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Jesup, Georgia 31545

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

75

Pieces of a giant puzzle make up your sense of place

Imagine youre grabbing a 10-foot strip of Velcro and ripping it apart. If you tried to rip my soul from Wayne County, youd hear that same angry no, violentrrrrrrrrriiiiipping sound. And no matter where I am in the world, I always feel connected to home. Growing up here gave me a sense of place. Even though the globe seems to spin faster, I have no trouble tapping on the brakes and reflecting. My mind always goes back to these 440,000 acres that are sandwiched between the Altamaha and Satilla rivers. As much as I love Southeast Georgias woods and waters, I love its people even more. Its as if each of you snapped a piece into my puzzle, giving me an inseparable sense of place. Theres so much to tell, but here are some of the pieces: The Ritch-Leaphart Hospital is gone, but I can stand on that corner of Cherry and Macon streets and know where Dr. Alvin Leaphart helped me gasp for my first breath. Dr. T.G. Ritchs son-in-law, Jimmy Sullivan, let me work in his mens store. I spent every dime that I made at S&R, filling my closet. The Gant shirts are gone, but not his admonition: Give all you can, but you cant out-give God. Dr. Lanier Harrell once brought his black bag into our tiny home on the corner of Younce and Bamboo streets.

My Opinion

He took down his shingle years ago. But nowadays I go to see him. Wise doesnt come close to describing DINK his counsel, NeSMITH as a friend Chairman and confidant. Hubert Howard and I connected when he was my Sunday school teacher. And when I started my career, he became my attorney. He, too, has retired, but he still takes my calls. His sage advice has been priceless. I enjoy his wry humor, too. Hubert once told me, There are four things that will get you killed in South Georgia: liquor, landlines, dogs and women. As I click the keys of my computer, I can hear the clicking of Peachy Aspinwalls stiletto heels in the halls of Wayne County High School. She let me move from a Royal manual to an electric IBM typewriter, and my fingers have been flying ever since. Tom and Sara James were the Mantle and Maris of Orange Street Elementary. He taught me that theres a pal in your principal. And she taught me how to hold a

Louisville Slugger and how to slide into second, besides the traditional fifth-grade curriculum. Football coaches Clint Madray and Ben Park put hairs on my chest and scars on my skinny frame, as I evolved into a man on their sweat-soaked gridiron. (Actually, I think Paul Jet Conner is responsible for most of the scars.) When I think I cant go anymoreno matter what Im doingI can hear Coach Madray growl, Even a dead man has one more step! When I see Nannelle Bacon, I am certain she will ask, Have you got your homework? I am always proud to report, Yes maam, I do. In English composition, Jackie Egan opened my mind to find words that I didnt know were there. It wasnt C.W. Collins fault that I couldnt learn algebra, but I enjoyed every moment in his class. And if you were in the joint homeroom of Johnnie Hayes and Kathleen Hires, you were on the 50-yard line of what was happening at WCHS. I can still hear Principal C.E. Bacon, on the intercom, announcing: I know who you are. Turn yourself in. You will be dealt with accordingly. Oh, my. There are too many pieces in this jigsaw puzzle for one sitting. Thats why Ill have to get back on it. Next time.
dnesmith@cninewspapers.com