Atlanta, Georgia

Cat, June and Erin in front of Shear Love, where Carla (Cat's oldest daughter) works

Erin and I have been here in Atlanta a week now. Lordy, how time flies. Cat's hubby, Dr. Dave (formerly, Dr. Detroit), just happened to be in Iceland this week, so Cat -- who is recovering from foot surgery -- has welcomed the company. (David's been working with the Decode project, and helped isolate the gene for RLS, or Restless Leg Syndrome -- not too shabby.) Erin and I were here two days and then I drove to Charlotte to pick June up and bring her back to Atlanta, so we could all have some quality hang-time together. June is recuperating from a recent surgery herself and her spirits are remarkably high. All in all, it's been fantastic to see my two Southern Sisters.

Cat, June and Erin

Cat, Carla and June

Cat has been very involved with Unity in Atlanta

Even though we're down south here, we can already start to feel the first inklings of Autumn. It's been cool in the mornings and whenever the wind blows hard, leaves are beginning to fall off the trees. I feel myself starting to prepare mentally for this, our last leg of the trip. Our tentative itinerary is as follows: dropping June off in Charlotte, the Outer Banks in North Carolina, the Smoky Mountains and Skyline Drive in Virginia, a brief visit to D.C., a brief visit to see my step-dad, Ed, in Baltimore, Cape May, N.J., the Jersey coast, visiting friends in New York City, up to Vermont and Maine for the Fall colors (with numerous stops throughout the region) and then the 3,200 mile ride home, stopping in Niagara Falls, Chicago and Boulder, Colorado on the way. . . . Makes me tired just to write that.


But for now I'm just chilling with my sisters. So a few images of the city and the road to wrap this post up:

Amicalola Falls

Jesus, I Trust In You

   "Buy Her A Diamond, Get A Free Hunting Rifle" -- we're not in Oregon anymore

Some serious Southern Bar-B-Q at Col. Poole's Pig Hill of Fame (Liberals, check your politics at the door)

Col. Poole's mascot

Promenade II building in downtown Atlanta

Art Deco architectural detail on Plaza Theater on Ponce De Leon Avenue

The ladies at Amicalola State Park Lodge

The beginning of the Appalachian Trail -- we'll be at the end in Maine in about another month.

Heading Down South

Driving through the cornfields of Southern Illinois under Buddha power

After a month-long hiatus in Chicago, Erin and I loaded up the Matrix and headed down Highway #57, which is a well-worn passage for several generations of Pages traveling between Southern Illinois and Chicago. Most of my family going back three generations come from Illinois farm and mining country in and around Benton, Mount Vernon and Decatur, Illinois, with previous generations reaching back well south of the Mason-Dixon Line. My dad was raised partially in Chicago, where his father moved seeking employment in the 30s, and in and around Benton, so he's always felt a strong pull down I#57, even as he made quite a name for himself as a successful architect in the tony lakeside suburbs of Chicago. So it feels incredibly familiar to me to point my front bumper south, leaving Chicago to shrink in my rear-view mirror, and cruise down through some very flat, although beautiful, farm country.

On the road to Benton you see a lot of barns . . .

. . . and cornfields . . .

. . . and even the famous 200-foot tall Effingham Cross!

We stopped in Benton, Illinois, which once contained numerous Pages (and Webbs, on the maternal side) and still has a lot of memories for me, far too many to list here. As far as I know, Benton has only three claims-to-fame: the actor John Malkovich grew up here; in 1926, Benton was the site of the last known public hanging in Illinois (a minor gangster called Charles Birger); and George Harrison stayed here for two weeks while visiting his sister in 1963. At the time the Beatles were already huge in Europe, but they hadn't yet broken into the American market. While visiting, George sat in with a local group "The Four Vests, and was prophetically told by a local that with the right back-up band, he could make it big. The house at 113 McCann Street, which is still standing, used to be The Hard Day's Night B and B and there's an interesting documentary called "A Beatle in Benton, Illinois" (which you can watch on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4kF0dnVRBCg).

The documentary about George Harrison's visit

Kristen, June, Cat and Jeff in front of the Dinger's house back in the early seventies

Visiting the Page family cemetery back in the early nineties

My last living relative in Benton was my step-grandfather, Ding, who, in that colorful southern tradition, also happened to be a not-to-distant blood relative of the Pages. He acquired the nickname "Ding" as a child (nicknaming, another colorful tradition of the south) because he apparently was a real "humdinger" and growing up I referred to him not as "grandpa," but as "Ding." I was sitting at his bedside in Benton and holding his hand when he drew his last breath twelve years ago and with his passing came an end to a lifetime of visiting my (living) family elders in this little town -- I'll visit their graves for the rest of my life.

[Okay, I can't help myself . . . just one quick Ding story: For several years towards the end of his life, I'd pick Ding up in Benton on my way from Chicago to my sister, Cat's, house down in Atlanta for Thanksgiving. As he was in his eighties, he was too old to drive the distance himself and there isn't an airport anywhere near Benton. So this one year in particular, I had spent the night at Ding's house and we woke up early the next morning to try and get to Atlanta in time for dinner. I managed to get him loaded up in the car in a timely fashion -- maybe pushing him a bit too fast -- and once on the road, we decided to put a few hours on the road before breakfast. Eventually, we pulled over to a Waffle Hut (one of Ding's favorite eateries), ordered and when the waffles came, I dove in. After a few minutes, I noticed that grandpa wasn't eating and when I asked him why, he shot me a wide, toothless grin and said sheepishly, "I forgot my teeth." Of course I couldn't deliver the Dinger to Atlanta for a large Thanksgiving family dinner sans teeth, so I turned around and drove him back home to pick up his chompers and we arrived in Atlanta late that night, but at least with a great story.]

A few random road pictures:

Romney and Obama in The Claw Game at the Steak and Shake.

"Excuse me, I believe I ordered the LARGE sweet tea."

Benton, Mayberry of my youth, isn't quite what it used to be