A Visit to Travelers Rest, Georgia

Last weekend I went to north Georgia for a dose of fall color. In my opinion, if the seasons were four sisters in the same family, fall would be the ridiculously pretty sister, the one who also had a great personality.

We were also able to stay in the city of Toccoa without spending any on lodging, thanks to my aunt, who owns a rental in Toccoa. Her mother would normally be there, but had been recently moved to a nursing home due to some health issues. So we were asked to stir up the place a little, and so that's what we did.

The visit to Travelers Rest was a bit of an accident. After a day of exploring Tallulah Falls gorge, we came back to Toccoa a little early to turn in, but a little late to do an entirely new activity, so I thought a drive to the South Carolina border would be a bit of a novelty. Toccoa sits about 20 minutes from the border, and the road you take passes by the turn to Travelers Rest. So that night, I mentioned it, and promised that we'd stop by to have a look the next morning, when we could actually see it. I doubted that it would be open on Sunday, however, but figured we could look around the grounds.

Well, Travelers Rest WAS open the next day. There was a cost to view the interior and get the tour, but you could wander the grounds for free. Admission: $4. Surprisingly, we were the only ones I saw paying the admission fee. The vast majority of people were wandering the grounds aimlessly reading signs they probably had no context for understanding.

And can I tell you something? I had no idea of the historical significance of the place. I was astounded. This unassuming spot in northeast Georgia has been touched by Creeks and Cherokees, commerce and bloodshed, Civil and Revolutionary war soldiers, politicians and merchants. It's been the crossroads of commerce and the center of obscurity. It was prized by the richest man in Tugalo Valley.

I saw it all for $4.

Some of my pictures are here.

But there's a cautionary tale here as well. The funding for the site is being cut, forcing the facility to cut days, hours and jobs. The jobs they are cutting include people who know more about this facility and the surrounding area than all but some of the oldtimers still living. We spent hours there listening to their stories, about past visitors, family reunions involving the white and black descendants of the same family line, about all the nooks and crannies of this fascinating historical gem. These same people fear for their jobs.

But here's what I'm getting at. The economy is bad these days, but this is our history. So instead of driving long distances to spend money you're concerned about parting with, go online today and find your Travelers Rest. The national register of historical places is a good place to start, and they have listings by state. They won't all be cheap tickets. But lots of historical sites are ridiculously cheap and crying for your attention. And if we don't value them, they will disappear.

If you're going to stimulate the economy, think about saying something with your money, about what you value and about what you think needs preserving. I think all historical societies will appreciate your business.

Summer Swan Song

The summer is coming to a close again and normally I would say not a moment too soon. But this summer has been different for me in a number of ways.

First though, I must tell you of a summer tragedy. The pool at my gym is closing down.

Owing to age, budget cuts and expensive repairs, the owners at our local pool have decided to close it at the end of August. I find it distressing. For some time now I've enjoyed visiting it on Sunday afternoons. I walk the pool's length several times, I do aerobics, I swim, I float -- all in cool comfort. Afterwards, I sit in the whirlpool to relax and then spend a few minutes in the steam room before changing and heading home. For the rest of the day, the scent of chlorine lingers on my skin, and both my body and my brain flounder like wet noodles.

Woe is me. It will all end this month.

But there have been other surprising joys this summer, from a girl who counts spring and fall as her favorite times of the year. I was able to plant a garden this year, and though the results weren't spectacular, it was okay fun to share with my friends.

I went on summer vacation, a miracle in and of itself, and I have a depth of appreciation for my trip to Charleston that I can't really express. It wasn't just a vacation. It was rest. It was recuperation when I particularly needed it. I won't soon forget that lesson: when you really need a rest, don't deny yourself. You short change yourself and you short change others.

And above all, this summer I found a new direction for myself. I've been talking about it (and will continue to post about it) in the upcoming months in my "Real Goal Getter" posts, but the wonderful Ah-hah! moment came in the summer.

And by God, it's rare for me to think during the hottest time of the year. Surely that's a sign that things are stirring.

I hope you all had a wonderful summer as well. Now stand back people, here's hoping for a truly amazing fall...

--Laura

You've Been Extremely Helpful!

I will never forget parallel parking on Folly Beach.

Saturday night was the last night of my Charleston vacation. Stacy and I decided to drive to Folly Beach for dinner. If you’ve never been, it’s the last island in a cluster of islands surrounding Charleston, and locals call it the “Edge of America”. We located the restaurant on the corner of a prominent intersection.

Right next to the flashing lights of the Ambulance and the Fire Truck.

Stacy’s expression implied she thought that was a bad sign. “They don’t appear to be coming FROM our restaurant,” I observed.

The center of town was a cross between a carnival and a bike rally. The breezes blowing from the beach were fierce and the last street vendors of the day were taking advantage of them to display all manner of flashing and blinking, whizzing and whirling wind toys. Stacy found a parking spot near the restaurant and started to parallel park, but got stuck because she was used to parking her mustang and not my RAV4. I got out of the car and stood on the curb to direct her in.

While I stood there, I was mildly distracted by the conversation going on behind me. Two residents, male and female, were walking on the sidewalk behind me. Suddenly the man stopped and said, “I can’t wear these, they are too big!” His female companion stopped next to him and said, “Here, try mine.”

His slurring told me he was drunk, but I had to turn around to determine that he was referring to his flip flops. I was relieved. There were so many other things he could be taking off. The two twirled in a boozy dance as they held onto each other, coordinating the exchange of flip flops while maintaining their compromised sense of balance. They perfectly balanced the whizzing and whirling wind toys across the street.

Stacy commanded my attention from the car. “Am I close enough to the curb now?” she wondered.

“I don’t think this is the place where we need to worry about perfection. Looks good to me.”

We reached the restaurant and had our names on the waiting list before Frick and Frack arrived. Their conversation soon included us as a matter of course.

“It’s all your fault,” the man told Stacy. She apologized. “That’s how it all starts,” I said. He immediately agreed. The woman then spoke up to tell us she wasn’t speaking to him. He didn’t seem to mind.

“You know what I’m talking about,” I told him with just a little gangster bravado. I had no idea what I was talking about, but he laughed knowingly. Stacy says he only had one tooth, but I didn’t see that one, so I think it was just wishful thinking on her part. He looked like a pirate who’d lost his crew and his way.

“Ladies, you’ve been extremely helpful!” he shouted abruptly.

We watched him walk off with his female companion. They both swayed like island palms in a stiff breeze. “I hope they stop when they hit water, or they’re both going to drown,” Stacy said.

The restaurant was a hole in the wall. The food was served in plastic bowls. We ate with plastic forks. Our drinks were in plastic cups. The food was great however and we giggled most of the night. It was just one of those “you had to be there” moments.

And I’m really glad I was.

--Laura

Vacation with a Purpose

People have different agendas for vacations. I remember growing up, my dad and I went on vacation with a family friend and his grandson, David. We went to the Disney establishment in Florida. I think we should have known better. Nothing good can come from Disney.

Anyway, this friend was a typical Type-A personality. Every waking minute was planned. And most minutes were waking minutes. He liked to be on the go constantly. Lord have mercy, it was tedious. The man did not have an "Unwind" button.

There's the opposite of course, doing absolutely nothing. I'm not in favor of that either. I think a vacation should have a purpose. But when I work 49 weeks out of the year serving someone else's purpose, I think on vacation, I should serve my own. I even think Mr. Harry deserved the vacation he wanted. I just didn't want to share it. Fortunately, that was the last time we did.

I'm enjoying mine. As you and your family plan cookouts, reunions or family vacations to the Statue of Liberty, the Biggest Ball of yarn in Idaho or the ancient steps of Malta, seek a vacation that serves you. My wish for you is rest and restoration.

--Laura

The Happiest Day of the Year

I’ve made the decision today to shorten my entries. This is after reading a story on the NPR website that says the internet has reduced our attention spans. Turns out, at around 800 words a piece, I’m long winded. Well who in my family didn’t know that already?

Speaking of family, my mother has pneumonia and is taking drugs. Mom, if you’re reading this, you should stop, you need to rest. It’s not good for a woman with a pacemaker to have pneumonia, and you sounded terrible. There, please go to bed now.

Another story on the Atlanta Journal Constitution this morning proclaimed that this was the happiest day of the year. This was determined by a psychologist in Wales. It’s my understanding from people who’ve been that Wales is one of the gloomier destinations on the Irish Sea. It’s also called the Land of Song, which I suppose people must do to keep their spirits up. I guess what I’m saying here is a psychologist from Wales would have to find this subject mighty important.

Anyway, he came up with a formula for predicting the happiest day, which looks like this:
O + (N x S) + Cpm/T + He. Which is time spent outdoors (O) plus Time in Nature (N) times the Socialization of summer (S) plus the positive memories of childhood summers (Cpm) and factoring in the temperature (T) and the anticipation of vacation (He).

Wow, this guy is really into summer.

So how many of you agree? Was this your best day ever? I give it a mixed review. Work was a wash, but taking his equation, I decided to up my chances of feeling good. I got home, called a few people (stimulating pleasure centers in my old noodle), then I went outside to mow the backyard. Well, until I ran out of gas. But that was a good start, right? And my hammock was calling me. So I took a little time out to swing under the trees, think about my vacation time next month, and play with my animals who always entertain me. Then I watered my vegetables, picked up a few things around the house and now I’m listening to a new CD that came in the mail today by Chris Thile, who wants to tell me that Not All Who Wander Are Lost, the title of his CD and a quote from Tolkien as it turns out. So far, the first track, “Song for a Young Queen”, is pretty up tempo.

So I don’t know, maybe happy days can be predicted by an equation. Maybe what happens instead is you set a goal to be happy and you bring things to the table to make it happen. What do you think? This psychologist also predicts that the gloomiest day of the year will be the third Monday in January. I guess we’ll just need to wait and see.

Mom, seriously, go rest.


Chris Thile, "Song for a Young Queen"