Savannah Ghost Hunters

When ladies get together for a weekend, anything can happen; especially when the ladies take a  trip to historic Savannah, Georgia on a ghost hunt.

Our trip was in October and all eight ladies decided we would go ghost hunting in Savannah.  I mean you can't have Halloween without ghosts, right?  We carried a book on Georgia ghost stories to insure we would have a really spooky trip.  Leslie was our designated driver.  Designated because she didn't mind driving the Excursion through Savannah traffic. Cindy, who gets car sick, rode "shotgun" and knitted a cap.  Go figure...

Bernice and Bessie had the middle seats with the a placed saved for Barbara, who was meeting us from Charleston, South Carolina.  Nicole, Kathy, and I were in the back seat.  We were going to have a weekend of fun! We laughed, joked, and talked about the Savannah Ghosts we might see on our tour.  Every trip needs a theme, right?

Barbara met us at the motel and we were ready for Savannah! Savannah would have rolled up the streets had it known we were coming! 

We made our ghost tour reservations for Saturday evening, but we wanted to make sure we could get in the right ghost hunting mood, so we found Bonaventure Cemetery, a place we read about in our ghost book, which is famous for its rich history and ghosts. We took a lot of pictures, but none of them were of ghosts. 

Bonaventure Cemetery sits above the Wilmington River near Savannah.  Bonaventure started out as a elegant plantation back in 1762.  A historically popular destination made even more popular by its inclusion of the statue "Bird Girl" in the novel Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.   It is famous for its folklore and  moss-draped oak trees, and ghosts. We did find out that the "Bird Girl" statue had to be removed for safe keeping.  Below are just two of the graves among the hundreds or thousands at Bonaventure Cemetery.

Children buried together at Bonaventure Cemetery.

Gracie Watson who died at age 5 years.
Bonaventure Cemetery

 Leslie was doing a great job driving through the streets of Savannah.  Then we got lost.  We had what we called "Barbara in a Box," the navigational system in Leslie's phone. Both Barbaras were giving advice.  One from the box and one from the middle seat.  Of course, Cindy was giving instructions as well as the other ladies in the vehicle, me included.  Sometimes we argued with "Barbara in the Box."  How could this unseen lady know where we were in Savannah and then tell us where to go!   

However,  ladies do stop and ask directions unlike men who will drive for hours before they will admit they are lost. We stopped at a station and asked directions.  We were not afraid.  We ladies could handle anything, except directions, that might come our way.  We all had our designer pocketbooks, and they were loaded with all the miscellaneous necessities ladies needed for a weekend of ghost hunting.  Any person brave enough to face eight women with eight filled-to-the-brim designer purses, deserved the outcome.



Dining on River Street

 We woke up bright and early and put on our matching black "PEEK-A-BOO" shirts.  Cindy and Bernice found them and we all had to have one.  We wanted to make sure there was no question as to the purpose of our visit to this historic city.  We again toured the city, enjoyed the rich history of Savannah and ate some wonderful food on River Street.  If you haven't had the opportunity to visit Savannah, plan a trip.  It is a great city with a great history.



Top to bottom:  Leslie, Nicole, Cindy
Kathy, Bessie, Bernice,
 Me, and Barbara


Our ghost tour took us all over Savannah.  We thought we saw a ghost, but only one person on the tour actually had a picture, and even though I couldn't see the image everyone was so excited about, it was still fun.  The camera passed around to everyone on the Old Savannah Ghost Tour trolley, but I think the only person to "see" the ghost was the guy taking the picture, and of course we all got excited about the possibility of being eye witnesses to this paranormal activity.

Spanish Moss hanging from trees.

The trip through Savannah at night with someone else worrying about the traffic and one-way streets was nice.  We learned a lot about the history of Savannah and the driver pointed out many of the historical sites and told us the background of the different houses and parks with a reminder not to bring home Spanish moss from the trees.  They have red bugs or chiggers.  Being natives of Georgia, with South Georgia cousins, we knew about the moss.  Those from out of state needed to know the moss would not be the only thing riding back in their suitcases.

We did learn that there is a special blue paint to use on the houses in Savannah to ward off possible ghosts. It is called "Haint Blue." This blue/green color, or “Haint Blue,”  is to ward off evil spirits. “Haint Blue” paint was first used by African Slaves to secure entry-point into their houses from spirits. It represents water which it is said that "haints" or ghosts will not cross.

Orb in Colonial Cemetery

We also made a stop at the The Colonial Cemetery where the Habersham Family is buried.  We live in the county named for Joseph Habersham, so we took a lot of pictures in hopes of catching an orb or a ghost of Joseph himself.  Cindy and Nicole got several orbs in their pictures. Was it a ghost?  It depends on what you believe.  Even if you aren't a believer in ghosts, it is fun to visit Savannah and ghost hunt during the month of October and near Halloween.

The pictures posted here are from the collection of Nicole and Cindy taken during our weekend in Savannah.




It is me again, Lord, thanking you for family and friends who laugh and play together and enjoy each other's company.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  Get a group together, establish a trip theme, and just have fun! One is never to old to have a weekend of travel to enjoy the companionship of friends and family.

Janet and "The Raven"

My friend, and now cousin by marriage, came to visit the other day.  Long before I met Barry, I knew Janet.  Janet and I went to Piedmont College in Demorest, Georgia together and both majored in English. 

This story is about the summer class we needed in order to graduate.  We had four students who met in the office of the professor.  No air conditioners were turned on back in the summer of 1978 and opened windows were a welcomed relief even it was warm air that circulated.  Thankfully we had the class in the mornings so it was cooler than the afternoon classes.  Okay, I have digressed.

Back to Janet.  The class was southern literature and if any of you are familiar with southern literature you know you study Edgar Allan Poe.  We read Poe stories and of course the famous "The Raven" poem.  Dr. Hodge was giving the poem his best.  After he read the serious and spooky poem, it was time to discuss it.  Janet was very serious when she asked the question, "Have you ever heard a bird speak?  A raven wouldn't be saying 'Never more' like you just read it."  Dr. Hodge ask her how she thinks the bird would or should have said it.  Janet, in her best parrot voice, began saying, "never more, never more, never more." 

Imagine a bird and how quickly they say the phrases they have been taught.  Take a minute and in your best parrot voice say the phrase "never more, never more, never more."  See, it totally loses the meaning Poe wanted to convey in his serious and spooky poem.

Years later I found myself teaching the works of Edgar Allan Poe. Yes, you guessed it.  I could hear Janet and her bird voice saying the phrase over and over again and yes, I just had to tell my students about Janet's serious discussion of "The Raven."

Oh well, one must find fun in education and Janet certainly found it in "The Raven."  I think some of the students I taught after that will always remember Edgar Allan Poe's poem too, maybe not in the way educators would like, but hey, they will remember.

It is me again, Lord, thanking you for allowing us to find humor in our daily life.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  When writing a serious poem, it might not be best to have a bird do the talking.

Bless Be the Tie

I have written about Mama, and Daddy, too.  There is so much more to say about my parents.  I have been so angry at them for dying. It has been five years since Mama passed away on April 19, 2006.  Those five years have taken our whole family on a journey one prays no other person has to take; however, we all must face the death of a loved one.  Some folks face it gracefully, they appear to grieve and move forward; some refuse to accept it and can't move on, while others get angry. 

First let me say I know about the five stages of grief: 1) denial, 2) anger, 3) bargaining, 4) depression, and finally, 5) acceptance.  I don't remember the denial stage when Mama died.  She had been sick for such a long time.  Sometimes during her illness, I felt angry because she was sick.  I prayed for her.  I encouraged her to be strong, but it was as though the mother I knew growing up was not the mother whose frail body was not getting well.  It was as if she refused to get better.  My mama had always been a strong woman and to see her frail was heartbreaking.

The bargaining stage came early on in Mama's illness. "Please, God, make her well.  I know I have not been the perfect daughter, but I will be."  "Please, God, let her get better, we will all help her take better care of herself."  "Please, God, make her comfortable.  Please don't let her suffer."  I'm sure my siblings were praying these same prayers for her.

As time passed and Mama's improvements were in waves, we felt encouraged for short periods of time.  When the doctor gave her only 48 hours, she rallied back.  Thank you, Jesus.  Prayers were answered!  God gave her more time!  She fell and broke her hip.  She almost died again, and again, we all prayed.  God answered.  She was improving.  Mama was given another opportunity.  We were so thankful.  After each time, she was more tired and finally, she didn't have the strength to keep going. Blood clots formed and then moved.  I think Mama felt it was time to go and her prayers for God to take her were answered.  It is easy to overlook the fact that while we were praying for Mama, she may have had a prayer request of  her own.

Great-grandson Jonathan and Daddy at Mama's funeral.

There has been years of depression watching Mama endure the pain of her illness. COPD is painful and she often felt as if she were drowning.  She was on oxygen 24/7 and feared that she might run out when she had to go on a portable to go to the doctor or on a shopping trip when she was able.

I don't know if I have truly accepted my mother's death.  I think about her every day and each day is easier than the day before, but I still have the pain of not being able to ask her to clarify situations or ask her for her advice.  I am not sure that I am over the anger of her leaving too soon, but that was not my choice.  God controls every aspect of our lives, and I am sure He was calling her to come home. I would not be human if I didn't feel the anger, but I do realize that God is in control and He knew her pain.

Our family will never be the same now that our mother and dad have passed away.  How do you heal that pain?  Each of us grieves in our own way.  Each of us has gotten to our own personal stage of the grief process and how we handle that stage and move on is up to the individual person.  God will help us mend the heartbreak each feels. What we need to realize is that each one of us is grieving. 

It is me again, Lord, thanking You for your grace to sustain us through the grieving process.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  Remember that no matter how many members are in a family, each has to deal with grief in his or her way.  We should never judge a person's grief or underestimate the grief process.

Baseball Kisses

Barry and I have enjoyed our visit with our North Carolina grandchildren.  We watched the season opener of the Blue Dogs T-Ball Team.  (An interesting name the team gave themselves; however, when their uniforms came they were blue, but the name "White Sox" is printed on them.  Since none of them can read, they have no idea that the words are not "Blue Dogs." ) Back to the game.  It was Will and Julia's first game of the season.  Julia was first up to bat.  They started in numerical order and she is #2 (She picked the number 2 because she was the second one born.).  Will picked number 5 because that is how old he is now.  So the game started with the players batting in numerical order.  Julia was up to bat.  She hit the ball and ran for first base!  She had reminded me earlier that I was suppose to cheer for her.  Of course, what she didn't know was that this proud Nanny was going to do that anyway.  There is a feeling of pride when you see your baseball player at bat.

When it was Will's turn to bat, he was excited.  His coach told him that he was "hot dogging" it and that if he continued, he would miss the ball.  Will was showing all the confidence in the world and I'm sure he envisioned himself as a great batter ready to "let the meat hit the ball."  After several misses, Will decided to quit "hot dogging" and "let the meat hit the ball."  The ball went straight toward the pitcher's mound and Will ran to first.

The game was a tough one with the opposing team showing the same aptitude as the Blue Dogs.  Each took his or her turn to bat and had the opportunity to run to first base.  Sometimes the player would forget he or she was the person on base and would run out after the ball when the next batter hit it.  This was a learning experience for each team, their parents. and grandparents in the stands.

Each player of both teams had the opportunity to bat.  When it came Julia's second time around, she approached the home base with confidence.  Will yelled encouraging words to her as she stepped up to the plate.  She put the bat on her shoulder, then turned toward Will and blew him a kiss.  Maybe the major league players should adopt blowing kisses as a way to encourage each other.  Oh, well, it was just an idea.  I guess it works better for five year old's than it would in the major league.

Will loves to catch the ball.  Well actually none of them really catch it, they all run after it--at the same time--and this can prove to be a real head banger.  They take it in stride and go back to their places on the field.  The coach has taught them how to bend their knees and hold their gloves like real baseball players do when they are ready to catch the ball.  Picture these miniature players in their cool uniforms, baseball caps, bent down with their ball mitt in their tiny hands just waiting for the crack of the bat as the ball takes off the T-stand.  They are looking at their parents for approval and sometimes have to be reminded to keep their eye on the ball.

We have the second game on Thursday.  It will be another interesting game being played for four and five year old's.  Julia gladly let a teammate have her turn on first base when he cried at the first game.  She told him she would take the next turn.  Will is working on not getting angry when he misses the ball and another teammate gets to it first.  The team is a work in progress.

What do adults learn from watching a T-ball game?  We learn that it doesn't matter whose turn it is to bat, I can wait for mine.  We learn that if a friend is on the other team, we cheer him on too.  We learn that it is just a game and it doesn't matter who wins, it was fun to play.

It is me again, Lord, thanking you for the opportunity to watch a T-Ball game where children come with no expectations of doing any thing more than having fun with another group of children.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  Enjoy life's lessons from a child's point of view.  It looks a lot different from their perspective.