South By East

SOUTH BY EAST

This is my first entry into the blogosphere with an offering which I will call “South By East” and will detail my life and times in the American South.  The title arises from my move away from Colorado and the Rocky Mountain West back to my family in the South.  The American South generally refers to the states south of the Pennsylvania state line and the Ohio River.  The bulk of them lies east of the Mississippi River as well with the exception of Arkansas, Louisiana and Texas. Most of them seceded from the United States in 1860-61, actions which brought on the Civil War from 1861 to 1865.  They formed a block called the Confederate States of America but were at last utterly defeated and re-assimilated. 

The Confederacy was composed of eleven states, all of which sanctioned and promoted black slavery.  But not all slave-holding states joined the rebellion.  Delaware, Kentucky, Maryland, and Missouri all remained in the Union.  Of these four, Kentucky and Maryland are considered genuine Southern states.  We must include West Virginia as a Southern state as well because it was once part of Virginia but declared its independence and was admitted to the Union while the Civil War still raged.  I give this synopsis for my readers who are not Americans and so may be unfamiliar with this aspect of American history.

The term “Deep South” mostly refers to the states of Alabama, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana and Mississippi.  Those are the states where Southern culture is most pronounced and celebrated.  Most families with any roots in the South refer to the region as “home” no matter how long they have lived elsewhere.  I hope this blog will help its readers appreciate the reasons for that sentiment.  Sunday, 1 April 2012, was my first full day “down home”.

There are so many variances between the South and the Rocky Mountain West that it is difficult to decide how to start discussing them.  Comparison and contrast will feature prominently in my writings.  But I do not intend to do so in a way that will make it seem that one place is superior to the other.  There are different features to both regions and I want to detail them for my readers.  Some of the observations will be on the history, culture and geography that I will explore.  Others will focus on demographics, climate, botany and zoology that I will see.  Photography will be an important component of the blog as well because I want my readers to see what the South is like and to learn to appreciate it for itself.

So I will start with my return to Birmingham, Alabama by way of Atlanta, Georgia from Denver, Colorado.  The morning I left Colorado was a clear and cloudless one, the end of the driest March in Denver’s history.  Not only was the state suffering from a drought, but it was accompanied by unseasonably warm temperatures which had prompted many trees to flower and leaf six weeks early.  In addition, a big fire had broken out on Denver’s southwest side that had consumed more than 4,000 acres/1,600 hectares, destroyed or damaged nearly thirty homes, and killed two people. 

I flew over the brown and parched Colorado landscape on a southeastern rumb line to Atlanta.  The Rockies towered over the dry grasslands but they weren’t wearing the snowy mantle one would have expected for the end of March.  The snowpack was far from being heavy and unless conditions change this portends a bad fire season for the coming summer.  But that is something that will no longer directly impact me, and my touchdown in Atlanta soon gave abundant evidence of this.

My arrival in Georgia put me in a landscape that was completely in the embrace of Spring.  Green grass, fully leafed trees, profuse flowers and blooms, and abundant moisture on the ground and in the air showed that the South was as lush and fertile as ever.  I had forgotten what a real Spring looked like but this beautiful Georgia afternoon was a wonderful way to get reacquainted with it.

Then there was the drive down with my brother and one of my nephews to Birmingham, Alabama which displayed more vernal bounty.  Dogwood trees, called “the bride of Spring” by many, were arrayed in showy white blooms.  Azaleas had blossomed, and the medians of the highways were festooned with two of my favorite southern flowers:  red clover and primrose.  The woodlands were a bewildering collection of deciduous and coniferous trees and I recalled the fact that both Georgia and Alabama contain more tree species than grow in all of Europe.  Indeed, more than one hundred different kinds of trees grow in Alabama alone and that number includes twenty-two different oak species!

We drove southwest, but not toward snow-capped mountains.  Instead the landscape was covered with flowers, forests, watercourses and the last heights of the Appalachian Mountains, the range that runs out of northeast Alabama all the way to Quebec’s Gaspé Peninsula, more than 3,000 miles/5,000 kilometers, and is the dominant mountain system in eastern North America.  The explorer in me rejoiced as I thought of all the possibilities that lay before me if I would only reach out and embrace them.

But the drive to Birmingham involved exploration of another sort.  I was getting to know my brother again.  We have always been close and loved each other, but six years had passed since our last meeting and that was a brief one in Colorado.  Those six years had made me almost unrecognizable to him because I had lost some 60 pounds/27 kilos in that time.  So he walked right past me in the airport the first time he saw me, but then realized his error and called out to me.  That was somewhat amusing.  As for my nephew, he is the younger of Joe’s two sons and doesn’t know his Uncle Raymond at all except by name.   He was only five years old the last time I saw him and an infant before that.   John Raymond—named after my youngest brother, my father and me—gave cautious answers to my questions and slept through much of the two-hour drive.  Nevertheless, we established a connection that I fully intend to strengthen in the months and years that lie ahead.  After all, he is part of the newest generation in my family and one of many reasons I have returned to the South.

We reached Birmingham without incident.  There had been changes in the eight years since my last visit, but many of the old landmarks were still in place.  My mother’s house is showing its age now, especially since she can no longer really care for it.  Still, I was very happy to see it again.  Roses were already in bloom and the front yard had plenty of sweet clover, wild pinks and buttercups growing in it.  There is no way any of these flowers would be already blossoming back in Colorado.  The elm trees had fully leafed out and the pecan tree in the back yard had done so as well.

To say that my mother was overjoyed to see me would be putting it very mildly.  Her welcome was proof that I had never stopped being her child and that she had missed me terribly.  At the same time, I realized that she is now an old woman and needs as much care and attention as I can give to her.  She can no longer walk unassisted and suffers from different aches and pains.  I had to remind myself this was the same woman who had been physically active and vibrant not too many years earlier.  Her grandchildren had no idea she had once been as young and vigorous as they.  It would appear that my return could not have been timelier and that caring for an aged parent was now going to be a very important job.

My brother and nephew stayed for a couple of hours or so and then drove back to Atlanta.  After they left, my mother and I stayed up a long time talking.  She was simply bubbling over with gratitude, thanking God that I had come home.  For my part, I now understand that my stay here will be an indefinite one.  I owe that much to my family and to me.

Sunday April first was spent in meeting family and neighbors.  Although more than thirty years had passed since I moved to Colorado, my welcome was very warm and enthusiastic.  Indeed, I haven’t been hugged and kissed so much since I was a small boy.  Most of the people I knew from decades ago were grayer and a little slower.  Then there were new family members to meet:  a niece and nephew who had never known me; cousins once- or twice-removed; children, grandchildren and even great-grandchildren of various relatives and neighbors; also cousins whose names I knew but had never personally met as well as reacquainting myself with the old neighborhood.

Some folk had passed away during the intervening years.  Only one of my uncles is still living, but he has reached the ripe old age of ninety-nine.  Another aunt will turn ninety-three this year but is now in the grip of Alzheimer’s disease.  She looked at me with a vacant, far-away look in her eyes when her son told her who I was.  She can no longer recognize or remember me.  All I could do was embrace and kiss her and be content she let me do that.  That was a very sad moment especially when I remembered the vigorous woman she once was.

So I am back in Dixie with new experiences awaiting me.  Colorado is now in the past and Alabama is my present and future.  I am determined to make the most of my life here and take full advantage of the opportunities it will offer.  I want to share that life with you because I believe good things are waiting.  I plan to range throughout the East, not just the states in the Deep South, armed with my computer, camera, and a burning desire to soak it all in.  I hope you will enjoy these journeys with me.