Georgia Route 36 between Jackson and Covington was painted in tans and greys as I drove toward Monroe. Other than a few red barns along the road and an occasional wreath left over from Christmas, there was very little color on the Winter palate. Nevertheless, the scenes were quite peaceful despite the other cars on the road. By the time I got on Georgia 11 from Monroe toward Winder, I passed old farms, now cut into residential lots and commercial tenancies begging for tenants. Despite the urban sprawl of strip malls and fast food restaurants, you could still see the remnants of the agricultural past and even a few working farms along the road.
I ultimately headed up from Jefferson and the Jackson County Courthouse, once found in town along the road to Gainesville, now relocated to a former pasture out away from town, toward Commerce, to find the road which leads from Commerce to Homer, the county seat of Banks County. Banks County is one of the smallest counties in Georgia, and other than a development of outlet mall stores and the attendant gas stations and restaurants hugging the interstate, the county is one of the less developed counties in Georgia as well.
Homer is its county seat and a sign as you enter the city limits lets you know that the citizens of Homer hold the world's largest Easter Egg Hunt in April. Other than that, a rusted cotton gin, still decorated with the name of the company which ran same back in the days when the cultivation of cotton reached from the Florida border to the border with North Carolina and Tennessee. Now the large tin gin building is the repository for old rusted automobiles, parked here and there around and on top of the gin building.
When I was practicing in Toccoa, about fifteen miles to the east of Homer, I was sent by one of the lawyers to the jail in Homer to interview one of the inmates for a civil matter for which we provided insurance defense. I drove through the hills westward toward Homer and found the county jail, comprised of two cinder block buildings sharing a roof and a dogtrot between, just up a hill from the old courthouse, which consisted of, at the time, a two story red brick building, with a central hallway from the front to the back of the building, with offices on the first floor, and a double stairwell climbing the front outside wall to a second story courthouse.
I parked my car in front of the county jail and looked for a jailer or deputy sheriff to let me in to the jail to speak with our client. No one was around the right building which held the jail cells. I walked back over to the left building and found an older woman sitting in front of "The Price is Right" talking to someone on the telephone. When she looked up and noticed me she hung up the phone and asked me if she could help me.
I explained my business and she took the large ring of jail keys and led me back over to the eastern building, opening the door and calling for one of the inmates to come up and speak with me. A young teenaged boy came out of the darkness and followed me to the deputies' break room, where the sheriff's wife left us to go back to the television in the other side of the county jail.
After a few moments of discussion, my client decided he needed something from his cell, so he left me in the breakroom and walked over to the room with the sheriff's wife and came back with the keys to the jail cells. Opening the jail door, he walked into the jail cell area, leaving me to hold my hand on the outside of the cell door in case the inmates decided to rush me and escape.
But the client returned from his cell and closed the door behind him, leaving the keys on the shelf outside the cells. After we finished our interview, I asked him if he wanted to be put back into his cell. He said, "no," that he would be eating lunch soon and would just stay outside until lunch was served.
I suggested that he had it pretty good in this jail. He informed me that he got three meals a day, rather than the required two in other county jails. That he and the other inmates could leave the jail on Friday and Saturday nights to enjoy the evening, as long as they were locals and were back at night. Only one of the inmates was not a local, and she had to stay in the jail all the time.
As I pulled away from the front of the Banks County jail, I left my client waving from in front of the dogtrot of the jail.
When I was there today, the county has a new courthouse and it appears that the jail has been amended to make it more secure. The old "Andy of Mayberry" feel is gone, and I suppose that was inevitable. But when you drive through Homer, you can still see the remnants of that long time ago.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Abandoned intersection
There is an old tin gin building
Standing tall but abandoned
On the side of Highway 441,
Within the city limits of Homer.
The shadows of its rafters
Have been swept almost free of cotton lint
And the spectres of old farm wagons
Long ago replaced by rusted old chevys
And buicks and pontiacs
Towed here from the side of some road
To rust and wither and fade
Into the shadow of the dying season,
The memories of cotton crops
Receding into the twilight
At the abandoned intersection
Of these remote and recent pasts.
Standing tall but abandoned
On the side of Highway 441,
Within the city limits of Homer.
The shadows of its rafters
Have been swept almost free of cotton lint
And the spectres of old farm wagons
Long ago replaced by rusted old chevys
And buicks and pontiacs
Towed here from the side of some road
To rust and wither and fade
Into the shadow of the dying season,
The memories of cotton crops
Receding into the twilight
At the abandoned intersection
Of these remote and recent pasts.
Monday, January 4, 2010
That Jack Ruby moment
I am watching Jay Leno and he is interviewing Tim Allen and Tim Allen was talking about encountering a fan and the guy is reaching into his coat pocket and Tim Allen described this as his "Jack Ruby" moment and then he did a creditable imitation of Lee Harvey Oswald grimacing as he reacts to the gunshot wound and describing how the entire audience would be looking on in shock and awe at the moment and it occurred to me that you really had to be a certain age and orientation to feel that moment and understand what Tim Allen was getting at when he referred to the "Jack Ruby" moment. The imitation was good, but the damage, as you might say, was already done because just the reference to "Jack Ruby" opened the wound from your memory and you could see that moment when the Dallad police detective grimaced and Lee Harvey Oswald doubled over in the initial pain of the bullet going through his stomach and the dark figure of the nightclub owner, Jack Ruby, his back to the camera, brandishing the 38 revolver toward the accused, soon to be lying on a slab in the Dallas morgue.
That was, I believe, November 24, 1963, in the morning, two days after the assassination of President Kennedy in Dealy Plaza in Dallas, Texas. Some things just don't go away. The wound was picked at until it festered and never healed. Some wounds are like that.
That was, I believe, November 24, 1963, in the morning, two days after the assassination of President Kennedy in Dealy Plaza in Dallas, Texas. Some things just don't go away. The wound was picked at until it festered and never healed. Some wounds are like that.
Military and Football allegories
After receiving my marching orders for the morning from headquarters in North Decatur, I discussed the battlefield with my lieutenants and made provision for their part in the battle tomorrow. Now the various places to which we all must travel are covered, despite the fact that I had to bring in a new trooper to cover part of the theater. Nevertheless, we expect cold weather tomorrow and perhaps ice on the roads as we travel.
Cindy has already made plans for my equipment, with flannel-lined pants, sweaters, jackets, heavy shoes. My transportation is sound now and I look forward to the travels tomorrow. These days, there seems to be little that I can depend on from the standpoint of my business, other than the fact that there always seems to be more from season to season. These foreclosure sales are one of the few parts of my present business on which I can depend. That is sad, perhaps, but something that must be done.
In my office, I have a poster of an Andrew Wyeth painting depicting a farm in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. There is nothing in the picture which would clue you in to its subject, other than the barns and the pastures trailing off into the distance. However, this is a picture of a farm foreclosure. Knowing that, the somber colors and the stillness of the scene have always caught my attention and I knew I wanted a copy of the poster for my office.
The picture itself is interesting. The textures of the painting are more interesting. The grass and the tracked mud on the drive in to the scene are wonderful. One of the people in the picture, shown from the back, at a distance, is wearing a red coat. Other than that, most of the colors are browns and tans and greys.
The picture is a testament to the somberness of the task. When I drive around North Georgia on these monthly foreclosure sales, I enjoy the drive, the country through which I travel, if not the actual meaning of the task. So many a lawyer's duties require a certain amount of philosophy to take on the business without being overtaken emotionally by the gravitas of the task.
Still, I served as an offensive lineman in football long enough to realize that not every task in the game requires the glory available to a running back who scores or a receiver who catches the ball in its trajectory and carries it into the end zone or the quarterback who starts the play. So much of the game requires a lineman's careful plodding. In foreclosures, one must act as an offensive lineman, who takes on his dull task despite the lack of glory and the requirement of simply completing the task.
Of course, where is the linebacker in this game? There are few linebackers in foreclosure sales. I don't see them much. I remember seeing a lawyer in LaGrange who was representing a foreclosed party, trying to stop the foreclosure process. Perhaps he was a linebacker in this game. There are very few out there. I was a linebacker for so long. It would be nice to take on that sly, skillful predatory mantle again.
Cindy has already made plans for my equipment, with flannel-lined pants, sweaters, jackets, heavy shoes. My transportation is sound now and I look forward to the travels tomorrow. These days, there seems to be little that I can depend on from the standpoint of my business, other than the fact that there always seems to be more from season to season. These foreclosure sales are one of the few parts of my present business on which I can depend. That is sad, perhaps, but something that must be done.
In my office, I have a poster of an Andrew Wyeth painting depicting a farm in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. There is nothing in the picture which would clue you in to its subject, other than the barns and the pastures trailing off into the distance. However, this is a picture of a farm foreclosure. Knowing that, the somber colors and the stillness of the scene have always caught my attention and I knew I wanted a copy of the poster for my office.
The picture itself is interesting. The textures of the painting are more interesting. The grass and the tracked mud on the drive in to the scene are wonderful. One of the people in the picture, shown from the back, at a distance, is wearing a red coat. Other than that, most of the colors are browns and tans and greys.
The picture is a testament to the somberness of the task. When I drive around North Georgia on these monthly foreclosure sales, I enjoy the drive, the country through which I travel, if not the actual meaning of the task. So many a lawyer's duties require a certain amount of philosophy to take on the business without being overtaken emotionally by the gravitas of the task.
Still, I served as an offensive lineman in football long enough to realize that not every task in the game requires the glory available to a running back who scores or a receiver who catches the ball in its trajectory and carries it into the end zone or the quarterback who starts the play. So much of the game requires a lineman's careful plodding. In foreclosures, one must act as an offensive lineman, who takes on his dull task despite the lack of glory and the requirement of simply completing the task.
Of course, where is the linebacker in this game? There are few linebackers in foreclosure sales. I don't see them much. I remember seeing a lawyer in LaGrange who was representing a foreclosed party, trying to stop the foreclosure process. Perhaps he was a linebacker in this game. There are very few out there. I was a linebacker for so long. It would be nice to take on that sly, skillful predatory mantle again.
Temperatures in the teens and twenties
At this point we have run out of excuses. Christmas is behind us. New Year's is also in our wake. 2010 is here and we are required to carry on in to the new year. Last year, I was in the process of moving from my old office to my present digs and I was feeling rather ambitious with the possibilities of a new year. I had resolved to join a health club and not create piles of paper and keep ahead of schedule.
Now it is January 4, 2010 and there are piles and there are things which are behind schedule and the year ahead does not look that different from the ones before. Surely a mixture of the good and the bad and every thing else in between. I will be fifty four by end of year and Kate will be 24 on Saturday. We won't discuss Cindy's age; I don't think she would want that placed up for discussion.
The skies outside my office are blue, with a thin haze of clouds. If I were not clear on what day it was, I would almost think it was Spring or Summer, but I hear the heater churning away in my office and I know that the temperature is in the twenties and that there is further a chance of frozen precipitation later in the week. That would be interesting. I wonder what Tex would think about a snowfall. I have had several dogs over the years and some like snow (Molly) and some do not (Georgia). It would be fun to see how he reacts to the sight of snow and sleet.
Well, on to more important things.
Now it is January 4, 2010 and there are piles and there are things which are behind schedule and the year ahead does not look that different from the ones before. Surely a mixture of the good and the bad and every thing else in between. I will be fifty four by end of year and Kate will be 24 on Saturday. We won't discuss Cindy's age; I don't think she would want that placed up for discussion.
The skies outside my office are blue, with a thin haze of clouds. If I were not clear on what day it was, I would almost think it was Spring or Summer, but I hear the heater churning away in my office and I know that the temperature is in the twenties and that there is further a chance of frozen precipitation later in the week. That would be interesting. I wonder what Tex would think about a snowfall. I have had several dogs over the years and some like snow (Molly) and some do not (Georgia). It would be fun to see how he reacts to the sight of snow and sleet.
Well, on to more important things.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Blither, blither
The cold crispies of January are here. We should have lows in the teens for the next few days. New Years is over and it will be more difficult to convince Cindy and
Kate that there are football games on television which are worth watching. The inmates have taken over the asylum with NBA players bringing guns to lockerrooms and college football players at UT being arrested for gun possession.
If college is a place for children to take that turn into adulthood, then perhaps we need to wholesale reconsider who gets to go to college. What would happen if we just eliminated all the money which is used in our universities for athletics? I know that may seem odd from a former college football player, but really, this is getting way out of hand.
And it doesn't seem to get any better. At least Plexico Burrus only shot himself. On the other hand, I distinctly remember noticing all of the building that went on at UGA after the football team won the national championship. I know it may be a bit cynical, but it seemed that the university really got into the building program after the football team won the national championship and the basketball team made it to the final four. Of course, the economy was strong and the HOPE scholarship program was bringing more students to the public universities in Georgia, but that might just present a wash.
Well, on Thursday we get a new national champion, although we won't really know that for sure if TCU beats Boise State (the smurfs). That would leave three undefeated teams and as a pundit for ESPN said yesterday, "Exactly who is the best college football team in Texas?"
If Texas and TCU win their bowl games can we have a final game between them at Texas Stadium? Perhaps the proximity to Fort Worth would give TCU a better chance against the state university in Austin. It would be like the good old days of the forties, fifties and sixties when the schools of the Southwest Conference vied for supremacy in college football. They all had their moments. Perhaps this is the time for them to reform their league, although I do like Arkansas in the SEC. Just make a new league with only the Texas schools and all those Texans and former Texans can fight it out over who is the best in the "best" state. Let the football players in such football states as Ohio, Pennsylvania, Alabama, Georgia, Florida and California and everyone else, play for their own national championship, the "non-Texas championship."
I know some unreconstructed Texans who would probably go along with that.
Kate that there are football games on television which are worth watching. The inmates have taken over the asylum with NBA players bringing guns to lockerrooms and college football players at UT being arrested for gun possession.
If college is a place for children to take that turn into adulthood, then perhaps we need to wholesale reconsider who gets to go to college. What would happen if we just eliminated all the money which is used in our universities for athletics? I know that may seem odd from a former college football player, but really, this is getting way out of hand.
And it doesn't seem to get any better. At least Plexico Burrus only shot himself. On the other hand, I distinctly remember noticing all of the building that went on at UGA after the football team won the national championship. I know it may be a bit cynical, but it seemed that the university really got into the building program after the football team won the national championship and the basketball team made it to the final four. Of course, the economy was strong and the HOPE scholarship program was bringing more students to the public universities in Georgia, but that might just present a wash.
Well, on Thursday we get a new national champion, although we won't really know that for sure if TCU beats Boise State (the smurfs). That would leave three undefeated teams and as a pundit for ESPN said yesterday, "Exactly who is the best college football team in Texas?"
If Texas and TCU win their bowl games can we have a final game between them at Texas Stadium? Perhaps the proximity to Fort Worth would give TCU a better chance against the state university in Austin. It would be like the good old days of the forties, fifties and sixties when the schools of the Southwest Conference vied for supremacy in college football. They all had their moments. Perhaps this is the time for them to reform their league, although I do like Arkansas in the SEC. Just make a new league with only the Texas schools and all those Texans and former Texans can fight it out over who is the best in the "best" state. Let the football players in such football states as Ohio, Pennsylvania, Alabama, Georgia, Florida and California and everyone else, play for their own national championship, the "non-Texas championship."
I know some unreconstructed Texans who would probably go along with that.
Friday, January 1, 2010
The best game of the day
The best football game of the day, so far, was Northwestern and Auburn, which was won by Auburn in overtime, when Northwestern tried to score a touchdown after they lost their placekicker, who had missed three fieldgoals and an extra point. We were cheering for Northwestern, despite all of our friends with ties to Auburn, mainly because of the fact that Kate had really wanted to go to Northwestern and it has a better academic rep than Auburn. Nevertheless, I almost have a football hangover and there are still a few games tomorrow I want to see, in addition to the Falcons game on Sunday.
Football season is disintegrating down to all the teams I don't care about playing to find out who will be the champions. Basketball is in full swing, but won't matter until March, as we know. Then baseball season will begin and Spring will be here before you know it.
Football season is disintegrating down to all the teams I don't care about playing to find out who will be the champions. Basketball is in full swing, but won't matter until March, as we know. Then baseball season will begin and Spring will be here before you know it.
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