"Happy Days Are Here Again" or Where to Find Happiness in a Red State

"Happy days are here again" is inscribed on a shot glass along with a picture of Franklin Delano Roosevelt that I bought last weekend. The cashier in the FDR Museum gift shop said, "There are two stories behind this shot glass, you know." I knew the first one--that was the song title of FDR's presidential campaign, and it is still played at Democratic conventions and election celebrations. The second story had slipped my mind--Prohibition was repealed during FDR's presidency. "Oh, yes," I told the cashier, "I have a photograph of my grandfather, who ran a tavern, with a portrait of FDR proudly displayed behind the bar." She said, "Oh, my, that gives me goosebumps!"

So, there is a soft spot in my heart for Roosevelt and all he did to lead the country out of Prohibition, the Depression, and through World War II. He died unexpectedly of a stroke on April 12, 1945, just as the Allies were racing to Berlin. The newspaper that day shows the map of Europe. We had already taken Wuerzburg; the Nazis still held Nuernberg. The headline proclaims: "57 Miles From Berlin." This paper is one of the many interesting artifacts at the FDR "Little White House" and Museum in Warm Spring, Georgia, about an hour and half south of Atlanta. The FDR State Park and the Roosevelt Warm Springs Rehabilitation Center are also nearby.

In fact, it was the natural warm springs that drew Roosevelt here to Georgia in 1924 in hopes of finding some relief from his polio. He bought the property, built pools and a treatment center, and then had a small house built. It was completed in 1932, when FDR was governor of New York. He continued to go there often during his four elected terms as president, which is when it became known as "The Little White House." And is here that he died.

The house, guest house, and servants' quarters are all preserved exactly. It's hard to imagine a president of the United States staying often in such humble surroundings. It reminds me very much of a modest vacation cottage one might rent in Wisconsin or Michigan--a tiny living room, three small bedrooms, dining room, kitchen and foyer, certainly not more than about 1,000 square feet. The interior is pine paneling and floors. There are four single beds. There is a large semi-circular patio off the back, overlooking the Georgia pine woods. Except for the Marine sentry shacks and one for the Secret Service, nothing would indicate a president lived there. That and FDR's indoor wheelchair.

There is a nice little FDR museum and a separate room dedicated just to the day he died. The museum has some great memorabilia, from FDR's swimming outfit to his 1929 Ford convertible that he drove himself. It was specially outfitted with hand levers for the crippled president. It's actually a real nice overview of FDR's personal life on a smaller scale. Photos of FDR are displayed with some of the artifacts, making them even more real. The so-called "Unfinished Portrait," for which FDR was sitting the very day he died, is on display, along with the cook's lunch menu for the day and the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

Although it is well off any beaten path, there were quite a number of visitors there on the Sunday I was, many of whom were foreign visitors. One of the displays in the museum shows three presidents who have visited the site (all Democrats, of course): President Kennedy, President Carter (who launched his campaign there), and President Clinton.

With such a huge historical Democratic presence in the county, I wondered how they voted nowadays and if FDR still had influence there. I came home and looked up the last presidential results, the one won by Democrat Barack Obama in 2010. Georgia is, of course, a "red" (Republican) state these days. Warm Springs lies in Meriwether County (pop. @ 22, 000). Obama earned 47% of the votes, losing narrowly to McCain. It's hard to fathom how that happened, and I'm pretty sure FDR isn't happy about it.

Sweet Auburn Curb Market

I had been to the DeKalb Farmers Market and the Buford Highway International Market but never heard of the Sweet Auburn Curb Market until I was recently invited there by someone new whom I met. Mickey wasn't just another customer there; she actually worked one day at week at the market helping a friend with a business there. So, she has an insider's view of the Curb Market, which is where I got most of this information.

It reminded me immediately of a smaller version of markets I'd seen in Boston, Baltimore, and Helsinki, with an assortment of butchers, bakers, candlestick makers and places to eat as well as fresh produce and a pharmacy. It has been around since 1918, first in a massive tent, and then in the building it still occupies, at 209 Edgewood Ave. SE near downtown Atlanta. At the time it was established, it was at the geographic center of Atlanta. Today, it's a quiet neighborhood (as quiet as it can be underneath I-75/85) near Georgia State University and Grady Memorial Hospital and adjacent to the Auburn Avenue/Martin Luther King, Jr. district.

It's a dichotomy, a market "in transition" in a neighborhood "in transition." That's a popular phrase here in Atlanta used to describe "sketchy" places. Anyway, it's perfectly safe and a fun place to go and hang out and shop and have some great food. It feels like you are going back in time except for the organic shops, restaurants, and coffee shop. Therein lies the dichotomy, and so the market it teetering on the edge, deciding if it has to be one thing or the other or if it can be everything to everybody.

Some of the newer "organic" businesses are having a tough time, and several have gone under. Yes, organic does cost more. Does the market have the customers to support it? Does it have the marketing? Can it? Can it compete with the bigger ones? Should it?

While the building is a classic from the early 1900s, it could perhaps draw more business, especially for the new vendors, with some renovations and improvements. A facelift, inside and out, better signage, improved parking, to start with, could only improve the "experience" of visiting the market, which should be part of the marketing campaign.

I will say this--I have never been able to find real Georgia peaches in the other markets or the supermarkets. So, where do they go? Maybe, just maybe, I will be able to get them here at the Curb Market.

Organic, authentic, delicous Italian food at Ciao Bocca!

Alles in Ordnung

On a recent trip to Germany, I was reminded again of German law and its long arm in the lives of people living there. This would never fly in the U.S. of A. where "individual rights" reign above all!

In Germany, if you have a sidewalk, you must shovel it free of snow by 7 A.M. so that people can walk to work or wherever. In Atlanta, (1) it rarely snows, (2) no one has a snow shovel, and (3) even if they did, just try and make them use it! Ha! "I don't want to" or "I don't have to" would be common responses (and those are the polite ones).

Germany has a number of "pet laws," including one that requires you to walk your dog every day for at least an hour. This would never fly in Atlanta, where dogs are left on their own in yards, on chains, or in the house for as long as the owner wants. Yes, there are many "good" owners who walk them, but they must be a minority, certainly less than half. My daughter had a neighbor in Augusta, GA, who moved and left the dog in the yard (he had a doghouse). The house remained empty and the own came once in a while to feed the dog. Sad, very sad.

One of Germany's newer pet laws requires the owner to secure a dog that is riding in a car with either a barrier between the dog and the driver or a leash and collar that are attached to the back seat, like a seatbelt for dogs. Much safer, don't you think? But in Atlanta, dogs ride in the back of pick-ups, in the front seat, or even on the driver's lap if they want.

Germans have laws for everything: you must wash your windows inside and out twice a year, refrain from hanging out laundry, washing your car, or cutting the grass on Sunday (a day of rest), and you can't have your car running if you are not in it (no matter how cold it is). There are hundreds more, and everything runs predictably and logically. But we American have the right to be noisy, disturb our neighbors, have dirty windows, and warm up our cars (and the air), don't we? It's good for us, so who has the right to regulate such things? They also are required to recycle by law. Five or more different containers to collect your trash and specific times and places to dispose of them. We are lucky to get people to put trash IN the compactor here.

"Alles in Ordnung" means "everything in order," which is very un-American.

Another Cultural Revelation: Krystal Pups

The American South has quite a number of franchise eating establishments that are famous in their own right: Chik-Fil-A, Waffle House, Checkers, and Krystal, come to mind immediately. I love Chik-Fil-A's chicken sandwich, peppermint shakes at Christmas, and (did you know?) their chicken soup. Waffle House is unbeatable for pecan-laced waffles, hash browns (scattered, smothered, and covered), and the only grits I love to eat! Checkers has the best chili dogs and everything take-out. Krystal was the only one I had yet to try.

I had heard that Krystal had mini hot-dogs, something like sliders, but in hot dog format. Now, I love hot dogs, so I was eager to try these out. Yes, Checkers has the best chili dog, but . . . I could not resist the idea of three little hot dogs. So, today, I had the opportunity to finally visit Krystal and try the mini hot dogs, which are called "pups." They come in three's, nestled together in a little rectangular paper tray, cute as can be! You can get them plain, with cheese, chili, or both. And they were as delicious as they were cute! Three or four bites, and one was gone! What a brilliant idea, Krystal! I told the counter boy/teen that this was our first time to have them. He asked where we were from. "Illinois," I answered! He had no reply for that. Illinois is missing out on something. With a little research, I found that Krystal originated in Chattanooga, TN in the Depression and is a "Southern thing." A good one.

Eavesdropping in America

Eavesdropping is something most people don't think about, even though they do it all the time. But, if you live in a foreign country and you don't speak or understand the language very well, you unlearn it. I lived for over twenty years in Germany and Italy and only had a little grasp of the two languages, even after taking courses and living there for so long. Never mind the reasons why, it just happens when you work and socialize with other Americans most of the time and your German and Italian friends happen to all speak perfect English! That's why they are your friends!

Anyway, you quickly stop even trying to eavesdrop, because it's all just blah, blah, blah or perhaps blacht, blacht, blacht or blimini, blimini, blimini! And I'm not kidding! Other people's conversations just become white noise when in restaurants, shops, or any public place where you hear these things.

Okay, so upon returning to the USA, where I actually speak and understand the language, I am a bit surprised to suddenly be able to hear and understand what used to be white noise. Throw in people talking in public on their cell phones, and it's a real circus! I think the ones I dislike the most are the ones with bluetooth devices who walk around talking to themselves.

Mostly, I'm surprised at the shallowness of the conversations, although I'm sure these things are really important to them. In my athletic club, there is a lot of social climbing and catty remarks by the younger women. They don't seem to have a lot of good things to say and even fewer important things. It's really small small-talk.

While I'm working out, there are always trainers working with people. Those are the funniest conversations. The older women, I swear, just have a trainer for someone to talk to. They do very little actually lifting or exercising and a lot of personal conversation with the trainer, usually a younger female. The men talk about girl/women troubles with their male trainers. The serious ones don't talk much at all. If there does happen to be an interesting conversation, I have to fight the urge to jump in . . . because I understand what they are saying about, say, Italy or education.

Just remember, we all can understand what you are saying! I kind of miss the days of blissful ignorance in Europe.

Wo ist mein Schnitzel?

"If I want a good schnitzel, I go home and make one," said my hair stylist Soeren Loeffler, who is from Germany and not about to waste his time on bad food, wine, beer, or cars. We were bemoaning the lack of a good German restaurant in Atlanta or environs. Like me, he has been to Helen (aka as "the fake German town") in northern Georgia and found the food as laughable as the town itself. Chattahoocheestrasse? Half-timbered Dairy Queen and SunTrust Bank? Live tarantula gallery?

So, when a new German restaurant, Der Biergarten, opened recently in downtown Atlanta by the Aquarium, I was eager to try it out. So, my friend Elaine and my daughter Alison and I went for lunch on a recent Sunday. We thought it was a good sign that several German-speaking groups were leaving as we arrived. The outside terrace was also promising--authentic German fest tables, flags, and signs. However, it was too hot to sit outside and so we went on in . . . to find a very non-authentic (but air-conditioned!) restaurant that looked like it might have been a minimalist Asian sports bar. Although they were out of several items, the service was friendly and fast, the beer was good (real German beer in real German beer glasses), the food was not bad. Alison thought probably the only authentic German person in the place might be the chef. We had decent O'batza (cheese ball) for an appetizer, wurst, red cabbage, potato salad, jaeger-schnitzel (with mushroom gravy), and spaetzle which were all good. No chance for dessert; they were all sold out. Our recommendations for them:

1. Get better outfits for the wait-staff than t-shirts and jeans.
2. Get someone to work there who at least looks like they might be German.
3. Teach them a few phrases in German or get someone who can speak it (we think they may bet a lot of German tourists).
   
4. Have available what's on the menu.
5. Get authentic beer coasters.
6. Get some German decor! (I have enough in boxes to decorate the place!)
7. Play oom-pah music instead of classical.
8. Put EuroSport on the big screen televisions.
9. Put the menu in both German and English with more explanation.
10. Sell souvenirs.
11. Hire Alison and/or me as a consultant.

So! (Popular German word!) Just one week later, I found myself going with my neighbor Patsy to a German Fest at her favorite local restaurant, Petite Auberge in our neighborhood. Although it has been there a million years and has a French name, it is owned by Germans and this fest was way better than Der Biergarten experience! It was jointly sponsored by the Atlanta German Cultural Center and they had games, decorations, German beer, great food (extensive menu), wonderful German band, a beer garden, souvenirs, and lots of people dressed in real German (Bavarian) clothing including lederhosen! It was wunderbar! Unfortunately, it lasts only two days in September each year, but they are hosting an Oktoberfest Buffet on October 23 ($35 for all you can eat, plus the band, cash for German beer and wine). It's got to be good if this night was any indication.

So, does Atlanta have a good German restaurant yet? No, but there is hope. One can always drive 130 miles to Augusta and eat at The Augsburg Haus. Now, there is real German food! They recently moved to a new location, so I don't know if it's as cute as the old one, but hopefully the food and beer are just as good. I've eaten there a couple of times and really love their Roulade (Beef steak roll stuffed with bacon, pickle, onion, and mustard and served with spaetzle and red cabbage).

Guten appetit! (Below, real Nuernberger bratwurt and kraut in Munich)

Easter at the Monastery

I wanted to find a special place to attend Easter Mass when my daughter Alison came to visit last week. I found a cathedral, a basilica, a university chapel, and a Trappist monastery. Alison chose the monastery, and it turned out to be a wonderful experience for us.

Atlanta is, of course, in the Southern Bible Belt, so there are hundreds of varieties of Protestant churches around, predominantly Baptist. In fact, on our way to the monastery, which was about forty-five minutes away, we passed many other churches, one with its own traffic cop and traffic jam. Eventually, though, we arrived at the entrance to the monastery, way out in the country by the town of Conyers, Georgia.

This particular monastery, called the Monastery of the Holy Spirit, was founded by Trappist monks in 1944. How it came to be in this place with very little Catholic presence can be found on their website. Today, forty-some monks live, work, and pray here.

I didn't know anything about Trappist monks, so I did a little research. They are an offshoot of the Cisterians, and they follow the Rule of St. Benedict. There are are only 170 Trappist monasteries in the whole world and only fifteen in the United States! So, they are pretty rare breed of monks (about 2,100) and nuns (about 1,800). Their job is to pray and work. They pray a lot, beginning at 4:00 in the morning with vigils and then another four times during the day. They also talk very little. Idle talk is "strongly discouraged," they do not talk during meals (but rather listen to readings), and the Grand Silence begins at 8:00 P.M. for all, even visitors.

Like other monks, they "live by the work of their hands." This particular monastery operates a thriving retreat business. Also, "The monks of Holy Spirit manufacture and sell bonsai supplies either online or at their monastery bonsai garden store. They also operate a green cemetery located in a secluded section of the vast monastery property. Stained glass windows and doors are created onsite and sold online and the monastery also operates a fruitcake and fudge business. Their fruitcakes are sold both through their own religious store and also through Honeybaked Ham stores." You can see their website www.bonsaimonk.com.

Okay, so back to the Easter Mass . . . the 11:00 service was full but not crowded. People have to drive quite a distance to get there, but there were families and people of all kinds. We were allowed to sit in the actual monks' benches since they had sung at the 4:30 sunrise service. That was very cool, because I had only ever seen them, never sat in them for a service before. All of their many binders of music and readings were neatly laid open at each place. In fact, it was very AVIDY with all those binders, which kept them organized! (See photo below.)

At least twenty of the monks attended this Mass and sat up on the altar. It was amazing to hear them sing parts of the Mass. I would really like to come again and hear the entire group together. Everything was slow, peaceful, smooth, and spiritual, with lots of incense, singing, and reverence. No cell phones, no talking, no distractions. To us, this was the perfect Easter Mass in the perfect setting. Outside, the sun was shining and everything was in bloom. We left with a promise to return again another day.