Confession: Fugitive from Justice

This week, I felt we needed a respite from all the gloominess and goofiness going on in our world, our nation, and our state.  The following true story is my attempt to lighten things up.

I love springtime and attending the various festivals.  Here in Forsyth, we just celebrated the Forsythia Festival and Macon is in the midst of the Cherry Blossom Festival.  As much fun as they may be, I cannot bring myself to attend the festivities held at night.  I suffer from post-traumatic stress!

In an effort to improve my PTSD, I have decided to confess to my past criminal act and my life as a fugitive from justice.  Here it goes, folks, and please don’t judge me too harshly.

In our young married days, George and I called Savannah home for ten years.  In 1976, Savannah started a street festival to promote its downtown area in honor of the Bicentennial.  It was called “Night in Old Savannah.”  This became a wonderful annual event with great food and great entertainment.  It was at one of these celebrations that we were able to hear patriotic, singing legend Kate Smith, sing “God Bless America”, live (well, almost) and in person.   

When our son was only two years old, we made our annual trek to “Night in Old Savannah.”  After walking and carrying him through throngs of people, we were exhausted. We finally found a place in a nearby, unlit square where we could sit and still hear the music. 

All the benches were occupied but a nice grassy area was available.  We collapsed in the long, soft grass beside a group of teenagers.   The teenagers began picking at our son, or visa versa.  In any event, our son pulled up a hand-full of the long, soft grass and threw it at the teenagers.  They reciprocated.  In just a short while, other teenagers joined in the grass fight.  Our son was in the thick of it, and at times they would all bombard him, actually burying him in grass.  All the while he was laughing and having the time of his young life.  The darkness of the square did not allow us to see anyone’s face. We could only see the outlines and shadows of everyone in the square, including the adults getting into the act of throwing grass.  This was truly a fun night in old Savannah!  Good, clean fun with teenagers playing with a small child.

Two days later while reading the newspaper, an article caught my eye.  Vandals Destroy Rare Grass in Square.  As my knees began to shake, I read the article.  The article stated it was believed that teenaged revelers at the Night in Old Savannah celebration destroyed a rare border grass that was imported from Argentina (or one of those South American countries) and it was going to cost the City of Savannah thousands of dollars to replace.  I became so hot, it’s a wonder the newspaper didn’t catch fire! 

For weeks, I was afraid to take our son out in public for fear someone would recognize him and yell, “There’s that kid that destroyed the rare grass!”   Like every criminal, I returned to the scene of the crime.  I couldn’t believe how it looked in the daylight and couldn’t understand how we could mistake the obvious borders for a place to sit. 

Phew!  I feel much better.  I pray that after 40 years, the statute of limitation on grass vandalism protects my family! 

Good news for residents of High Falls, Blount, and anyone in need of help with your food budget!  The Bell’s of the Trading Post located at 42 N and Blount Road have opened a free food pantry.  The food pantry is open each Thursday and Friday with fresh produce and many other grocery items.  No questions asked.  This is a much-needed service to our community.