Mission de Nombre do Dios ~ St Augustine, FL

The Great Cross at the Mission.

Just outside the busiest part of St Augustine lies one of its greatest treasures and one of my favorite places to explore its secrets. The beautiful Mission de Nombre de Dios (Name of God) is a quiet and restful place to come and restore peace to a weary soul. It is usually the first place I visit when I arrive in the city, and the last place I visit as I leave.

Archaeological evidence tells us this, as close as can be determined, is the possible landing site of Pedro Menendez de Aviles – founder of St Augustine. Here, on September 8, 1565, Francisco Lopez de Mendoza Grajales led Menendez and his men in a service of thanks to God as they knelt at a hastily-built rustic altar. The Indians who occupied the village on the site watched in fascination, and imitated the strangers and their “odd” practices; they had never seen or participated in a European religious worship service before.

Enter the Mission grounds by way of an arched bridge over a tranquil lake, and begin your visit in the shadow of the Great Cross. Be sure to pause on the bridge and watch for a fish or two to jump; they do, quite frequently.

Stop and visit the statue of Francisco Lopez as you leave the bridge. It is a beautiful work of art. Immortalized by Dr Ivan Mestrovic, the minister seems almost to breathe as he stands with arms raised and face turned to the heavens in gratitude to God for a safe arrival in a new, strange land. I love this statue; it always gives me goosebumps when I visit it. I am in awe of Dr Mestrovic’s ability to portray something so monumentous, so perfectly.

The Great Cross stands 208 feet tall and was erected in honor of the Mission’s 400th Anniversary in 1965. You probably saw it when you first entered St Augustine; it is visible for quite a distance and is particularly beautiful at night, when it is lighted. A reader shared a very special memory of Mission de Nombre De Dios with me…

“As a child, I was part of the religious procession and dedication ceremony for the cross at the shrine, it is a great memory for me. Our parish priest told me that day that as a native of Florida, the fort and the shrine belonged to me. It made me feel very special.
~ Sheila L, Gainesville, FL

The chapel.

The Mission site has served as a place of worship ever since that first Mass. A slow walk through the beautifully landscaped grounds among gravestones and monuments and places of reflection leads to the Shrine of Our Lady of la Leche; the first shrine in the United States dedicated to Mary, mother of Jesus. The tiny chapel dates from sometime in the 1700′s; the present chapel was reconstructed in 1914 of coquina, replacing the one before it and the one before that. This pretty chapel, now almost covered with ivy, looks as though it grew there. I love nice days when the windows are opened and breezes drift through the little building. I especially love the way it smells… it just smells clean and dry, like old churches do!

Take a few more moments and explore the rest of the grounds. Squirrels and birds will follow you around, hoping for a handout, as you discover the gazebo, bell tower, fountain, old gravestones and other interesting things scattered here and there. When you are ready to visit the Mission gift shop, follow the pathways to yet another of St Augustine’s wonderful secrets!

The outer casket of Pedro Menendez de Aviles, and the Menendez portrait by Mark Menendez.

The “Menendez Room” in the Mission gift shop houses another great treasure: the outer coffin in which Pedro Menedez de Aviles was originally buried. This coffin was presented to the Mission by the city of Aviles, Spain, and is on display, along with a large diorama depicting the first mass held at the site. An extraordinary portrait of Pedro Menendez hangs in the room, above the outer coffin. The portrait was painted by one of Don Pedro’s descendants; the gifted and talented artist Mark Menendez of Andrews, North Carolina. I had the pleasure of making contact with Mark, who is a warm and delightful person. Please check out Mark’s art at Menendez Art Studio.

The Midway Museum

I love Hwy 17. Almost every inch of Hwy 17, the Coastal Highway between Savannah and St Marys, is loaded with some kind of story, some part of Georgia’s history. Needless to say, for me a day spent on GA Hwy 17 is like a day at an amusement park for an energetic kid. When I see something interesting (gee, I wonder how often THAT happens!?) I have to stop and check it out. I meet the most intriguing people and places that way.

The Midway Museum

So when I saw the friendly little structure with a sign out front announcing it was The Midway Museum, well of course I had to stop. Seriously – if you saw a sweet cottage like this with a sign that said you could go inside and see it, you’d stop too. The small house beckons with its wide and welcoming staircase, broad porch, and heavy doors. Built specifically as a museum and to represent a typical Georgia coastal home, the building houses the vestiges of a community that travelled hundreds of miles to find a place where it could set roots, grow, flourish, and stay.

Thus began my obsession with Midway. There is so much hidden history there! I did not know until I found the Midway Museum that this tiny settlement produced families and men who would shape not only the history of Georgia but that of the entire United States!

At Georgia’s Second Provincial Congress in 1775, (held at Peter Tondee’s tavern in Savannah on July 4) eleven of the attendees were residents of Midway. Another Midway resident, Dr Lyman Hall, was one of two delegates elected to the Continental Congress which would meet in September of that year.

Now, this tidbit of information may seem a little ho-hum but when you actually visit Midway and see how small it is and realize how few families actually lived there in 1775, the impact of just how significant this little town is really hits. For all that it is not much more than a blink in the road, this community has produced men who served their country and their fellow men, and helped shape a world.

For instance, did you know these men were from Midway?…

Monument honoring General James Screven and Brigadier General Daniel Stewart. Located in the old cemetery across the street.

- General James Screven, Revolutionary War general. He slowed the British troops by arranging for a leak that provided false information.

- Brigadier General Daniel Stewart, recognized for his outstanding efforts in both the American Revolution and the War of 1812. Great-grandfather of President Theodore Roosevelt.

- Nathan Brownson, a physician and governor of Georgia. His was the task of rebuilding a weary and wounded colony after the Revolutionary War.

- John Stevens, one of the trustees commissioned to lay out the town of nearby Sunbury and distribute land grants accordingly.

- Abiel Holmes, grandfather of Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes.

- Jedediah Morse, father of Samuel Morse, inventor of the telegraph.

- Lyman Hall, signer of the Declaration of Independence.

- John Bacon, Lyman Hall, James Screven, Daniel Stewart – all men of such noteworthiness that four Georgia counties were named for them.

And probably one of the most fascinating personalities to be associated with the Midway community:

- Button Gwinnett. Originally from England, Gwinnett enjoyed a colorful history in Georgia politics and military efforts, and was one of only eight signers of the Declaration of Independence who had originally come from England. Talk about a traitor! The man captivates me. Oh, and if you are from Georgia and were wondering… yes, the name is Gwinnett, as in Gwinnett County.

The Midway Church building.

Sadly, most of these families are represented almost exclusively by the Midway Museum, the cemetery across the street, and the church building next door to the museum. Little of the physical evidence of the Midway families remains. But inside the museum are heirlooms, artifacts, and family treasures donated to the museum by the descendants of the original community, many of whom still live in the area today.

The Midway Museum exists because of a strong-minded group of people who understand the significance of the area and have worked for over fifty years to preserve it. Some of them are descendants, some are historians, and some, like me, are just wandering souls who stumble upon this little pearl and want to help hang on to this little bit of Georgia’s heritage.

The Midway Museum needs you! Please visit on your next road trip or vacation. Hours are Tuesday through Saturday, 10 am – 4 pm, Sunday 2-4 pm. Closed on Mondays and all major holidays. Admission prices are $3 for children ages 6-18, $6 for adults, $3 for seniors and military. (Wouldn’t this be a great outing for your Sunday School class?)

Upcoming activities at the Museum include

- Tales & Legends, a guided tour of the Midway cemetery given by expert storytellers in period costume. (Last part of October)

- Annual Christmas Tea. Visit the museum as it is decked out for the holiday season, and enjoy tea and cookies and stories told by guides in period costume. (Second weekend in December)

The Museum is also available for weddings, receptions, teas, and other social functions. For more information on these or any events, please call (912) 884-5837 or email the Midway Museum at museum@coastalnow.net

Ohoopee River Tree

... like a perfectly formed natural sculpture.

I fell in love with this tree some time ago. I pass it on my way home from Savannah as I drive along I-16 toward Macon. I spend a lot of time on 1-16, of course, since I am in Savannah so much; so it follows that I would get to know I-16 pretty well. This tree is one of the “landmarks” I look for, so I’ll know how much farther I have to go before I get home. When I see this tree, I know I am about two hours away.

I love this tree so much. I have always wanted some pictures of it. But I always forget exactly where it is, and by the time I see it it’s too late to pull off and take pictures, or traffic is a little heavier than usual and I am not comfortable stopping. Today as I drove home I watched carefully so I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to pull over and get pictures. It was such a pretty day and traffic was very light, so I knew it would be a good day to capture the tree.

It stands there like a perfectly formed natural sculpture. I don’t know what kind of tree it is. I just love the beauty in the texture and swirls of the bark, and the graceful formation of the limbs. The soft colors in the bark are wonderfully soothing and inspiring at the same time. The earth provided it some background foliage and some Spanish moss to frame it and add just the right touches to make it an unexpected and pleasant visual surprise to travelers.

I used to wonder what it looked like when it was living. Now I just appreciate the beauty and the uniqueness it contributes to the southeast Georgia highway. I know some day it will give up and fall over and eventually it’ll be gone. But for now, I smile when I see it. It feels like an old friend, and the longest branch seems to be the old tree waving at those of us who appreciate it for the extraordinary work of art it is.

Savannah Trolley Tour – Oglethorpe Tours

I’ve helped plan a number of trips to St Augustine for friends as well as people who tracked me down via the Internet. And now that I am working on getting my Savannah tour guide’s license and helping friends plan trips to this beautiful city, I am spending a lot of time falling in love with it getting to know it on an intimate level.

I usually recommend a trolley or horse-drawn carriage tour for first-time visitors. I have done carriage tours in both cities but not til yesterday did it occur to me I had never done a trolley tour in either city. And if I am going to recommend them, I ought to know what I am talking about, right?

Well, it’s just freakin’ time to fix that, isn’t it? I swung into the Visitor’s Center and took a look around. I chatted with representatives of several of the tour companies and chose the one that appealed to me most. This morning, my friend Carrie and I headed into Savannah for a day of “playing tourist.”

Margie & her faithful trolley!

I picked Oglethorpe Tours. I’m not sure why this company called to me more than the others, but I definitely chose wisely. I knew right away we were in for a delightful 90 minutes with Margie, The Coolest Tour Guide Ever. Her bubbly personality and outrageous sense of humor had us powering the trolley almost on laughter alone.

When Margie realized I was planning to get my own tour guide’s license, she immediately took me under her wing, so to speak, and took an extra few minutes explaining things and made an extra effort to get to know me and encourage me. I quickly realized Margie and I have a lot in common – primarily that it’s not enough for us to merely know dates and names. We want to know more – we want to dig deep and find the life and breath in the past and bring it to life as best we can.

Like me, Margie is almost obsessed with the desire to know things about Savannah’s history, and to present the city in such a way that it becomes a thing of value to those who come expecting to see its beauty and quaint Southern charm but quickly realize there’s so much more to it than beautiful architecture and blooming azaleas and live oaks dripping with Spanish moss. Margie’s rich voice and honest deep-South accent made her running commentary pure music to hear. Her big laugh is just contagious and her eyes are bright and direct, confirming the old saying that “the eyes are the windows to the heart.” This is a woman who loves what she does and where she does it. How many of us are that blessed?

Margie took the time to point out Savannah's unique and beautiful ironwork.

We began the tour at the Visitor’s Center, which in and of itself boasts a fascinating past. We moved slowly through the Historic District while Margie pointed out landmarks and points of interest and kept up an intriguing dialogue about Savannah’s builders, caretakers, and secrets. Not satisfied with simply pointing out interesting places and buildings, Margie took the time to point out details like Savannah’s beautiful ironwork and tabby streets and a wall on Factor’s Walk that, upon closer inspection, reveals itself to be the remains of an 18th century fort! I wouldn’t have noticed it had Margie not pointed it out! I adore this woman!

We saw the City Market, Juliette Low’s birthplace, Mercer House, and countless other houses and buildings that are an integral part of Savannah’s past. Margie gave a brief rundown of the Squares as we passed each one, pointing out monuments and interesting bits of history. Arriving at the Cathedral of St John the Baptist, she pulled off and allowed us a few minutes to disembark from the trolley and peek inside the magnificent building. Being a sucker for church-building architecture, I couldn’t resist dashing inside. The interior did take my breath away, that’s for sure.

We made a bit of a stop at the old Warren Candler Hospital. This is a building with a past so amazing that my heart beats a little faster just thinking of it. Such a vivid past this old charismatic structure has! Built in 1819, it has housed Savannah’s poor, her freed slaves, a medical school, a nursing school, and operated as a hospital until 1980! The stories this building could tell – and I want to hear them all!

The beautiful architecture of the Cathdral of St John the Baptist.

At the end of the actual tour, Margie let Carrie & me off at the City Market, where we found a café and a late lunch. When your tour has ended, you can leave the trolley anywhere, and get back on again at any one of a number of stops around the city. So that’s what we did – we took an hour or two to stroll about and then a different trolley, this one driven by Lucille, picked us up at the Juliette Low birthplace.

Here is the other reason I was so pleased with Oglethorpe Tours: customer service. A guest had accidentally left a camera on Lucille’s trolley. Not only did Lucille make every effort to get the camera back to its owner, the other guests aboard the trolley were more than willing and eager to help and to wait while the camera’s owner was tracked down. The guest turned out to be a man travelling with his wife and 84-year-old mother-in-law and two very small dogs. The mother-in-law had been optimistic about being able to stroll about in Forsyth Park but the heat had proven too much for her and she really needed to step back aboard the trolley and ride with her family back to their car. The other guests aboard the trolley were happy to wait patiently while the family got the woman aboard and settled for the ride back to the Visitor’s Center. During the last part of the trip, the guests chatted about places to go, things to do, and fun to have in Savannah and on Tybee Island. The warmth and friendliness of the atmosphere was the perfect end to a lovely day in a stately old beautiful city.

Thanks, Margie; thanks, Lucille; thanks, Oglethorpe Tours. Carrie and I had a great time and we’re still talking over the events of the day and what we saw and learned. You guys rock, and we look forward to touring with you again!

NOTE: This is not an “official” endorsement of one tour company over the others. This is simply an account of one “touristy” day I enjoyed in Savannah on the trolley I happened to be on and the people I happened to be with. I plan to take trolley tours with each tour company in the future, so I know what each has to offer. Click here to vist the Oglethorpe Tours website. Or call them at 912-233-8380.

Ophelia Troup Dent

I first met Ophelia Troup Dent in 2002, which was a neat trick since by that time she had been dead for nearly thirty years. But I do that – I tend to “meet” people after they have died. Makes it a heck of a lot harder to get to know them, but I find out so many interesting things along the way.

Miss Ophelia's house at Hofwyl-Broadfield. Photo by Carrie Mayo.

On a trip from Savannah to St Augustine FL, I noticed a National Park Service sign along I-95 stating that the next exit led to “Hofwyl-Broadfield Plantation.” Always curious and inquisitive, I jumped off the Interstate and onto a country road that led to a fenced and gated entrance.  As I drove through coastal Georgia vegetation and hundreds-of-years-old live oaks I was filled with an expectancy that was nearly overwhelming.

I paid my admission at the Visitor’s Center, and made the walk through the white fence rails out toward the plantation house and outbuildings. The delight of the canopy of moss-draped live oaks was worth the price of admission alone; the path that leads to the buildings is completely shadowed by them.

Arriving at the main house, I fell in love instantly and already; even before I stepped through the door I knew I had found a place where I would leave a piece of my heart. I ate up the tour, marveling at the beautiful old furnishings that had been in the family for generations, and I stood in awe of the life Miss Ophelia herself had lived until 1973. And so began my quest to get to know Miss Ophelia better.

I found out some things immediately – she never married, she was very close to her family, she was athletic and loved horses and dogs (that had me, right there). She liked to meet people. She loved books. She loved art. She loved her friends. She loved to travel.

But I wanted more. After all, if life had sent my family to live in Brunswick as it very nearly did, I might have actually met this lady in person. I shiver with delight even now, just to think of it. But alas – no such luck, so I had to start from scratch.

It wasn’t easy. She is still a very loved and protected figure in her community and those who knew her are reluctant to share much. But it’s like sculpting – you chip away everything that’s not a statue and pretty soon a figure takes shape. Miss Ophelia began to take shape for me fairly quickly.

Carrie sitting on an ancient tree stump at Hpfwyl-Broadfield plantation.

Descended from a long line of strong-willed and influential Georgians, Miss Ophelia understood the concept of community and she lived it every day. Along with her sister Miriam, she operated a small dairy to keep the family farm afloat. And by “operated,” I mean, she ran the dairy. She had some part time outside help, but she and Miss Miriam were Hofwyl Dairy. As owner, manager, and delivery-person, Miss Ophelia knew her community well and immersed herself in it.

In 2002 I decided I had to have a Hofwyl Dairy milk bottle. I wanted to have some small part of Miss Ophelia and Miss Miriam‘s life close to me all the time.  I’m sentimental that way. I put out some emails and made a few calls and no one had ever heard of Hofwyl Dairy so I sort of gave up but I always hoped I’d find one. Then in 2008, my friend Carrie, who knows my obsessions with coastal Georgia history (even if she doesn’t always understand them!) made one phone call – ONE, mind you – and gave me a Hofwyl Dairy milk bottle for my birthday. I don’t think I have ever been so blown away by a gift in my life. She has been with me through my digging and researching the Dent sisters and she alone knew what that bottle would mean to me. Using her now-legendary power of discovery, she found one.

Miss Ophelia’s dedication and involvement in her community is still felt today, some thirty-six years after her passing. Many “Friends Of Hofwyl” knew and remember Miss Ophelia, and her presence is still felt in the old house. In fact, if Miss Ophelia came back to life today, she would recognize her home instantly. To the degree that it can be, it is exactly as she left it right down to the dishes in the cupboards and the counterpane on her bed.

The famous "birthday present" milk bottle.

I visit Hofwyl-Broadfield several times a year. I’m drawn to the oaks, the house, the simple life Miss Ophelia and Miss Miriam lived, with no telly, no Internet, no cell phones, no fax machines. Theirs was a life when real people came to visit and letters and cards written in longhand arrived in the mailbox. Their world was the Altamaha River and Darien and Brunswick. Their entertainment was watching the marsh between their front yard and the river – the rising and setting of the sun, the beautiful storms, and the profuse wildlife. Their home was tall hallways, open windows, fresh air, and heirloom furnishings.

I think what is most overwhelming to me is seeing her car in the garage, exactly as she left it in 1973. It’s one thing to see her possessions inside the house – her chairs and drapes and pretty things – but it’s entirely different to see her blue car in her garage right where she always parked it. It makes her real, somehow, more so than I imagined.

I am so grateful to the National Park Service staff that cares for Miss Ophelia’s home and belongings, with limited resources and doing the best they can in these days of shoestring budgets and relentless cuts.

And I am grateful to Miss Ophelia, for her foresight and her generosity in allowing us a peek into her life and her times, and the things that were most valuable to her. I hope she knows that through her gifts, she is still teaching and shaping me even long after she and I ever had the chance to meet.

The Spanish Quarter Village

One of the great delights of St Augustine is the pride its residents take in their heritage and the legacy they cherish. Parts of the town have been carefully preserved to maintain the “old St Augustine” atmosphere while offering a clear look back into the past. One of the best places in St Augustine to see the past up close is at the Spanish Quarter Village.

Every time I visit The Spanish Quarter Village, I can’t help but wonder if looking into the past, we might build a better future?

A Spanish housewife chats with a neighbopr through a window.

Located along St George Street, across from the Castillo de San Marcos, the Spanish Quarter Village is a living history museum where interpreters become residents and 1740′s St Augustine is a way of life. The village resembles St Augustine near the end of the first Spanish period, and each “resident” offers a skill that provides what the village needs, just as they did over four hundred years ago.

A self-guided walk through the Spanish Quarter allows close-up glimpses into the homes of soldiers and their lives with their families. The houses in the village are reconstructed from archeological findings and research into the history of the structures that once stood along St George Street. Additional structures are built by hand, using hand tools of the period, and crafts and art such as spinning, weaving, sewing, tatting, lacemaking, carpentry, netmaking, candlemaking, woodworking, gardening, leathercrafting and blacksmithing are all done by hand at the village. Some of the clothing worn by the residents is spun, woven and sewn on site. Tools are either made or acquired as best the residents are able to find them. The Village includes many craftspeople as well as a garden and chickens, and you can often find Senora Gallegos preparing lunch in her house.

I have roamed about the Spanish Quarter village for all the years I have been roaming around St Augustine, and I have thoroughly enjoyed talking to the residents and getting an inside look at what it is really like to live in my favorite city. It’s one thing to live in St Augustine – it is an entirely different thing to live there. Many of the interpreters at the village are not “portraying” a character while they are on the timeclock – many of them actually incorporate the 1740′s Spanish lifestyle into their own daily lives. I once spoke with an interpreter there who told me she often dressed the same out of the village as she did when she came to work – she sensibly pointed out that the clothing was far cooler and more practical for her way of life.

The village blacksmith in his shop.

I have always been fascinated with the Spanish implements and tools of the day, and the construction of the Spanish houses. Visit the Casa de Gallegos; wouldn’t cooking a meal be so much more enjoyable if you could sit comfortably on a wide, low “kitchen counter” to prepare your family’s food, while a breeze wafted in through the wide, open windows, and your pet blue jay chattered at you from the top of your shutter? And how much easier would it be to keep a house with only two rooms, when you rolled up your sleeping mats and swept your floor each morning? The idea has its merits, I think.

The sense of community is strong here. It is easy to feel the bond that exists between the people who “live” here; and it clearly paints a living picture of what life in St Augustine in 1740 was really like. It was not simply a good idea to band together for a common purpose – it was crucial to the very existence of these people to band together for survival. They had only what they had; only what they could repair, make, or barter for. Money had little value, really, for if ships couldn’t come from Spain, what was there to buy? When the town had money and there were things to buy with it, times were good. And when pirates attacked, or General James Oglethorpe came up from Georgia to cause problems for St Augustine, everyone grabbed their chickens and their cow or their pig, whatever belongings they could carry, and huddled in the Castillo and hoped for the best.

But most times, soldiers could be found socializing in the tavern and housewives chatting over the fences or through the windows. When a Spanish ship was sighted in the Atlantic, great celebrations broke out, for a new load of goods was arriving and stocks and stores would be replenished. Soon a new belt would appear here or a new skirt there, new bowls and pots and pans and materials to make all manner of new and useful things, and everyone felt wealthy!

Today, many of the interpreters who work in the village will tell you that doing what they do makes them feel wealthy.

The Taberna de Gallo

The Spanish Quarter Village now opens the Taberna del Gallo (Tavern of the Rooster) to visitors on selected evenings. Visit the Taberna for a true St Augustine experience offered nowhere else – socializing in an authentic 18th-century Spanish tavern! Enjoy cool drinks; and on special evenings, live entertainment. It is great fun! You know you are in for a good time when you can hear the celebrations in the tavern a block away.

Be sure and visit the Spanish Quarter Village Museum Store. It is filled with delightful things like crafts and games for children, unique gifts, wonderful T-shirts, and household items that look as though they belong in an 18th-century Spanish home, but are beautiful and functional in any home. You can also purchase items made in the Village, such as iron hooks and nails, handmade beeswax candles, and wooden kitchen goods. The bookstore next to the Museum Store has one of the best selections of local-interest and Florida-related books in the city. I never leave St Augustine without bringing home something from The Spanish Quarter Village!

I spoke with one of the village craftsmen recently; I watched him hammering away for a few minutes, and then I asked him, “What would you be doing if you weren’t doing what you are doing right now?”

He pondered the question for a moment and then he replied, “If I couldn’t live here, I’d be doing this somewhere else!” He went on to tell me how content he is to live in St Augustine, and how he himself has incorporated so much of the Spanish Quarter lifestyle into his own life. And I told him I thought he was one of the luckiest people I know!

Savannah – Georgia Historical Society – See You In Class 2009

It is entirely possible that if you hang with me long enough, you will be heartily sick of hearing about Savannah. Yes, I am hopelessly addicted to the Georgia coast, and steadfastly obsessed with the town James Oglethorpe planted in 1733.

Savannah is – special. As I said to my friend Bobbi, “you don’t have to be “out there” to feel at home in your skin in Savannah, but it helps.” Many historic towns are said to have “atmosphere,” or “ambiance,” or “charm,” but Savannah goes way beyond those things. Savannah hums to herself, and sometimes if you listen you can hear the words. You can’t always make them out, but you can hear them. Sometimes you can hear Savannah laughing, and sometimes you can hear her sigh.

Okay, so I’m “out there.” As a rule I am a GRITS (Girl Raised In The South) with a hangover from Sunday School and an inherent understanding of how to properly fry a chicken and make sweet tea. I did not grow up believing in ghosts and I don’t believe in them now. But in Savannah, you find yourself altering many things you thought you believed – or didn’t.

Savannah and St Augustine ignited my interest in dead people. You see, I have a terrible habit of finding the most fascinating people and wanting to get to know them better – after they are dead. I love getting to know these people, but it presents a problem for me because it’s a mighty tough task to get to know someone after they are dead. I mean, with the decomp and silence and all. Yet I carry on because I have this endless, insatiable curiosity.

So, a few months ago, I saw an email in my inbox called “See You In Class” from the Georgia Historical Society. Lo and behold, the GHS offered a series of summer classes dedicated to research and preservation of genealogy, family documents, oral history… as well as walking tours of noteworthy subjects in Savannah. I was so there.

On July 13, GHS held its Introduction To Genealogical Research class. Now, while I am certainly interested in researching the two lines of my own family that go back to Savannah during her birth, I also wanted to learn the resources and protocols of this marvelous library. So off I went to Hodgson Hall on Whitaker Street to explore this delightful place.

The beautiful and stately Hodgson Hall, home of the Georgia Historical Society.

If you love history, live in the area (and by “in the area” I mean on the planet) and have not visited Hodgson Hall, I urge you to do so. The hall was built in 1875 for the express purpose of housing the Georgia Historical Society which by that time was thirty-six years old already. So the building has never been anything but a research library. And what a library it is! It is pure enchantment to simply walk along and look at the titles on the shelves. Being a little ADD myself, it’s easy to forget why I am there in the first place when I see such delightful titles as I pass the shelves in search of a specific book. I have learned to just keep my head down and go straight to the book I need, otherwise it’s too easy to lose myself as I give in to the temptation to pull wonderful volumes and forget why I am there in the first place.

I have attended several other really great classes at GHS since then, and next week will be there for two classes: Oral History, Getting Started and Oral History, It’s Recorded, Now What? These will be wonderful classes, I am sure.

Across from Hodgson Hall is the beautiful Forsyth Park, with its neat walkways, abundant wildlife, splendid fountain and weathered wooden benches that beg a tired visitor to sit a spell and just take in the magic. It’s a great place to stroll and think about what you’ve learned at the magnificent Hodgson Hall. The fountain’s comforting splashing punctuates the birdsong and the ancient live oaks with their dripping Spanish moss provide lovely shade – and if you listen, maybe a sweet song or two.

My Savannah Obsession

My Savannah obsession took a little longer to develop than my St Augustine one. It’s not that I had anything against Savannah… it’s more like James Oglethorpe just sort of got my dander up. And it’s not that I disliked the guy. It’s just that, being a St Augustinian in my heart, I really resented his unrelenting eighteenth century efforts to take my city.

Okay, yes, you’re right. I know the Spanish were just as bad about the Debatable Land along what is now the Georgia coast. But when lines are drawn, you naturally see your side as being right and the other side as being jerks. So I snootily refused to make friends with Oglethorpe or to like his city, strictly on principle.

But Savannah has a way of wearing you down. And being an insatiable history hound, when a person or a place wears me down, I have to absorb all I can about that person or place. Savannah got to me with her most lethal weapons: her giant, ancient live oaks with Spanish moss dripping almost to the ground, limbs extended over city streets making me feel like I was being embraced by loving arms.

Yup. I am a sucker for Spanish moss.

Because I am a sucker for Spanish moss. Pure and simple. Yes, Savannah reeled me in with bait as simple as Spanish moss. Some days I feel like the dumbest fish that ever lived. But then, I am easily distracted by shiny objects.

So, Savannah got her hooks in me. I began to learn more about the city from which I had never lived more than four hours. I fell hopelessly in love with her quiet willingness to share, if I was willing to accept.  And I made friends with James Oglethorpe.

To know Oglethorpe is to know Savannah, and to really understand Savannah, you have to understand James Oglethorpe. When you look at the city through his eyes and see it as he saw it, you can clearly see his dream for a colony. Not the colony of British rejects that Georgia is so commonly thought to be, but a colony of people who just wanted a second chance and were willing to work hard – and maybe even die – for that chance.

What would it take to plant a colony in a place where only Indians and alligators lived, and to survive there? Where would these people live? Who would build their houses? Where would they get food and clothing? The passengers that disembarked from the ship Anne in 1733 brought what they thought they would need in the way of relevant goods, and they brought seeds and materials to grow or build or make whatever else they needed that they didn’t have.

What exactly does that mean? Well – it means if you got off the boat and realized you had forgotten your favorite shirt or your pillow or your fork, then you did without until you made, grew, or traded for another. No WalMarts or Dollar Generals to run to if you needed toilet paper or light bulbs. And this happened because of the vision of one man – a member of the gentry, who was willing to give everything he had to the people who believed in him and in themselves enough to take the risks they took.

The fountain in Forsyth Park, across from the Georgia Historical Society.

Savannah overwhelms me. She overwhelms me not only with her sheer beauty and unique nature, but in her strength and in the wonders that pop up everywhere I look. Savannah gives you very little. In order to know Savannah you have to make the effort to know her. She doesn’t give herself up easily because she is a city of layers. To really know her, you have to peel off the layers to get down to the bone and then you find yourself sitting next to James Oglethorpe, looking out over the marsh, nodding and saying, “Now I see it. You were right.” He gives you an appreciative smile in return and you vow you feel him pat your hand in friendship and acceptance because now, you understand.

These days, I spend a lot of time with James, and with some of those who helped him build a colony: Mary Musgrove, Noble Jones, my own ancestors William Stephens and Henry Parker. Re-constructing these lives and purposes fascinates me. I am eternally grateful to the staggeringly amazing staff at the Georgia Historical Society for their patience with me and their help as I sift through yet another box of documents for yet another tidbit of information to push me a wee bit farther along.

Because every little bit I gain expands and deepens my attachment to the city and to those who built it. Is that attachment worth anything? I don’t know. Don’t care. I read a wonderful quote by Mike Dolan (HawaiianLife): “Knowing the past makes you responsible as the caretaker for their story…”

Is it arrogant to think of myself as a “caretaker?” I don’t know. Don’t care. All I know is that I’ve learned the past and now I will take the utmost care of the stories and share them the only way I know how.

I see it, Jamie. I understand.

My St Augustine Obsession

The Castillo de San Marcos

I suppose I am obsessed. I’ve certainly been called that before.

When I was nine, my dad told me we were spending two weeks in “the country’s oldest city.” I figured that was cool; yes, I had to combine fun with a little education, but heck, I was going to Florida! Two whole weeks in Florida! I could stomach sightseeing and learning as long as I knew there was a beach or a pool in it later.So off we went; the car loaded with me, my parents and my 6-month-old brother, who was supremely unimpressed with the Nation’s Oldest City and howled pretty much the whole time we were there. As adults, he has since asked me to take him back there but I can’t shake the memories of his howling, and it’d be just my luck he’d do it again.

We arrived in St Augustine, driving along San Marco Avenue, which to this day remains my favorite way to enter the city. I looked through my pop-bottle glasses at the City Gate, and at the hulking Castillo de San Marcos on my left, and thought, “Yes! THIS is where I am supposed to be!”

Fascinated, I continued to soak up my first impressions of what was to become the dearest place in the world to me. The line of buildings along the bayfront, the Bridge of Lions, the Plaza… I was home and I knew it.

The scene changed constantly as we crossed the bridge – boats heading into Matanzas Bay, my first glimpse of Anastasia Island, the lighthouse tower… oh, THIS was MY place in the world! I couldn’t wait to explore it – to see it up close, touch it, smell it, hear it – even taste it.

But first we had to find a place to stay. We found a cute little motel with a pool out on St Augustine Beach, and since it was late in the day, my dad decided we’d sightsee tomorrow. First, he wanted to take me out on the air mattress and teach me to ride the waves. I wanted to go back to town – I was foaming at the mouth to see everything but Dad had the car keys and I was only nine. You kinda have to do what your parents make you do at that age.

We unpacked the car and my dad and I headed to the beach. I hadn’t spent much time in Florida, and I was excited to be there and to get to play in the ocean. We waded out into the water, and my dad helped me get on the air mattress. Riding the waves was wonderful fun… feeling the dip in the water before the swell pushed me into the air and then dropped me back again, with a little “flip” in my stomach. I rode the waves for about five minutes before a huge wave broke right over top of me and washed my pop-bottle glasses right off my nose.

St George Street, looking south along the Spanish Quarter Museum.

Great. Now, here I was, in the one place on earth I wanted to be, the place I had found where I knew I belonged, and I couldn’t even see it! We went out sightseeing the next day and I didn’t see many sights! I could see the blurs of my parents pointing things out to each other, and I could see the blurs they were pointing to, and that was about it. But I could smell it. And I could hear it and feel it. I could touch things… the Castillo walls, the doors of the Oldest House, the pillars of the City Gate, the air… and I had no doubt that I was home.

Our two weeks ended, and we headed back to Georgia. Back to routine, to school, to everyday things but I dreamed often of St Augustine. I have always been an avid reader of anything I could get my hands on, and one day, while digging through my grandmother’s bookshelf for something new to read, I came across her copy of “Maria,” by Eugenia Price. I became interested in it almost immediately, for it was set in St Augustine! Fascinated, I devoured the novel in a day, and while reading Miss Price’s afterword, I realized one of the places I had visited in St Augustine, The Oldest House, was Maria’s house! I had been to Maria’s house- I had walked through her rooms and sat in her garden! Wow!

I returned to St Augustine several more times on vacation with my parents, and then several more times with friends. But I longed to visit my city by myself, to wander through it, taking my time, exploring it and discovering all its secrets. So, in 1991, I packed up my little silver Mazda RX-7 and headed south, delightfully alone, eagerly anticipating the treasures I would find. I started my visit at The Oldest House, of course, and while I was there, soaking up Maria’s essences in her house, one of the house guides remarked that there was an historical research library out back and anyone who wanted to could go in there and read, and look things up, and see the history of the Oldest City for themselves.

The Llambias House, St Francis Street.

I wasted not one second getting to this treasure trove. I opened the doors to the library and was immediately surrounded by piles of incredible information and the most helpful and knowledgeable people – people as obsessed as I was about this beautiful city and its secrets. The library has since been moved to its new larger home, the Kirby-Smith House on Aviles Street, and it remains my favorite spot to visit in St Augustine.

I started talking to people. I wanted to talk to everyone who lived in my city. I wanted to know everything. And I learned something interesting: if you live in St Augustine, it’s okay to say you are “from” St Augustine. I noticed that pattern as I began to get to know people. So, my question, “are you from St Augustine?” was always followed with “how long you been here?” Answers would range from a week to years. That always cracked me up.

I have made St Augustine my part-time home. I hold a tour guide’s license issued by the city, and plan trips online for anyone who asks. I have taken several groups of visitors to the city for guided vacations. I guess I fit in pretty well, for I am frequently approached by visitors asking for directions or information about the city. Once when I was there, a couple asked me to recommend a good place for breakfast, so I did. They thanked me and as they turned to leave, the husband asked me if I was from St Augustine.

I couldn’t resist. “Sure am!” I replied.

I never did find my glasses. I think I learned to see the old city better without them.

Captain Joe’s Seafood Restaurant, Midway, Georgia

Carrie stands in front of our favorite lunch spot!

I have many “favorite places” along the Georgia coast. One of them is Captain Joe’s Seafood Restaurant in Midway. I know there are various Captain Joe’s locations and I’m sure they’re all good. But the Midway location feels like home to me, and I love to stop there as often as possible when I am in the area.

My friend Carrie introduced me to Captain Joe’s a year ago. I had passed it numerous times on my many trips up and down Highway 17 but never stopped there. That’s definitely my mistake. All those years I could have been enjoying the delicious fare and welcoming service…

Well, I won’t make that mistake again! Captain Joe’s is one of my most important stops, and more than once I have had a hankerin for grilled shrimp and figured since I hadn’t been to Midway in, oh, a week or so, maybe it was time to head on down!

I am addicted to Captain Joe’s salad bar, that’s for sure. It’s been a long time since I have enjoyed a salad bar so much. Salad makings are always absolutely fresh and appetizing. Every time I am there I know I really need to stop with my salad of fresh lettuce and vegetables and all my favorites, but I just don’t want to. I know there are so many other delicious menu items to enjoy!

On the salad bar you will also find homemade jacket potato chips as well as sweet potato chips, yummy creamy salads, fresh cold fruit, a selection of breads (including Captain Joe’s famous cheese biscuits), soups, and desserts. Seriously, the salad bar really is a meal in and of itself. But pace yourself because you don’t want to miss all the other offerings.

To be honest, once I fall in love with something, that’s it for me. So my sampling of Captain Joe’s menu is fairly limited but that’s only because I can hold only so much food! My favorite menu items are grilled shrimp and grilled mahi mahi. I’m not a great fan of fish, which is unfortunate and I am making an effort to change that. But if I lived close enough, I’d have Captain Joe’s mahi mahi every day, if I could. I have sampled Captain Joe’s fried fantail shrimp and I can truthfully say it’s the best I’ve ever had.

While Captain Joe’s serves excellent food, it’s not just the food that keeps me going back. A restaurant can serve the finest food in the world but if its service stinks, well, so does the restaurant. Captain Joe’s servers are the nicest, friendliest, more helpful people you will meet anywhere. Carrie and I have never walked through the door that someone has not been all over us, seating us immediately (at our favorite table), smiling and acting for all the world like they were just waiting for us to arrive.

And there is a reason for this: it’s that the management knows it’s the employees that make a business successful. By one server’s own admission, she feels more like a daughter to her employer than an employee. It’s refreshing to watch the interaction and smiles exchanged among those who keep Captain Joe’s running, and it makes the experience that much more special.

Before we are even settled in our seats looking out at the giant live oaks and palm trees, cold drinks arrive. And I am not talking a glass of iced tea or soda. I am talking a PITCHER of iced tea or soda along with your glass so you can refill your own. I love this. Not only can I keep my drink exactly as I want it, but it saves the servers time and energy. I think this is brilliant and just another example of how well Captain Joe’s understands the business of service.

If you happen to be in Midway, do stop in at Captain Joe’s and abandon yourself to a wonderful coastal Georgia seafood experience, offered by a warm and friendly staff who knows how to do it and do it right! Look for me and Carrie at the corner table, and stop by to say hello!

Click here to visit Captain Joe’s website.