Saga of the Cinnamon Schapps

Rena and I packed away the cinnamon schnapps Barbara gave me, along with the rest of my eclipse equipment. Solar viewers. Check. Solar binoculars. Check. Go-Pro camera. Check. Digital SLR. Check. Big ass astronomical binoculars. Check. Big ass tripod for big ass astronomical binoculars. Check. Cinnamon schnapps. Check. Little red shot glasses for filling with cinnamon schnapps. Check.

Our intention was to break out the schnapps as totality approached.

The morning of Monday, August 17 found us in extreme Southwestern North Carolina, near the Georgia border. The evening before, after a meal at the famous Dillard House...

... we had checked out nearby Black Rock Mountain State Park. Black Rock Mountain was where, when I heard the park would be open for viewing at the summit, I planned to watch the eclipse. I had envisioned an open summit like that of nearby Brasstown Bald, but it seemed the entirety of Black Rock Mountain, or what we saw, anyway, was forested. Maybe not, as the above shot from the park's website suggests, but when a ranger told me the entire plan for the eclipse was to open the gates as usual at 7:30 am, allow cars in until the parking capacity was reached, and then lock the gates, I relocated our viewing to nearby Franklin, North Carolina. Our motel was there, anyway. It was a fortunate decision.

I had a wound on my leg that was looking inflamed, so after breakfast on Tuesday, Rena drove me to a walk-in clinic near our motel so I could get it checked. I was quickly in and out with a prescription for antibiotics. Downtown Franklin was filled with people there for the viewing, but the clinic had views so spectacular we decided we would watch from there rather than join the nearby throngs.

As the eclipse started started we set up chairs and our cooler under a tree. The husband of one of the clinic's staff members was already there, waiting for his wife to take her lunch break, and we chatted as the moon increasingly blacked out the sun.

Off to the south-- toward Dillard and Black Rock Mountain-- heavy clouds covered the horizon. The skies above Franklin, however, were clear.

When totality was about fifteen minutes away I went to the car to fetch my binoculars and the bottle of cinnamon schnapps Barbara Whitlow gave me for my birthday. In just the couple of minutes I was away a bank of clouds had condensed overhead and was moving northward toward the sun. It was clear they were going to be a problem. The clinic had closed for the totality and the couple watching with us were hurriedly packing their gear. They were, they said, going to drive northward, toward Cowee, to try to outrun the clouds. Just continue up the road, they said, and turn left on Highway 23.

Rena and I made the decision to follow, and as she went to get the car I dragged our gear to the curb so it would be staged for instant loading. When Rena popped the trunk I piled the gear inside and slammed the trunk and jumped into the passenger seat and we were on our way.

It's a good thing we relocated, as the eclipse was obscured in Franklin. Here's a video from the Asheville Citizen-Times.

There was no traffic on Highway 23. The few cars present were parked and their occupants outside, looking upward. We drove for five minutes at forty miles an hour, and when instinct told me it was time, I hollered "Stop!"

Rena pulled quickly onto the shoulder and we jumped out and looked upward and there was the sun, with only a sliver still visible. We had outpaced the clouds! Our view was, gloriously, unobscured.

Within seconds totality was upon us. Being as we were near the center of the totality zone, we had two minutes and forty-three seconds. Night suddenly fell. The temperature dropped, the planets became visible, and tree frogs and crickets began to chirp. As I looked directly at the sun with my naked eyes (allowable during totality) I could see bats and swallows flitting about in the sky. The corona of the sun was visible, and there was a big black hole in the sky where the sun usually was. It was an eerie and wonderful sight.

Having now seen an eclipse NEAR the zone of totality and an eclipse IN the zone of totality, I have to say that when it comes to solar eclipses, unlike horseshoes and hand grenades, close is NOT good enough.

Then it was over. The sun turned back on, as if with a switch, and within minutes it was daylight again.

Rena and I drove happily away. Only later did I realize that in our scurry we had not touched the schnapps!

I'm saving it for another occasion, I think maybe moon watching on some clear cold New Jersey night. I will think of Barbara when I drink it.

Fisherman's Catch Redux

On my birthday, Rena and I had dinner with two more of my friends at Fisherman's Catch, a family-owned restaurant at 4132 Stone Mountain Highway in Lilburn. (It's on the right, across the street from Krispy Kreme and Home Depot). It's easy to miss, but don't, or you'll be sorry.

The restaurant is slowly phasing out as the owner (who looks rather like Peter Fonda) approaches retirement. The sign above is a bit misleading; currently Tuesdays and Wednesdays have been phased out and Fisherman's Catch is now open only Thursday through Saturday. Thursday is all-you-can-eat crab legs day, so plan accordingly!

Since I neglected to take even a single photo during my visit, I'd like to give credit for the photo to the Food Near Snellville blog.

Since my move to the frozen north I have been seriously deprived of hush puppies and crab legs, and I made up for it by ordering a side of crab legs and an additional six hush puppies. Dinner was fried catfish, with a baked potato and a big salad for sides. It took some doing, but I managed to pass up the appetizer of fried clams. It's only $2.99!

At this point dining at Fisherman's Catch is mostly symbolic, a ritual to perform with Rena, since we have a history of eating there. I know some folks will prefer Red Lobster or Joe's Crab Shack over it, but the seafood there is several years closer to the ocean, and staff have always been attentive, and that works for me.

Sorry, Tommy!

My plan for Friday was to sit at the gazebo and greet people, but it was hot and by the time I rode MARTA and then took a non-air-conditioned cab from Indian Creek Station I was a bit warm, so I sheltered in the home of Barbara Hayes Whitlow. We stopped by the gazebo three or four times, but saw no one there-- which is reasonable, since why would they stay there if they dropped by to see me and I wasn't present.

My apologies to those who did stop by the gazebo, and especially to Tommy Conlon, who posted a photo of the empty gazebo on the Pine Lake FaceBook page. Tommy is one of my very favorite people, and I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to talk with him.

A Visit to Our Fair City

Seeing a solar eclipse from the zone of totality has long been on my bucket list, so the great 2017 eclipse was a great excuse to visit Pine Lake.

I flew early Friday morning (the 18th of August), which happened to be my birthday. By noon I was in the city.

I unloaded my gear at Barbara Whitlow's house and went inside to cool off. After a while Christine Slocomb came over and they took me to Red Chili Cafe, which lives at the site of the former Wendy's at Memorial and Hambrick.

My Friends Barbara Hayes Whitlow (L) and Christine Slocomb

As you might guess from the name, the restaurant has an Asian theme. Barbara and I had one of the daily specials, a catfish curry over rice and cubes of roasted potatoes. It was, no kidding, the best dish I've had in years.

The prices at Red Chili are quite reasonable, and it's a treasure. Certainly it makes much better use of the building than Wendy's ever did.

After lunch Barbara and Christine gave me a tour of Pine Lake, highlighting changes over the past two years. I used my iPhone to take photos and you will shortly be seeing them here.

Back at Barbara's house we had birthday cupcakes and I was presented with a cute birthday card and bottle of cinnamon schnapps to assist with eclipse watching.

Around five pm my friend Rena came to pick me up and she and I left for our eclipse adventure.

I love hanging out with Barbara and Christine and I only regret our friendship formed late in my time at Pine Lake. I wonder if I can persuade them to move to New Jersey.  Hey! We have a lake mere feet from our house and a guest bedroom! C'mon up! And thank you so much for lunch and cupcakes and schnapps and for showing me such a good time!

Stay tuned to this station for the saga of the cinnamon schnapps.

Pine Lake Takes a Courageous Stand

Congratulations, Pine Lake and thank you to Mayor Melanie Hammet and the city council for declaring the city a safe haven for refugees. I am so proud!

Pine Lake Misses Nita Townes

We are all saddened by the recent passing of Juanita (Nita) Townes of Pine Lake. Nita was 89 years old and spent most of her years in Pine Lake. She was there from the earliest days.

Nita always had a smile on her face and had a wonderful sense of humor. She was proud of her garden and was happy to share its bounty.

The Importance of Street Edges

Street Edges-- the areas on either side of a motorway are important for community development. They have a positive effect on businesses and make an area desirable for shopping and strolling.

I would think a rework of the Rockbridge corridor through Pine Lake would be a priority for those wishing to improve the business district. There are, thankfully, sidewalks already, but more is needed.

I just came across this article by Dan Burden. It's comprehensive and well-written with all lingo described fully.

Hogan's Grocery and Pine Lake Post Office

Tim Selby, who has lived in Atlanta for 20 years and had never heard about Pine Lake, chanced across this blog and sent me this great photo of Hogan's Grocery and the old post office building. It's from 1961. Since the post office is still standing, it's easy to tell exactly where Hogan's stood. I had always assumed the grocery was on the other side of Rockbridge Road.

I told Tim he should come visit the town some time. If you should see him and learn his name, please tell him hello and thank him for being so generous with his photograph.

Postscript

Tim tells me

I believe the photo was taken by an urban planner as it was with a collection of other photos that were all taken of the commercial district in the Buckhead area mostly along Peachtree. There were a couple of maps from the City of Atlanta Planning Department dated 1960 that referenced where the photos were taken and many of the photographs were dated from 1960 and 1961. 

There were several that looked like they were taken in rural areas and I had always assumed that they were located farther out on Peachtree Rd.  I was recently looking at them with a magnifying glass and that is when I noticed the Pine Lake post office and looked for it on a map. Maybe the person who took the photo had a home at Pine Lake and was just finishing out the roll of film...or maybe Pine Lake was a planned community and would have been of interest to an urban planner? 

About This Blog

Pine Lake, October, 1965. Photo by Claude Suttle

Since I no longer live in Pine Lake it makes little sense to continue this blog. I will, unless something unexpected which impels me to speak up, no longer be posting here. I will, however, leave the blog up and will be happy to publish any articles or photos people wish to send me.

I love Pine Lake and its people and always will. 

I invite readers to visit my new blog, NO GRITS FOR YOU, which will be about, you guessed it, being a transplant from the South in New Jersey. You won't find much there for a while, but I promise things will soon be zippy. 

Adieu

I am now in residence in New Jersey.

I left Georgia wearing sandals and with the top down on my Miata. I arrived at my new house in six degree temperatures and a howling wind. I almost froze to death unloading my car. Fortunately, I had stopped in Pennsylvania and swapped my sandals for closed-toed shoes.

Heavy snows arrived soon afterward and I became acquainted with rock salt and snow shovels. Happily, the electric snow thrower we ordered from Amazon arrived a few days after the storm and helps us clear our parking pad.

I learned what an ice dam is when our poor roof started looking like a glacier. The ice hasn't yet torn down the gutters or forced water inside the house, but the winter is still young.

The UPack trailer with my belongings was brought in after dark (which I had specifically asked NOT to happen) and knocked down a neighbor's cable line. Police were involved. Although the line was illegally low the police required the trailer to leave and said it would not be allowed in. This meant my goods had be transferred to a U-Haul truck; it took three trips and a lot of work before load-in was complete.

I now own a pair of snow boots and I located my father's Korean-war era floppy-eared field hat and a pair of heavy gloves in my newly-arrived household goods. I am prepared (I hope) for the remainder of the Jersey winter.

It's strange up here. Despite our location in a small town 35 miles from New York City, the people have been the most part impolite, superficial, and indifferent. Grits, cornbread, and hush puppies are not to be found. Movies cost about $15. Groceries are expensive. Property taxes are horrendous, $10,000 per year and up. Big box stores in nearby Bergen county are closed by law on Sundays. Gun laws are draconian (I would go to state prison for 30 years [mandatory sentence]  if I were to be found with a slingshot or BB gun in my car). There are a thousand other strangenesses, not all of which are pleasant. I am, however, here, and here I will remain, ice dams notwithstanding..

Where I'm Going: II: The Outside of the House

Our house doesn't look like much from the outside. It needs sprucing up and something-- we're not certain just what at this early date-- to add drama. A 15-foot tall 1950s-looking rocket? A trebuchet? Battlements? We'll figure it out.

Here's the back side of the house.

Here's the level portion of our yard. Word is Patty Duke once played tennis here.

There's no garage, but there's plenty of parking space. We hope to add a carport this summer.

Where I'm Going: Our New House. I: Inside

The first thing one sees when entering our new house in New Jersey is this beautiful freestanding wooden stair. It leads to two huge rooms-- one 14' x 17', which will be my office, and a huge 17' x 24' room which will  house the biggest television screen we can afford. We are already calling it the media room. Unfortunately, I have no photos of the upstairs.

The huge stone fireplace visible at left, above, opens to a stunning living room with log beams from 1940 (when the house was built) and a vaulted ceiling.

Double doors leading to a mudroom and then outside can be seen at center right, and at center left the back of the stairway can be seen. That's a wood-burning stove on the hearth.

Here's a portion of the mud room.

None of this shows our furniture. These photos are from the real estate listing which led us to the house. The furniture belongs to the previous owner.

The doorless opening on the left, above, leads to the kitchen, and the double-width opening just to the left of the fireplace leads to the dining area. The kitchen and dining areas comprise one big room.

Below is a second view of the kitchen, looking back at the living room.

To the right of the refrigerator is an honest-to-god pantry!

Shown below is about half of the dining area.The other half is visible at upper right in the first photo of the kitchen.

For the past six years Heather had to put up with a skinny side-by-side refrigerator that didn't keep food quite cold enough (and didn't have room enough for much in the first place), so I don't begrudge her choice of this huge Samsung french door fridge. I took the photo above with my cell phone.

My four-year-old much less fancy fridge will remain in my house.

I've been describing the newer portion of the house, which we call the public area. What you'll see next was once a 1940s cabin. There are three bedrooms, two bathrooms (one with a tub and one with a shower), and a walk-in closet. We have appropriated the master bedroom for ourselves. The second largest will be the guest bedroom, and the smallest, which has hardwood floors, will be a music room.

Here's the master bedroom (again, this is not our furniture):

The bath is to the left and the walk-in closet is to the right. There's a second walk-in closet at the top of the stairway to the second floor.

Here's another view of the master bedroom:

Here's the master bath. That wallpaper is butt ugly, isn't it? We will soon be removing or painting over it.

Here's the second bathroom:

This bath looks better (aside from the shower curtain), but the enclosure around the sink is too big, making for a tight sit on the toilet; we will be replacing it with a pedestal sink. The cabinet on the wall (which is hung out of level) will probably also go.

Finally, here's the music room, As you can see, it was once someone's office.

There are not yet photos of the basement or the ridiculously steep and narrow stairs which lead down to it. There are three large rooms with concrete floors and framed walls and a larger fourth area which is begging for a cement floor. When the floor is in we'll have more storage than we will ever need. Thankfully, the basement is dry, with no evidence of having ever flooded. Most of it is above ground level, for the house is built on a hillside, so things should be safe in the basement. Still, I'll be laying down pallets under boxes and large objects.

The basement houses the gas furnace, water heater, electrical boxes, and the mitigation system that was put in when the house tested high for radioactive radon gas. There's a washer and dryer hookup, and a door leads to the outside.

The house has newly-installed central air, but that unit is outside. So, also, is a Generac whole houe standby generator; it comes on automatically when the power goes off. It runs on natural gas, so there will be no need to add fuel.

This concludes the tour of the inside of the house. Thank you for witholding your applause until the end of the presentation.