ARTS & FARCES internet

My wife Karen and I returned to Atlanta for the first time in many years last week and I realized—almost immediately, while driving through midtown—how much I miss the US South in general and Atlanta in particular. We went down for my niece’s wedding in Buckhead and reception in Brookhaven. I lived in Atlanta from 1969-72 and 50 miles west of the city from 1972-82 (except for a stint from 1976-78).

On a tight schedule, we didn’t get outside of Buckhead and Brookhaven, unfortunately. Driving in from the airport, I didn’t dare venture any further on the downtown connector than the downtown Peachtree Street exit. As I found out later, the downtown connector north of midtown has completely changed. Even a new freeway has been added. The core of midtown has always been the Fox Theatre for me. From the Fox to 10th, midtown hasn’t changed very much except for the names of the banks and law firms. Once we got to Buckhead though, I was completely lost. Everything had changed. Everything. Except one of my old hangouts, Dante’s Down the Hatch. But even Dante’s looked, somehow, different. It was smaller than I remember, diminished even.

And oh, the sweet tea and food: butter biscuits, shrimp and grits, and chicken and waffles. Chicken and waffles actually originates in Harlem, but it’s been a staple in Atlanta for as long as I can remember. Truth be told, I don’t remember shrimp and grits at all, but now it’s a big thing. But you have to use Callaway Gardens grits.

Fresh crab that couldn’t be beat, but I would have traded it all for a plate of Jackson Bar-b-que, a side of butter beans, and two of Papa Pete’s biscuits (Papa Pete passed the recipe on to Terry who passed it on to Jerry who still makes the originals, so far as I know). Or anything from Mary Mac’s tea room. It’s one of Atlanta’s original tea rooms and it’s still there.

Butter beans are a funny thing. Northerners think they’re lima beans, but they’re not. They’re yellow, not green, for starters. And they taste nothing like icky lima beans. They’re butter beans and I don’t know why you can’t get them up here.

It was great to see my sister, brother-in-law, niece, and nephew. I’ve never seen my niece so happy, my nephew so mature, or my sister and brother-in-law so proud. When I first saw my nephew I thought I was looking in a time warp mirror and told my sister that she was in for it. Turned out, she was. But Mack’s turned into a fine young man after a few bumps. My niece Blair always knew exactly what she wanted and how she was going to get it. She left home for dance school as a 13- or 14-year-old and never looked back. Both kids knew exactly where the line was: Blair would step across it from time to time with one foot; Mack would jump, eyes wide open, as far as he could across it. My sister and her family are as fully functional as our family was dysfunctional growing up.

So yeah, I miss the US South and maybe—just maybe—I’ll be back to live there some day. Just about the only thing I don’t miss is the regressive politics.