At any rate, I’m sitting in the coffee establishment, minding my business, sipping a decaf and reading a book on my electronic reader, the Kindle, when the man and woman sat down at the table next to mine. They settled themselves in, talked a bit, drank some coffee, and then leaned over the space to speak to me.
“Do you live in this area?” he asked.
“I do,” I said. I gave them my name and they gave me mine.
“We’re passing through on vacation,” said the woman. “What a quaint little town this is,” she added. Something about her tone and manner gave the impression of condescension. “Jim and I stopped here on Tuesday and have been looking around, sort of sightseeing, you see, but I must admit there’s not a lot of sights to see except for those historical markers about the Civil War. Other than that there’s not much to see around these parts, is there?”
“Actually, there’s quite a bit to see around here. Have you visited Cloudland Canyon?” I gave them a verbal tour of that little depression in the ground up in Dade County. I told them about the wall on top of Fort Mountain just the other side of Chatsworth and threw in, free of charge, my personal opinions on the origin of the wall and how I thought it was of religious significance for the early Native Americans. I told them about the Etowah Mounds and how a few European germs had all but wiped out that civilization. Then I told them about New Echota and the origins of the Trail of Tears.
He interrupted me. “Echota, so that’s how you pronounce it. We drove past there the other day. Just seemed like a bunch of old buildings. Seems to me you folks would have restored it a bit more, if it’s so important. I can’t believe how inadequate that sight is.” He paused and pulled a paper from his pocket. “So with this place being a center of Native Americans at one time, I guess that’s where all these crazy names come from.”
I looked at the paper and told him, “Coo-saw-wad-tee.”
“Weird word,” he said. “How about this one?”
I looked at the paper again, “Ooos-ta-nal-la.”
“Another weird one. How about this one?”
Again I looked. “Con-na-sue-ga.”
“Jeez,” he almost sneered, “you’d think you guys would have renamed the rivers to something you could pronounce when you stole this place from the Indians. I guess that’s because you didn’t have many schools down here back then.”
The color of my face now must have become a bit red. I felt the ire rising inside me. Mama told me to be nice to strangers. I couldn’t think of anything nice to day so I kept quiet. Nevertheless, I’d had enough. Even for a Southern gentleman hospitality has limits. I placed my Kindle in my back pack, wadded my napkin and placed it in the empty cup. I tossed it into the trash receptacle when I left. As I walked past the window I saw them leaving, also. They left their trash on the table. I couldn’t help but wonder if they could pronounce “Reprobate.”
I haven't had much opportunity to get out and mingle since we've moved, but my wife has tried to assist in a cause dear and near to her with the local animal shelter. She as also tried to join other mothers in the area who post meet-ups for play groups. NOT ONE RESPONSE! It would seem that if a shelter needs help, they wouldn't be picky about who showed up. Apparently I am wrong on this count. One would think that mothers wouldn't think twice about accepting a new member into their group, One would be wrong, again. I'm not sure what it is, that separates her from anyone else, save she isn't "from around here." Groups have "closed" or posted a "locals only" disclaimer after she'd requested membership and, quite frankly I am ashamed. I had always told her that the people here were wonderful, and like no one else in the country. I had meant this in a positive light, however she is seeing it completely differently. Perhaps we are not as patient as we should be, or don't see things the way people in Calhoun do. I am sure everyone here isn't inhospitable, but it sure has seemed that way for the past 5 months.
I've spent much of my life over in Floyd county and the difference appears striking. I moved here to care for my father, but was just a bit late, and am now here with only extended family to rely on for support. I had always loved the south and never had a complaint about the people here, however now, Calhoun is different and I don't know if there's even a reason to try to fit in.
A lot of you folks don't even realize what you're doing while you're doing it. You hide behind religion and heritage and think you know it all. God says to love thy neighbor, right....I'm now your neighbor, do you love me? No. Why? Because I'm different. I'm not from the south. I was born and raised in Abe country and MADE A CHOICE to move to GA....for the beauty, not to be judged. Get over yourselves.......and for the record, what does the common GA resident know about the history of IL? Not much I bet, but you want to know what your looking at when driving through the state....and the happy residents there will not be rude to you when you ask questions about the history.
Are we living the American dream here? No not by any means. My husband who has always been the breadwinner of the family is out of work. I am the sole provider for my family. We do not receive foodstamps or TANF, although we would probably qualify. My kids are not on medicaid or PeachCare. I pay for our health insurance with my 24000.00 a year job for a family of five with one kid in college. We don't get to take vacations or go to movies. But the wonderful friends that I have made since moving here almost 11 years ago amazes me. There has been so much support for our family and outpouring of love. Husbands going to school, so I know eventually our financial situation will improve. I'm even in the process of writing the book I've been putting off for years. I love where I live and the people that I have met here. Even though I am not a native, I feel like I am.
Just my thoughts.
Since we want to be fair to everyone, you certainly won't mind if I start putting up pictures of the almighty Flying Spaghetti Monster everywhere ALONGSIDE the Christian cross. Praise to His Noodley Greatness shall be made in schools all over as much as the prayers to the Christian god. The Gospel of the FSM shall be taught as readily as the Bible to all!
What? Don't like what I'm saying? The FSM isn't real?! You can't be serious! He's as real to me than any other deity. How about if I replaced the FSM with Shintoism, Wicca, Hinduism (with all its gods,) Islam, or any the great number of faiths people have and believe in the US?
How about we try and be fair to every child in our schools by keeping FAITH out of their school? It's apparently hard enough to educate them as it is without throwing in the proselytizing and religious indoctrination. Do that in your churches.
And as for all the bashing on homosexual rights, abortion, Hollywood values, yada yada yada.... I'd say your bible belt needs to loosened up so you can think for a change. It seems to be cutting off the circulation to your brain.