An Afternoon Walk in the Past

It has been said of me that I should have been an historian or archeologist, because my thoughts and focus are so often in the past. I usually reply that the future has not yet happened, and that the present becomes the past almost instantly, so for practical purposes the past is all that there is. But I know what they mean and can't argue the point. I definitely do have an affinity for the past. An example is a walk in the neighborhood yesterday afternoon.

Fairview is a large, modest piece of country dotted with modest homes owned by working class people. You won't find any mansions here, and are more likely to see houses that are in need of attention. The area was once known as the Peach Orchard. Some still refer to it as that. I don't know why. Anyway, while we're walking I try to imagine what the land looked like when the Cherrokee were the sole residents. I know that it is completely different, but the geography; the hills and ravines are the same as they were in the early 1800s so I have to content myself with that. 

It was sometime around 1838 that President Andrew Jackson ordered the forced removal of the entire Cherrokee nation to a reservation in Oklahoma. That opened the gates for the settlers to come pouring in. To my knowledge one of the first was Xanders McFarland, who quickly became one of the largest landowners in the area, including the land my house is on. I've been trying off and on to trace the owners of my property from McFarland to me with no success. 

Our walk took us past a car graveyard. For some unknown reason this Chevy Sport Blazer has always intrigued me. 

I can't look at it without seeing it sitting in the Morristown, Tennessee dealer showroom in 1987, with mom and dad and maybe a couple of kids looking at it. Dad is trying his best to look nonchalant in front of his family and the salesman, but inside he wants to drive this vehicle so badly that he is starting to sweat. Later, after the papers are signed I can see the Blazer tooling down the street; a smug look on dad’s face and the kids peering out the back side windows. Who knows where that car has been, who has driven it, how many owners it has had, what adventures it experienced, and how it came to be in this graveyard in Fairview, Georgia? The answer to the last part of this question seems evident - the front end on the driver side is completely demolished. Wherever it happened, it was a violent ending. There are other cars in the graveyard, some so deeply buried in jungle-like brush and undergrowth that it is impossible to get to them. And each has a story to tell.

Not too far away is what remains of what appeared to be a fine house. All that remains now is the front facade. The roof and all the walls are laying crumpled on the ground. The brickwork leading to the house talks to me. I can see quests ascending the concrete steps and following a path that today leads to nowhere. There is no way of knowing when this house was built. My guess would be anywhere from the early to mid-1900s.

There are more reminders of the past; more pictures to be taken. The final photo yesterday was of the return to our house. The sun was setting, the temperature was mild, and as usual the only sounds were from birds. Fortunately history doesn’t stop with our return home. At approximately 3:00 PM on September 20, 1863 a federal army defeated at the Battle of Chickamauga was hastily retreating through the McFarland Gap on its way to Rossville and then to Chattanooga. Our home is about 500 yards from the gap, and no doubt many Union soldiers traveled over our land to reach the gap. There to see them hurry by was a 161-year-old water oak (towering over the garage). The tree is now estimated to be 240 years old, which takes us back to 1784. Perhaps a Cherokee brave out hunting watched a squirrel bury the acorn that would become the massive tree that exists on our land today.    

When I am sitting in a chair 20 feet from that oak, watching burgers cooking on the wood grill, I think about that Chevy Blazer, the remains of the old house, the retreating soldiers, and what the land must have looked like to that oak as a young sapling. If time travel was a real thing....

Somewhat Disappointing

 In a couple of days Phase 1 of the election process will be over. Phase 1 is the part where potential voters are bombarded with politics. It is inescapable. Between the time when I am starting this post and then finishing it I will probably receive 5 - 6 or more emails telling me how angelic one candidate is and how demonic the other is. Television programs and the internet present themselves as news programs but they really are biased electioneering. I particularly enjoy the trite phrases, including the one that says how the other candidate is a serious threat to our country and democracy. 

Various polls have been showing for some time that the election is virtually even at this point. Which I find interesting. The latest stats that I have found say that there are 186.5 million voters registered in this country. If the polls prove to be true, that means that each candidate will receive 93.25 million votes. Think about that. Each side fervently believes that they are right and the other side is crazy (crazy is a word that's been tossed around a lot in this election). How is it possible that 93.25 million people see the truth, while the other 93.25 million are crazy? It would probably take a conference of 100 socialists and psychologists 10 years to answer that question. And 93.25 million people would not accept the group's conclusion. 

Anyway, next Wednesday Phase 2 of the process will begin. That will involve hundreds of accusations about voting fraud being tossed about. Investigations will be held; suits will be filed, and best of all endless conspiracy theorists will entertain us into the unforeseeable future. Some will even claim to have proof. I'll be 84 next month, and I am mildly hopeful that we will settle on who was elected president sometime before my 85th birthday. 

I voted early last week. When I handed in my ballet I was given a sticker that says, "I'm a Georgia Voter - I secured my vote." I wonder what that means? How did I secure my vote? If Trump looses he won't believe my vote was "secured". And I do hope that he looses. Now, living here in the south smack in the middle of a cultural far-right mindset, voting against Trump makes me one of the "crazies." I don't go around publicizing that I'm anti-Trump, and I don't bring up the subject in conversation, but I also will not back down if the topic does arise.  

When I left the voting both last week  I had a sort of helpless feeling. I would like to be able to do more to defeat Trump, but there isn't anything else. I did have one thought though that kind of perked me up. I thought of the most obnoxious MAGA guy that I know, and imagined telling him that I had just neutralized his vote - made his vote meaningless. That probably should not be a source of pleasure for me but that's the way it is these days, and that is somewhat disappointing.

The Last WOW!

 Yesterday Maribel and I and some friends ate lunch at the Local Goat restaurant in the city of Ooltewah, TN. It is a fairly new restaurant in a rapid growth area. The exterior appearance is tastefully modern as is the interior. The food and drink menus had a good selection. The ambience was so-so, the service and food quality was good. What was most pleasing, most enjoyable was the lengthy discussion with our friends. That is almost always the case. It doesn't matter where we are, it is being with our friends and the conversation that leaves us with that good feeling and memories afterward. 

This morning Maribel and I were critiquing the Local Goat restaurant and concluded, as we usually do, that it was okay but no wow. That led to us to trying to recall the last time we were wowed by a restaurant. Neither of us had an answer. We decided that if you've seen one restaurant, you've seen them all. What got interesting is that we began applying that same 'seen one seen them all' concept beyond restaurants. Yesterday afternoon we went to a Labor Day fair. Same thing...if you've seen one town fair you've seen them all. And our list kept growing to include: antebellum mansions, Civil War battlefields, antique shops, mountains, rivers, clothing shops, grocery stores, gift shops, and as much as we enjoy visiting and walking the main street of small towns, there isn't much difference between them. We know pretty much what we're going to see before we get there.

We then asked each other, when was the last time you experienced a wow feeling from any source? Maribel had to go all the way back to December, 2013 when she achieved her goal of many years...seeing Machu Picchu, with her son Brian and me. There is no doubt that Machu Picchu is a magical place. Even though we had crappy weather on the day of our visit, taking photos with the iconic background was a thrill for all of us.

My last wow moment occurred in Nashville in September, 2018. Some friends were showing us the sights. At one stop after getting out of the car, there in front of me was a full scale replica of the Greek Parthenon. Given my life-long penchant for history, that by itself was enough to get me excited. 

What I saw when I stepped inside was a powerful WOW! experience. There stood a 42' statue of Athena, gilded in shining gold. The statue in her hand is 6' tall. I walked around and around that statue, snapping I don't know how many photos. I was spellbound. The size, the detail and sheer beauty were awesome. Had I been by myself I probably would have spent the rest of the day gawking at my surroundings.

Seeing Athena happened 6 years ago yesterday. Machu Picchu was 13 years ago. That's a long time since our last wows. I do hope that they won't be the last ones. Maribel has been suggesting for some time that we visit Europe. It could be that in Italy, France or Germany there are several WOWs! waiting for us. I hope so.

 

A Riddle Without an Answer

 Last night Bloomberg's Opinion editor Tim O'Brien wrote on X...

"Trump’s taken control of the momentum of this debate — despite lying and living in an alternate reality — and Biden simply comes across as a somewhat dazed punching bag," 

That pretty much sums up the situation.

What does a thinking, reasoning voter do in November? The choice is between a lying, delusional megalomaniac, and a man who is not competent to hold any decision making position be it in politics or the private sector. 

Last night was Biden's swan song. There is zero chance of his recovery. Among the democrats there is talk of finding a replacement candidate. Who might that be? No reasonable individual is going to offer themselves up as cannon fodder. Though I see no possibility that they could work, there are only two options that the democrats could try. One would be to run with Taylor Swift...if she would accept the role of candidate. Her name is a household word, and her cult followers are probably just as fanatic and numerous as the MAGA cult. She couldn't be more incompetent than Biden, nor as divisive/destructive as Trump.

The other option would be to counter Trump's spewing of verbal diarrhea last night point by point with facts, a process that has already been started. Proof of his lies may move the undecided voters away from him, and who knows...may even penetrate the mind fog of some Trumpers. But to what end? Not voting for Trump leads us back to Biden. The choices are heart attack or cancer. I don't see an answer to this riddle. 

As for me, comes November I'll either be siting this one out, or voting for Biden with the hope that should he win he won't be in office long and that kamala Harris won't be as bad as I have imagined.

A Hidden Gem

It was mid-morning last Thursday when we backed the car out of the garage and, as we often do, took off for parts unknown. Driving in the mountains and forested countryside of northwest Georgia on the winding roads is a peaceful and relaxing experience. And you don't need to have a destination in mind. There is always something just around the next bend...a festival, flea market, junk shop or maybe just an old abandoned building that beckons to be looked at and to be appreciated for the images it conjures up about its glory days. The building has done it's job if it leaves the viewer with the age-old thought, "if only it could talk."

We had been on the road for a couple of hours when Maribel said she was getting hungry. We were a few miles from Summerville and were talking about which restaurant we should eat at when an old building caught our eyes. Some old buildings have character; some do not. I guess that it's up to the viewer to determine which category a building belongs in. We pulled over and got out of the car to take a photo and look around a bit.

We felt that this building has character, and its structure had us guessing about its age and what its original purpose was. The sign above the doors intrigued us; The Willow Tree Grill. It was too new...it didn't fit with the story the building was telling us. We peered through the windows, expecting to see loads of trash but were literally stunned by the sight that greeted our eyes. Inside there were tables and chairs and a bar, And people were sitting at the tables and bar. And there was a waitress carrying plates of food. This is a working restaurant! The parking area is not visible from the front, being located behind and some distance from the building, leading us to believe that the building was abandoned. 

The entrance is through a narrow door on the left side of the building. Upon entering we felt as if we were stepping back in time. I would not have been surprised to see a couple of cowboys and an Indian belly up to the bar and order whiskey. There was no way we were going to walk away without spending some time looking around and eating at this restaurant. 

The menu contained the typical southern family restaurant offerings. Maribel had a chicken salad plate which she enjoyed but was disappointed that the chicken was ground up rather than served in slices. I ordered fried breaded shrimp with onion rings and a house salad as the two sides. Everything was done to perfection, even the one-inch thick toast was delicious. The portions were generous, the prices reasonable and the service was excellent.

The Willow Tree Grill is a 50 minute drive from our home. We will be back. When we do return, I wonder if we will have the same feelings. It may be that having experienced the initial surprise and uniqueness, a large part of the attraction will be gone. It's happened before, but somehow I don't think so. I believe that The Willow Tree Grill truly is a hidden gem.  

Just Another Political Post

One thing that I've observed is that people are people. Customs and cultures may differ a bit, but what is consistent no matter where you are is complaining about politicians and weather. I remember an election in Peru years ago where the standard joke about choosing between the presidential candidates was like a choice between AIDS and cancer. Six months ago when it became apparent that the coming November election would feature Biden and Trump I told some friends that it would be like choosing between Bud Abbot and Lou Costello. At the time I thought that my comment was humorous. I don't see it that way anymore. I truly believe that Abbot or Costello would have been a better president than Biden or Trump. 

Joe Biden has lots of political experience. With the Democratic Party agenda. There's no need for me to enumerate on what that agenda is. My biggest complaints about Biden are his mishandling of the border problem, which is now much more that just a border issue as it is affecting the entire country economically and culturally. I also disagree with the position the US and some allies have taken on Ukraine. The endless dollars and equipment being poured into Ukraine isn't going to change the inevitable outcome of that war. Ukraine can't defeat Russia. It will either be completely overrun or will have to give up territory to survive. 

My viewpoint on the war is considered extreme. Russia has been a pain in the world's butt for over a century. That condition is not going to end. Putin is determined to see the reresection of the USSR. What I would liked to have happened is that on the day that Russian troops crossed into Ukraine, the United States and any NATO allies in a position to join us would have hit the Russian troops with everything we have excepting nuclear weapons. I believe Putin would have backed off, and in case he didn't we hit him in his own territory. Sure, it would have been risky but we're going to have to fight Russia someday so why not do it when they invaded another country? 

Realistically, the chances of our NATO allies fighting along side of the USA is a pipe dream. NATO, like the United Nations is a paper tiger. All that either organization is good for is considering resolutions or sanctions, neither of which have enforcement mechanisms. NATO has maybe four member countries who might join us in confronting Russia. The other countries are members only for protection from the US if they are attacked. Look at the following information.

The bar graph says it all. The US and Turkey are NATO's military force. And if it came to combat with Russia, Turkey would sit on the sidelines, leaving the US to do the fighting. On the other side, Russia, China, North Korea, Iran and Belarus would be analogous to the "Axis powers" of WW11. Not looking good in my opinion. Especially if Biden or Trump are at the helm. 

I don't have this conversation with many people, especially when I express my view on Trump. Doing that in the past has caused me to lose some friends, which I regret. When I leave the house these days I wear my 'Barry Goldwater in 64' campaign button. I think that it is a more subtle way of saying that I don't approve of either candidate.  

Some weeks ago I found myself fantasizing. In my fantasy I magically appeared on television worldwide, interrupting the reality and cooking and game shows that contribute so much to society's advancement. My appearance was in the guise of Abraham Lincoln. I told the viewers (my words were translated to every known language) that I was disappointed with humanity, and was going to take some unilateral action myself. First, I imprisoned Putin and his colleagues in a newly constructed prison in the Sahara desert. Then I removed all Russian military from Ukraine, and announced that Russia would pay  for the cost of rebuilding Ukraine. Next I removed all military equipment from Russia, China, North Korea and Iran. Not even a slingshot would remain. Those actions were just for starters. We have other problems.

The reason we have illegal drugs in this country is not the suppliers. It's the users. I couldn't  think of a way to stop the users, so what I did was have the skin and clothing of anyone manufacturing, distributing or selling illegal drugs turn a bright red. Hopefully there will be enough non-red people to jail and shame the reds. Next I tackled the internet hackers, scammers and trolls. Their skin I turned to bright green. The skin of corrupt government employees, politicians, cops and business people I gifted with bright yellow. I probably would have gone farther but Maribel called me to lunch. The whole point is that there are a lot of bad people on this planet, and by identifying them it might change their behavior. It may be that the reds, greens and yellows would outnumber the normal skins. That wouldn't surprise me. If that is the case, I would hit the reset everything button.

Oh...I almost forgot the border problem. This is how I see it. Anyone who is in this country (or any country)  illegally would immediately disappear and reappear in their own country. Makes no difference if they've been here twenty years and raised a family here. They know they are illegal and must face the consequences.  

As for unfinished business, I still don't know what to do about Trump and the far right folks. In my view they are the source of turmoil in this country. Given their attitudes, they would regard a skin color change as a badge of courage. 

Seeing the Real Peru

Sometimes in conversations the subject of foreign travel comes up. If I mention that I lived in Peru for nine years, the usual response is something like, "I've never been there but would like to see it." Occasionally someone will say that they have visited Peru, and add that Peru is a beautiful country. When I ask them where they visited, the typical reply is Lima, Machu Picchu, Cusco and Arequipa. I ignore the urge to tell them that they haven't seen Peru; that the locals who descend on them, especially the women dressed in native costumes and holding those cute little lambs, are not representative of 90% of Peru. What they and the hundreds of artisan kiosks represent are "un pueblo para turistas." And that's okay. Like everyone else in this world they are just trying to make a few bucks.

In my previous post I mentioned that the rock I was writing about came from the Chinchipe River near the village of Zapotal. Zapotal and hundreds of small villages like it located in northern Peru's costal desert and mountains are the real Peru. I seriously doubt if a tourist, or even a missionary has ever been to Zapotal. It is not an adventure for the faint-hearted.

The journey begins at Chiclayo, the normal departure point. A bus is the usual transportation, taking six hours on winding roads in the Andes Mountains to reach the city of Jaen (pronounced hi-een). In Jaen there are men with cars who make their living by taking people to outlying villages. This part of the trip is an adventure. 

The Chinchipe River must be crossed. The problem is that there are no bridges, so sometime in the past some ingenious people devised a way to cross the river. By using a series of cables attached to each other and ultimately to winches on shore, people, cars and even trucks are barged across the river.  

There are other, smaller rivers to cross. This is done by simply driving through them, but first stopping to cover the car's engine to the degree possible, because the river water  reaches about one-third of the way up the car doors.

After what seems like an eternity the village of Zapotal appears. The population of maybe 300 people are farmers. Their produce is transported to Jaen via the same route described above.

The Chinchipe River, which is milky colored with a fairly swift current is a focal point of the village. The villagers wash laundry and bathe in it, get their cooking water from it, and use it to cool off during the heat of the day.

You won't find gaily dressed women holding lambs, or kiosks selling everything under the sun, or tourist restaurants and night-life lounges. These are people who work hard from sun up to sun down just to get by. They are mostly content with their lives.

If you've been to Zapotal or a village like it, you've seen the real Peru.