Deliverance

December 4th, 2009

Route 53 winds and bends through Dawsonville GA. On a dark night after a rain, patches of fog nest in the low lying curves making navigation treacherous. Gullies and ditches line the edges of this route and shoulders are nearly nonexistent. There is little room for error, and blinking is not allowed.

Years ago when this road was cut, farmers were hard pressed to give up any of their land to make it straight and now everyone has to live with it. It is by far one of the most dangerous roads in Northern Georgia. But not everyone feels that way. Last night when I was cruising along at 30 miles per hour hunched up over the steering wheel for a better view, a local, it had to be a local, passes me on a curve with double solid line.

Off this route, Tara lives in a magnificent two story log cabin in the piney woods not far from the Amicolola River, the famous river where the movie Deliverance was shot. The redneck culture still thrives here. They hunt, they snort, they drink their beers and they go to the local Baptist church on Sunday. Tara is a misfit.

Back in the early 80’s I met Ms. Tara Van Meter at the door of her Kinderhook farmhouse in NY. I said I wanted to study stained glass and she invited me to show up at her house with my tools. I arrived with a humble shoebox touting my glasscutter, pliers, soldering gun, copper foil and flux. She opened the door and stood there leaning on a crutch with a cast on her leg and said “Don’t just stand there staring, come in.”

Smugly she made a pot of tea and around her wood-burning stove interviewed me about my intentions. There we were, Tara, an oversized character who had made it into the prestigious Rhinebeck Craft Fair and me, a dabbling craftsperson seeking more instruction. I sat through a couple hours of intimidating conversation about a world I knew little about. This was our humble begin to a lifetime of connection.

I am grateful to be off the road, resting and walking. Georgia does have something that I did not find in Florida, HILLS. Yes, hills with pine-scented woodsy paths and squirrels and earth that squishes under your feet; hills with meandering creeks and rotting logs; green hills with views and meadows and fallen leaves. Somewhere deep inside my chest, I remember and embrace a familiar love for a gentle countryside.

Tomorrow I leave for Campabello, SC to spend a couple nights with my eldest brother Dick.