OLD FAMILIAR PLACES

By Dan Miller
May 5, 2008

I'm a sucker for a walk down memory lane, literally or figuratively.
And the memory-generating potential of a walk through my old Georgia neighborhood can be greatly enhanced by the aroma of azaleas and dogwoods gloriously strutting their springtime stuff.

Part of the allure, I suppose, is knowing I won't be -- can't be -- staying there for long.
If I could, I still wouldn't.
I now belong in Tennessee.

Still, I visit now and then -- fully understanding that I can get back to the place, but not the time.

A few weeks ago I wandered the streets of my boyhood, accompanied by my Nashville pals Rudy Kalis and Terry Bulger.
We were there to attend a Masters tournament practice round.

I drove them through chunks of Augusta, pointing out significant landmarks of my childhood and beyond.

"That's where I went to kindergarten... and right there is where Bill Marsh pushed me onto my knees into a burning pile of leaves....."

"That's my old grammar school....."

"That's my old high school....." *(behind me in attached photo)*

"That's the polling place where I voted for the first time...."

"That's Augusta College, where I spent 2 years showing up for classes...."
(FYI... they've changed the name now to Augusta State University... a mistake in my opinion... Augusta College had a more distinctive ring to it)

"That's where I reluctantly got into a fist fight during my college days...."

Yep, I showed Rudy and Terry every nook and cranny of my youth.
They were courteous and -- I'm pretty sure -- they remained attentive.
We stepped onto the porch of the house where I lived from the age of 4 until I left the nest.
We walked the same paved sidewalk where I rode my bicycle.
Some of the pavement was still broken or uneven in the same places I remember.
I even recalled some of the trees, though they're impressively thicker now... but so am I.

My color commentary never stopped......

"That's the driveway I turned out of on my bike just a split second before being hit by a car......"

"The people who lived in this house owned a mean, loud and dangerous German Shepherd...."

"The former mayor of Augusta lived there...."

"The folks in this house bought the very first television set in the neighborhood....."

"I planted that tree with my grandfather more than a half century ago...."

"A blind couple lived here, and I recall that they could easily distinguish a $1 bill from a $5 bill.... I still don't know how they did it...."

"That used to be an open field, and that's where we played football...."

Then, the sight of one particular house -- across the street from where I had lived -- brought back something I'd not thought about for years.
It was the home of Mrs. Gardiner... a shadowy elderly woman who dressed mostly in black.

She had lived there alone since the death of her husband years earlier -- and she was rarely spotted outside, or anywhere.
The rumor among the kids was that she was a witch of some sort... and we had no reason not to believe it.
Her house was dark and intimidating.... seldom were there any lights turned on at night.... the grass and shrubs were overgrown.

The day she died, Mrs. Gardiner dropped to the ground right there in her yard.... barely 15 feet from where we kids walked every day.

For 8 days her body lay there in the tall grass.
Nobody noticed.

After authorities finally found and removed her, an eerie imprint of her body remained... clearly evident in the wilted grass.
I would stand with my young playmates, staring at that unsettling silhouette on the ground, a bit distressed by the sheer bizarreness of it all.
That was more than 50 years ago.

As I was describing those strange events to Rudy and Terry just weeks ago, I glanced over at the house where it all happened.

I noticed in the yard -- very near where Mrs. Gardiner had died -- two young girls, dressed in bright spring clothes, playing.
They appeared to be no more than 10 or 11 years old.
I could hear laughter as they ran across the well manicured lawn.

The fruit of time's passage is not always what we might expect.
Half a century later.... and Mrs. Gardiner's old house is vibrant, alive and enchanting.

The next day we headed home to Nashville.

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