Oh my, is it the end of the year already? Even more oh my—it’s the end of the decade?
I say good riddance to this first decade of the new millennium or whatever we’re calling it these days. It’s had problems.
I’ve been reviewing my year in travel—I didn’t do as much as I would have liked, this darn economy. Still, I had a few really great trips. The Finger Lakes region of New York, where I learned about my foremothers in feminism. That was an eye opener. I had a swell visit to Nashville and particularly enjoyed my eight bajillionth, and eight bajillionth–and-one (yeah, I went twice in one week) visits to the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum. I spent most of my time in the new galleries covering the years I was immersed in country music, from the 1970s (I was an Urban Cowboy-era convert, and I’ll watch that movie any time) through the 1980s.
But if I had to name the one trip in 2010 that was the biggest revelation for me, it had to be the week I spent in Georgia—first in Savannah, then touring Coweta and LaGrange Troup counties, outside Atlanta.
I’d never given Georgia a whole lot of thought, really—for no particular reason, it just never really penetrated my consciousness. But even though I barely tasted the state in my short visit, the sense of history and culture hit me like a frying pan in the face. In a way, it reminds me of Texas in its deep pride, its colorful and complicated history, and its eccentricities. And it’s women–tough cookies, like Texas women.
A few images from the trip, as a little year ender. Happy New Year, Flyover Americans. See you on the other side.
Newnan, Georgia welcomes travel writers to town.
Oh, Savannah. Full of beauty and intrigue.
Flannery O'Connor's childhood bedroom, Savannah.
Dunaway Gardens, a great story in itself. I'll tell you about it sometime.
Hills & Dales, the life work of a very hardworking woman.
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