Volume 1 Issue 3 Kitchen Drawer Illustrated by Kitchen Drawer Illustrated

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Volume 1 NO. 3

150

Sesquicentennial Anniversary of the Bailey-Tebault House 1859-2009 40 th Anniversary of the Griffin Spalding Historical Society 1969-2009

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TH E B A I L E Y -TE B A U LT H O U S E Saturday, October 24, 2009 F E ATUR I NG

S ILEN T A UCTION , D I N NER & D A NCI NG *Black Tie Optional

The Celebration Gala Committee

K atie Mouchet Inglis Chairperson of The Celebration Gala Committee

Miranda Dender Leslie Kinnett Kay Landham Carrie Higdon

Shannon Doughtie Marie Knight Tracy Mabbett Ann Walker

Sarah Jones Janet Ogletree Stephanie Manley Jan Whalen

Paula Jones Liz Powers Sarahbeth Rahn Melanie Feltman

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From left to right: Judy Purser, Tanya Clark, Lindsey Grubbs, Tara Mendias, Jenni Scott, Erin Helton, Tiffani Walker, Alison Talbot, Betsy Crane. Not pictured: Katie Smith, Shelly Kendrick, Suidayna Taylor, and Ivy Cleveland.

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Cover and Table of Contents photography courtesy of:

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Model Release:

Seth Philpott www.sethphilpott.com

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Volume 1 NO. 3

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Whether a short visit or an extended stay, our four-legged friends will always have a place to hang their collar.

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Reptile Defender Jason Clark When he was seven years old, Jason Clark found a snake while playing in the back yard. His father assured him it was a harmless garter snake, and that’s all young Jason needed to hear. A short while later, Jason ran inside to his mother, excitedly displaying both hands bloodied from the nine bites delivered by his beleaguered snake. He wasn’t afraid; he was f illed with wonder and delight. Jason had discovered his f irst love.

By the time Jason was 14, he was the “expert” to contact when local 911 operators got a call about a rattlesnake curled up in an armchair or an escaped boa constrictor sunning on someone’s porch. He was too young to drive, so Jason’s long-suffering parents took him on calls where he had to coax reluctant reptiles from wherever they had unwittingly trespassed the boundaries of human habitation. Jason, already passionate about his cause, founded and named Southeastern Reptile Rescue with the prospect of someday being the premier reptile recovery and educational group in the Southeast region. Jason performed his first reptile show for a school project in 9th grade at what was then Spalding Junior High School. It was so popular that the school asked him to do another show, which was taped and then shown to the whole school. Most of the time, though, Jason had to beg people to let him bring a few of his crawly critters to a special event. And most of the time, the answer was a definite “no.” But then Teamon Road Baptist Church had an event where they agreed to pay Jason a whopping $25 to display some turtles and an iguana, along with a baby wild boar and a goat. And then the Sunbridge Nursing Home paid him $15 to entertain their residents with a few of his slithery friends.

When Jason was dating his future wife, Sarah, she informed him that there would be no snakes after the wedding. Jason, of course, set out to reconcile his two loves. He gave Sarah the gift of a beautiful baby California King Snake to raise in her own apartment – only Jason came over to do all the

feeding and care. As he hoped, Sarah grew attached to the snake, as she already was to Jason. Sarah ended up as imbedded in the reptile world as her husband and began helping him with the few reptile shows that he could manage to schedule. The next major breakthrough in Jason’s career was when a local doctor asked him how much he would charge to bring a few snakes to his reptile-loving son’s birthday party? Jason took a deep breath and said, “One-hundredfifty dollars.” When the doctor didn’t flinch, Jason excitedly called Sarah, “This doctor’s going to pay us one-hundred-fifty dollars to show our snakes to some kids!” Now Jason’s private shows bring in $350 plus mileage, and they can barely keep up with demand.

Why reptiles? Jason loves animals of all sorts. But reptiles get a really bad rap. “Most people,” Jason notes, “think the only good snake is a dead snake. I figure that if I can get people to change their minds about reptiles, it’ll be easier for them to like all other kinds of animals.” Jason thinks of himself as a sort of reptile criminal defender. “The jury has already heard all the bad things about my ‘clients,’ so I challenge what they think they know about snakes and hopefully change their attitude about them.”

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Jason’s educational method engenders a strong respect for the power of reptiles, while at the same time challenges others to face their fears. For example, Jason says that the key to being comfortable with handling snakes is to get bitten (by a nonvenomous snake, of course). Jason’s mom, Jane, had come a long way since the garter snake incident and was now assisting with Jason’s shows, but she still wasn’t comfortable with the snakes. So Jason set her up with an eastern king snake. Jason had rescued “Faye” after the unfortunate reptile had its back broken with a shovel by an excited farmer. Jason nursed her back to health, but the snake was never a great fan of humans after that. During a show at Bass Pro Shop, Jason asked his mom to put Faye back in her box, knowing the snake might have other plans. Faye bit Jason’s mother right at the base of her thumb and hung on. Jason’s mom, not wanting to alarm the audience, turned her back to them and said urgently, in a low voice, “I’m bit, Jason! Jason, I’m bit!” Always looking for an opportunity to educate, Jason responded quickly by grabbing his mom’s arm and twirling her around to face the audience, surly snake still dangling from her hand. “This is what a snake bite looks like,” he informed his stunned audience. While Jason and Sarah conduct their educational reptile shows, they remain on call to rescue reptiles and run a

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corresponding reptile adoption and fostering program. Jason smiles when remembering an anxious call from a woman who wanted Jason to come out right away to remove a lizard from under her shed. Jason patiently explained that having a lizard under one’s shed is a very common occurrence in our area and tried to assure the woman by saying, “You’ve probably got a hundred of them out there.” The woman countered, “You don’t understand. If I’ve got a hundred of these out there, I’m moving.” A little while later, Jason’s wife Sarah was hauling a four-and-a-half-foot Nile monitor lizard from under the poor woman’s shed. Luckily for her, it was alone. Often, Jason is called out to rescue reptiles that used to be someone’s pets. People get tired of them or move away, and, rather than try to find a home for these animals, they simply release them outside. These exotic species, left to roam the neighborhood, make for some interesting 911 calls, such as the one made by an elderly woman who called to report a “cobra” curled up in her church shoe. It turned out to be a harmless leucistic rat snake, but the dear lady was relieved to have Jason remove it, nonetheless. Jason Clark’s imposing figure does engender a sense of confidence and security. A Clayton County police officer when he’s not wrangling snakes, Jason is 6’5” tall and 325 pounds. At the time of the interview, he had a small distinct slash on his lower lip where the recalcitrant Faye had leapt up and bit him, and a decidedly chewed-up right arm from a five-foot caiman that bit him while he was instructing his wife in the correct way to tape up a caiman’s mouth for a show (‘Now that was the wrong way!’) Animal Planet decided that they liked the looks of Jason and his family and have just finished filming a six-episode series with him on a year-long contract. Jason and Sarah are excited at the opportunity to take their reptile operation, which now includes Jason’s parents and two little girls, to the national level. We watched Jason in action at the Public Library in Barnesville where about 60 children and their parents filled the room. For one part of the show, Jason laces up knee-high leather boots and instructs the half circle of children sitting on the library floor to move back. He uses

continued on page 10.

his snake hook to remove a thick-bodied cottonmouth from a wooden box and place it on the carpeted floor. The snake quickly adopts its customary coil. Jason uses this snake and, afterward, a hefty Eastern Diamondback Rattlesnake to illustrate an important point. Snakes don’t want to bite us. Jason stomps and clomps around all sides of the coiled serpents, playing the part of a clumsy, oblivious hiker and just barely missing them. The snakes invariably look as if they’re trying to turn themselves invisible, crouching into an even deeper coil. Only when Jason actually presses the rattlesnake with the toe of his boot does the viper strike, leaving a bit of venom that Jason scoops up with an index finger. “Is this poison?” he asks the children. Illustrating the difference between venom and poison (don’t try this at home), Jason sucks the venom off his finger – one dose of which is enough to kill eight grown men. Venom must be injected into the bloodstream to be effective.

“So let’s get rid of all the venomous snakes,” Jason proposes to the fascinated children seated in the library. “Other snakes eat rats. Why not keep those and kill all the dangerous ones?” Jason begins his closing argument. The venom of the Southern Copperhead contains contortrostatin, which has been proven in lab tests to reduce breast cancer tumors by up to 70%. Pygmy Rattlesnake venom provides the protein needed for Integrilin,® a sort of “Super Aspirin” used for heart patients. The aptly named drug, Viperinex, derived from Malayan Pit Viper venom, is effective in dissolving blood clots, showing promise for stroke victims. An enzyme found in cobra venom may provide the key to curing Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s diseases. This is by no means an exhaustive list, and Jason’s point is clear. There is a reason for every creature on this earth. Man, in his perpetual hubris, too often decides which of his fellow creatures are worthy, and which are not. And with that, the defense rests. To schedule a reptile show that you and the kids will never forget, or for a reptile emergency, call Jason at 404.557.2470 or visit Southeastern Reptile Rescue at snakesrus.com. To report a cobra in your church shoe, call 911.

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Photography by Katie Snyder Photography, (404) 683-4963, www.katiesnyderphotography.com

continued from page 9..

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Asher and her sister, Maddie

There was no indication that Asher Lee would be different from any other little girl born on October 5, 1998. When she came into the world, her parents were alarmed that what they saw might indicate a life-threatening condition. Asher’s hands and feet were badly malformed – her fingers and toes were fused together, and her face had not developed normally. She was rushed to Eggleston by ambulance, closely followed by her father, Doug. Asher’s mother, Ondra, having just had a c-section, was left behind in the hospital, helplessly awaiting news of her firstborn. It took 15 minutes for the staff at Eggleston to diagnose Asher’s condition: Apert syndrome – a genetic anomaly affecting 1/160,000-200,000 live births. Apert affects the development of the bones of the hands, feet, and skull. Whereas the skull of a baby is normally composed of eight moveable plates that “pop” into position at birth and grow along with the brain, in a baby with Apert syndrome, those plates are already fused at birth (no “soft spots”). In addition, the bones in the center of her face are likewise fused, while the bone around it grows normally, causing a distinctive appearance in those with Apert – wide-set eyes with a small nose and high or cleft palate. In normal prenatal development, cells between the fingers and toes selectively die, giving us our distinctive digits. With Apert syndrome, that fails to take place, and the hands and feet of the fetus remain paddle-like.

As recently as the 1970s, the prognosis for the mental development or even the lives of children born with Apert was poor, as the brain would not have room to develop normally. Today, a series of craniofacial surgeries can be performed that retroactively create these plates and fill them in with a slow-dissolving plastic that mimics normal cranial development.

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In Asher’s first six years, she underwent six hand surgeries and five craniofacial surgeries. As needed, her parents have also seen to it that Asher received physical therapy, occupational therapy, then speech therapy and tutoring. Asher recently received her third set of ear tubes.

Asher never crawled. The elbow of her right arm does not fully extend, which limited her mobility until she got to her feet. Until the surgeries to separate her fingers, Asher’s pinkie fingers of both hands were her only digits that were not fused, so resourceful little Asher learned to use them expertly – stacking pacifiers on them while holding her bottle with her feet.

Today, Asher has become quite capable with what mobility she has. Fine motor skills continue to present the most trouble – Asher can become frustrated with things like buttons, zippers, belts, and shoes that tie. Ondra has learned to let Asher work through her frustrations to help her learn to do more things independently. She is matter-of-fact about making sure Asher tries to use the scissors or put the straw in her juice box before asking for help. And Ondra is always on the lookout for adaptive tools that help Asher take over more of her personal care, such as a special extension that helps Asher shampoo her own hair, despite her inability to fully extend her elbow. Doug, Ondra, Asher, and little sister Maddie could not look more poised and under control. As with any other challenge life throws at them, Ondra says that the way they face it is to “just do it” – one day at a time. When Asher needs a surgery, they do it. When she needs to be taken to tutoring or speech therapy, they do it. It seems overwhelming only when they consider too much at once. “As long as Ondra doesn’t start really looking at her calendar,” says Doug, “she’s fine.” They have the immediate support of both Doug’s

continued on page 12.

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parents who live right around the corner, and Ondra’s who live in her home town of Forsyth.

Over the years, Ondra has noticed a pattern. When facing a new surgery, she is consummately capable, doing whatever needs to be done for Asher, seeing her through the worst of it. Then, about three weeks later, when all is getting back to normal, Ondra melts down and takes her turn at being fragile. Doug is there to support her, but it’s never long before the determined Ondra is back.

However, the surgeries aren’t the most difficult part of everyday life for the Lees. What bothers them the most when they’re in public is people who just stare at Asher. Both Ondra and Asher would rather a person simply ask about Asher than continue to stare or whisper about her. Sometimes, though, Ondra will notice someone (usually a child) in line behind them at the check-out who is staring at Asher with more concern than curiosity. Ondra has noticed that a gentle, “She’s alright” is reassurance enough. Interestingly, Ondra has used these occasions to teach empathy – to Asher. She reasons with her daughter, “What are you thinking and feeling when you see someone in a wheelchair? You wonder what happened, and you wonder if they’re okay, right? Well, that’s what most people are thinking when they see you. They just hope you’re okay.”

Attending school at Stepping Stones was a great experience for Asher and her family because there they could see that there are other kids with lots of different challenges, and they need to learn to adapt, too. Asher continues to adapt, and is in every other way a typical 10-year-old girl. She enjoys swimming, riding her scooter, playing on the computer, and having sleepovers with her friends. She especially delights in getting her fingernails and toenails professionally polished, and she is well-known among her classmates for her frequent trips to Rubi Nails! We are glad to know Asher. She has much to teach us about candor, courage, and humor in facing whatever it is that we must overcome or accept in our lives, whether others can see it or not.

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2009 Season Review and Preview Taylor J. Gantt

Flying High Once Again

The receiver corps are coming into focus as Roddy White assumes the number-one receiver role, supported by possession WR Michael Jenkins and second-year receiver Harry Douglas. The offensive line will try to continue its efforts from last year, but will have to do so without tackle Todd Weiner, who retired this offseason. Second-year LT Sam Baker will be called upon to fill the void and build upon a solid rookie performance.

Few who scoured over the roster of the 2008 Atlanta Falcons expected more than a dismal and frustrating year of football for the squad. New coach, new GM, rookie quarterback, unproven running back, highly suspect offensive line and defense, not to mention the dark cloud left by the Michael Vick incident, were all factors that critics cited when predicting certain failure for the young birds. But, as you may well know, the Falcons turned the doubt-ridden prophecies into Defense This unit, while not having a terrible year, were quite suspect a reality of stunning success as they fought to an 11-5 record and wild card playoff appearance. Leading the way was the at several key moments last season. Subsequently, almost all dynamic yet sound play of QB Matt Ryan, who showed off of Atlanta’s draft picks this year were spent on defensive specialists. First-round-pick Peria Jerry will his arm strength and decision-making fill the defensive tackle spot with his large abilities constantly throughout the year. body and deceptive speed. The second pick Bulldozing running back Michael “The was spent on safety William Moore who, Burner” Turner proved that he was worth although hampered by injuries in his senior his sizable free agent contract while year, had an outstanding junior campaign making a big name for himself as he ran and will immediately vie for the vacancy for 16,999 yards in 2008. Coupled with left by departing starter Lawyer Milloy. the outstanding play of talented yet Sack-master John Abraham will again inconsistent receiver Roddy White, the anchor the D-line while the coaching staff offense provided enough points to win wait for former first-round pick Jamaal games while the rag-tag defense compeAnderson to mature into a contributor. tently held the opposition in check. This Heavy-hitting second-year middle linebacker outstanding season led to Coach of the Curtis Lofton will help solidify the run Year honors for Mike Smith and GM of defense, while free agent LB Mike Peterson the Year for Thomas Dimitroff as well Photo by Doug Benc/Getty Images North America. replaces long-time Falcon Keith Brooking. as Pro Bowl bids for Michael Turner and In the secondary, CB Chris Houston continues to improve in Roddy White. his coverage skills. Veteran CB Von Hutchins returns to the LOOKING TOWARD 2009... team after a season-ending injury in training camp last year Offense and looks to fill the spot opposite Houston. Mainstay Erik The Falcons’ already powerful offense received an enormous Coleman possesses the first safety spot, while a bevy of young players will be tested in training camp to see who deserves boost with the free agent signing of former Kansas City to play alongside him. Chiefs tight end Tony Gonzalez. Often touted as the best TE to ever play the game, Gonzalez holds the record for After several years of mediocrity and relative obscurity, the most touchdowns at his position in NFL history and has Falcons are once again in the limelight. Only time will tell continued to play high-quality football into his 30s. With if they have what it to takes to maintain the intensity and this addition, the Falcons look to have one of the most potent desire that drove them to success last year and use it to fuel offenses in the league come next season. As Matt Ryan more great football in the 2009/10 season. comes into his own, Michael Turner will continue his good work with the help of fleet-footed RB Jerious Norwood. www.kitchendrawer.net

Paul Conlan Colton Vincent

M J Sharp

Mary Shannon

Slow

Matt Bower

Pictures at an Exhibition

Exposures

by Chris Curry

Brenda Fayard Gary Gruby

Pike County, Georgia September 18-20 & 23-27 www.slowexposures.org Brenda Fayard

(right) Brenda Fayard (right) Brenda Fayard

(right) Brenda Fayard

ack in 2003 what were we thinking? For Pike County, it was the heyday of subdivision development with names that referenced the things that were being dug up and paved over: forests, woods, meadows, trees, and farms. How could we slow it down? A dozen of us had grown up with Life, National Geographic, and the searing photojournalism of the 1960s – we had an abiding belief in the power of a photographic image to move people. We decided we were going to make a photo show. It would grab people’s attention. We hoped that once that happened, it would even do something to still the bulldozers that were taking ever-bigger bites of our beautiful land. We wanted to honor the history of Pike County and its historic old buildings. We named it “Slow Exposures” to call attention to the notion of slowing down to look at the landscape and exposures as a play on a photography term and our intention to reveal the contemporary rural South. Like Columbus, we figuratively set sail, headed west and hoped we’d hit China. In a similar way, we ended up successful – but in a different place than we intended.

opening, it’s dark and very quiet when we get to Pike County. One of our favorite judges, Sylvia Plachy from New York City discovered, to her dismay, that her accommodations in a 100-year-old log cabin didn’t have a deadbolt on the front door. Then, the magic of the place took over. With her photographer’s eye she made out the solid, undulating mass of black heifers grazing in the moonlit pecan orchard in the front yard. She was charmed. When we saw her newest book, we realized our place reminded her of the rural countryside of her native Hungary. We temporarily lose some of our jurors during the time they spend with us. A Tennessee transplant, Celina Lunsford who came to us via her long-term career in Germany discovered The Sock Shoppe on her rambles. Others, like photographers Birney Imes of Mississippi and Mike Smith of Tennessee ramble off into the countryside and see our familiar landmarks with fresh perspectives. Jurors not-from-here like Jamie Allen of the Eastman House in Rochester, New York and Julian Cox of London eat Southern food served by wait staff with southern accents in the high humidity of late September, and they fall in love with our place. Many return year after year to be a part of the experience, in no small part because of the corps of volunteer hosts and hostesses who welcome them.

The show is now in its seventh year and scheduled, as always, for the last two weeks in September. That first year we garnered 188 images from 40 photographers – and many of those who entered were our spouses, our cousins, and anyone we knew who might have snapped a photo with their Brownie camera Each year, we pair two jurors – usually one since 1900. We were surprised – some of the from the South and the second from outside the images were extraordinary – both from our local region. Their first get-to-know-you task is to folks and from well-known photographers who pick a show of between 70 and 90 photographs entered from all over the South. Our first jurors Chandra Harris from the hundreds of images entered every year. were Pike County resident artist Pat Hankins They get a computer disc crafted by volunteer Paul Conlan and photographer Jan Fields, director of The Showcase Show that includes an average of 600 images and titles – it’s done in Atlanta. They really set the precedent for future judges this way to ensure that the famous or the familiar are not as they chose 77 images that would make up our show. They given more weight, however unintentional, than the new did it for free. And they took it personal and got excited and the unknown. The images that grace the show every about the project. year are a product of this collaborative process – each show In subsequent years, our jurors have come from all over the is personal, unique, and always a little bit controversial. United States and Europe. They are museum curators and Every show has a couple of images that people stand in front founders, famous photographers, nationally known collectors, of and shake their heads in bewilderment. Often, those are eminent teachers, and lecturers. They all do it for free, too. the prize winners. Imagine a photograph where several rather When we would call up strangers whose names we saw in dusty trophy turkeys are shown in the dim light of a smallmuseums and national publications, we discovered that the town taxidermy shop...a sepia image of an elderly black photography world is filled with generous, creative people man, in baggy, khaki work clothes, face obscured by a giant whose idea of compensation isn’t always cash. We think they sunflower plant…an entrepreneurial, homegrown preacher do it for the excitement of seeing new work from emerging sitting on an old couch, surrounded by a bewildering array photographers. They are intrigued with an exhibition that of hand-lettered and mass-produced Bible verses and now draws over 600 entries every year. advertisements for tent revivals. When we pick up our jurors at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport late on the night before the show continued on page 16. www.kitchendrawer.net

continued from page 15.

Every show has its favorites. We decided to make this official with a “People’s Choice” award. Every person who walks through the front door gets to vote on their favorite picture. On the last Sunday of the show, we announce the winner. So far, we notice a fondness for the familiarity of small towns of memory, old and noble faces of character, and landscapes. From the first show…a back-lit, smoky image of a mighty barbeque maestro. Or the serene cerulean greens, blues, and tawny textures of a springtime swamp bank, reflected in the still water. A lean, grizzled cowboy shaves by the rear-view mirror of his truck. The People’s Choice prize does not reward ambiguity or criticism about the rural South.

There are other images that provoke the viewer and comment on resistance to change, intolerance, and the homogenization of our culture. These photographs include a stark in-your-face depiction of a cheerless, treeless, ultra-straight subdivision street, with uniform mailboxes placed at the edge of straight, paved driveways. Or, three generations of a family dressed in KKK robes. Another shows a slouching young woman with pierced eyebrows, cigarette in hand, looking defiantly at the camera.

Breanne Sanders

Brenda Fayard

Every year, the proceeds from the show go to the preservation of Pike County’s historic buildings. Our “home” has been the Strickland Center in Concord, a grand old dame of a structure that serves as a unique backdrop for this most modern medium. It’s also the traditional site of our annual SlowExposures Ball. Because Strickland’s is undergoing a much-deserved facelift, the main show will hang at the Candler Field Museum in Williamson from Friday, September 18 through Sunday, September 27. For those two weeks photography events will be scheduled all over the area, including a satellite show entitled “the phoDOGraphy show” at the Whiskey Bonding Barn in Molena, a full-day Landscape Photography workshop with Tim Barnwell at Towerhouse Farm in Gay, Georgia, a solo show of nature

Brenda Fayard

Many of the photographs reward the viewer by conjuring up memories of growing up in the rural South. There are old trucks, old houses, pictures that tell stories about people we know in every small town, and breathtaking images of our southern landscape from the Appalachians to the bayous of Louisiana. Many tell stories, as in the unforgettable “Sandman Shot His Dog” where an anguished, silent working man holds his bird dog in his arms. (We were relieved when the photographer told us the dog turned out to be OK). The show is also committed to reaching out to our young residents through the Student Exhibition. There is an annual theme, a panel of jurors, and a chance to win ribbons, impressive trophies, and cash prizes. Visitors say they enjoy this exhibit as much as the main one. Indeed, the interpretations of themes such as “The Four Freedoms of America,” “My Favorite Place,” or this year’s “The World of Color” provide a remarkable glimpse into the minds and spirits of our children. After the show ends, over the course of several weeks, Anna Evans can be found in every school building, 16

moving the 8x4 panels that display images entered by Pike Country students. The show has been around long enough to have produced fresh crops of young adults who have been successfully juried into the “big show.” This year, Colton Vincent, one of these “graduates,” will contribute a limitededition print of a local scene that will be available for purchase at the show.

Brenda Fayard

photography at A Novel Experience in Zebulon, and the Jurors Talk and SlowExposures Ball at the Candler Field Museum. Information on these events, times and directions to the sites can be found at www.slowexposures.org.

Along our journey to this year’s seventh show, we’ve noticed something intriguing – many local photographers, from Griffin, Pike County, and Thomaston get selected in far greater numbers than the area’s number of entries would suggest. Is it because the picture takers have an intimate knowledge of and affinity for the land? Have our local folks absorbed some lessons about fine art photography by coming to the show for the past six years? Do they take advantage of the free and fee-based photography lectures, workshops, and Jurors Talks to hone their craft? Probably. We also hope that our original strategy of reminding our neighbors to slow down and really see our land is working its magic and that once the economy calls forth the bulldozers again, perhaps there will be a pause, and a newly-rediscovered respect for the land. ( 7 7 0 ) 4 1 2 -‐ 0 4 4 1

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This is an exciting time for martial arts in Griffin. The two primary schools in Griffin, Elite Martial Arts Academy and Premier Martial Arts have combined to form Championship Martial Arts (CMA). The school offers improved instruction and curriculum, and is soon to have a fabulous new studio. We have classes for children as young as four years old. The children’s classes teach them the physical skills used in karate, but with a constant emphasis on the “Black Belt Values” of modesty, courtesy, integrity, respect, confidence, self-respect, perseverance, focus, and positive attitude. These values, when combined with the physical skills we teach, help develop some very important life skills, such as leadership, teamwork, self-confidence, self-control, balance and coordination, bully prevention, stranger awareness, poise in front of audiences, listening skills, ability to follow directions, study skills, and goal setting. We also have teen and adult classes. Both offer training with a different focus than the classes for children. We give age-appropriate instruction to the older students on how to remain safe on the streets. We include the Black Belt Values and work on life skills, but the focus is on training them to remain safe if attacked by an aggressor. We train in the studio and then take it to the street to train in life-like situations. The training includes a mix of martial art styles. We use an American-style karate, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, and various forms of weapons defense. This training is so effective that we have law enforcement officers taking the class. Anyone can gain from the program, even for a limited time. For that reason, we also offer seminars on self-defense and limited-term self-defense programs (generally 6 to 10 weeks). In some cases, these are open to the general public. In others, private groups request their own specialized seminar. Another great need provided by CMA is a transported After School Program. CMA picks up from many of the Spalding and Pike County schools. The program includes all the benefits of a martial arts program with the convenience of school pick-up at no additional charge.

Championship Martial Arts Evening Program 1607 Williamson Road, Griffin R 770.228.6159 Championship Martial Arts After School Program 410 East Taylor Street, Griffin R 770.467.8781

We grew up having food on the table because my father worked hard and was courageous enough to start his own business. It is not only natural but perhaps poetic that four of his sons now feed their families by operating the same company that he started some 40 years ago. The work we have chosen is hard. It’s physically demanding. It’s economically challenging these days. I’ll stop there because the statement the “Concrete is a tough business” doesn’t require much qualifying. So why have my brothers and I picked this as our vocation? Complicating the question is the fact that my brothers are so talented at different ta bet Sci on & Aar Stephen, Matthew, Joseph things. Matthew was a tennis instructor for years and excelled at it. Aaron was playing classical piano as a child and has years of college education in music theory and composition. Joseph came to work with us after being educated and employed with computer-aided design in a nice air-conditioned office. Every working day the four of us get up early and face the elements and work incredibly hard and come home dirty and tired. Why? First, because we get to work incredibly hard – together. With the amount of time modern people have to spend “at work,” we don’t take it for granted that we get to work with people we love. Second, concrete is amazing. It is rewarding and fun to spend just a few days transforming a space for decades to come. My brothers and I often drive by and point at projects we did when we were kids working summers with our dad. The work holds up as well as our memories. Concrete is also versatile. We are creative people, and a product that can be molded into almost anything you want with the right techniques gives us room for tremendous artistic expression. We work for nice folks. We like to think that our customers care that we are enjoying life. I know they care about the finished product. Our work shows how much we love what we do, and that’s good for everyone.

Wayne Boggs & Mike Sci bet

Stephen Scibetta R designconcrete R 770.227.8452 R 770.480.5789 mobile R 800.660.7047 fax R www.dcatl.com

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Becoming a business owner of any kind was the furthest thing from Gina Nicholas’s mind, never mind a gymnastics/cheerleading business. Gina had graduated from dental hygiene school in 1992 and practiced for 10 years. She married Tony in 1995, and when their first child was born in 1997, Gina decided to become a stay-at-home mom, which she did for the next 10 years. Her 11-year-old daughter Mia became interested in competition cheerleading about two years ago, and she is the reason Gina pursued this path. Although Gina frequently reminds people to “be careful what you ask for because you just might get it,” she also says, “God has blessed my family abundantly in many ways, and Legion of Allstars is just one of those ways.” Gina, along with her husband Tony, bought the local gymnastics/cheerleading facility in Griffin on May 1, 2008, and renamed it Legion of Allstars (LOA). Tony Nicholas had already been a successful businessman in Griffin for over 15 years. He owns and operates Ellis Chiropractic Clinic and is co-owner of Louise’s Cafeteria. The gym has tripled in attendance since May 2008, and continues to grow. LOA’s ultimate vision is to create champions inside and outside the gym by developing a premier facility with the help of a certified and qualified staff. The goal is to teach teamwork and sportsmanship, develop self-confidence, and maintain good physical health. Legion of Allstars specializes in many programs, beginning with tumbling classes which set the tone for their LOA cheer program as well as many school and recreational programs in and around Griffin. The All-Star Cheerleading program is composed of boys and girls of all ages and skill levels. Characterized by the high level of progression in their team’s skill and abilities, LOA’s eight-time collegiate National Championship cheer coaches know what it takes to help get these young athletes into college with a scholarship. Recreational, pre-school, and parent & tot gymnastics are a few of the other programs LOA offers for children of all ages to enjoy safe athletic training. The mission of these programs is to let each child learn at their own pace and strive to achieve their personal best. LOA’s newest program has created a great deal of excitement amongst the coaches and athletes. It’s called the Junior Olympic Program, where certified coaches select gymnasts to be on a competition team. This will be the first Competition Gymnastics team Griffin has had in over eight years. The athletes train in the gym based on their level and are dedicated and disciplined about developing their athletic skills. Gina and Tony pride themselves in having a family-oriented gym where a high level of morality and good ethics are paramount. They employ some of the best cheerleading, tumbling, and gymnastic instructors in the South who uphold the same vision and a standard of coaching that is evident in the quality of their technique and services. LOA’s staff members are: Carlos Colon (cheer director/tumbling coach), Jonathan Tuggle (cheer/tumbling coach), Jodi Mathews (gymnastics director/team coach), Trina Blythe (gymnastics/team coach), Kimberly Walker (gymnastics/cheer coach), Jordan Slaughter (hip-hop coach), and Amy Parker (webmaster/personal assistant). “Among the many there are few, among the few there is you”…B E A L EGIONEER !!

Legion of Allstars R 1715 Highway 16 West R Griffin R 770.412-0033 R www.legionofallstars.com

Destin Smith, owner and operator of Directory South Inc., was born and raised in Griffin. He lives in Barnesville with his wife, Jessie Butler-Smith, stepson Christian Cox, and son Gage. Destin started Directory South, the publishers of the red telephone directory with the large print, in 2001. It is now the oldest independently owned and operated directory in the area. Directory South mails directories to every home, business, and P.O. Box in Griffin, Barnesville, Forsyth, Jackson, Monticello, and Zebulon. They provide local phone books that are easy for consumers to use, but cost less for advertisers. In addition, Directory South packages ads to give their customers more ads under more headings, helping to maximize their return on investment. Directory South is a member of six Chambers of Commerce and is very active in the communities they serve. Directory South is located at 12 Zebulon Street in Barnesville. Their sales representatives would love to show you how you can make you money with them. Remember the Directory South slogan: “We can hook you up, so they can look you up!” They are a small company with big-company service. Visit them on the web at www.directorysouthinc.com. In 2007, the entrepreneur bug bit Destin again, and he entered into a partnership with Clint Lance to form Buck Ridge Properties, an investment and rental property company. To advertise with Directory South or lease a residential or commercial property, contact Destin at 770-358-5955.

Directory South R 12 Zebulon Street R Barnesville R 770.358.5955 R www.directorysouthinc.com

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Field Trials by Randy Schultz

“Whoa! Doggone it!” George yelled from 50 yards away at the big, white and lemon-ticked pointer. The dog’s tail was pointed ramrod straight; his head was stretched all the way out, and he was quivering with excitement. Like any good bird dog, Buck did what he did because he loved it. He was the result of 200 years of genetic crossbreeding and engineering. He was the life support system for that incredible nose of his. He was the pride and joy of his owner and handler. But, right at this moment, Buck was easing up a little bit on the scent left in the grass by a quail that George hid there earlier. It’s called “creeping,” and it’s not a good thing when it comes to bird dogs. Buck was young, only six months old, and he was still learning the game. About 90 percent of what he was doing was innate, genetic memory. He would catch the scent of a bird and freeze, or “point,” and wait until George shot the bird. Then he would pick it up and bring it back, hand it to the hunter and then take off again in search of another bird. (Of course, volumes are written about those two sentences and all the “what-ifs” in between!) But, those are the basics and Buck would learn and master them all.

George lives in Pike County. Growing up, he would head out the back door for a two-hour romp through the fields with his dog and shotgun. Typically, he would flush 5-10 covies of quail and shoot maybe 5 or 6 birds and be home for dinner. Things have changed over the years for George and every other bird hunter around here. Farming changed, land use changed and people changed. Now, it’s rare to hear the “Bob White” whistle in June and even rarer still to have a place to put a dog on the ground and hunt. Many hunters have taken to traveling to parts of the country where it’s still okay to knock on the door of a farmhouse and ask to hunt. But that method is time-consuming and expensive. For those who love the bird dog and love to hunt, another outlet is the Field Trial. It was a natural extension of the competitive spirit of outdoorsmen that fostered the idea of competing with

bird dogs. Field Trials are merely the formalization of that game. The National Shoot to Retrieve Association (NSTRA) format is simple. While two competitors are seated in a “blind” – out of sight of the field, five quail are hidden in a large field. At the start of each 30-minute brace, the handlers and the dogs are called out, the dogs are turned loose, and two judges (one for each dog) follow and score each dog. Dogs are scored on how well they find the bird, retrieve the bird, obey the handler, cover the ground and honor the points of their bracemate. After 30 minutes, another two handlers and dogs go at it again. At the end of the day, the highest-scoring dog wins and is awarded points toward his Championship (for more info: www.nstra.org).

There are many Field Trial types to choose from – horseback trials, AKC hunt tests, Bird Dog Challenge trials and NSTRA Trials, to name a few. In this area, we are lucky to be home to several fine NSTRA Field Trial grounds. Off Birdie Rd. (north of Griffin) is a fine club, with excellent training grounds and dedicated men and women who love to hone the skills of their dogs. On Shackleford Rd., in northern Pike County, lives another competitor who opens up his farm for competitions. Also, off of Etheridge Mill Rd., near Milner, there is another fine club.

Meanwhile, George and Buck are getting ready for the season, which starts in late September and continues through March. Buck will be ready, George trusts. As he walks up to Buck, smoothes his hand along his back and whispers “Whoa, boy; good boy!” the quail explodes out of a shrub 10 yards from Buck’s nose, and Buck stands like a marble statue and watches the bird sail off into the woods. “Oh, yeah,” George thinks to himself, “You boys better be ready this September! I’ve got a good one. This one can go all the way.” Randy Schultz lives in Pike County and has three bird dogs. Julia’s Bocephus (“Bo” – English Setter) is a NSTRA Champion and Quail Unlimited 2001 National Champion. Julia’s Southern Peach (Peaches) and Julia’s Flyboy Ace (Ace) round out his kennels. Randy enjoys hunting and field trialing and writing about the adventures of his dogs around the country (randy@schultzfarm.com).

Randy Schultz and his beloved Bo

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Lost & Found TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY

hink about a baby learning to speak and walk. That baby will learn quickly and, once these skills are mastered, probably will not have to be taught again. Now imagine being 20 years old and having to learn how to brush your teeth again. Imagine having to learn how to speak or walk again. Though it was easy to learn when you were a baby, imagine having to relearn and relearn, again and again. Imagine having difficulty remembering the steps to tasks as simple as making your bed or forgetting the face of your very best friend. All of this is very real for people who suffer from Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI). About 1.5 million people sustain a brain injury every year in the United States. In fact, 50 percent of car accidents in Spalding County alone result in TBI. And, an alarming 82 percent of those do not receive the help that they need. Mark Huey, a man who knows all too well about TBI, and his wife, Sharon, started a support group after Mark sustained serious TBI in a head-on collision caused by the recklessness of another driver. This support group was called Lost and Found.

Huey explains, “When I had my injury and accident on December 5th, 2003, I was in a 30-day coma. [When I woke] I felt like I was lost and then been found, and that is when I decided to start the brain injury group.” Brain injury is a life-altering tragedy. However, most people look at TBI in much the same way as a broken arm. Most believe, like the broken arm, TBI will heal and everything will be normal again. John Burks, a member of Lost and Found, says, however, that is far from the truth. He stresses that brain injury is a life sentence. He also mentions that even though people with TBI strive to get things back to normal, this can never be the “old normal” but rather a “new normal.” That person will be changed forever, along with their relationships with friends and family. This often results in a larger problem, possibly larger than the injury itself. The problem is social isolation. When the injured isolate themselves from family and friends, it slows down their healing process and even deepens the depression that is usually present. They also often undergo personality changes that present extremely difficult adjustments for both the injured person and their close relatives and friends.

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BY MORGANNE MANN

Burks stresses that each brain injury is unique and different. “How many people do you know that think alike?” he asks. Just as everyone has a unique mind, each brain injury manifests itself differently from individual to individual. Part of this is dependent on the circumstances surrounding the injury. For example, Burks injured the left side of his brain falling from his third-floor balcony, but another person may acquire a brain injury by consuming too much alcohol. The latter case is not a brain injury caused by trauma but is an acquired brain injury (ABI), caused by a prolonged lack of oxygen to the brain and thus producing a different set of brain injury symptoms. ABI may also be caused by heart attack, surgery, or infectious disease and differs in the fact that it can occur without losing consciousness or presenting tangible evidence such as external bruising or a positive result on a CAT scan or skull x-ray.

Lost and Found knows that each injury is unique and they work with each individual as well as together in large groups. Not only does Lost and Found support each of its members mentally and emotionally, but the group also supports its members financially. Because TBI victims are generally not a vocal group, another serious problem they face is lack of funding. The government does not focus on TBI as much as it may focus on such neural disorders as Muscular Dystrophy or Cerebral Palsy, even though TBI victims easily outnumber people suffering with these disorders. In order to get the funding its members need, the group enjoys doing fundraisers to support the group members. They also enjoy blessing others with the money from fundraisers. They recently raised $700 by doing a car wash for the Fisher House to support military families. Huey recalls it as being one of the most bonding experiences the Lost and Found group has experienced. Sharon Huey regrets that people usually wait several months or even years before they seek out the Lost and Found group. Lost and Found wishes to reach out and be known by each and every person in the area with a serious brain injury. If you are interested in learning more about Lost and Found, they welcome you to look them up at www.lostandfoundtbi.org. They also welcome your questions and comments. Simply click the “Contact Us” button in the top left corner of the site and leave your comments.

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(770) 233-2901 acausey@cityofgriffin.com

t"OOVJUJFT t-POH 5FSN $BSF t%JTBCJMJUZ *OTVSBODF Tim Furlow, CLU, ChFC 207 East Taylor Street Griffin, Georgia 30224 timfurlow@bellsouth.net

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( 7 7 0 ) 4 1 2 -â&#x20AC;? 0 4 4 1

by John Sell

Citizens to Promote Pike County (CTPP) was founded about ten years ago when some residents of Pike County were displeased with the direction in which their County was headed with development of land. This well-organized group helped influence some of the cookiecutter developments that were becoming common within Pike County. The group brought in highly recognized planners who knew how to preserve the rural-living experience in the face of development demands that accompany relatively cheap land and that have led to sprawl from the metro Atlanta area. This group was instrumental in the adoption of new codes, including the recent Conservation Subdivision regulations. CTPP recognized quickly that one of the best ways to realize change was to do more than just talk about the need for change; rather, they became active in seeking change. Members of this committee submitted their names and received many key appointments to boards within Pike County. Currently, three of the five members of the Pike County Planning Commission are CTPP members.

As CTPP continued to grow, the group saw a need for scholarships to be given to local residents to promote education in planned growth and conservation of rural land. These scholarship monies are not limited to college students but are available to anyone – from middle-school students to those who have completed

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school. CTPP realizes the importance of promoting the education of young people who have a desire to pursue careers in farming sustainability. The group has solicited Pike County Schools to ask for help in identifying students who may want to enroll in agricultural programs through the University of Georgia and other colleges.

CTPP also has a strong desire to help those who want to pursue a career in various areas of landscape architecture and community planning. They feel that helping these people will lead to better living in any community where they may find themselves and ultimately will serve to help preserve the rural country that is quickly being eroded.

In the last issue of Kitchen Drawer (Vol. 1, No. 2), we highlighted one of CTPP’s major fundraising events, the CTPP Fishing Tournament. Due to popular demand, the next tournament will be held on Oct. 3-4, 2009, with a fish-off on Oct. 10. If you might be interested in participating in this or next year’s tournament, please contact Tony Watkins at tonytiger434@yahoo.com, and your name will be added to the database so that CTPP can contact you for this exciting event.

Also, anyone interested in making a contribution to the CTPP scholarship funds can contact Tony Watkins for more information. All donations are tax deductible.

Sunday

Monday

Tuesday

Wednesday

Thursday

Friday

Saturday 1

Adopt-a-Pet

Back to School

PetSmart (McDonough)

Pike|Spalding| Lamar

Pike County Lunch & Learn

Governmental Affairs Meeting

Storm Cellar Concert

Back-to-School Bash City Park

*ULIÀQ Safehouse Coffee Welcome Center 7:00 PM 7:30 AM

Resource Center

1:00-4:00 PM

Tax Free Weekend

11:30 AM

*ULIÀQ +LJK Reunion (Class of 1959)

The 32nd National Bikers RoundUp | Atlanta Motor Speedway | August 4th-9th

11 Story Time

10 Meet & Greet &LW\ RI *ULIÀQ

Mother/Daugther Junior Guild Tea Party

Liberty Technology

American Legion Auxillary Meeting

8:00 AM

Women’s Clubhouse Barnesville 3:00 PM

2:00 PM

18Millie the Dog 19

Artisans’ Guild RI *ULIÀQ Meeting

Business 2 Business Connection

2:00 PM

Children’s Reading The Next Chapter 4:00 PM

LEAF Committee Meeting

15 Music on the Square Downtown McDonough 7:00 PM

5:30 PM

Women’s Council Meeting

21 FREE Movie Friday

22 *ULIÀQ Farmers’ Market

Rio Vista Resturant 'RZQWRZQ *ULIÀQ Wachovia Building 12:00 PM Parking Deck 8:00 PM 9:00 AM – 12:00 PM 2009 Members’

Showcase

Art Show

Boys & Girls Club *ULIÀQ 30

A Novel Experience

Ribbon Cutting Open Mic Night

Safehouse Coffee UGA Student Safehouse Coffee Learning Center 8:00 PM 8:00 PM

*ULIÀQ HJ Wings & Things Welcome Center (Pike)

Business After Hours Greer Insurance *ULIÀQ 5:00 PM

Bailey-Tebault House

Barnesville Library 11:00 AM

7:00 PM – 9:00 PM

Spalding Historical Society Low Country Boil Bailey-Tebault House

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Sunday

Monday

Tuesday

Wednesday

Thursday 3

Friday 4

5 Spalding YV *ULIÀQ Football

Citizens’ Government Academy 2009

2QH *ULIÀQ &HQWHU Memorial Statium 6:30 PM

NASCAR Race Weekend

Lamar County Commissioners Meeting

Atlanta Motor Spreedway

Lamar Courthouse

(Hampton)

7:00 PM

10 Board of LEAF Committee Meeting

Business 2 Business Connection

*ULIÀQ Welcome Center 2:00 PM

7:30 PM

11 School House Rock

2:00 PM

9:00 AM – 12:00 PM

Farm Heritage Day

Wachovia Building Parking Deck 9:00 AM – 12:00 PM

Business After Hours

Wachovia Building Parking Deck

*ULIÀQ Farmers’ Market Camelot Theatre

Crumb Crazy Pike Co. 5:30 PM

*ULIÀQ Farmers’ Market

Directors’ Meeting *ULIÀQ :HOFRPH Center 10:30 AM

Saturday

19 One Town, One Goal Play Day

Open Mic Night Courthouse Lawn Zebulon

Elementary Science Enrichment Center

Turner Park

7:00 PM

10:00 AM

5:00 PM

Buggy Days

Adopt-a-Pet

Operation Thank You Boot Camp

PetSmart (McDonough)

Artisans’ Guild RI *ULIÀQ Meeting

1:00-4:00 PM

Safehouse Coffee

Pike County Chamber

8:00 PM

12:00 PM

Barnesville

Slow Exposure Exhibit 12:00 – 7:00 PM

Presidio Brass *ULIÀQ $UHD Concert Association

Slow Exposure Exhibit

Slow Exposure Ball

12:00 – 8:00 PM

7:00 – 11:00 PM

Slow Exposure | Peach State Aerodrome

Slow Exposure Exhibit

Artisans’ Guild RI *ULIÀQ Meeting

1:00 – 5:00 PM

Safehouse Coffee

Gordon College Auditorium

8:00 PM

7:30 PM

Twelve Angry Jurors

1:00 – 5:00 PM

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( 7 7 0 ) 4 1 2 -‐ 0 4 4 1

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VENT

RELease your inner monologue

It’s good for kids to ride bikes, but why do they have to ride right in front of my car? Please tell your kids to pick a darn side and stay on that side of the street. It’s unsafe and annoying for the kids to ride their bikes right in the middle of the street! UGH!

Summer colds and viruses...do they not take vacations?!?

My utility bill “IT’S NOT MY FAULT!” -arggghhh – passing the buck.

Ther

e ar e to o ma and n not enou y movem e gh m otio nts n.

Magazine subscriptions that are $200 a year! Kitchen Drawer just looked better! lol g

din tan s e ts! hil cke ew i k t o e sm ovi ho ym ew l u p b Peo ne to li in

people who are too LAZY to put their shopping cart back where it belongs... leave it in the parking lot... of course MY car is the one it bangs into!!!

People who think the passing lane is for 30 MPH joy rides.

When you work in an office and its 100 degrees outside and you have cold natured people who “control” the temp in the office and refuse to turn down the A/C so the rest of us sweat to death... www.kitchendrawer.net

happy

MONK

CONFESSIONS OF A COFFEE BARISTA

The Safehouse Story...

SO MANY COMPANIES THESE DAYS ARE NAMED AFTER THE OWNER OR A HANDFUL OF INITIALS, WHICH CAN BE FINE, BUT SAFEHOUSE COFFEE AND TEA IS NOT MOST COMPANIES. WHAT’S MORE, THE OWNERS ARE NOT MOST OWNERS. THEY’LL TELL YOU THE STORY IN THEIR OWN WORDS.

ome years ago, I was ramblin’ across the states looking for something – something elusive and always a town or so ahead of me. I was on a trail of some kind and making lousy time. What started in Little Five Points, Atlanta, made stops in Tallahassee, Athens, Memphis, Wichita, Manitou Springs, Eugene, San Francisco, and L.A. Of the many places along that trip, I had an eight-day layover in New Orleans. A road buddy of mine was going to meet me there in his 1964 Mercury Comet and we were rolling on to parts west – start a business of some kind in the Pacific Northwest. Unfortunately for me, what was supposed to be a day or two turned into over a week due to an uncontrollable catch on his end.

Now, if you’ve never been past the glossy storefronts, bars, and restaurants of the French Quarter, then you have missed much of the cultural and sociological structure that made the commercial face of New Orleans what it was, and since rebuilding has made progress, what it is becoming again. Just a few short blocks from Bourbon Street, is the rest of New Orleans that lies just within the blind spot of most anybody that’s not from there. For trail walkers and ramblers, there are certain cities and towns that just don’t like passersthrough. New Orleans, or at least the affluent areas, is one of those towns. At that time, being picked up there for vagrancy meant a $100 fine and/or ten days in jail. That 34

means no sleeping on the park benches or in the alleys – no loitering in public places.

In the times when a town like this cannot be avoided, one learns a few valuable skills. Call it a hustle – call it a street skill – whatever you call it, if you’re on the trail long enough, you learn to pick up an interesting or at least amusing talent that gives you the ability to loiter without looking like you are loitering. Some guys play an instrument. Others make origami objects out of local grasses and leaves. Street magic, juggling, incredibly witty banter, painting – you have to have something. Having kept myself in gas and cigarettes in college by street performance, I should have been able to flourish in the environment, except I had ditched my guitar a few stops back. Carrying the guitar slowed me down, but now it was all that didn’t stand between me and hungry days. And so I was relegated to spending my days down at the wharf with whatever kids got stranded in town the last time Phish or Widespread Panic came through. The problem with that was they were thieves and that would bring heat I didn’t want, so I did what I could to keep my distance when they started relieving people of their wallets. My nights were spent in a haze of half-wakefulness, heel-toeing it up and down the Quarter like some semilucid escapee from a sanitarium. After four or five days of this (you start to lose your concept of time when you’re that sleep and nutrition deprived) I found myself daydreaming. I realized that I was trying to gauge in my mind how much force it would take to knock someone out with a brick without inflicting any lasting damage. See, I didn’t have the sleight of hand it takes to be a pickpocket, and I had to get some food soon. Most towns and cities have an extensive network of food pantries and soup kitchens, but then some, like New Orleans, had none unless you were on the outskirts of town – it helps keep down the vagrancy if the vagrants don’t have anything to eat. I was repulsed at the thoughts in my head and I ran from there and ended up at the wharf again. ( 7 7 0 ) 4 1 2 -‐ 0 4 4 1

That night marked the birth of my loathing for vodka as IÂ shared a bottle of the cheapest rot-gut that the jam band refugees could buy with that dayâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s take. Half of them begged and half of them lifted wallets, but I couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t bring myself to do either. When the bottle was passed my way, it didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t occur to me that I hadnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t eaten in days and I threw back a big swigâ&#x20AC;Ś and immediately lost it violently onto the rocks that lined the Mississippi River through that section of the city. I gave them their swill back and got up to take another lap around the Quarter.

my pack through the crowd as inconspicuously as I could, and sat down. I put my pack under my feet and wrapped the shoulder straps around one of them. I put my face in my hands and fell apart on the inside for a momentÂ â&#x20AC;&#x201C; having aÂ place where I wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t in danger, even for a few minutes, made me almost more emotional than I could conceal.

In my muddled brain I thought I remembered reading something about places like this, where you could go in and stay awhile even if you couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t buy anything, but IÂ couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t place it so I slid my pack down and carried it inÂ my right hand, just barely above the ground. I turned towards the bar to my right and stopped when the barkeep looked at me. He was grey and craggy and seemed to look past my shaggy face into my past. He looked at the pack in my hand and back at me and then nodded slightly â&#x20AC;&#x201C; first at me and then to an empty barstool at the dark, far end ofÂ the bar. I walked across the room, weaving myself and

I never forgot that night, the barkeep, or that sign and years later I came across a website about old hobo symbols and what they meant, and there right on the screen was that circle with an X in the middle and the caption beneath it: â&#x20AC;&#x153;A safe place to get a meal. Usually a home or business owned by aÂ former hobo.â&#x20AC;? Now I have my own business and that symbol is part of our logo so that I never forget where I have been and so that I look past the face of everyone who walks in my door. Come see me â&#x20AC;&#x201C; I might have something for you.

New Orleans is a rich environment at night â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the spicy exotic smells of delicious island and bayou foods cooking, the rainbow of lights painting the buildings and sidewalks, the comforting ooze of jazz spilling out of dimly-lit doorways like waves of warm honey flowing into the street â&#x20AC;&#x201C; itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s pretty magical, I imagine, if youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re not starving and fatigued. As IÂ made my way up Bourbon Street with my big, aluminum frame backpack and bedroll for the hundredth time that week, my eye caught something that seemed out of place. All the signs are meant to grab you by the face and make you buy whatever they have, but this was a small wooden sign â&#x20AC;&#x201C; handmade, by the look of it. It was smaller than it should have been and hung at the top right corner of the doorjamb of this smallish bar. It said, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Patrons may enter with or without money,â&#x20AC;? and there was a symbol on it â&#x20AC;&#x201C; a circle with an X in the middle.

When I lifted my head, there was a bowl of bar nuts and a glass of water in front of me. Tears threatened to run down my face and I turned to the barkeep and nodded my reserved gratitude â&#x20AC;&#x201C; he didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t acknowledge. I started on the nuts slowly. Having had an empty belly for days before, I knew that if I attacked them, they would attack me back. The salt made my mouth so dry I couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t even chew, so I took my time alternating between the mixed nuts and what was probably nasty municipal water, but it tasted like a pure Colorado spring to me. After a few minutes, a couple at the bar got up and left, leaving half a plate of uneaten fried onions. Barkeep picks them up along with several empty mugs and glasses and walks down to the sink, puts the glasses and mugs in and slides the plate to me â&#x20AC;&#x201C; never looking at me. In fact, he did not acknowledge my presence again that night, but by the time I left, he had scavenged a full meal for this traveler he had never met and would never know. IÂ left with my head on straighter than it was before and over the next few days, I met some friends that made the place bearable until my buddy rolled in and we both rolled out.

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Hunt Slade

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justin martinez

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Many find it hard to believe that these photos were not manipulated with Photoshop or any other post-processing software.â&#x20AC;? states photographer Justin Martinez. Justin began working as a photographer in 2002 for The Thomaston Times and continued to do the same for The Gordon College Press in college, where heÂ studied English.

More recently, his long exposure/ light painting photography has gained him much acclaim. With a tool bag full of bright lights and glowing gadgets, Justin creates all the â&#x20AC;&#x153;special effectsâ&#x20AC;? in his pictures in real time while the photograph is being captured, using flashlights like paintbrushes.

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Currently, Justin works as a freelance photographer in the Atlanta area, taking commercial and promotional photos for different companies and artists, and is available for personal portraits and senior pictures.

To see more from this photographer, visit justinmartinez.net. Contact Justin Martinez at justinmartinez@gmail.com

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SUMMER VEGETABLE PIZZA

2 for our readers

Kay Green

Prepackaged thin or whole wheat pizza crust Marinara sauce (I make my own) Grated mozzarella cheese Sliced mushrooms Sun-dried tomatoes or sliced fresh tomatoes Very thinly sliced Vidalia onion, red and yellow peppers Thin slices of zucchini A little more grated mozzarella Preheat oven to 375 degrees (use convection if you have it). Layer ingredients over pizza crust in order given above. Bake pizza about 20 or 25 minutes or until nicely browned and vegetables are cooked. Cool 5 minutes and slice. Of course, you can add your own favorite assortment of vegetables!

BLUEBERRY COBBLER 2 1/2 cups fresh or frozen blueberries 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1/2 lemon, juiced 1 cup white sugar 1/2 teaspoon all-purpose flour 1 tablespoon butter, melted 1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

4 teaspoons baking powder 6 tablespoons white sugar 5 tablespoons butter 1 cup milk 2 teaspoons sugar 1 pinch ground cinnamon

Lightly grease an 8-inch-square baking dish. Place the blueberries into the baking dish and mix with vanilla and lemon juice. Sprinkle with 1 cup of the sugar and 1/2 teaspoon of flour, then stir in the tablespoon of melted butter. Set aside. In a medium bowl, stir together 1 3/4 cups of flour, baking powder, and 6 tablespoons sugar. Rub in the 5 tablespoon of butter using your fingers until it is in small pieces. Make a well in the center and quickly stir in the milk â&#x20AC;&#x201C; just until moistened. You should have a very thick batter, or very wet dough. Cover and let rest for 10 minutes.

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Preheat oven to 375 degrees (I use a convection oven). Spoon the batter over the blueberries, leaving a few small holes for berries to * % .",)/!"| #2 .)! ." , ." #(( ')( ( sĂ&#x2039;. -*))(- -/! , and sprinkle on top. Bake 20 to 25 minutes or until top is golden brown. Let cool until just warm before serving.

FOR YOUR HEALTH ...be a localvore by Ashley Green

What is a Localvore?

ocalvores are those who dedicate themselves to consuming foods that can be acquired within a certain radius, usually less than 100 miles. By eating in-season, locally harvested foods, localvores not only avoid the need for fossil fuels and non-renewable resources used in shipping, but they also enjoy the unsurpassed quality of locally grown food. Local produce is much healthier than store-bought, simply because it is taken from the ground at its freshest point and consumed soon afterward. Store-bought produce has often been in transit or cold-stored for days or weeks, whereas produce from the farmers’ market is generally picked and sold to the consumer within 24 hours. This freshness not only affects the taste, but also the nutritional value that declines with time. Fresh produce contains twice (and sometimes as many as three times) as many vitamins and nutrients as store-bought varieties. You can’t get any more local than your own back yard, and starting up your own garden can be incredibly rewarding. It is an inexpensive way to get the freshest produce, soothe the mind, enjoy the sunshine, and get a little exercise. If your thumb is not-so-green, however, there are many local farmers and farmers’ markets ready to supply you with the freshest produce. Here is some information on two of them in our area:

D & A Farm Dave Bentoski D & A Farm is only about five years old. Dave Bentoski moved to Pike County from his home in Jackson, GA, where he had a small 2-acre farm and worked full-time as an airplane mechanic for Delta. He learned farming techniques from his dad and granddad, who both tended small gardens, and also worked in a greenhouse in his youth. When Dave got older, he sold pumpkins in the fall, which paid his way through school to become an airplane mechanic. After purchasing 25 acres of land in Pike County, Dave decided to live out his dream of being a full-time organic market farmer. He said it’s what he loves to do: work with nature and enjoy the benefits of its beautiful gifts. “After all,” Dave says, “It’s certainly not about the money!” Farming is hard work with little pay, but the rewards come from within.

Dave’s philosophy in farming is to “try to let nature take control as much as we can” with sustainable methods of cultivating the land. When asked how he was able to keep all of the bugs away (which is a big challenge with organic growing), Dave said that it is more of a “hide and seek” game than it is a “war on pests.” For Dave, and many other organic farmers, one key to pest control is crop rotation. By moving crops around constantly, the bugs do not have enough time to build a habitat around their favorite treats. Dave feels that a problem many farmers have today is that they focus too much on the plants and too little on what happens to the soil in the process. He says, “If you nurture the soil, it will take care of your plants.” Dave nurtures his soil by planting nutrient-rich cover crops such as buckwheat, clover, and peas, then plowing them back into the soil. He also has a compost bin, supplementing it with compost from suppliers to meet the needs of his four acres of crops.

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Fresh Fruits Market Matt Bottoms

Dave also has a growing chicken farm where he raises nearly 3,000 chickens each year. Dave has emulated how they’d live in nature. The chicken pens are mobile – they stay on one plot of land until the grass is all eaten and are then moved a few feet down to fresh grass (the pen moves about 8 feet a day). Dave also feeds a grain supplement to go along with the chickens’ grass diet. After each area has been used by the chickens, Dave plows the land, with its chicken-laid fertilizer, and uses that land to plant his fall and winter crops. This is sustainable farming at its best! The chickens are sent off to be processed and, once returned, they can be purchased from Dave at $3.50/lb. Fresh eggs are $4/dozen. Ninety-nine percent of what you see at D & A Farm is the product of Dave and Amy’s own work: from the purchase and transport of a huge greenhouse, to the construction of a 6-foot-high electric fence around the farm (to keep the deer out), as well as the hard labor that has gone into cultivating the land. Dave and Amy are part of the few but growing number of people who are passionate about turning this nation away from subsidized super-power farming and global crop importing to local, natural, and sustainable cultivation that will preserve the earth and enrich our lives!

D&A Farms Dave & Amy Bentoski www.dandafarm.com; dandafarm@att.net www.kitchendrawer.net

Matt Bottoms saw a growing need in this area for public access to locally grown food. There are many crop farmers in Georgia that are kept under the radar, and he wanted to give them an opportunity to reach out to the public. Matt is no rookie; he’s been working at his family nursery his whole life and is presently serving on the boards of both the Young Farmer Committee and the Georgia Farm Bureau.

Most of the fruit produce (like blueberries) sold at Matt’s stand comes from his nursery. The rest comes from a collection of neighboring farms, with some supplementing from the Farmer’s Market in Forest Park. When Matt goes to the Farmer’s Market, he samples EVERYTHING, to ensure the finest-tasting produce to be purchased and sold at his stand. The stand is devoted to local food, so any food from outside of the U.S. is strictly off limits. Matt has seen firsthand the tremendously straining work endured by farmers in Mexico for very low wages, in order to produce food such as tomatoes to the U.S. We also chatted a bit about domestic politics and how the U.S. has found itself where it is today through the policy of government subsidies that reward the growing of grain crops that end up as processed food. “When you buy a box of cereal, you’re paying more for the packaging than what’s in the box,” and the sad part is, it’s probably cheaper than the cost of a couple ears of corn. Something’s not right here! As consumers, we can wait for U.S. food policy to change, or we can change our buying and eating habits right now by becoming localvores. Good for the economy; good for the environment; and good for you!

Fresh Fruits Market Will Godowns & Matt Bottoms (706) 954-‐4971, firstfruitsmarket@live.com

Fresh Fruits Market is located on the corner of GA Hwy 19 and Shackelford Rd.

1953 Old Atlanta Rd.

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hursday evening starts the weekend off right with Almost Anything Goes Games. Brush up on your feed sack and water balloon skills for these hilarious old-Âfashioned games. Then bring the whole family and come shake what your mama gave you at the Friday night street dance, featuring Papa Sol and Hudson Road Band. Gates open at 6 pm, admission is just $10. On Saturday, run or walk in the 10k or 5k Road Races (check-Âin begins at 8 am) or the 2-Âmile Fun Walk. Cheer local bands and Shriners at the 36th Annual Buggy Days Parade (2 pm), followed by more Old-ÂFashioned Games and a Fireworks Display (9:30 pm). Special weekend attractions include the Buggy Blast Fun Park, Antique Car Display, Lamar Arts Exhibit, and the Old Jail Mu-Â seum and Archives, along with Live Music, Arts and Crafts, and the ever-Âpopular Food Court. Yaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll come and enjoy the fun!

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Swint’s Pecans & Candies

by laura simmons

estled on Main Street among the pecan trees of the quiet town of Milner, you will find a small store bearing the name “Swint’s.” What began as a gas station has turned into a business that Ida Mae Woodall Swint created 83 years ago. Ida Mae took advantage of the prime location on what was, at the time, one of the area’s busiest highways, and used fresh pecans from the neighboring orchards to concoct delicious pralines that would soon become the talk of the town. Now, years later, walking up to the historical store, visitors know they are in a special place just by the sweet aromas of freshly shelled pecans, chocolate, and caramel that waft through as they open the front door. Inside, in baskets on counters, are varieties of pecan candies that include Ida Mae’s original pecan pralines along with other delicacies such as Pecan Logs, Pecan Caramels and a Swint’s original creation, Sweet Dreams, french-fried pecans covered in white chocolate.

N top: Swint’s 2009 right: Ink & Doodle Swint bottom: Swint’s 1926

As the business thrived, its operation passed through generations. Swint’s is now owned and managed by Ken Grant, the grandson of Ida Mae Woodall Swint and the nephew of W.K. “Ink” and Marie “Doodle” Swint, along with his wife Beverly. Watching his grandmother and parents run the business just across the street from their home, Grant learned the recipes and the ins and outs of the pecan candy business and has helped the family business evolve by offering customers the convenience of ordering Swint’s mouth-watering pecans and candies online. The most popular items continue to be their scrumptious Pecan Fudge, Pecan Maple Praline Fudge, and what has become World-Famous Divinity. Also available are simple but delicious French-Fried pecans and the southern staple, Pecans with Sugar and Spice. More than 75 years after Ida Mae Woodall Swint made the decision to give the Yankees traveling on Highway 41 something sweet to talk about, the candies are still craved and sought after by locals and travelers from all around the nation. Swint’s is located on 134 Main Street (Old Highway 41) in Milner and is open 7 days per week; Weekdays 10:30 am – 5:30 pm and Sundays 1 – 5 pm. Ken and Beverly take orders or provide information over the phone at 770-358-2608 and through their website www.swintscandies.com. They ship their candies all over the world, but for the full experience, pop in to Swint’s to smell, taste and buy these irresistible old-fashioned candies.

POSH PET SPA by Cassie A. Barrow

s a lifelong animal lover, Sheila Brannon has found her niche in Griffin at her own Posh Pet Spa. Graduating first in her class from grooming school in Southern California, Sheila quickly fulfilled the requirements of Certified Master Groomer and soon after took her first grooming job in Santa Clarita Valley. Grooming in California brought Shelia the great fortune and opportunity to groom the Weatherwax “Lassie” dogs, Spuds MacKenzie (whom she once dyed green) for Budweiser’s advertisements, and additional grooming assignments for Max Headroom, and Knots Landing. Looking back, Sheila admits, “This was a once in a lifetime experience that I enjoyed and was blessed to have, but in the end, my love for the dogs and what I do allows me to focus on each individual dog and not be influenced otherwise. They’re all someone’s baby!” In 1997, a job offer lured Sheila to the east coast after a lifetime out west. Singlehandily she loaded up her truck, trailer, and horse and moved east where she met her future husband Erik Brannon while competing in barrel racing on the professional rodeo circuit. An animal lover himself, and former professional bull rider, Erik continues in the sport through his breeding program for bucking bulls, Circle B Cattle Company, and by mentoring up-and-coming young bull riders. Five years ago the couple had their first child, Lane, who is a following in daddy’s footsteps.

After Lane’s birth, Sheila wanted to create a way in which she could work for herself, closer to home and her family. Opportunity

struck again when a friend told her that the animal nutrition store in Griffin, The Hound & Puss, was looking for an independent groomer to come in and set up shop. “I jumped at the opportunity and quickly started working on a business plan after talking with Chase Todd at the Hound & Puss.”

So in August of 2008, Sheila combined her grooming talent, experience, and entrepreneurial spirit and opened her first business, Posh Pet Spa. “This has turned out to be another great opportunity and experience that I am completely grateful for. There is a synergy between the two businesses located next to each other that benefits us and pet owners. As a show dog groomer himself, Chase has seen my work and is confident to refer his clients to me. At the same time, he knows a lot about animal nutrition and I can confidently refer my clients over to him, especially any who have dogs with skin problems and other health issues. As a groomer I feel it’s my job to care for the whole dog and not just the hair and nails.” Sheila hand-scissors and fluff dries all pets. She never uses cage dryers or tranquilizers on the animals. During our visit, Sheila is gently brushing out Phil, the English Bulldog, who dozes during his spa treatment. “This is my goal and what I create, an atmosphere of relaxation and pampering for the dogs. I want them to have a similar experience to what we have when we go to the spa. I think the owners want the same thing and enjoy knowing their dogs are being loved and pampered. These animals are their children. We have three dogs at home ourselves, so I share and respect those admirations.”

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MCDERMOTT’S AWARD-WINNING NOVEL CAPTIVATES Review by Betsy Harris, Co-Owner of The Next Chapter Bookstore

“‘Billy didn’t need someone to pour him his drinks, he needed someone to tell him that living isn’t poetry. It isn’t prayer. To tell him and convince him. And none of us could do it, Danny, because every one of us thought that as long as Billy believed it was, as long as he kept himself believing it, then maybe it could still be true.’ In the silence that followed, I fully expected him to say, ‘It was a lie. It was a lie and Billy knew it.’” Billy Lynch is the titular character in Alice McDermott’s Charming Billy, published in 1998 winner of that year’s National Book Award for Fiction. In fact, this novel, whose pivotal event is a lie, beat out Tom Wolfe’s A Man in Full for the prestigious honor that year. Critic Amanda Flinner describes Billy as “a blue-eyed charmer…[who] managed to bring out the best in people while they saw the best in him.” In the novel’s present (1985), he is also dead by the end of the first page. As the action opens, Billy’s cousin and best friend Dennis, cousin Danny, and the rest of Billy’s large Irish-Catholic family gather for his wake in the Bronx as his widow, Maeve, presides. The mourners reminisce, especially about the years right after World War II, which is how the reader learns of Billy’s sadness, a betrayal, and his self-destructive drinking. Perhaps as significant as what we learn about Billy, though, is what we learn of the narrator, who remains nameless throughout, and of her father, Dennis. Through these two,

as well as through the other family members, we see not only Billy’s impact on all who knew him but also the sometimes conflicting perspectives of his survivors. Was Billy a silly, romantic dreamer; a selfish and thoughtless husband; a pitiable alcoholic; or a fun-loving adventurer, always the life of the party? The answer, obviously, is that he was all of that and more, depending upon which character is interpreting him. As critic Alida Becker points out, McDermott’s novel concerns itself with “the way an individual’s life can be distorted by the expectations of others.” This is true of Billy, but it’s also true of Dennis, arguably as much the focus of this novel as his tragic cousin. Intentionally, I’ve revealed very little of Charming Billy’s plot, because it will be a worthy challenge for readers to sort out the interplay of past and present, of who’s who, of who feels responsible for Billy’s death. I will say this: It’s been a while since I’ve read such an engaging novel. Writer-in-Residence at Johns Hopkins University, Alice McDermott is a gifted writer, both “literary” and accessible; her short stories have appeared in Ms., Redbook, Mademoiselle, and Seventeen. If you read Charming Billy and like it, you might want to join me in searching for copies of her other works, A Bigamist’s Daughter, That Night, and At Weddings and Wakes. However, if you find that McDermott’s novel is not your style, you can always drop by The Next Chapter Book Store at 117 North Hill Street, to find something else that suits your fancy. Happy Reading!

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What follows is the second installment of Amanda Cera’s “Sorting Laundry” series, a first-person narrative in three parts, told from the viewpoint of each of its three characters, Sarah, her husband Edward, and their son Eddie. If you missed “Part 1: Sarah,” do whatever it takes to get your hands on a copy of Kitchen Drawer Vol. 1 No. 2.

ACT II: EDWARD Sarah and me, we’ve been together so long I can pick out the imprint of her dentures in a dinner roll. I could recognize the step of her shoe in the softest dust. I know her foot’s narrow heel, the broad, curving outward push of her forefoot, so broad all her shoes wear thin on the sides long before the soles give out. We’ve been together so long there just isn’t an Edward without a Sarah. I was a pilot in my day, flew missions from Guam back before there were charts and flight maps of every square inch of the world; back when a pilot was the most important part of flying, long before I’d have trusted my life to some electronic gismo like autopilot. Seems the whole world’s gone that way, though. My only son Eddie has been trying to convince his mother and me for years to get us a computer, to write him and the grandkids electronic mail. It’s all so foreign, so un-American to me. I can understand the post office, slow as it is. I drop my letter in the mail. I see the noisy white mail truck squeal to a stop at my box, and I know the letter’s sealed, that the scratch of my handwriting is inked on the paper, that he takes my letter to the post office, sorts it out, sends it to another post office in the city where it’s going. There’s a logic to it. If I wanted, I could track it all the way. There’s just no course for that electronic stuff. “Where does it go,” I asked Eddie last Christmas when Sarah and me were visiting. “When it pops off the screen, where does it go?”

He told me it’s just like the real mail. That the letter gets sent to a network server or something and then to somewhere else, but in my mind, I can’t see it as a letter, a real honest-to-God piece of mail that someone can pick up in a run-down truck – that someone can hold and read. He says it is routed through cyberspace, and all I can picture in my mind is Neil Armstrong bouncing around in his Pillsbury Doughboy suit on the moon delivering some invisible letter, fingerprinting it all up with moon dust. That’s just a part of getting old, the way I figure it. It seems the world speeds up as I slow down, as my body gets more rigid, the world gets more flexible. Those places that us relics fit into get smaller and smaller each year, seem to shrink inch by inch, slump and contort, just like our old bones, with the expanding world.

I was six foot even when me and Sarah married, tall and proud, sure of the way things worked in the world, even arrogant to a point, now that I look back on it. Now, I’m five foot nine with feet that shuffle across the cold kitchen floor when I grab my morning coffee. And Sarah, my Sarah, it’s just painful to see. No matter though, ‘cause we still fit together, still belong together. When we were married, my boss at the airfield let me borrow a plane, and we flew up to the North Carolina mountains for our honeymoon. Just the two of us, out in the open mountains. We camped out in a green military tent and lay awake at night staring up at the stars together, speculating about whether anyone would ever reach those stars. Sarah said they would. I never thought they’d get into space, never even considered that way back then when my mind was supple and fresh. We climbed around those mountains for a week, pitching camp in a different spot every night. On the last night of our honeymoon we reached the crest. I remember how cold that wind was, how Sarah snuggled so close that night after ( 7 7 0 ) 4 1 2 -‐ 0 4 4 1

we loved each other. I remember the heat her body gave off, how her hair drifted through the air on a breeze that slipped under the edge of the tent flap. We brought a hammer and a chisel with us and chipped “Sarah and Edward” on a rock at the top of that mountain. I like to imagine it’s still there, weathered like us, the rough edges smoothed by time, but there still, and that I could find it and trace my index finger around those letters.

It’s been a good television, and it just seemed wrong throwing it away like that, tossing it in the dump like it never meant anything, wasn’t worth nothing. It might not do what it used to, but it does fine as a table to hold up the new set. I saw the boys come home from Korea, mourned President Kennedy, watched the Berlin Wall pulled apart brick by brick on that set. It just seemed a shame throwing it out like that.

Back when I was flying, I remember how frustrating it was to be in a foreign land, where I couldn’t speak the language, where everything around me was unfamiliar and strange. A man feels disconnected in a place like that, free-floating, with no attachment to keep his priorities in order, no home base to relax and revive in. That’s what the world is like to us now. A place so foreign that it’s hard to believe we were once a part of it. Just a trip to the grocery convinces me that Sarah and I could never make it alone out there, struggling to find the correct phrase for “Where’s the bathroom? – What’s the cost?” There’s no dictionary made to bridge the relic gap, so we’d be walking blind in a foreign land.

She forgets a lot. Sarah was always the one who did the remembering for the two of us. I was the idea man. My Sarah could do any darn thing she set that stubborn mind of hers to. She served as the PTA president, church choir leader, and as head of the welcoming committee for our neighborhood. She was the best darn cook in Gaston County in her day. I do the cooking now. If only Eddie would remember her back then, he’d never even consider separating us. If he’d just remember how Sarah and me fit together like a bow and arrow; one’s just useless without the other.

Sometimes I think maybe we should take off, the two of us. We’ve got nothing really keeping us here. Our house is paid full, our child’s grown with a life of his own that keeps him busy, except on Christmas and Mother’s and Father’s Days. As the days seem to shorten, speed by like a jet, I think about leaving more and more often. I keep weighing the pros and cons in my mind, and every time it’s harder to come up with cons. There’s really only one that keeps me sitting here in my tan recliner.

Eddie’s been coming around more lately, and he’ll notice things soon enough, if he hasn’t already. That same time that’s slow for him has brushed by us so fast it’s torn the color from our hair and inches off our height, but it’s about at its end. I know that. Sarah knows it, too. Somewhere in her mind, somewhere deep down. Eddie brought us a new television a few months ago, to replace our old floor model that went out a while back. The new television has a flat screen and a remote controller so we don’t have to move out of the chair to change the program we’re watching. He got mad at me, said I was making things more complicated than they had to be. I wanted the time set so it would pop up on the screen when I changed the channels. He’d already set it, he said, but I wanted to know how myself, in case the power went out or something. I was being difficult, he assured me, so I just dropped it. Didn’t want to fight with him anymore, but I wouldn’t let him take the old floor model to the dump like he wanted.

The old set’s heavy with wood surrounding the thick glass. There’s a chip in the screen way down near the front right corner where Eddie, Jr. accidentally knocked it with his aluminum bat one Saturday morning before a game. On top there are smeared fingerprints where he spilled his model glue and tried to wipe it off before I saw it. The new television is black plastic with no scars. I guess its picture is okay. Sarah keeps asking what that thing is sitting on top of her television set, and I keep reminding her about the old one going out.

I had to pay a handy man to install deadbolts that lock and unlock both ways with a key. It was worth paying the money so Eddie didn’t know why I’d done it. He thought we were scared because he says our neighborhood’s gone to the dumpsters. (It hasn’t, but I let him think it.) It pleased him that he thought I was finally seeing things his way, so I didn’t correct him. I just held Sarah’s hand to keep her from wandering outside while Eddie lectured the two of us about the neighborhood. She wanders off sometimes and has trouble finding her way back home. I have the only key to the deadbolts. I gave Eddie the wrong one. On bad days, Sarah can’t remember who I am. She thinks I’m her Daddy and asks me to braid her hair and put pretty pink ribbons at the ends. On others, she throws things at me, tells me to get out of her house, that her husband will kill me when he comes home. I have to remind her to go to the bathroom. A few times, I’ve had to bathe her, clean her up after accidents. There are still good days when she knows me. She asks me how I got so old. Some mornings she wakes me up pounding on the dead-bolted door, trying to get out. Those are always hard

continued on page 54. www.kitchendrawer.net

continued from page 53.

days, and I’ve learned to brace myself for the assaults that will come. I take her curses, her meager blows, and remember her as she was. On those nights, after she’s exhausted her anger and is peacefully in bed beside me, she’s usually pretty quiet.

“Tell me the story about you and Mama,” she asks me. And I remind her of that week we spent in the mountains, and how there is a rock, somewhere high up close to God, where our names are chiseled in stone. Sometimes, I tell her we’ll go there, that I’ll hold her hand in mine and together we’ll trace those smooth letters. Sometimes, I believe it myself. The hard days come more often than the easy ones, but I guess that don’t matter anymore. The other day I must’ve forgotten to lock the door, I was so tired before bed. It’d been one of the harder days, and I just drifted off to sleep. Sarah woke up before me and went for a walk. I wasn’t sure how long she’d been gone when I woke up and saw the door standing open with the fragrant May wind drifting through the house. I threw on my clothes and went looking for her.

Turns out, some cops picked her up and asked her where she lived. They said she was disoriented and couldn’t answer, so they took her down to the station. One of the boys Eddie went to school with recognized her and called him. He was angry with her, but mostly with me. (I was still out looking for her when he called. I was scared something bad had happened to her, and I couldn’t ever forgive myself were anything like that to happen.) He wanted to know why I hadn’t called as soon as I found she was gone. I didn’t answer. He says I can’t take care of her anymore. That it’s just too much for a man of my age to handle. I wonder if he can imagine just how long I’ve already been handling it. He says he’s moving her into an assisted living center, a nice place close to his home across town. I want to beg him not to take her, but I can’t open my mouth with him staring down at me, his brows knotted in anger. I need him to understand, but he won’t – no matter what I say. When he was a little boy, he used to tell me he couldn’t wait until he was the Daddy and I was the boy. I always laughed at that and told him the world just didn’t work like that. I wonder if he likes it as much as he always thought he would. I convinced him, with the help of the assisted living center director, that Sarah would be safe with me until they could find her a bed. The director assured him it would only take a couple days, so Eddie agreed she could come home ‘til then. 54

They don’t have married suites in the home, so I can’t go with Sarah to live. Besides, the director said I was fit as a fox, didn’t need no assistance to live. It’s strange after living 82 years, most of those spent sharing my ideas, my concerns, my plans with one woman, to know that life is over. Dying in my sleep was always how I wanted to go, so I wouldn’t see it coming. Now here I am, counting down the hours until my son, Eddie, comes and carries away half of me in his car and totes her off to a foreign land, where she won’t even have me to anchor her.

Eddie called tonight, said the bed’s ready and he’ll pick Sarah up first thing in the morning. He gave me a lecture about how she’ll be better off, how I’ll be better off. How if I really loved her, I’d want what was best for her. I didn’t say much, but Sarah was chattering away in the background for me to go to the bathroom, to get off the telephone, so I could take her to the circus. I’m glad she don’t know what her Eddie’s doing to her. I tell Eddie he’s right and hang up the phone.

It’s been a hard day, and Sarah and me are exhausted. I tell her we’re leaving tonight, going up on that mountain to find our rock. I lead her out into the dark garage through the kitchen door after checking the deadbolt on the front door. She wants me to turn on the light. She’s scared of the dark, but I take her hand in mine, and she quiets down. The old car still runs, and I help Sarah into the passenger side. After a bit of mechanic work on the exhaust, I join her. “Tell me about the rock,” she whispers, snuggling into the crook of my shoulder.

“Okay,” I answer, cranking up the car. I close my eyes and see us both as we were that week, young and strong with our lives stretching out in front of us, endless like the ocean or the horizon. I can already feel myself getting sleepy, (Sarah’s eyes are closed, and she’s still against me.) I can feel the wind whistling in under the tent flap as I begin our tale for the last time.

Phyllis (left) & Emily (right)

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finally made it to Elvis Costello. Imagine the stacks of music a kid on a limited budget has to shuffle through. Could I buy an Elvis Costello album and skip Dylan’s Blonde on Blonde or The Beatles’ Rubber Soul? A person has to prioritize. Nonetheless, what I now know is it was my loss.

Costello’s Secret, Profane & Sugarcane is a decidedly Southern-tinged folk carving. Accompanying Costello is an all-star cast featuring the unmistakable dobro of Jerry Douglas (Alison Krauss & Union Station, O Brother, Where Art Thou Soundtrack), and the ubiquitous T-Bone Burnett (production & Kay 161 guitar). Burnett (along with Douglas & Krauss) reached commercial and critical success with his hillbilly-chic soundtrack to the Oscar-nominated film O Brother, Where Art Thou, which won two Grammy Awards in 2002, one being Album Of The Year. Of course, no Folk record would be complete without a gratuitous guest vocal performance by Emmylou Harris (“The Crooked Line”) – and for good measure, a co-written tune by Loretta Lynn. Not too shabby for a punk singer from the other side of the pond.

Cotton,” summons imagery of slavery in the American South. The theme is threadbare, but the writing is brilliant. “...picture the scene on the Old Salt House docks, where they loaded the iron shackles and locks, between a sandstone crocodile, a barrel and a bale.” Weaving history with humor inevitably ends up “corny” at times. See the line from “Sulphur to Sugarcane” which quips “the women in Poughkeepsie take their clothes off when they’re tipsy.” Somehow Costello is able to pull it off though – delving deeper into absurdity – spoofing Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” just before the song plummets. Genius. Better still is “I Dreamed Of My Old Lover,” a reeling tale of longing for the “spark” lost over the course of a relationship. Costello’s “old lover” turns out not to be an “other” but rather the persona of his partner at the beginning of their relationship. With a seamless harmony by Jim Lauderdale and a Mozartflavored chorus, “I Dreamed Of My Old Lover” gets better and better with time. It’s universal, and a genuine classic. Much the same can be said for Sugarcane as a whole. Even the less memorable moments are still well-crafted and charming, credit due to a stellar cast who seem to have real chemistry. With great songwriting and musical integrity, Sugarcane is worth a listen for any fan of esoteric, acoustic flavor or rich Americana (even when sung by an Englishman).

Sugarcane begins with an easy charmer – the laidback saunter, “Down Among the Wines And Spirits.” Costello evokes a tale of a former-champion prizefighter fallen from grace, brought to his knees on a sawdust barroom floor by the loss of a lover. “I Felt the Chill Before the Winter Came” (co-written with Country icon Loretta Lynn) is another standout on first listen. As the liner notes summarize, “inclement weather foretells of a betrayal.” It’s a classic tale of lost love that would fit comfortably on any classic Country Best of. Proclaiming his allegiance to classic Country motifs, Costello ties the theme of blood into Sugarcane (see the illustrated river of red flowing through the beautiful cover art by Tony Millionaire). Moreover, two of the thirteen tracks contain “red” in their titles (“How Deep Is The Red” and “Red Cotton”). The latter, “Red

Illustrations & Album Cover Artwork by Tony Millionaire.

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P02914

Ingredients 2 Cans refrigerated crescent rolls 2 8oz packages of cream cheese 1 1/2 Cups sugar 2 Tbs powdered cinnamon 1 Stick butter, melted

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Spread 1 can of crescent rolls (do not separate) in the bottom of an ungreased 9X13 casserole dish. Mix cream cheese with 1 cup sugar & spread over rolls. Layer second tube of rolls over cream cheese mixture. Combine remaining sugar & cinnamon & sprinkle on the top. Drizzle with butter. Bake at 350Â° for 25 - 30 minutes. Let cool & cut into small squares.

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