Our buddy Bobby says "yes, Mam," "no, sir," and treats everyone, including misplaced Yankees, with respect and honor.
He loves his Mama, his wife and his son. As a photo journalist, he speaks candidly of the foibles and problems of local government, but will drop his photo lens before recording an image that would cause a family pain. Every one of his beloved dogs has a "rescued" story behind it.
In short, Bobby is the kind of guy you'd always pick first for your team. My husband puts him on his very short list of "good guys."
My ear is tuned to the Southern slant and specific word choice in his tales, always making me wish I had a notebook handy to capture the odd poetry.
He's as proud of his South Georgia roots as I am of my native Western New York.
Bobby warned us we were going to redneckville when our families went up the coast to a rural shrimp fleet blessing yesterday. But we didn't travel 20 miles, it was more like 50 years.
The first boat in the blessing proudly flew several Confederate flags including the old stars and bars Confederate flag, the officially defunct stars and bars Georgia flag, the current Alabama flag and Mississippi stars and bars. A big sign on the boat boasted an 800 number for "Southern heritage" and crew Harleys in the parking lot had smaller flags of the same stripe flying from their handlebars.
Too many on the shore, with the requisite tooth deficit and bib jeans, cheered or removed their gimme caps as the ship passed, oblivious to the Black children playing within a few yards. The pasty, shirtless crew whooped, hollered and pounded their chests as they passed near the bridge for blessing. The priest was saying the right words from the bridge, but the scene on the water was feral and ugly, a showy denial of progress or change.
I reminded my husband that this was why it was time to move from this area.
But Bobby, and other good friends we've made here, remind us why it was a good choice to come here.
The battle for the future between his son and the sons of the drunken pirates on the boat will sadly continue long after we've left.
A state that ditched a good governor over his dismissal of a flag fraught with pain and shame (Georgia returned to the confederate emblem not after the Civil War, but during desegregation) can't be bothered with the education and economic issues that mortgage their children's future.
It's not a price most people would expect to pay into the new century, but the currency of progress is squandered every day.


Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs