Sunday Atlanta

It was nice to rise on a Sunday in Atlanta. We did not have to pack or change hotels today. It has been a week of hotel changes. But not today, but it is an early start, as we have church today.

We managed to make a 9ish exit with Seth and Michael R letting me tie some ties for them. We look good. A short trip, various maps, and we are there and parking.

The folks at Ebenezer Baptist Church, Martin Luther King Jr.’s church, welcome us and are amazed that we have come so far to worship with them. They direct us with smiles, and I fill out paperwork for our small group. The ambassadors, wearing badges, greet us and turn us over to ushers who seat us. We sit about 1/3 of the way in. We are introduced and stand in the welcoming part of the service. I open a hymnal and learn it is given by Rev. Scott, who is associated in my mind with the King family.

We sing and enjoy the service, and we have ideas for improvement at our church. Here is the service recorded and made available on YouTube. The building can hold about 3 or 4 times as many people as our building in Oregon. The sound system, video systems, and music are excellent.

The service was full of joy, and the sermon was more like a reminder of what we already know, but it was a journey to remember what is essential. The sermon was delivered in a style that reminded me of MLK, Andrew Young, and Jesse Jackson. The pauses, the “Turn to your neighbor and tell them ‘That is not true,'” the pointing out of failed promises, the sliding into a political statement about shining sunlight on the Epstein files and related transcripts, and all intermixed with ‘Amen.’

After the service, we walked over to the historical church, now unused, and took pictures. Around the corner is the King Center, which is open, and there are the graves of MLK and his wife in a reflection pool. The eternal flame is still out; it was recently vandalized and has not yet been restored. Freedom Hall also offered another bookstore and merchandise. There, I picked out some small things that fit easily in my luggage. I was chatting with the staff, laughing and telling stories.

(Michael R. playing for us)

I skipped the displays, I am sure they are well done, and sat outside, but security reminded me that you may not sit on the wall of the reflecting pool and pointed out tables to use. There was no sign, but I looked and everyone was using the proper benches and tables, feeling foolish for my faux pas, and I immediately complied.

The soundtrack was a replay of MLK speeches while I sat properly on the bench, and being here at his and his wife’s grave, hearing his words on a perfect fall day here in Atlanta, made my eyes damp. Another powerful reminder, within sight of Ebenezer Baptist Church and around the corner from the home where Martin Luther King Jr. was born, of the movement he led here and across the USA.

But there was trouble. I walked over to the National Park section to find no one working, but everything was fenced off, supposedly unsafe, and under construction. There is no construction work visible. Just another excuse to erase uncomfortable history. I walked to the house where MLK was born; it, too, was fenced and boarded up, with signs and write-ups about the closing and two years of construction planned. All on order of the Secretary of the Interior. I was angry now, and it was a reminder of the worst of politics.

The shop, operated by the Park service, was open and contained many of the same items as the Freedom Center. But I was too unhappy to help fund this travesty with cash. Only this was open in a remodeled house next to the closed house.

I met the group who had finished and acquired various merchandise. I waved them off from the National Park as it was all closed. We instead returned to the rental minivan, and Dondrea headed north to the Civil War Battlefield, Kennesaw Mountain National Battlefield Park. We found Come-n-Get It on the way. They served chicken-fried chicken with sawmill gravy, fried okra, and other southern specialties. It was perfect and everyone was full and happy.

We traveled about another 15 minutes and discovered, as warned, that the visitor center access road was blocked by county construction. We then parked in overflow and walked to the center. I paid the $5 parking fee using a QR code while we walked. It went better when I used the correct credit card (not AMEX) and applied the correct security code! I kept using the code from my bank card and not my Visa.

The mark is marvelous, and the museum and rangers were friendly and knowledgeable. One of the cannons on this display is shown in a photo from later battles, when it was captured. They can make out the serial number in one of the photos. The show is a 30+ minute film of high quality that reminds me of Ken Burns and other documentaries.

We enjoyed walking through some of the park, then drove around the area, seeing many mansion-like homes, more sights, and some of the marked locations from the battles. I will have to be back.

We returned to the hotel, and we agreed to meet at Waffle House at 7:30ish. I started to pack and talked to Deborah for a while. I wrote postcards I got at the battlefield park’s shop. It was the first place I saw a Confederate flag for sale; yes, in a Federal shop.

We tried out the waffle joint, but it was only open for to-go orders. Instead, across the street was Laughing Taco, which I saw in my searches and was curious about. The food was marvelous, with a Day of the Dead theme for the place. You had to order on machines; there is no waiter, they deliver the food (or to-go bags), and we found a table and enjoyed too much food (again). It was only a few blocks away, and we were soon back at the hotel.

I talked to Deborah as she fell asleep. I packed and started the blog. At 11, I set my alarm and went to sleep. I woke from dreams, barely remembered now, of traveling and trying to find my way home. No nightmares.

Thanks for reading.