Best of North Georgia Mountains Issue 41 - May 1, 2019

ISSUE #41

Food, Music, Art, Events, Things To Do, Places To Go, Adventures, Local Writers, Humor...And Much More!

BODY ART Derrick Schroder helps his clients create their own messages with their tattoos.

INTERVIEW/32

SOLDIERS SOMETIMES HAVE TO BECOME CHAPLAINS, TOO / 44

' n i m a e St ' n i m m u r t S & !

G N ALO Glenn Wagnon Fletcher's ancestors were the pioneer 'truckers' of the 1800s and 1900s as they delivered goods across Alabama and Georgia for decades on their steamboats. Now, Fletcher and his brothers continue to proudly salute their heritage with original bluegrass music!

DETAILS/6

THANKING THE DEDICATED NURSES WHO TAKE CARE OF US Don’t miss our special tribute - Salute to Nurses / Starting on 23

Ferris' milestones

When I first started in the newspaper business in 1976, my first boss, Paul Miles, wrote a twice-weekly column called "Milesstones."

At the time I caught onto the clever play on his name, but I was too young and foolish to understand the deeper meaning.

Life is full of milestones (or "Milesstones" as my boss would have spelled it), something my family has been

By MITCH TALLEY quick to discover in 2019. Not only did this writer hit the milestone age of 60 this year Publisher (where have the years gone?), but our daughter, Sophia, will be walking across the stage at Calhoun High School in a few days to pick up her diploma (again, where have the years gone?).

It seems like just yesterday when I walked across that stage myself and picked up my own high school diploma, but the facts show that it's been much longer.

So, to all our younger readers out there, I give you free advice in the vein of Ferris Bueller: "Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

Mitch

Publisher: Mitch Talley Publisher’s Boss: Cindy Talley Founder: Robb Newman Founder’s Boss: Thia Newman Distribution: Eddie Ash, O. Myback Issue Graphic Design: Mitch May 1, 2019 Talley, Cray Ola Writers: Mitch Talley, (c) 2019 The Best of Robb Newman, Thia the North Georgia Mountains, Inc. Newman, Lora Bunch, Raland Patterson, Kathi Editorial submissions Hill, Kathi Chastain, encouraged; send to bestofnorthgamountains@ John Shivers, Patricia Kovsky-Dotson, Ted yahoo.com or mail to 312 Smith, Rebecca Strobl, Double Tree Drive SE, Calhoun, GA 30701.

Joe Cobb Crawford.

#41

To advertise or suggest a story idea, call Mitch Talley at 678-882-6741.

Glenn Wagnon Fletcher honors the legacy of his ancestors, steamboat pilots Peter and William Wagnon, with a musical tribute to their hard work at the helm of their crafts on...

‘GOD’S HIGHWAY’ Glenn Fletcher

Glenn Wagnon Fletcher of Dalton may not be able to stand at the wheel of a steamboat on the Coosa River, delivering his load of cotton to Alabama the way two of his ancestors did in the 1800s and 1900s.

But he can still honor Peter and William Wagnon in his own way, with the bluegrass music he and his brothers have created as a tribute, including a CD last year called “Steamboat & River Songs.”

“Many readers are intrigued by life in the Deep South during the steamboat days of the 19th century,” Fletcher writes in the introduction to his book called “Steamboat and River Adventures of the Wagnons.” “I grew up hearing stories of this environment and the steamboats that were a part of the lives of my ancestors, a life that combined regular operations of

By MITCH TALLEY

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The Alabama delivered cotton and other goods along the Coosa River for years.

All real education is the architecture of the soul. - William Bennett

the farm, the river, and other experiences of the Wagnons.”

Peter and William Wagnon were among the pilots navigating steamboats along “God’s Highway,” as the river that meanders through Whitfield and Murray counties is sometimes called since it dominated life in the upper Georgia and north Alabama area, much the way I-75 does today.

Beginning around the 1840s, steamboats transporting cotton bales were an important part of the local economy, carrying other freight and passengers, too. Later, Confederate soldiers even depended on the

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We don’t stop going to school when we graduate. - Carol Burnett

Peter Wagnon's first large steamboat was the Willie C. Wagnon, shown above.and his next one was the Alabama II, eventually owned and operated by his son, William, shown at left at age 16 in his Civil War uniform.

steamboat for transportation durPeter Wagnon had come ing the Civil War. into north Alabama the first “Cotton and freight had a lot to time around 1786, weldo with growth and life along the comed by the Turkey Town Cherokees. He eventually river here,” Fletcher says. “By 1845, a 400-pound bale of cotton fought during the War of 1812 along with Gen. Ancould be shipped by steamboat for $1 from any point to Rome, Ga. drew Jackson (future presiThere, it was loaded onto wagons dent), young Sam Houston (future governor of Tento go 15 miles to Kingston, and trains carried it to Charleston, nessee and Texas), Davy Crockett, and Cherokee S.C., in just a few days for $3.85.

The English mills took all the raw leader John Ross. Indeed, cotton Georgia and Alabama could these five came together in ship (as well as mills in Dalton, 1814 at the historic battle Rome, and Gadsden, Ala.).” of Horseshoe Bend, just Glenn Fletcher enjoys playing a tune with bluegrass star Ronnie Stoneman. east of Montgomery, Ala. One of the first steamboats on Peter ultimately had a “God’s Highway” was the Coosa, a small draft steamboat of 40 tons that had the potential to move through farm on 2,700 acres of fertile acreage by the Coosa River in Alabama, which was later deeded to his son, William. Some of that land, 160 shallow water of two or three feet, depending on load, weight and curacres, even survives in the family today with Fletcher holding the deed. rent. A few other shallow draft steamers that could navigate the shallow Somewhere along the way, Peter decided to get in on the action on rivers of north Georgia were the Conasauga, Coosawattee, Oostanaula, the river and became a steamboat owner/operator. “I don’t know what and Resaca.

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The doer alone learneth. - Friedrich Nietzsche

his first boat was for sure, but he eventually had a little 40-ton boat called Resaca and another one called the Coosawattee,” Fletcher said.

“He would haul logs out of Murray County on the Coosawattee River. I think they came all the way to Dalton, pulling logs with ropes behind the boat. They’d just cut the trees, roll ‘em off the river bank, tie ‘em up, and pull ‘em on down to the mill.”

“That was a lot better than pulling ‘em with an ox and wagon,” Fletcher said with a laugh.

Peter’s first large steamboat was the Willie C. Wagnon, and his next one was the Alabama II, eventually owned and operated by his son, William. Both were double decker steam wheelers of 200 tons, 150 feet long with plenty of room for cotton bales, freight, and an upper deck for passengers. These boats and others were so big that locks to raise water levels had to be built to allow them to navigate through shallow areas.

They also built wing dams to help the boats move through the shallow shoals, and one of Fletcher’s relatives, Alton Wagnon of Murray County, told him some of the wing dams are still visible today. “To make a wing dam, they dumped rocks in from the banks on both sides,” Fletcher explained. “The rocks would build the water up maybe a foot or two so it would be deep enough for boats to go through.”

Eventually, though, the steamboats fell victim to progress, with the railroad stealing away many of their customers and eventually putting

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God will not look you over for medals, degrees or diplomas, but for scars. - Elbert Hubbard

the steamers out of business by the middle of the 20th century. The last new boat on the river, the Cherokee, arrived in 1916, and the Alabama II was put out of business by the railroad around 1945-49.

Fletcher, now 81, remembers going on one of the steamboats with his grandfather as a child while it was docked at Gadsden, Ala., still barely afloat in the 1940s.

“I don’t know which boat it was,” he says. “It wasn’t running at that time; it was just sitting there at the dock. It was probably even sinking by then. I went on board with my old Wagnon granddad. He walked me around, put me in the pilot house and I turned the wheel – I still remember that.”

While Fletcher never piloted a steamboat on the river the way Peter and William did, he did manage to follow in their footsteps in another way – music.

“Square dances were important social events on the 200-ton boats when the lower freight deck was clear,” Fletcher says. “Peter and WilThe Fletcher Brothers Band has entertained area audiences for decades.

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I always wanted to have my own album released before I graduated from high school. - Christina Aguilera

liam both, at times, played Over the years, the Fletcher Brothers made several fiddle there.” recordings, including two with a distinctly historical twist.

Fast forward a few decades, The first CD, released in 2013, is a 19-tune tribute to the and the Wagnon musical tradiGreat Locomotive Chase of the Civil War. “I just got to tion has been carried forward thinking that there are a lot of songs about trains, but no

by Fletcher and his three one’s ever done anything about (the Great Locomotive brothers.

Chase,” Glenn said. “I realized that was a great opportuBorn in Ball Play, Ala., nity for us.”

Fletcher says the brothers The songs tell about the events more than 150 years ago when two dozen Union spies stepped aboard a grew up making music.

“My father learned to play train near present-day Kennesaw. Their mission was to harmonica in World War I and steal the locomotive, the General, and drive it north to came back playing,” Glenn Chattanooga while doing as much damage to the railsays. “My mother played road along the way as they could. They didn’t make it to piano, and I had three older Chattanooga, running out of fuel just north of Ringgold. brothers who all played differThey also didn’t do much damage to the railroad, and ent instruments.”

The Wagnons’ old frontier cabin in an undated photo. most were captured. But their daring won some of them the very first Medals of Honor.

The brothers began playing Last year, Glenn and his brother, Barry, released another historical bluegrass, gospel, and mountain music together in the 1940s and even15-song CD called “Steamboat & River Songs,” with song titles like “Full tually worked their way all the way into the Alabama Bluegrass Music Steam Ahead,” “Muddy River,” “Willie Oh Willie,” “Sinking of the Willie Association Hall of Fame. Along the journey, Glenn earned a living as a C,” and “Copper River Wreck.” It’s all an effort to keep the steamboat teacher and football coach in Alabama and Georgia, eventually retiring memories alive for future generations. from Northwest Whitfield High School in 1991.

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One half who graduate from college never read another book. - G. M. Trevelyan

By Patricia Kovsky-Dotson

The original CONVENIENCE STORE Today's convenience was yesterday's necessity at Newman's in McCaysville

Many folks today will remember seeing country stores standing along the back roads in many areas.

Mostly they were situated some miles apart where farm houses were located. These stores of the past supplied homes with the items they did not raise on their farms. As we remember, these were such things as coffee, sugar, lamp oil, salt, and several other necessary items.

The stores were the forerunners of our present convenience stores, for certainly, they had most every item on their shelves that could be used in homes out in the country. These interesting stores are no longer open and their wonderful old time buildings are no longer in our landscapes, but their influence remains with us today.

The story I want to tell you is not about a back road country store, but one which at one time was located only about a half mile outside the then city limits of McCaysville, Ga. It was a modern looking store with the owner's house attached to one end.

It did not have the run down look of the older stores. It was called “Newman's Store,� owned and operated by the family of Frank Newman. There wasn't a sign, but everyone knew.

Back in the day, it was considered a country store, even though it was situated right smack dab on the side of Highway 5, heading toward Blue Ridge. It must have originated some-

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Education is what remains after one has forgotten what one has learned in school. - Albert Einstein

time during the late 1920s, but I remember it in the mid-1930s and '40s. It was in a highly populated area at the time, so I suppose there was a need for a store in this area. As kids, we thought that this was “our” store because we were there most every day! Also, as kids, we thought where we lived was way out in another world, even though it was only a mile and a half out of town.

Now, don't go looking for this store, for it was sold at the death of Mr. Newman, with the store part being torn away from the house, which is still standing. I still remember it in the 1950s and '60s, and in my mind, I can still picture it today. I only wish I had made pictures, but who wanted a store picture back then? The pictures are in my mind!

Going toward our home, only about a quarter of a mile past the store, we would always urge Daddy to stop there! Never mind, kids, things had to be purchased every day, and visits had to be made with Frank and Ruthie, while the kids enjoyed Gwena and Paul Frank.

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Upon approaching, you could see the oldtime gas pumps a few yards in front of the store. They had the round, lighted glass globes on top, stating the brand name, which I do not remember. If Daddy needed gas, he would park near the gas pumps. If not, he would pull out of the way of other customers on the gravel area, for it was a busy store. You hardly ever parked on the concrete area in front of the door and between the pumps. What a small area, but it served well in its day.

My memories are entering the door, which had a screen, with some bread company ad attached to it. The building was small compared to stores today, so you could see everything at once, which tempted the eye.

As soon as you entered, you could see the old time glass candy counter. This is where you put your purchases to be checked out, and either paid for or charged. Yes, I said, “Charged”! This was what most everybody did back in those days. They probably got the idea from the Company store downtown, where

purchases were made and taken out of your paycheck. I am sure Frank only charged to reliable neighborly customers, who could have paid as they went, but this was so easy and convenient.

They had bill pads like you have seen, and each item was listed by hand with the amount in the proper column. It was totaled at the end, torn off, giving the customer a copy and putting the other on “file” awaiting payday.

The “file” took up about two to three feet of the counter. It was metal with layers of metal “pages” which were on hinges. On your particular account, there was a metal hinge somewhat like on a mouse trap, which held your daily account. It was easy, and everyone knew that payday would come.

Well, at the first of the month, Daddy and others would come in to pay. My Daddy called it time to “settle up.” The clerk would remove your stack of bills, add them up again on the hand-pulled operated adding machine, and soon you would have your total and write your

Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world. - Nelson Mandela

check.

Then came the fun part for the kids! They would always give you a “treat” for paying your bill. It had always seemed to me as a kid, that we should be giving them a treat for charging things for us for a month.

There was always an ice cream cone, cold drink, bar of candy, or anything you wanted. These treats always tasted better than if our Daddy had bought them because to them we were special, and oh, yes, we certainly were! If we happened not to be there, we would always have a treat sent home by our Daddy.

Behind this “charge” counter, you could find cigarettes, snuff, tobacco, cigars, lighters, and anything else that might possibly stick to sticky fingers. As kids, we were not interested in this, but most of the population then certainly was. All we cared about was the candy behind the glass front.

Now, on behind and around this counter you would find canned goods, and back then there was only one size can and only one brand of each, especially in this small store. This was really all you needed and especially when you came to the cereal. You found only oatmeal, grits, corn flakes without the rows and rows of choices of today. This was convenient and all anyone wanted or needed.

Have you ever walked home from school on a hot day and were simply dying of thirst?

Entering Newman's Store, with the blowing fans cooling you off was in itself a treat. The first place you went was to your left along the glass front wall of the store. What more could a thirsty kid want than to raise the lid of that red Coke drink cooler! My choice was always an RC Cola, with the excitement of pulling it out of the cold water and wiping the drips off with the large towel provided. The opener was on the front, and once you heard that first spew, you were in another world!

Just now, with my memory of pulling out that cold drink, I suddenly remember some other name brands which may or may not be on the market now. Of course, there were Coca-Cola and Pepsi, but in the original recipe only. Then there was my “RC” Royal Crown, Nehi Grape and Orange, NuGrape, along with Dr. Pepper and 7 Up. Some of these brands have moved on to market several varieties which are available

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today. Long off the market was that famous grape drink that was manufactured and bottled in McCaysville. By the way, Copperhill back in the early days boasted a Coca-Cola bottling plant. See, back then, we still had good choices!

Naturally, you were needing a snack, so you made your way to the glass cookie jars next to the cooler. After making the difficult decision as to which one you wanted, you took off the glass lid, stuck your dirty little hand in the unwrapped loose cookies, and pulled out your choice which tasted like homemade. On occasion there was that famous Moon Pie or an ice cream cone. But the real bottom line was that you could charge it to your Daddy, and we knew better than to over-indulge!

Around from the canned goods you saw the small enclosed meat counter. Looking through the glass you told Mr. Newman what and how much you wanted, and he would get it out for you. After weighing it on the white old timey scales, he put it on waxed paper and then wrapped it in butcher paper. How much did it cost? You found this written in pencil on the top of the package.

About the only vegetables he had included potatoes and onions. One reason was the lack of space, and also family gardens supplied the fresh vegetables. It was special when you saw that you could buy a head of cabbage or lettuce on special occasions.

In the center of the store you could buy school supplies, small hardware, mops, brooms, washing powders, and a few other necessities of life. They did not need much space for these items, as in that day there was no liquid washing soap for dishes nor clothes, and certainly no stain removers or fabric softener. Yet, we survived!

Pulling out all of these memories reminds me of some old-time brands of washing powder, dishing washing powder, starch, and scrubbing bars, which this store and others stocked during this period. And if you can remember back, most all of them had a radio serial program in the afternoon which advertised their product and to which most housewives would never miss listening.

Have you ever heard of Rinso, Fab, Lux,Cheer, Duz, Oxydol, and Ivory

See GENERAL STORE, Page 42

An investment in knowledge pays the best interest. - Benjamin Franklin

NATIONAL NURSING WEEK MAY 6-12

THANK YOU, NURSES, FROM THESE SPONSORS! lCNA Nursing School of Calhoun lAppalachian Medical Services lTapestry Hospice lLa Parisienne II lThe Best of the North Georgia Mountains

An interview with an artist...

DERRICK

SCHRODER

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Derrick Schroder is a local tattoo artist in Jasper. He has been doing tattoos for more than 13 years now.

He started out on Hilton Head Island apprenticing under Chris Anderson, Isaac Dunn, and Dan O’Connell. Before he became a tattoo artist he was a tile contractor by day and an MMA fighter by night. The gym is where he met Chris, and they became fast friends.

By LORA BUNCH With Derrick already having an extensive background in art and an interest in tattooing, it was a perfect fit, and it didn’t take long for him to excel in his new field. He went on to tattoo in Savannah at the California Tattoo Company for an extensive period of his career. The shop was established in 1976 by the legendary Jack Witt.

I really enjoyed getting to know Derrick more and even conducted his interview while getting my own tattoo in the current shop he works in, The Mad Tatter.

Lora: When did you first begin

'Everyone has their own message with their tattoo they want, and I try to take their idea and put in my ideas and part of me to make it into something that makes happy and smile when they look at the finished product.'

Linda Poindexter: “When my father didn’t have my hand, he had my back.”

-DERRICK SCHRODER

learning and creating art?

Derrick: I was a kid. Art class was the class I was good at. I really have been creating art as far back as I can remember.

Lora: Have you had any formal art lessons or training?

Derrick: No, I am all self-taught.

Lora: How did you get started as a tattoo artist?

Derrick: I always liked tattoos and was interested. I was getting tattooed myself and would bug the artists that were doing mine, and my friend Chris gave in and let me apprentice with him.

Lora: Do you come from an artistic family?

Derrick: My uncle was a graphic designer and worked for some big-name magazines.

Lora: What message do you want to send with your art?

Derrick: Everyone has their own message with their tattoo they want, and I try to take their idea and put in my ideas and part of me to make it into something that makes them happy and smile when they look at the finished product.

Lora: Was there a point you saw art as a need or something that you must do?

Derrick: Yes, when my English teacher was getting onto me about drawing on my notebook with skulls and things that I would never get anywhere in life doing that. I was just like, well I will show you and here I am making a living doing just that.

Lora: What or who has inspired you or does continue to inspire you?

Derrick: Tattooist Chris Anderson, fantasy artist and folk art. There are too many to name them all. I like all kinds of art and sculptures.

Lora: Where is a place that you would like to go to with your art that you have not yet been to?

Derrick: I would love to travel the world with my art. I want to get a tattoo in New Zealand in the old tribal style. I already have it set up where I can tattoo in Costa Rica when I get there one day.

Lora: What do you see for the future of your art?

Derrick: I see a lot of traveling. I

Character is like a tree and reputation like its shadow. The shadow is what we think of it; the tree is the real thing.

- President Abraham Lincoln

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have purchased a camper to get started getting everything better. I still want to be here at my home base, but I want to take a couple weeks here and there to go travel to places I want to see.

Lora: What is your favorite part of creating your art?

Derrick: The creative process and getting everything together. It’s cool to watch it all come together.

Lora: What is the most interesting or favorite piece you have done?

Derrick: I like doing American traditional style and Japanese traditional style. It’s simplistic but still complicated at the same time and lasts a long time on the body. I have a lot of favorites so it’s hard to narrow it down to just one.

Lora: What different types of artwork do you create?

Derrick: Tattoo art, water color spit shade, carpentry, and I play with acrylics but watercolors is my main painting preference.

Lora: Where can people find you and your art?

Derrick: I tattoo at The Mad Tatter tattoo shop in Jasper. I’m on social media with pages on Instagram and Facebook.

Lora: What does art mean to you?

Derrick: Someone told me once if you do what you love you never have to work a day in your life, and I get to do what I love and put in self-expression daily. I love my job.

Lora: What are three things, not people, that you would not want to live without?

Derrick: My tattoo machine, painting tools, and my dependable vehicle.

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Lora: What music is on your playlist?

Derrick: Hate Breed, Lamb of God, Die Antwoord, Motorhead, Clutch, Johnny Cash, and TuPac, Suicidal Tendencies and many others. I like all types of music from honky tonk, to hip hop to heavy metal.

Lora: Is there someone you would like to work with that you have not got to yet?

Derrick: Filip Leu who is a tattoo artist. Swiss tattoo artist who started very young.

Most days you can find Derrick at The Mad Tatter tattoo shop where he is affectionately known as the manager. He and the owner Sheena Bryant were co-workers at another shop, and when she decided to open her own shop it was no question that he wanted to be part of her team.

The team at The Mad Tatter are like family. He does return to the Low Country at times to guest spot at Island Tattoo in Hilton Head. When Derrick is not tattooing you can find him building furniture, painting, attending concerts, grilling out, and renovating his camper with his wife Jennlauren by his side.

“Blessed are the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken.” - Albert Camus

Introspection at Dawn Lying here drifting between repose and consciousness.

My mind wanders through the presence of today.

We dance effortlessly for them with a rhythm so perfect like the ticking of the clock.

Tiptoeing with precise caution hesitating and questioning each step for ourselves.

I find it humorous and frustrating simultaneously. It’s admiral I must admit and in many ways even wise.

Patience has never been my forte.

God has an amazing way of turning turmoil and tragedy into beauty. His timing never falters.

I contently breath a sigh sinking into what is now while relying on faith for what is to come.

To my babies up in Heaven, You will always have my heart.

I had you but a moment, Then our lives were torn apart.

I long to hear your laughter, To feel your warm embrace.

One day I will have you, At the end of my final race.

I hope you’re very happy, Hope your hearts are full of love.

I hope you are proud of me, As you both watch from above.

Know that mommy loves you, And you’re always in my prayers.

And I’ll hold you in my arms one day, At the top of heaven’s stairs.

-SHANNA DUDLEY

-LORA BUNCH

The Empty Space I often feel the empty space, which is a part of me, It grew at such a steady pace, It would not set me free.

Remembering when it first appeared, I felt it day by day, Eternal existence my body feared.

Seemingly, it was there to stay.

I searched to find the answer to this lost and empty part, Having pondered my essence, I finally knew … It was my wretched heart.

It wanted someone with whom to share; A lover, a friend, a father, But the heart knew I’d never dare, to reach out for another.

So…It stored itself upon a shelf, denying its longing for others, But in the shadows it still hovers.

It had taken from itself so long, that emptiness was now its make, And even though I know it’s wrong, Bad habits, they’re hard to break.

-BADGER LANCE

CORNER

POETRY

THOREAU’S DREAM I was sitting by a pond when an old man came up behind I said, “Old friend,” and he was old.

You could tell by the tatters of his coat he was old.

You could tell by the tatters of his coat.

“I’ve spent many a year between the dark and the light," he said, "In canyons of an unfathomed drop.

Climbed mountains to the cold and bitter tops, bitter tops.

Climbed mountains to the cold and bitter tops.”

And suddenly he said, “I have seen into hell, And my feet have known a misery untold.

I’ve leaned back against the world to watch the heavens unfold, Leaned back just to watch them unfold.”

“Sit down, old friend,” I said, “Sit down and fish awhile, And perhaps you will catch that which you seek.”

Time cut the water like a fish fast and sleek.

Time cut the water fast and sleek.

And the fire of the light of the sun on the pond And the fire of the light on the sand Cast a shadow from the lone fisherman, fisherman, Cast a shadow from the lone fisherman.

Day Dream

She took a deep calming breath she understood the task would be herculean she spread her arms wide inviting the vulture inside to tear at her liver, as imps dug and taunted her on her shoulders For the price of this healing Is fire, dear Prometheus and You are beautiful

Forgetting that others, have free-thinking thoughts, you put them in corners, stuffed into a box.

But actually we’re all right, and we’re also all wrong, our minds have divided us, weak from the strong.

Instead of subscribing, to societal norms,

Should we not be daydreamers with wide open eyes infusing the epiphanies that whisper at night into the everyday language of our daylight lives creating a world of promise and belief... a dream that breathes and does not need sleep?

-A. SHEA (ANGIE WATERS)

-AMANDA HOLT

-TED SMITH

Me vs. you, them vs. us, the more you get sucked in, the more you mistrust.

CORNER

POETRY

look in your heart, and see all the forms.

Love doesn’t separate, it knows not this choice, it’s stuff that you’ve learned from some person of course.

So forget all this nonsense, you’re better than this, life is for giving, for sharing one’s bliss.

And the best way to live, if you’re asking me how, it’s to live from a place, that starts “here and now.”

Since you are in the present, there’s no past to compare, each person you meet, an opportunity to care.

Focus on similarities, like hearts, lungs and limbs, and know in your spirit that, Love Always Wins.

Now you can see me, and I can see you, together we’re family, all human, it’s true.

-SARA WINICK HERRINGTON

The real hero of Andrews Raid

On the rainy spring morning of Saturday, April 12, 1862, the Civil War's most daring and exciting episode began at Big Shanty Station, Ga., about 20 miles north of Atlanta.

Union Captain James J. Andrews and 19 Ohio volunteers stole a Confederate locomotive The General.

Known as The Great Locomotive Chase or Andrews Raid, the object of the mission was to break the rail link between Atlanta and Chattanooga by burning a wooden bridge at Resaca and one or both of the bridges at Chickamauga.

Their attempt to sabotage a vital Confederate supply line was part of a larger military goal: the capture of Chattanooga.

Most know the incident ended in disaster. Confederate authorities captured the raiders near Ringgold, just south of Chattanooga, after they had done little more than tear up a few rails. Andrews The General played a memorable role during the Civil War. and seven of the raiders went to the gallows. Congress gave the the nearest engine that could give chase. Andrews failed for lack of darmen of Andrews Raid the first Congressional Medals of Honor, and the ing. Being a spy made him well suited North hailed them as heroes. to penetrate enemy lines and steal History, however, is written by the locomotive, but his lack of a miliconquerors. The real hero of tary background proved his undoing. the Great Locomotive Chase Fuller succeeded, as heroes do, by was the hardy and resourcesurmounting every obstacle in his ful conductor of The General, path.

Marion T. "Ted" Smith is the author of a William Fuller.

In 1862, Union General O. M. Fate makes heroes. Truly new book, “Life in the Park: A Novel.” It Mitchel also recognized the imporheroic deeds are in response is available on Amazon and at Barnes & tance of Chattanooga to the South. to great challenges presented Noble.

While Andrews was sabotaging the by circumstance. On that rail line, Mitchel planned to march on wet spring day in 1862, fate Huntsville, Ala., and after taking it, he presented these two men planned to attack Chattanooga, cut off from Atlanta by Andrews. Mitchel with dire obstacles. Andrews had to contend with bad weather and other and Andrews recruited 23 volunteers from Ohio regiments to provide problems presented by a critical day's delay in stealing the engine. The armed support. theft left Fuller to pursue his locomotive on foot, over seven miles from

By Ted Smith

Develop a passion for learning. If you do, you will never cease to grow. - Anthony J. D’Angelo

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Andrews' first mistake was delaying the raid by a day. Mitchel's plan called for Andrews to strike on Friday, the 11th. Andrews postponed the mission because four of the raiders were late in getting to Marietta.

Had he been a military man, Andrews would have known how important timing was to his mission. Friday there was normal traffic on the rail lines. Saturday, in response to Mitchel's capture of Huntsville the day before, Chattanooga panicked. The army sent seven unscheduled freights loaded with supplies and munitions south to Atlanta to prevent Mitchel from seizing them should he capture the city.

His second mistake was in not thoroughly preventing all pursuit. At Etowah, two miles south of Cartersville, an engine under steam surprised him. The Yonah hauled iron ore from the nearby Cooper Iron Works to the main line.

At Etowah was also a wooden bridge over the Etowah River. Andrews considered disabling the engine and burning the bridge, but decided

40

against it.

Andrews’ third and most critical mistake was that he did not use force when he should have.

Twice in the raid, the captain had opportunities to ambush the Confederates chasing him, and both times he chose to run. A military man would undoubtedly have given more weight to fighting than fleeing.

Let’s be clear, Captain Fuller was no ordinary man. While Andrews was making several fatal miscalculations, Fuller was overcoming every obstacle with sheer strength and endurance, his superior knowledge of the rails, and reckless daring.

When he saw The General pull out of Big Shanty Station, he thought Confederate deserters had stolen it. A descendent of the Revolutionary War hero Ethan Allen, Fuller held a position of prestige. He was conductor of a locomotive as fast and powerful as any in the Confederacy.

He obviously took personal pride in his job, too, because when the train bell announced

The General was leaving, he immediately gave chase on foot. Fuller ran to Moon Station, more than two and a half miles away.

There he discovered that the thieves were not deserters and correctly guessed that they were Union saboteurs. He commandeered a pole driven handcar from men working on the track. He went back to pick up two assistants, and the three pushed the car through Acworth and Allatoona to Etowah, a slight downgrade of about five miles. There Fuller claimed the Yonah and drove it to Kingston. He covered the 15 miles in 14 minutes.

In Kingston, three freights blocked the Yonah. But Andrews was a smooth talker and convinced the station master to put them on the south line in order for The General to pass.

His story was that The General was racing to help in the defense of Chattanooga. But the raiders lost precious time. Instead of waiting for removal of the trains, Fuller once again set out on foot. He ran a short distance to the junction of the north-south and Rome lines to intercept

Intellectual growth should commence at birth and cease only at death. - Albert Einstein

41

General Store Continued From Page 22 Flakes, as well as Bon Ami for scrubbing and Niagara for starching?

Of course, you remember hearing of “As the World Turns.” Who could forget “Stella Dallas”?

Now, this store was really convenient when at the back you could find socks, hose, handkerchiefs and a little underwear. Another convenience was the small black coal stove found in the back corner. There was room for a few men to spin their tales, spit their tobacco and discuss the condition of the world, a throw back of real old times.

Back there you found a regular closed door. This was always an amazement to me that when Mrs. Newman was needed in the store, she appeared through this door which was an opening from the house to the store! Genius!

Buying gas was so convenient. All you had to do was drive up to your favorite of two pumps, and a clerk would come out asking you how much. After filling the tank, he would check your oil and, of course, clean your windshield. The best part was that you just said, “Charge it!”

My Mama's special like for this store is that they would deliver groceries in their little old timey green truck. All you had to do was call in an order. They filled it and charged it and most especially delivered it since families only had one car at that time.

Oh, by the way, if you needed chicken feed or fertilizer, you could get it there. You would never suspect it for it was kept in another room behind a closed outside door!

Now, what else would you need to make living so convenient?

Another money maker for the store and a most unusual one began early every weekday morning. Before workers on the day shift at the Company would come by, Mr. Newman would open the store way before 5 o'clock for their purchases. Upon entering, they had to have either something for their lunch, some snacks, tobacco and most of the time some gas. Who else was open? No store but the “convenient.”

I wish I could remember the prices back then, but growing up, this was not in my mindset. After all, all you had to do was say, “Charge it!” I do remember after I was grown and was driving, I still bought gas there, and it was only 35 cents a gallon, and yes, I was still saying, “Charge it to me!” What a life!!

In the beginning, I said that this was like the modern convenience stores for they had so many items. My husband's “Kovsky's Kwick Shop” on the corner in McCaysville some years ago was certainly a typical model of the highway store. In laughing with a customer when they would comment on the wide variety of items stocked in the store, he would say, “If we don't have it, you don't need it!” This could also be said of Newman's Store. This reminds me of the first convenience store I ever knew, for both of them had it all but certainly in different ways.

Stores have changed, towns have changed, and people's needs have changed.

This old store site I told you about would now be in the city limits

42

of McCaysville, which would have been hard to have believed back in the day. When my husband was mayor, they contracted for a group of apartment complexes to be built right across from this old store site and moved the city limits to cover it.

Times have changed from the country store, to the highway stores, to the more modern convenience stores. What these stores stock is what the public demands as we move forward. But you will have to say that the old time country store served everyone well, and its convenience has moved to town.

Now, were the country stores a forerunner or not?

The Real Hero Continued From Page 40

a scheduled train from Rome, the William R. Smith. Andrews still did not know he was being chased at this point but was only a few minutes ahead.

In the Rome engine, he gave chase toward Adairsville with a small group of men. When Fuller reached some track torn up by the saboteurs (where Andrews first heard the sound of an engine in pursuit), he abandoned the Rome engine and took off on foot. He ran another two miles before he intercepted a southbound freight, the Texas.

It is only at this point that the Great Locomotive Chase becomes a chase. The Texas was a very strong Danforth and Cooke engine and a near match for The General, even running backwards. Fuller rode on the tender and watched the track closely, but was determined to make all possible speed.

Most of the crossties and wood they stopped to remove, but Fuller did not see one obstacle in time. Crossties hooked in the rails in a curve north of Resaca surprised him. The Texas could not stop in time, but the tender jumped them without derailing. Moments later, Andrews released the first of the two boxcars, but Fuller coupled it to the back of the tender.

The raiders left the second car burning on the Resaca bridge, and Fuller pushed both cars on to a side track.

At Tunnel Hill, Fuller ran through the tunnel at full speed, still standing on the back of the tender. In desperation Andrews put The General in reverse and the raiders jumped off and ran. When Fuller saw The General running toward him, he reversed the engine on the Texas and outran it until the stolen locomotive ran out of steam. He then coupled the Texas to it and pushed The General to the point on the track where the raiders fled.

The Confederate Army made Fuller a captain for his deeds. Southerners hailed him as a hero, but after Reconstruction all Americans could appreciate the breadth of his courage and daring. He appeared at a ceremony commemorating the raid in Columbus, Ohio, in 1888, and only had praise for the courage of Andrews.

Education is the key to unlock the golden door of freedom. - George Washington Carver

Sometimes soldiers had to serve as chaplains during World War II EDITOR’S NOTE: The late Vernon Brookshire of Calhoun, Ga., compiled a three-inch-thick book of his remembrances about his service during World War II. Here he writes about the chaplains.

“Under hostile fire, the chaplains risked their lives (hundreds did die),” he wrote. “They gave encouragement, spiritual instruction, and comfort. They sought the wounded and the dying who lay exposed and helpless. They succored them, rescued them, brought them back to medical aid stations, and prayed over them. They buried bodies and wrote to families of the deceased.

Their stories will put a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes.

These unarmed men were/are real heroes. Today it seems that the people look up to professional athletes as heroes: football, baseball, basketball, hockey, wrestling, and all sports. But they are only overpaid athletes, and most are not role models. Also movie and TV persons are heroes to much of the public. It seems that most people are only interested in being entertained. Ministers and teachers are on the top of my list as the real heroes. The dictionary describes a hero as a person who does noble or brave deeds.” Today, as the nation celebrates Memorial Day in May, The Best of the North Georgia Mountains proudly honors Mr. Brookshire and the millions of other brave men and women who have served or are serving our country in the military.

By VERNON BROOKSHIRE

The spiritual, heroic, and unselfish service of Army chaplains in World War II should not be forgotten.

On Feb. 1, 1943, the troop transport Dorchester was torpedoed in the North Atlantic. The four chaplains aboard – two Protestant, one Catholic, one Jewish – calmed the worried soldiers and organized the distribution of life jackets from a locker. When the supply ran out, the chaplains pulled off their own jackets, helped four soldiers into them, and enjoined them to head for the boats.

The chaplains were last seen and heard on the deck of the sinking ship with hands linked, praying together for the preservation of those soldiers in the boats.

There were more than 9,000 chaplains that served in the Army during World War II, of which 65 were killed, 273 wounded, 57 captured (with 14 killed), and five died in captivity. Three were MIA, and non-battle deaths claimed 82. (This does not include the thousands of chaplains in the Navy, Air Force, and Marines whose courage saved many lives.)

The chaplain of our battalion had a tough time catching up with our scattered companies, for we were attacking ahead of “front lines” on parallel roads and all units were miles apart. He had more than he could handle ministering to the wounded, but when my company had to take time for maintenance and resupply,

The American Cemetery in Colleville-sur-Mer, Normandy, France, that honors American soldiers who died in Europe during World War II. The cross with the American flag is of an unknown soldier. Inset, a marker at the World War II Memorial in Washington, D.C. the chaplain came up, opened the doors of a small church and announced that he would hold interdenominational services.

I attended one of those services. He preached a good message, prayed, and then had communion service. It was uplifting and helped to prepare men to live or die – and many did die.

About two weeks later, a German plane strafed our armed attack force. Several vehicles were hit, and one exploded and was in flames. The driver got out, but he was covered with gasoline and on fire. By the time we put out the fire, he was burned black.

He begged, “Brookshire, shoot me!” I answered him, “I can’t do that.” But he was not thinking of himself or his pain for he cried again, “Brookshire, shoot me – I can’t go home and let my wife see me like this!”

Our medic gave him a shot of morphine,

and by then he realized that he was dying for he asked me to read some scripture in the Bible and pray.

He knew that I carried the New Testament in my breast pocket.

I read a few verses and prayed. Just as I finished, he died. For a few moments, at his request, I was his chaplain.

He got his wish; he did not go home. His body is buried under one of those thousands of white crosses in a beautiful American cemetery in France. He was awaiting, in timeless tranquility, for the Resurrection.

I wanted to write to his wife and tell her that he died thinking only of her, but I decided that it would be better for her to have good fading memories of him than to have lingering memories of her husband being burned to death.

Some memories cannot be deleted.

Sometimes learning can turn into a very humbling experience I’ve included a picture of a college. Here is another one of my learning experiences. December 1968 I was assigned to Hawaii (Schofield Barrage) when I completed Helicopter School. I had been there a couple months when some of the guys were talking about how they were going back to school at night so they could get their college degree. Since things had slowed down some, I figured I might as well check it out. I’d been passing this college on my way to Wheeler Airfield.

Since I hadn’t seen any other colleges near Wheeler or Schofield, I assumed that’s the one they were attending.

When I went in the office, the secretary asked if I had a boy or a girl. I told her I wasn’t married and didn’t have any kids. She looked at me like I was crazy and then asked how she could help me.

I told her I’d like to take a few college courses. She smiled back at me and said, “This is a Menehune College.”

I told her I knew that because I’d seen the sign outside. Then she asked me if my buddies had sent me. I was really confused and told her no and asked why she’d think that.

She laughed and explained that in Hawaiian mythology the Menehunes are said to be “little people” or dwarfs who lived deep in the forest and hidden valleys of the islands.

They were far from the eyes of normal humans and ate bananas and fish. Menehunes are the little people of Hawaii – kind of like pixies or trolls.

Then she said Menehune College is a kindergarten and my friends were playing a joke on me.

I thanked her and got out of there as fast as I could. No way was I going to tell her I’d come up with the idea to stop there all by myself.

46

There is no greater education than one that is self-driven. - Neil deGrasse Tyson

I DOUBLE DOG DARE YOU

I have been “down in my back” for weeks.

For several of those weeks, I was mostly in bed. I am finally much better, but still have a bit of trouble.

What the doc decided is that when I passed the second kidney stone in less than a week, somehow I damaged soft muscle tissue that takes months to heal.

Great. I didn’t have much of a life anyway.

After lots of massages, lots of adjustments, lots of X-rays, and lots of speculation, this conclusion was better than something like, “Well, Mrs. Hill, it looks like you need surgery.”

But here’s the interesting part. In order for this to heal, I am not to bend at the waist.

At all.

I double dog dare you to go one day without bending to pick up something you dropped, or to get clothes out of the washer or any number of things you do automatically. Try scratching your lower leg.

When the doc told me this, I looked at him like he’d lost his mind. But he started showing me how to stand straight up from a sitting position and how to bend one knee to pick up something (which I can’t do unless there’s something close by to hold onto because of my whacky balance issues). He said getting off the toilet was the hardest.

I’ll say. Daughter can’t do it either. It appears impossible to do at this point. If you succeed, let me know how.

Going home to practice, I found that standing up straight from a sitting position is very helpful and doesn’t hurt my back.

But not bending?

Seriously?

The first day, with Husband’s continuous help, I only bent twice, forgetting till it was done. I could tell my back was better the next day.

I mentioned this adventure to my mother, and she said I needed her Grabber.

I remembered The Grabber that was purchased after

Mother had a hip replacement some years ago.

It’s a device that looks sort of like a fishing rod.

At the top is a lever that you squeeze, which is attached to the bottom. The lever opens and closes the “mouth” at the bottom, enabling it to “grab” objects on the floor and bring them up to your hand.

This is kinda fun at first. The cats eyed me warily because Daughter had already nipped at them. But they got used to it and ignored me, knowing I’m more trustworthy than she.

Now, it won’t pick up something heavy, say a book. But it does great for dirty socks or a dropped washcloth, stuff like that.

It has helped, at least until I dropped The Grabber.

My life is interesting, to say the least. Just say a little prayer that I heal completely and perhaps can retire The Grabber…if I can ever get it off the floor.

By Ted Smith Marion T. "Ted" Smith is the author of a new book, “Life in the Park: A Novel.� It is available on Amazon and at Barnes & Noble.

Remembering the Senior Trip Another year is gone and time marches on. "Time keeps on Slippin', Slippin', Slippin', into the future.” So goes a lyric from Steve Miller's Band. It was 51 years ago that the 1968 Class of West Fannin took our Senior Trip.

Long ago, but I still remember that footloose and fancy-free journey into the wilds of Florida. I don't know why I went on that trip. I was married, broke and had no definite plans following graduation. After graduation I'd even had to borrow $300 from my brother Bob to make possible my escape from Fannin County, Ga. Fish don't really recognize water, and my classmates and I didn't sense our own turbulent times. The late 1960s were precarious. Social order seemed like organized chaos back then. Occasionally, one suspected that maybe the inmates had taken over the asylum. A week after returning from the Senior Trip, Bobbie Kennedy was assassinated. He was the third national figure to fall victim to the violent 1960s. I had taken a job. My first boss—a tower of intellect, wisdom, and compassion—grinned, and announced to my work crew: “Well, boys, last night Bobby Kennedy won the California Democratic Presidential Primary… and a slug to the head." Then he erupted into laughter.

Years later, I learned that some of my classmates hadn't been insulated from the crazy circumstances of the ‘60s. Many had faced dire dilemmas even before graduation. After graduation, some would enroll at The University of Vietnam. Some didn’t make it back to “The World” from Vietnam. Others, like me, were not sure what road to take, so they got a job and went to night school.

My graduating class of 1968 worked hard to be different, a strange notion to previous graduates. For their Senior Trip, former straight-laced graduates had chosen to travel to the seat of U.S. power and politics— the Emerald City—Washington, D.C. My classmates wanted no part of power, politics, or tradition, so off to Flowery Florida we flitted - following the other less traveled yellow brick road. (We actually had no say in not going to Washington. The nation’s capital was closed to visitors. African-American unrest following the assassination of Martin Luther King in

April was the cause.) For me, the Florida Senior Trip was an excuse to get away from my own crazy reality, but the trip was surprisingly informative.

Revealed to me were things about my classmates that I'd never known. For example, I learned that some were fearless rebels. I still can see Mr. Dunn, our Ichabodish principal, standing at the entrance to our chartered Trailways bus laying down the law. In Mr. Dunn's black and white world, his demeanor and his attire never changed: black shoes, white socks, black pants, white shirt, black hair, and black rimmed glasses. He bristled at one rebel in the crowd. He'd tried to issue an authoritative edict before our departure. Mr. Dunn began by saying something like, "On this trip there WILL be rules to follow.

You WILL be required to conform to those rules..."

Before he could finish his command, from the back came a bloodcurdling scream, "Conform? NEVER!” The rebellious protest only begat more verbiage from our slow spoken lord of discipline. His rules and warning changed nothing and made less sense to us than seeing two bald men fighting over a comb. To my classmates, Mr. Dunn was a blind man issuing orders to the young and the deaf. He only delayed our “rendezvous with destiny”: Florida—the land of no rules, freedom, and clear ocean vistas.

On the Senior Trip, I also learned that people have many facets of behavior depending on their surroundings. For instance, one stop on our trip was a Snake Ranch. The class and other spectators watched a guy who wore long leather boots marching around in a corral of rattlesnakes.

The snakes would strike at his protective boots as he walked by. He, of course was unharmed. Later, he left the corral. He led us to a place where he showed us other nonpoisonous snakes. He asked for a volunteer from the gathered spectators. Together they would demonstrate how some snakes are nonthreatening. Next thing I saw was a snake draped and dangling down from the neck of our 1968 Class Valedictorian.

That girl from Blue Ridge, Ga. she ain't right in the head I remember

By JOE COBB CRAWFORD

See SENIOR TRIP, Next Page

Conflicted in Kentucky

“It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.” How can they both be true? What in the dickens was Charles Dickens trying to tell us with that conflicted statement in A Tale of Two Cities? Was he drunk on cheap French wine when he wrote it?

The line harkens me back to the seven years I lived in Kentucky. It was the early 1980s, and the whole state seemed one big ball of conflicted confusion.

The matter centered on cultural changes.

Some were “ferit.” Some were “aginit.”

As an immigrant engineer hailing from Georgia, I felt I didn’t have a dog in their fight and felt less prepared to enter the dispute than a plow mule racing in the Kentucky Derby. Champions of the contested argument were the usual suspects—the preachers and the politicians.

Preachers in the 1980s called the state “THE SIN STATE.” The three sins they most railed against were horse races, bourbon, and tobacco.

Drinking liquor, smoking cigarettes, or gambling on horse races was a guaranteed ticket to Hell, they and many Kentuckians believed.

The politicians took an opposite position. They held that good could come from the three evils. They fostered jobs, put money in the pockets of the poor, and most importantly, they created taxable incomes. Politicians unapologetically pointed out that the three sins also put more money into the offering plate on Sunday morning.

After many disingenuous debates and much wrangling, a meeting of the minds was reached between the two factions. The consensus was that growing tobacco was okay if you didn’t smoke, dip or chew it; it was also okay to make liquor if you didn’t drink it.

And, horse race gambling—that was totally a horse of a different color because … wink, wink. No true blue blooded Kentuckian would ever bet on a horse race …wink, wink. But, betting would be just fine if you put a tenth of your winnings in the collection plate on Sunday and donated a little to the politician’s election campaign. Both were, of course, tax deductible.

Some rural counties strongly disagreed. Many from the backwoods hills and hollows voted their county “dry.” Alike “dry” votes were cast by moonshine makers, bootleggers, and the clergy; an odd uniform vote mix by conflicted voters, even by Kentucky standards. Years prior to voting it “dry,” liquor had been sold at one place only in rural Pulaski County: The Court House.

The true blue bloods were blind as a concrete block to other conflicting issues. One was the highfalutin, but widely unknown workings of the Kentucky Derby enterprise. The Derby was second only to Georgia’s Masters golf tournament in attendance.

The two had one thing in common: most attendees are not from the state of the event. Instead, most are well-off folks from worldwide locations. The race horses and horse farms are owned mostly by out-ofstate millionaires or big international corporations. During the 1980s the thoroughbreds were the property of inconspicuous oil rich Middle Easterners and Hollywood celebrity types. Like the sinful bourbon and the tobacco, the wealthy horse racing enterprise and its affiliates kept some folks one check ahead of poverty.

One last contradiction about The Run for the Roses really jangles my nerves: it’s that sappy sob song the attendees mimic. Sung by bonneted belles on the arms of searsucker-suited “Southern Gentlemen” the caroling is as phony as a three-legged race horse. Weepy-eyed, even before the midget jockeys get a leg up, the aristocratic couples mumble the lyrics as if it’s their own southern swan song.

“My Old Kentucky Home” was composed by a misunderstood Northerner of Scots descent named Stephen Foster who had a love affair with one of the state’s triune sins—liquor.

But Kentucky, The Derby and Stephen Foster are a lot alike in one way: their character is a mixed bag of confusion—each is full of irony, conflicts and contradictions. Famous and true Southerner Lewis Grizzard may have pegged the source of this Yankee border state’s schizophrenic culture when he said “I ain’t sure Kentucky is a Southern state…” Conflicted and confused like most states and their people nowadays, The Blue Grass State is still part of our beloved United States.

This spring I hope your horse won, placed, or showed in The Run for the Roses. Maybe you enjoyed a Mint Julep or smoked a cigar. Or like me, you indulged in another pleasure made possible by a true blue blooded Kentuckian—Colonel Sanders. His Kentucky Fried Chicken— aka KFC or by any other name—is still sinless and it’s still “Finger Lickin’ Good!”

By JOE COBB CRAWFORD

Senior Trip Continued From Previous Page thinking. She's read too many books or something. Doesn't she know that ALL snakes are poisonous?

Plenty of pranks were played. I recall no one sleeping more than five hours total. Sleeping was risky business, and most classmates only napped while the bus was traveling to the next attraction. One cozy couple fell in love and fell asleep seated together in the back of the bus.

When they awoke, they both were covered by a mountain of shaving cream. I can't imagine anyone from my noble, rule obeying class of 68 having done such a dastardly deed. “It Happens” when rebels get a late start on their rendezvous with destiny.

Over half a century later, one classmate noted an irony: "I remember going to Florida on our Senior Trip, but I don't remember seeing the ocean." Same here—I don’t remember seeing the ocean either.

Thinking back, I saw something far more prophetic—protected, obedient, rule following classmates being set free. Set free into a world of irony and broken rules. Little did I know then, irony would continue to rule our lives.

Joe Cobb Crawford- Author The Poetry Company From: River of Words: An Anthology, Volume I

PAW’S CORNER by Sam Mazzotta Feral cat colony getting out of hand

PUZZLES4KIDS - by Helene Hovanec

(c) 2019 KING FEATURES SYNDICATE, INC.

DEAR PAW’S CORNER: We have a number of feral cats living in the wooded area behind our house. I know that these cats normally can’t be acclimated to indoor living, but watching their colony expand isn’t desirable, either. So I’d like to get them to a vet and have them spayed or neutered, and either rehome them somehow or release them again.

Any tips on doing this?

-- Sharon in Atlanta DEAR SHARON: The most common and probably most effective way to catch feral cats is to trap them one at a time using a live trap.

They are available at hardware and home-improvement stores, at some pet stores or online.

Before starting, find out if there is a feral cat rescue organization in your area. In Atlanta, the nonprofit LifeLine Animal Project may be able to loan you traps, as well as provide sterilization services.

Otherwise, contact the veterinarian you plan to work with and make sure he or she is OK with treating, spaying and neutering the cats, and find out the prices in advance.

Depending on laws in your area and on who owns the woods behind your property, you may only be able to set the traps on your property. If the feral cats don’t visit regularly, you’ll first need to lure them using food they’re attracted to. When they come around looking for this food, set up the live trap.

Trap, neuter and release (TNR) programs typically release the treated cats back into their home territory, as relocation often doesn’t work. Expect the cats you trap to continue their lives in the woods -with the realization that the colony likely won’t grow over time.

Send your questions or pet care tips to ask@pawscorner.com.

A pet supply boutique providing quality products & full service grooming for cats and dogs in the greater Ellijay community Premium grooming by appointment; walk-ins accepted if schedule allows.

(c) 2019 KING FEATURES SYNDICATE, INC.

SOLUTION ON PAGE 54

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JUST KIDDING A collection of jokes designed to leave you with a smile on your face Q: Why was the baby strawberry crying?

A: Because his mom and dad were in a jam.

Q: What did one toilet say to the other toilet?

A: You look flushed.

Q: Why wouldn’t the shrimp share his treasure?

A: Because he was a little shellfish What do you call a parade of rabbits hopping backwards?

A receding hare-line.

Q: Why did the man put his money in the freezer?

A: He wanted cold hard cash!

Q: Why shouldn’t you write with a broken pencil?

A: Because it’s pointless.

Q: What lights up a soccer stadium?

A: A soccer match Q: Why did the barber win the race?

A: Because he took a short cut.

I asked my North Korean friend how it was there; he said he couldn’t complain.

Two antennas met on a roof, fell in love and got married. The ceremony wasn’t much, but the reception was excellent.

“Deja Moo”: The feeling that you’ve heard this bull before.

Q: Why did Johnny throw the clock out of the window?

A: Because he wanted to see time fly!

Father Henry was planning a wedding at the close of the morning service. After the benediction Father Henry had planned to call the couple down to be married for a brief ceremony before the congregation. For the life of him, he couldn’t think of the names of those who were to be married. ‘Will those wanting to get married please come to the front?’ Father Henry requested. Immediately; nine single ladies, three widows, four widowers, and six single men stepped to the front.

A woman inserted an ad in the classifieds: “Husband wanted.” Next day she received a hundred letters. They all said the same thing: “You can have mine.”

A husband said to his wife,”No, I don’t hate your relatives. In fact, I like your mother-in-law better than I like mine.”

I went to buy some camouflage trousers the other day. But I couldn’t find any.

If you’re still looking for that one person who will change your life take a look in the mirror.

Q: Why did the cookie go to the hospital?

A: Because he felt crummy.

Q: What did the policeman say to his belly button?

A: You’re under a vest!

Marriage is the chief cause of divorce.

Intelligence is like underwear.

It is important that you have it, but not necessary that you show it off.

Just think, if it weren’t for marriage, men would go through life thinking they had no fault at all.

I married Miss Right.

I just didn’t know her first name was Always.

The most effective way to remember your wife’s birthday is to forget it once.

A man said his credit card was stolen but he decided not to report it because the thief was spending less than his wife did.

Email us your favorite joke at bestofnorthgamountains@yahoo.com and we might use it in an upcoming issue.