Nothing is ever what it seems.....

Friends:

Nothing is ever what it seems ...

" .. .Sir, didst not thou sow good seed in thy field? From whence, then, hath it tares ... He said to them, 'An enemy hath done this' .... " Matthew 13: 27-28

We joke about Brantley County, but I had never really been there to see it for myself. You?
So yesterday I left Paradise Found for the trip inland. Nahunta, the county seat, is a microcosm of the hot, dusty reality of South Georgia in the summer, with the only discernible signs of growth being weeds and kudzu. It is an intellectual wasteland of low hopes and lower achievements. I was heading over there to meet my friend, Wayne Morgan, an excellent photographer of some local renown whose work is gaining regional prominence. He was my host to visit some of the most photographic sites in the county for photo ops.

As I crossed the Lanier Bridge, its apex whispered to me that this bridge represents both hopeful anticipation or memories past of something we've left behind, irrespective of the direction traveled. Since I was headed west, I knew what was behind, but expectant for an interesting day of photography. In about 20 miles I entered Brantley County. It's easy to recognize the entry, because news travels slowly, if at all, to this part of the world, and according to the signs, Mark Taylor and Sonny Perdue are still locked in mortal combat for the governor's race. Faulkner had it right: "The past is never dead. It's not even past."

Jerry J's was our rendezvous spot, the "J" quite possibly meaning "joint", the kind of place loved by locals where trans-fat is cleverly disguised as edibles. Having had our share, we headed out to visit scenic spots along the Big and Little Satilla Rivers, and I was amazed what we saw. Wayne is a local boy and an expert on the area. And experts are always advisable when in foreign lands. The rivers, though impacted by the drought, are still truly spectacular, their iced-tea colored water contrasting with the silica-white sand made them ideal for photography. I couldn't resist wading in some parts, and except for my modesty and decorous attitudes would have plunged in naked for the experience. Alas, the lost opportunities of life ...

But like America, the Satilla River basin is experiencing the influx of an illegal alien, an ugly creature known as the Flathead Catfish. Introduced to these waters by the same low form of humanity who brought in slavery, leaves dog excrement on our beaches and cigarette butts in the streets, they are decimating the redbreast sunfish population the region is known for. It kinda reminds one of the human illegals who are depleting jobs and welfare in this country.
But DNR has devised a novel cure: The Flathead is being introduced to sexy Mama-Cats and the effect of that conjunction is sterilization. Too bad the Flathead can't read Ecclesiastes 6:9:
"Better is the sight of the eyes than the wandering of the desire .... " As usual, when an answer is found, it will be a simple, sexy one. I wonder if Congress has considered this plan. Am I getting ahead of myse1f?

Well, the beauty of the Satilla notwithstanding, a man needs some devil's brew occasionally to cut the dust, so about 4:00 I headed home, again crossing the Lanier Bridge with my own self-expectations. But it did occur to me that no matter what metaphorical Lanier Bridge we cross in life, we will always find beauty, intrigue and good folks if we look. And I reminded myself that I, too, have been an alien also in many places and in many times, though legal, and that's something to think about.

Bud
June 28, 2007