Save Hannah! Save Hannah!

(My name is Forrest Gump. People call me Forrest Gump.)


Last week I loaded up the truck and headed south to Savannah for the 15th annual British Commonwealth and Postcolonial Studies conference. I took my mommy with me. The drive wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be (I’ve never driven 6+ straight hours before) and we arrived in Savannah around 4 in the afternoon. And that’s counting every rest stop Mother Dearest insisted we stop at. (She claims that when you get older, stopping is more of a necessity. Personally I think she just wanted the free travel pamphlets.) Back to Savannah—gorgeous. Stunning really. But I didn’t notice that the first night. I was exhausted when we arrived. You wouldn’t think sitting for so long would be tiring, but I was beat. Our hotel was more in the 15-501 part of Savannah. Businesses, shops, restaurants, etc… The next morning was the conference and I was up at a yawn inducing 6am. I left my mom half snoring, half watching the weather channel, grabbed my map and headed towards the Coastal Georgia Center. Straight on Abercorn. Suddenly I was in glorious homes and Spanish moss laden live oaks heaven. The street was breathtaking. Trees bent so low over the road that warning signs were posted for trucks to stay in the left lanes. I adore these massive trees. Oddly, at least for me, among these ancient beauties stood palm trees, which seemed a bit pompous and arrogant next the majestic oaks. I arrived at the Center, managed to get in a line for a plumbing convention (picture beer bellies, tool belts and me…), found the RIGHT line, signed in, bought a book, looked over my paper, went in lecture hall, met my other panelists, was surprised by Dr. Deena who came in to hear me present, presented my paper, and diddy bopped out of there back to the hotel. Tour time!! Tour time was also the start of rain time. It bloody poured all of Saturday—my only full day in Savannah. I was a little upset, but I survived. Mother, who has a slightly different idea of the perfect way to tour a city, wanted to do a trolley tour. It was raining and she was real excited so I agreed. I didn’t know there’d be stickers to wear… I refused to wear the sticker and joked on my mom so much that she eventually removed her’s. The trolley wasn’t bad and, though it pains me to say so, probably the best way to see the city on a very rainy day. Sunday morning I insisted we go back. The sun was shining and I wanted to take pictures. I got to do Savannah, at least for a couple of hours, the way I wanted to. I was back in Gates County in time to see Grey’s Anatomy because that’s how I roll.

"Secret's in the sauce"

**the title of this entry comes from a myth on the origin of the name Savannah. A woman named Hannah jumped in the river and started swimming after the ship her beloved was on. She couldn’t really swim and townspeople stood on the banks screaming “Save Hannah, Savannah” Totally untrue. The city was named because Oglethorpe (a wonderful guy who outlawed alcohol, slavery, lawyers, and catholics and went back to England after about a decade because the colony was thought a failure. He never returned. Sad story, really) called it what it was, a savanna.

(Sorry, no white feathers falling when I took this picture)