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Georgia Green Stamper – Georgia On Her Mind

  • Georgia – On her mind: Deciphering modern Morse

    I’m learning the Morse Code. I got the idea from a movie I saw this summer. In one of those light-bulb-flashing-over-my-head moments, I realized this could bridge the communication gap between my young adult children and me. They only communicate by texting now, and with my clumsy old thumbs and last century spelling, I’m left out of the conversation. Re-invent the telegraph, I say, with its finger friendly dashes and dots in plain old English!

  • Georgia: On my mind: Hanging on through the heat

    It hit 103 in our driveway today, and I don’t have the energy left to muster an exclamation point.
    Hot’s novelty, folks, has worn off.
    Here in Kentucky, we’re moving into the 10th consecutive day of a record-breaking heat wave. Our grass has lost its will to live, and Ernie and I spend our days carrying handfuls of water to the ferns on the deck. “Hang on,” we whisper, “hang on.”

  • Georgia: On my mind - My memories of the world’s longest creek

    It was one mile short of being a river, folks said when I was a child, and I believed them. Eagle Creek was our Nile, sustaining our livelihood, nurturing our culture. Its winding path had carved out our place on earth a million years before the mighty Ohio was born, mapping where the hearts of my people would rest. Even the edge of the sky stopped at a wall of tall, boney sycamore trees that grew along its banks.

  • Where have all the Garys, Ronnies and Larrys gone?

    It was a joyful morning at the make-believe circus. The children sang big top songs
    as loud as they could, and on cue, they cackled like monkeys and roared like lions. The 2-year-olds class at our grandson’s nursery school was in rare form for the end
    of the year program.
    Sadly, though, Charles and Donnie missed the show. Roger, Richard, and Jerry
    weren’t there either, and neither was Ed.
    To be honest, they would have felt out of place. All the other little boys had first

  • Stand up and get some respect night owls

    The world is divided into two kinds of people, those who rise with the sun and those who don’t.
    The morning folks cornered the world market on worms centuries ago, and have the best PR staff in the business. Early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise – oh, their press releases go on and on.
    Personally, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the sun come up. Oh, maybe in my youth when I pulled colicky babies through the night, but I lived in Ashland then, in a hilly forest cut off from the rest of the natural world by industrial smog.

  • Georgia: On my mind - Ice cream should be classified as addictive

    I had just finished tossing my bath salts into the trash, and swept the medicine cabinet clear of cold meds, when news of ice cream’s walk on the wild side popped up on my computer.  At first I couldn’t believe what I was reading. Surely, words like addiction, poison, and sin tax didn’t belong in the same sentence with a double scoop of butter pecan.

  • Today’s villain was once a holiday hero

    For a 100 years, maybe 200, my Owen County family relied on growing tobacco for their economic health. Of course, they did not know how unhealthy smoking was for their bodies, but even understanding that as I do now, I am stunned that within a handful of years, six bent barns have come to stand empty.  Fertile fields lie fallow. And the mammoth tobacco auction warehouses that once dominated towns like Carrollton, Cynthiana, and Lexington have become, like dinosaurs, extinct overnight.

  • R.I.P. - Thanksgiving

    News Bulletin  - Unidentified sources report that Thanksgiving, an apparent target in the worldwide economic war, was killed in a hit and run incident on Main Street, USA, on or about Nov. 1.

  • Helpful hand had a hankering for hominy

    I hadn’t thought about hominy in years, much less eaten it, until last week when I was wandering in the Mega-Mart.
    I stopped in my tracks when I spotted it hanging out on a bottom shelf near the back of the store. I felt like I’d bumped into an old friend, and so I picked up a can to say hello.

  • Family treated ‘the help’ with kindness and respect

    His name popped up in my e-mail with uncanny timing. I was deep into planning the 80th reunion of The Rev. Silas A. Hudson’s descendants, and a few days earlier, I’d been to see “The Help,” a movie about racial prejudice encountered by black domestic workers circa 1963 Mississippi.  You see, Leon R. Harris (1886-1960) was a black writer who spent most of his childhood living in my white great-great-grandfather’s Kentucky home.