Thanksgiving Through the Ages Part I:

Atlanta has become so internationally chic and the formerly strict southern city that was once only viewed in terms of black and white is now a multi-cultural rainbow of illegal imports. While stopping into the local McDonalds for a restroom break I was immediately enveloped by many numerous foreign tongues. I suppose it has something to do with that airport trucking them in by the airbus loads. My parents had planned a pressing art filled activity agenda with no time to waste and thus began the Atlanta Tour Through the Ages.

First on the list backtracking in time to prehistory and backtracking a hundred miles or so to the famed and wondrous, Callaway Gardens. My childhood friend Lou Ann Pittman would respond when presented with my summer schedule of fabulous vacation destinations like Disney World with her usual, “Well we’re going to Callaway Gardens AND Delta Village…they say Delta Village is bigger and better than ever.” It made her feel superior.


















The fabled gardens of which she spoke were not exactly what I expected. Envisioning lush manicured formal gardens, I was presented with a mountain forest. Could this be the same Callaway Gardens that immediately brings to mind petticoated southern maidens running down grassy hillsides with parasols? You live and learn. The staff of Callaway is entirely populated by lesbians and not just everyday ordinary lesbians but the earthy variety that circulate incoherent directions and spurious misinformation.



















Three items on the list of must see Callaway experiences were the Butterfly Conservatory, the Birds of Prey exhibit, and lastly the holiday themed Fantasy in Lights display to be taken by tram.







































































The butterfly atrium was a humid habitat filled with tropical plants and a variety of enormous butterfly specimens. Capturing them with a camera was a challenge and it was then that I realized why scientist do it, much easier to stab them with a pin and marvel later under magnifying glass.






































































































Birds of Prey was a thrilling experience conducted again by lesbians armed with a flat script and clumsy attempts at humor. The stage is not the environment for these gals however it was for the birds. A showoff ham of a hawk flew out on cue did his little tricks of swooping over the audience eating his reward then returning to his cage with the assurance of a seasoned professional.



















The other birds were pretty good also but Wow was that hawk really good he stole the show. He should be a star not working these sideshow gigs. He needs better representation. He needs better management. The talent surrounding him was not of his caliber.



















We learned that Callaway Gardens had not always been the beautiful environment that we saw around us. It was planted only fifty years ago. Before that the rocky mountaintop was planted with cotton fields. Spending my childhood in Mississippi and summers in Natchez where cotton was king I can’t imagine trying to eek out a living growing such a crop in such harsh conditions.



















While driving through the park we noticed the little wire outlines of teddy bears and geese wrapped with lights that surely was to be our Fantasy in Lights tram driven attraction. It was cold up on Walton Mountain and didn’t relish the thought so we skipped it. Night John Boy.























Sensible suit, sturdy shoes, Doberman Pinscher, more evidence of lesbic activity at Callaway Gardens.