Two Women

They stood near the cleaning products in the Dollar Store,
the day before Super Tuesday, discussing the candidates.

"Not a woman," the older one was saying, "women don't
belong in a place like that. It ain't right!" She looked to be
about 60, but could have been younger, her face care-worn
beneath dyed black hair. "And that's not just me saying it,
that's what God says," and she rolled out the word "God" in a
loud, commanding voice.

"But the other one.." the younger woman began, lifting her
hands from her shopping cart to spread them in a helpless
gesture. She was about half the other woman's age, short
and overweight, her slacks bunched around her heavy
thighs, but her face attractive under skillfully applied makeup.

The older woman interrupted, her voice trembling with
emotion: "Oh, I pray to God he don't get in!"

Then they were speaking with lowered voices so I
couldn't hear the words, but I guessed they were
discussing the dilemma of race and gender, but possibly
in less kindly terms. Their mission was the same as mine,
to stretch their few dollars by buying some basic supplies
where prices are a bit lower than those in the
supermarkets.

Maybe they voted for Mike Huckaby, he carried our
county and won the state of Georgia. A lot of voters
found him comfortable, non-threatening. But Hilary
Clinton captured the county for the Democrats;
Obama won the state.

A woman and a Black man running for the highest
office in the land, and both getting a large number
of votes. Unthinkable only a few years ago. Obama
rings out the message of a need for change- our world
has already changed and is changing. The winds of
change have been more like a hurricane, blowing those
who refuse to accept change into the corners of life and
eventually into the dustbins of history.

Climate Change?

Oh, they tell me of a land where no storm clouds rise,
Oh, they tell me of a land far away,
Oh, they tell me of an unclouded day

This song kept running through my mind recently.
Somebody's idea of heaven. Whoever wrote it never
spent much time in North Georgia during the summer.
August heat is blasting us already, even before
summer has officially begun. Atlanta registered a
record-breaking 98 degrees last Monday. Low to mid-
90's here everyday, and I went out and bought a fan.

What a relief when the storm clouds rose. Lots of
lightning slashing the humid air and crashing thunder.
The water in the creek had been receding, evaporated by
the heat, and I had been carrying water to my tomato and
pepper plants every evening, only to see the plants
beginning to wilt the next day, the earth around them
like dust.

The break didn't last long. Next day muddy water filled
the creek, rolling on toward the Chattooga River, but the
sun blazed forth hot as ever. Another forecast rain supposed
to bring the temperature down ten degrees failed to
materialize. We had the lightning and thunder- a sound and
fury that signified nothing- but only a sprinkle here.
Now we're hearing that it will be 105 to 110 when summer
actually arrives.

And only a couple months ago I was growing impatient with
sweaters and jackets and longing for the time when I could
run outside barefoot.

I should have listened to those older and wiser folks who
used to say: "Be careful what you wish for."
Be careful- for it might come true.

Dixie Highway Yard Sale

The third annual ninety-mile Dixie Highway Yard Sale will
be held June 6-8, it's always the first weekend in June.

Beginning on Highway 41 at Ringgold, Georgia, it
meanders south, ending at Marietta. Some of the
town names south of Ringgold:

Tunnel Hill
Rocky Face
Resaca
Kennesaw

will be familiar to Civil War buffs, they are also the names
of battlefields. Most of the vendors are located along 41,
which used to be the major north-south highway. When I
moved to Chicago in 1963, that was the route I took. It
went through every city and required a sharp eye to keep
up with all the twists and sharp turns.

Those were the days of mom-and-pop motor courts, long,
low buildings of stucco or concrete every few miles. The
rooms were small and spartan, the baths tiny, just
functional. But a room for the night cost only $5 to $15.

41 through Dalton, as we drove through North Georgia,
used to be called bedspread alley. Clothes lines hung with
chenille bedspreads lined both sides of the road. It was also
called candlewick and started there as a cottage industry
with the colored tufting done by hand. The invention of
tufting machines enabled the change to a major town
industry. The bedspreads had colorful patterns, a
favorite was the peacock.

They also had housecoats. I had one once. The cloth was
thin with little warmth between the rows of tufting. It
wasn't very good for getting up on cold winter mornings
to build fires.

I've been told that chenille items bring a good price now
as vintage clothing and spreads.

Someday I'm going to drive 41 north again as far as I can
go. A friend visiting me a few years ago did this. She
got discouraged after being cut off too many times and
went back on the interstate. The interstate was just being
built when we were driving back south during the 1970's.
Much of 41 was two-lane and even the four-lane sections
were slowed by traffic lights, so it was a luxury when we
hit a stretch of completed I-69 or I-24, but it was always
back to 41 again.

The yard sale vendors will be set up along 41 and 293, a
map will be available to show the various turns. The route
will take us through the main streets of the towns, just as
folks used to have to travel. Sounds like only one thing is
lacking: the Burma Shave signs.

More information about the yard sale here.