Living Swimmingly

Genesis 1:20
"And God said, 'Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the dome of the sky.' "

For all the $290 million the founders sunk into the Georgia Aquarium, the entire complex was smaller than I had anticipated, having been spoiled with the Charleston, Boston, and other notable aquarium facilities. However, the exhibits were clearly laid out and designed to allow folks to stop and gape at fish as long as they pleased. The design was a central hub with five or six branches, each a themed exhibit sequence.
My personal favorite was unquestionably the Arctic selection, complete with beluga whales (we saw the two boy belugas, Nico and Gasper) and sea otters (apparently they're the Arctic-variety :) ). The beluga whales were eerily beautiful, shining vivid white in the deep blue, and they each sported the cutest, I-absolutely-top-Flipper grins. A voice narrating the story of the belugas informed their adoring audience that one of the whales came to the aquarium underweight and suffering severe skin lesions. I suspect that particular whale was the one scratching itself with ridiculous pleasure right in front of us. A boy to my right began to parody Nelly Furtado's new hit by singing "Promiscuous Whale"--I snorted with laughter and earned a very disapproving look from my brother. Alas...my dear, grumpy sibling thought the belugas resembled swimming albino slugs. Awful image, that.



As we walked by the sea otters, my sister noted that a middle-aged man behind us had "Riverbanks Zoo" emblazoned on his polo. Riverbanks is a well-known zoo in South Carolina, somewhere around my home. We spoke for a minute, he expressing wonder at the appeal of this aquarium and enthusiasm that I had participated in the Zoo Camp Wild Weeks program at Riverbanks. Ok, it sounds dorky, but I got to feed the marmosets, visit sick ferrets, see the back of the lion's cage, and eat popsicles virtually every day.

Back to the aquarium:

For walking-weary viewers, the aquarium-designers have installed an automated conveyer walkway, slowly moving us air-breathers through a fishtank tunnel. It was amazing, just to look up and see all sorts of fish going about their business and swimming energetically.
We all noticed the intensity of all the animals in the aquarium; maybe in older, more established zoos the animals are bored with life and lay lethargically in wait for their meals. In the Georgia Aquarium, however, either the temperature of the water or new surroundings inspired the animals to all be moving rapidly. Even the electric eels, which I have never seen show a spark of interest (hardy harr harr) in anything were swimming around sprightly.
I would heartily advocate visiting the Aquarium, despite the exorbitant price and crush of people. The exhibits are generally huge with tons of marine life, and the presentation of each is tasteful, eye-catching, colorful and just beautiful.
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Robertson essay: Being lost--a new find for me

Psalm 141:10

"With my voice I cry to the Lord; with my voice I make supplication to the Lord. I pour out my complaint before him; I tell my trouble before him. When my spirit is faint, you know my way."

In the course of an average, planned-to-the-minute day, I rarely schedule a time to think, to reflect, to wonder. Now I’ve got three and a half hours for possibly that purpose alone.

I am writing this on the back of my map, sitting in my car on Atlanta’s I-285 Perimeter road, a five-lane, circular highway enveloping metro Atlanta. Just after the five p.m. rush hour, the typically-bustling freeway is now comparable to cars oozing out of a crowded parking lot.

Not only that, but steaming, indiscriminate eighteen-wheelers loom to my right, my left, my front and my rear. If I really wanted to see blue sky, I suppose I could open the sun roof.

I have to be honest with you here: I am not feeling courage or collaboration or community service. All I want is to escape my 72-wheeled box, find the nearest exit to I-85 and find out whether Freedom Parkway will be my ticket home.

My realization thus far: So Atlanta is not just a glorified Chapin, SC, nor even a Columbia, SC. It’s not a New York, not a Chicago; Atlanta is one of the largest, most cosmopolitan yet culturally distinct cities in the Southeastern US.

For me, a self-described people-person, I expected to recognize the Southern culture of Atlanta in the daily interactions with people in my work and wanderings. Separated from the people and city by the metal, plastic and glass of my car while driving, I am forced to discover other aspects of Atlanta’s Southern culture and debate philosophy with myself.

First, Atlantans hardly ever use their horns, unless they want to speak with you. The horn is exercised as a courtesy of communication, not out of anger or useless frustration. This morning I waited at a red light and heard a loud toot to my left. My face burned with red embarrassment and I checked frantically for signs saying “Do Not Enter” or “Turn Only.” However, the source of my worry smiled sheepishly and hand-motioned whether she could get in front of me. Even in the forty-five minutes I’ve thus far experienced on this roadway, the vehicles have remained silent even to cutting drivers and rushed, speedy maneuverings. Everyone I’ve polled agrees: using horns is just not done.

Second, people get lost all the time. One special moment from yesterday occurred when I glanced at the car to my right and saw the driver scrutinizing a Google Map printout quite similar to my own. As it drove past, I spotted the Georgia license tag. Yep—even the natives get lost.

Next, as I still sit here (and we’ve moved underneath a bridge, now—goodbye, rectangle of blue sky) I’m considering a question applicable to life in the South and anywhere else.

Is it better to move along rapidly and have no notion of where you will end up, or better to make little progress and know your precise path?

In terms of my traffic experience, being lost and traveling rapidly has introduced dozens of fascinating new options for me. Who knew there was a Center for Puppetry Arts? I’ve got to see that. Is that the tenth or eleventh Publix I have passed? Are Peachtree Street, Avenue, Road, Circle and Court all one and the same? And apparently Atlanta is a one-way town: countless single-direction streets and innumerable churches. I’ve now seen everything from the Ritz-Carlton/Lenox Square/Phipps side of town to the homey Decatur suburbs to the slums of the inner-city never pictured on Atlanta postcards.

I once thought that driving was just transit, a relocation of presence requiring some thought, a set of wheels and expensive gasoline. Here, however, traveling either by car or via MARTA (Atlanta’s public transportation system) allows everyone to see and explore the constantly-changing city. Transportation is a key issue for all the city: the homeless, the Georgia State students, the Coca-Cola tycoons, and this visiting Robertson Scholar.

In hopes of finding where I should be, I’m finally forced to try all sorts of promising turns and intriguing paths. Maybe always having a plan hinders me from discovering something new. Then again, I arrive at my destination countless minutes earlier if I’ve got a strategy. I dislike not knowing the possibilities.

I do know that now I appreciate the benefits of the drive, namely the scenery and the chance to see an urban side of the South previously unbeknownst to me. Now I get to tackle an enormous, sprawling city with more stories and streets than I can navigate in two months. Now Atlanta forces upon me the opportunity to just sit and consider life—never mind, traffic’s moving again. I’m off to get myself lost and maybe find something along the way.

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Stone Mountain

Romans 9:33
"...as it is written, 'See, I am laying in Zion a stone that will make people stumble, a rock that will make them fall, and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.' "

We settled down on a blanket amidst dozens of kids and couples, all waiting for the sky to darken and watching a large mountain intently. As soon as 9:30 pm rolled around, fireworks burst from a stage in front of the mountain, booming country music blared, and multicolored lasers traced the graven images of Robert E. Lee, his horse Traveler, and two fellow mounted (yuk yuk) comrades with their horses. Stone Mountain's nightly laser show is a family affair promoting Georgia, homey values, the Southeast, and America--blazingly patriotic and memorable, we sang along with "Georgia on My Mind," "Devil went Down to Georgia," "Rockytop," and "God Bless the USA."

Earlier in the evening we were joined by Melissa, UNC alumna and member of the earliest Robertson class. Kelsey, Kiley, Lauren, Toni, Melissa and I had a delightfully (or upsettingly, your choice) fried dinner at a Southern place in the Stone Mountain national park. My unequivocally favorite part of the meal was when our waitress, Candy (the others' nametags proclaimed Apple and Biscuit, no joke) announced she was bringing out the hand-tossed rolls. I was holding my camera taking a picture when suddenly a roll hit my camera and my face!!! I mean, hand-tossed really means hand-tossed! Very funny and very tasty.

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CNN Center, Cyclorama, the Flying Biscuit, Piedmont Park

Romans 5:1
"Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God."

History, current events and great food--what doesn't Atlanta have? Today Toni, her friend Stephanie and I explored Atlanta's midtown district. We wandered around a beautiful park complete with scenic lake (more like a pond) and waited for well-known breakfast restaurant "The Flying Biscuit" to seat us. We were so famished that we went in search of ice cream whilst waiting for the Biscuit. Just to share the wisdom, Jason's Deli provides complimentary ice cream when you buy something else--hence, we went inside and bought drinks, then exploited the complimentary dairy treats. Yay!

The Flying Biscuit was quite an experience--eclectic and unusual, its menu featured a range of dishes from fried green tomatoes with goat cheese (quite tasty) to homemade pudge (I'm still laughing over that name--apparently a family recipe for mashed potatoes) to Stoup (a mix between soup and stew). And of course, the signature biscuits were flaky and even more enjoyable with the apple cinnamon butter spread--I'm definitely getting hungry thinking about it.

Next, we traveled to Cyclorama, a building housing one of the largest oil paintings in the world! This one took 18,000 gallons of paint to complete. The subject of the art is the Battle of Atlanta which occurred during the War Between the States (ok, ok, I won't make you call it that--maybe War of North Aggression? :) )

The painting was so gigantic that the designers placed it on the walls of a huge circular room. We sat in an auditorium whose seats revolved slowly as a commentator highlighted specific parts of the painting, giving their history. Interestingly enough, they had fashioned 3-D soldiers for the front of the painting to encourage the general effect that the painting was coming at you--one of the soldiers was actually an imitation of Rhett Butler, Clark Gable's character in Gone with the Wind, after the actor came to visit and said it'd be better if he were in it. They made sure to include him, but his doppelganger is a dying soldier rather than a hero, hahaha. :)

Next, I met up with Kiley, Kelsey, Lauren and a new friend to take the "Inside CNN" tour. A very peppy blonde tour guide allowed us to try out a teleprompter, stand in front of a green-screen (she asked me to hold up a matching green blanket in front of me, and I disappeared on the TV screen! very cool), witness a live broadcast, and learn about the basic processes involved in CNN coverage.

The CNN facility was originally a hotel (I forget which, a Hilton perhaps?), and it sports one of the longest escalators in the world. I love escalators, maybe I'll go back and ride it again.

<-- Makes you woozy, doesn't it?

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Margaret Mitchell--aka Peggy the rebel

It's a fine, fabulous weekend in Atlanta and we are NOT going to let it go to waste! That said, I spent a delightful Saturday at Cafe 458 filled with philanthropic fun. The next day I raced to meet my friend Toni and her friend Stephanie at the Margaret Mitchell house. Now, for those of you who have been grievously bereft of either reading Gone with the Wind or seeing the film version, Margaret Mitchell wrote the said novel. We discovered (MUCH to my surprise) that Ms. Mitchell had much in common with Scarlett O'Hara, the vindictive, seemingly heartless protagonist yet not heroine, and derived all of her characters from people in her life. Not only that, but Ms. Mitchell was nicknamed Peggy (destroys the image of a distinguished authoress, doesn't it?) and was one of the first lady-reporters (and the star one, at that) for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. She was constantly breaking traditions, being stubborn, and yet humanly doubting herself. Her two reasons for not writing the novel earlier were 1, she considered herself lacking in talent, and 2, it seemed there was nothing left to write. Unbelievable! Those are my two reasons exactly--or rather, were my two reasons. I'm inspired!

(Not as inspiring was the fact that she took ten years to write it--purportedly using only two fingers on her typewriter. *groans*)

Not only that, but Ms. Mitchell had a heart for civil reform--she rallied for equal-rights legislation and --get this-- a young Martin Luther King, Jr. sang in a boys' choir on the stage of Gone with the Wind's premiere ball. (Whatever happened to premiere balls?)

Anyhow, adjoined to her tiny apartment was a museum dedicated to the movie (oh, a gift shop was there was well, but that's moot). We were all rather surprised to learn that the only real, wooden part of Tara's setting, Scarlett's lovely Southern plantation home, was the wooden doorframe of its entrance. Other odds and ends included costume sketches and the memorable portrait of Scarlett hanging in their home, the target of an enraged Rhett Butler's goblet projectile. (Or something he threw--I forget what--but the portrait had a bunch of dents in it from all the takes.)

It was wonderful and made Margaret Mitchell truly come alive for us. I've found that most museums dedicated to an individual or a famous work tend to gravitate towards hagiography and forgetting human flaws. This one, however, certainly admired Ms. Mitchell but offered an insightful, comprehensive and personal view. Yay! Read Gone with the Wind!

Postscript: I meant to mention that the movie is vastly different from the book--Ms. Mitchell signed away all the rights to the movie, in essence washing her hands of any of its misdeeds or accomplishments. For example, book Scarlett lives on a small, quite rural spit of land, whereas movie Scarlett reigns on a plantation called Tara, which consists of rolling, spacious countryside and countless acreage.

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Thangs Ta Do

On Thursday after work I visited Emory's Autism Center, an internationally-known facility that helps both kids and adults with autism and/or Asperger's syndrome to function successfully in society. The center relies greatly on volunteers, and I'm more than sorely tempted to make time, despite the fact all I have to offer is a willing heart and virtually nil skill. I chatted with the front desk staffmember, a nice gal who immediately set me up with another volunteer and a 45-minute volunteer orientation. Lesson to me and all other travelers: you can learn so much just by asking! She also informed me of the basic qualities associated with autism, as I'm regrettably ignorant of everything but the fact it is a disorder. The center organizes a number of helpful events for the autistic in the community, including going to luau night, bowling, and ice cream parties for 18-30 yrs of age; plays and intellectual discussions over coffee for 30 yrs and older; and classes and field trips to the zoo for kids.

Anyhow...Thursday evening Kiley, Kelsey, Lauren, Toni and myself experienced Atlanta's "Screen on the Green," a weekly showing of a movie in Piedmont Park. This week featured Ferris Bueller's Day Off, an 80s movie starring the suavely hilarious Matthew Broderick. It was incredible! What I had expected to be a smaller, family-populated activity was a gigantic liquor fest of mostly young adults. The event was definitely built on community-camaraderie, however; everyone cheered at the same parts and chanted "Bueller? Bueller? Bueller?" together--quite fun, even for someone who hadn't previously seen the film.

Today the gals and I explored "Little Five Points," a nouveau shopping center primarily for the "more spiritual, not as religious," "hippie," "New Age," "counterculture" crowd. Very, very new to me. Here's a picture of the performing drum band and a very enthusiastic individual. We also, of course, have been touring Atlanta's vast network of shopping locations. Some ridiculously large sunglasses pictures: We also decided before arriving at Little Five Points that we would eat a new, "abnormal" dinner--hooray for intellectual and gustatory curiosity! We sampled an "authentic Tandoori" restaurant, ordering heavily spice-laden chicken bhuna and delicious pasawari nan (fresh flat bread containing nuts and dried fruit! my favorite).

To do tomorrow: the rest of Atlanta?

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458-Eat Well, Do Good

Cafe 458


I arrived at 9am wearing the suggested T-shirt, jeans and ballcap (I never wear hats, this is very exciting!). After enduring a volley of staff names and retaining none, my mentor gave me a tour around the pantry and kitchen. Welcome to the economy-sized world, SuzyQ.

Mike the mentor believes in learning on-the-job after a short overview. Thus, he told me to "go in the back, get an apron, and bake a cake." Yes, ladies and gentlemen, not thirty minutes inside the place and I'm baking a banana cake in a pan (more like a vat) and praying I wouldn't upset my ancestors (if you know my last name, you'll appreciate that). It was terrific fun!

The other volunteers expressed a lot of curiosity about me; most of them are a bit older than I am and have enjoyed working for the Cafe for months. They wanted to hear all about the Robertson program, Duke vs. UNC, working at the SECF, and whether I knew what I was doing with that enormous cake. The kitchen has a wonderfully relaxed climate, as well; 98.5 is always audibly playing a mix of good ol' favorites and new hits and, as Mike gravely told me, singing and wacky dancing is encouraged. Clients began to file in around 11am (lunch is from 11am-1pm on weekdays, I think 11-2 on weekends, but that's a different case: the customers pay for their meals on weekends to support the cafe), and I was working in the kitchen. The waiters/waitresses would give me the order on the usual restaurant pad, and I and my new friend would prepare them.

Using 8 tables of 4 seats each, the Cafe daily turns tables twice, so approximately 60 people are served. In a year, the Cafe will serve around 13,000 meals!

For those of you who were wondering about my culinary abilities, the cake came out GREAT! Everyone was very complimentary (probably because they realized I was so inept) and they liked the fact I added chocolate chips in for kicks, though the recipe didn't include them (I thought it would be fun, plus I wasn't sure if I added enough sugar). They even brought out whipped cream to add a celebratory touch. It was warm, tasty and delicious, even if it was made by me.

This place is wonderful; I'm working with a majority of Christians who are earnestly helping people with real needs such as meals, finding employment, Alcoholics Anonymous, counseling, etc. And I get to help with not only the kitchen, but the other outlets as well! I feel like the luckiest kid alive to actually be of help when I know so little. Hooray!

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The Carter Center

There are a host of things that I never expected to learn here. For example, learning about former President Jimmy Carter's lifelong commitment to human rights. Random, I know.

I visited the Carter Center Museum, a gorgeously-landscaped building holding multiple exhibits of President Carter's term, his election campaign, his dinner parties at the White House with lovely First Lady Rosalynn, and a room-size imitation of the Oval Office with Jimmy Carter's disembodied voice telling his first impressions of being in the presidency.

Favorite Quote from the Carter Center, among many:

"What those who are suffering fear the most...is silence."
--Jimmy Carter


Random picture of the day:
The biggest skink I've ever seen--scared me out of my wits, and then I took its picture


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Traffic Here is HELLACIOUS

Jeremiah 10:23
"I know, O Lord, that the way of human beings is not in their control, that mortals as they walk cannot direct their steps. Correct me, O Lord, but in just measure; not in your anger, or you will bring me to nothing."
You think the title's extreme? Wait till you hear about the jammed, panic-inducing, usually 80 mph, bumper-to-bumper, relentless flood of vehicles all vying for the same twisting, one-way roads every single day.

Yesterday I had the three-and-a-half hour experience of being utterly lost on and around Atlanta's Perimeter, I-285. Goodness gracious, it's just a big circle, right? Right. A simple circle in the same way that you can just look at one spaghetti noodle in a heap of spaghetti and find its end (incidentally, there is a "Spaghetti Junction" in the ATL--no joke). Well, I left work and missed a tiny ramp curving to the right; I traveled from one road to another, searching for familiar names and having only the aid of my printed GoogleMaps page getting me from work to my apartment. Being a rather laidback individual at times and relaxing into the realization I'm here to explore and learn, I decided to just try some new roads (It really hurts to type this--I deserve the title of this blog now). Again, THREE AND A HALF HOURS LATER, I am still sitting on I-285. There is a gigantic 18-wheeler in front of me, behind me, to my left and to my right. I could open my sun roof if I wanted to see blue sky. By that time, I had gotten some great vocal practice by singing all the songs I know by heart; trying out every radio station for at least three songs; calling virtually all my family members to check on them; and eventually starting to write this and my required Robertson essay on the back of my map. I really don't want to indulge in explaining the details of the turnarounds (though I made a personal records of U-turns and circles in parking lots), but I ultimately wound up far south of Atlanta, had to drive through it all again, starting at my work place. That was the most wicked part of it all: I ended up back where I started, left from there, found that accursed, previously neglected little ramp, and headed home. I'm making progress, though; I'm happy to say that yesterday my travel was only 30 minutes to home, which included a grocery run. Hooray! But I'm not going to lie; Atlanta traffic is still bullying me around like nobody's business.

Thanks and appreciation for my ability to blog this go to the dear souls at Best Western, Captain D's, QT, the Lord, luck and numerous other places who gave me directions.

To the right-->
Yes, the traffic lights are out, and it's rush hour. ?!?!

Meaningful essay to come soon.

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Lunch with the Crazies

The other day I excused myself from writing press releases for the Southeastern Council for a nice, mundane excursion: lunch. Wandering around outside and going on a friend's recommendation, I tried the quite unhealthy yet satisfying Chester's Chicken (steer clear of the potato wedges, my friends--the grease alone will drown you) and then saw a lovely park nearby.

Walking to the park (hey, I'm entitled at least an hour for lunch, I wasn't playing hooky--not really) and nearly tripping over those ridiculously complacent, chubby pigeons, I came upon a concert. Apparently Woodruff Park hosts "Wednesdays at Woodruff," an outdoors lunch-hour jam session featuring local bands. It was absolutely picturesque: sitting on a stone wall with an enchanting fountain right in front of me, listening to fun, peaceful music by talented artists. The crowd was noticeably motley; there were clumps of white-haired business gentlemen in the "Southern uniform" (navy blazer, red tie and khaki slacks); elegant ladies in tailored suits sitting primly drinking Starbucks; a group of Army boys chilling in the shade; and all around the edges of the park, down-on-their-luck men in ragged clothes, looking grateful for the concert-seating.

One of these fellows decided to share his joy over this event with the crowd; he danced right up next to me, stood on my stone wall a foot to my right, and began cha-cha-ing in slow rhythm whilst waving a flag. He also starting murmuring a happy, nonsensical tune the likes of which I've never heard. He later went up to the flagpole in the center of the park and let out a mighty roar. It was something akin to Robin Williams' "Mighty Yowp" in Dead Poet's Society. Quite impressive, and rather frightening in its audacity.

Well, following the concert's end, I was approached by a clean-cut fellow in white pants and pastel shirt--he told me his name was Rodney, and he felt he should come over and say hello (It really proves my INCREDIBLE lack of discernment that I didn't think this was strange at all). He told me he was from New York and was a doctor at the local Grady Center. I asked him about his specialty, and he told me he treats patients with psychological diseases. Unsure what to say to that, I told him it "must be interesting work." He was clearly encouraged by this statement, and asked me where I was from (Me: Oh, just a little town you've never heard of) and invited me to go to Screen on the Green on Thursday night (Screen on the Green in Piedmont Park is a weekly movie showing, this week will be Ferris Bueller's Day Off.) Suddenly it clicked that this thirty-ish fellow with the nicely coiffed hair, suspicious lack of New York accent, and strangely unmarked business card (yes, he gave me his card--had an AOL address on it and no street address--odd, I thought) was asking me out.

I stood up to shake his hand and walk past him, the pigeons and the Rastafarian to the safe building, and I was a foot taller--funny how you don't notice things like that when you're sitting. I plan to exercise much more caution in my outings--my mom was most disturbed by this turn of events (another piece of advice to avoid acting idiotically: don't call your mom if you think something like this is funny-she likely will not agree). I can't figure it out though; was he just a nice man exercising hospitality by welcoming a single girl new to Atlanta to a movie with him and his friends? Was he some sort of sneaky, conniving rapscallion with a fake MD-ID? Who knows. I welcome comments if you've got any wisdom for me.

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Don't Let Atlanta Burn

For those of you who either don't know or have forgotten, Robertson domestic summer options are as follows:

• New Orleans, Louisiana
• Whitesburg, Kentucky
• Cleveland, Mississippi
• Atlanta, Georgia

During Lisa's visit, this year's Atlanta Robbies discussed the differences between Atlanta and the other areas. Depending upon one's internship/placement and residence, the first three seem to be decidedly more rural than Atlanta (New Orleans? Rural? Still--very different from Atlanta). Lisa shared with us that there was/is talk of exchanging the Atlanta program for another location.

WHY? Atlanta is unforgivably metropolitan, this is for certain; perhaps it is easier for some to live more closely aligned to their normal lives in a city with all the amenities and outlets you can imagine. However, I happen to be from a tiny place (Town pop.: 728) and wanted something different--Atlanta completely qualifies.

The summer experiences have a variety of purposes, all of which are individually-tailored and multidimensional. But what I understand is this: these experiences are to allow us to further develop intellectual curiosity (there's so much to see here you can't imagine--I plan to use this blog to prove it), courage (just try driving here), ethical principles (definitely comes up--did I mention the economically-divided Atlanta?), service (there are hundreds of volunteer organizations and needs), collaboration (you have over 4,708,297 in the metro area to work with), leadership (that's always in your hands--you have to be a leader to find your niche), and, for the domestic summer, exploring the South (honey, if Atlanta ain't Southern, ain't nowhere Southern. Albeit, it is of the more urban-Southern genre).

Hope that helps. Let me know what you think.

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Let Freedom Ring

Lisa Croucher, head of the Robertson summer programs, has joined our cadre in Atlanta for two days to observe our activities as well as investigate opportunities for future scholars. She and I had a noonday lunch at Cafe 458, chatted with my mentor Mike, and then decided to tour the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Center. Lisa discovered a fifteen-minute film about to show highlighting the historical role of America's youth in encouraging societal change.

It was amazing! In that snatch of time, the video detailed the determined yet nonviolent stands of young Americans ranging from six to eighteen years old. Lisa and I were both tearing up, to be perfectly honest--it compelled us both to consider how powerful the actions of even children are when they are passionately fighting for the side of right and also how weighty upon us is the responsibility to recognize civic injustice and pursue a freer, more harmonious life for all.

I was really impressed with the Center; yes, they gave you all the information you could ever want about Dr. King, his home life, his charismatic oratory, but the clear message of the exhibits was encouraging everyone to take a nonviolent stand against the problems of the world and to be proactive in improving others' lives. It struck me to compare MLKJ with the much earlier Martin Luther, another famed historical figure who dared to point out what he considered institutional wrongs via his skill in writing. I doubt just having that name inspired King to lead so many, but perhaps historical examples can make us realize that by a relentless determination for doing what's right and utilizing God-given and studied resources, we can really achieve.

"Yes, if you want to say that I was a drum major. Say that I was a drum major for justice. Say that I was a drum major for peace. Say that I was a drum major for righteousness. And all of the other shallow things will not matter. I won't have any money to leave behind. I won't have the fine and luxurious things in life to leave behind. But I just want to leave a committed life behind. And that's all I want to say.
If I can help somebody as I pass along, if I can cheer somebody with a word or song, if I can show somebody he is traveling wrong, then my living will not be in vain."
-the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

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Info on Internships

Romans 12:11
"Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord."


Today I have officially met my mentors for the summer. I have the opportunity to intern Mondays through Wednesdays for the Southeastern Council of Foundations, a regional association of grantmakers and private foundations, or RAG. On Thursdays through Saturdays I'll be working at Cafe 458, a local restaurant/employment-aid organization helping people achieve self-sufficiency.

SECF
First, the SECF works to protect its member organizations from restrictive legislation regarding grantmaking, staff salaries, founder intentions and other pertinent concerns. As explained to me, the SECF's philosophy is such that organizations should exercise honesty and efficiency through accountability, which SECF is presently promoting in its new initiative. That said, the SECF is creating a new website from scratch, recruiting new members, and publishing material to inform, educate and encourage its member organizations, all to which I can contribute! Apparently it is also SECF's policy that "it takes an entire staff to raise an intern," something akin to needing a village to raise a child. Thus, everyone teaches me (yay!) and everyone also gives me work (oh). It may sound slightly boring and very much the office job, but I promise you I am working with a dynamic, superintelligent and philanthropic-hearted staff. Plus, they've given me my own office, PC, and lamp! :)

Trust me; future blog entries will be more succinct and exciting. But you've got to get the basics down like I did today, no?

Cafe 458
Secondly, I will be working with Cafe 458. Today I met with my mentor, a charismatic and dedicated volunteer named Mike. He has plans for me to work all the various branches of the cafe, ranging from the Employment Readiness Office (instructing others on how to format a resume, succeed in a job interview) to the kitchen (cooking, cleaning, serving, conversing) to AM classes (Anger Management--maybe also helping with AA meetings) to administration (back to paperwork). I will get to meet and truly help people from all walks of life down on their luck. Can't wait, will keep you posted.

Sources of Interest:

Southeastern Council of Foundations
Cafe 458

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Catching Up

Quite a bit for me to catch up on here in the grand and glorious ATL. Coming from a small town with an annual tractor show (see left--now take that row of tractors and multiply by nine--I'm telling you, it's a big event back home), there seems to be an enormous amount of activities/restaurants/fashions/people of which or whom I've never heard. Por ejemplo, this shopping business?

My first introduction to the divided world of Atlanta was Lenox Square, a veritable ocean of stores such as Nicole Miller, Nine West, Burberry, Louis Vuitton, the Discovery Channel store (my favorite, nerdy but awesome), and a bazillion other high-profile shops featuring everything from shoes to sofas to sweets. (Check out the picture below of one of the entrances to the Mall Level--very ominous steps, either a warning or welcome mat to shoppers.) It was more than slightly astounding to me that here, in the same building, I could purchase anything from decorated tea picks to lanolin oil (from a sheep?) to The Once and Future King to an electric drill. And no, I'm not even mentioning clothes.

Ok, just one clothes-story--I stood at the entrance to Burberry, exceedingly curious as to what makes their clothes so ridiculously expensive. Is it the make? Is it the fabric? Is it all just hype? When I entered the clerk smiled at me kindly, noting my age, garb, gaping jaw and judging me (rightly) less than a paying customer. But why not humor me?

I went to a nice beige jacket and held the tag between my fingers--What? 95 dollars? I can almost afford that! I thought with surprise.

Then I tilted the tag (you see, the black ink on the black tag hadn't completely caught the light) and saw another digit prior to the 95. Oh. I backed away from the jacket carefully.

I'll catch up; it'll take some getting used to. By it I'm referring to the mix of people (everyone from fellow students to big-time business owners to the man in the Rastafarian cap waving the flag around in the park), the traffic, the commerce and all the other ingredients comprising the city atmosphere. I'll catch up, no problem. :)

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Introduction to Where the Planes Come In

Welcome to the Idiot's Guide to Atlanta!

What I know so far:

Atlanta, Georgia, is an incredibly diverse, Southern city whose suburbs sprawl far beyond I-285 (a gigantic road encircling the heart of the city and known as the Perimeter) and back into history. Atlanta serves as

• the birthplace of Martin Luther King, Jr., famed civil rights leader;
• the residence of Margaret Mitchell, renowned author of novel Gone with the Wind;
• the central hub for many of America's airlines;
• the most popular destination for African-American travelers;
• location of Stone Mountain, one of the largest monoliths of exposed granite in the world;
• the site of the largest 10K race in the world on Peachtree Road;
• the origin of Coca-Cola in 1886;
• the capital of the U.S. state Georgia;
• operations area for over 135,000 businesses, 28 counties and 110 municipalities.

What I plan to do and find out:

I have the exciting privilege of living quite close to Atlanta for roughly two months with sweet, adventurous friends who are fellow Robertson Scholars. That's right--I represent the Robertson Scholarship (see site below) and will be actively working on the qualities of courage, collaboration, ethical principles, intellectual curiosity, leadership and a commitment to helping others and the community. Let me know if you've got tips or questions about anything I post--I definitely would be thrilled to receive comments, be they questions or compliments.

About the title...I should hope I'm not an idiot, but I've certainly accomplished quite a few idiotic feats whilst here in Atlanta (so far we have a tally of walking five blocks in high heels down a sketchy neighborhood and under a dark bridge and bringing queen-sized and single-sheets for a full-sized bed). As many others say, you've just got to laugh at yourself and learn from it. To put it simply, I'm here in Atlanta (and in life) to learn and to act on what is right, so I plan to chalk these experiences up to tuition and share them with yall.

Sources and Places of Interest for You:
Robertson Scholars
Atlanta's Historical Heritage
Fast Facts about the ATL
More stuff than you wanted to know, but I enjoyed it

P.S. I'm using the font "Georgia" for this site--how apropos. Yay! :)

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