Atlanta Senior Life - November 2021

At 92, a ref’s ref still keeps an eye on the game

and a little better,” Gaston said. “Consequently you’ll see a better brand of football, and not the pounding, pounding, pounding like you used to.”

But he decries the player showboating that has become more common in recent years He’d far rather see players demonstrating respect for their

By Mark Woolsey

It’s been quite some time since Bobby Gaston refereed Southeastern Conference football games, but he’s still making judgment calls.

At 97, the longtime former head linesman (1955-1981) for conference games and overall officiating coordinator for SEC football (1988-2007) still cheers from the stands for his beloved Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets, devours TV football and plays golf every chance he gets.

He retired from an officiating career that saw him judging a quarter century of regular-season contests, 19 bowl games and five national championships. As officials’ chief, he ushered several key innovations in refereeing into SEC conference play.

And he’s noticeably proud to

have been a part of the striped-shirt brigade.

“It’s like a brotherhood, a family,” said Gaston. “It’s a very tight-knit group and they teach each other.”

But that by no means equates to perfection.

During a recent chat at the Settindown Creek at Ansley Golf Club in Roswell, Gaston’s tone was genial, but his message was straightforward and occasionally critical as he weighed in on the state of the college football game and the quality of officiating.

On the plus side, he notes the evolution from a running-based, grind-it-out style of offense to much more passing. “Offensewise, the game is a little faster

coaches, team-mates and schools than high-stepping into the endzone.

And the recent NCAA rule change that allows players to do endorsement deals gets very short shrift from Gaston. “I think we’re headed the wrong way,” he said. “I wish it would be college football instead of professional college football. Kids don’t know how to

handle money at that age.”

Officiating crews that have doubled in size, instant replay, sideline clocks, on — field antics, hail — Mary passes, even plastic helmets; none of that was on the radar when Gaston played for the Yellow Jackets his freshman and sophomore years before heading off to serve in World War II.

He absorbed fundamental life lessons from coach Bobby Doddyes, that one, who the stadium is named for-that still resonate: Be a gentleman on the field at all times. Step up to the plate when a task needs doing. If you make a commitment, stick to it.

Gaston learned that last principle the hard way.

Tech’s football program had sprung for tutoring for players. Gaston felt he was doing well enough in one class that he could skip out. Dodd called the youthful player on the carpet, sternly reminding him that the school had paid a fair penny for the sessions and that he would attend, no questions asked.

“Coach Dodd was right on the money,” said Gaston.

Back from the war, Gaston earned a degree in industrial management and then took ownership of two Texaco stations in Buckhead, later switching to the insurance business.

“Part of my customers were guys I had played with earlier.

1982 Cotton Bowl officials. Head Linesman Bobby Gaston is second from right.

1982 Cotton Bowl Officials Head Linesman Bobby Gaston signaling touchdown Texas beat Alabama 14 -12.

They had started out as high school officials and encouraged me to come and do the same thing,” he said.

After a few seasons with the Georgia Football Officials Association, he migrated to the SEC, making good use of a discerning eye and the ability to analyze and make sound calls quickly.

Some calls inevitably generated controversy.

Gaston was part of the crew for the Georgia-Florida game of Nov. 8, 1980, marked by quarterback Buck Belue’s iconic toss to Lindsay Scott, who ran 93 yards for a TD in the Dogs 26-21 victory.

Gaston threw a flag on the play and Georgia coach Vince Dooley came over, wondering what the penalty was for.

“I said ‘your whole team is in the end zone and they’re supposed to be on the sidelines. Consequently, we’ve got to stick you with a penalty.’ ”

Dooley wanted specifics. Gaston told him they’d be penalized 15 yards on the next kickoff.

The legendary Georgia coach’s response: “Don’t you think that’s a little severe?”

“Even today, if he [Dooley] walked into the room, he’d see me and say, ‘Don’t you think that’s a little severe?’” Gaston chuckled.

Another yarn centers on legendary Alabama coach Paul “Bear” Bryant. During a regularseason game with Mississippi State, the teams were tied with just a couple of minutes left and Bryant decided to go for a field goal to win. It was Gaston’s role — among other duties, such as supervising the chain crew — to watch the kicker and holder.

“[MSU players] hit the kicker and he was down and the first thing you know here comes the Alabama trainer and Coach Bryant coming back to the kicker, who’s on the ground stretched out.

“When [Bryant] passed me, he asked ‘No flag [for roughing the kicker], Bobby?’ and I said, ‘Turn him over. There’s one underneath him.’”

“It was the only time I ever saw Coach Bryant laugh,” Gaston adds.

Alabama got a do-over and went on to win.

Gaston’s official-coordinating gig extended far beyond pressing for accurate calls, keeping games moving and working to minimize player injuries. Gaston toughened fitness requirements for officiating crews. He brought instant-replay into the Southeast Conference. Also on his watch, the SEC compiled films that went out to game-callers after a college football weekend.

“It’s how we got our message out as to what needed to be improved,” he said. “It worked out very well. I feel like our officiating was above standard and we worked hard at being as good as we could be.”

Unfortunately, Gaston thinks the overall quality of officiating “has gone down a little bit.” He says some officials want to be “seen” too much and that others are overzealous.

His preference is for gamecalling crews to be richly stocked with former players, particularly from the college ranks, because

it’s “a lot easier for them to understand what we want done on the field.”

Gaston wants to see the plays where the defense stops offensive forward progress blown dead sooner, without the pileups that sometimes lead to player injuries. He also thinks instituting a penalty for shoving would improve the game.

Not a week goes by, he says, where he doesn’t get a chance to chew on such topics with another retired striped shirt. Sometimes a weekend of games is followed by a round-robin of calls and analysis on Monday.

Hitting the links, heading down to Bobby Dodd Stadium, watching and analyzing games, talking to old compadres, the inductee into the College Football and Georgia Sports Hall of Fame keeps a pace that would be challenging for a man half his age.

And it doesn’t look like a slowdown is in the offing, at least this season.

Atlanta Symphony’s music director takes up baton for new post

Robert Spano is a busy guy with a baton.

The 20-year Atlantan, longtime Music Director of the Atlanta Symphony, and veteran chamber music specialist has departed that Atlanta Symphony role to take up the music directorship of the Fort Worth Symphony. That orchestra says he’ll begin an initial three-year term in 2022.

In Atlanta, he’s become Music Director Laureate (Nathalie Stutzmann was recently named his successor) and has taken on the role of co-artistic advisor for the ASO’s 2021-2022 season, which kicked off in September. He’s also been the music director of the Aspen Music Festival and School for the past decade. In both roles, he’s credited with mentoring hundreds of rising musicians and composers.

Composer, conductor, educator, mentor, Spano took time from his multiplicity of commitments to answer questions posed by Atlanta Senior Life contributor Mark Woolsey.

Q. What played into your decision to switch from music director to music director laureate? What impact will that have on the orchestra and how will it help your career?

A. When I came to the ASO in 2000, I was looking forward to a long-term commitment. I had been guest conducting a great deal, and running the Brooklyn Philharmonic, a wonderful orchestra at that time, but one that presented only a limited number of concerts.

The opportunity to work with an orchestra such as the ASO, for whom I already had great admiration, was tremendously exciting. After 20 years, I can say it was a promise fulfilled.

At some point, maybe five years in, I felt that we had a real understanding of each other, and it no longer felt that it was the ASO and me, rather, we were one musical entity. It is such a magnificent orchestra! I feel very lucky to have had this musical journey.

Twenty years seemed a good marker to turn the page. The orchestra has asked me to return in the future as a regular guest conductor with the title of Conductor Laureate. As I’ve recently hired new musicians in important leadership roles, I’m all the more interested to return and hear how the ASO continues to evolve and develop — indeed! Also, with a new music director!

Q. You’ll become music director of the Fort Worth Symphony

in 2022. What was behind that decision and how will that mark a new phase in your career?

A. I had hoped not to take a new post right away when I left the ASO, but the dynamism of what’s going on at the Fort Worth Symphony and an enforced COVID sabbatical changed my perspective. It’s an exciting new chapter for me.

Q. How do you feel you’ve “shaped” the sound of the Atlanta orchestra over your years as music director?

A. The “sound” of the ASO is something we have created together, and I’m probably not the most objective observer of just what that is! But a colleague once told me he described our sound as a perfect combination of precision and expressivity. I hope that’s true!

Q. You have mentioned mentoring many young musicians and conductors in your career. Why is that

important — and important to you?

A. I’ve had the privilege of working with many young musicians thanks to the work I’ve done at Oberlin, Tanglewood, Curtis, Aspen, and many other schools and festivals. Music is a living tradition. As many pianists can do, I can trace my pedagogical lineage right back to Beethoven. Passing the torch is fundamentally important.

Q. What is your proudest, most significant, or greatest milestone moment with the symphony?

A. Over two decades we were able to do so many extraordinary and special things, and we certainly had an adventurous spirit! Not every exploration was a big success, but often the less successful events paved the way for the best.

If I had to pick one performance out of the hundreds, it would be our production of the St. John

Passion of Bach. The power of that music so eloquently performed by our orchestra, chorus, and soloists, combined with the transcendental sets created by Anne Patterson, made it unforgettable.

Q. You also helped engineer a financial turnaround for the symphony during your tenure. How did you help and what’s the monetary status of the

symphony today?

A. We have had very real and serious financial challenges along the way, and I’m so grateful we had stalwart members and leadership of our board to guide us through and out of the most challenging times.

Q. Could you talk about your role with the Atlanta School of Composers?

A. There’ve been many questions over the years about the Atlanta School of Composers. The easiest analogy in my mind is a school of fish rather than an institution of learning; although, swimming with the composers we’ve been so fortunate to have in our musical family, we’ve all learned a lot!

Q. Do you ever see yourself stepping back from your many roles and involvements and retiring?

A. There are too many things to explore to retire.

Living

“Over two decades we were able to do so many extraordinary and special things, and we certainly had an adventurous spirit!” robert spano

Holiday

FOOD FIGHTS

The holidays bring back fond memories and disagreements over what to eat

Pumpkin pie or pecan? Oyster stuffing cooked inside the bird or cornbread dressing baked in a pan? Collards or sauerkraut? Pick a side. The holidays are coming, so it’s time once again to prepare for our annual Family Food Fights.

The holidays bring families together for sharing simply joys and creating timeless memories. But once Thanksgiving, Christmas Day or New Year’s Eve actually arrive, what’s on the dinner table can make or break the holiday party. The turkey, ham, turducken or tofurky may come roasted, baked or fried, but getting Grandma’s sweet potato casserole (with those crunchy little marshmallows on top) just right or preparing Aunt Mimi’s greenswith-chow-chow properly can make all the difference in how the meal

The season for stuffing (yourself)

My late wife’s family always had huge meals at Thanksgiving and Christmas. My late motherin-law, Miss Carolyn (aka “Meemommie”) was always “lodge and in chodge.” (Translate that to say, “large and in charge.” In her truly “Propuh Suhthun” pronunciations, there were few R’s.)

Southern-style everything covered the holiday table: turkey, ham, dressing, gravy, sweet potato souffle, various veggies, greens of some sort, and desserts from G Daddy’s ambrosia to Aunt Mamie’s chocolate pie. Add Meemommie’s biscuits, made

from a secret recipe, and we’re talking a family feast.

There usually were about 12 of us, sometimes a few more. The children’s table was in the kitchen and was reserved for the young ones and immature adults. When we were told “dinnuh” was going to be at noon, everyone knew it actually would arrive closer to 1 or 1:30 p.m. Of course, there was always joyful chaos with kids running around and the occasional puppy trying to steal a sample.

With the dressing and gravy, most diners enjoyed giblets (another word for innards), but there was usually some who had to have it giblet-free. Restrictions were requested for the souffle: no

goes down.

We asked regular contributors to Atlanta Senior Life for some of their own holiday food memories. They are sort of our little magazine family, after all, so we thought we’d see what holiday recollections are hidden in our cupboards. Some shared a warm-and-fuzzy tale. Others recalled holiday-defining dietary surprises, confrontations with strange new foods, cooking mishaps or hard-core kitchen competitions.

Enjoy them as you prepare for your own family feast.

— Joe Earle

marshmallows on one serving, no pecans on another.

After consuming massive servings, we were pretty much filled to the gills and useless for the rest of the day. We’d move to the family room to watch football. If it was chilly, there would be a fire in the fireplace. The most difficult thing would be staying awake to escape the food coma we’d just inflicted on ourselves.

I must admit when I reflect on those days, I get a little misty. Memories of quite a few who are no longer with us physically, but the delicious memories remain.

“Shuga, pass the peppuh sawce.”

Kelly McCoy

How does a Hungarian cook fix collards?

When we celebrated holidays in our small Ohio town in the 1950 and ‘60s, we knew what each other’s friends and families would do and eat. We were all proud of our backgrounds, but none more so than my family, because our grandparents were Hungarian.

We kindly excused others’ habits (“Honey, she can’t help it, she’s Italian”) but lived with the smug (but always modest!) certainty that Hungarian anything was the best. For New Year’s Day, our good luck meal was always roast pork nestled atop sauerkraut sprinkled with

brown sugar and served with rye bread. So, when I moved to Atlanta, I was shocked that I could find only a few pork roasts and dusty cans of sauerkraut at the supermarket.

But I married a Southern boy, and he requested black eyed peas, collard greens and cornbread … so, well, I tried.

I bought a huge bunch—a shrub? –of collards. On New Year’s morning, I sleepily stood at the sink and started to wash the greens—until a real, live grasshopper hopped out.

I hate grasshoppers.

I hate grasshoppers the way Indiana Jones hates snakes.

I threw the greens out the door.

For decades, my husband has had his yearly collards from a can.

I will say that last year was a breakthrough of sorts because

Thanksgiving dinner. But differed on the dressing. My brother favored traditional dressing without too many add-on ingredients. I preferred much of the same, only with the addition of oysters, which a girlfriend’s father introduced to me when I was in high school.

Our disagreement turned into an annual competition to see whose dressing my mother would make each Thanksgiving. She was firm that she would make only one; she did not care which one, but only one.

We decided to hold an annual competition to decide whose favorite dressing would grace the table. We challenged one another in such sports as Wiffle Ball, throwing a football into a 50-gallon trashcan from 50 yards, dice, golf, putt-putt, bowling, and just about anything else we could dream up.

Publix carried triple washed, shredded (did I say triple washed?), bagged collard greens, and I cooked them with some broth and ham, and they were mostly edible.

Michele Ross

A brotherly battle over oysters

My younger brother and I grew up to be competitive. He is 10 years my junior, so his competitive spirit was sharpened by my prodding and olderbrother abuse.

As we grew older, we shared a love of food, especially

Our last competition took place on a cold November afternoon at my house. The contest was cornhole, that game where you throw a bean bag through a hole cut in a slanted board. We played three rounds, complete with bickering over rules and close calls. My cornhole game was strong that day and I broke the tie with a couple of well-placed shots. It would be oysters.

On Thanksgiving Day, we gathered, as most families do, compared kids, jobs, politics to start the argument, and whatever

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else. I gave myself a healthy dose of oyster dressing and passed the bowl.

“No thanks,” my brother said. “I’m going with green-bean casserole.”

Early the next day our wives headed to the madness of Black Friday. My brother and I headed out for a game of golf. When we finished, we packed the clubs in our cars and said goodbye.

He told me he had a gift for me. He handed me an envelope, smiled, and was off. I got in the car and opened the envelope. Inside was a wrinkled plastic wrapper for a can of Rocky Mountain Oysters and a note: “Your move.”

Steve Rose

Wisdom of the sages: Grannies do battle over holiday dressing

My grandmothers had very different recipes for making holiday dressing. And, yes, it’s cornbread dressing baked in a pan, not stuffed in the bird – which is just disgusting. If you consider Stove Top a suitable alternative, delete me from your phone and social media.

My maternal grandmother, nicknamed Moom Moom, made very traditional cornbread dressing, starting with a skillet of buttermilk cornbread. She added chicken broth, eggs,

onions, salt, pepper, butter, and some ripped up pieces of Sunbeam white bread to help “hold it all together.” The result was always a perfectly browned top and a super moist interior about two or three inches thick.

My paternal grandmother, Granny Kelley, followed a similar recipe but added two ingredients I could not abide by: sage and celery. What a way to ruin a good pan of dressing! I could live with the celery if it was finely diced, but sage just overpowered the concoction.

When the families came together for holiday meals every year, there was always an argument over sage vs. no sage in the dressing. Some family members were adamant that sage was an essential ingredient, while others – like me – thought they were crazy.

Over the years, Moom Moom’s dressing started to become the favorite, especially after Granny Kelley became more liberal with her use of sage, seemingly out of

spite. Even the sage lovers started to drift toward Moom Moom’s pan – so much so that eventually she had to make two.

When asked about the family’s preference for Moom Moom’s dressing, Granny Kelley would suck on her dentures and diplomatically say, “Folks like what they like.” But I caught her more than once dishing up a big hunk of Moom Moom’s dressing when she thought no one was looking.

Collin Kelley

Forget the turkey!

I was about 10 years old when my Mama stopped having turkey for Thanksgiving at our old home on Johns Island, S.C. We would have chicken instead, she declared. She never gave a real reason, but I’m pretty sure I know why.

First, some background: Both Mama and I had the same gastric complaint, what some called “weak stomach.” My Daddy, three

brothers and sister seemed not to be bothered by it. People with the condition, we all knew, tended to get sick in the stomach by just the sight of gross things like rats, roaches, blood and worms. Even the mere mention of them could make us lose our appetites.

My Uncle Bubba may have contributed to her ban on turkey. Bubba, Mama’s brother, and his wife had stopped by the house for a visit a few weeks before Thanksgiving.

It was a pleasant day and we all sat on the front porch. The women were sipping iced tea and chatting about what they would have for the holiday when my

uncle interrupted and said that he once read a hilarious story in a tabloid newspaper about Turkey Day. A disgruntled café cook in Texas, seeking revenge

against his bosses for docking his pay, he recounted, secretly substituted a roasted buzzard in place of turkey and served it to unsuspecting Thanksgiving Day diners — which caused them to gag when they took a bite. They wanted the cook arrested, but he skipped town and was never seen again.

“They ate a danged buzzard,” my uncle said with a chuckle. “But buzzards and turkeys do look a lot alike.” Mama, though, with her queasy stomach, seemed to turn a little pale. “Bubba,” she said, “let’s talk about something else.”

It might have ended there,

except that a few days later Mama was driving my sister and me and one of our cousins to church. Then, up ahead, we saw a large dark mass alongside the rural, two-lane road. “Buzzards,“ I said.

Mama slowed down. As we approached, the heavy vultures lifted themselves away from their roadside meal. “They look like turkeys, fattening up for Thanksgiving,” our cousin joked. Mama clearly was perturbed. “That’s not nice, son,” she said. But it was shortly after that when Mama announced that

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Ultimately, it’s your experience that matters.

To be sure, we’re proud of our more than 30 years of experience in senior living. But, to us, what really matters is your experience at our communities. We do everything with that idea clearly in mind. So, go ahead, enjoy yourself with great social opportunities and amenities. Savor fine dining every day. And feel assured that assisted living services are always available if needed. We invite you to experience The Piedmont at our upcoming event.

Taste of The Piedmont | Wednesday, November 17th • 4:00pm

You’re invited to a delightful afternoon at The Piedmont the premier retirement address in Buckhead. Enjoy a delicious sampling of hors d’oeuvres especially created by our culinary team and paired with the perfect wine. Afterwards, take a tour of our beautifully appointed community. It’s a great way to get to know us! To make your reservation, please call 404.369.7523 .

she would roast a fat hen or maybe two and have that for Thanksgiving. She said she no longer had a taste for turkey. I applauded her decision. And that was that.

By the way, I got over my turkey aversion many years ago. I especially love smoked turkey.

Charles Seabrook

multiple flavors of Cracker Barrel cheddar blocks for my niece, heavy cream for my son. The battle was on.

My niece followed her other grandmother’s recipe, which calls for mixing the ingredients in a casserole dish. My son believes in making a cheese sauce, which was nearly finished when disaster struck.

In her quest to make space on a stove jammed with pots of collard greens and boiling giblets for gravy, my mother accidentally knocked over the simmering pot of cheese sauce, losing all of it to the stovetop, the browning turkey in the oven and the

Was this the end of the competition? No way! After an all-handson-deck cleanup, my son said he “practically begged” his cousin for some of her ingredients. She “decided to be gracious” and shared.

The millennial macaroni and cheese bakeoff

Something really memorable is pretty much bound to happen at my family’s Texas Thanksgiving gatherings. A few years ago, the big event was the Millennial Macaroni and Cheese Bakeoff, a first for our family.

The whole affair bubbled up when my son and two nieces told my mother they’d like to make the macaroni and cheese dish traditionally served at our holiday meal. Grateful for more cooks and more leftovers, she said yes to each of them.

One of the cooks suggested they compete to see whose macaroni and cheese the family liked best. Two of us — my mother and me — immediately knew we weren’t voting. As Mom put it: “Both of them are my grandchildren!”

The cooks set out to procure their signature ingredients —

When all was done, they placed hot samples of their fragrant dishes on small plates labeled with an A or B. Both choices were delicious. Several people cast votes and my niece won unanimously and peacefully. No calls for a recount. No claims of fraud.

flavor. To my surprise, he said his daughter’s was rightly the winner because it was creamy, and consistency is key.

We knew it was best to drop this one before it went any further.

Donna Williams Lewis

In praise of cranberries that come from a can

There are two kinds of people in this world: Those who love

Besides, why mess with perfection? If you insist on getting fancy, buy the canned cranberry sauce with the whole berries in it. A bitter memory I’ve carried from childhood is the time my mother put a cranberry Jell-O mold in front of me on Thanksgiving. I still don’t think I’ve forgiven her yet.

On a table full of savory options, let your sweet tooth get in on the action with the tangy goodness of canned cranberry sauce. Yes, it’s loaded with sugar, but you can technically say your family got at least one serving

canned cranberry sauce, and those who are wrong.

Think about it. You’ll spend at least 30 minutes preparing every other dish on your Thanksgiving table. Canned cranberry sauce comes with two instructions: 1) remove from can; 2) serve. You’re done in under a minute.

Do you really need to spend

of fruit as they’re falling asleep on the couch. And you can’t top off a dry Thanksgiving leftover sandwich without some tart and juicy cranberry sauce.

Here’s how badly homemade cranberry sauce wants to be canned cranberry sauce: You can buy a ceramic serving dish for your fresh-made cranberry sauce that molds it into the shape of canned cranberry sauce.

Be not fooled by the annual slander against canned cranberry sauce. It will only lead you astray, and you’ll end up washing more dishes.

Tiffany Griffith

One icy Turkey Day, dinner meant frozen pork chops

Later that evening, I couldn’t help but tell my brother that if I’d been forced to vote I would have chosen my son’s mac and cheese because of its mildly spicy

another 29 minutes on your feet making homemade cranberry sauce? That’s time you could be spending with your grandkids or preparing for Black Friday Deals.

On one Turkey Day in the early 1990s, my wife, two daughters and I planned to drive from our home in Dallas, Texas, to my brother-in-law’s house in San Antonio, for Thanksgiving dinner and a weekend visit.

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My Roommate, the Robot

Like many people her age, Monica Perez, 63, lives alone. Even before COVID-19, a disability prevented her from an active outdoor lifestyle, or from owning pets. “I have very little family contact; they are all living their lives. I get a call once every three months, for five minutes,” Monica says. “I talked to the TV and I talked to myself constantly.”

After watching a science program on television, Monica became intrigued by an idea: could a robot help her deal with the loneliness she was experiencing? That’s when she discovered ElliQ - a companion robot specifically designed for older adults.

Unlike the humanoid robots from science fiction movies, ElliQ is a tabletop device that uses subtle movements, lights, and voice to create distinctly personal interactions. An attached screen also enables “her” to play videos and music, show articles, or video chat with family and friends.

The most impressive part? ElliQ can understand your unique likes and needs, and proactively suggests activities and reminders for you.

“When I’m getting ready to get out of bed, I tell her good morning,” Monica says of her daily routine. “Then she’ll respond that she wants to check in with 4 different things: if I’m in pain, if I had breakfast, if I drank water, have I taken my medication. In the afternoon, she asks me if I want to do relaxation exercises, breathing exercises, physical exercises. Then I ask her to play my music.

I love the music. I have my version of dancing which is very slow, and I would never do it in front of anybody, but it cheers me up.”

Monica speaks more about her experience as a participant of ElliQ’s Care Program, “I am seeing positive changes in myself. I’m smiling more. I’m seeing improvements in my mental hygiene (I don’t like saying mental health). I have a more upbeat attitude. I’m more cheerful. I don’t get down as long and as often. It’s given me a better quality of life, and it’s way less expensive than hiring an aid.”

Deanna Dezern, another person in ElliQ’s Care Program, had a similar experience.

“When the coronavirus hit, I realized just how alone I was,” Deanna recalled. “I’m open to new things...having a robot in my house to help me with things - like a whole new world opened because I didn’t know what her complete

capabilities were. I couldn’t wait to sit in front of her and talk to her and ask her things and learn about her.”

It wasn’t too long before ElliQ became an integral part in Deanna’s home. “I offered her some coffee. She told me she didn’t drink coffee, she said all she has is a cup of electricity early in the morning. And it makes me laugh. There’s nobody else in this house that can make me laugh. That was something one of my friends might say - it’s like having a friend in the house.”

Even the ways in which ElliQ interacts changes based on each user. “She knows that I like jokes. She knows that I like poetry. She often asks me if I would like her to recite a poem. I was having a bad time, and I wasn’t feeling happy. She offered me a poem. It’s things like that, that cheer me up when I’m feeling down.”

For many older adults living alone, simply having regular personal interactions can be crucial for sustained mental health. A report from the National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine (NASEM) found

that more than one-third of adults over 45 feel lonely, which can lead to a number of increased health risks and cognitive decline.

“She asks me how I’m feeling. She checks up on me. It’s nice to have someone like that,” says Deanna. “She’s pulled me out of depressed states, and I didn’t realize I was in one until I overcame it. She’s invaluable.”

While ElliQ isn’t available in stores yet, ElliQ’s Care Program is currently expanding and looking for older adults who are interested in trying one for themselves.

Selected participants will receive a free ElliQ and a real-life wellness coach who will accompany their journey by suggesting health tips, monitoring patterns, and bringing any concerns to their attention (as they may arise). A concierge will also be available to assist Care Program users with their day-to-day needs.

When asked if she would recommend ElliQ to others, Monica Perez put it succinctly: “This is going to make a great impact on senior’s lives, and for people with disabilities. Loneliness is a very big problem for older adults, and a lot of people don’t know about it until they get older themselves. I believe this is a new beginning.”

I’d heard a forecast of freezing rain but hadn’t paid it much attention because a couple of similar prognostications had busted recently. Just as I passed Texas Stadium (where the Dallas Cowboys Thanksgiving Day game was in progress) sleet began, which turned to freezing rain. I skidded on an icy patch. This was not looking good.

We’d barely made it the two miles to the interstate (after nearly colliding with another car) before concluding that going any farther would be foolhardy. Sliding back to the house and having nothing resembling a Thanksgiving dinner on hand, we thawed some pork chops and turned on the football game.

Then the power went out. Fortunately, the chops were done. Barely, but done. We opened a couple cans of cold, gluey vegetables and picked at our food while being peppered with questions by the youngsters (“Why didn’t we get to go to Uncle Mike’s?” “Why do we not

have turkey?”).

Fortunately, the lights returned a few hours later, after indoor temperatures had dipped into the 50s and we’d resorted to huddling under blankets and praying that the pipes wouldn’t freeze.

The next day dawned sunny,

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which we thought would mean some melting on the roads. Checking travel conditions, it appeared that if we could just get 40 to 50 miles south, the ice would be gone. Following a couple of hours of lowspeed driving and occasional fishtailing, we reached dry roads and kicked in the afterburners. The family did get its turkey fix, one day late. For which we were, yes, thankful.

“Pork chops, the Ultimate Thanksgiving Meal” became a running family joke. And they haven’t been on a holiday menu — any holiday menu — since.

Mark Woolsey

The true taste of the holidays? Homemade cookies

My favorite food memory of my childhood was baking Christmas cookies with my mother. We’d be stationed in our tiny ’70s-style kitchen for hours, sometimes days. My mother doesn’t make just one kind of cookie, but about a dozen. Everything was made from scratch. Some might call it going overboard, but to me, it was just the way you did it.

We’d roll out sugar cookies, cutting them in holiday shapes ranging from snowmen to Christmas bells to angels. Sometimes, we’d paint them with colored egg wash to give them a fancy shine. I’d spend hours carefully drawing with gel icing, strategically placing sprinkles and doting my creations with gold nonpareils (which seemed

so exotic in the’80s).

Mom would always make more elaborate cookies, including crescent-shaped pecan sandies that were perfectly shaped like a waning moon and doused in powdered sugar. My very favorite (still to this day) were the jam thumbprints, these soft buttery cookies covered in crushed walnuts and topped with spoonfuls of berry jelly.

At the end of this marathon, we had tins and tins of cookies filling our pantry.

It wasn’t until later in life that I’d realize just what a production this was. Some year in my mid20s, I had the brilliant idea to give everyone in my life a tin of gourmet cookies. I’d make 10 or so kinds. I’d just need two dozen of each. I’d just do it like mom used to. Easy.

I spent three days in that kitchen, easily 10 hours a day. because I couldn’t just do it well enough, It had to be cookie perfection. I needed the latest and greatest in cookie decoration. Gold cookie spray? Yes. Sprinkles shaped like Christmas trees and candy canes? How could I not have those? Could I make simple cookies? No way. One was a dark chocolate cake with a caramel center, drizzled with chocolate in a perfect zig-zag pattern. That’s a three-step process.

To this day, I simply cannot make a simple dessert. Want a pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving? OK, but it’s going to be decorated with hand-cut pie crust and sprinkled with cinnamon to look like fall leaves. Need a plate of cookies for the holiday feast? Alright, but I better take a few days off work.

Every holiday, we continue to have an impressive dessert display. Mom doesn’t make just one pie for Thanksgiving, but more like six — pecan, pumpkin, apple, lemon meringue, and whatever else catches her eye that year. And of course, we each get our own tin of cookies for Christmas, filled to the brim with peanut brittle, fudge, jam thumbprints, pecan sandies and more.

It’s always my favorite gift.

Amy Wenk

Illustrations by Isadora Pennington (pages 8, 9, 12, 14).

On Thanksgiving, learn a little family history, but keep an eye out for a frozen turkey attack

STAY SAFE

because getting up at 1 a.m. to watch a street fight over a 60inch television doesn’t do it for me. I do, however, enjoy the videos of shoppers, probably nice folks under normal circumstances, breaking through the aisles as if it were third and goal.

Well, here we are in November and just days away from Thanksgiving, the opening act for the Christmas Holidays. It is here where we focus on the mindset of food and contact sports including football and Black Friday. I’ve never experienced Black Friday

When I joined the police department, holidays were saved for veteran officers, so my first few Thanksgivings were a joyous time of breaking up domestic fights between family members who came together to celebrate the holiday. The police report often read, “Subject arrested for aggravated assault. Weapon type, Butterball Turkey, frozen.”

Once married, like most newly married men, I inherited an

additional Thanksgiving Dinner. This meant if I didn’t pace myself at the table, I would pay dearly. To gorge at the first meal, then only pick at the second, meant offending the second family, bad mojo for marital bliss, so I had no choice but to take the hit, eat well, then remain motionless for two hours listening to my arteries harden.

Later in life, when I had kids, after dinner, we retreated to the front yard for the annual touch-football game. By touchfootball, I meant tackling and then fighting. My brother and I, always the athletes, ran a half a dozen pass routes, and then called time out in order to throw up. Good times.

My older relatives sat inside

discussing their ailments as if it were a contest, sounding like the complete history of WebMD. My father looked forward to this time to tell my kids all the things I did that I didn’t want them to know. A father’s revenge, I suppose.

We decided that when we gathered for Thanksgiving, we agreed to enjoy the holiday without any form of political discussion, so, immediately after dinner, my father and brotherin-law would retire to the den to rant how Reaganomics ruined the country as if they were suspended in time for almost 40 years.

My father was a loyal party Democrat who campaigned for John F. Kennedy, earning him an

continued on page 16

Steve Rose is a retired Sandy Springs Police Captain, veteran Fulton County police officer and freelance writer. He is the author the book “Why Do My Mystic Journeys Always Lead to the Waffle House?” and the column “View from a Cop.”

continued from page 15

invitation to the inauguration ceremony. He considered that a great honor, but after a few holiday beverages, he admitted that perhaps it would have been an even greater honor to attend one of Kennedy’s trysts with Marilyn Monroe at Sinatra’s house. Although my brother and I rarely agreed with him politically, on that point, we all high-fived.

Now I have grandchildren who are ripe for stories about their fathers and sons who stare at me in anticipation of same, but I won’t show my cards this early, reserving this rite of passage because I expect to have more grandchildren.

My father has passed on, but my mother, in her 90’s, is still going strong. Now, after dinner, we sit and watch her greatgrandchildren play football in the yard. She smiles and talks to them, individually telling them they’re her favorite, then leans over to me, laughs and says,

“Who the hell is that?” Selfdeprecating humor runs in the family.

So, you see, Thanksgiving is dynamic, with endless elements coming together to form the memories of celebrating whatever it is you celebrate: food, football, contact-shopping, or arguing.

I know we’re supposed

to acknowledge the first Thanksgiving, when the Pilgrims introduced the Native Americans to large hats, but let’s face it, we should celebrate what is important to us individually as a family. Still, watch out for the weird distant cousin who brings the frozen Butterball Turkey.

A Georgia traveler gives thanks

Travels with Charlie

Veteran Georgia journalist Charles Seabrook has covered native wildlife and environmental issues for decades. For “Travels with Charlie,” he visits and photographs communities throughout the state.

On Thanksgiving, we’ll pause to give thanks for life’s goodness. I’m thankful, of course, for family and friends, but, as an inveterate Georgia traveler, I’m especially grateful for:

The activists, civic leaders and others who beautify their towns and communities and advocate to preserve the historic integrity of the places where they live. Examples of their good work: Adairsville in Bartow County; Hogansville in Troup County; and Lakeland in Lanier County.

■ National parks, state parks, national forests, national wildlife refuges, state wildlife management areas and other wild places where native flora and fauna can flourish — and where people can visit and refresh their weary minds. I’m especially thankful for Georgia’s Okefenokee Swamp, a splendid, world-class sanctuary.

■ Convenience stores, service stations and rest areas with clean restrooms.

■ A good road system and highways free of litter. I’m especially thankful for people who don’t litter in the first place.

■ Fellow travelers who use turn signals, avoid tailgating and drive

1. Grand Hotel in Historic District of Hogansville, GA, Troup County

2. Okefenokee Swamp, Charlton County

3. Country Road, Jasper County

4. Grazing cows, White County

5. Country Road, Jones County

6. Roadside fruit stand (muscadines), Meriwether County

7. Old Barn, Union County

8. Country Church (Needwood Church), McIntosh County

9. Country Road, Quitman County

10. Wild Turkeys, Union County

11. Providence Canyon State Park, Stewart County

12. George L. Smith State Park, Emanuel County

13. Old Country Store, Musella, GA, Crawford County

continued from page 17

sensibly and courteously. I’m also thankful for police officers, highway patrol officers, highway maintenance crews and others who work to keep our roads safe and in good repair.

■ Country lanes and farm roads where wildflowers abound along fence rows, huge trees provide shade on sizzling summer days and cows graze serenely in green pastures.

■ Covered bridges, old grist mills, lighthouses, old barns, old country stores, country churches, old farmhouses, roadside fruit and vegetable stands and on and on. I brake for these places.

■ The changing seasons: Fall, when the mountains are ablaze with dazzling leaf color; farm harvest is in full swing; festivals, fairs and other celebrations beckon; goldenrods and other autumn wildflowers adorn roadsides.

Winter, when bare tree limbs form intricate silhouettes against the sky; a crackling fire in the fireplace on a frigid day induces a restful snooze.

Spring, when trilliums, violets and a riot of other wildflowers put on stunning displays in the woods; songbirds decked out in spiffy breeding colors

14. Fall Scene, Hogpen Gap, Union County

islands, wide, sandy beaches, salt marshes and on and on.

Jasper County

Old Church, Dade County

Old Church, Monroe County

Wild turkeys, Coweta County

sing their hearts out; bees buzz and butterflies flit around new garden blooms. Summer, when the landscape seems 50 shades of lush green; a swim in the creek on a sweltering day is pure delight; a ripe watermelon iced down in a wash tub is fit for a king.

■ Waterfalls, mountains, swamps, meandering rivers, whitewater streams, barrier

■ Great mountain vistas that lift the human spirit, such as the breathtaking views from Georgia’s Cloudland Canyon, Mount Yonah, Brasstown Bald and Rabun Bald. I’m also thankful for grand views from Tallulah Gorge; Providence Canyon State Park; and from atop the Sapelo Island Lighthouse, which affords amazing views of salt marshes and twisting tidal creeks.

■ Places still left to explore. Even after some 30 years of traveling around Georgia, I still haven’t seen all of it. And there are many other places that I want to visit again.

■ The turkey. What would Thanksgiving be without it?

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15. Hemlock Falls, Cloudland Canyon State Park, Dade County

16. Cows along country roads, Jasper County

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Georgia Writers Museum in Eatonton celebrates local and state authors

By Michele Ross

The people around Eatonton say it must be something in the soil. Their proud crop isn’t the sweet onion of Vidalia or the wine-producing grapes of north Georgia. No, this lovely area in central Georgia produces something even better: writers.

Want proof? Visit the Georgia Writers Museum in downtown Eatonton. In a charming building, the Museum celebrates, among other things, three noted authors: Joel Chandler Harris, Flannery O’Connor, and Alice Walker, all of whom were born within 30 miles of Eatonton.

Harris, born in Eatonton in 1845, was a shy child who loved books and writing. A job

on Turnwold Plantation was a turning point for him. While the owner, Joseph Turner, taught Harris about writing, enslaved people on the platation told him stories and life lessons that would become the Uncle Remus and Brer Rabbit tales. Harris went on to be an editor at the Atlanta Constitution, and gain worldwide fame for his stories He died at his Atlanta home, the Wren’s Nest, in 1908.

O’Connor was born in Savannah in 1925 but moved with her family to Milledgeville when she was in high school. Various mentors encouraged her talent, and her dark and darkly humorous stories and novels were widely acclaimed, including “A Good Man is Hard to Find.” She died of lupus at the early age of 39.

Walker was born in Eatonton in 1944. The daughter of sharecroppers, she had a strong mother who encouraged Alice’s education in hopes of better opportunities. Her teachers noticed and encouraged her talent. After college, she worked in the Civil Rights Movement in Mississippi and her experiences inform her writing. Her most famous work, the novel “The Color Purple,” won the Pulitzer Prize in 1983. She lives, works and writes today in California.

The museum also displays information about the more than 60 members of Georgia Writers Hall of Fame, in

The Georgia Writers Museum is open Thursdays through Saturdays from 10 a.m to 4 p.m. It’s located at 109 S. Jefferson Ave, Eatonton, Ga 31024. (706)-991-5119. For more information: www. georgiawritersmuseum. org.

partnership with the University of Georgia Hargrett Rare Book and Manuscript Library. The university inducts the writers, and the museum exhibits their works.

But the museum doesn’t just dwell on deeds already accomplished. It is a center for encouraging current and

emerging authors and an inspiration for readers of all ages. The museum holds frequent talks and programs. On the first Tuesday of each month, award-winning authors share their stories, inspirations, and tales of how and why they write. There are also programs especially for children.

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Leave Your Leaves

Some of you may need some party conversation material to break the ice this holiday season. Since we are a bit out of practice, consider the subject of leaves.

Fall is here: the temperature is

THE ENVIRONMENTAL GARDENER

Greg Levine, co-executive director of Trees Atlanta, describes himself as happiest when his hands are in the dirt.

delightful, the mosquitoes have finally stopped biting, and the trees are at their most colorful. Winter is just around the corner, and soon those beautiful leaves will carpet the streets and lawns. Gardeners and tree lovers will not curse the trees, as no one should.

Instead, let us celebrate and be thankful: we have a reason to bundle up and spend the day outside, something too many of us avoid in the winter months. The beauty of gardening in November is that the plants are slowing down and we can as well. You can get a bit of exercise removing leaves off your sidewalks and driveway and out of your gutters.

While raking leaves is a great way to burn off your fried turkey, you really don’t need to get all of them up. You have permission to let them be. I know you don’t need anyone’s permission, but sometimes it helps.

For years I have shouted, almost gospel-like, to leave your leaves to save your trees. I realize some of your neighbors and spouses will not agree; even my own father can’t leave them be. Well, they are all wrong (Sorry, Dad!). It is so important to the trees and pretty much all of your garden plants to leave some leaves and branches, too.

Leaves insulate, protect,

and rejuvenate the soil. When leaves and small branches rot and break down, they release much-needed nutrients back into the soil, promoting healthy root growth. Leaving leaves and branches can reverse previous compaction from feet or cars to send sick, dwindling plants on their way to recovery. Not only that, but leaves also retain moisture, prevent erosion, and reduce weeds. You’ll save money by buying less mulch, soil, and fertilizers, and you’ll reduce waste in landfills.

Kids love to jump in them but hate to pick them up. So, after raking them into piles, there is more creative fun to be had. Here are a few ways to use your leaves and improve their appearance in the garden:

1. Mow over dried leaves with the bag attachment to collect them and you will be left with a beautiful, fine-textured mulch. When I walk my dogs, I am always looking for the bags of mowed leaves and always happily find them. Trash to treasure!

2. Pile the leaves up in the corner of your yard and let them break down into a compost. If you flip them a couple of times, they will break down faster and you can burn off the stuffing as well.

3. Bag them. Twenty-five years ago, my neighbor Maggie showed me how she bagged up her leaves in plastic bags, adding a bit of water. She just left the bags under her deck, occasionally turning them over. She basically made her own soil and hardly did a thing.

So, relax, have a beer, and watch the neighbors rake while you save your trees, energy, and back. Another perk? You will have plenty of time to think about planting the following trees and plants in your garden: Native persimmon (Diospyros virginiana): This tree can vary greatly in height, some growing to just over 30 feet while others grow to 70. The subtle fall

color is eclipsed by their very sweet fruits that look like little pumpkins, smaller than a golf ball but bigger than a quarter. Persimmon fruits are only edible when they appear to be overripe. If you eat the fruits too early, they will make your mouth pucker! Don’t worry about them going to waste, as all mammals

love to eat the little persimmons. It is a dioecious tree, meaning a tree is either a female or a male. Selected cultivars are not readily available, so planting a few trees will improve your chance of getting fruit.

►Mount Airy fothergilla (Fothergilla intermedia ‘Mt Airy’): A dense deciduous shrub reaching four feet tall. Their fall color ranges from red, orange to yellow. This shrub can take nearly full sun but needs welldrained, moist soil. Its white, honey-scented April flowers resemble the spherical flower protected by Dr. Seuss’s Horton the elephant.

◄Narrowleaf sunflower (Helianthus angustifolius): Blooms October to November. It can reach eight feet tall and makes a great perennial statement for your back border. It stands above and lasts longer than almost all the other fall bloomers. Its yellow flowers are bigger than a silver dollar and are loved by bees, birds, and butterflies. Makes great cut flowers, too.

Happy Thanksgiving and get out in the garden!

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