Just an old sweet song, leaves Georgia on my mind!-- Willie Nelson

We indeed paddled faster. I’ve seen parking lots turn into DEEP lakes in Memphis, during their thunderstorms: never underestimate Southern weather. Just a couple of weeks earlier, downtown Nashville flooded out the downtown area (well the park anyway). It was an adventure getting home in that rain; thankfully Cindy drove. Nashville is an active town, during our road cruises, we were passed innumerable times by cop cars red-lighting it. Then again it WAS the South. Maybe the cops down there just like to red light it for the hell of it.

I wanted to stop at Hardee’s (it’s an affiliate of Carl’s Jr, which is my favorite hamburger stand) Cindy says "YUCK no I got food poisoning there once!" I stand warned, in the South fast food might be a dangerous adventure. "Well there’s a McDonald’s" I added hopefully. "NO my MOM got food poisoning THERE"! She wheeled into a place called Krystal’s. "Now this is an after-show tradition, we need some Gut Bombs". These turned out to be mini-hamburgers on soft rolls, laced with onions and various mysterious pickled veggies. We took it home and narfed out, fending off multiple attacks from the cats. Cindy had a can of cat food all ready, and served them before us. Cats can really blackmail you when you come home late with good food. Moe used to share my 10 o’clock cheese snacks with me, never could get him interested in wine. (My dog likes wine, tho).

April 19: The next morning again we crawled out in shaky shape, and (heaving Godzilla into the car) Cindy took me to the Hertz rental which was a very short drive from her house. I’m a bit like ol’ Maggie Clarke, I enjoy geology wherever I go, and in Nashville, it’s plain the place must have been underwater once. Lots of strata and layered rock (like Knott‘s only for real); ah if I could only magically transport all this flagstone home and landscape with it! We also saw a sign saying "Trail of Tears" which I had forgotten, yes this was the staging area for most of the Removal (thanks to our good friend, Andrew Jackson of course, the pork-barrel pirate king). My family was the first wave, they Removed themselves voluntarily (must be in the blood, because I do that a lot with annoying social situations, especially the Moody fan base at times). Once they got to Oklahoma, they sent back word "don’t come, this place is awful" as they sat freezing their arses off in snowstorms at Fort Gibson (my great great grandfather died there I think). Thus the rest of the Indians in Georgia and Alabama had to be removed at the point of a gun, all except those that ran to the Florida swamps to join Asi Yahola (Osceola). Ah well I digress. But it was plain I was on the right path to explore my own genealogy, which was my plan for the day.

You have to understand, my name is NOT Moodychristie. I don’t live to follow Moody bread crumbs through every theatre in the country. I have other interests. This day was to be for a jaunt to Georgia, just li‘ll ol‘ me, thru back country. I can hear the banjo music already. As I soon had wheels back under me, I hugged Cindy and promised to come back and visit her again sometime (and I fully plan to, I liked the area).

Zoom!!!!!!!!!!! Off down the freeway. I saw magnificent birds wheeling about. They turned out to be "tukky buzzards" that is, our ubiquitous national bird, the turkey vulture or buzzard. Atlanta used to be called "buzzard’s roost" I found that on an old map. I was glad I wasn’t going to Atlanta, cities give me the cold shakes. Years ago my dear Scorpio friend Jane (who also dropped me like a used tissue) told me she loved Gone with the Wind, and just HAD to fly to Atlanta to see Justin’s Border’s show there. I often wonder if she ever scored with Justin. She tried hard enough, and being pretty she might have even done it. But I bet she got more than she bargained for, she dropped out of sight years ago, and I often think of her when I think of Atlanta, and Moody Blues.

Cindy told me about her trip to Graceland in Memphis, asked if I was headed that way (I’ve driven past it, long ago when I was in the Navy in Millington, wasn’t interested then, and wouldn’t go out of my way now). She said it was really worth it, the King had some interesting taste in decorating, and one room was downright spooky. I traveled South instead. I just can’t hack Memphis again, I have too many bad memories of being there in June, and how hot it was, in the Navy and being so far from my home on the West coast. Those were different times.

I keep this notebook on the seat next to me when driving, and jot down thoughts, many of which never see light of day again. One intrigued me upon re-read: "Can the BS Christie, and put on your best Southern manners". Well really, this is all a thing about "what is disgusting, what is not" often. I really enjoyed Nashville, and found people so nice there, a relief after such meanness on the Moody webs, often my only social outlet in a very busy world. I’ve gotta get out of this intense Moody fan club stuff, really.

I kept seeing all along the road, all through the South, signs for hot boiled peanuts. I can’t imagine such a nauseating meal! Are they like dry roasted peanuts, only soggy? Do they salt them? I wasn’t inclined to stop and find out. Ugh goobers.

I called my Dad on the cell, right after I passed the Jack Daniel’s factory just south of Nashville, near Chatanooga.(I didn’t stop to see the Choo choo either). And the first thing he asked about was "isn’t there a Jack Daniels brewery there?" the Old Man has done the Whiskey Trail in Scotland too. "Naw Dad". I didn’t stop.

Moody gremlins doth vex me! I swear I lost and found stuff over and over again in my car, including sun block lotion, room keys, camera memory sticks, and one can of beanie weenie. I’m getting like Luna Lovegood, and in the same sense "It all reappears in time for me to go home". It did, every bit of it showed up again. I turned the car upside down looking for that damn can of weenies, and it actually shook out of the black hole and reappeared after about 5 days. Very weird.

Here was a great sign I saw along the road. "Robotic surgery for your prostate gland". I'm glad I won't be needing anything like that in my lifetime.

I went past the Laurel and Hardy museum, somewhere just west of Augusta, and again didn’t stop, trying to stay to the time-table. (Stan Laurel was British I know, and understudy to Charlie Chaplin, but I do believe Oliver Hardy was indeed a Southerner, he could play the fiddle and was in a great movie doing that, wearing coonskin caps with John Wayne). I also had to skip a place called Olcmulgee (spelling more or less right) which is another archeological site associated with the Mississippians, involved an "ancient corn field", it was just too much to do in the short time I had. (I’m damn good at timing my trips, was rather proud of my talent this way…. The time table worked perfectly).

Along the way I first passed Rossville (another spot on my genealogy tour, John Ross was Cherokee, and friend to my family, they used to stop there and bunk with him when they traveled). The road to Fort Oglethorpe (nearby) was called Cloud Springs, and that is a great name to use in a book, isn’t it? The clay is all red down here too, old volcanic soil, like in Hawaii. South of Rossville is Echotah (ea-SHOW-tah), the ancestral capital of the Cherokee.

Entertwined in all the historical places I tried to find on this trip was the ubiquitous CIVIL WAR. Good lord that is all over the place back East. It got sorta annoying, I’m more interested in the stuff prior, and I could care less about Chickamunga and those sorts of sites.

Dogwoods in bloom everywhere! Gosh those are native in Washington state, how cool they are here too! I picked some at various stops and they sat on my dashboard until they wilted and faded away. The trees were budding out in what Cindy called "broccoli trees" and I spotted Red Buds here and there, very lovely. I do five miles over the speed limit, but I was passed like I was tied by many insane drivers, who had a merry disregard for all authority, didn’t use turn signals, and all seemed to be cousins to the Dukes of Hazzard. (Did I mention I saw one of the cars from that show out front of a honky tonk in Nashville? Cooters!) Harley is the bike of choice all across the South, many passed me, and very few wore helmets. I passed winsome young nubile lads with fishing poles, and no shirts. Ah this is my sort of country! 

I took this from the top of the biggest one, which was Mound A, that is Mound B you are looking at.

I think these are modern art, but copied after old pieces found in the various mounds.

My first stop was the Etowah mounds, which are Mississippian culture (as opposed to the Ohio River civilizations, which were the Adena and Hopewell). I’m so cheap, I waved my Indian card rather than pay the $4. Boss Hogg’s cousin gave my card a good scrutiny "this doesn’t look like the ones…." "It’s an old one" (which it is) "but it has the zebra stripe on the back". He grudgingly said I could go out and hike around on the mounds. It wasn’t all that exciting, but it WAS a pretty large heap of earth, about 3 stories tall. It kept the peons busy for more than a few years. The Tustenuggee on the top must have had quite a view indeed, and I bet it was great for pageants. The steps were a good deal like the Mayan temples (probably done in imitation? Or these were the earlier ones?) After climbing up for the view, I had had plenty of excitement, and hiked back to the museum. I looked ……… YEP! They are here too, just like at the Hickory Grounds in Alabama! Wild Onions! This is a big thing in my tribe, we do a Green Onion feed every Spring to celebrate the warm weather. Where there are Indian ruins in the South, there are always a lot of wild onions, they must have cultivated them. I munched some happily, did a quick scan on the museum (more books telling us all how Indians shot deer with bows and arrows) and hit the trail again, with a nice camera full of photos.

Zippity doo dah, zip pity aye! My oh my what a wonderful day! I could just hear the words, heading through the beautiful green woods that used to be plantations, and all this wonderful weather! WOW.

Next stop was Newnan, GA which was on "Grierson’s Trail" (my ancestor, thank you, though sometimes it's Grayson, same family) and the ancient dividing line of the Cherokee and Creek territory. I couldn’t find the marker, so I’ll have to live with the photo we found on the Internet. I found Jackson’s Landing in Newnan. I crossed a lot of rivers along the Flint Chatahoohee Heritage Highway, the commerce must have been for the trace (path) to cross all those rivers, and of course, the natives ran up and down the rivers in canoes, and shipped goods on rafts to the Gulf, if the river was big enough.

I was East of the Chatahoochee; Grayson’s Landing (on that river) was in Franklin, to the West of Newnan. Did you know the Chatahoohee translates as "stone flowers"? That’s what the old map says, and it notes that "this river is full of flower shaped stones" What geological force would make stones look like that do you suppose? 

I’d been to the places to the West of here, so I turned East and followed the Flint Chatahoohee Heritage HWY. So old great aught grand daddy used to do Daniel Boone along this road? Far out. The trail led into Scarlett O’Hara country, south of Atlanta. If you’ve ever read Gone With the Wind, she talks a good deal about how after the War, with no workers, the plantations rapidly returned to their native state, that of pines and woodlands. It occurred to me, here was the first "ecological recovery" zone in our nation’s history. Just imagine what our Dust Bowl would have looked like if it HADN’T recovered, it might have stretched further. 

I even crossed the McDonough Road just like in the book! I was headed next to Indian Springs, alleged to be where the McIntoshes lived (friends and in laws to my family, the Graysons). It was a fur piece off the highway, when I got there it was a park full of WPA era recreation buildings. I went around a corner. WOW. These are really cool rapids, and the musical tone of the zillions of little waterfalls was lovely indeed. I can see why it was a stopping spot for travelers on Grierson’s Trace.

Eatonton: still singing "Zippity Do Dah", I wheeled into the town that was home to the guy who put B’re Rabbit stories on paper (Uncle Remus tales). Song of the South has been put into the Vault at the request of Disney himself many years ago here in the US (and I agree with that, Americans aren‘t ready for it), but it’s available overseas I know. I love that movie, I own a bootleg. Anyway I did see some signs hanging downtown with rabbits on them, otherwise the only thing left of B’re Rabbit was a squashed carcass literally in the middle of Main! I laughed! Like they said about the Frog "How can it be a tale when it ain’t no tail?" A cute little town, and I left rapidly, not able to find the museum (which was closed anyway I suspect)

I JUST had enough daylight to find one more thing on the list: the Great Stone Eagle Effigy. Just north of here. In the fading light, I squinted through my readers at maps and directions, and sped up the road………. Turned into a deep woods, parked in a deserted parking lot….. Hiked up the spooky trail.

 OOOOOOOOO you live for these moments. IT REALLY WAS A SPIRITUAL PLACE. (It also happened to be Passover! Maybe we DID come from the 13th lost tribe!) All the Indian places I’ve visited over the years did NOT have the vibes this place did. The Rock Eagle has a fence around it, so people don’t lug off the rocks (like I would have). I think the magical part of it, after I looked at it, was that it actually seems to be a cross between a turtle (water creature) a bird (air creature) and is made of earth. Indians did these sorts of things. I padded creepily around the thing in my moccasins, and enjoyed the shivers, then I heaved another matching rock over the fence onto the Effigy, adding my part to the thing. I think there must have been someone buried in it, it was raised like a mound. Then I picked up a little rock nearby (of the same sort of stone) and ran for my car. I said some prayers too, which are none of YOUR business, but it was a place to talk to the gods, without a doubt. When I emerged from the forest, the Full Moon was just rising, and the Sun was gone. Wild geese called out overhead, and I headed North looking for a sleeping spot. 10 hours on the road, and spirits dancing through my head, I was goofy, and it was time to shut her down.

I think this must have been the night that, after getting a nice room for pretty cheap, I headed into the town about 9 pm. It was a small town, and I cruised the Walmart looking for supplies (never mind about finding booze, I figured I was doomed there. This was the Bible Belt, and likker sales are indeed iffy in these places). Got what I needed, then headed for the Quick Stop for (ugh the bloat) beer. I got a jokester clerk who spotted my windblown hair, and no doubt the accent which I didn’t disguise quickly enough. What a flirt! (he was cute too) "You know this is Redneck luggage" he cracked, holding up the plastic bag. Hohoh hohoh. "You know here in the South, we are really sensuous" he said. I wondered if I was in for a real pick up line, or if that was it. "I says to my wife ‘Honey, since you was up, could you get me a beer?’" (this makes more sense if you say it with a thick Southern accent). Hoohhooh. I paid the bill and got out of there quick!

Anyway I finally figured out the joke about gals "putting on their make up to go to Walmart" in the South. In these small towns, everyone goes to Walmart to shop, and you might meet any number of people you know. So thus people don’t go to Walmart unless they are well turned out. I looked like hell, and I didn’t meet anyone I knew. I felt very good about that.

• I’m a sittin in the little shed that’s right back of the house
• When here comes Jake with alla his hounds, you’re gonna hear me shout
• I won’t go huntin’ wi’ ya Jake, but I’ll go chasing wimmen
• Go put them hounds back in the pen, and quit yer silly grinning’
• The Moon is right and I’m half tight……….

My room actually had pictures of fox hunts on the walls, complete with people in British riding red, and hounds! I fell asleep humming our old family favorite about Jake and his hounds. A nice day indeed.

April 20: Hertz gave me a weird car. For one thing it didn’t steer as well as a Ford, which I’m used to (even if my little crummy Ranger is a beater). A few times my wheels almost locked, speeding and turning the wheels too suddenly for the design. The ergonomics were all wrong, and I had a terrible time getting the wipers to work once I hit rain.

I had one more stop to do before I could catch up to the Moody tour. This is my main reason for coming. In the era before the Revolution (1776, for any reading Brits) my ancestors settled first in Savannah, then moved up river to Augusta, which was a frontier town in those days. We had found the address on the Internet to "Fort Grierson" in Augusta, and it was my task to find this place, and then scope out the graveyard at St. Paul’s Episcopalian Church, which is all that is left of Fort Cornwallis. These sites are just down Jones Street from each other, and not far from the River at all. Augusta is also the home of James Brown, godfather of Soul, and I wonder if he isn’t descended from Colonel Brown, who was a lodge brother of the Griersons.

Anyway I think I might have found the original buildings of that era, of Fort Grierson. They sure look Revolutionary, very old and in bad need of restoration, rather along the lines of New Orleans homes in the French Quarter. One was a boutique, or what passes for such in Augusta. One was for sale. There were four buildings side by side, and I wonder if it wasn’t a "house for each brother" sort of thing, as there were indeed four of them. It was a pretty neat moment. I took tons of pictures of architectural details, and picked up a wood chip from what I think must have been an old Chestnut tree growing up alongside of the outer home, long since chopped down. Looks like the same sort of bark. Obviously all the photos of these houses are available to my family, and they are incredible, write me and I'll get them to you.

I liked Augusta (it felt weirdly familiar!), something tells me it’s cleaned up a lot in recent years. There was a park and jogging trail all along the river, very pretty (both forts were set well back, upslope from the River too, no flooding here!) It was very slow and dead on a Sunday morning, which was fine (I almost bumped into a priest coming out of St. Paul’s too, all dressed in red, he was a cutie. Can Episcopalian priests marry I wonder?) There was a museum there, but you know it was chock full of Civil War dreck, and besides it didn’t open for two more hours. Besides, we have Colonel Grierson’s family Bible, not much more we’re going to find in the museum I suspect. I didn’t stay, but there will be other trips to Augusta, and other researches. I sped off NORTH, to Greenville, and to the over-priced room I had reserved there at the Embassy Suites.