driving north …

… back to TN from a medical appt. in Atlanta on Tuesday. A little side trip through the Georgia National Cemetery, across the wooded, red clay rolling hills of north Georgia, over seven hundred acres has been set aside for internment of US Military servicemen and women. Purchased by Atlanta real estate developer, Scott Hudgens, who was a WW II veteran, the property was donated to the Veterans Administration that provides maintenance and upkeep of the acres. Located near Canton in northwest GA, just east of I-75, on property with steep hillsides, deep ravines, densely forested, there are internments of veterans and family members five days a week. None on weekends. About five services per day, including those who have been cremated, with ashes interred or scattered in an area set aside for this purpose.

This property is actually the third in Georgia dedicated specifically for this use: formerly a hunting preserve, it was originally land that belonged to the Cherokee Nation. More recently, after the Time of Removal when the Indigenous people were forcibly removed to Oklahoma, much of the property has had timber cut and sold for logging purposes. There are also cemeteries in Marietta, and a National Historic Site at Andersonville, where POWs were imprisoned during the Civil War, as well as one on Ft. Benning proper, but not part of DOD, administered by VA. This one, on the military base that is ‘Home of the Infantry, near Columbus, GA, is rapidly filling, with another cemetery currently being used just across into Alabama, on military property at Ft. Mitchell, Alabama.

This photo, found on cell phone, was taken early in the year: Decidious trees still bare of leaves, but you can see the brightly colored lavender blooms of the spring-flowering red bud there just behind the sign as vehicles enter the gates.

book review: “The Street Lawyer”…

… by prolific legal writer John Grisham. A number of his publications have been read and reviewed here: most paperback versions: all interesting, well written, dog-eared, recycled and passed around over time. The list of his work printed inside the front cover numbers nine, with the publishing date indicating this one was printed in 1999. Seems quite feasible there could easily be a dozen more in the decades since, that have been written and enjoyed by his fan base. According to internet research: currently he has published 47 books, not all legal thrillers, but in a variety of genres.

One of the interesting traits that seem consistent with his various published works is the Grisham method of devoting himself to research before composing. All have such details that flesh out the characters, subject matter, story lines. The people and circumstances of their lives are unique to each book, but provide fascinating insights into situations and environments the reader is rarely privy to. In this case, details about the lives of beyond-wealthy attorneys who are completely out of touch with work-a-day humans. And people who depend on the mercy of soup-kitchens, shelters for sleeping in freezing weather, kindness of complete strangers for basic necessities: clothing, shoes, water.

At first glance, when found in a Little Free Library on Virginia Ave., my thought was ‘The Lincoln Lawyer” made into a movie about an attorney who used his vehicle as a mobile office.

Michael Brock is an attorney, working in a high rise office building, as an employee of Drake and Sweeney, a large high-powered firm with four hundred attorneys. Followed into work one morning, by a homeless man, Brock and others are briefly held hostage, before the situation is resolved by a SWAT team. The death of the homeless man, who apparently only wanted to be seen and heard, rather than feeling as if his needs were ignored and he was invisible, causes Brock to seek out a man, Mordecai, who is a ‘street lawyer’. Serving the needs of this segment of the population, Brock is compelled to quit his well-paying job, recruited to become part of the team of the attorneys who focus on the basic survival needs of these people who fall through the cracks of society: with no permanent address, little income, lack of the things most consider necessities like food, clothing, shelter, warm coats, shoes.

The research involved in telling the compelling story was fascinating: providing many small details one would not consider when thinking of the culture and environment this group of people accepts as a way of life. From standing in lines in soup kitchens for hot meal, to finding shoes in cold weather, it is difficult to imagine some of the challenges that complicate the lives of the underserved. Sleeping in public places – city park benches, doorways of commcecain cities large and small, the population often becomes invisible. Often rounded up en masse to be literally ‘vanished’, loaded onto buses to make the problem disappear, those who are struggling in so many ways often seem to have no ‘voice’, feel ignored, unseen and without recourse when politicians are making promises they cannot keep.

Interesting and surprise ending. Clearly a lesson in compassion as a description of what life is like on the streets. Although the lead character had the resources and where-with-all to avoid some of what happened, the hardships that befall someone with little funding, struggling with daily necessities is painfully apparent in then narrative.

book review: “Afterlife”…

… by prolific author Julia Alvarez. She has best sellers published, including the noted ‘In the Time of the Butterflies’, and ‘How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accent’. Born in New York City, her family moved to the Dominican Republic when she was an infant. Forced to leave for the family safety, they returned to the US when Alvarez was ten years old. She became an educator, as well as a children’s books, poems and novelist, currently an artist in residence at Middlebury College.

It could be a depressing, distressing story: of illegal immigrants, working for a man who is trying to keep his head above water on a small dairy farm in Vermont. It could be a disheartening tale of a young illegal immigrant woman/girl pregnant who has no one to help her as the due date nears, far from home, family, a support system that will see her through labor and delivery. It could be a tale of grief as a widow learns to live with loss of a devoted husband. It might be a story of the loss of a beloved sister who cannot deal with pressure of trying to stabilize mental health, and resorts to an overdose of pills unknowingly collected from her siblings.

Or none of these: a story about a family doing their best to cope with the curve balls life throws daily as they are challenged with finding balance in their lives when the unexpected has to be confronted.

colorful blooms …

… in-mid October when one might expect flowering plants to start looking so tattered and tired there is little to appeal as pollinators search for one last meal. In the bright sunshine, as the growing season slowly comes to a close, the bees and butterflies still hard at work, harvesting the available resources at their disposal. The blooms here were deliberately planted by commercial landscapers to beautify the small circle in the middle of the driveway of Clairmont Lake residence complex. Located in front of the main entrance of the building, the seasonal blooms, though varied, are consistently colorful year round.

The pink flower is a begonia, the little bee has so much pollen collected on it’s legs it can barely fly.

That magenta colored bloom is called ‘gomphrena’. Also known as globe amaranth it has a variety of healing properties, uses from teas to tinctures, a plant that has been around for a long time, with a number of ways it has been applied for healing various injuries to bodies. That bee, with the little yellow pollen sacks on it’s legs, appeared to be almost drunk from collecting, possibly not even capable off flying well enough to get back to home to share the wealth.

Small circular planter with a raised concrete curb. There is always something seasonal blooming, eye-catching as vehicles come up the asphalt driveway, past the small water feature towards the front entrance of the building.

In the background of the photo above: an assortment of other fall and summer blooming plants installed by the commercial landscape team. Including tall stems of the Mexican petunia: a good choice for a prolific bloomer and easy to grow. With a purple bloom and plenty of appeal to pollinators late in the growing season, the stalks are easy to root and hold over for the following season

book review: “Anything for Billy”…

…by prolific western genre writer Larry McMurtry. The book was found in a Little Free Library when making a donation on Virginia Ave. in the neighborhood. This particular tome, at nearly four hundred pages, was first published by Simon and Schuster in 1988. Other publications listed inside the front cover number fourteen, indicating he was well established as a writer, with more than one of those titles appearing to have been sold to be made into screenplays and developed as motion pictures.

Billy – refers to Billy the Kid (William H. Boney) a young firebrand who enjoyed a reputation as a ruthless killer. A young lad who seemed to be completely without morals, scruples, and no compunction for shooting complete strangers in cold blood. The story is told from the view-point of a man who is a writer of the paperback books popular at the time, referred to as ‘dime novels. Most of the tale takes place in Texas, border towns, Mexico, barren land that will barely support livestock, to say nothing of provide enough food for farming and feeding humans. Young Billy is truly a psychopath without the slightest sense of regret after back-shooting a victim, or perforating the random passer-by on a whim, explaining how he comes to a bad end: killed by a former lover.

Peopled with cowboys, outlaws, ranchers, Businessmen, young families having made their way to the west looking for a fresh start, struggling to establish homesteads, small farming operations. Bankers, itinerants, tradesmen, blacksmiths, druggists, printers, people bringing skills from the East, looking for opportunities to advance.

Then there were the young men who choose to ride daily as cowboys. Living in bunk houses, employed by the cattle barons who claimed thousands of acres, hundreds of bovines. Men who spent their days astride horses, unwilling to accept the daily drudgery of building fences to help control livestock, preferring to spend their income in saloons: card playing, drinking themselves into oblivion, fighting, anything rather than actual manual labor.

I did not enjoy this book. Had a hard time finishing. Actually put it down several times before doing that thing where I will say: let me give it one last try, and start in the middle hoping it will improve enough for me to want to read to the end. Which I did, explaining how I know what happens. It was interesting, the author a talented writer. Several of his published works have been made into movies, screen plays, but this one has not. Viewers might recall a series some years ago “Lonesome Dove”, with Tommy Lee Jones and Robert Duvall as cattle drovers, adapted from one of the books, a classic western story.

birthday girl …

… on October 9. The photo is not recent, but taken some years ago when she was employed by another non-profit organization. Taking full credit for the highly-amusing, completely hare-brained plan to pop up out of a big box as a surprise, it is uncertain how much she was actually ‘surprised’ by the whole ridiculous event. Her sister, living in Atlanta agreed to the scheme, as we historically will gather for lunch and laughs on a special day.

Driving from middle Georgia to Chattanooga for the day, with the large appliance box,wrapped in birthday paper folded flat in the back of the car. We went into her workplace, gained the assistance of her co-workers who were readily compliant with our silly scheme. Had some help closing the top flaps of the box, before the Birthday Girl was called from her office, to come and look at the delivery.

Her family popped out of the large box, with party hats and those silly noise makers you put in your mouth and blow. Hard to say if she was truly surprised, but all in good fun, right? We amuse ourselves pretty well…

book review: “Angels Burning”…

…by Tawni O’ Dell. The book is the second one read by this author. A brief note indicated the subject/plot would have to do with Pennsylvania coal mining, as a general topic. Author of at least six books, one of which was an “oprah’ book of the month selection, which speaks highly of the author and surely made a mint for the publisher. Odell spent years writing in an effort to get a book in print:reportedly accumulating over three hundred rejection slips before finally finding a publisher for the novel ‘Coal Run”. Currently living in Western PA, with her family, she continues to write, after years of living in Chicago and a degree in Journalism from Indiana University.

The lead character, Dove Carnahan, is the chief of police in this small western Pennsylyvania town. Once a thriving coal mining community, there is a fire constantly burning underground: the town has been condemned, many citizens moved away, as the coal in seams far below the surface continue to smoulder. Smoke, steam, foul-egg aroma constantly arise from the hollows and hills, cracks in the earth emit the evidence of the fire that devastated the area, causing much private property to be taken, for the safety of the citizens under that law of eminent domain.

Dove has been a state trooper, working now the head of law enforcement, with a number of men on her force. Over years, she has earned their grudging respect.Having grown up in the community, along with her sister Neely, and a brother Champ, she is recognized, as are her siblings: illegitimate, with a mother who frequently latches onto ill-chosen men. Neely lives nearby, trains guard dogs for a living, and remains close with her sister. The brother vanished years ago.only to recently resurface with a nine-year old son, Mason.

A cold, disinterested mother, always chasing another man, caused the siblings to be dependent on their grandmother,who currently resides nearby in assisted living, Along with other townspeople who seem to know everyone’s personal history: flagrant pedophilia, unhealthy sibling relationships, porn. addictions, substance abuse, unresolved PTSD from war experiences, children having children through forced relationships by older relatives. Those people who seemingly have no regard others, no interest in anyone other than allegiance to family whether by blood or marriage.

Story opens with a report to law enforcement of a body, stuck in one of those crevasses, set on fire. Chief Carnahan volunteers as her male workers step aside, to venture into the smoking blistering area to rescue what turns out to be the remains of teenager: head bashed in, set afire. She is capable, qualified, up to the task of she faces of resolving who, what, how this young woman was brutally murdered. Also finding herself and her sister becoming mothers when her brother vanishes and leaves young Mason in their care.

narrow little …

… sign, attached to a utility pole. Not so obvious as most seen when traveling about town, usually posted at intersections with traffic signals where drivers of vehicles would often pause to wait for the lights to cycle. But noticeable none the less, though not that same shape/design as many that appear to be the result of paid advertising. With materials following political campaign that are the little ‘vote for me’ plastic materials seen the proper distance from voting precincts.

Basically the plan is to continue to observe ‘the golden rule’. Just being a decent human being. Take the time to be considerate and courteous to all those people out there who you hope will be the same to you? Although it seems to become more scarce with each generation, common courtesy still applies.

Think before you open your mouth to have something demeaning, belittling, or inappropriate comes out of your mouth in conversation. Hesitate prior to producing that hand signal when someone cuts you off without notice in traffic. Use your manners: do not be that person who seems to be in such a hurry you persist in cutting the line at the que where others are patiently standing,waiting to be served. Those things your grandmother taught you, your mom tried to pound into your head (or beat into your backside) about being a little less self-centered, remember your manners, and the old ‘if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything’ quote you heard a thousand times… it still applies!

too much …

Dollar Tree storefront with entrance, shopping carts, and $1.25 signs
A bright Dollar Tree storefront welcomes shoppers with visible $1.25 pricing signs.

… time in the wee hours, not sleeping, trying to keep the space dark and conducive to rest. But there is that little glowing electronic evil device, tempting at 3: 29 or 4: 49 or 6: 18, with mildly amusing solutions to clutter-resolutions, or thrifty shopping. Ridiculous things people find to bring home from the Dollar Tree, crafts to glue together, devoting too much time and effort to create some astoundingly ugly home decor that turns into a dust collector, spray painted and filled with silk flowers.

Eventually showing up on the shelves of the shop where people go and find these remarkably awful pieces of imported plastic assembled with a hot glue gun: metal or plastic baskets with handles trimmed off, plates added, the occasional section of a pool noodle, then spray painted gold or black. Admittedly, occasionally something clever in the way of seasonal items that might cause the passers-by to stop,notice and think: Oh! That is really sort of creative. But leave it to gather dust instead of paying for assembled craft only to recycle it into the give-way bin for the next season. When the components might well have been left in the cargo container that fell off on the way across the Pacific and vanished in the waves.

The Dollar Tree, with the actual sidewalk, lined with racks of pool noodles, shopping carts of seasonal mark=downs, bunches of colorful silk blooms. People posting their remarkabley lame ideas for combining plastic plates, baskets, copious quantities of glue that might assemble those trashcans, containers, candle holders long enough to apply a coat of spray paint and slap on wooden beads or craft sticks. All on Youtube for your perusal: the epitome of tacky.