home, home in the rain

one of the sites near Americus and Plains, Georgia, is the tragic Andersonville Civil War Prison site.  we, actually, ended up heading home by way of the nearby highway...but we didn't know we would, so Mike made a separate journey out to the memorials while the rest of us remained semi-ignorant and fully-cozy at the hotel.  (we all did drive through it - in the rain - on our way home, it turned out.)

so, the brief story of Andersonville, as related to me by my very learned husband, is that it was a confederate prison - that is, it was a prison for captured union soldiers.  and there were way, way, way too many of them.  more than the land could sustain.  way, way, way more than there was food.  or medicine.  or doctors.  or, really, anything.  they just kept arriving.  in the depths of it, 150 union soldiers died there each day.

(i suppose towards the end, but i am not sure), a spring suddenly bubbled up in the valley of the prison.  right here, as you can see.  and it was a miracle.  fresh water, when the soldiers had only had a putrid, contaminated creek that ran through the valley of the prison.  after the war, union soldiers who had survived the prison (and the war) returned to the site and built this stone spring house as a memorial.

 a video of the spring & up to the fort

and here are the graves

(if this were a 360 shot,

you would see that the graves

completely surround you

on all sides)

weeping woman

initially, this last post was about our ride home and a cute game the boys played to entertain themselves.  and, then, i remembered i still had some photos to include of Andersonville.  and i wondered how i could, possibly, connect the two seemingly disparate events.  but it quickly became quite clear.

i am the mother of boys.  boys who could, had they lived in a different time, easily - most certainly - been one of those young men without food, without medicine, without water...dying in a prison, dying in a field, dying in any other horrific way.  i am the mother of boys.  who are loving, sweet, funny, caring, innocent.  who are not made to withstand violence, aggression, anger, and war simply because of their gender.  they are destroyed by these things just as any of us are.

Joseph & a hot, boiled peanut...an acquired taste, indeed

so, the story on this game.

we went out to eat one evening

in Plains

and, while we were waiting for our food,

Samuel suggested we play a game

of going around the table to see

if we could name all of the presidents.

(in order, preferably...

however, he's the only one who can do that).

all four of us managed to stay in the game

until the end,

although Samuel had the task

of filling in blanks

when we leaped, willy-nilly,

over Presidents we couldn't recall.

then, Joseph suggested we play a game

of going around the table to see

if we could name all of the elements

(in order, preferably...

however, he's the only one who can do that).

quite quickly, the parents were eliminated

(seriously...ununoctium?),

but the boys managed to hang in there

until the rest of the unu's.

so, on the way home, they went back and forth

about t.v. shows they both thought they could master

and settled, finally, on SpongeBob

- the game being to name as many characters as possible -

which devolved into descriptions such as

you (hopefully) can hear in these clips

 

i love them.

going to maranatha

peanuts, buttons, & crumpets besides,

we came to Plains in order

to hear Jimmy Carter's

Sunday School lesson.

 this required us to put on fancy clothes

in what felt like the middle of the night.

 and greet the Easter sunrise

with about 200 other

early-risers.

the teenage

secret service.

 

a unique congregant

the Maranatha Baptist Church members

held their sunrise service at nearby Plains Baptist Church,

then arrived (to the throngs)

for a breakfast

before Sunday School.

President Carter arrives!

we had all been observing

the advance detail of Secret Service agents,

who went through their duties

(including a dog sniffing each car)

prior to the Carters' arrival.

~

a small procession of cars arrived,

presumably from the sunrise service,

and two of the cars seemed

Presidential.

we were correct!

 ~

we all watched carefully

as they made their way up the walk

and into the church

in their snazzy matching jackets.

 finally

we were told we could

get in line!

we had to empty pockets & purses

and demonstrate that cameras

were actually cameras.

& they waved magic wands all over us,

just to be sure. 

we happened to sit

just behind a reserved seat

for the agent who appeared to be assigned

primarily to Mrs. Carter.

 we were only permitted

to take photographs

at the very start,

when President Carter spent time

finding out where everyone was from.

i tried to take full advantage

of the opportunity!

 his message focused on love, peace, and forgiveness.

at the end of the church service,

each family was allowed

ONE PHOTO

(don't blink, don't breathe, don't move)

with the Carters.

while the boys look like movie stars,

we parents seem slightly stunned.

 an exceptional time

with exceptional people

of plains & politics

i was quite young when Carter was President & was certainly not political in any sense.  my first encounter with his run for President was, actually, not in the United States.  from 1975 to 1978, we lived in Scotland, and i recall that my parents had a Carter/Mondale sign in the front window of our house.  i later learned that they had asked my maternal grandmother to send them the sign from the U.S.

 while in Plains, we strolled along the little row of shops

and stumbled into political button heaven

(or the opposite, depending upon your point-of-view).

 one of us went for sentiment.

 one for in-the-moment hilarity.

 and another for strategic investment.

 can you guess who was which

& which buttons we chose?

i have no remembrances of his campaign

(recall my ex-pat status, at the time),

but i think he was fairly unknown

and just kept repeating his name,

again & again,

until it stuck.

 his campaign headquarters

were in the old train depot

in Plains, Georgia.

  my three politicos

 

a somewhat unrelated (but not)

conversational snippet

that is representative of

how i am typically able to respond

to my youngest's queries....

back to Jimmy's world.

back at the museum,

the boys tried out a replica

of the desk Carter used as President.

 Presidents Harris

part of the museum is dedicated

to the work of The Carter Center.

 to me, it was reminiscent

of the messages we heard

at the MLKJr museum in Atlanta.

 food for thought

in these times.

 well, really,

any times.

i heart Jimmy Carter.

what an honorable man.

~ ~ ~

living like the windsors in americus

so, in case you don't know, i kinda like posh.

i'm the kind of person

who finds glamping appealing.

although i do have an affinity

for motels

(provided they are neat as pins,

don't reek of smoke,

& feel unquestionably safe),

i'll pick a fancy historic hotel

at the drop of a bonnet.

breakfast a deux at Rosemary&Thyme, while teenagers slumbered

 so when i was looking at places to stay

near Plains, Georgia,

i nearly swooned when i came upon

the Windsor.

 originally built in 1892

& renovated in the 1990's,

i am a sucker for impressive,

wood-grained lobbies.

the floor is made of marble from Cortona, Italy - one of the towns we visited long ago!

 we didn't spend too much time

in Americus or at the hotel,

but what little we did

was very enjoyable.

our J.W. Harris found his building!

 the Rylander Theatre,

where Jimmy & Rosalynn Carter

had their first date.

one of our awesome

family selfies

(post-Sunday service)

now, back to the past

for the next post.

an archery boyhood

Jimmy Carter was born in Plains, Georgia, on October 1, 1924.  His mother was a nurse, and he was actually born in the local hospital - which was unusual at the time.  Around age four, the family purchased a house and land in nearby Archery and started a farming life.  Two sisters and a brother followed Jimmy, and those of us who were cognizant of his time as president likely recall his 'colorful' brother, Billy.

The farm is part of the National Parks now, and you can tour it, the farmhouse, the commissary, and another house on the property.  So we did!  Happily, though it was gray and breezy, the rain generally held off.

Being raised on a farm in a primarily African-American community is significant in understanding the person (and President) he became.  He, also, had a mother who continued her nursing profession throughout his childhood.  And Christianity, specifically rural Southern Baptist, permeates his life - both then and now.

 

the yard, both front and back, is thick, white sand!  i've seen dirt yards before, but never a beach!  apparently, both help keep snakes and vermin away from your house.  guess you can see them coming, at least.  and build sand castles.

they were the second owners of the house (but not the last owners, who sold the property to the NPS).  for a house in the middle of a very rural land in the 1920's, i was mightily impressed!  kind of a large shotgun house, with a central hall that stretched from front door to back, with rooms on either side - bedrooms on the east; family spaces on the west.  the furnishings are not from the Carters' life but are representative of the time.

 

note the metal bucket hanging over the shower.  it has holes in the bottom of it!  the pipe would release well water (by the time they had an indoor toilet, they had a windmill to do the pumping) into the bucket, and voila'!, your (cold) shower!  they were mostly enamored of the flush toilet, i'd think; however, on a hot summer's day, a cold shower is a great thing, too.

 Jimmy had the back bedroom.

 there were a few plantings just for looks, but most everything else was planted for use or consumption!

(you can see the windmill in the background.)

 one unusual feature is the clay tennis court!

seems to me a surprising avocation on a farm.

apparently, Jimmy Carter's father built it almost immediately

after they moved into the farmhouse.

wonder where he learned how to play?

since there were no banks to speak of, 'commissaries' often evolved on farms - for profit (perhaps), and also for a way to trade or buy things that weren't made or grown on the farm.

 outside (above) & inside (below)

the Carter Commissary

heading back into Plains

to tour the school & museum.

in step with their mother :)

for grades one through eleven (there was no kindergarten nor twelfth grade), the children (white, that is) attended school in one building in Plains.  now it is a museum for Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter.  three years behind Jimmy, and friends with his sister Ruth, Rosalynn is, also, from Plains and attended the same school.

 a real chalkboard...and the device that enables you to make parallel lines on the board.

possibly for handwriting practice???  how quaint.

Mike in the classroom.

 Plains High School auditorium.

so, speaking of Rosalynn (pronounced like the flower, by the way!), she of Plains....this was her childhood home (below).  when she was born, neighbors came over to see the new baby and brought their unimpressed three-year old, Jimmy.  Rosalynn grew up attending the Methodist church in town but did know of Jimmy through her school friend Ruth Carter.  The story goes that, when Jimmy enlisted in the Navy and Rosalynn saw a photograph of him in his white uniform, she became quite enamored.  On leave, and having a date cancel at the last minute, Ruth convinced her brother to take Rosalynn, instead.  They went to see a movie at the Rylander Theater in nearby Americus, Georgia.

 he had to ask her twice,

but Rosalynn did eventually agree to marry him.

they wed in her home church in Plains

and moved to Virginia and, then, Hawaii

(Jimmy Carter worked on submarines)

during the first eight years of their marriage.

three sons later,

Jimmy Carter's father died,

and the family returned to Plains.

he farmed for awhile,

then decided to attempt a political life....