A Little Slice of West Virginia

Have you ever wandered into a place and been suddenly transported backward in time? Well, I just did.

Last fall, our little Lilburn News ran an article about the Old Tucker Fountain. It mentioned Sunday brunch with live jazz and Sunday evenings with barbecue and bluegrass.

A couple of weeks ago, I finally dragged Carl over there for brunch. It was so small and nondescript that we missed it the first time around. When we opened the door, we were suddenly transported back to West Virginia sometime in the 1950s. Patsy Cline was on the jukebox; there were two tiny booths in the front window, a counter along the left side, a row of chrome dinette sets down the middle, and a small stage at the end.

We were there at 11:00 a.m. but, as it turns out, no one comes that early. Nothing was ready except the coffee. The food was so-so when it finally arrived, the jazz musicians finally wandered in, and they were good. We promised J.R. we'd go back for their barbecue and bluegrass after he said he cooks the barbecue for 12 hours, adding a log to the fire every hour. We kept our promise last Sunday evening, taking Scott and Greg along.

When we hesitated at the door, one of the patrons called out, "Come on in and find a seat; once you're in, you're in!" Another reached over and introduced himself to Carl with a handshake when we sat down. This is not the kind of welcome one usually finds in restaurants anywhere near Atlanta, Georgia, to say the least. Suddenly we had gone back home.

The bluegrass band was playing and they were great! Songs like Old Joe Clark, I Saw the Light, and Wildwood Flower took me right back to my childhood in Leon where I could hear my dad and grandpa playing the same songs on their harmonicas and singing while they worked.

A large black man with dreadlocks wandered in with his trumpet, stood against the wall, and began playing along. The band gave him the lead and he got a big hand as he wandered back out after a song or two while one of the band members exclaimed, "That may be a first, folks - bluegrass with a trumpet!"

As it turns out, the band plays for an hour and then anyone can take the stage. There was no shortage of musicians. They took up right where the band left off - in fact some of the band members stayed and played on. These people play simply for the love of music and it shows. Singing along was encouraged.....and I did, loudly, much to Greg's surprise, I think. After all, I knew the words and I can carry a tune. There's no way I was going to miss an opportunity like this!

I can't wait to go back and take some of our friends - especially Carl's newly found cousin whose roots are in West Virginia but who has never lived there. She's gonna' love it!

It was almost heaven. West Virginians will understand this.

How Not to Begin a Road Trip

MY SON, MY HERO, THE FIXER OF EVERYTHING

Let it be said right up front that, except for a very short visit to North Carolina, I have not been out of Georgia for several years. Let it also be said that, although I enjoy many things about living in Georgia, I do not wish to spend the rest of my days looking at only the local Georgia sights; however, one does what one must when a family member’s health is at stake.

So it was with a great deal of excitement that I recently found myself planning a trip with Carl’s cousin while Carl was to stay at home under the watchful eyes of Scott, Greg, and the neighbors. The purpose of the trip was to try to convince a gentleman I’d never met to give up a DNA sample to solve a long-standing Atkins family mystery.

Cousin Pat would be dropped off shortly after noon on a Saturday, we would spend the night with my friends, Karen and Rick, in North Carolina, proceed on our way, and drive back home on the following Thursday.

I decided to pack the car and back it into the driveway in order to make a fast getaway when Pat arrived. All was well until I backed out and heard an ominous CRUNCH. I pulled forward, got out of the car, looked around, saw nothing out of the ordinary, and backed out again. CRUNCH. I pulled forward again, walked all around the car this time and realized I had attempted to go through the garage door with the back car door open. Twice. There was no way that car door was going to shut and neither was the garage door. Meanwhile, Pat called to say she was ten minutes away.

What to do?????

First I reluctantly told Carl. Let’s just say my news did not get a warm reception.

Second I called Scott who said he would be right over. He came and decided he would be able to fix the garage door and make the car door close if he had the right tools so off to his house he went.

Pat and her husband arrived to find Carl in a very unforgiving mood.

Scott came back with his tools. I decided we would take the other car because we didn’t have time to wait for Scott’s repair if we wanted to make it to North Carolina before dark. We took everything out of Car #1 and put it into Car #2. Carl reminded me I would have to gas up............if I could manage to miss the gas pumps.

Just as we got Car #2 loaded, Scott announced that the door was closed and all he had to do was apply some “NASCAR tape” so we wouldn’t be annoyed by wind whistle while on the trip. That’s my son - trying to introduce a little humor into this touchy situation. He proceeded to tape the window. His intended humor fell on deaf ears.

I then decided to take Car #1 after all because it doesn’t use premium gas and I wouldn’t have to bother to gas up before North Carolina (while managing to miss the gas pumps). Pat’s husband patiently took everything out of one trunk and reloaded it into the other while Carl wondered aloud if any of us had ever watched “The Three Stooges.”

Off we went with no further mishaps. When we were approximately half an hour from our North Carolina destination, Pat observed that our overhead lights were on. I said Scott probably turned them on while he was messing with the car and I would turn them off when we arrived rather than fooling with them while driving.

We arrived as planned, got a warm welcome with lots of hugs, and then I discovered THE OVERHEAD LIGHTS WOULD NOT GO OUT. After reading the manual which was no help at all, and pushing every imaginable button with no results, Rick finally got the lights to go out. What a relief!

Dinner was lovely and so was our visit. At 11:30 p.m. we decided we’d better call it a day so we went out to retrieve our luggage. The overhead lights came back on and this time it was apparent they were on to stay. Rick’s suggestion was to get up every two hours and run the engine for awhile in order to keep the battery from going dead. Since I couldn't imagine doing that for one night, not to mention several days and nights, I bit the bullet and called Carl. He said the only solution was to disconnect the negative battery cable every time we stopped the car - except for short stops.

Here is where I must admit I have never opened the hood of a car and Rick was familiar with only Chevrolets. Half an hour later, the hood was open, Rick had found a perfect small wrench, and disconnected the battery cable, promising to lend me the wrench and give me lessons before we proceeded on our way in the morning. Karen provided us with a piece of cardboard to put between the cable and the battery to keep the two from inadvertently touching. After our morning lesson, I was in charge of unhooking and rehooking. Pat was in charge of cardboard. Thus prepared, off we went.

By the end of our trip, I became an expert at hood opening and battery cables and Pat became an expert at inserting cardboard. We made quite a team. She would also be an expert at hood opening and battery cables if I had allowed her to practice. Maybe next time.

The good news is that Carl missed me so much after a couple of days that he got his good nature back. The better news is that Scott fixed the garage door before he went home the first night and he & Greg recommended replacing the car door with one from the junk yard since both of them are experts at car restoration. In all honesty, this may have been part of the reason Carl’s good nature came back. The even better news is that Scott fixed the overhead lights the day after I returned home and he has now replaced the car door.

And the best news of all is that Pat and I managed to convince a very nice gentleman to give two relative strangers a sample of his DNA although he was extremely reluctant to do so in the beginning. And I am really hoping this stranger proves to be a relative. Mission accomplished!

But that’s another story.