The Good Life of Georgia

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Life has been busy and full since Lane’s and my first issue of The Good Life went out. We have celebrated Mother’s Day, and for many excited children and young people, the end of the school year. Many of you have endured the seemingly endless stanzas of “Pomp and Circumstance” as you proudly watched your graduate receive his or her diploma. And in a couple of weeks it will be Dad’s time to be honored. Our lives are filled with traditions and events we have happily celebrated generation after generation.

I was thinking about Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, and how different it is celebrated now, compared to when I was a little girl back in the 40s. Back then, the idea of Father’s Day was being talked about, but wasn’t an official day of celebration, and Mother’s Day was almost like any other Sunday. Eating out at a restaurant was a rarity for my family. Perhaps we would eat out as a family as often as twice a year, and never on Sunday. We lived in rural Georgia, and eating at a restaurant required traveling into the Atlanta area. Back then, most places were closed on Sunday. The most significant thing I remember about that special day was wearing a red rose to church.

We lived on a dirt road in a small rural community called Mountain View, not far from Stone Mountain. We lived next door to my grandparents and my mother’s younger siblings, who were near my age. My aunt, uncle, and three cousins lived up the road a short distance. The church and schoolhouse were located at the end of the road where it intersected with the highway. The church was on one corner, the school across the highway, and a farmhouse was on the other corner. The mode of transportation, for all of us who were old enough to go to school and Sunday School, was walking. On Mother’s Day we always stopped at the farmhouse as we made our way to Sunday School. There was a hedge all the way around the yard, and the entrance to the walkway leading to the front porch of the house had an arch with red roses growing on it. When Mother’s Day rolled around, it was always in full bloom. Mrs. Dodson, the lady of the house, was always waiting there to pick a rose and pin on our dress or shirt in honor of our mothers.

Now, I wear a white flower on those special days, along with a smile, as I remember back to those days of red roses and the carefree childhood days with my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. As we head into the days of summer, I hope there will be many occasions for storing up happy memories with your family and friends.

Gail Lester