Thursday, February 23, 2006

This Week's Southron Pride - Feb 23rd



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Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Dreaming of a Warm Summer Morning

An early start is the secret to intense physical activity on a deep south summer day. When I lived in fantasy land I was a very active runner logging 12-15 miles a week for several years running. In the summer I would get up early, normally by 6:00 AM and head out for my morning run. It would be 75 degrees and 75% humidity at 6:30 AM and by 7:30 the temperature would be on the rise; by 9:00 AM only mad dogs and Englishmen would venture out.

My favorite place to run was on Park Avenue in Winter Park. Winter Park is the old money neighborhood in the Orlando area, and Park Avenue is the social and shopping center of the old money. It was (and still is) a delightful place to dream of what life would be like if your grandfather had struck it rich in railroads, banking, lumber or garden seeds (yes garden seeds, one of the old money families made a fortune selling garden seeds and went on to amass the worlds largest collection of art work by Louis Comfort Tiffany, and much of the real estate along the Avenue.) I spent seven wonderful years finishing a four year degree at Rollins College at the south end of Park Avenue and I have very fond memories of my time there.
Early in the morning before traffic picked up it would take 15 minutes to drive from home the Avenue. I would park on the Avenue across from city hall. My course took me north up Park Avenue, past the upscale shops. I could smell the pine trees, palm trees and old money. I’d go north past the golf course, go east toward the lake, slow for a moment to see if I could spot the bald eagle nesting in a tall long leaf pine in Malcolm’s front yard and then swing back south along Lake Osceola on Interlachen Avenue to Lyman Avenue then go west across Park Avenue, past city hall and on over to New York Avenue and north again to the golf course and cut across and come back down Park Avenue. The total course was about 3.3 miles and would take me 24-28 minutes. For years I kept careful notes about every run on that course.

By the time I finished I would be drenched in sweat, literally dripping wet. I would cool down by wandering up the Avenue for a couple of blocks, then come back, cover the seat in my car with a beach towel and head off the gym for the rest of my workout. Running in that weather set my mind free, I did not have to work to warm up or stay warm. Moving actually cooled me down as I slid through the air. My mind would wonder during those runs. No one could disturb me; no phone calls, or pagers, or conversations. It was just me, the sounds of the wind in the trees and the early morning songs birds. Running is a very solitary pursuit, just me moving through the wonders of a warm southern morning.

I ran this course year around for several years, but early summer mornings were always the best. The warm start made movement easy, breaking a sweat within a couple of blocks. I would inhale deeply air sweetened by millions of sub tropical flowers. I would cherish the solitude before the drone of the air conditioners started to drown out the sound of the wind in the trees, my being moving swiftly through the warm morning air. I can relax by just recalling those wonderful mornings.

DG
http://travelpenguin.blogspot.com/

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Sand, Tequila and Turtles - A Great Memory!

My pal Elizabeth is such an organized girl, that she makes me tired sometimes. On this particular road trip her OCD turned out to be our salvation.

Me and her and our girls were headed to the beach in Granny's van packed to the roof with supplies for a few days away from real life in the 'burg. We left West Tennessee in the pre-dawn hours with no set ETA in mind. Our destination? The Alabama state park resort in Gulf Shores. We had gotten a wild hair and decided to head out for my favorite sandy spot with our adult girls in the back seat between the suitcases and tequila. Granny's van wound its' way through the foggy ribbon of US 45 through Bucatunna and Shubuta, Mississipi and down towards Mobile. Once we crossed the bridge there, it was only a matter of time until we were reached our destination. There was no money or desire to shop at the outlet mall in Foley. We wanted the BEACH.


BabyGirl has never quite forgiven me for not shelling out for her tatoo at that cool little place on the main strip to Beach Boulevard in August. The timing was just right for us, with most family vacationers having done their duty and headed back home for the school year. We had the place to ourselves except for a few stray surf lovers who propped their umbrellas up for the day and enjoyed the view. Our neighbors on the sand for those few days included an elderly couple who obviously adored each other and the Gulf as much as we did. A few miles down the road is Orange Beach, the commercialized version of Gulf Shores, Alabama. Just a hop skip and a jump away from there was the bar known as the Floribama, situated at the state line on stilts over the sea.


On the way home,we took a turn to the right and visited a fish house way off the beaten track on the river's edge. Fishing boats circled the old building where we picked up a styrofoam cooler full of shrimp packed in ice for Granny's payback on the van loan. Early that morning I had walked the beach to say good-bye. As fate would have it, I ran into a couple of volunteers who were monitoring a sea turtle nest. Don had a stethoscope draped around his neck and Sandy followed his every step toward the black plastic drape protecting the spot where the eggs were. Records of the nest were protected in a plastic baggie under the sand, with every movement recorded for the next amateur biologist to follow. Sandy wrote to me later and said that the babies were born shortly after I left. The usual ritual is that their protectors dig a trench in the sand so that maybe ONE or two turtles will make their way to the waves to live out their twenty year old lives.

Written by: Poopie
http://www.keeepinthefaith.blogspot.com/

Monday, February 20, 2006

My Sizzling Summer Heaven

Beads of sweat ran down my face as I trekked through the pine trees that dotted Lake Bruin's banks. The tall pines did little to cool the Louisiana air in the summer time. The stifling humidity was so high that it was like breathing water. Even the homemade strawberry popsicle that I brought from home only helped a little. My tongue and lips froze from the sugary-sweet frozen ice, but that was the only thing that was even the least bit cold. My bathing suit stuck to me like a second skin. This kind of sweltering heat was normal so I didn't think about it much.

A rough, splintery pier jutted out into the lake. As I stepped onto the pier, I noticed the bream jumping in the shallow water coves around the Cypress knees. The Cypress trees resembled old Indian chiefs standing in knee-deep water; the Spanish moss hanging from the branches blew in the wind like their old gray beards. The lake air welcomed me to my second home. There was a pleasant freshness in the air that, strangely enough, smelled like the combination of mud and fish.

The afternoon sun reflected from the silver tin roof of the boat house, which was connected to the pier. I climbed up the ladder to the roof, spread my blue Bugs Bunny beach towel very quickly, and laid down in the sun.

Starcraft ski boats with Evinrude motors raced up and down the middle of the lake with skiers tagging along behind. I heard the egrets and mallards calling each other in their own special ways. I saw the catfish splash in the brown, murky waters below me. Kids from neighboring camps laughed and jumped from piers on each side of me. Barbeque pits smoked and smelled deliciously of spicy sausages.

After lying in the sun for a while, I threw my beach towel to the pier floor and dove from the roof into the dark water. The water and I became one. It got darker and colder as I continued to swim toward the bottom of the lake. My feet touched a place where it felt like wet feathers tickling my feet. Really, it was soft, slimy mud. Then almost instinctively, I flip-flopped and began to rise to the surface.

Over and over, I climbed the ladder to the roof and dove into the lake. Even though no one else was around, I was not alone. On Lake Bruin, I was never lonely. I had the Cypress Indian chiefs, the mallards, the egrets, and the catfish. When the sun started to set on the other side of the lake, I could hear a voice calling me. It could have been the willows or the crickets, but most likely, it was Daddy. I pretended it was the crickets and ignored it. I was in no hurry to leave because I was in heaven.

http://www.ladybellagrace.blogspot.com/

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Note from the Editor.......

I would like ya'll to send me your favorite Southern Summertime memory. We're all tired of winter and looking forward to the warmer weather. Let's dig into our memories and bring out a really good one. Something you'll always remember with happiness. Something WARM. :)

This Week's Southron Pride

Friday, February 10, 2006

Southron Pride Cartoon Strip

I am quite pleased to introduce a new comic strip that found it's way to me. "Southron Pride". Written by Alexis and Davis Mauldin, it's exactly what I try to share at the Dew, Southern pride, gentle humor about our eccentricities and the education of others showing that we're not "racist ignorants" because of our speech and mannerisms.

I'm excited about this strip and am hoping that I'll be able to share it with you on a weekly basis as the newest addition to the "Dew".



Press Release taken off their website:



Stereotype-Busting Cartoon Strip Launches

Fueled by tenacious pride in their “Southron”* heritage and having grown weary of the stereotype portraying most folks in the South as ignorant, gap-toothed rednecks, Alexis and Davis Mauldin are launching Southron Pride with Cecil and Jake in early 2006. Cecil and Jake, the new cartoon strip’s main characters, seek to put-a-whuppin’ on the mean-spirited, inaccurate image that has been sold to large sections of the nation.

Cecil, a black, middle aged, white-collar worker, and Jake, a white, middle aged, blue-collar-type, are best friends and proud, lifelong Southerners. They love Dixie and wax eloquent about the blessings of living south of the Mason-Dixon line. Frequently, they poke fun at Yankee perceptions that are way off base. The two characters’ comments range from humor to wisdom to political commentary (“Politicians should be limited to two terms ... one in office and one in jail”).

Frequently listening in, Jake’s hound dog Wallace interrupts his snooze to offer pithy doggie commentary in thought balloons about the conversation at hand.

Cecil and Jake are unapologetically and consistently politically incorrect. They are Christians, but they don’t preach. They love Southern values and institutions, such as family, chivalry, country music, NASCAR, huntin', fishin', SEC football, and grits. There is no racial tension between the two men ... Cecil and Jake genuinely like each other. The strip portrays Southern folks as the majority really are: people of faith, friendly, family oriented, laid back, helpful, and humorous--with a large dollop of country-inspired common sense.

The inherent goodness of Southern culture and values has been ridiculed too long in favor of race baiting and attacks on family, heritage, and history. Cecil and Jake - with Wallace’s help - are on a mission to revive Southron pride and to preserve and celebrate all that is good and positive about the South.

Southron Pride is a collective effort. Alexis and Davis Mauldin (pen names: Puisin & the Commander) are lifelong Southerners, 30+ year political activists, and writers. The Mauldins created the Cecil and Jake concept and write the scripts, while Christopher Thomas, a professional graphic artist, created the characters and draws the strip.

* “Southron” is the old-fashioned word for Southerner.

Sunday, February 5, 2006

Juliette, Georgia... Home of the Whistle Stop Cafe

A couple of years ago my family was traveling to Florida on a slightly circuitous route. We had to go pick up a family member in Atlanta first. So we would be going down on 75 South.

I had an inspiration after just finishing watching the movie, "Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe". I had heard that the actual town it was filmed in was in Georgia somewhere. I also heard the cafe was truly there. It was an old railroad town.

The "Whistle Stop Cafe" book is loosely based on a real-life restaurant, the Irondale Cafe in Irondale, Alabama. The restaurant is still very much in operation and somewhat of a local tourist attraction, thanks to the novel and movie. But the movie was filmed in Juliette.

It was surprisingly hard to find. I found some references to a town called Juliette, which was 'closed down'. I could find no other information.

I was determined though and kept looking on maps until I finally found the town. It was listed as only being a mile or two off the highway so I asked Darling Hubby if he would please make a slight detour so that we could see the town.

There the adventure began. Come to find out, the sign for the town was missing going southbound. We never saw it at all on the way down to Florida. A few days later we headed back and as luck would have it, had to take the same route to drop off the Atlantan. There was the sign for Juliette!!!!!!!!!

Hubby was a sport and slammed on the brakes so that we could shoot off that ramp. Now mind you, it said Juliette, but nary a mention of Fried Green Tomatoes. After a mile we get to the end of the road. Had to turn right or left but no sign for the town. So of course we turn the wrong way. Hubby really was a sport and instead of getting back on the highway offered to try the other direction for a bit.

Miles from the turnoff we literally run into the town! It's right there in your face. No stop signs, no red lights, still nothing mentioning Fried Green Tomatoes.

But we pulled into the town, which in reality was no more than 8 buildings. We quickly realize that out of the 8 buildings, 6 were curio shops for the movie. They just hid it until you walk in. Then you can buy Whistle Stop Cafe souvenirs until your head explodes and your wallet is empty. Batter mix, post cards, stamps, t-shirts, fry pans, etc. The whole shebang.

We walk to the end of the street and there it is! The Whistle Stop Cafe! Just like in the movie! It was open and serving a full menu. Well people, we weren't even hungry but there was no way I actually found the town and the restaurant and wasn't going to eat there!

We had the Fried Green Tomatoes, of course, and chicken, meatloaf, greens, sweet tea, anything Southern and fried you could possibly want. We sat at the window booth where that sheriff that was hunting for the missing wife beater always sat. There were movie photos and posters everywhere. It was so exciting. I will tell you though, the food was very disappointing. Poorly done. My husband had a chance to go thru there a year later with a friend and they stopped and had lunch - he said the food was much improved, quite tasty, so I suppose it's possible we were there with a fill-in cook or some such thing.

After lunch we walked around to all the spots in the movie. The BBQ pit where quite possibly things besides pork were BBQ'd. We went to the resevior where you can walk out to the spot that Idgie, Ruth and Buddie crossed the dam (and there's no way they really did that - they would have been pushed right over the edge by the current, let me tell you!). We went to the railroad tracks where Buddy lost his life and Buddy Jr. lost his arm.

In about 45 minutes there was nothing more to see or buy and we got into our car and went off. I realize that nothing historical happened there (That I'm aware of), that it was nothing more than a dead town used to film a great movie, but it was fun to get out and "recognize" it.

Juliette is about 1 hour south of Atlanta off of I-75. It's 9 miles off the highway. It's still there, hasn't closed down if you feel like taking a side step.

If you have an urge to see the old town, and it's around lunchtime, pull off the road, have a bite and take a quick look around. (I'm not sure if they're open for dinner, I believe that's seasonal.)