I am in Columbia, Georgia, and we plan to visit the Civil War Naval Museum tomorrow. We have the rental car, not upgraded to a minivan, and drove the two hours to get here from Montgomery, Alabama. Dondrea took the wheel, and I was the co-pilot, and we crossed into Eastern Time now. I am at the Holiday Inn Express, but missed a room for myself, but no matter, they had a room, and it was quickly corrected.
When we reached the hotel area, I found The Charred Oak Kitchen, a whiskey bar with food, to be a middle-of-the-road choice for dinner, and near the hotel. The place was loud, but the food was good and the drinks were not bad. I had an Old Fashioned, though they offered a Sazerac with New Orleans rye. We talked about what we learned and church planning.
With dinner done, we checked into the hotel with no issues. Except that this hotel does not have in-room coffee makers. Ugh! I then started this blog with plans to finish it on Saturday morning. I only wrote a few hundred words, then went to bed and soon fell asleep. I did wake often, but I managed a peaceful, empty sleep.
Before this, Dondrea stopped at Buc-ee’s. This is a truck stop-like place (though semi’s and the like are not allowed) and filled with Buc-ee’s options. None of us had ever been to one, and we were all staring in amazement. It has the feel of a heavily branded department store, Costco, and a tourist trap, all unflinchingly combined into a consumer wonderland. As if Disney had gone madly commercial and replaced the mouse with a beaver and sold four-foot-tall nutcrackers with a happy beaver head on them. Because they had them for sale!
It was fun and a great break from the processing of the last sad and painful museums and monuments on our tour. Some of us were pale and feeling physically ill from what we experienced in the museum and monuments (I had a headache and was dizzy). Now we are getting pictures with Buc-ee! It was fun and helped us unwind; we were all laughing and smiling from that mad stop.
Moving to late afternoon, Dondrea and I picked up the minivan after sharing an Uber with others from the tour who needed to get a car. Pastor Ken went with us, but they did not have a car for him; he was frustrated and also concerned that the van would be uncomfortable with us seven. We made it work; we were traveling only for an hour or so, maybe at the most two hours, and we could make it work. Dondrea took the wheel, and we picked up everyone at the hotel. We had everyone else hang out at the hotel to be comfortable; you never know how long the rental car process will take. They took my credit card info twice, and I had to produce my insurance card (via the Allstate App, which required two-step verification to get it). I forgot I had it in the Wallet app.
We were comfortable and talked while we rode. Some of us even slept. Three in the back bench and the rest in two sets of seats. The Pacifica drove well and fast in the dark, and CarPlay navigation helped.
The morning started with me rising early, dressing again in a dress shirt with a sweater vest, and discovering that Dondrea was already at Starbucks and got me a pastry and coffee. We were soon back on the tour, with our bags, off to the Legacy Museum, housed in a building that once held slave auctions and a cotton warehouse.
The museum is full of sensory and intellectual overload and fills you with despair as you come to grips with the message that slavery has been here since 1619, and the labor of slaves was the source of much wealth in the colonies and the USA. This is not guilt, though there is some of that; it is the realization (and it hurts) of the willingness of so many to take and do to others what they should not. You want it to stop and peace and love to be found, but instead you hear and read more failure. The people enslaved are released into a new terror and then another. Finally, the Room of Reflection brings you some peace.
I wrote this in my notebook:
The emotion and tears of the display, my tears, are nearly overwhelming when I enter the Reflection Room and hear a hymn and see words of encouragement: “We Shall Overcome.” Tears come again, and I walk here as a witness. My eyes are damp.
I buy a t-shirt that says “just mercy” and join the others. We are all pale and shaken.
The National Memorial of Peace and Justice focuses on lynching, and there are hanging metal boxes for each area where this terror occurred, with dates and names. It appears peaceful, but is sad, and beautiful. It is a terrible ending for someone, and there is no peace here, just recognition. This place remembers and convicts.
At the waterfalls in the dark base of the memorial, I write:
Only tears, silence, the sound of water, and light filtered by the monument here.
I find these words there: “a just and peaceful future” and “this nation to claim our difficult history.” I think about that.
Sort of mixed up and trying to process, we reboard the bus and head to lunch. My feet are sore from standing, but it seems only minutes have happened, not hours. BBQ in the basement dining room near our hotel is terrific. After the shocks, I was surprised to be hungry, and the food was nearly perfect BBQ (though the BBQ sauce had more vinegar than we are used to; the local version). I do not talk that much to folks. I am still shocked.
DeSean tells his story, and I will not repeat it here—I like people to tell their own. But also, I only heard some of it. My mind was still not recovered, and my focus was gone. We finish the tour, and I am happy to end there. We say our goodbyes, and it is hard not to be happy that it is over, but we will miss our new friends. Every ‘hello’ comes with a ‘goodbye.’
Thanks for reading.
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