Lonely suicide by a stream in North Georgia

I got to travel to Blairsville this afternoon. I really enjoy the drive to Blairsville. You start in a valley at the intersection of two roads. At the crux of the intersection is a little building which housed a cafe last year. Now the cafe is vacant and for sale. Across the street is a campground. On any given weekend, you will find a ton of motorcycles. Coming from Dahlonega, you take a left at the intersection. Almost immediately, you start climbing into the mountains. You don't quit climbing until you arrive at the Union County Courthouse.

In the interior of the courthouse are a number of photographs. Several of the photographs involve the poet Herbert Byron Reece, who was born and raised in the hollows along a stream in southern Union County. He is the American version of William Wordsworth. I was looking at the pictures this afternoon and read a poem about fiddlers. It was delightful.

After dispossessing this particular hillbilly family, I drove back down U.S. 19 toward Dahlonega. I stopped at the Logan Turnpike Mill and bought four bags of stone ground grits. The best in Georgia. Later, I drove past the homeplace of Herbert Byron Reece and tried to see what he saw.

But not too closely. He committed suicide in his loneliness. Someone who was born in such natural loveliness. Raised in a hard scrabble life, until his family died. Leaving him alone.

He tried to fly like a red tailed hawk. He taught in colleges and universities in Georgia and California. But he always returned. You look at the pictures. He has sad, sad eyes. His poems are not so sad. But his eyes are.

The little house on the side of the road is lonely beside the little stream. No one lives there. The house is surrounded by security fencing. A sign for a contracter is attached to the fence. I have never seen anyone working there or stopping to see the house.

It doesn't look much different from the picture of Reese in front of his door before he ended his life. Just the addition of the security fence, the contractor's sign and the historical marker.

I stopped one time and read the marker. I like to read markers. They tell a story. And leave you with questions. In the case of Herbert Byron Reese, there are many questions.

A good topic for foreclosure day.