First African Baptist Church, Savannah, GA

First African Baptist Church, Savannah, GA

“THE FIRST AFRICAN BAPTIST CHURCH OF NORTH AMERICA

THE OLDEST BLACK CONGREGATION IN NORTHA AMERICA BEGAN IN 1773.  MAY 20, 1775 THE CHURCH WAS BORN WITH REV. GEORGE LEILE AS ITS PASTOR, AND CONSTITUTED JANUARY 20, 1788 WITH REV. ANDREW BRYAN, PASTOR.”

TO THE GLORY OF GOD

“TO THE GLORY OF GOD

 THIS BUILDING WAS ERECTED IN 1859 BY THE MEMBERS OF THE CONGREGATION DOING THE WORK THEMSELVES.  IT IS RATED EXCELLENT IN ARCHITECTURE AND LISTED IN THE NATIONAL REGISTER OF HISTORIC PLACES.

THIS IS THE FIRST BUILDING CONSTRUCTED OF BRICK IN THE STATE OF GEORGIA OWNED BY BLACKS.”

First African Baptist Church

This photo was taken across the street in Franklin Square.  It was not possible to get the entire church with the steeple in one photo.  So here’s a shot of the steeple…

The steeple framed by live oaks

The church is a large building.  There’s a set of steps that frame each side of the entry.  The plaques are at the top of the steps.  Here’s a shot of the steps.  A young boy was there along with his parents with a baby in a stroller.  His parents kept telling him not to get in the photo, but I told them it didn’t matter, he was fine.  He wasn’t moving anyway.

There was once a gate here. The hardware is still attached.

On the wall directly over the little boy’s head is an area with missing stucco that exposes the old brick. 

Old brick exposed

We strolled along the side of the church and found the first azalea in bloom.

Hello spring!

Around the back of the church was a parking lot.  A lady was putting a sign at the entrance of the lot about parking and how much it would cost.  We stopped to chat, and I told her that we were interested in the church because at one time a man named Brister Lawton was a reverend there, perhaps in 1850.  She had heard the name, but did not know his history.

The back of the church

The side of the church as we circle around.

Parking will cost you.

If you want to call these folks at the church, you can use the phone numbers on this sign.  Just add *912* in front for the area code.

Add *912*

Tour information

Photography is not allowed in the church.  And I couldn’t reach the windows with the camera, so no pictures were taken through the window.  And the front doors were locked.  Solid.  But still a good day.

Insanity, Part II

Term paper in Production & Operations Management – Finished (almost – in process of converting Word & Excel documents into Power Point – to be submitted online)

Final of same – to be taken online later this week

Homework of same – don’t even

Term paper in Organizational Management – Started – Due next Saturday

Final in Organizational Management – It’s a participatory discussion final online  – awesome!  Started!  Almost finished!

Homework in the Same – 😦

Laundry – done

Fed & watered at the cat station – Done!  Even cleaned a little.

Good enough for horseshoes and handgrenades.

So What WAS I Thinking??

I started writing this little bloggety-blog in July of last year.  If anyone is traveling back in time to read this, that means July 2009.  I was taking a class in Information Technology, and one of the homework assignments was to develop a blog AND a website all at once, due in 7 days thankyouverymuch.  And I did it.

It’s been fun to post pictures and such, and believe me, I would like to be a full-time blogger, if I were independently wealthy or if someone would like to just throw money at me.  The last few weeks have been kicking my butt, so to speak.  I have one more week of classes of the Spring I Term, then I jump right into Spring II Term.  O the joy.  So within the next week, I have to accomplish these things:

1.  Term paper in Organizational Behavior (not started yet)

2.  Term paper in Production and Operations Management (not started yet)

3.  Study for final in Organizational Behavior (guess what)

4.  Study for final in Production and Operations Management (you guessed correctly)

5.  Homework in Organizational Behavior (don’t even go there)

6.  Homework in Production and Operations Management (ditto)

7.  Study for midterm in Spanish I (hola!)

8.  Work 45+ hours at full-time job (feet.  hurting.)

9.  Work 5 hours at part-time job (maybe they will fire me.  fat chance.)

10.  Feed dogs, cats, ferals, guinea pig, and gerbil (and self)

11.  Laundry (nuff said)

12.  Go to class on Saturday all day and Tues/Thurs nights (car drives itself now)

But here’s what I really want to do.  On Sunday, my day of rest, I want to go see Miz Florrie.  I have not seen her since before Christmas, and I missed her birthday on February 2nd.  I met her granddaughter Rose online thru ancestry.com just last week.  Rose’s father Bill was Miz Florrie’s son, but he’s deceased now, and Rose wants to know more about him, and maybe get some pictures.  So I really want to take my laptop and scanner and go to Miz Florrie’s and scan pictures.  Like soon.  I’m afraid she’s going to die on me, although she’s not ill.  She called me this morning to see HOW I WAS DOING.  When I saw the caller ID, I was afraid that someone was calling me to tell me that she was gone.  But she was checking on ME.

If anyone wants to write the term papers for me, they need to be 3000-4000 words long.

You Just Gotta Wonder, 1957

The mom, the BigBroSteve, and YoursTruly

This picture was taken at Grandma Packett’s.  It appears, of course, to be Easter, with the Bro wearing a suit, and Mom dressed for church.  But what’s the look on her long-suffering face about?  And where’s Dad headed?  Did someone have a disagreement?

Don’t Be Fooled by the New Surveillance Cameras!

In an ever-tightening economy, some mom-and-pop stores are resorting to cutting corners where possible.  Crime reports are reflecting more break-ins, and the stores are installing a new type of security camera that is cheaper than the standard security cameras now on the market.    This new system is so unobtrusive that the intruder usually looks right at the camera, thus allowing the camera to record a full-face shot.  I hope to be selling a few of these systems myself, so contact me immediately if you are interested.  These should sell like hotcats… errrr… I mean, hotcakes.

The Return of Marcellene

Two weeks ago, we found our heroine Marcellene trapped in a humane cat trap after her date at the cat dormitory. She was then whisked away to the veterinarian who performed a spay surgery on her. She stayed at the vet’s office while she recuperated, pouting in a stainless steel condo. I planned to take her home at the end of the work week, but it had been raining furiously that Friday all day, so she spent one more night at the vet’s office.
On Saturday after class, I went to the vet’s office to get her. I have a feral cat handling tool that I use when the feral is recuperating at the vet’s office. I take a medium-sized box, large enough for them to curl up inside. I tape the top and bottom shut, usually using packing tape or duct tape. When the box is sitting upright, I make a few incisions in one lower corner of the box, and create a little hinged door with the hinge at the top. I bend the flap open and up and tape it securely to the box. This gives the feral a place to hide while recuperating, and then when it’s time to release them, I tape the door closed, and transport them in the securely taped-up box. That has been the plan and method that has served me time and again, but that was the pre-Marcellene method.
I taped Ms. Marcellene’s box, with her inside, using the prescribed method, and then carried her box gingerly to the car. We set out for Resurrection.
The box sat securely in the back of the car for the first few minutes. Then I heard scratching on cardboard. Coming from INSIDE the box. I looked in the rear-view mirror and the box levitated. Did that really happen? I looked behind me and saw the box rocking, the furious cat ripping and tearing at the cardboard in an effort to escape.
I started singing, low and nervously, and my pitch got higher and higher as the box rocked and pitched. Music was not going to soothe this savage beast. I was almost halfway home, and I heard panting and the box stopped moving. Good! She was tired and I’d be able to get her home without further ado. Wrong.
I looked in the rear view mirror and saw a gray fur shape behind the box. She was out and moving around. My singing became a monotone chant. Stay back there, please Marcellene, stay back there, please Marcellene. She moved toward the front of the car. She got as far as the console, and then dived under a styrofoam ice chest.
I pulled into the driveway, and shut off the engine. When I went to the back of the car and opened the hatch, I saw this:

The scene of the crime

The clever girl had pulled the cardboard flaps from the inside until she could stick her little paw out and rip a bigger hole.

She was still hiding in the car and wouldn’t run out the open back hatch, even when I stood to one side.  So I opened the driver’s door.  Nope, no good, but Sylvia came along and got in the car.  Great.  Now I have two crazy cats in the car.

I opened the passenger side but couldn’t find Marcellene in the back seat floorboard.  I pushed at the styrofoam chest and saw her fur.

Where's Waldo?

Help. Me.

I took a stick and lifted the cooler a bit.  She didn’t budge but stared harder at me.

Marcellene: "The cats in the hood will never believe me."

Finally, I rattled the cooler with the stick, and she shot out the hatch.  Sylvia looked up as if to say, “What is wrong with kids today?”

I'm outta here.

Marcellene hustled down the road.  I didn’t see her again for several days, but she’s okay and back in the hood.

Once a streetwalker, always a streetwalker.

My Blank In Snow, 2010

My Car In Snow

The above picture was taken from the steps of my plantation RV, as opposed to plantation house.  The snow is melting away rapidly since the temperature has just crested 32 degrees.  Last night about 8 PM I glanced outside and everything was white with snow.  I couldn’t believe how quickly it happened.  I sit at the the RV mini-table that is attached to the wall when I’m working on the laptop, and last night I was concentrating on school work.  Inventory theory takes on new meaning when you have actually done inventory.  But… anyway… I looked up from inventory theory and behold.. a chilly white layer of snow.  Real snow. 

My Shed In Snow

The next photo is also taken from the steps of the RV.  You can see the awning at the top of the picture.  Last night when I opened the RV door, the top of the door scraped against the awning.  The awning was heavy with the weight of the snow, and I fear for the life of the awning.  It already has a massive tear in it that happened early on here at the Swamped! Plantation & TreeHugging Adventure in 2008, when Mr. Tree decided to drop a 10′ limb right into my awning.  There are lots more little holes in the awning, which is good for ventilation, but not so good for rain protection.

And now, a gratuitous awning picture from last year….

Mr. Tree Limb was here

Best Laid Plans

About a month ago, I was heading to work in the early morning.  A dog was heading in my direction, trotting along towards me on the road near the RV trailer park and stray cat naming facility at the Swamped! plantation.  He was a shaggy fellow, and he traveled with an air of hopeful purpose.  I had never seen him before, but I recognized the look of a homeless stray being driven to stay in motion, moving, always moving in search of food.  There was a bowl of food outside my gate, and perhaps he would continue on until he reached my road and found the bowl.  He looked wary and weary.

The road from my crappy little town to my place travels west.  You turn right onto a secondary road, then left onto Resurrection.  On the southwest corner of the intersection of the main road and the secondary road is a church, a little local church called Saint John African Methodist Episcopal Church.  It’s an active church, with Sunday morning services lasting well until 2 PM, Sunday evening services, and then Wednesday night prayer meeting.  When I’m on my way to my evening class, I cross over the main road, headed south for another rural intersection that is part of the labyrinth path that ends up at the university.  I drive by the church both going and coming. 

The week after I saw the dog, I was headed to class.  It was already dark out, and the security lights were on around the church.  I saw a dark shape curled up on the porch of the church, and I realized that the dog, that very dog I had only seen once, was using the porch of the church as a refuge.  It felt peaceful and sad all at once. 

The following week I was headed home from work early.  The new vet and his wife the bean counter had taken over the practice, and she offered for someone to leave work early since the appointments were finished for the day.  I was exhausted, and only hoped that I could stay awake and on the road long enough to reach home.  I headed west from town to home on the main road, and when I got to the intersection, I saw the animal control van pulled into the church yard.  The animal control officer was loading tranquilizer cartridges into her rifle.  Mr. Dog was curled up in front of the church.

Our friend Mr. Homeless

I pulled in the lot, unaware that I was about to befuddle a plan.  I talked to the officer, who had already put food out for the dog.  She said that he had a wound under his eye.  She scoffed at my comment that I had set a humane trap for him by saying, “You can’t trap that dog.  He’s too wary.”  I took a couple of pictures, and Mr. Dog became agitated and got up to leave.

Leaving now

He trotted off toward the graveyard.  The officer put out more food, and I headed home.

I saw the officer today, and asked if she had gotten the dog.  She gave me a stare, and said that, no, she couldn’t get a shot on him because he headed off in the opposite direction and she hadn’t seen him again.  I got the message.

However, there was a lot of traffic on the road that afternoon.  A person loading a gun would make me go in the opposite direction.  I suppose it didn’t help that my camera had a flash on it that got his attention.  So perhaps Mr. Dog has taken up somewhere he is getting food.

Perhaps.

My Home in Snow, 1965-66, with Extra Comment

Yesterday’s post had a picture of the house where I grew up.  If you look closely at the picture, you see that the date stamp is August 1966.  But the picture is a snowy one.  August – snow – what gives?

We were raised in a home where both parents had experienced the Great Depression.  Things lasted a long time.  We got our money’s worth from a roll of film.  Things weren’t wasted.  If you had seen my father’s shed, you would have seen what looked like a collection of the ages.  There were jars with small bits of hardware, screws, nuts, bolts, you name it.  There were odd pieces of equipment and metal parts.  Tools and things of every sort.  And my mother was the same.

Thanks to Mom for saving all these pictures!

My Home In Snow, 1965-66

The East Side

This photo differs a bit from the one posted yesterday.  My mother at one point was all about storm windows.  She finally got her wish. 

Barely visible to the right of the photo is the bumper of a car.  I think this might be the Desoto, the most embarrassing vehicle that any young girl had to ride in.  It was all hump-backed-looking, a gray behemoth on wheels.  The worst part was that the back doors opened the wrong way.  When mom dropped us off at elementary school, I remember getting out of the back seat as fast as possible and closing the door quickquickquickly so that maybe nobody would notice that the back doors were completely wrong and mortifying.  That tactic fooled no one. 

The Desoto is parked under a pine tree.  My father said that it was just a field pine, but I thought that it was a wonderful tree.  Our swingset was under this tree, and then later when the swingset was no more, I made a swing out of a board with a hole drilled through the middle for the single rope to pass through.  The rope end that went through the hole was tied off into a giant overhand knot, and the other end was tied to a stout branch.  I spent many happy hours on that, the best swing in the world.