I'm baaaaaccccccckkkkkk ....

So nice to be back ... 

After an absence of more than four years, I've decided to resume logging my thoughts and observations via this blog. I was spurred to do this by my son, a second-year student in college. He's in that stage in which he's trying to figure out what he wants to do with his life, and we have had some long discussions about his options, opportunities and future. 

I mentioned to him that his mother and I had seen the movie, "Argo," which chronicles the story of the rescue of six Americans during the 1980-1981 hostage crisis in Iran. I remember that time very well, and I remarked that while different, many things in the middle east have not changed in 30+ years. 

"We haven't learned a goddamned thing," I told him. He replied that I should take my rants and write a blog.

So here I am. 

A lot has changed in the 30 years since the hostage crisis in Iran. Things are a lot more complicated and our reactions/responses are colored in no small part by the events of Sept. 11 2001. 

A lot has also changed in the four years since I last wrote here. Life is a lot more challenging these days, and our country seems divided in ways that it hasn't been since the 1860s. 

 I started writing this blog as a response to local issues and other topics in which I had strong interests and opinions. That hasn't changed, and I look forward to sharing more of the same. 

Stay tuned.

History, Mystery and Stuff That Goes Bump in the Night

When I was a kid, my grandmother lived in an old farmhouse with her two bachelor brothers. The elder of the two, Uncle Charles, delighted in telling us kids that an undertaker had once owned the house, and that someone had killed themselves in one of the front upstairs bedrooms.

The house, which was about 100 years old then, had all sorts of creaks and dark corners – perfect for terrorizing a skittish five year-old. Throw in an electrical storm, with its thunder reverberating through the surrounding hills, and I was a complete basket case. My mother must have loved it.

As a teenager, my bedroom was in the basement at the far end of the house. On nights when I had watched a particularly scary episode of “The Twilight Zone” or “Night Gallery,” I had a special drill for getting safely from one end of the house to the other.

I would turn on all the lights between the stairs and my room. After turning on the lights in my room I would backtrack, turning off the lights between safety and certain peril. Sometimes I’d whistle, just to ward off any malevolent beings that might be lurking behind the water heater.

These days it takes a bit more than a gruesome TV show or movie to give me the Heebie-jeebies. But there are times, when the night is especially dark and the house is especially quiet, that I can–and sometimes do–let my imagination get the best of me.

Truth is, people love a good ghost story. And no matter where you go, there are plenty of stories waiting to be told.
Jenny Strauss has been sharing tales of “the history and mystery” of the Golden Isles for the past six years, during evening ghost tours in the St. Simons Island Village. The tours begin at 9:00, at the foot of the St. Simons Island fishing pier. After a brief welcome and introduction, Jenny leads her groups on a 90-minute journey through the past.

Along the way, she shares the tales that have been handed down through the generations: of the ghost ship that plies the waters of St. Simons Sound, a disagreement that ended in murder, and the young millionaire who built a church as a memorial to his bride. Visitors learn of the Indian village that once occupied a dark and quiet portion of Mallery Park, and of the mysterious spirits that dwell among the crooks and boughs of live oak trees throughout the island.

The legends are mesmerizing, and after awhile you begin to notice sights, sounds and smells you might ignore under different circumstances. “Was that pipe tobacco I smelled in the parlor?” you ask yourself. “Did you see something move through the shadows? Did I hear someone say, ‘Get out of my house’?”

Jenny says that’s not at all unusual. “I wasn’t a believer until I began doing these tours,” she says. “I’m constantly hearing from people who have seen, felt, heard or smelled the things I’ve described. It’s especially interesting when people mention new encounters with ghostly beings.”

Jenny offers two different tours from March through October: the “Ghost Walk” tour and the “Ghost Encounter” tour. The latter includes a stop at the St. Simons Lighthouse and the keeper’s dwelling. “The people at the lighthouse offered to make it available for the tour and I couldn’t pass it up,” she explains. “It has been very, very popular and it adds a really special element to the tour.”

During October, Jenny will offer the “Ghost Encounter” tour on Saturday nights. Tickets are available at St. Simons Island Bait and Tackle on Mallery Street; or they may purchased prior to the beginning of the tour. Jenny also will do private ghost tours for groups of 10 or more. For information, visit www.ghostwalkofstsimons.com or call Jenny at 638-2756.

September 11

It has been a long time since I've posted anything here. 

Not that there hasn't been lots of interesting stuff going on; more about that later -- especially the ongoing saga of the downtown jail that doesn't want to move and the County Commissioners who refuse to budge.

Rather, I want to acknowledge the anniversary of those terrible events that took place seven years ago in New York, Washington DC and Pennsylvania. 

It was a beautiful fall day here on the Georgia coast, just as it was elsewhere along the eastern seaboard. As I began my day, preparing for a meeting, there was no inkling of the tragedy that was yet to come. 

The scenes on television, of the first jet crashing into the World Trade Center, were unbelievable. Subsequent scenes of the second, third and then fourth crashes were inconceivable, as were the images of the towers' collapse. "When will it end?" I asked myself. "Is this the end?"

Suddenly, my problems became insignificant. I was afraid, for my family and friends and for mankind as a whole. The world seemed to become a quieter place, albeit a lot scarier. I was on hyper-alert during the drive home. I began to notice others, especially those who were different. Anything that seemed even remotely out of the ordinary became suspect.

It was a long time before things started to feel "normal" again. A long time before I would even consider getting on a commercial jet, a long time before I could watch the movie about those brave souls aboard Flight 93. A long time before I could look at people from the Middle East and not wonder ...

It's hard to believe it's been seven years. I learned a lot from the events of September 11, about myself, what's important and what's not. Many other tragedies have befallen us since then.

Innumerable words will be said, thoughts expressed and prayers offered today. Most will be far more eloquent than anything I could come up with.

The Rev. Kerry Nelson is pastor of Covenant Lutheran Church in Houston, TX. He writes a daily devotion that more often than not hits me right where I live. Today's devotion is no exception. You can read it here.

All I can say is, Thank God for heroes, for life, love and amazing, amazing grace.