Cindy's fiftieth birthday day

Today is my wife's fiftieth birthday. She has not handled it that well, but it should get better. Tonight we are going to a Creole restaurant in Atlanta. I hope to surprise her a little bit and provide a good meal for all. I hope it goes well. My parents leave for a western trip tomorrow. We will probably go to Susan and Kevin's on Sunday.

Well, the birthday party at Redfish in Atlanta went well. The food and atmosphere was good despite the fact that it was pouring and Mom and Dad were about thirty minutes late due to traffic. I gave Cindy her gift and she was exciting about the prospect of travelling to Chicago. Tomorrow she is going to get a birthday party at Griffin Tech from all of her friends. I am sure she will like it.

Looking at Wednesday and Cindy's birthday

Well, now I can't find my glasses. It figures. Not too long ago, I could only wear my glasses because my contact lenses were not the right prescription and I couldn't read with them. Then I got my eyes checked and they fitted me for new contacts. Now I can't find my glasses. I am typing with uncorrected eyes. I am blind.

Tomorrow is another good day with many possibilities. I need to complete some tasks so I can take Cindy out in the afternoon. I am excited. I hope Cindy is too.

Tomorrow is her birthday. Happy Birthday, my little French girl.

Last Tuesday of the month

I started this morning with a trip to the State Court of Spalding County to represent a young fellow who is struggling with substance abuse problems. He is a nice young man and deserves a chance to grow out of this present problem. We are going to try to assist him in that endeavor.

When I was through, I went home to pick up Cindy and take her to work so I could continue on to Atlanta and the Fulton County Courthouse. Cindy wasn't feeling very good and she was moving like molasses. However, I finally got her in the car and headed down the road. As I was running late and needed to take her to get lunch before I dropped her off at work, I was running a little fast for the posted speed limit. The next thing I see is a Griffin City Police car coming toward me. I slowed but I could see him turning around in my side mirror. He flashed his lights and I pulled over. He took my license and insurance card and went back to the cruiser.

Unfortunately, it turned out that my insurance on this particular car had expired and not been renewed. So, I called Patti at the office and had her bring a check to State Farm to reinstate the insurance. She came out and I signed the check which she took to the local State Farm office. While I waited for her, I chatted with the policeman about all sorts of things. I recommended movies and we discussed his wife's legal problems. As it turned out, she had come to me once to discuss the problem but I had not been at the office at the time.

Anyway, as Cindy and I sat on the side of the road watching the cars go by, we pretended we were detectives on stakeout. A lady and her daughter came out and looked at us as we sat. Cindy opined that the lady had "made us." I said it was her turn to get the coffee.

Anyway, there were a lot of times in the car from here to there and back again. Finally, I completed a closing in my office for a nice couple who used to live in Griffin. He was a former First National Bank of Griffin loan officer.

Tonight, I agreed to do a closing in Buena Vista, Georgia, which is southeast of Columbus, very near Fort Benning. The company agreed to pay me extra for the problem of driving to Buena Vista. When I accepted the trip, I called the borrower who suggested we meet somewhere in between. As it turned out, we are going to meet in Thomaston, which is not that far.

It has been a long day which included some barking between parent and child about the payment of Kate's tuition. I say it has been made; the school says no. When I finally talked to the collections person, she checked her computer report to find that the payment had been made. Well, ladeda.

Well, it is on to Thomaston. Forsyth tomorrow. Another closing in the afternoon.

Black curls and cognition

It was three ten on a Monday afternoon in August
And I was lumbering down Georgia Eighty-five
Back home to Griffin from Columbus
And the hot, dry desert heat was unusual
Not the sun beating down on my thinning hair
But the lack of moisture, drawing the raw ammonia of sweat
Popping up in little pinpricks on my arms and scalp
Making misery of the sweetness sometimes found in Summer
Suavely masked behind my sly sunglasses
So perfectly chosen to cover the day's weariness
From my age and a stomach full of barbecue on a hot afternoon

When from beyond my right shoulder
Spinning up from below and behind
Like a whirl in the flow of the drift of things,
A rift in the run of material
Of that river of sweet blackness
Spinning up smoothly from below my tires
Sweetness itself, sliding along
Coming alongside me, frozen in the ice cream cool
In a wink of quick cognition:
Black,black curly locks framing
A sharp smirk of a profile and deep red lips
And her soul locked behind those cheap sunglasses
Which sit primly propped amid the unfairness or indifference
And youth.

And there her car sped off into the future beyond
Leaving me alone in my heavy plodding rumble
My past pushed before me like the prow of a merchant ship
Pulling the lines of age across my face
Dragging my path too deep below the present current
She is lost now in the stirring of memories
And buried in the eternity of wishing,
A sad, sad reminder and a signpost to present inadequacies
And the cut of irrelevancy.

Mohammed Ali

This evening I was listening to NPR on a trip to North Upson County for a closing. During the broadcast, the hostess interviewed the wife of Mohammed Ali, who was speaking about her part in a charity dealing with Parkinson's Disease, which has victimized her husband. She was speaking about her husband and his struggle with the disease. She was also talking about the care-givers across the world who minister to their loved ones. It reminded me of my interest in Ali since I was a child.

I was only three years old when Ali, then known as Cassius Clay, won gold in the Rome Olympics. He was a light heavyweight, who had started boxing in Louisville as a boy under the tutelage of a Louisville policeman, when his bike was stolen. He was speed and quickness personified and he had a bubbly charm to his personality which was unusual in most athletes. He was on his way.

By the time I was old enough to really know who he was, he had become the Heavyweight Champion of the World by knocking out Sonny Liston. I was a small boy, living in Indianapolis, with a Kentucky sized chip on my shoulders. Everybody who paid attention knew that I was from south of the Ohio River. I was so proud to be from the state that gave us Cassius Clay, the Heavyweight Champion of the World.

Later, when he changed his name to Mohammed Ali and pledged allegiance to the Muslims, it was a small blip on my radar. For a lot of people this was a problem. This was an American icon becoming part of the cultural struggle that civil rights and racial struggles became in the 60's.

Then, of course, came the refusal to participate in the draft or to serve, like so many young men, in the war in Southeast Asia. Again, he became a lightening rod for Americans on which to focus the debate. They stripped his title in his prime and prevented him from practicing his craft.

Meanwhile, I was getting older too. I would wonder about the seeming hypocrisy of someone who would fight for a living but would not fight for his country. I would wonder about the allegiance to a faith which was strange to me and seemed threatening. Like the changes and losses going on in the time, I wondered about the events going on in Mohammed Ali's life.

Still, I was so excited, living in Atlanta, Georgia, when the boxing powers that were allowed him to come out of banishment to fight a comeback fight in Atlanta. I liked Jerry Quarry, the Irish-American heavyweight. I suppose I might have had more in common with his genetic background. However, he wasn't from Kentucky.

The geographical kinship between us was too strong. I haven't had a tie to a boxer like that other than Evander Holifield, who lives in the adjoining county. I have always appreciated the fact that Ali came from the same little state just south of the Ohio River. I know there is very little similarity between the two of us. However, I have never let it stand in the way of my admiration of the man and the boxer.

I have often wondered if Mohammed Ali would mind if I prayed for him. I confess that I have often prayed for him and his soul. I don't mean this as a slur against his faith. I mean it as a sincere offering to God on his behalf. I will continue to pray for his salvation from time to time, as I pray for others I care for. I would love to meet him and find out if he would object to my continued prayers. I think he would respect my desires and my faith, just as I would his.

I also pray for his ability to deal with his illness and I pray for his family that they would be able to continue to care for him in his illness. I also pray for others who are inflicted with this illness.

A long hot weekend

This weekend began with an evening with my parents in Dunwoody and supper at CB South for Cindy and me. Early Friday morning (actually not as early as we originally intended) we drove off to Clinton,South Carolina with the balance of what Kate wanted to start with in her senior year at PC. It would have been better if Tex had been at home, but we got it completed, then Cindy and I travelled north and west into North Carolina and on to Tennessee. In the middle of our trip, we encountered a good bit of rain south of Ashville which continued on west across the Smokies into Tennessee. It finally ended as we crossed over into Seveir County, where the weather turned back to heat, dryness and oppressive sunshine.

That night, we made it to Cindy's parents' house to find every thing in disarray, awaiting the advent of the movers on Saturday morning. It was clear that Cindy's parents were stressed and lost in the details of getting everything packed and ready for the movers.

The problem was exacerbated by the inability to sort out things to get rid of. This was particularly true concerning Cindy's father. He had so much stuff in that workroom which he couldn't part with. Aggh!

Anyway, Saturday came and went and a small army of people got the substantial part of that mess moved from one house to the other. By the time we got to eight o'clock p.m., we needed a shower curtain and liner for the upstairs bathroom to allow Cindy and me to shower the salty sweat from our bodies and we needed food for all of us. I went to Target and Wendy's to accomplish these tasks. Spent about $76 in total, added to the $20 I spent for lunch. Money was just hemmoraghing from everybody.

This morning I awoke and read out on the back steps of the new house. I knew we needed another morning of moving small things that the movers had left. I sat and watched the underground sprinkler system watering the grass and the cement of the patio and the cushions of the outdoor chairs. It occurred to me the contrast between these upper class houses, watering their grass and patios, while the farmers of Central Georgia couldn't get rain to water their corn. I remembered fields of corn, where the corn was tastled out on plants no higher than three or four feet. So sad. So ironic when these effete snobs were watering their lawns to protect their property values and the appearance of their images.

We all need to live somewhere. Do we need to spend so much money on our shelters? What does it say about our values when the farmers who feed us can't afford to provide the water to their crops when we douse our lawns with an abundance of H2O for no other reason than to improve our images? I think our values are skewed and selfish. What will happen when we can't afford the food that we need to feed oursleves? The most famous line from Wendell Berry, in my mind is, "Eating is an agricultural event." I may not have got that completely right, but the meaning is understood.

We arrived back in Georgia this evening to rain from Hapeville on to Griffin. I watched the weather and it seems better. Maybe Autumn is coming. May I truly be grateful for the food I eat and the farmers that grew it.

What a difference a day makes?

Yesterday afternoon I had a hearing in Federal District Court in Atlanta facing me in which the attorney for the other side was trying to convince the judge to sanction me, possibly by fines or worse. I had called a local attorney friend of mine who had counselled me on making a claim on my malpractice insurance. I had taken the extra course of calling a lawyer friend in Gainesville, Florida to check on the reputation of the two attorneys with which I had been associated.

Meanwhile, Patti showed me an article on msn talking about several lenders which were either going out of business or down-sizing their operations. I spoke to a client to question him about a closing someone was trying to do on a house in Atlanta and he knew nothing about it. I anticipated a lot of expenses in the next few days to get Kate ensconced in school and my in laws happy and in their new house. A lot of stormy skies. No fun.

Now, I find that the hearing in Atlanta is cancelled, the case is resolved and I am scheduled to receive $6000.00 in payment of my fees and expenses. A story on NBC showed that Bank of America is enfusing cash into Countrywide Home Loans to keep them afloat. There is still an outside chance that the closing may happen and one of my clients brought a check for $500 for two new cases. Bring out the bands; start the weekend parade!

The word for today on my antique word calendar is "feague". What that means is the practice of inserting ginger or a live eel in the butt of a horse to make him appear lively. I can only hope that this good feeling is not a feague. I guess I better check my orifices.

Darkness to light

Yesterday afternoon, I picked Cindy up from work and drove her home. We ate red beans and rice and sat around but I was waiting on a call from PR and AB. I kept checking the emails on my three email addresses and didn't get the response they had prepared until 10:30 last evening. After that, I spoke to P and A about the pleadings and the coming hearing on Thursday morning which was the end of the line in many ways. The hearing would hold the possibility of sanction and damages to the plaintiff/appellees against us, including myself. The response we discussed talked about the fraud of the name claimants and I realized that no one was wiped clean, we all showed our sin.

This morning, I awaited word from A about the possibility of settlement. At lunch, we discussed the possibility that I would be paid for my work this summer. As the afternoon wore on the possibility became realized and now I await payment from the plaintiff's attorneys for my time and effort.

This is not what we wanted. The settlement between the parties is still patently unfair. The lawyers still get all the money and the class gets substantially nothing. However, I am out and I am free and I can go on, having exacted a bit of revenge on the big law firms of Atlanta. In the end, I was asked by several attorneys if I wanted to continue representing objectors in class action suits.
After the stress and anxiety and the thrill of litigation and standing up for someone else, I said yes, I would. How strangely wonderful.

I talked to a lawyer friend of mine who is an attorney in Gainesville, Florida and caught a glimpse of the reputation of the attorneys with whom I had been involved. I also talked with an attorney/friend about the possibility of having to pay a fine if I was sanctioned. Even beyond that, I would probably do it again. Hopefully wiser and smarter at how I get into this, how I deal with it. We all make mistakes; we must learn from our mistakes. Still, I am not really sure that it is a mistake. We shall see.

PTC and beyond

Today was my day in PTC (Peachtree City). I began with a closing in the morning with a gentleman who moved there from what he described as "Dunwoody" but sounded like Roswell to me. There is quite a difference in terrain and a whole swatch of Chattahoochee River before you get from Dunwoody to Roswell. He said he lived on Holcomb Bridge Road (which is in Roswell). He lived in Roswell,not Dunwoody.

Anyway, he was originally from what he referred to as the "Upcountry" in South Carolina. I asked him where, and he said Greenville. Well, that was accurate. Anyway, he was a former religion major from Furman and knew a lot about "Presbyterian College."

He was a nice gentleman and I enjoyed the visit.

So anyway, I left PTC and returned to Griffin, only to pick up Kate and return to PTC for eye appointments. I took $250 to pay for both, but it turned out to be $36, so I had plenty of money for lunch and a trip to Joseph Banks. I bought a pair of pants for $10, a tie for $15 and a dress shirt for $10. It was quite a shopping trip.

Anyway, it was nice to spend a bit of the afternoon with the child unit. Unfortunately, she still had to go to Fayetteville to do more shopping in preparation for college, year four.

The time is winding down.More moving to come.More movements to come. Ladeda.

By the way, moment of irony: Cindy got an opportunity for the two of us to volunteer at Piedmont Park during the Allman Brothers/Dave Matthews concert. She called me to call me about it and I had to say "no" because of the plans with Larry and Andrea and Cissie for that weekend. Arghhh!

Materialism's ending

We are not the things we carry
We shall pass through this vale
And some will know us by the turn of our faces
But some will know us by the force
Of our actions in commerce
With their lives, the meanderings
And interweavings of the sanguine flow
Of blood, and water and shallow breathing
In and out, in and out
Together, a sweet, sad dance
Forging connection where
Connection did not exist
Yet seemed to be ordained
Like a loss we saw coming
From far away,
But not when or who or where.

Until the dry, red dirt
Upon which we played as children,
Is now covered with the refuse of other children
Or replaced by the schemes and conniving
Of wearying businessmen,
And becomes the clay in which we lie
And the dust to which we evolve.

But the things we did carry fritter away
Into tarnished, tattered brassy bits
Discarded on a pile, like the dust we are.

And we are not the things we carried;
We are the dust which scatters on a September wind,
The shadows tossed to the twilight of Autumn's coming
Trapped in grey concrete conduits like the crisp dying leaves,
We are a last flash of color in the dying light.

Weekend in Knoxville

This weekend was somewhat tough. I connected with Cindy and Cissie at my parent's house and with the addition of a trip to Perimeter for Cindy, we headed to Knoxville around 6:30. A long trip to East Tennessee that got us to the Sicards around 11:30 at night. It was around 12:30 by the time we got to bed. I read a bit and then fell asleep.

I slept pretty well and woke up around 6:30 in the morning. I ate breakfast with the inlaws and then went to work trying to help them get ready for the move to the new house. The most significant action was getting the stained-glass roseate in the upper window in the great room. It was about 25 feet up, hanging from two hooks in front of the high window. We did that outside the watching of my mother in law who wanted the glass down, but did not want to know it was happening.

We ended up eating at Missy's house and I went back to the Sicard's house and slept rather fitfully that night.

The next morning, I woke up and we went to work on getting things packed. Cindy's dad and I worked in the workroom in the basement. We cleared out several shelfs with various items. It took awhile and we worked hard but didn't get everything done. Unfortunately, the father in law is a meticulous packrat and has things he saved from New Orleans to Atlanta to Orange County to Thousand Oaks to Knoxville. It was wild. He wanted me to take things and I have my own problems with packratism. I turned him down most of the time. Of course, I have no sentimentalism for most of this stuff and its rather easy for me.

Anyway, we left about 2:30 and got home around 7:00. Fun weekend. I am very tired and don't look forward to a rough night before tomorrow morning. Next weekend we take Kate up and then go back to Knoxville. Fun.

Friday afternoon and the long haul

This has been a long day and I feel as if there is a whole other day that I have to complete after this one. I woke up early so I could get Kate's help in moving her chest of drawers from her room down to the Ford Explorer for transmission to Knoxville. Why this was necessary, I have no idea. Next, I had to deal with the usual items required in a morning: outdoor potty for the dog, make coffee for the spouse, handle my morning ablutions, drive to work, open up the office, try to get myself in gear. Oddly, Patti was here before I got here. She was working on getting closing packages ready for closing today. I worked pretty hard and went home at 11:00. When home, I found the city working on the water system. No water. Cindy was trying to leave to go pick up Cissie for our eventual trip to Knoxville. Kate was completing her morning ablutions. They finally left at around 12:00. I left too. I went back to the office and got ready for my 1:00 o'clock closing. It went ok, although the seller was somewhat of a pill. I then worked on trying to get the deposits ready for deposit. We actually had a pretty good day. Not great, but good. Now I am at the end of a long afternoon waiting for Patti to return from the banks. I will make one series of deposits and go pack and pick up Tex for transmission to Dunwoody where I will pick up spouse and Cissie and drive to Knoxville for more packing fun. This will be a good weekend. Next week is getting Kate ready and back to Federal District Court. Well, Patti is here. I will be able to leave now.

Judge Tom

I've seen this before:
You appear in front of some
World-weary, suspicious judge
Who used to care about things
But now doesn't have to
And you are amazed and astonished
Like some Biblical prophet
At what comes springing from his lips
In response to your argument,
Your argument built like a brick cardhouse:
A foundation of sturdy opinions past
The framing, some wooden construct
That everybody acknowledges
So you're safe there,
But the paint, shingles and soffit
Are what are seen, what is so shiny and new
And impressive, even if you do say so yourself,
Only to get some response from leftfield
Out in the tall grass
Or he wants you to write it for him
Or decide it with the cooperation
Of counsel for the other side
Who hates you and your client
And mistrusts you both
And called you a son of a bitch
To his wife last night
Muttering under the thin sheets
And you actually liked the guy

And after its all through,
Your client is wondering why he wrote you that check
And wondering if he can put a stop payment on it
And questioning your education and experience
And contemplating a bar complaint
Or some tv lawyer who looks so trustworthy
And doesn't mind suing other lawyers

So, who would you know who could bend the governer's ear
And get you an appointment as the junior judge in the circuit
So you could sit in the tall grass,
On the sturdy oaken bench, and suffer no fools gently,
And spring forth pearls like a toiling oyster
Lying on a sugary beach on your vacation
With the problems of others, a sad memory soon forgotten,
Behind sunglasses and suntan lotion,
A cool beverage in your hand.

Ahh, tenure.

Clouds before sunshine

Quite often as I traverse a month, the money we receive in payment for services is hard to assess on a daily basis. You have a day like today where the only thing you receive is a check for $27.00 and you wonder if you will be able to meet all of your obligations. Everything looks dark and stormy and dreary. You sit in your chair and consider pitching it all to become a cowboy or a fisherman or an itinerant musician playing for change in the underground hallways of a subway station. You go home and mope around the house and your wife and child wonder what the hell you want to continue doing the things you do to make a living. The dog hides in the kennel cage, trying to avoid your wrath. Usually, the dog will lay a tender pile of poop or a warm pond of urine somewhere to acknowledge that the man in charge is in need of something. That something is questionable and especially so when you consider the fevered mind of the dog cogitating in the dark cage. Why would he do such a thing? Is it a sign of confirmation that you are in charge or is it just a reflex response to the situation? Who knows? Do I need to take him to a dog psychologist? Would it matter?

The nice thing about it is that if you keep plodding along and try to make it work, the money will usually dribble in. Maybe not in a way that meets your complete satisfaction, but at least complete enough to keep the ball rolling. It reminds me of the wisdom of Beowulf: if a man's courage is good he will survive the struggles of life. It makes me think of The Thirteenth Warrior, the movie made out of the Ken Follett Book which retold the Beowulf story. I remember the scene at the end when the dying Beowulf sits and waits for death, after destroying the army of the bear people. He looks so resigned and satisfied with his fate.

Perhaps, I will leave this afternoon, open a cool beer, and bask in the cool, air-conditioned darkness of the living room. I will contemplate the things that went wrong and the things that worked right and close my eyes in the resignation which will settle my beating heart.

Tuesday in the country

I left Monday without writing anything. I hate it when that happens. Today, my day started with a trip to a borrower's house in the country in Northeastern Meriwether County. This place was so far back in the sticks that Mapquest led you to the entrance of their road and didn't dare to go down lest the computer signal get lost in the dust. The problem was that the house was at the other end of the road.

I left Griffin fairly early in the morning to give myself some time to get to the house. I passed the entrance to the road the first time because it was a very narrow dirt road. I couldn't turn around until I got to Haralson, which is the next county. I turned around and missed the road again. I finally turned around and found the road. The unfortunate part of this was the fact that there are virtually no houses on this road. I drove over railroad tracks and past cattle and abandoned tenant houses and such, but no address. All the time I was trying to contact the borrowers on my cell phone as the signal faded in and out.

I was also having trouble getting someone from the service provider that had arranged for my services and had decided to drive back to Griffin. I stopped in Alvaton one last time and made the telephone call to the only person in Aliquippa, Pennsylvania that I could contact. She told me to hold on and she would try to contact the borrowers and have them call me. I sat in my car and read the bible while I awaited a call. Suddenly, the phone rang and I picked it up. The voice of the borrower started speaking and then the connection died. I tried to call back and got voicemail. Suddenly the service provider called back and assured me she would call the borrower again. Meanwhile, I was able to call the borrower and get connected. She arranged for her husband to meet me at a crossroads near their house and I drove to meet him.

When I finally got to the place of meeting, he led me to their house, which was the first house down the dirt road, but at the other end of the road. I parked my car behind the borrower's pickup truck and he immediately took me back to the side of his house where he had ten or twelve ten or twelve foot tall tomato plants planted. Each plant was bushy and full and held plenty of green tomatoes.

To make a long story short, we went inside to conduct the closing and I left with a bag of tomatoes and cucumbers for my trouble. Nice folks.

Gas station gothic

The Shell station down Maddox Road and around the corner from our house is the closest gas station to home, so is the most convenient gas station to us and a place at which we find ourselves from time to time. Back two years ago when gas prices were not so outrageous and the place at which we filled the car didn't matter as much, we were there quite often.

At the time, the main clerk behind the counter was a woman near our age who wore too much makeup and had collagen lips. We called her "Big lip Woman" outside her hearing. She was nice and kept the front counter covered with ciggarette smoke any time you came in.

In the back of the store sat four electronic poker games with metal stools, like bar stools, in front of each of the machines. Ordinarily, an older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and an ample stomach sat and smoked and played video poker from first light to suppertime. His name was "Bud." Beside him sat an elderly black woman, known as "Wino Woman" who bought beer and wine throughout the day and battled the poker machines in an effort to win enough money to make the whole process work for the next day.

Funerals, shopping and osterias

Yesterday, we showered, primped and drove to Eatonton in the middle of triple digit heat to attend a funeral for the father of Lisa Hopkins. When we got to Eatonton, we found a little cafe/book store on the square across from the courthouse. Like a return to the forty's, the cafe seemed like the only place that was air-conditioned and the people were cordial. It was a return to a place and time that seems like it should have disappeared a long time ago. Like Clarksville and Hopkinsville lost in my childhood memories.

As we sat and sipped on sweet tea, we listened to the patrons and the help discuss the intimacies of their lives: weddings, children, hopes and losses. The airconditioned air brought us comfort, but not like the comfort of sharing a brief bit with the folks around us. Our waitress was giddy with anticipation of an impending wedding in September. There were patrons meeting one another and sharing news about friends and children and relatives we didn't know but felt included in the tapestry.

We had a surprisingly excellent luncheon, the food, the atmosphere and people were delightful. Afterward, we got back in our car and drove around the corner and parked in the shade of the trees along the residential streets. We walked down to the First Baptist church and entered. The funeral service was personal and comforting in its informality and richness in the details of the life of someone who was a friend, husband, father and grandfather to the people around us. It was clear that Mr. Corley's place in the community and at the table would cause a loss to all.Amongst the feeling of loss were stories of humor, friendship and love. One could only hope that the ceremony that awaits us all will be as filled with as much true sentiment, friendship and comfort.

After the ceremony, we drove to a Dairy Queen and changed clothes in the restrooms there. Buying a couple of cool treats in subtle thanks for the changing rooms, we drove on up US 441 to Madison and Interstate Twenty to Atlanta. In Atlanta, we drove to IKEA, a Swedish home decorating store, with stores all over the world. The place was full of foreign voices and dialects, confusing in its plenty, full of the world coming to Georgia. Cindy and Kate filled their bags with decorating materials, knick-knacks and gim-gaws. We were buying items to ensure Kate was ready to return to college in South Carolina. Every year is the same, buying stuff for Kate's room.

I don't know if the times are different or if it is a matter of gender difference or both. When I went off to college in 1975, I could just about carry everything I needed in the trunk of my car. Year to year, the items and the amount of material necessary for a year away from home didn't change. Even the items themselves rarely changed in four years. But with Kate, every year is a new opportunity to redecorate and add items of clothing and decorating style. Girls are different, definitely different.

Anyway, after the shopping trip, we drove over to Osteria Figo Pasta, and used the last of my cash for pasta, red wine and conversation. The atmosphere there is loud but fun and informal. Again, we were caught up in the swirl of conversation, good, inexpensive Italian food and loud birthday wishes in Italian. It was a simple time but a good time to share with each other. As we ended the day in a Barnes & Noble in Fayetteville, it was nice to share the love and interests and friendship we have for each other in such differing environments. It was an unusual, small combination of all of our lives drawn together in an afternoon and evening. Only the temperature and the location changes.

The end of the week

Friday was another hot day in Central Georgia. Temperatures hit the low 100's for a second day. Today, they expect the temperature to hit 100 again. We are having record lows where the temperature doesn't go lower than the 80's. This is no desert; this is an oven.

We are also having brown-outs one or two times a day. I come home and the power is out or I wake up in the morning and the electric clocks are flashing a time in the middle of the night. I really look forward to Autumn. I know that September will be warm and dry, but it would be nice to be a little cooler than what we have had recently.

Having said all this, I also know that up till recently the summer had been fairly mild. We were getting regular rain and the vegetation was looking green and perky.

I am also hopeful that we can get some closings completed this week. I am beginning to have a lot of closing requests, but nothing that closes. As we head toward the middle of the month, the witness only closings pick up. They wanted me to close one last night.

I need to keep the money flowing. With Cindy's plans to drive up to Tennessee two week in a row and to help Kate with her move-in, we will need a whole lot more money than normal. It is not a good month for low income.

Well, today we travel to Eatonton for Lisa Hopkins' father's funeral. I am not sure what the plans are beyond that.

A short history of Griffin, Georgia, part four

4. 1880-1990

Perhaps the most significant events in the return of economic strength to the South, were the election of Democrat, Grover Cleveland, to two terms in the latter part of the Nineteenth Century and the delivery of the "New South" speech delivered by Henry Grady in New York City. With the election of a Democrat in the White House, Reconstruction ended and the Southern states were reinstituted into the union. However, with the delivery of the "New South" speech by Henry Grady, northern industrialists and entrepeneurs began to look at the south as a place of opportunity.

During this time, cotton mills were seemingly established in every city, town and hamlet in the southeast. It was during this time that the first mills were constructed in Griffin, beginning with the Kincaid Mill. The proximity of cotton and cheap labor drove the mill owners to relocate from New England and the middle Atlantic states to the southeast. Textiles began to rival and even supplant the agricultural portion of the economy in Griffin and Spalding County. As the years progressed, more and more farm workers, the children of farmers, and even the farmers themselves, left the farms upon which they had been raised and made their way to the mill villages which sprang up around the mills in Griffin.

The general economy of Griffin began to thrive. Griffin became a more significant part of the farming communities around Spalding County. Having the railroad and the mills which bought the cotton grown on the farms continued to grow the economy in Griffin. Griffin became the market town for the surrounding counties in the area, the place where people came to buy and sell and build their wealth.

However, the economic gains of the middle and upper classes in Griffin did not pass on completely to the lower classes, particularly the African-American citizens of Griffin. Life was still hard on tenant farms and in the growing shanty towns which housed the majority of African-Americans in Griffin and Spalding County. As a result, many African-Americans continued to leave Griffin for northern cities and the promise of jobs in existing industries in the north.

The racial divide in Spalding County was burdensome on the African-Americans, who were continuously under the thumb of the white citizens of Griffin. The Ku Klux Klan was revived in the early part of the Twentieth Century and they grew stronger as the century continued. The behavior of the African-American citizens of Spalding County was constantly under the eye of the government and under the control of the unofficial "police" patrolling the county streets.

The continous exodus off the farms in the county to the industrial factories of the north was especially prevalent during the Depression and afterward. Opportunity and the promised deliverance from racism, a promise which often proved untrue, drove many people toward the large cities of Chicago, Philadelphia, Detroit and Cleveland. One such citizen of Spalding County who found his way to Chicago and, ultimately, Philadelphia, was Dox Thrash. Thrash grew up in northern Spalding County on a small farm. In his late teens, Dox left Spalding County to go on the road as an entertainer. Thrash served in African-American units during World War One. Ultimately, he made his way to Chicago where he enrolled in art school in the 1920's. Graduating from art school at the end of the Twenty's, Thrash became an artist just as the Depression gripped the nation.

After the election of Franklin Delano Roosevelt in 1932 and the establishment of programs for relief and assistance under the New Deal, Dox Thrash found employment with the WPA. Soon, his art work was depicting the workers in industry in northern cities. After the Depression ended, Thrash located to Philadelphia where he worked as a printer. It was during his time as a printer in Philadelphia, in which Thrash developed a new mode of printing which allowed Thrash to produce some amazing works of art. These works of art have found their way into exhibits at the Philadelphia Museum of Art and elsewhere. Sadly, because of his race, few people in Griffin have even heard of Dox Thrash. Even most African-Americans in Griffin, some having lived here all their lives, have never heard of the printer/artist who was born in Spalding County and found fame in Philadelphia and Chicago.

In the 1950's, Wyomia Tyus, another African-American who grew up in Spalding County, left Griffin for fame and fortune elsewhere. Wyomia Tyus attended Tennessee State University in Nashville, where she participated on the track team. In the late 50's and early 60's, Tyus represented the United States and won gold medals in sprints and relays. Again, sadly, because of her race, no parades or welcoming ceremonies would come for her in Griffin until the 1996 Summer Olympics in Atlanta. Having left Griffin for California, Tyus was chosen to participate in the torch run as it came to the courthouse in Griffin. Finally being honored for her accomplishments, she could witness to the racial changes which had finally occurred in Griffin since she was a young women.

In the late sixties, the civil rights movement finally made its way to Spalding County. As in many communities, the leaders of the African-American community met with the more progressive white citizens of Griffin. Voting rights and the ability to place black citizens in elected positions of power literally changed the complexion of government in Spalding County. In the late sixties and early seventies, the school system, which had been operated as an unequal, separate system for decades, combined in order to integrate the schools. As the children were integrated in the schools, the opportunities of African-Americans in Griffin grew. By the eighties, African-Americans were spreading out from the traditional jobs as laborers, domestics, and food preparers and servers to bankers, lawyers and doctors. Suddenly, a lot of African-American citizens began to return to communities like Griffin to live. Many lived in neighborhoods which had been established with restrictive covenants which forebade the sale of houses to "people of color." Realtors started showing houses in "white neighborhoods" to African-Americans, Hispanic-Americans and Asian-Americans. Suddenly, the complexion of the neighborhoods became more racially mixed.

In the meantime, the textile industry was changing. Labor for textile required little education in the beginning. However, other industry require more technical knowledge and education. At the same time, the monetary requirements of textile workers increased, reducing the profits of the textile companies. In Griffin, the textile mills which dominated the city began to close or move their facilities to other states, other countries and other continents. As had happened at the end of the 19th century when textile manufacturers followed the cheap labor to Georgia, the companies continued to relocate to Mexico, Central America, and finally to Asia. The passing of NAFTA (North American Free Trade Agreement), intended to make the balance of trade fair between the countries constituting North America (Canada, USA and Mexico), instead, caused more companies to leave their homes to go follow the cheaper and cheaper labor and overhead. The end result was the end of textiles as a viable industry in Griffin.

Meanwhile, certain decisions made by the citizens of Griffin and elsewhere had an adverse effect on the growth of Griffin, just as the decision to ignore the opportunity to have the intersection of the north/south and east/west railroad lines in Griffin. The next large negative decision was the decision for the route of Interstate 75 to change from the present route of U.S. 19/41 to the present eastern route through Henry County. This decision was probably made by politicians in Henry and Clayton County who had the political power to alter the original route to the present route. The end result was the failure of Griffin to have close access to an interstate highway.

The second adverse decision was the choice to refuse the opportunity to have a four year college located in Griffin. Given this opportunity, the town fathers chose to turn down this opportunity in favor of technical education. This choice turned down the positive affects of a college atmosphere located in the city of Griffin. The irony of this decision is that earlier, city fathers had located small colleges in Griffin.

Finally, in the early 90's, city government tried to relocate the existing public airport to a site in the western part of the county. FAA officials considered the plan and approved same. Money was set aside for the creation of a newer, bigger airport. However, some local negative response from adjoining landowners caused the city and county governments to decide not to relocate the airport. Now, the airport has been reduced from its former use. The construction of residential subdivisions along the approach route has reduced the ability of the airport authority to extend the runway. At this point, the issue of a larger local airport is on hold, probably forever.

1990-present

The last twenty years in Griffin have seen a waxing and waning of the population and industry in the city. At the same time, adjoining counties have seen huge growth, in connection with the general growth in Metropolitan Atlanta. The growth in Henry, Fayette and Coweta counties has come about for several reasons. First of all, proximity to the Atlanta Airport and I-75 and I-85 has helped the growth of these counties. Next, the availiability of large areas of undeveloped land, for relatively cheap prices has helped as well. Finally, the existence of city and county governments which were pro-development, helped builders and residential developers to develop the farm land into residential developments, strip shopping centers and other commercial developments. The centrality of Griffin as market town and place of culture and commerce has disappeared.

At the same time, the government in Griffin and Spalding County have fought over the possibility of growth, both residential, commercial and industrial. Griffin has not had the same pro-development appearance as the other counties in the southern crescent.

However, certain changes have pointed to future development. First of all, the University of Georgia did expand their facilities in Griffin to allow for future expansion of the instruction in Griffin. The facility is now known as the University of Georgia, Griffin campus. Secondly, a new residential development on the north side of Spalding County has promised a potential growth in the area. Finally, infrastructure improvements along Georgia 16 to Interstate 75 and on Georgia 155 into Henry County have promised better access to downtown Griffin from the interstate. In addition,the over-crowding of contiguous counties has pushed growth into Spalding County. The perception of Griffin as a community far from Atlanta has been reduced by the expansion of Metropolitan Atlanta into farther and farther counties. Finally, the possibility of rail service through Griffin to link to the rapid transit and airport in Atlanta promises the return of Griffin as a transportation hub.

As a county close to the ever-growing metropolis of Atlanta, Spalding will see growth in the future. Perhaps the only question is how we manage that growth and what kind of growth will come. The present leaders of Griffin must look with confidence and wisdom toward the future. Mistakes have been made over the years which have harmed or inhibited the growth of Griffin. All we can do is learn from our mistakes and go forward.

Double, double standards, part deux

I agree that we have problems and need to work on them. I am afraid that our problems are deeper than we think and go beyond any problems we have with each other. I love you and I love Kate. Kate and I don't conspire against you. At least we don't conspire consciously.

To a certain degree you have always treated Kate like your mother treats you. You have tried to control the way she thinks about things and have second-guessed her in a lot of the choices she makes. I, on the other hand have tried to treat Kate like my buddy. In addition, I have realized that when Kate made the decision to go away for college she would individuate, get into some things that neither you nor I would appreciate, and end up seeming to be at cross purposes to you and me. On the other hand, I know that Kate is not really going to stray far from you or me. I have seen a lot of you in her over the past few months. That can be frustrating at times. But most of the time I am glad she takes after her mother.

I get frustrated with Kate when she treats me like I am the child and she is the parent. I get frustrated with you when you do that too. I have been on the receiving end of a lot of faint praise over the last few months. It came from attorneys, judges and people I love.

As you know, I have been battling depression for the past year or so. It may have been longer. I don't really have any good friends anymore. Part of that is my fault. When Bob Bugg called me the other day, that was the first contact with a male friend I had had for several years. I don't feel like I have the opportunity to develop any friendships. This extends from my friends from college who used to be very close to my adult friends now. Add to this the fact that I have even lost some of my male friends, like David Finney and Ken Smith, and life is tough. No doubt.

I apologize for the stress I have put on you in trying to deal with my depression. I apologize for the stress I have put you through because of my struggles with my business. I am sorry for the stress that my family puts you through from time to time.

It hasn't always been a bad trip. A trip to Prague, an afternoon in Atlanta, a holiday in Florida at Thanksgiving. Uncle David said at our rehearsal dinner to look at the doughnut and not at the hole. Sage advice.

Double standards

Why is there such a double standard? On Friday we talked about the need for losing weight. On Tuesday, we spoke about eating a healthy lunch. This afternoon we discussed the disappearance of the ice cream. Are we really worried about what we are eating? If so, why are we worried about what brand of ice cream is in the freezer?

Today, we left work early so we could drive an hour into the country to buy peach ice cream. When we got there the place was closed. Were we upset because we wasted two hours in driving through the August heat for no reason other than to waste the time and the gas and the money? No. We were really upset because we got no peach ice cream.

What difference does it make? We are still too fat. We are still wasting time and money and effort for little grins like ice cream when what we really need is the discipline to avoid this stuff. How stupid that we wasted words on what brand of ice cream was in the freezer. A better remark would be to wonder why we have it at all.

We are better experts on the eating habits and needs of the other members of the family rather than ourselves. How stupid. We need consistency and discipline.

So much disturbance over the label on the ice cream carton. Silly.

I wrote this twice because the computer ate part of it before I could save it. Also stupid.

A short history of Griffin, Georgia, part three

1866-1880

Immediately after the end of the War Between the States, those Confederate soldiers and sailors who survived the war returned home to Griffin to a place devastated by Sherman's war on the civilians of Georgia. Griffin itself had avoided the destruction of its commercial buildings and railroads. However, the railroad line leading from Griffin to the outside world and buildings of any commercial or military importance in the area had been destroyed. The slave labor was no longer available as it had been before the war. For the former slaves, those who didn't leave to seek their fortune in the west or north, had no capital or property with which to start their own lives.

After the assassination of President Lincoln the radical Republicans instituted Reconstruction and posted military authority over the states of the former Confederacy. Former soldiers and sailors in the Confederacy were not immediately allowed to hold office, vote, or exercise their civil rights. Opportunists from the north came down to the South to take advantage of the opportunities available in a beaten region. To many citizens of Griffin it must have felt as if the world had turned upside down.

There was severe economic breakdown in Griffin which lasted for fifteen years. During this time, the citizens of Griffin made do with what they had and the area struggled to survive. Many citizens left Griffin to find their fortunes elsewhere. The commerce and infrastructure which had meant so much to Griffin slowly attempted to return to health.

The farmers and landowners in the area instituted a system of tenant farming which allowed them to begin cultivating their land. However, this system didn't replace the cheap labor to the landowners and constituted a new type of involuntary servitude for the former slaves which lasted for another one hundred years.

Then Reconstruction ended and the real struggle began. Life in the tenant farm system became mean and desperate. This was the system which created the hatred and inequity which lasted another one hundred years or more.

Wealth derived from agriculture peaked in this area about the time that the industrial revolution began in earnest. That is not to say that agriculture died with the coming of industry and manufacturing. Agriculture continued to survive long into the twentieth century and still remains as a viable source of income today. However, the income derived from agriculture is swayed by so many factors which are only slightly manageable. Weather, soil conditions, the cost of land, equipment and labor and market conditions are only a few parts of what goes into the economy of agriculture. This has always been the case. The coming of the Civil War and the adjustments which occurred during Reconstruction were the birth pains of a new economy in Griffin and Spalding County.

A short history of Griffin, Georgia, part two

3. 1841-1865

The state of Georgia began on the eastern coast just south of South Carolina, specifically in the planned city of Savannah. Savannah was laid out by the Englishman, James Oglethorpe, as a military outpost against the Spanish colony in Florida. This planning, while intelligent in design, did not stop Savannah from being defeated twice in war: once in the Revolution and once in the Civil War. Nevertheless, from Savannah, Georgia spread south to the Florida border, the limit of Spanish influence at the time, and northwesterly away from Savannah toward lands originally inhabited by Native Americans in Georgia. As European settlement of Georgia spread out and away from Savannah and the coast, the permanence of this settlement strengthened with the technology developed and implemented in the Georgia frontier. Perhaps the best example of this was the establishment of the railroad.

By the end of the 1830's, the railroad system which began near the docks at the seaport of Savannah extended through the disappearing wilderness that was Central Georgia toward Macon. Macon was a growing town which provided a central market for the crops grown on the farms of the area in and around Bibb County. The establishment of the railroad line from Macon to Savannah allowed farmers along the way to transport their goods to the main port in Georgia which was Savannah. This technical and transportation system allowed farmers along the railroad to transport and sell their crops to others along the path of the railroad and on to the world that connected with Georgia through the port of Savannah.

However, another product of a Georgia farm added even more economic clout to the farmers of Georgia. Eli Whitney, a Yankee inventor sojourning on a Georgia farm, invented the cotton gin in the early 1800's, an invention which made the removal of seeds from the cotton bolls easier, thus causing the fruit of the cotton plant to become a more economical product for transport and sale to European countries hungry for the raw materials used for the production of their clothing and fabric. The advent of more workable raw material through ginned cotton created a demand which drove the price and the desire to cultivate cotton all over the southeast United States. Suddenly, every farmer in Georgia was cultivating cotton on every available acre of land. The ability to transport that cotton by rail to Savannah and on to Europe by ship made the allure of cotton production that much stronger.

The earlier establishment of slavery on these farms made the process that much more productive. Suddenly, farms were being established with greater acreage. Small farms were squeezed out by larger plantations which extended their economic power through more slave labor. Every element involved in the process created more wealth in the area. The banks of Macon, Georgia were accumulating greater and greater wealth.

In this environment, bankers and entrepeneurs in Macon and elsewhere bonded together and looked for opportunities to increase their wealth. One of these groups was headed by a Georgian who had fought as a soldier in the Seminole Wars in which the European settlers pushed the Native Americans out of Georgia, Alabama and Florida: Lewis Lawrence Griffin. General Griffin saw the value of the railroad to the farmers and planters and other citizens of the area. He and his partners devised a corporation which would extend the railroad further north into the interior of the state. General Griffin had plans for a community established at the end of his extended railroad. General Griffin would give that community his name: Griffin, Georgia.

Like General Oglethorpe before him, General Griffin laid out the lots and central business district of Griffin. On the stump of a tree near the center of his city plan, General Griffin auctioned off the lots in his dream city. A lot of the lots went to his partners from Macon. Others went to visionaries like himself.

Some of his land went to a business partner from Macon. Not too long after this, the son of this partner, who grew to be a poet, university lecturer and musician, Sydney Lanier, would be born and baptized in the First Presbyterian Church of Griffin. Around about the same time, the son of the Spalding County Clerk of Superior Court, John Henry Holliday, would also be born in Griffin and baptized in the First Presbyterian Church. Although both men would find fame in other parts of the country, both made their way back to Griffin as young men. Lanier would write his first significant piece of literature, the poem "Corn", on a farm in Sunnyside, just north of Griffin. The writing of "Corn" presaged his growth as a poet and marked his leaving of his birthplace to find fame and fortune at Johns Hopkins and Baltimore.
John Henry Holliday would go off to dental school in Philadelphia, only to ultimately return to Griffin to practice dentistry. Unfortunately, he acquired tuburculosis and went west to attempt a cure. It was later that the dentist from Griffin would find fame on the streets of Arizona.

As the railroad continued to bring wealth to Griffin and Spalding County, more settlers arrived by rail to seek their fortune in the new city. At the same time, more children born and raised in Griffin and Spalding County continued to make use of those same trains to go west and north to find their fortunes elsewhere.
Unfortunately, an economic depression which hit the country as a whole, ultimately adversely affected the community, and a lot of the luster that the community had found after its founding dimmed. A number of the new settlers left Griffin and went elsewhere in search of wealth and opportunity. Even General Griffin was forced to move his family elsewhere, away from his namesake community. The depression killed a lot of the allure of the cost of the railroad system.

Later after the country began to recover from the economic depression, the state legislature tried to establish a new east/west rail line from Augusta westward toward Alabama. The legislature considered running this line westward toward an intersection in Griffin. Unfortunately, due to the recent negative experiences of the settlers of Griffin with railroads, Griffin decided to forego the establishment of this nexus of the two lines and, instead, accepted the legislative establishment of "plank roads" throughout Spalding County. The legislature ultimately chose a spot further north for this intersection. Over time, the intersection of the north/south line and the east/west line became the metropolis of Atlanta.

The choice of Griffin to accept "plank roads" over the intersection of these railroad lines is often thrown out as an example of the backwards thinking of people from Griffin. The problem with this idea is that the establishment of plank roads in Spalding County actually promoted a lot of growth in the area for a significant time.

At the time of this choice between plank roads and railroads, most roads in Georgia outside the established cities like Savannah, Augusta and Louisville consisted of nothing more than the graded red clay, cleared of the trees and foliage. The roads were fine in dry times, but a disaster when rains and other precipitation washed them away. By laying wooden planks on the red clay roads, the roads became more stable and sturdy in all weather. With the advent of wooden supports, the local farmers and planters were able to get their cotton to the railhead that much easier. The cotton the planters cultivated became that much more productive to the planters. Wealth was increased.

One hundred and fifty years later, the choice to take the stable roads over the railroad intersection seems silly. But in that time the choice was a no-brainer. The effect of these good roads was instaneous and the wealth of Griffin and Spalding County increased immediately. At the time, the railroad choice seemed like quite a gamble.

I suppose that it may have been inevitable that a place of intersection of the existing north/south rail line with an east/west line, placed somewhere along the line, would ultimately be established. Wherever that intersection was established would probably become a great city someday. And the gift of perspective has a tendency to effect the way we look at things. Sometimes we need to look through the perspective of those who made the decision in the first place. I don't really think we can blame the citizens of Griffin for choosing good, stable roads rather than the promise of future wealth which they and their children might never see.

Nevertheless, transportation would continue to provide opportunities to the citizens of Griffin and would ultimately continue to haunt them when transportation opportunities went elsewhere. As the century progressed toward the inevitable War Between the States which would so adversely affect Griffin as it did the rest of the Southeastern United States, the combination of cheap labor (slaves), good transportation (by rail and plank roads) and a crop which seemed to thrive in the red clay of Spalding County (cotton) continued to grow the economy and wealth of the City of Griffin.

Of course, the end of the Civil War eliminated the prevalance of cheap labor and the ease with which cotton was produced in Spalding County. However, the land, people and amenities of Griffin continued to provide the opportunity for growth and wealth in the area.

It is important to note that several training facilities for Confederate troops were located in Spalding County. During the Battle of Atlanta, Griffin provided a number of hospital facilities for Confederate wounded. General Wheeler, a Confederate cavalry commander, placed his headquarters in Griffin, which allowed Griffin to avoid the destruction which a lot of communities in Georgia suffered when General Sherman waged his war against the civilians of Georgia during the March to the
Sea. Finally, Griffin provided some of the first units which fought for the Confederacy during the War Between the States. Clearly, Griffin provided personnel, support and importance to the political and economic dispute which led to the Civil War. They threw themselves into the war with stellar commitment and ardor. The end of the war brought them little but sacrifice, loss and pain.

A short history of Griffin, Georgia

I hear a lot about Griffin these days. A lot of what I hear is negative. Someone asked me why Griffin had stayed relatively the same over the years and other cities in the area, like, say Atlanta, had grown and continued to grow. Perhaps this is a rather daunting task that would require one to look at how Griffin grew over the years and then look at how other towns and cities grew at the same time. If one did this, after some time of exposition, one could potentially compare the two communities and determine the differences in which the two communities had grown and finally determine why one grew and one did not.

I am not sure it is necessary to compare communities in order to understand why Griffin is the community that it has become. I think it would be interesting to look at Griffin over the years since its birth in 1841 and see how it waxed and waned over the years. I think we will find that there have been spikes of growth and cultural developments which are remarkable. I think we will also find that there is a continous movement toward Griffin and a countervailing movement away from Griffin. I think we will also find that Griffin, while unique in certain ways, and yet unremarkable and similar to other communities in other ways.

In thinking about this, I decided that there have probably been a series of thirty or forty year periods during the history of Griffin that will differentiate from one another and will show how Griffin was different from other communities and also similar to other communities. Of course, there are certain things about Griffin's history which will set it apart from other places. Some of these are geographical elements which haven't changed over the years. Some of these elements are regional which will be similar to other communities in the Southeast United States and Central Georgia. Finally, historical elements will effect how we look at Griffin.

So here follows my short history of Griffin, Georgia:

1. Geography

Griffin, Georgia is near the center of the State of Georgia, in the southeastern part of the United States of America. Griffin is part of Spalding County, which straddles the geographical divide of the State of Georgia, meaning that bodies of water which are found in the eastern part of the county ultimately flow into the Atlantic Ocean. Bodies of water which are found in the western part of the county flow into the Gulf of Mexico. This is significant because it shows the connection that Griffin, Spalding County has to the easternmost part of our state, which, of course, was the first place of settlement by European settlers, who followed those rivers and streams northwestward toward Griffin. It also shows the connection this area has to the western-tending areas which move away from Griffin. In this way, the geography shows how people have been drawn to Griffin and then drawn away from Griffin toward the west.

Griffin lies in the piedmont area of Georgia, which is on the northern edge of Central Georgia and near the southern edge of North Georgia. The terrain is not significantly mountainous or hilly as it becomes as you travel further north in the state. On the other hand, there are fairly large expanses of relatively flat land which made this area good for farming and other agricultural pursuits. Before there was any significant settling by Europeans, the land was significantly timbered and covered with streams, rivers, ponds and lakes. The land contained sufficient water to provide for settlement and the watering of crops and livestock.

2. Pre-European History

The area around Griffin, Georgia was originally inhabited by pre-Columbian tribes which built earthen mounds used for ceremonial and residential purposes and earthen fetishes which resembled giant birds and other animals. These mounds and earth sculptures replicated other constructions found in other parts of North America and Central America. What happened to these tribes is open to conjecture. The remnants of their lives leave us with more questions than answers.

The ultimate native American tribe which predominated in and around Spalding County before and during the early development of the area around Griffin were the northern tribes of the Creek peoples. The Creek tribes stretched from the area of Spalding County eastward to the Ocmulgee River and westward into Alabama and south to the Florida line. The Cherokee tribes were immediately to the north of this area. The land in which Griffin is located was ceded by a half Creek, half Scottish native american named Chief McIntosh who lived east of Griffin in Butts County. Chief McIntosh ceded the land claimed by the Creek Indians to the State of Georgia. The land he ceded began northeast of Griffin and followed what is the northern boundary of Spalding County westward. It is significant that Cheif McIntosh was half Caucasian, had participated in early historical wars on the side of European Georgians for which he was rewarded by the State of Georgia, and then was murdered by the Creeks who objected to his sale of the Creek territory including Spalding County.

A lot more could be said about the pre-European history of Griffin, but the establishment of Griffin in 1841 began the long history for which we are most interested.

Confidence

Is it possible to grow character at a time in your life when you can barely remember last week? Character requires vision. Vision of your own character. Visual clarity of your factual situation and clarity concerning the import of what you do.

Do we really know much about our character? How do we find anything about our character? One could ask the people around him. But how clear is the vision of the people around us? What is the motivation of the people around us? How flawed is their vision?

Another problem is that our character can, and probably does change as we age. What we are willing to do or unwilling to do now is probably different than what we did when we were younger.

When I was in high school I had a lot of confidence about the different factors in my life. In football, I was the captain of the football team, most valuable player as a junior, Dekalb County defensive lineman of the week in the third week of my senior season. Even though we didn't win all of our games, I felt like we had a chance to win every game. I played without my glasses, squinting at the sidelines to get the defensive signal from Coach Sparks. I was confident enough to realize that my tone of voice could affect the level of play of the defenders of which I was the captain.

In school, I had no real problems. Even in mathematics, in which I had no real confidence, I made decent grades. Everything else came relatively easy. I made good grades without really trying.

In school politics, I lost two major elections before finally winning school wide election in my junior year. I took a chance in my final speech and beat my fist on the podium and declared my fellow students to be people who did not use their brains. I won by the highest of margins.

Now, I have to recapture that confidence. I need to emotionally feel security in all of the different facits of my life. I need to do whatever is necessary to support safety and security. I think I can grow confidence. I need help but I there are things I can do to help myself.

Consideration

I don't do very well at what I do. Am I to understand that I do not want to do what I do so it manifests itself in how I perform what I do? I think I am lazy. I feel that I am. My intuition or emotional "feeling" says that I am unsatisfied and lazy.

But I do work hard at things from time to time. In some ways I work harder than I am talented. I have wondered about this from time to time. I wonder if I am talented, but that my talent is uncultivated. Then again, sometimes I wonder if I am not talented and that I do well because I work harder. I wondered about this when I was playing football in high school and college. I wonder about it now that I am in the adult working world.

When I played football, I was pretty good for someone of my size, weight and speed. There again, I was fairly quick and fast. There again, it was mostly my emotions which drove me forward.

Now that I am a fifty year old adult,I look at what I do and see that I do a good job when I am motivated. But also, I think about the effect of my depression on my ability to even do simple things. It dissolves my concentration to do even the simple things. Like water dribbled over a block of sugar.

In some ways it is just the ordering of my life so that I am able to do things effectively.

I look back on times when I thought I was on top of the world. I remember when I was thirteen years old and we were in Fort Myers, Florida and felt that no one could beat us. We had good coaches and we were motivated. Our team was not that talented. I look back on that team, only Eddie Jackson, David Campbell and I ended up playing football in college. Perhaps only David was a star on that team. The rest of us were small and not that talented. But we a part of an organization which we felt was the best, even though that had been proven at that time. We believed that we should win and we did.

Later, when I was the captain of the Dunwoody High School football team and I won the election for school vice president, I was willing to say whatever I believed and won the election. I wonder if my ability to lead at that time was based on my abilities or on my confidence and other peoples' perceptions of my abilities.

When I was elected vice president and actually served, my tenure was unremarkable. Did I perform in the manner in which I did because I had accomplished my goal and was unmotivated to continue. Perhaps the attainment of the goal was sufficient.

Now I look at what I am doing now. I need goals to work toward other than accomplishing the necessities of getting Kate educated, working towards our retirement and establishing our household.

But I do miss certain things: friendship, competition, travel, respect. I would like to acquire those things above all. Those would make me more happy.

The things I wish I had are in my past. I need to make see them in my present and in my future, as well.

Saturday on my own

This morning I went to the office and earned $575 for a couple hour's work. I ran some errands and was planning on taking Tex to Callaway Gardens, but ended up spending most of the afternoon with Bob Bugg watching the latest Jason Bourne movie, eating a milkshake from Truitt's (the new restaurant from Truitt Cathey) and then driving around Sun City Peachtree and Heron Bay. It was a nice afternoon. Both of our wives and children were out of town and it was a good time to get together.

This evening I made rice and had chili and peaches again. I'll have to do better tomorrow. I did get to watch Stalag 17 this evening.

Saturday on my own

This morning I went to the office and earned $575 for a couple hour's work.

Wouldn't it be nice if we could do the same every day? I can't remember why I wrote this or what the Hell was going on that enabled me to earn money for a few hour's work on a Saturday, but it all goes to the cause.

The cause? Making my creditors happy.

Reality suffers

This morning I had a hearing in Federal District Court in Atlanta. As the hearing progressed, I listened to the movant's lawyer speak and got progressively more irritated with his presentation. The irritating part was the continuing implication that I was a dupe in the process. I got extremely irritated. I have been irritated with it the entire afternoon.

But my mind turned it over. I am concerned with the ending of it. I am worried about the progress of this case. I am worried about where it will go. I really need the weekend.

Trial week

Sitting on my buttocks for two hours
Waiting for the one name I recognize
To be announced from the front
My client sitting by my side
Nervously laughing at the comedy
Of the sad, slow legal drama
Or asking questions
Again and again
Answered before, answered like Cysephus
Until the matri di/prosecutor looks toward me
And calls my case
And like an expectant father
I rise to the calling
Only to face the lined, life-weary face
Of the judge, who fights his boredom
To offer me half an ear
And I've known him for so long
And I know he reads the bullshit
And probably suspects more beneath
My slippery, reptilian argument
Which bends and twists and turns away
And often slips from my tongue
To my hands like a handful of snake
And falls to the ground and slithers off
Back into the cool darkness of my brain
From whence it came
Leaving me lost and feigning confidence
Even when the words won't come
And I trudge away to face another trial
Like some antic knight in tarnished armour, beaten in the lists
My open palms held open to my client
Who mistrusts me now also
But probably did before.

Litigation week in Georgia

Well, today was the second day in litigation hell, and truly the hump day of them all. I started out in City Court in the new courtoom in the old Wachovia Buildling, nee' First Union Tower, nee' Commercial Bank and Trust Company building. That was 10:00 a.m. After sitting in the courtroom for about an hour and a half, we were told we had to come back at 2:00 o'clock p.m. So I took Kate to lunch and then returned in time to go back to City Court. At that point, the powers that be sat me down and allowed me to cool my heels in the courtroom until every case was reached except ours.

When we got to my case, they had three witnesses and the assistance of the usually friendly judge (that is, friendly to the city prosecutor and the police). I still don't think that they could make a case against my client for the alleged ordinance violation for zoning. Nevertheless, they did. The only victory I got in the thing was that I think the judge was lenient on the fines, only assessing $150 per violation.

Nevertheless, as I got toward the end of the case, the court workers were hot to tell me that Judge Gail at the Magistrate's Court had called and was expecting me very soon. I only got there about thirty minutes late. At any rate, we cranked up the case and didn't finish until 6:30. As I stood on the courthouse steps and discussed the case with my clients, Kate called me and told me I was missing my 5:30 closing.

Not knowing anything about a 5:30 closing, I hustled over to the office to find Patti conducting the closing in my absence. I quickly took over and finished up around 7:00 or so.

When you are involved in litigation you do a lot of sitting around. But the stress churns inside of you. By the time you get to the end of the day, you are worn out.

And I still have a big hearing in Federal District Court in Atlanta tomorrow morning.
By the end of tomorrow, I should be ready for some relaxation and fun on Saturday.

Braves win!

Last night I drove Kate and Carolyn Jones to the Braves game at Turner Field. We got a later start than I wanted but really made it to our seats in plenty of time. The weather was hot and humid, which I guess you should expect in Georgia on the last day of July. I found out later that the Clerk of Superior Court of Lamar County was at the game and suffered a bout of asthma from the heat.

Anyway, we got to the stadium and I bought Kate and me Chicago dogs (our favorite hot dog combo). We found our seats and sat down in the leftfield outfield seats a row back from the first row. After eating, I found a good place to buy beer in the stadium and brought Kate a Pilsner Urquell from Pilsn,Czech Republic. She was excited. Carolyn had a coke and I had a Red Stripe from Jamaica.

The game began poorly, with Houston hitting a home run to take the lead. But the Braves came back and killed the Astros 12-4. Kate's favorite part was when her favorite player, Kelly Johnson, hit two multi-run home run and two singles to go four for four and be named the MVP of the game. My favorite part was when the camera foced on Mark Texieria (I don't know if I am even close on the spelling) and he finally had to acknowledge the fact that everyone was cheering for him for just being in the dugout. A lot of people stood and applauded.

After the game I had to suffer Kate and Carolyn imitating New Yorkers as we headed down into Riverdale to buy doughnuts. We got back home around 11:30 and I didn't seem to get much sleep last night. I have been tired all day.

Kate had a great time and Carolyn said she would join us in Columbus for a minor league game before they have to go back to college. By the way, Carolyn has a nose piercing. A big one. I have told Kate that I thought that was, as my grandmother would have put it, "common." I really don't think it looks good on a fair Caucasian. Sorry.

Putting extraneous holes in your body for "grins." Strange.