Thankful for the "Old"

   What is it about old buildings that attract me? I have a hard drive full of abandoned homes, farm buildings left to rot and fall, stately courthouses some still in use, churches of the past era active and in use today, as well as a variety of buildings captured in the cities and small towns of Georgia.

   On a short trip last week I captured these places with my lens:

   An 1801 Government building in Augusta, home to the first courts in Richmond Co.

   The Lincoln County Courthouse in Lincolnton

   A unique courthouse in Washington, GA, home of the government of Wilkes Co.

   The courthouse in Appling, still active, but increasingly bypassed as the population of the county moves toward the eastern part of its boundary.

   St. James Untied Methodist Church, built in 1856 and still serving in Augusta.

   Men and Women served in all these places. They made decisions that took care of people, preserved freedoms and liberties, and allowed the economy to prosper.

   Service in courthouses and churches all across this state gave us the lives that we now enjoy. The propagation of our democratic system, and the faith that ties us to a God that blessed us greatly.

   On this Thanksgiving holiday in 2014, I think back and I thank all those who have served in the past, and those serving today.

   And I think of all who have blessed us with their lives, all the while serving in relative obscurity in places like these:

or

   Moms and Dads, bringing up their kids "right", instilling in them the values of honesty, caring, working, and believing, no matter the economic condition.

   I am thankful for the opportunity to photograph these and many more "old" places around our state, but I salute, with my gratitude, those who served in each one, public or private, and passed down to us our heritage of freedom and Christian faith.

   Thank You, God

   May we do the same, faithfully each and every day.

"First, Do No Harm"

   A few days back, after visiting a friend over in prison, I wrote a piece about my experience there and posted it on this site. It is here:

http://walkinganewpath-pilgrim.blogspot.com/2014/11/security-whose-and-how.html

   Thinking that my friend would enjoy reading my reflections on his "home" over there, I made a copy and sent it off to him in the mail.

   Then yesterday, there are two letters in the mailbox. One from the prison officials returning my copy of the blog post, and another from the friend advising me of the situation.

   It seems that the deputy warden got ahold of the correspondence, I guess they open all the mail before it is delivered, and took offense to what I had written in the blog. By sending a copy on to the inmate, the assumption was made that I was giving information on visiting procedures that might allow an inmate to escape.

   Of course that was not my intent. In fact, I never even considered that possibility at all. All I wanted to do was to tell him what being in that prison felt like to me on that day. I never dreamed that what I wrote could be a potential problem to him. Just this little post, little in my opinion, might have triggered disciplinary actions, ones that could impact his standing in that place. Not for me were problems a possibility, but for the man who had no part in the act.

   When I got over my shock at the fact that the officials would read so much into that "innocent" post, I realized I had not thought out very well my actions in sending it to him in the mail. I had known that he would never see it on the blog site as they have no access to the Internet, so snail mail was the only way I could think of to tell my thoughts. Copying the post and printing it out for him seemed to be the best way.

   My friend wrote, telling me of the official's reprimand he received because of my actions, but more forcefully stating that I don't need to do that sort of thing again.

   In other words "Think before you act".

   While I was thinking of that this morning, the words of the Hippocratic Oath, "First do no harm", came to mind. (Researching that quote on line, I find that it is really not in the Oath, but comes from a later time period, but it does convey meaning for me in the situation.)

   Words have a tremendous potential for good or for ill, many times unintended consequences, as I found out.

   I thought also of this verse in Psalms:

"Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart Be acceptable in Your sight, O Lord, my rock and my Redeemer."

   Think, Don, Think!

   Too many words, too little thinking and discretion.

   First, do no harm...

Three Meaningful Words

   I received a post from a friend this morning. It was a quote from Psalm 37:4 and it talked about taking delight in the Lord.

   I jokingly replied back that it is hard when the wind chill is 21, but truly it is not all that hard.

   Looking at a definition of "success", someone said that it is "Doing the best you can with what you have and where you are."

   There is a lot in those few words:

      Your best
      What you have
      Where you are

   Those thoughts can lead to three more words:

      Gratitude
      Peace
      Contentment

   I have been working on my Georgia courthouses over the past couple of days and this picture came up as I opened the file this morning:

   Worth County, Sylvester, GA

   The fall foliage shot just seemed like the picture of those three little words:

      Gratitude
      Peace
      Contentment

   So, I delighted in the Lord and his world on the day that I took this, and I get to do it again as I think on all the life He has allowed me to live., and the people he has brought into my life.

   Thank You, God

   Amen and Amen

What is in a Name?

   There was a sign in a little park in Americus, GA that has stayed with me since that Sunday morning a couple of weeks back when I read it for the first time.

   There are some names on this plaque that stand out. Dr. Rees who gave the land for the park in 1846, his son Lucius, who died in the battle of Petersburg in VA in 1864 and for whom the park was dedicated as a permanent memorial, General Robert E. Lee, the commander of the army in which he served.

   But there is another person on there, and he is nameless. He is not known for what name he was called, but for what he did.

   The sign reads in part:

   "Against horrendous odds, and enslaved family servant, who accompanied him to war, single-handedly returned is body to his grieving family here in Americus for burial in nearby Oak Grove Cemetery."

   Too often we strive through live to make a name for ourselves, to be relevant in the place that we live.  A name that will live on after we do. How much better to be remembered for the good that we have done, even if our name is not spoken.

   Priorities in the right order.

   Another thing I need to remember and do.

 

Weekday People

   A couple of weekends ago, it was a trip to Leesburg, Lumpkin, Preston, Cochran, Baxley, McRae and Alma, with a sleepover in Americus. When you travel on a Saturday and Sunday, this is what you get.

   A courthouse building, a town square devoid of people and monuments that you can't ask anyone about.

   But what about just taking off in the middle of the week? There is more traffic on the roads to be sure, but the one thing that makes it more informative and enjoyable is that there are actually real people to talk with and learn from.

   An example of this was brought home to us this past Thursday, as we took a day off and visited the towns of Hinesville, Reidsville, Mt. Vernon, Soperton, Claxton and Pembroke, all county seats with courthouses for us to see and photograph.

   After visiting the first four on that list, and after munching on our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, we rolled into Claxton, home of the Claxton fruit cakes and the county seat of Evans County.

   Evans County, named for a Confederate General who surrendered with Lee at Appomattox in 1865, was constituted in 1914 with land taken from Bulloch and Tattnall counties. The current population is around 11,000, with Claxton the largest town.

   As I came back from the front of the courthouse building, I found Mayre talking with a lady at the side door. There was an apology for the side entrance being locked, which we had not tried to enter anyway, but the lady invited us in to see the building.

   This led to a tour of the upstairs with its original courtroom as well as some minutes discussing the county and its people. This was the original, and only, courthouse the county had used for all of its 100 year history. It was built in 1923 and was in great shape after a remodeling in 1980.

   It was an unhurried visit, as we sat in the old courtroom and visited for some little time. Our guide was the Clerk of the courts of the county, Kathy Hendrix, and she was glad to answer all our questions and give us facts about things that we did not even know to ask about.

   The personal touch is what we will remember. All kinds of information can be gleaned from books and monuments, but having a person take her time to show some people around and explain the workings of the country and its government made it special.

   Georgia has 159 counties, and we have seen a lot of them, but the ones that we will remember the best will be those where the contact was personal.

   Thank you, Kathy for your willingness to share and your time to do it.

   God puts people in our path that make our lives richer just by their being there, if we only take the time to listen and look. Those are the best days of our traveling.

   The key to meaningful travel is people…

   Some day I might tell you about the locked rest rooms and the inmate reconditioned pews.

Eleven, Eleven, Eleven

   Early on last Sunday morning, out to catch a possible sunrise, I walked in a park across from our B&B in Americus, GA.

   It was a small park, maybe a block long and less than 100 yards wide, but filled with history.

   As I glanced to the east toward the lightening sky, there was this sculpture, silhouetted against that morning.

   I could tell from the shape of the helmet that the soldier on the pedestal was of the WWI era, so I went closer to see any inscription on the base. It read:

SUMTER COUNTY
AFFECTIONATELY REMEMBERS
HER SONS WHO DIED, AND THOSE
WHO OFFERED THEMSELVES, AS
WILLING SACRIFICES IN THE
CAUSE OF OUR COUNTRY.
1917 WORLD WAR 1918

   A close up view of the soldier figure showed a man moving through a battlefield strewn with barbed wire, probably a depiction of a charge through no-man's land in the trench warfare days of that war.

   We have a national day of remembrance today, November 11, 2014, originally called Armistice Day, but now entitled Veteran's Day, formerly to honor those who served and died in that conflict, now to honor all veterans who have served this country.

   So I do that this morning.

   World War I came to a close on the 11th hour in the morning of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918.

   This year is the 100th anniversary of the start of this conflict. The war lasted 4 years. America was involved in only the last 2 years, and sometimes this war pales in comparison to the greater involvement in WWII, or the more recent ones of Vietnam and Iraq, but there were sacrifices of life and limb in those early days of the 20th century also.

   Those who served, and who sometimes gave it all, carried the weight of our freedom on their shoulders all down through our nation's history, and it is fitting that we honor them today.

   And I am glad that I got up early last Sunday and spotted this monument as a visual reminder of the cost of my freedom.

   Let us not forget...

Security, Whose and How?

   At the end of the sidewalk, there is a gate. I walk toward it.

   An unseen hand presses a button, and I hear "click"

   I pull the gate, enter, and it shuts behind me as I approach a door, "CLANK"

   I open the door and enter a room with a woman behind the counter.

   "Sign in, give me some ID, state why you are here."

   I do all the above and then hear:

   "Take off your shoes and put them on the scanner tread."

   I do and then walk through the body scanner, and then hear:

   "Empty your pockets, turn them inside out."

   Then a question: "Do you have anything else on your person?"

   I ask about a handkerchief in my back pocket and have to surrender that.

   "Nothing can be brought in. I'll give it back on the way out."

   "Take your shoes, put them on, and proceed through the door ahead."

   "Take this metal piece with you, Number 13"

   Doing that, I reach another gate. Again

   "click", I go through, "CLANK"

   Another sidewalk, another door, this one open for entrance.

   Another desk, another woman,

   "I'll take your ID, What is your number?"

   "13, OK, move up to the next gate"

   "click……. CLANK"

   Another desk, a man in uniform

   "What is your number?"

   Showing the metal disk, "13".

   "OK, table 13 is right over there, sit down on the left side of it and wait."

   And all of the above is just the security procedure for getting in to see an inmate for an hour on visiting day. At least it was easier getting out after the visit. (and I did get the handkerchief back)

   Security cameras in the room, officers patrolling the area and watching, all to keep some unauthorized behavior from happening.

   As I sat there at #13 waiting on my friend to be fetched from his dorm, I thought about all that security. It was not for me, it may have been partly for the inmates, but mostly it seemed to be for the officers and staff of the facility. If illegal items could not be brought in from the outside, weapons, drugs, phones or whatever, control over the population would be easier and altercations could be kept to a minimum, thereby giving the prison a good record.

   My security seemed to be a secondary consideration, if at all. I guess they would protect me in case of a problem, but mainly they just did not want me to be the problem.

   I have never felt threatened in the many times I have been behind all those gates, not because of all the procedures and all the men and women around in uniform, but because I know that all of those are not my hope of security, even if they wanted to be.

   No, it is God who is my hope and my security. All the stuff that goes on behind that razor wire is not for me, and I'm glad I don't have to trust in that.

   And I did have a good visit.