Thursday, March 31, 2011

Why It's Called Resaca

Have you ever wondered why it's called Resaca? I like to tell everyone it's supposed to be because an old man ordered a mail order bride, back in the day, and when he saw how ugly she was he said, "Re-sack 'er boys, and send 'er back." But the truth of the matter is that Resaca is Spanish for "hangover" or "a dry river bed".

According to history the town was named after the Mexican-American war when the veterans came back home to north Georgia from the Battle of Resaca de las Palmas (Dry River Bed of the Palms) near Matamoros, Tamaulipas, Mexico in 1846.

Resaca has always been prone to flooding so it does look like the community is on a dry riverbed that rises to alarming levels when we get too much rain at once. Sometimes it looks like our house is setting in the middle of a river bed when it starts flooding around here. We have to put a pump underneath the house to pump out the excess rain. We have to get new guttering for the house but that will only help divert the water away from the foundation. It won't do anything to stop the river flowing over the septic tank and field line out back. That doesn't help.

Resaca has plenty of drunks, too. We live right on the highway so we have access to plenty of interesting sights. One day I watched some old guy go walking down the highway on the shoulder of the road. He was staggering down the road and every now and then he would stagger into the lanes. I was sure he would get creamed by a car or truck coming down the road. He staggered a couple of houses down from ours and veered into the driveway and fell down flat on his face in the yard. Someone drove down the road and saw him and picked him up. They put him in the back of their little pickup truck. I watched them drive down the road, nearly to the curve, and then the truck stopped abruptly. I don't know if the drunk man fell out of the truck or maybe they decided to throw him out after he puked all over them but after a few seconds the little truck drove off. 

Resaca is a little bit of this and a little bit of that. I hate the inconvenience when it rains and the ground is saturated but the drunks are entertaining and if you keep your eyes open there's no telling what you might see. Like today, I cranked up the old Buick and didn't give it time to warm up. I pulled out in the highway and the piece of crap quit on me. I saw a car coming from behind me and was hoping I could get it cranked or at the very least turn on the damn emergency lights when I realized I couldn't get them on and my only hope was that the car had enough momentum to turn into the south driveway even when it was dead. I forced the wheel to turn, which is not easy when the motor's not running. Don't believe me? Try it sometime. It takes some muscle. Anyway, I got the car turned into our south driveway and thankfully got out of the road. I used to have to throw my old Camaro in neutral when it went dead when I was young so it was like 'deja vu' all over again.

I have my own theories about why we always get too much rain sometimes and it doesn't seem to want to stop. I think that when all the church people were praying around the United States every week during the droughts that stretched deep across the south for several years that those prayers got backed up and when the blessings start to pour, they pour and pour and pour. That's the same way we have droughts. People start praying for the rains to stop after everything is flooding and there doesn't appear to be an end in sight and those prayers get backed up a few years and then we have a drought again. Does that make sense? Or is it just the cycles in life, and that means I am getting really old and noticing things that I never noticed for years?

You know, I spend way too much time thinking about these things.

Check out everything you ever wanted to know on It tells about the history of Resaca and Resaca is definitely rich in history. We are historically located at the Battle of Resaca near the Chitwood Farm where the Battle of Resaca is held annually in May to commemorate the battle of 1864. It is a time for reflection and contemplation about the people who were alive during that time who lived where we live today.

The first Confederate Cemetery in Georgia was founded after Mary J. Green asked her father for a plot of land to bury the dead soldiers who had been buried wherever they died. She gathered up all the dead soldiers and re-interred them in a little plot of ground near a stream. The cemetery is close to our house. It is nice to go down to the cemetery and see all the tiny white markers. She made sure they all had a decent burial. The first Memorial was held in 1866.

Resaca is also part of Gordon County where the last Cherokee Indian Nation was before they were forcibly removed from their native lands and removed west to Oklahoma in one of the most tragic histories in America, the shame of the Trail of Tears. Sequoyah created the Cherokee Indian alphabet, the first written Indian language at New Echota which is near Interstate 75. 

New Echota was founded in 1825 by the Cherokee people, and they were rounded up and forcibly removed after the discovery of gold in Dahlonega Georgia in 1838. President Andrew Jackson illegally ordered their forcible removal. Chief Justice Thurgood Marshall had sided with the Indians.

Go to for more information about the history of the American Indians who lived in this area before Europeans came to America.
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Sunday, March 27, 2011

Colt's Art

John Lennon resting in a hotel room.
Zack Wylde in concert.
Megadeth lives.

The Johnny Depp look.

Climbing the ladder of success.

Colt graduated with an Associates of Science degree in physics from Dalton State College. He is attending Southern Polytechnic State University in Marietta, Georgia studying construction management. We are all very proud of him.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011


That's supposed to be the sound of a drum doing a "rim shot".
Maybe I should have started with a joke. I think the silence is deafening. I can hear you breathe and can see people stop by but I get no feedback. I'm talking to you, people, but I get nothing. Am I amusing? Am I boring? I don't know. Do you love me, or, do you hate me? Come on. Say something. If you're going to read my stuff, I would like you to become a follower of Resaca Rose. I've twisted everybody's arm I can, so now it's up to you.

Well, I'm done with the begging so I've decided to emulate my late, great website ALEMAP and mix it up a little. Pardon me, if I'm a little rusty, but it's been a while.


How Do Crazy People Go Through The Forest? They Take The Psycho Path

What would you call it when an Italian has one arm shorter than the other?
A speech impediment.

Old is when your friends compliment you on your new alligator shoes and you're barefoot.

What happens when frogs park illegally? They get toad.

You know you are getting old when everything either dries up or leaks.

Old is when getting lucky means you find your car in the parking lot.

What do you call cheese that isn't yours? Nacho Cheese

Old is when an all nighter means not getting up to use the bathroom.

Why do ducks have webbed feet? To stamp out fires.
Why do elephants have flat feet? To stamp out burning ducks.

Why do men want to marry virgins? They can't stand criticism.

Did you ever notice: When you put the 2 words "The" and "IRS" together it spells "Theirs"?

What did the rug say to the floor? Don't move, I've got you covered.

Why can't you tell blondes knock knock jokes? Because they go answer the door.

A jumper cable walks into a bar. The bartender says, "I'll serve you, but don't start anything."

God has a sense of humor. Don't believe me? Go to Wal-Mart and just look at people.

A Dubliner proposes to his girlfriend on Saint Patrick's Day and gives her a ring with a synthetic diamond. "You cheap bum!" she yells. "This isn't even real."
"I know." he says. "but in honor of Saint Patrick, I though I'd buy you a sham rock."
Well, enough of that.

And now for continuing news . .

Springtime has arrived in the Piedmont. Yellow jonquils and forsythias and white Bradford pear trees are blooming everywhere. Spring has arrived. Just remember we still have a few more weeks of cold spells and we're not through with winter yet until the Easter cold snap and blackberry winter finally arrives.

People tell you that life goes in circles and you can't see that when you are young, but when you are older you start to see cycles in your life and realize that it is true.

Over the years I have had many friends but they have all fell by the wayside for one reason or another. Some people moved away and I lost touch with them. Some people's lives led them in different directions. Some people left for unknown reasons. Some people told me why they didn't want to be my friend. 

Recenty two old friends contacted me and started roping me into going out with them and having dinner and a movie. Since Melissa and I haven't hung around since our first marriages, it has been a long time. Melissa is the same old sweet girl I remember from long ago. She has strong core values and an indestructible spirit that has sustained her and nourished her over the years. She has thrived and been an example to others in her day to day life as a school teacher. I can imagine Melissa's enthusiasm as she teaches children and leads them on a journey of learning in life. She's had to made an indelible imprint on many young minds. I admire Melissa's dedication.

My friend Debbie has stayed in touch with me over the years. We may not see each other often but we can pick up the phone and call each other and it feels like we never missed a beat. Debbie was always my closest confidant and willing accomplice. We go way back.

I've had more people stop being my friend than becoming my friend. I have given up on ever being close to anyone again. I certainly don't expect them to be around forever. I guess Daddy was right when he used to tell me, "You don't have any friends." When I would name my good friends he would say, "They aren't real friends." I never could convince him that I had any friends.

One friend, Peg* kept gossiping about another former friend, Joy* so much that I finally decided to break off our friendship. I figured if she was going to talk about my friend who quit being my friend then she was probably gossiping about me to all her other friends, too. I had enough stress in my life and I didn't want everyone she knew to hear gossip about me. Even though my former friend Joy wasn't speaking to me I didn't believe the things that my friend Peg was telling me about my former friend.

I've become less and less comfortable around people because of all the people that dropped me like a hot potato. That is why it is so hard for me to be comfortable socializing with my friends. I am a homebody. I don't like getting out, like I used to do when I was young.

My closest friends are my sons Scout and Colt. I think of some of their friends as my friends, too. I've even informed Allen and Jason that they can be my pall bearers when I die. That's when Allen said something about just dragging me out to the woods and burying me, as in Edgewood's insurance. When Colt was young. I gave him my instructions for when I got old. I told him just to take me out to the woods and pour honey all over me and leave me there for the bears. That's when he said, "Come on, Moma, let's go." I told him I meant "WHEN I WAS OLD" and he said, "Yeah, come on." (Butthead)

My former friend Joy dropped by unexpectedly after Christmas a couple of years ago. We hadn't seen each other for about 14 years. She stopped by to tell me that she and her husband Stan were getting a divorce and that she had missed me so she came by to visit. She came a total of three times. After that I never heard another word from her. Even though she is an airhead I never could believe the things my other friend had been saying about her. She had always been honest and straight forward and she didn't seem to be crazy. Boy, I could have told her a few things.

I don't hate anyone who doesn't want to be my friend. I don't understand them but I don't hate them either. I wish everybody who was a friend of mine a long and happy life. I don't have to be a part of their lives and they certainly don't have to be a part of my life. I have lived without them for this long so it won't hurt me if they go on with their lives without me.

I don't expect anything more than what you can give. If you can give a part of yourself and want to share a part of me that is okay. But, if you find that I am still intolerable, that is okay, too.



*Aliases were used.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Spring Cleaning









Thursday, March 17, 2011

Go Pam Go

I was fifteen years old when I learned to drive. Moma said I needed to learn to drive a stick shift before I learned to drive an automatic so she taught me how to drive her car. She had a 1959 Impala. When I got my learner's license she would let me drive on straight-aways so that I could get the feel of the car. Moma chided me for being a lead foot and tried to get me to keep it between the lines. We had a few close calls. When I had to stop for red lights on hills she jumped over next to me to keep the car from rolling back more than once. She accused me of making her hair turn grey.

What can I say? I was a wild child. I was driving a float! The Impala had wings and it was white. It was huge. I couldn't see well when I backed up and driving forward wasn't much better. But I loved driving. I would beg people to let me drive but nobody ever trusted me. I can't say I blame them.

I remember my cousins, Randy and Debbie, were at my house once and Moma said I could drive the Impala out to my grandmother's house which was two houses down. Randy lived in the house between my grandparents and me. We were all very close when we were young. I don't remember if we were supposed to bring a bowl or something to Beulah's house for Moma or why Moma agreed to let me take the car. I just remember that she told me to go out there and come right back. Debbie and Randy were going to ride to Beulah's with me.

We pulled out of the driveway and started to my grandmother Beulah's house. By the time we got to the drive way someone said something about taking the car down the road. Somebody else agreed with the idea. As the driver I made a split second decision to drive on down the road a piece. We were only going to go a little further and turn around. The trouble was, I began to be scared that I'd pull into somebody's driveway and not be able to back out fast enough and someone might hit us on one of the hills. Dug Gap is a very hilly road with lots of dips and curves. Some people use the road like a drag strip.

I kept driving further and further trying to find some place to turn around. I was sweating it because I knew we were going to be in trouble. Instead of a five minute trip I was headed to the end of Dug Gap. I got about two miles down the road before I finally turned around in somebody's drive way. Mailboxes were across the road from the drive way. I backed so close to the mailboxes that the slanted antenna bent straight up and snapped. Ah, busted. I was in deep crap now.

Any joy I may have felt in our little joyride was gone. Poof! I didn't know what was going to happen to Debbie and Randy but I had a pretty good idea what was going to happen to me. It wasn't a pretty picture. We headed towards home and drove to our grandmother's house. Maybe she could protect us.

I had to go home and tell Moma that I broke the antenna when I took the car. She was very mad at me for taking the car down the road without permission. She knew how mad Daddy would get. I don't know if he was more upset because I took the car or because I broke the antenna but Moma took the blame for me and told him she had let me take the car. She just didn't tell him she only meant to Beulah's house. I always hated putting Moma in that position.

My mother earned every one of those grey hairs. She earned half of them the day she tried to teach me how to pass. I had been riding a cars bumper when she told me that I should pass them. We were going north on Highway 41 up the steep grade near the Carmichael's.

I got up even with an old truck and started up that grade. I kept trying to get around them but couldn't get up enough speed. I was focused on passing the truck so hard that I didn't let up on the gas. Moma started getting so excited that she started yelling Go Pam Go, over and over again. I thought she was cheering me on. Moma was frantically banging on the dash yelling Go Pam Go when I realized she wasn't yelling Go Pam Go. She was yelling No! Pam! No!

I looked up and a semi truck had crested the hill and was barreling down directly towards us. The driver in the old truck wasn't giving an inch and I was about to kill us. My God! I let off the gas and fell in behind the vehicle. After Moma collected her nerves and new grey hairs she gave me a good lecture and told me she'd let my daddy teach me how to drive from now on.

Daddy drove a big green boxy Ford truck with a green plywood homemade camper on back. He decided to teach me the right way to pass somebody when we were going camping one time. We were on windy curvy roads and I didn't really want to practice there. He kept insisting until I pulled up alongside a vehicle. Daddy told me to speed up and pass them, then pull in front of them.

I did exactly what Daddy said but I didn't check my mirrors to be sure I was far enough ahead of them. I cut into their lane and nearly ran over them. Daddy got mad and started yelling at me about cutting people off. I had no idea about watching my mirrors and I couldn't even see out of those big ass truck mirrors. That's the day I decided I'd never pass anything unless they were really, really slow. Better that than me plowing into somebody.


Friday, March 11, 2011

Parable of the Party

This is, yet again, proof of the axiom, "If anything can go wrong it will go wrong if I am there." Another way of putting it could be, "Things don't always turn out like you expect them to." Both situations can occur simultaneously as in the event of a surprise party given to one of my "old" friends. I stress the old because she thought I was ancient when we were twenty six and twenty two, respectively. She was turning forty six that year. Her daughter called me to invite me to a surprise party at the Depot in downtown Dalton. She told me that they had invited about twenty five people and to meet them at the Depot around 6:30 PM. Donny didn't feel like going and the boys weren't interested so I went alone.

I am usually late wherever I go but this time I arrived early so I could check out the place a little and figure out where to go. I'd never been to the Depot. The lady at the check in desk said that nobody else had arrived yet but she pointed out the room where the party was scheduled to be. She said it was behind the train display which was under a huge glass enclosure.

Kids were standing next to the display watching the trains run. Another train was up on the ceiling. The track was on cut out plywood suspended with copper tubing from the ceiling. The Depot was full of people. People seemed to be milling about waiting for a table. Some young people stood around wearing evening gowns and suits. It made me feel like a fish out of water.

Around seven o'clock Teresa's mother showed up. I had forgotten how she is. She's a take charge kind of woman. She charged into the room with two little girls and a man in tow. She dropped a bundle of presents in the floor and began worrying aloud about where to put the birthday cookie.

I had been sitting at the end table on the side. One chair was situated at the end. I told her she could put the cookie there if she wanted Teresa to sit there. She began claiming all the chairs at the end of the table. As she touched some of the chairs she said her granddaughter could sit there and her grandson could sit across from her. Then she saved a place for the oldest little girl with her, and herself, then the other little girl. She pointed to chairs across from us and said where Teresa's sister and her husband were supposed to sit. By then I had lost interest because I had already lost my seat.

People began arriving and everyone grabbed chairs on the other end of the room at the other end of the table. So much for planning.

Teresa and her daughter arrived from the opposite end of the room. Teresa didn't even realize that she  was at a party until everyone began singing Happy Birthday. She circled the table and said hello to everyone and walked on past the place at the end of the table. She came to sit beside me. I told her that her mother had saved the chair up there for her but she said she didn't want to sit at the end of the table. She wanted to sit near her friends.

Well knock me over with a feather. That reminds me of the parable of the guest who goes to a party and is wise enough not to presume to be too important. It is better to be sitting in the back and be called forward than to be sitting up front and asked to move.

The Depot had two young men to serve us and they were very nice and tried to keep our glasses full but the service was slow.The guys said it was a madhouse in the kitchen and everybody was running around doing something. Obviously, not cooking. I swear, they were slow.

A waitress came in carrying blooming onions and asked if we had ordered them. We said, "No, but we'll eat them." She said she might bring them back if she couldn't find out who was supposed to get them. We ended up getting three free blooming onions. Later she came in with some baby back ribs and we offered to eat them too. She must have found someone who claimed them though because we never got those.

The guys served the salads. Another lady and I sat at our table waiting for our food. I had ordered a hamburger. They brought some people's food and a little while later they brought a few more plates. The group at the end of the table were the last to be served.

Everyone seemed satisfied with their food except one woman who said her steak was too raw. They got her another one. Teresa's sister offered me a bite of her steak. She said it was marinated in Jack Daniels and was delicious. It certainly was tender but no wonder. I would be too if I'd been marinating in Jack Daniels. Boy, was it strong smelling and tasting.

All in all, it was an interesting experience going to the Depot but I wouldn't want to make it a habit. You can see trains outside the dining room windows which are right beside the tracks. Several trains went by while we were there. Little kids thought it was exciting. Pictures of trains were painted on the walls and around other areas of the Depot. There were some huge trunks sitting around and an original set of scales. Mirrors on the walls lined the ceiling in the main entrance. It would be interesting to read all the memorabilia but other than that and the too expensive prices I don't know what the big deal is. Maybe I'm just a Hardee's kind of gal.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Resaca Rednecks

You never know what you might see around Resaca. Check out these goomers.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

My Dental Visit

One thing I always dread is my dental appointment. I developed gum disease and have to go to two dentists now. My dental visits are staggered between dentists. I love Dr. Frank and started going to him after his father, Dr. Frank Sr. retired. But I love my hygienist even better. She is gentle and knows me. She knows I get scared and she takes pains to make sure I am comfortable. (Haha I made a joke and didn't even mean to.) Anyway, I want to keep my smile as long as I can.

Smiling at ya'
I really like having my teeth and being able to chew things. I don't think I'd be near as happy without them.

See that glamorous gap in my front teeth, ala Lauren Hutton? That's what happens when your teeth shift.

Getting old is not for the faint hearted.

Rachel says everything is looking good. Some of my gaps aren't as deep. The new gum graft is looking good.

My teeth aren't as loose as they once were. That's good news. I just have to keep my dental appointments and let them treat my disease.

Did I mention I hate going to the dentist?
Getting them cleaned.
Rachel and I have deep conversations while she is working. She is cheerful and upbeat. She's in the right profession. I, on the other hand, am a nervous wreck.

I learned that Rachel became a hygienist because her older brother was a dentist. I think that is neat.

Rachel's son went to SPSU so I tell her about Colt going down there.

Oddly enough, this is one of the most relaxing places I've been in a while.

Rachel gave me a clean bill of health and the usual encouragement that I always need.

It's a lot less stressful since I've been going to Doctor Frank and Doctor Phillip, my periodontal dentist.

Note the cool bow-tie and bright shirt. Doctor Frank is a character. His old bird dog was laying in the hall when I came in the exam room.

He thought I was funny for bringing my camera. I told him I might as well put my pictures on my blog. Little does he know I'm going to make him famous.

Doctor Frank
He thinks I am doing very well. It looks like we will be able to keep my smile for a while. Doctor Frank is a mountain climber. He climbed Mount Kilimanjaro (I think).

Doctor Frank's father Doctor Frank Sr. was my dentist for years. After he retired I didn't know what to do but I finally came to see Doctor Frank.
Hygienist Rachel
That's my girl Rachel. I've been going to her since I was first married years ago. She's a wonderful person.

I found out that Donny and Rachel went to school together when we went to one of his class reunions one time.

Rachel is a beautiful woman and a gentle hygienist. I am grateful to Rachel for her calm nature.


Other dental visits are JUNE and SEPTEMBER

I am having lots of traffic to this post. I would like to know what is drawing so many people to this particular post. Are you all in dental school? My next dental visit is in JUNE  Check it out. 
Thanks for your replies. Or not.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Home Improvement Project

Last year we got new windows in every room except the living room. We also got a gas hot water heater and a "water closet" built. When the weather turned cold we suspended all operations. I've really enjoyed our new windows and the way the house seems warmer now. I've been impatient for spring to arrive so that we can get back to finishing our home improvement projects. We have to finish painting the house blue and paint all the trim white. I've got some bright red I want to paint on the front and back doors.

New countertops.

We replaced our old lower cabinets about five or six years ago. Since then, Moma and Daddy gave us their old dishwasher after they got a new one. I wanted to get it put in but there were always more pressing matters to attend to around the house. After nagging Donny about it for a while he threw it out the front door in the driveway. I drug it around to the carport until he was willing to put it in for me. He finally plumbed it in so I nagged Scout until he built a frame around the dishwasher. I needed a new counter top long enough to cover the dishwasher so I shopped around for a while. Donny and I bought two pieces of counter top last weekend at Home Depot. Scout cut the sink hole and Colt helped carry the counter top in and anchor the top down. I love having grown sons who are smart and hard working. Scout's the builder, Donny's the electrician and plumber, and Colt helps them both.

Water closet.
 Family projects are so much fun. I dream them up, then I have to inspire the guys. Donny has to approve the project and the guys have to complete them. I love being married to a man who knows how to do things, and I am so blessed to have two great sons who know how to do things too. Our sons re-roofed the house, put in new windows, built my washroom, built the water closet for the hot water heater, built the dog lot, and did a thousand other things around here to help. We're very fortunate to have such considerate sons.

Brake job.

Scout and Colt helped Donny put the back brakes on my car. Since we all drive old vehicles they have plenty of practice repairing cars and trucks. Scout learned to work on vehicles when he got my old Ford truck. It always had something that was tearing up on it. Colt got my grampa's old Chevy truck and Daddy bought him a new crate motor. Donny and Scout helped Colt put the motor in. Donny bought an old Ford truck, like Scout's, except it is a short bed. It always needs repairs, too.

I hope we are able to get the new windows for the living room and then that home project will be complete. I can't wait to see what we get done this year.

If it's gonna get done it's gonna get done the Strickland way.
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