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Savannah, Georgia is one of my favorite cities. Younger than London, older than San Francisco, with a degree of quirk rivaled only by New Orleans, Savannah is a six hour (if Atlanta traffic is agreeable) drive from my home in the northwestern corner of the state.  Comparing my region with that of Savannah is an exercise in futility; they are worlds apart. One is lower Appalachia, with rolling green hills and valleys, creeks and waterfalls. The other is coastal Georgia, low country, wetlands. Even the cultures and accents are sufficiently different as to make a new acquaintance appear surprised when they ask where you're from and you reply "Georgia." Something neither place lacks is ghosts, but you probably knew that, didn't you? View this YouTube video by Dixie After Dark for a bit of info on Georgia's first ghost, Alice Riley. I love writing about Savannah. I can almost see the Spanish moss and smell the pot of low country boil!

During my childhood, when I-75 was a divided four lane and Highway 41 was still the main road through town and smaller roads snaked over and between the hills, the Willowdale bridge crossed Mill Creek along one of those side streets. That is, until The Day The Truck Tried To Cross. On that day in the late 70s, a truck driver tried to drive too large a truck over too small a bridge, causing a collapse and putting the truck in the creek below. My dad insisted we go have a look, so into the car and on the way we went.  It was quite a sight for my young eyes and the memory still feels fresh. My wife, who lived nearby, remembers the event well, as I suppose all who saw it did.  Willowdale is also the site of a train derailment many years ago. Here's the story as told by Norman Blake: The bridge was decommissioned long ago and has fallen into disrepair. A walking trail has replaced the road, but the remains of the bridge still stand.

In a previous post, I mentioned I have resumed writing. It's good therapy and a fine creative release. Here's an update on my efforts: I've completed one story and submitted it to the William Faulkner Literary Competition. It's a short piece and I don't expect anything to come of it, but I'm pleased with the story and submission. A new short story has been started, a ghost story set in the South. This is quite natural, as I'm a Southerner who loves a good ghost story. It's set in a nearby town with Civil War history. What began as a short story is now looking more like a novel. The idea is simple but as I was making notes, it dawned on me that this is much more than a short story. I plan to finish the aforementioned story before jumping into the longer piece. Lastly, I'm taking notes furiously as ideas come. I'm very much enjoying the return to writing. Unlike during previous attempts to write, I...

By Willi Heidelbach, CC BY 2.5 , Link I am the proud father of a young son who, for the last two school years, has a won writing contest his grade level. Last year's piece was a retelling of the Great Locomotive Chase of the Civil War from the point of view of the engineer of the stolen train. This year's tale was of a zombie apocalypse in which I defended home and hearth with a large iron skillet. I cook with a large iron skillet and have full faith in its ability as a defensive weapon against the undead. My son has inspired me to take up writing, a practice I pursued as a younger man with little to say and not much experience to draw from. At midlilfe, I have more to reflect on and put to paper. I have a short story completed and am outlining another. After working in spreadsheets all day, I look forward to going home and working in a word processor. (That's not entirely a joke) My method begins with the Vim text editor, a piece of software more suited to programmi...

I've recently begun watching Curb Your Enthusiasm. I'm years late to the party but better late than never, I say. It's a very funny show and one I enjoy watching. And, as with everything I enjoy, there's something strange going on. Larry David and I are a lot alike. Not physically, we're opposites there, like Disney villians or Pinky and The Brain. Our likeness comes in the form of a shared eccentricity, one part neurosis, one part paranoia, and the rest comprised of all the weirdness around us. eam of conscuious talking? Check. Answering my own questions? Check. All the constant yelling and name calling? Absent, thankfully. I like peace and quiet in the physical world to offset the storm in my mind. then there are the little things: a love of spongecake. Good Chinese food. I even carry a small Swiss Army Knife with scissors like the one Larry used to cut Judy the doll's hair. s strange to see a character who reminds one of oneself, but at least my ...

I lost my Dad this week. At 82 years of age, he'd lived a long life pretty much on his own terms. Congestive Heart Failure kept him in and out of hospitals for the last six months, and in ICU for two weeks. It was in ICU where he realized the end was near. We had our most meaningful conversations there, in spite of his growing weakness. Lots of "Remember when" stories, a few "What if" stories, and sadly, very few words of final wishes. Fortunately, he'd mostly settled that with my stepmother. I and a few other family members were present at the moment of his passing. There is no greater closure than to be holding the hand of a loved one as the end comes, and I'm forever grateful to have been there when the end came for Dad. A few hectic days followed, mostly involving legal documents and such. Tonight, my wife, son, and I went to see a ballet and returned to find our cat of 17 years dead on his blanket. I'm one of those "pets are family to...