Today is the date upon which Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart died. According to the entry on my calender, there are many possible causes that history has given for his death. Apparently, his doctors attributed the death to "heated military fever" which meant that they really didn't know why he died. There have been many causes attributed to his death with none given precedence over the others. I suppose we can feel comfortable in the fact that he is, in fact, dead. Not that I feel comfortable because he is dead. However, since he was born in 1756, I suppose it is expected that he would be dead. Nevertheless, his musical canon is extensive and any other pieces composed by him would be appreciated. Albeit, most such pieces would be questionable as to the identity of their composer. At least at this point.
Well, I guess we can be assured that he lived at one time, composed some music, and died. Perhaps that is all we can say about anybody. Not that everybody composes music. You can't say that about just anybody. And not everybody composed like Mozart.
A little night music, please?
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Lying in wait
As I sit here in my chair awaiting Patti's efforts to get a closing package together for me to travel to East Point, I was sitting and reading some of my blogs. I happened upon one of my blogs written while we were in St. George Island. Kate had mentioned that she drinks only the cheapest of beers when she drinks, unless someone else is buying. I would like to give Kate a little advice.
There have to be some things that you don't compromise on. I am the Baynham child who really likes the taste of beer. As such, I prefer to drink beers which have a distinctive taste. Beer is one of those things upon which I prefer not to compromise. Orange juice and peanut butter are two others.
As you know, child, I like fresh squeezed full pulp orange juice. I also like Jiff brand crunchy peanut butter. If I have orange juice or peanut butter, those are the varieties I prefer.
Of course, my taste in beer is more varied. But I ordinarily purchase beer at the high taste end of the grocery or liquor store shelf.
So I would suggest that you only buy and drink good beer. If you can't afford to buy good beer, I would suggest that you not buy beer at all.
Oddly, I am not that picky about barbecue, even though I recognize that some barbecue is better than others. Your mother says that there is no better barbecue than the barbecue that your father makes with his own two little hands. Personally, by the time I get to the end of the process, I usually could care less about barbecue. That is why it is a good thing to freeze the left overs and reheat later. That is another advantage to smoked meats.
Now ham is another matter and bad bourbon gives me a hangover. Once again, there are certain things with which we should not compromise. Kentucky ham and bacon. Tennessee pure pork sausage. Single splash bourbon from the heartland of bourbon country in the Commonwealth of Kentucky.
Keep these words in mind.
I wonder if this message to my child will go down in literary history like other great messages of sage advice to children.
Nah
Thinking outside the box
This is clearly an example of someone building a house and making a decision outside the box. However, sometimes thinking outside the box does not provide the best solution. If you look at this picture closely you will see that the builder located the driveway in such a way that the owner could enter or exit the drive in either direction by driving on either side of the pole. Of course, the normal placement of the driveway, avoiding the pole, would be a better solution. In this case, conventional wisdom would provide the better answer.
Calvin, the cat
I know that the only reason that Cindy sent this picture to me was because the cat looked like our former, dearly departed cat, Calvin. Calvin was a sweet cat with a good temperment. Calvin loved to follow us around the house, particularly when we were out in the yard gardening. If you dug a hole, Calvin wanted to help you dig. He would place his paw down into the hole to help. In addition, if I ever climbed on the roof to clean out the gutters, Calvin would usually climb up on the roof and suddenly appear alongside me. He would sit in my lap and allow me to pet him and we would watch the world go by.
When we first adopted Calvin and Maggie, they both quickly became pregnant with kittens. That was how we knew that Calvin was a 'she.' Calvin gave birth on Palm Sunday. Maggie gave birth on Easter Sunday. We had kittens coming out of our ears, about fifteen. Before we were able to adopt out the kittens, Calvin and Maggie mothered the kittens together in the greenhouse off the back of our house. One night there was a row in the greenhouse and I flipped on the light to see what was going on. As the lights came on, I was just able to see a large possum fleeing from the greenhouse, with Calvin in pursuit. I ran outside and checked in the greenhouse. Maggie was perched on top of the kittens like a mother hen. None of the kittens were injured. They were a good mothering team.
However, Calvin was definitely my favorite cat.
Personally, I think the mouse on the tree was added to the picture later. If a cat was next to a tree with a mouse perched that closely on the tree, you would soon find the mouse in the belly of the cat. I know Calvin was adept at critter-hunting and eliminating of varmints.
Reunion in Toccoa?
On foreclosure day, I was slated to return to Stephens County for the first time since I was a young lawyer, associated with a law firm in Toccoa. My association lasted only briefly (about eight months) and I left there in the Fall of 1982 to take a position as a law clerk for a judge in the Flint Circuit. This leaving was decided on a less than mutual basis, probably determined by my inability to assimiliate into the life of Toccoa, as a young single man from Metropolitan Atlanta might find difficulties under those circumstances.
Nevertheless, as I drove through North Georgia, crying the losses of hearth and home for citizens in various counties, I found myself driving northeastward from Athens, where I had attended law school, toward my old place of residence in Toccoa. As I drove, it occurred to me that I was returning to Toccoa exactly twenty five years after I left. I wondered if there might be any changes in the town when I returned. I also wondered if I might find any of the lawyers and people who I associated with when I was a young lawyer. It never really occurred to me that twenty five years might post some obstacles between me and my reunion.
The mountains through which I drove were suffering from the drought which has taken many trees throughout this year. So many trees lay bear or showed dead leaves. The colors had been muted to greys and muddy browns from the greens of Summer and the pretty colors of Autumn. The present state of the economy of the state of Georgia had also taken a lot of the hopeful prosperity formerly found in the little mountain hollows. I saw indications of the loss of jobs and opportunities in the empty structures and for sale signs along the roadside.
The first thing that I noticed as I drove up from Athens was the handiwork of the Georgia Department of Transportation. In an effort to bring prosperity and ready transportation to the mountains of North Georgia and beyond, the DOT had widened, reconfigured and slashed the roads and countryside through which I drove. Nothing seemed that familiar. It seemed to me that every road had been widened and pushed through the forests and pastureland to make it easier to get from point 'a' to point 'b.' As they reconfigured these passages through the mountains, a lot of new buildings and fast food restaurants and convenience stores sprouted up, lived their lives and then died along the new roads. Only the areas close to the intersections of the mountain roads and the interstate highways survived.
The roads from the interstate and from Cornelia and Clarksville were reset and the route seemed longer than twenty five years ago. Of course, that might have been an illusion created by the advent of time and I realized that even as I followed pickup trucks from Gwinnett County headed for new homes in the mountains and tourists from Florida on their way to Highlands and Cashiers. The roads I had once used as a young attorney to drive from Toccoa to the various towns and villages in North Georgia were rerouted to allow for easier travel from the interstate and the discount malls and the major cities noticed on their signs to other locals deemed desirable for travel from these locations. At the same time, many formerly sizeable towns were bypassed and left to rot on the vine like so much unpicked fruit. Some of these quaint little villages in North Georgia, like Baldwin and Demorest, were like this.
Unfortunately, Toccoa seemed to be one as well. US 441/Georgia 17 was once a major thoroughfare from Athens through Toccoa and on up to Clayton and Franklin, North Carolina. Now I found it rerouted to bypass Toccoa on the west, cutting a four lane path through the mountains, but ignoring the old route through town. Coming up from Cornelia, the former apple capital of North Georgia, home of the "Big Apple", I crossed over the new four lane, past a new convenience store/gas station, and headed up into the little mountain pillow protecting and preserving Toccoa.
When I drove into town, I noticed that a former Dairy Queen at which I had once bought biscuits for my breakfast was closed up and shuttered. A number of businesses on the route into town were now abandoned. When I arrived in the center of town, most of the downtown area seemed abandoned and suffering from the loss of industry and a reason for coming to live in Toccoa. There were storefronts begging for tenants; there were open areas where buildings had once stood. The county and the city had taken over old business locations to feed the hungry or otherwise serve the needy. Cars and trucks were parked in the downtown parking, but I could see no place where the owners might be working.
The old courthouse where I was sworn in as an attorney in the presence of my family and fellow lawyers, was under some type of reconstruction. You couldn't tell what they intended to use the structure for. A new government building stood at the foot of the hill from which the original courthouse towered over the town. I walked over to the government building and entered the clerk's office. No one working in the office looked familiar to me. I inquired as to the location of the spot from which foreclosure sales were read and was directed to a spot in front of the new building.
As I read the foreclosure notice, no one came near to hear what I might be offering. I had hoped that one of the attorneys who had practiced in Toccoa might show up, but no one remotely looking like an attorney showed. Several rough looking residents buying tags for their pickups and late model cars came and went without even looking at me. After reading the notice and tendering a bid on the house, I knocked the house off to some bank in California or elsewhere, and decided to walk around the courthouse square one time before I left.
Was this the same place in which I had tried cases and searched title and represented the needy? Where were the busy citizens I had briefly served back in 1982? Everything looked familiar, but tarnished and crumbling. No one familiar showed themselves as I walked a circuit around the courthouse. This had once, briefly been my home. Now, nothing like home was there.
As I drove up 441 toward a spot to turn around and head back down toward my last stop in Dawsonville and home, I thought about the sadness of my leaving back in 1982. I thought about how distressed I had been when I left Toccoa to come back home and on to Barnesville. At the time I thought that I had suffered a great loss. Now I wonder.
I considered the changes I had seen in Toccoa and the changes I have seen in Griffin over the years. Overall, I was ultimately glad I had left Toccoa and come down to Spalding County. The textile industry which had fed both towns is dying a slow death, and both cities are struggling to replace the jobs and business they have lost over the years. But all in all, I am glad now that I left Toccoa in late 1982. It was a brief respite from which I hope I learned some lessons. Perhaps I am still learning lessons.
Nevertheless, as I drove through North Georgia, crying the losses of hearth and home for citizens in various counties, I found myself driving northeastward from Athens, where I had attended law school, toward my old place of residence in Toccoa. As I drove, it occurred to me that I was returning to Toccoa exactly twenty five years after I left. I wondered if there might be any changes in the town when I returned. I also wondered if I might find any of the lawyers and people who I associated with when I was a young lawyer. It never really occurred to me that twenty five years might post some obstacles between me and my reunion.
The mountains through which I drove were suffering from the drought which has taken many trees throughout this year. So many trees lay bear or showed dead leaves. The colors had been muted to greys and muddy browns from the greens of Summer and the pretty colors of Autumn. The present state of the economy of the state of Georgia had also taken a lot of the hopeful prosperity formerly found in the little mountain hollows. I saw indications of the loss of jobs and opportunities in the empty structures and for sale signs along the roadside.
The first thing that I noticed as I drove up from Athens was the handiwork of the Georgia Department of Transportation. In an effort to bring prosperity and ready transportation to the mountains of North Georgia and beyond, the DOT had widened, reconfigured and slashed the roads and countryside through which I drove. Nothing seemed that familiar. It seemed to me that every road had been widened and pushed through the forests and pastureland to make it easier to get from point 'a' to point 'b.' As they reconfigured these passages through the mountains, a lot of new buildings and fast food restaurants and convenience stores sprouted up, lived their lives and then died along the new roads. Only the areas close to the intersections of the mountain roads and the interstate highways survived.
The roads from the interstate and from Cornelia and Clarksville were reset and the route seemed longer than twenty five years ago. Of course, that might have been an illusion created by the advent of time and I realized that even as I followed pickup trucks from Gwinnett County headed for new homes in the mountains and tourists from Florida on their way to Highlands and Cashiers. The roads I had once used as a young attorney to drive from Toccoa to the various towns and villages in North Georgia were rerouted to allow for easier travel from the interstate and the discount malls and the major cities noticed on their signs to other locals deemed desirable for travel from these locations. At the same time, many formerly sizeable towns were bypassed and left to rot on the vine like so much unpicked fruit. Some of these quaint little villages in North Georgia, like Baldwin and Demorest, were like this.
Unfortunately, Toccoa seemed to be one as well. US 441/Georgia 17 was once a major thoroughfare from Athens through Toccoa and on up to Clayton and Franklin, North Carolina. Now I found it rerouted to bypass Toccoa on the west, cutting a four lane path through the mountains, but ignoring the old route through town. Coming up from Cornelia, the former apple capital of North Georgia, home of the "Big Apple", I crossed over the new four lane, past a new convenience store/gas station, and headed up into the little mountain pillow protecting and preserving Toccoa.
When I drove into town, I noticed that a former Dairy Queen at which I had once bought biscuits for my breakfast was closed up and shuttered. A number of businesses on the route into town were now abandoned. When I arrived in the center of town, most of the downtown area seemed abandoned and suffering from the loss of industry and a reason for coming to live in Toccoa. There were storefronts begging for tenants; there were open areas where buildings had once stood. The county and the city had taken over old business locations to feed the hungry or otherwise serve the needy. Cars and trucks were parked in the downtown parking, but I could see no place where the owners might be working.
The old courthouse where I was sworn in as an attorney in the presence of my family and fellow lawyers, was under some type of reconstruction. You couldn't tell what they intended to use the structure for. A new government building stood at the foot of the hill from which the original courthouse towered over the town. I walked over to the government building and entered the clerk's office. No one working in the office looked familiar to me. I inquired as to the location of the spot from which foreclosure sales were read and was directed to a spot in front of the new building.
As I read the foreclosure notice, no one came near to hear what I might be offering. I had hoped that one of the attorneys who had practiced in Toccoa might show up, but no one remotely looking like an attorney showed. Several rough looking residents buying tags for their pickups and late model cars came and went without even looking at me. After reading the notice and tendering a bid on the house, I knocked the house off to some bank in California or elsewhere, and decided to walk around the courthouse square one time before I left.
Was this the same place in which I had tried cases and searched title and represented the needy? Where were the busy citizens I had briefly served back in 1982? Everything looked familiar, but tarnished and crumbling. No one familiar showed themselves as I walked a circuit around the courthouse. This had once, briefly been my home. Now, nothing like home was there.
As I drove up 441 toward a spot to turn around and head back down toward my last stop in Dawsonville and home, I thought about the sadness of my leaving back in 1982. I thought about how distressed I had been when I left Toccoa to come back home and on to Barnesville. At the time I thought that I had suffered a great loss. Now I wonder.
I considered the changes I had seen in Toccoa and the changes I have seen in Griffin over the years. Overall, I was ultimately glad I had left Toccoa and come down to Spalding County. The textile industry which had fed both towns is dying a slow death, and both cities are struggling to replace the jobs and business they have lost over the years. But all in all, I am glad now that I left Toccoa in late 1982. It was a brief respite from which I hope I learned some lessons. Perhaps I am still learning lessons.
Monday, December 3, 2007
First Tuesday: the lawyer's lament
Standing on the hard, grey granite steps
It is a puzzle to me
Who is the predator here.
As the winds of December
Whirl around my head
And the courthouse assembly
Grin in carnivorous anticipation,
I stand above them and announce the sales:
Someone's dream gone awry
Tossed aside, yesterday's news,
And I am here, guardian of the purse,
Reading the newspaper ads
Offering the latest deals
To the smirking wolf-grins before me
Just another guy seeking another dollar
And why do they hate me?
Why am I the one they blame?
I'm just doing my job,
Just like every one else here.
What's the difference anyway?
There are always winners and losers.
And here they are, spread out for display:
Joints of rotting beef, hanging in the late Autumn air
Who is the winner
And who is the loser?
Won't you buy?
It is a puzzle to me
Who is the predator here.
As the winds of December
Whirl around my head
And the courthouse assembly
Grin in carnivorous anticipation,
I stand above them and announce the sales:
Someone's dream gone awry
Tossed aside, yesterday's news,
And I am here, guardian of the purse,
Reading the newspaper ads
Offering the latest deals
To the smirking wolf-grins before me
Just another guy seeking another dollar
And why do they hate me?
Why am I the one they blame?
I'm just doing my job,
Just like every one else here.
What's the difference anyway?
There are always winners and losers.
And here they are, spread out for display:
Joints of rotting beef, hanging in the late Autumn air
Who is the winner
And who is the loser?
Won't you buy?
The first week of the last month of the year
The first week of December arrived today and I have been trying to get December off to a rolling start. Of course, the usual people calling in to complain and other folks wanting this or that right now have been calling me. Nevertheless, I have been pushing on and trying to try to get things in their proper orbit. Something like the guy who used to appear on the Ed Sullivan show to spin plates on sticks over his head. You get them all working, then work further to keep them up there. You know how that is.
Tomorrow will be a busy day. Tomorrow is foreclosure day, as you probably already know by now. I am scheduled to perform cryouts in Athens, Toccoa, Hiawasee, Dawsonville, Cartersville, Rome and LaFayette. Those are just the ones I will perform. I have also arranged for others to be cried out in Perry, Columbus, Barnesville, Griffin, Newnan and Carrollton. It should be a busy day. No doubt.
Preparing for my cryouts these days is becoming like a general preparing for battle on numerous fronts. This month, the law firm in Decatur sent us twenty separate foreclosure sales, all spread from Columbus to Perry and northeast to Toccoa and northwest to LaFayette. Patti and I sat down in the conference room and tried to determine which counties were feasible for one person. I usually take the ones to the far north and east, since I have more expertise in that part of the state. Based on the counties involved, it would be prudent to start in Monroe, then to Winder, Athens and Toccoa on the South Carolina line. Then I will travel westward to Gainesville and Dawsonville. If I have the time to travel, perform the cryouts and travel again, I should be able to finish in Cartersville and drive home in the afternoon. I might even be able to eat lunch somewhere. Looking at the map, I decided to send Patti to Newnan, Carrollton and then north to Rome and LaFayette. That would provide a straight shot west and then north to the Tennessee border. Lisa will do the Spalding County cryouts first, travel to Barnesville, then Perry, and finish up in Columbus on the Alabama line. With that we should be able to complete all of our tasks and get home at a reasonable hour. That is a lot of driving, talking and shivering in the cold. Just the price we pay for the small amount of money they pay.
Today has been a day of handling little matters and trying to keep the balls rolling.
Sometimes the day becomes such a struggle for no other reason than the people who call you are calling about matters which are more trouble than they are worth. For instance, I received a call from someone with the tax commissioner's office in which they had received a check from us for payment of a tax lien. They informed us that the liens were not for real property tax liens but were for personal property liens on a business fir which the tax person did not have any information. The tax person did not know whether the business was a going concern, for which taxes might be payable. The tax person did not have any information about the business. The tax person wanted to apply the check we sent to the oldest tax payments, but really didn't know whether or not the taxes were due. This is a situation in which the candor of the person calling creates a problem.
I asked the tax person whether or not she wanted to send the check back to us. "Oh no!" she said, "I just want to apply it to the correct lien."
"But if you don't know if the tax is due, why don't you send it back to me?" I queried.
"Well, we want to apply the funds to the liens. We just want to talk to the taxpayer to see if she is still in business."
"Now you are telling me that these taxes are for personal property taxes and not real property taxes, correct?"
"That's true."
"Well then it sounds like these liens were not against the property and we should get the money back to give to the taxpayer."
"Well, I don't know. We want to apply the funds to the oldest tax liens."
"But you don't know if the taxes are even due at this point."
"That's true. But we just want to apply the funds to the oldest liens."
"Well, that is fine. Why don't I call the taxpayer and have her call you?"
"That's not necessary. I just want to find out if her business is still operating."
"But if I don't contact her, how will we know if her business is still operating?"
"Well, it is our policy to apply the money to the oldest lien."
"If you apply the funds to the oldest lien, then the chances are better that the business will have closed before the latest liens went of record, right?"
"Well, that's true."
"So, why don't I get my secretary to pull our file and find her telephone number and then have her contact you?"
"That will be fine."
So, after more than a little confusion, I finally got her to agree to do what I asked her to do in the first place.
Tomorrow is another day of travel and reading on chilly courthouse steps. I anticipate that it will be quite cold tomorrow. Today is rather cold. I don't think we will get any respite overnight.
Tomorrow will be a busy day. Tomorrow is foreclosure day, as you probably already know by now. I am scheduled to perform cryouts in Athens, Toccoa, Hiawasee, Dawsonville, Cartersville, Rome and LaFayette. Those are just the ones I will perform. I have also arranged for others to be cried out in Perry, Columbus, Barnesville, Griffin, Newnan and Carrollton. It should be a busy day. No doubt.
Preparing for my cryouts these days is becoming like a general preparing for battle on numerous fronts. This month, the law firm in Decatur sent us twenty separate foreclosure sales, all spread from Columbus to Perry and northeast to Toccoa and northwest to LaFayette. Patti and I sat down in the conference room and tried to determine which counties were feasible for one person. I usually take the ones to the far north and east, since I have more expertise in that part of the state. Based on the counties involved, it would be prudent to start in Monroe, then to Winder, Athens and Toccoa on the South Carolina line. Then I will travel westward to Gainesville and Dawsonville. If I have the time to travel, perform the cryouts and travel again, I should be able to finish in Cartersville and drive home in the afternoon. I might even be able to eat lunch somewhere. Looking at the map, I decided to send Patti to Newnan, Carrollton and then north to Rome and LaFayette. That would provide a straight shot west and then north to the Tennessee border. Lisa will do the Spalding County cryouts first, travel to Barnesville, then Perry, and finish up in Columbus on the Alabama line. With that we should be able to complete all of our tasks and get home at a reasonable hour. That is a lot of driving, talking and shivering in the cold. Just the price we pay for the small amount of money they pay.
Today has been a day of handling little matters and trying to keep the balls rolling.
Sometimes the day becomes such a struggle for no other reason than the people who call you are calling about matters which are more trouble than they are worth. For instance, I received a call from someone with the tax commissioner's office in which they had received a check from us for payment of a tax lien. They informed us that the liens were not for real property tax liens but were for personal property liens on a business fir which the tax person did not have any information. The tax person did not know whether the business was a going concern, for which taxes might be payable. The tax person did not have any information about the business. The tax person wanted to apply the check we sent to the oldest tax payments, but really didn't know whether or not the taxes were due. This is a situation in which the candor of the person calling creates a problem.
I asked the tax person whether or not she wanted to send the check back to us. "Oh no!" she said, "I just want to apply it to the correct lien."
"But if you don't know if the tax is due, why don't you send it back to me?" I queried.
"Well, we want to apply the funds to the liens. We just want to talk to the taxpayer to see if she is still in business."
"Now you are telling me that these taxes are for personal property taxes and not real property taxes, correct?"
"That's true."
"Well then it sounds like these liens were not against the property and we should get the money back to give to the taxpayer."
"Well, I don't know. We want to apply the funds to the oldest tax liens."
"But you don't know if the taxes are even due at this point."
"That's true. But we just want to apply the funds to the oldest liens."
"Well, that is fine. Why don't I call the taxpayer and have her call you?"
"That's not necessary. I just want to find out if her business is still operating."
"But if I don't contact her, how will we know if her business is still operating?"
"Well, it is our policy to apply the money to the oldest lien."
"If you apply the funds to the oldest lien, then the chances are better that the business will have closed before the latest liens went of record, right?"
"Well, that's true."
"So, why don't I get my secretary to pull our file and find her telephone number and then have her contact you?"
"That will be fine."
So, after more than a little confusion, I finally got her to agree to do what I asked her to do in the first place.
Tomorrow is another day of travel and reading on chilly courthouse steps. I anticipate that it will be quite cold tomorrow. Today is rather cold. I don't think we will get any respite overnight.
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