in this part of the country, but this is the only one (to my knowledge anyway) that has been excavated.  The floor is original (carbon dated to 1,000+ years old), but the rest of the structure was rebuilt.  Roughly 800 CCC members (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Civilian_Conservation_Corps),  under the leadership of archeologists, took on the task during the 1930s.  They have found evidence of 17,000 years of continuous human habitation at this site.  One exhibit contained hundreds of arrow heads, arranged in chronological order.  Who knew you could trace the development of a people via hundreds of arrow heads? 

No one knows the purpose of this particular mound.  Some of the artwork reminded me of similar carvings we’d seen in Mexico and one archeologist had wondered whether there might have been a connection between the two civilizations at some point in time.  The mound might have been used for religious or political purposes.  There are 47 seats molded into the hard earth of the floor, in a semicircular pattern.  From the door, around each side, to the center, each seat is slightly larger and higher.  Three seats are directly across from the door.  These are on a platform.  In front of these seats, still part of the platform, is an eagle with a forked eye. Twice each year, rays from the rising sun shine directly through the door and tunnel to the center seat.

Native Americans who came later did not use these mounds, but they revered them.  This area, around this set of mounds, was held against the “Americans” until the very end.  In 1825, a Creek chief signed the land away to the state of Georgia.  The federal government declared the treaty illegal, but Georgia ignored this ruling.  The chief, whose cousin was the governor of Georgia, was murdered (assassinated or executed, depending on which account you read). 

This park was an oasis – acres of green meadow and forest in the midst of urban sprawl.  If it had not been for the National Park Service, this site, along with its history and culture, would have been lost to railroads, factories, and housing developments.

We left the visitor center parking lot the safe way.  We ignored all the “one-way” signs and chose roads that would allow us to exit with our rig intact.  I vowed that we would not try this again without a close examination of satellite pictures of parking lots and access roads!  The rest of our journey to Cartersville was remarkably uneventful.

Day #138 – Jimmy Carter NHS

Cordele GA

Today we drove over to Plains, Georgia, to visit the Jimmy Carter National Historic Site (http://www.nps.gov/jica/index.htm).  We passed fields, newly planted with the red soil so evident and orchards of pecan trees, just starting to green up.

We started at his school, which serves as the visitor center.  There were restored and furnished classrooms that looked so much like classrooms from my childhood.  There were tributes to the people who had influenced Mr. Carter during his growing up.  There was also an exhibit documenting Rosalynn Carter’s life.  The largest exhibit was devoted to educating us about the Carter Center (http://www.cartercenter.org/homepage.html and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carter_Center) , located in Atlanta.

Quoting directly from the Carter Center web site, “The Carter Center, in partnership with Emory University, is guided by a fundamental commitment to human rights and the alleviation of human suffering; it seeks to prevent and resolve conflicts, enhance freedom and democracy, and improve health.”

After touring the school and its exhibits, we drove to Mr. Carter’s boyhood home, just outside town.  We enjoyed wandering around the farm.  We found mules and ponies in a pasture, a machine used for grinding sugar cane, big pots used to boiling the cane syrup down into sugar, and grindstones.  We toured the house where his family lived and the cabin where the resident sharecroppers lived.  All these were narrated by Mr. Carter himself.  When he was growing up, his best friends were the children of the sharecroppers.  And, when his parents were out of town, it was the sharecroppers who took him in and cared for him.  He told the story of his first realization that these people were treated differently by society.  It was clear that his childhood shaped his values and his adult actions.

Did you know that Mr. Carter’s daddy was a tennis buff?  There, in the back yard, was a clay court.  When the family finally got indoor plumbing, they rigged a bucket – with holes - in a shower stall.  Everyone was so happy to be able to take a shower that they did not mind the cold water.  Well, that’s how the story goes.

Mr. Carter’s childhood ambition was to attend Annapolis and join the Navy.  After graduating high school, he attended two years at other schools before being admitted to the Naval Academy.  During his service, he worked to design nuclear submarines.  When his father died, he left the Navy to take on the family farming business.  He saw all the good his father had done for the community and thought he had a responsibility to continue that work.  He and Rosalynn were so poor during that time that they lived in subsidized housing.

Plains is a very small town.  On Sunday afternoon, there is no where to eat.  We were politely advised that folks in this town eat at their own homes, or those of friends.  We visited an antique shop and then an old general store that sold all things political – no matter your opinion, you could find it on a button, bumper sticker, mug, or shot glass.

This day was such a joy.  We realized that every park we’d been to, up to today, had been some sort of memorial to dead people.  While it’s important to learn our history, it was such a relief to celebrate the living.