JAN-A-2
THE LONG, LONG DRIVE ON NEW YEAR’S
EVE FROM MOOREHEAD CITY TO ATLANTA
TO JOIN WITH OLD FRIENDS IN CELEBRATION
OF THE COMING OF 2002 WITH CHAMPAGNE
IN A PARTY CRAWL THROUGH MARIETTA,
NEW YEAR’S DAY IMMERSED IN FOOTBALL
AND GIBBS FAMILIES, STOCKING UP FOR OUR TRIP
AND A SURPRISE SOUTHERN SNOWFALL
Dec. 31, 2001---Jan. 4, 2002
It wasn’t easy. I have made it across the states of North and South Carolina, into Georgia, and around Atlanta to Marietta, which I thought was a half way jaunt, and turned out to be about 600 miles at cruise control speed. But, the Bronco and I, both at advanced ages, never faltered, and the non-stop cruise arrived in time to make it to two New Year’s Eve parties. I could have got confused, in directing myself toward Jacksonville—to discover that it was in North Carolina, or to Augusta, to find out that it was in South Carolina just before the Savannah River that marks the Eastern border of Georgia and not the Southwestern border of the same state on a river where the town of the same name marks the border with Alabama. It was actually the autolocate feature of the Garmin GPS and its internally built in map (as contrasted with the CD with which it is programmable by linking the details from the CD into the hand-held GPS with a program that plugs into the laptop CD reader) that found me going the right way along the long trek through swamps with four-wheel ATV’s from deer hunters with hounds being deployed along the way as I spent the day of New year’s Eve eating miles and listening to audiobooks.
The first party was that hosted by Been and Barbara Bailey, who had known me well in the sweet by and by twenty five years back when I was hustled all around rural Georgia and parts south giving talks to small hospital groups. Been is big in the thespian productions of his church choir and performing arts, so it was a “Show” in which he was giving the emcee’s over-long introductions to his daughter Luisa, singing “I can’t say ‘No’” from Rogers and Hammerstein, his son, Ben, who plays the drums and now plays with computers, and Ben who croons theatric light operas with gowned leading ladies. It was an “at home, with music” performance, which Paul and Betty Gibbs and I attended, before leaving early to go on to a neighborhood party of young marrieds, playing guitars and swilling champagne while watching the last act of New York’s now-canonized Mayor Rudy Giuliani usher in 2002.
NEW YEAR’S DAY:
MELISSA, CHRIS SWARTZ AND KIDS
AND TURKEY FRYING CARIVING AND FOOTBALL
The football disasters of the holidays were the worst bowl defeat ever for Michigan by Tennessee, a blowout of Colorado by Oregon (what championship; team would be called the “Ducks”?—why, that is almost as bad as the “Terps!”) Speaking of the Maryland shelled reptiles, they were blown away by the Gators, and the Bowl games are still going on with a Miami/Nebraska game as far into the New Year on the 3rd of January to bump in to the Super Bowl. I hear it has something to do with money and TV.
Melissa has done well with her kids, Paul and Betty’s grandkids, Blake, Gareth, CJ and Cameron Rose—the first Grand daughter. She is home schooling them in a big house near Paul and Betty’s in the toney area of Marietta. The kids built fires in the back yard dressed in camo, under their enormous and still expanding tree fort. The men of the household stood around discussing important matters—like the temperature of the peanut oil in the turkey fryer—while drinking beer and glancing at the Bowl games.
A VISIT TO THE JOHNSON’S FERRY BAPTIST MEGA-CHURCH
AND THE RARE VISIT OF A SOUTHERN SNOWSTORM
I went to the grocery with BR, and on the way we stopped at the huge JFBC complex, which I had last been in at Christopher’s and Danielle’s wedding. BR was eager to have me see the additions—the full gymnasium, theatre, short-order eatery (the church has a full time chef who had formerly been a cruise line chef.) There are 13 full time ministers, 100 full time paid staff members, and some 8,000 members and it is still growing. They have a very prominent missions program with a promise to spend ten percent of their overall budget on missions—and just that part is over a million dollars. The care ministry will hear of someone who has lost a job and take over his or her mortgage payments. BR introduced me to a few of the folk who are in the missions interest, and I wrote emails to follow-up on a Bruce Steffes in Papua New Guinea (a place high on my “must visit” list) and another who has been active in Kyrgistan (I had just showed Paul that Marco Polo offer for this Turkic Republic)
We made plans to see Ravi, but we were interrupted by a rare event. He is leaving Friday for India and so is rushed, but everything came to a close when both the airport and city of Atlanta got closed own by a rather magic looking six inch snowfall. I took next year’s Christmas pictures of Paul and BR in front of their house transformed by the snow blanket, which can hardly last since it seems too warm for the depth of it all. All schools and day care facilities are closed. I could stay indoors and proof the texts of the Tropical Surgery special edition of Current Problems in Tropical Surgery (due in 24 hours after it was received over a week ago) and make up the shopping lists that will be needed for the Cumberland gang over the weekend and the three-day hunt.
Donald and Kathy are allegedly celebrating their anniversary, while the two children Andrew William (a prince by Donald’s description, subsequent to his experience with) Kacie Elizabeth—a very High Maintenance demanding young lady; “It comes with the X chromosome” explains Donald. They were going to go to Tennessee, but the snowfall may make that less likely. When I had volunteered to come down before the Cumberland hunt, since the option of taking the whole family over there before the hunt was rejected, Kathy said that although Andrew might be manageable, only her mother could take care of Kacie, since she was far more demanding of attention. I still think it would be an ideal retreat to have the kids in the beautiful wilderness retreat of the Cumberland Island setting, and they could enjoy it over the post holiday weekend and then return to Gainesville, a very short drive away, with the hopes that we might even be able to make it a whole family retreat, if I could get Michael, Judy and the twins over, with the option of having Donald and Michael stay for the hunt. I have also had several open opportunities for the combined hunt that I know Donald might particularly enjoy in such places as elk camp in the Rockies or in Alaska with the Elwells. I would still like to carry that out before I am the one who has to be carried out.
So, as I had heard I could not come down during the holiday period, I will have to stay on an additional day at least in order to see the grandkids. There is a long drive ahead of me so that I may have to break that into at least two days return, and George Poehlman is coming to DC for at least one of those days, and then I have learned that the Sept. 11 postponed visit to GRAMEC is now scheduled at Jan. 15—16, all of this before the Jan. 17 legal mater to be attended to and Jan 24—25 York Hospital Grand Rounds and a special visitor thereafter for the weekend that precedes my January 30 takeoff to the Philippines. So my later January schedule is getting a b it crowded, and it is contiguous with the Mindanao trip immediately before the takeoff to Malawi, which returns immediately before the March 10 trip to Havana Cuba. So, this being my only interval before the blitz, I would have the flexibility of the faithful Bronco carrying me and most of the contingency stuff I have loaded into it, and will be on my way AFTER the Cumberland Hunt to see if I can play Grandpa, even if ever so briefly. Paul Gibbs is packing up some stuff, such as his firearms, which will no doubt have to come back with me to Atlanta, since he made a flight reservation from JAX airport and flying with firearms would be a big hassle.
After a lot of planning and suggestions, Chris Swartz and Christopher Gibbs were eager to get to see the Island, and although they cannot hunt without the permits, and they would both have to be working next week, we should carry them down there in the two vehicles. This will give Paul Gibbs the chance to talk with his son Christopher over the long drive and Chris Swartz and I can ride in the Bronco together. This is the same kind of “quality time” for discussion that Craig Schaefer is having with his son David as they drive the GMC truck down from MD through a stop at their still-for-sale house in Myrtle Beach, Pawley’s Island SC, and down to the Fernandino Beach Lucy Ferguson ferry pickup on Sunday morning along with Rich Reinert, Gene Curletti, possibly Gene Moore, unknown Don King and probable Reg Franciose. This would mean that Paul and I and his son and son-in-law would be driving down on Friday with all the groceries we picked up on Thursday, and staying in a motel at Fernandino Beach on Friday night and gong over by the Lucy Ferguson ferry on Saturday morning to set up for the rather complicated logistics for the whole gang gathering.
We went to Costco, and bought more supplies for four days of eight (?) hunters on Cumberland than I had purchased for a similar passel of hungry hunters on the top of Capital Peak in the snowy elk hunt in September for twice as long. We overfilled all the shopping carts and big boxes we could scrounge for well over $500 in foodstock for the hunt supplies at Nancy’s Fancy, but we are not necessarily depending on wild hog pork chops for sustenance—with a full beef tenderloin for the grilling of thick steaks and all the fixings, and enough of the condiments of the “camp fare” to blow Paul Gibbs’ resolution for his diet for the new year.
LOGISTICS AND PHONE TAG IN ARRANGING THE WHO, WHAT,
WHEN, WHERE AND HOW
ON THE WILDERNESS ISLAND VENUE OF
CUMBERLAND THE BEAUTIFUL
It took me most of this week to catch most, but still not all the participants, with cell phone numbers left with each to keep us in touch at rendezvouses which have yet to happen. I finally reached Gene Curletti, who is getting into JAX on Saturday evening, never yet have heard from Reg but have heard that he might be there as soon as Friday night. I did hear from Rich Reinert who is getting an airport motel on Saturday, and Craig and David should be here for the Sunday morning Lucy Ferguson run, for which I phoned Mitt Ferguson to let him know we would be ready with all our cargo on Saturday morning at 9:30 AM and 4 passengers, with the balance of five on Sunday morning with only their hunting gear. I never reached Don King, despite multiple tries, and we have finally sent a fax to inquire about his health. I never got connected with Gene Moore, and have at last heard about a disaster, which I will relay that, for the third strike in three years, he has been prevented from coming at the last minute. I have called and left messages for Christian Elwell whom I could pick up at any point he could get to and drive back with him, but have not heard from him. So, as always, after the required six months careful planning, there is always a different team fielded than the original plans. But, it always turns out to be a wonderful experience, so it will be again!