Getting Along Together....

Friends: Getting Along Together…


As you know, I continue to keep a real estate office in Atlanta so I can continue to keep a home here…and frequently I drive up there and re-enter the world of competition among the desperate, the dumb and the greedy. It’s real hard to get along together in this town, but I fit right into this genre, of course, else how could I understand it? The islands here really don’t prepare one for this level of competition, except it is a good place to run to for refuge.

Yesterday I drove half way and spent the night with my pal Mike Kellar on his hunting plantation in Washington County, middle-Georgia style. Fortified with tall glasses of good scotch which were frequently refreshed and lively conversation, we toured his hunting land in the pickup along with two dogs in the back. Our arms dangled out of the windows, soft breeze blowing our hair, the seat belts unbuckled (at 20 mph, who needs one!), my feet propped up on the dash, and we cruised along sandy dirt roads and fire breaks laughing, relaxing, embellishing stories that the country song describes as “…the older I get, the better I was.” It was good to forget the parallel universe of Atlanta for awhile.

We stopped at Jackie’s house, a timber cruiser and general handyman, and found him with several of his cronies and their toothless “women” sitting in the dusty squalor of the back yard in worn-out chairs and swings picked up at the local dump. Of course, they were drinking beer in great quantities and it was difficult to understand more than a few words in the sentences, just enough to piece together a generalization of what they were talking about. It was third-worldly for sure! I guess I was the good-lookin’ new guy on the block, and they eyed me pretty closely, especially the two women…but I don’t dig toothless gals, and so I didn’t make much eye contact with them for fear of having to defend myself. Hey, I saw Deliverance five times!

Now Jackie is a rooster man…that is, he raises roosters for cock fighting. Only problem is it’s illegal, unless you know the local sheriff. He defended his “trade” by some well-contextualized quotes from Proverbs, things like “Money answereth to all things…” and, “The rich man’s wealth is his strong city…”. They spotted me as a rube and tried to sell me a bunch of these roosters and get into the dirty trade myself…and if I had not been so hungry for that steak Mike had promised, I might have joined him. So I dug deep with a Proverb of my own, “In the house of the righteous is much treasure, and in the revenues of the wicked is trouble”. That seemed to calm his nerves long enough for Mike and me to slink off in the darkness back to the truck for another scotch and that steak in Sandersville.

Later that night, as I walked outside with the dogs before bed, I thought about this motley crew of low-lifes…and the thing that struck me mostly was that they all got along with each other, sitting, laughing and drinking and seemingly having no cares in the world…and shoot, I think they were just fooling with me all along, just to see how I’d take it. I pulled off today at Exit 98, SR 57 to Reidsville off I-16 for some gas. Next to the Chevron station was a small lake and a multitude of farm animals basking in the sun…a bull, horse, donkey, ducks, geese, an emu and a cute herd of goats. They didn’t seemed to have much of a care either, and they were all sitting around together, like a scene out of Orwell’s Animal Farm…where he said, “All animals are created equal, but some are more equal than others.” They must have not read that part of Orwell, and like the rednecks, they were all getting along together.

Rodney King, you remember, the fellow in the LA riots who was assaulted, uttered this prophetic question, flung heavenly: “Can’t we all just get along?” Well, Rod, I think you hit on something, and as I spent 24 hours in the Georgia outback, I believe it is possible.



Bud
November 1, 2007