Overheard, out and about, Mrs. Grundy sees all, tells all

Mrs. C.R. Grundy

Published Saturday, June 27, 2009

Peeping through my Venetian blind, I saw the sun blazing down, boiling the earth.

“My, it’s hot!” I said. “We’re in for at least three months of this! Come on, fall!”

The Covingtons have invited me over for the Glorious Fourth next weekend.

Retired teachers in the county should put July 29 on their calendars. They’re invited that date to be in the Enterprise City School System Service Center on Highway 84 East at 9:00 a.m. for the annual meeting of the Covington County Education Retirees Association with other retired teachers from District IX of the Alabama Education Association – Coffee, Crenshaw, Dale, Geneva, Henry, Houston, Pike counties, and Troy University.

Roland and Betty Carter were the houseguests of Gertrude Nelson this past week. Mr. Carter is Andalusia’s former city clerk. He and his wife now live in Hendersonville, North Carolina, near their daughter Angie and her sons. They often motor back to the “Dimple of Dixie” for a visit, especially when Miss Gertrude stirs up a quart or two of her famous lemonade!

Seen, enjoying the barbecue at Hook’s, were Kim and Eleanor Dyess, their son Steve, and their lovely daughter Sharon.

Irene (Davis) Butler, one of our most active senior citizens, especially in the Pilot Club, was honored recently with two certificates from Debbie Archer, president of Pilot International. One named Mrs. Butler a member of the Emerald Club; the second, from Pilot International Foundation, to membership in the 2500 Club. Accompanying the certificates were engraved charms for both clubs and two gold Pilot pins, one accented with an emerald.

Seen at Perry’s, enjoying the seafood buffet last Saturday, were Katie Wilkes and her sister Ann Grimes of Winter Garden, Fla., here to visit their l02-year-old father. Also seen were Mr. and Mrs. Billy Rathel, Hubert and Rebecca Sullivan, and Robert Lee Holley.

Although I have lived hereabouts for several decades, I have never motored over to Kinston, between Perry Store Community and Opp. I did so last Saturday. Did you know they have a racetrack for automobiles over there?

Dropping by to visit Myrtle Ruth (Everage) Welch on her 98th birthday June l were her nephew Rex Everage of Enterprise and her niece Lillie (Powell) Salsberry of Nashville.

Seen last Sunday – the first day of summer, June 2l – at C.J.’s Grill for lunch were Joy Tway, Jo Mosdell, Charles and Norma Jackson, Robert and Sheila Williams, James and Joann Boswell, Jimmy and Debbie Grimes, Walter and Paula Sue Duebelt, Fletcher and Jean Jones, Miss Karen Jones, John and Amy Jones, Susan (Jones) Short, little Miss Ada Short, Charles and Sandra Grantham, and Thagard and Linda Colvin.

The floral arrangements in First Baptist last Sunday, Father’s Day, honored the late Chris Holley and were placed by his wife, Tammy, and children, Christa, Kaitlin, and Grant.

Fathers in the congregation at First Baptist were asked to stand and be recognized. A Bible was placed through the Gideons organization in honor of each father present.

It was a special Father’s Day for young Peyton Garner, whose parents, Brad and Becky (Spurlin) Garner, and grandparents, Heenan and Amy (Russell) Spurlin, were present to see him baptized by Dr. Fred Karthaus, pastor. What greater Father’s Day gift could a father have than to see his child saved?

I noticed that some repairs are needed on “Old Main,” the l939 main building of the Andalusia High School. I hear that the Annex or “Little Building” is scheduled to be torn down soon. In the building up of new buildings and the tearing down of old, “Old Main” needs to be saved and restored to its glory as was done with East Three-Notch School.

The Portly Gentleman told me that his friend, John Givhan, called from Mt. Pleasant, just over the great Ravenel Bridge from Charleston, to “rub it in” that he and his Martha and their Endsley were having seafood just then on the topmost, outdoor tower of Vickery’s Restaurant in a cool, twilight breeze off Shem Creek, a miniature world of seagulls, porpoises, pelicans, shrimp boats, and restaurants along the creek of that name that runs into Charleston Bay.

The Portly Gentleman, by the way, has just returned from a little trip over to Jekyll Island, Savannah, and Charleston. I had him to tea, along with the Covington girls, Mrs. Gotrocks of Greenville, Miss Purdie Birdie, and Miss Priscilla Primme, to hear about his journey.

“I took 84-East and was at Jekyll Island in about eight hours. The Lord blessed me with an easy and safe drive. The road is four-laned most of the way. I passed through the following locations: Opp, Enterprise (with its boll weevil), Dothan (with its murals by the same fellow that painted ours), Ashford, Pansey, the border between Alabama and Georgia and over the Chattahoochee River (glorified by Sidney Lanier in his poem, “Song of the Chattahoochee”), Jakin, Donalsonville, Iron City, Brinson, Bainbridge (with its new, impressive Bainbridge High School), Climax, Whigham (a lovely, little town), Cairo, Thomasville (with its beautiful main street), Boston, Quitman (a lovely town), Valdosta (a city with a grand courthouse and churches), Homerville (where the former Beverly Davis lives with her family), Argyle, Waycross (a railroad terminal; only two lanes run between Homerville and Waycross), Hoboken, and Waynesville.

“Jekyll Island, now a Georgia state park, lies just off the coast of Brunswick, Georgia. The waters between Brunswick and the island are the “Marshes of Glynn,” made famous by Sidney Lanier, Georgia’s most famous poet, in his poetic masterpiece of that name. Glynn is the county in which Brunswick lies. Brunswick claims to have invented Brunswick stew (camp stew). One can see the original stew pot at its welcome center.

“The historic district of Jekyll Island is my favorite vacation destination. It is as beautiful as the breath of angels. It is a place of quiet grace, charm, beauty, and peace.

“As I approached the Causeway that leads from Brunswick to the Atlantic island, I noticed that the roadsides were strewn with the blooms of wildflowers. To my left was the great Lanier Bridge (named for the poet), stretching up on its cables, which resembled two sky-piercing sails on a gigantic sailboat adrift in a heavenly ocean. It is worth going to Brunswick just to cross this wonder of a bridge.

“In the historic district, once a community of ‘cottages,’ built by vacationing millionaires, I took a room in the ‘Annex,’ a three-story addition to the Queen Anne-style clubhouse, which now serves as a grand hotel. My room was at the end of the third floor and opened onto a small balcony. The ‘Annex,’ built in l90l, featured four large double bays, each serving four rooms.

“That night I ambled down to Latitude 3l, a restaurant built upon the pier where the millionaires used to anchor their yachts. I had a seat by a wall of windows through which I could see Brunswick over the Marshes of Glynn, the great Lanier Bridge, and the setting sun. I enjoyed crab bisque, fried oysters, and shrimp-rice.

“The Grand Dining Room was added to the Club in l9l7, and what an elegant room it is – rectangular, carpeted, recessed ceiling, wainscoting, white, fluted, Corinthian columns, potted palms, white, wooden, plantation shutters, upholstered dining chairs, a mantled fireplace, a look of tropical sun and shade, where the waiters dress better than the guests.

“The tables were laid with stiff, white cloths and matching napkins, vases of pink roses, creamers, butter from decorative molds, toast on separate plates, and miniature jam jars on lace doilies on plates.

“I took breakfast herein two mornings, enjoying a buffet of juices, fruit, bangers, bacon, cereals, potatoes, grits, eggs, waffles, pastries, oatmeal, milk, and coffee.

“After breakfast I rented a bicycle and rode with ease all over the historic district, which is practically flat. (Even a caveman could do it!) There was a gentle breeze as I pedaled over the sidewalks, lined with landscaped lawns and flower beds, under the shade of the many great live-oaks, bearded with Spanish moss, the Marshes of Glynn on one side, the restored ‘cottages’ (each a beautiful house) on the other.

“I thought, ‘This place is a prayer – a whisper.’

“I couldn’t believe all this had survived the past and been so lovingly restored and maintained. It was all too good to be true.

“Stopping at a bench to rest, I took in the cedars, palmettos, live-oaks, and palms between the marshes and me, quiet but for the songs of birds. Above me the resurrection fern was green from recent rains. (Neither this fern nor the Spanish moss cause any harm to the tree, I am told. Both get their nourishment from the air. The fern, which grows along the limbs, looks dead in times of heat but turns green after the next rain.)

“Drawn by the bookstore, I found ‘Little Black Sambo’ and Uncle Remus by Joel Chandler Harris, books not seen too often today because of racial prejudice, which saddens me. ‘Sambo’ has nothing to do with Africa. Sambo was an Indian from India and is set in India. Joel C. Harris, a Georgian child born out of wedlock, knew his share of social prejudice. He grew up, greatly and positively influenced by black culture. He was one of the first to make the black man a star in literature. He promoted the black culture of his day; and the black man owes Harris an unmeasured debt.

“Back at the Club, I sat in a white, wicker rocker on a side porch and read ‘The Marshes of Glynn’ from my book of Lanier, as I usually do each visit to Jekyll. It was a ‘June-day,’ as Lanier wrote, that I was reading what he had written on a ‘June-day.’ He had come to visit his wife, Mary Day, and her relatives in Brunswick when he had been mesmerized by ‘the wide sea-marshes of Glynn.’

“Lanier has been on my mind since I was a boy because of Lanier High School in Montgomery, where I grew up. The school, of course, is named for the Georgia poet, who clerked at the old Exchange Hotel in downtown Montgomery (destroyed). He played the organ at the First Presbyterian Church in Montgomery, too, and taught at an academy in Prattville. He also camped for his health (he died of tuberculosis) at Point Clear, Alabama.

“There is a purple passage in ‘The Marshes of Glynn’ that all Americans should be able to recite. It ends with ‘Oh, like to the greatness of God is the greatness within/ The range of the marshes, the liberal marshes of Glynn.’

“As I rode around that day, I spotted the candy store (familiar to Lenora Johnson), pool, shops, the great Club house with its turret, urns of flowers, miles of paved walks, ancient live-oaks with massive limbs that touch the ground, magnolias, immaculate landscaping, horses and carriages, a croquet lawn, trolleys of tourists, fountains, courtyards, balconies, the sunken garden at Crane Cottage, porches of wicker chairs, birds, the marshes on one side, the Atlantic on the other, and the c-shaped bench near the sunken garden.

“I took lunch in the Grand Dining Room, enjoying a Cobb salad, a bread-and-butter plate with its own knife (a sign of a well-laid table), cloth overlays, and miniature corn muffins. Soft classical music soothed my ears.

“The Georgia branch of the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools happened to be meeting at Jekyll the same days I was there. A member told me that they meet at Jekyll every year. Alabama belongs to an accreditation organization, too.

“Going up to my room, I sat on my balcony in a nice breeze and watched people going by. Overcome by a mischievous spirit, I stood on my balcony and cried out in a Shakespearean voice, ‘Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears!’ Several below heard me and laughed aloud; I laughed, too.

“Downstairs, I lived dangerously and ordered a Shirley Temple from the barkeep in the main lounge. He told me that the stuffed wild boar over the fireplace, ‘Boris the Boar,’ was a replacement from nearby Cumberland Island; the original boar had been larger.

“I think our local Scouts have camped on Cumberland.

“I took a long drive around the island, viewing trails, woods, ruins, homes, the beach along the Atlantic side, a convention center, cottages, motels, restaurants, and a shopping center where I bought a bathing suit of ample proportions.

“Back ‘home’ and after a long swim in the outdoor, Olympic-sized, swimming pool, I ordered for supper a Vanderbilt (fancy name for a Reuben sandwich) at the Café Solterra at one of the covered verandahs of the Club.

“As the day waned, I sat in the lobby and scanned the local paper, The Brunswick News, rocked on a porch and enjoyed the evening breeze and a hummingbird, walked down to the marshes to say ‘Farewell, my Lord Sun’ (a line from Lanier’s poem), took a bicycle out for one last ride, and rocked on the porch and watched two young couples from St. Louis and Cincinnati as they played croquet on the twilight lawn.

“The next morning, after breakfast again in the Grand Dining Room, I headed north to Savannah, which story I hope to tell you soon.”

I thanked the Portly Gentleman for his news; and now, gentle reader, be sure to be in your place of worship this weekend – and next! I may be in Argentina next week or hiking the Appalachian trail, so I may not have time to type up my column. If I don’t have a column in next Saturday, have a happy Fourth of July! Fare thee well!