Years ago, before the interstates were built, going south from Atlanta, you took back roads and a highway called “Golden Isle Parkway.” Small towns have suffered as the expressway took away their well being through customers and commerce. People chose to get where they were going faster. Seems that attitude has ruined not only our surroundings, but many lives. How can people slow down and savor life when they are rushing so much?
This past Saturday, my youngest daughter drove me to a memorial service for an old friend, Buck, whose family was friends to all of us, having lived a stint in Stockbridge and fellowshipped with us at Stockbridge UMC. The Service was in Lumber City, one of the small towns I speak of. I’ve spoken of McRae where my grandparents lived.
I love all these little towns. Usually, I am the one driving, but with a driver for me, I was able to see all I’ve been unable to when driving. We exit 75 at one of the Dublin exits, driving toward McRae. Tall pines frame the road and many old buildings where people lived and farmed, mostly weathered wood, with missing windows and roofs collapsing. Go to the website, “Vanishing South Georgia Photographs” by Brian Brown to see some of the old buildings that soon will disappear from our landscape.
I found this trip terribly sad, not only because Buck has left us, but so much of our surroundings are disappearing. When we used the Golden Isle to visit McRae and rode through the small towns, Chauncey was the last little haven we passed through after Eastman, then came McRae.
Entering McRae from that highway, we first saw a tall water tower, actually entering Helena, which is like a sister town to McRae. I don’t know where it ends and McRae starts. That is when my heart beat faster and excitement began. I would get to see my grandparents, friends and in later years I’d have a date or two. Those are the little things that brought love and excitement into my life. I do miss that feeling!
When riding the Dublin road, those pines hemmed us in all the way. When my children were small, I remember the moans and groans when I’d stop to take a photo of some ruin, especially old gas stations. Knowing they would not be there forever, I could not pass them by without a last honor to their being. I made the comment to my daughter, “Some of these pines were planted before I was born! They do a lot of timber cutting around there and I was sad to see some of the old pines leaning over, held up at a tilt by a stronger tree.
At the end of the highway before you enter McRae is Ocmulgee Park. A small airstrip across the road where people from all over fly in to play on the well-known golf course. The park held many family reunions, a swimming section in the lake with a bath house and concession stand where candy bars were available frozen! There was a sandy beach to lie on and two docks connected with a wire fence, with a diving board near the end. Talk about danger, we didn’t have sharks, but we did have alligators! I never thought of the alligators being able to get through that flimsy wire fence.
On our way to Lumber City we had to go through the town of McRae. The Gene Theater, was closed, but the marquee still bore the name and driving out of town was the Talmadge home. Someone purchased the home and was using it for events. As we rode through the center of town, I looked at the buildings, more empty and dark than open. That was disheartening. I remembered the hustle and bustle that used to go on in town, it was often hard to find a parking space.
We passed the old radio station where my first love was a disc jockey. Right across is the newest cemetery where the Batchelors are buried. On our way home from the memorial, we stopped to check on everyone, then crossed over to the old cemetery and visited my family, the Pullens. Everyone seemed fine before we headed home.
I probably could write a book about these places that I still love. Too many words here to print. Sometime, when you are traveling to Florida and not in a hurry, try the Golden Isle Parkway. You will still see the signs and many sites you won’t see on the expressway!
It was of interest that a friend of mine living in the South Georgia coastal area sent me the article by Jimmie Batchlor which mentioned McRae several times. I was born and lived in McRae until I was nine years old when my parents moved us to Waycross. I kept in touch with most of my McRae friends through high school and even now with the one referenced above who is a retired physician. The mention of McRae brought back memories of places and times that I passed many years ago as we moved to Waycross in 1940. Now that I live in Pennsylvania it seems like a remote possibility that I will have the opportunity to revisit McRae, but I would like to. But then, maybe we can’t go home again.