Ramblin Woman

Ramblin Woman March 3, 2011

Passing over Utah

Breakfast @ the local cafe in Pine Mountain, Georgia

Sweet Miz Lillian introduced me to Melinda, Reba & Bill.

After breakfast we ran over to the Historical Center, which Miz Lillian & company staff and run.

This is the phone the Center was using until recently. Hard to push buttons on this phone, Reba said.

What else can a prisoner do besides write on the wall? Inside the Chipley Jail — Mashine Gun.

You can’t get this on a Kindle

Anyone you know here?

Bo, the fellow among the flowers, used to life-guard with writer Stuart Woods, who grew up in nearby Manchester.

I had to leave the folks at Pine Mountain & head east for Macon, where I caught up with Rick Hutto.

Rick’s the the author of A Peculiar Tribe of People.  But first I spoke to the staff at the newspaper & visited with my sweet friend Jackie K. Cooper, who has a new book out next week  — Back to the Garden — by those great folks at Mercer Univ. Press

Meet Marc Jolley — the man who gave me my start in this business.

Good people pass through these doors everyday.

Isn’t this exactly how you imagine publishers working?

The slush pile — Thanks but no thanks.

The Bradford Pears in full bloom at Sydney Lanier’s birthplace. Lanier authored The Song of the Chattahoochee.

And this is for Bert. When a book is endorsed by the Allman Brothers Band it is only right that a gal pay her respects.

I did that by visiting the graves Duane Allman & Berry Oakley. The autograph read: From one redneck to another.

Remember girls, when you thought Greg Allman was the hottest thing going?

Browse Our Archives

Follow Us!

What Are Your Thoughts?leave a comment
  • Great pictures! Now I’m hankerin’ for some grits!

    • Karen Spears Zacharias

      And those grits? Man. Those were sooo goood.

  • The bacon looks good, the book on the gravesite is odd, and the rotary phone is funny. (I’m pretty sure there’s an app for that.)

    Gregg Allmann was married to Cher and they named their kid Elijah Blue. So he’s got that going for him……

    • Karen Spears Zacharias

      But we never hear a thing about him…

  • Love this — and love that you are so close to me! I can feel the energy. Well, maybe that’s not you. Maybe that’s my iPhone going off…..

    • Karen Spears Zacharias

      Thot that when I saw the sign to Montgomery 125 miles. So close…

  • Steve T

    It’s really quite amazing what a short journey through a few photos will conjure up. But then, so often these visual narratives are the benchmarks of our lives. And well, like any well-told story, they really aren’t ours alone. They become more than digital imprints sent across a computer screen, they become the soothsayers music enticing living story from the recesses on our being.

    It’s a long road from Washington to Georgia, shorter still from North Carolina. But it’s only a few seconds from Pine Mountain to Macon, or I suspect, from Columbus to Macon for that matter. Just long enough for the last football game to be played again, losing to Central in the closing minutes of the regional finals as Tim’s pass sells over Gary’s outstretched fingers as he slips in the Macon mud. Central out-weighed Warner Robins about 20 pounds per person. It hadn’t rained that much. We always did believe they soaked down their field before we arrived.

    Not a long journey at all, just enough to once again drive with a new bride to a mountain top just outside of Pine Mountain, where with a picnic lunch spread on the ground they looked out over the valley below and with more than a little trepidation took the first shaky step into a 35 year adventure that sometimes seemed more like the wild exuberance of a plunge off that overlook, and sometimes like a climb over the jagged rocks further up the mountain, and through it all remains this dirt that had brought them together.

    Really only a breath, to the front room of Sidney Lanier’s cottage where a family stood as a sister and new brother-in-law professed vows to one another. The pastor who stood with them had baptized the father, had baptized the son, had placed his hands on their daughter’s head and whispered, “I baptize in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost.” The pastor is gone now, but his voice continues to whisper through this family as they are forever formed by the portrait of love that he is to their lives.

    Just a moment, not more than a blink really, and once again Dickie’s guitar is soulfully crying as a freight-train rumbles through in the middle of an Okmulgee night, where in the darkness and through a teenager’s heart, the years beyond seem to be endless.

    It would seem only a few photos and yet… Georgia is forever etched on our souls. But I suspect it is more than the photo, and even more than Georgia. I suspect it is this thing called Home. Where ever that Home may be.

    • Karen Spears Zacharias

      Great stories again, Steve. Love that wedding & the picnic.

  • That breakfast looks almost identical to a smokehouse from Cracker Barrel minus the sawmill gravy. Even the plates, table and coffee mug look like CB.

  • Oh, forgot to tell you I had a rotary phone at the house until four or five years ago. When they were smaller, the kids didn’t even know how to use it! LOL!

    • There is an iPhone app that looks like a rotary phone and actually works and will dial the number when you use it to make a call.

  • Lillian

    We at Pine Mountain enjoyed your visit (although brief). So glad you had a chance to visit our Historical Center. Good luck on the rest of your tour though the South.
    Love, Lillian

    • Karen Spears Zacharias

      I could listen to your stories all night long. Oh. Wait. I did!

  • John in PDX

    Where is the A1 Sauce for the grits? I know what y’all are thinking and it starts with Y and normally has a damn in front of it.

    • Karen Spears Zacharias

      Oh, John, yuk.

  • Diane

    Do they do that these days in the south? Leave the coffee pot right on the table so you can help yourself?

    • Karen Spears Zacharias

      No, she put the coffee pot down so she could take the photo.

  • MizDiz

    Picture of the yearbook in the old Chipley Historical Center brings back memories of growing up in a lazy, laidback Southern town. I was, most likely, one of the 200+ population at that time, a baby living with my Dismuke grandparents while Mother and Daddy built our home. It was neat to grow up in a little hick town. I could throw my skates (the kind with a key), my bathing suit and tennis racket in the basket of my bike and ride around town until I found friends to play. I’d show up at my grandparents home for lunch and usually my Dad would pick up a couple of us at the Liberty Bell Pool at the end of the day!

    I went to school in the old wooden building where my parents met and fell in love in sixth grade. I actually had the same teacher in the same room when I was in sixth grade!

    One of my most favorite things: Visiting my Aunt Lillian and Uncle Huberts dairy farm. I wanted to milk the cows, feed the chickens, throw out the hay and ride the tractor. The everyday things my cousins, Meredith and Marjorie, did not find nearly so exciting as I did!

    The Beach in the summer – a place to work and a place to meet up with friends as teens. Bo was one “hot” life guard in his day!