Glimpse of the South

Alabama and Mississippi -- February 19th

Leaving Georgia took a little time, as I had to say good bye to Mik and Amanda and all the Dogs. The second most notable event of the day once I was set into Alabama was the change in time zone. You see Mikey had alerted me to the fact it would happen a bit before Auburn U, but had my phone not been going crazy for some reason I am still not sure of- I actually saw the time change on my phone and all of the sudden it was a little before I had left that morning. Or maybe the phone was just excited about the time change and chose to go crazy to ensure I wouldn't miss it. I feel like time changes and state lines are important things to note on road trips.

speaking of rambling...

Now at this point I was also facing needing to cross Alabama and Mississippi for the longest day of driving so far. But you see I was going down through Montgomery, so I figured why not add on a little more time and go to Selma. The other big news of the day, was that I had started Nelson Mandela's autobiography on tape. And the juxtaposition makes a pretty convincing argument.

So I continued my way through Alabama and listening to Mandela's story made me think of the Wilson family trip to South Africa the winter of my freshman year of high school. This trip is in fact the reason I had the book on tape from my pops. So now I finally know what the family members who read the book before or during the trip were talking about. And when Robin island is describe I could visualize what we had actually seen.

The drive from Montgomery to Selma left my sense somewhat heightened, especially as I listened to race relations in South Africa. "I found to march with one's own people was exhilarating and inspiring." -Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom

I was concerned when I got to Selma I wouldn't recognize the bridge or would have to ask where it was, which would hurt my pride as hadn't I seen enough photos, or known people who had marched, or seen the Jubilee marches on TV. Well in fact driving right over the Bridge makes it incredibly easy to recognize and I easily slide into a parking space at the Voting Rights Museum. The young woman not too much older than me very kindly started me into the museum and was delighted to hear stories of inauguration. I wish I could bring all my friends who are disenchanted with voting or chose not to or believe only the educated should vote to see these histories in our country and especially the south.

Both my parents said it was too bad I hadn't planned a little more to go with family friends that had actually been there or who knew the people at the voting rights museum. I think there a lot of histories I missed on the road through the south, but I am glad I went through Selma.

Now no offense to Alabama. I know great people from Alabama, but it feels about 30 years behind in some places. I don't know if it is just the look of things or some of the more rural roads I was on, but that was my feeling.

Once I got into Mississippi it was about time for another break. So I fulfilled my long time vow with my friend Jesse Gerard to go to Waffle House. I was a good few hours after lunch, and I really did not feel like a waffle. After a man, who seemed like he probably hung out in the waffle house next to the highway entrance ramp a few times a week for at least a few hours day, left- I had the place to myself. Now I don't know if my new friend, the waitress at the Waffle House, was just super excited about my trip and the possibility of traveling or if I was just super excited to talk to someone- but we had a great conversation. Everywhere I go I have been asking about the economy, and other than Greensboro, NC most places I have stopped have been doing alright. Well the girls at the waffle house seemed a little concerned as the waffle house a few miles away in Starkesville was closing and another in Florida. And I mean there are a lot of Waffle Houses in the south, but I guess they are just very popular and don't close. After my grilled cheese sandwich and conversation I got back onto the road and Danny Glover's narration of Mandela's book set me into the late afternoon Mississippi landscape.

It seemed fitting, after a minor fear of no gas stations coming up in time, that The Long Walk to Freedom ended as the colors of sunset were taking on the oranges that you miss running around in a busy city. And as dusk continued I was driving into the Delta. I am not sure if I have ever been anywhere so flat at sunset, where each layer of color rises off the parallel of the land's horizon. And then all of the sudden there wasn't any illumination but my head lights- until I looked up and saw the stars. I really should have parked beside someones farm to stop and really take in all that sky. I didn't know it then, but at no other time on my way to California would I be in such a rural place at night.

However, I had places to be, a car that needed to rest for the night, food to eat, and most importantly wonderful people to see. So i finally pulled into the Green's driveway in time to sit down for dinner. Unfortunately, I totally missed John, a professor at Delta State that has worked with mom for a few years now. He was with a group of students in another part of the state and waiting another day was making getting into New Orleans before Mardi Gras look more challenging. But I did get to see El and their daughter Eyde. And I mean these people have intelligent kids. Eyde talked for bit but then quickly took to reading- probably some encyclopedia in another language even though she is 8. But this gave El and I a chance to talk and I think we could have kept going til dawn. In fact I really think I would be lucky and hope to be like John and El in my 30's.

Cheers,
Hannah

dear Lars,

Today's entry is not going to help catch you up on where I am, it is in fact a tribute or shout out if you will to my brother from the west coast.  I figure its my blog so I can say what matters to me.  On that note:

HAPPY 26th Birthday Lars Hanson!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I hope you have a wonderful adventure this year.  I miss you, but we will celebrate next time I see you.

I hope everyone has a marvelous March 14th!

Cheers!
Hannah

45 minutes in Atlanta

Georgia, February 18th

Everything was working out pretty well for me and I was excited to drive through the mountains on the way to Georgia. After saying goodbye to the Blocks, who I am again truly grateful for meeting along the trip, I headed to Lake Junaluska. Which is also a United Methodist Retreat and as I was coming over a mountain a huge rainbow caught my eye. I ventured around the lake and then headed through the mountains and into the fog. Hours of fog in fact. It was lovely and in fact I think all the other driving has been on sunny days so far, so why not have to do a little extra concentrating.

On this drive Becca, my godsister, called me from a train in India. I was incredibly amused at the fact from the other side of the world we could be talking and somehow in our sorted locations both had that brief time with service. I enjoyed chugging along. Tried to stop at another Winery to get a Georgia one of my list, but alas they were not open on a Wednesday.

While I enjoyed the stops, I was also trying to make it through so I could get to Atlanta and have time to leave by 3:30pm so I wouldn't be caught in the bad traffic on my way to Columbus for the night. I made a few more detours, including trying to stop and see a powerful waterfall. However due to the fog the only inclination I had that there was a huge waterfall in front of my was the sound.

By the time I got to Atlanta and finally through the fog, it was 2:45. So what does one do with 45 minutes in Atlanta. I decided to go by the MLK memorial, which I had last seen as a kid when in Atlanta for a wedding with my family. The only thing I vividly remember from that trip was seeing the grave in the middle of a pool. This time was striking to me, because as I walked up now Coretta Scott King is also there. And it was actually a very powerful moment for me, being taken by the change and watching a young girl taking photos there.

By the time I left I had about 15-20 minutes left in Atlanta so I headed to the Carter Library located very close by. As i drove up I called my boss from AU, because we had been trying to track down two alumni that work for the Carter Center while I was still working in the Peace and Conflict Resolution Office. I decided I didn't have time to spend money on going into the Library, so asked her if she would look up one of the names and I would try to stop by the Carter Center and see if this alum was there. I also adore Becca (the boss this time, though I also adore my godsister) and enjoyed catching her up on the trip. So armed with the name I started walking into the main lobby of the Carter Center as a group was coming down the main stairs. And all of the sudden I was face to face with Jimmy Carter, who from ten feet away before I could react waved at me. My camera bag was at my side and I really wanted to say something, but as soon as I had waved back a secret service officer also waved at me, with the implication that he didn't want me to come in any further until they had finished walking through.

45 minutes in Atlanta was going pretty well at this point. So I tried to compose myself and went to the receptionist and asked for the AU alum. she called up and he ended up coming down and meeting there with me on the spot. By the end of the meeting I think I had almost convinced him to come up to DC on his own to visit old friends and then while he was there to come talk at the program I had started while I worked in the office. You see we don't exactly have the funds to fly alumni in for the hour and a half long round table sessions. Very nice meeting there though.

So it ended up being a few more minutes than 45, but I don't think I could have asked for much more with 45 minutes in Atlanta. Serendipitous to say the least, Jimmy Carter! I have new appreciation for Phil Davis asking Bob Wallace for 45 minutes all to himself in White Christmas!

The drive to columbus went very well as I was running on excitement and there was finally sunshine. I stayed with one of my moms friends from childhood, her husband daughter and their five dogs. It was an amazing evening and fun to talk more about mom's hometown and learn more about Mikey's family. Also the five dogs, four of which are larger than me, all had quite the personalities! The evening felt like getting in touch with my roots, evening though I have never lived in New York State, it was nice being around someone who knew mom for so long and the rest of the family. And meeting Amanda and learning more about their family. And if you don't know this about me, I can talk stories all night, so these visits after a day of driving are incredibly precious.

Georgia was pretty alright in my book.

I will continue on the southern adventure later this weekend! (I am actually in San Diego now, safe and sound and full of more stories)

Cheers,
Hannah

interlude unrelated to driving across country

As Some of you know I did an independent study on the poetry of social justice movements. I have included two below that were published online under Bleak House Review at. http://www.bleakhousepublishing.com

I am extremely grateful to the guidance of my professor Robert Johnson who has done wonderful work on prison justice. I know some of you are interested in Prison Justice and he just published a new book called Sunset Sonata.

About Sunset Sonata:

Robert Johnson’s voice resonates like a wise old teacher sharing his simple, worldly wisdom. He speaks about the natural world, the preciousness of life, and about innocence, but also about injustice, loss, human frailties, and the menace of terrorism, withholding nothing.

In spite of global threats, cynicism, loss, and the uncertainty and brevity of life, one can find nourishment and be restored by the words of poets like Robert Johnson who can find beauty and hope in the world.

For more info, this is the publishers site and please pass the word on:
https://www.brandylanepublishers.com/component/page,shop.product_details/category_id,21/flypage,shop.flypage/product_id,77/option,com_virtuemart/Itemid,62/vmcchk,1/





Poetry of Social Justice

Poetry cried out for social justice
before the movement started,
when the movement was challenged,
when the movement was scattered and lost,
when another movement came along.

Poetry exists in the shadows and lonely places of a social justice movement
in the leather journals,
on the paper napkins,
in tear sealed letters,
on the jail cell walls.

Poetry reflects the social justice movements
as the light between injustices,
as the clarity of purpose,
as the witness for the journey,
as the heart's hidden fragments.

Poetry is the cry of social justice movements
whispered by lone voices,
proclaimed to inspire new voices,

shouted over indifferent voices,
sung by a chorus of relentless voices.

Living Definition

define social justice:

do we start with cruelty,

or dignity?

must we characterize power,

or first, deprivation?

should we delineate ethics

or equality?

have we explored who its defined for,

or could it be universal?

do we denote law,

or value?

define social justice:

can you open up a dictionary,

or what about your heart?

will you describe what words designate,

or can you illustrate?

won't you assign something for society,

or for yourself?

is it ascertained for the broken,

or forgotten by your guilt?

do you have a basis to comprehend,

or will you miss our translations?

define social justice:

because your definition must come alive,

or our ink will fade…

Thanks for reading. The poems were in response to some of the works I was looking at. Back to blogging soon. The next one on Georgia is pretty exciting. I am actually in Arizona though and heading to San Diego today marking three weeks on the trip today.

Cheers,

Hannah