My World and Welcome to it…………………………………………..Festivals

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Georgia, Southern ways

Most everyone knows how Georgians love their football. Football games are events, festivals if you will. It is difficult to say how many people at the games actually know the score or even who wins the game but there are always side shows to watch. For example the restroom races and the concession stand dash occurs all through the games. Football Games are such a part of my world that it will be addressed in a later post but not right now.

The thing is that as much as Georgia’s love affair with football is common knowledge their fondness for festivals is less well known. Georgians love their festivals so much that they are always creating new ones. Here is a sampling of just a few of Georgia’s festivals:  There are insect festivals like a gnat festival (I am not making this up) and a mosquito festival. There are animal festivals like Donkey Days, Deer Days, and Turkey Days. There are flower festivals like the Camilla Festival, Cherry Blossom Festival and the Crepe Myrtle Festival.  There are fruit festivals like the Watermelon Festival, the Strawberry and Peach Festival. There are food festivals like the Chicken Pot Pie Day and the Big Pig Jig.  There are weather related festivals like Beaver Creek Day (a celebration of a town surviving a flood 23 years earlier).There are music festivals like the Mossy Creek Music Festival and Civil War reenactments. There are a lot more festivals going on throughout the year but these are just the ones that come to mind off the top of my head.

To the relief of my readers I won’t be addressing most of these festivals but if there is one that I do not address message me. Even if I don’t know much about I will make up what I don’t know. It should make a pretty good story.

In Georgia when you talk about festivals you have to talk about family reunions. Family reunions are a lot like festivals in that they are annual events and can last up to four days. Some families are so large that cousins can know each other for years and not know that they are related until they meet in the community one day and discover that they are cousins only after they talk about a family reunion that they both attended some 4 months earlier. I won’t do more than just touch briefly on family chalk (Kaolin) eating festivals that more than just a few families participate in. I became aware of these festivals 3 months after we had moved to Georgia. We had just had our first visit with our new family doctor when he asked us if we ate chalk. SAY WHAT? He kindly very slowly said, “I only ask you this because if you do eat chalk it thins your blood.” I found out later that eating chalk won’t make you high it just makes you feel real fine and when you are feeling that fine  all ya wanna do is just sit around doin nothing.

 A festival that is memorable to say the least is “The Big Pig Jig”. This is a three day barbecue contest with usually about 50 beer drinking barbecue cooking larger than life good ol boys barbecuing away. Unfortunately the only people who get to taste the barbecue are the good ol boys and the staggering judges who taste the barbecue between beers. The beer trucks travel in and out of the 2 acre site for all three days as quickly as cars going through a fast food drive in. Red necks and good ol boys are everywhere at this festival. This is the ultimate way to see the underbelly of the human condition. At The Big Pig Jig there is the highest amount of testosterone in the smallest space of anywhere in Georgia and we are just talkin about the women!

A festival that drips gratitude for all the people who came together to rebuild a town that was devastated by a flood some 23 years earlier is The Beaver Creek Festival. The way they do this is to send hundreds of plastic ducks 500 yards down a creek named after a large rodent. Most of the ducks are bought for $5.00 each by anyone or most everyone who comes to the Beaver Creek Day.

In our part of the USA the Civil War commonly called the illegal uprising forced on the south by the evil Yankees from up north is still being fought, at least by some. When the unfairness of it all becomes too much for the genteel folks down here they can always come to Andersonville for a Civil War Reenactment where the brave armies of the south almost always beat them da*** treacherous Yankees from the north. Before the battles one can walk around town drinking sweet tea and eatin gator on a stick, drink cokes from metal schooners (authentic like) see a western gun fight which is about 2,000 miles east of where these things usually occur. Just for the record the South’s gonna rise again.

Not far from where I live is a blue grass festival that I have gone to for the last two years. I keep hopin to hear blue grass music. I have heard a lot of good guitar pickin, dulcimer and auto harp playin, even some flute and celtic harp playin but no blue grass. There is glass blowin, quilt makin, corn husk furniture makin, and fishin lure makin but no blue grass playin……………….sigh

There are other festivals worth stopin by some I have even gone to. There are a few that there just ain’t no way I will ever be found at, like the dadgum gnat festival or the Mosquito festival. As I think about it I don’t think that there is a Cockroach Festival…………………………….hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. If we had a Roach Stomp at night, maybe a cockroach costume contest, possibly even a cockroach callin contest. Well so that’s how these festivals get started………………………………wow.

My World and Welcome to it……………………..Youneek Fire Ants……THIS IS NOT A DRILL Part II

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Ants, Fire Ants, Georgia, signs, Southern ways

Close Encounters With The Worst Kind

When this story really began we were busy lying I mean reminiscing while he was preparing the grill. He almost had the fire just right but asked me to go get some more wood from the wood pile. He either forgot to warn me or assumed I knew to be careful of fire ants in the wood pile. I had never heard much less seen ants of any kind in a wood pile. He chose that moment to tell a particularly funny story. I half looked at the logs I was picking up. I quickly brought six logs that I was cradling in my bare arms to my friend. I set the logs down near the grill just when the story got to it’s funniest when I felt what can only be described as every inch of my arms were tickling.

I looked down desperately trying to find the source of my discomfort. My skin is not pale white but it is not then or now red but when I looked down at my arms, they were very red. I looked closer and my arms were alive……I was at a loss at what was happening but suddenly when I should have been laughing the feeling in my arms turned from ticklish to being on fire. I had come in contact with “Fire Ants.” The good ol boy was absolutely right I would never forget my close encounter with the worst kind.

My friend is very much like me when it comes to telling a story. He pretty much is unconscious of what his audience is experiencing especially when they are on fire. I am told that I did not cuss ( though I desperately wanted to but with women and children who could cuss better than me I did not want to embarrass myself) instead I began to run in circles trying to get the “Fire Ants” off of my arms saying over and over again, “I really think I have a problem.” My friend’s 8 year old son said, “Hey look Dad, he’s got “Fire Ants” on his arms.” Ya think? I have never in my life felt anything like the pain I felt at that moment. This was not a time for anyone no matter how young they were, to state the obvious. At the moment my attention was focused elsewhere. I was seeing red. Shoot, I was on fire.

Looking back I am amazed when I think about how the fire ants did it. Hundreds of ants climbed off the logs that I was carrying on to my arms. They waited until as many as could fit on arms arrived before a chemical signal was given and they all stung/bit me at once. Theoretically and on paper it is an interesting concept but experiencing it is another story. I was able to get the “Fire Ants” off of my arms more quickly than I would have thought possible due to my extreme panic I suppose, thank goodness. Almost as soon as I got the “Fire Ants off of my arms huge blisters formed on to put it bluntly arms that were probably not my best feature to begin with and after the “Fire Ant Attack became my worst feature. On top of that I was still on fire. My friend’s wife had me put vinegar on it which helped for some reason and made me smell like a cucumber it eased the pain though…………some. To make things worse I felt hot and cold and sick to my stomach.

I was glad that Sunday was the next day because it gave me a day to heal. This helped but not much. I teach students who have profound mental challenges. One of the best things about my students is that they say what they think. I came to work in a short sleeve shirt since long sleeves stuck to my arms. As my students got off of the bus one of the students took one look at me and said, “Mr. Ewing, I don’t mean to be rude but your arms are ugly and I can’t look at you with your arms so ugly please cover them up. She began to cry. I quickly borrowed a long sleeve shirt from the football coach (why he had one I will never know since he always wore a t-shirt and shorts). I was to have to wear a long sleeve shirt for a month until I completely healed. I did obviously lose this battle but I have never lost another one quite like that. I regularly get bit/stung by ants of all kinds including “fire Ants” not often but sometimes. When I do it doesn’t do anything other than to strengthen my resolve to win this war, a war that can only be called “The War of the Ants in my World.”

The thing is after my encounter with the worst kind I do not hate ants especially “Fire Ants”. In fact I greatly admire them. One could say that I even respect them and approach any “Fire Ant” with caution. I am however at full and complete WAR with them. I now know of their cunning and deviousness. I know that they are ever watchful ever careful always on the lookout. I might be called paranoid but I have seen their ANTics. I have been ANTagonized by them. They may not be giANTs but they are large in their ANTicipation of every any enemy’s moves. I have seen how these ANTs are everywhere. There are lots and lots of uncles and ANTS with lots and lots of dependANTs. Their military tactics are anything but ANTiquated. Oh I have had my victories I guess and they have been sweet but there are always a few left who are quiet defiant. They will never accept defeat and become compliANT. It is time for me to stop this rANT before it becomes redundant.

Next Football and Fairs in My World

My World and Welcome to it………………………….Youneek………..FIRE ANTS THIS IS NOT A DRILL

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Ants, Georgia, Southern ways

Not to repeat myself but ants truly are unique. Each ant has a specific job to do and each one does it. As far as I can tell each ant does their job as best as they can do it, never arguing with other ants, never complaining always doing their job.

Well most of the time they don’t complain although I remember one time after I had drunk 6 straight large Mochas I had just taken the top off an ant colony to apply chemical warfare. I was watching all of the ants hurrying and scurrying about. I saw the ant EMTs and ant law enforcement checking for external danger. I saw the ant engineers and architects assessing the damage. I saw the ant carpenters and road crews already moving earth about to repair the damage. I saw the preschool teachers/hospital workers moving ant eggs about and then I also saw one lone ant whom I assume was trying to talk on his cell phone but was in dead zone.

I got down on my hands and knees and snuck up on the ant which wasn’t that easy seein as how shaky I was from all those mochas. Just as I was about to squeeze him I heard him say or at least I think that I heard him say to no one in particular “Just when I didn’t think my day could get any worse a big monster has to show up to murder me, what else can happen to me today?” I looked around and didn’t see any other ant or anyone else (he had to be on a cell phone, what else could it be?). Of course by this time my eyes were having difficulty focusing as there seemed to be something wrong with my vertical hold. It was all I could do to hang on to my 7^th mocha but I digress.

For those who are not familiar with fire ants the best way to describe them is just as in the insect world where gnats are the air force, ants are the army, and fire ants are the commandos/ green berets all wrapped up in one. They are the best organized, best lead most disciplined army in the insect and animal kingdom. If they were human size they would be a formidable opponent of any military, especially since they have chemical weapons and are not afraid to use them.

When I first arrived in Georgia people kept asking me if I had been around fire ants yet. I figured that it had to be some sort of trick question. To be fair over the years I have had a fair number of these questions asked and a fair number of tricks played on me for whatever reason. To list just a few: I have been on snipe hunts (late at night), jackalope trapping (they had to be real I saw a sort of rabbit head with antlers on two or three of my friends’ walls) and grunion fishin which surprisingly enough turned out to be real but for the most part is just an excuse for drunks to roll around on a beach after midnight giggling like crazy. In addition I have been given a really hot pepper and told that it was a pickle, given anchovy juice and told it was lemon lime soda so after a lot of gullible moments I take great pride in being very cautious. I was even more suspicious of the so called “Fire ants” when I considered that Georgia seems to has a great fondness for red food coloring. It can be found in red velvet cake, hot dogs and pickled pigs feet. For me it made sense that fire ants had to be like red ants. They had to be a joke. I was to find out how terribly unfunny fire ants could be.

One of the last times I was asked by one of three old fellas if I had met any fire ants I said, “No but I just bought some red hot candy.” The man that asked me turned to the other two and asked “What did he just say? I swear if I didn’t know any better I’d say that boy’s a Yankee.” The third old guy pointed a finger at me and said, “Boy when you meet them fire ants you aint never gonna forget em. You be careful of em or you just might not be able sit for a very long time. Once again everyone laughed. I had become just more than a little annoyed at being laughed at. Looking back I realize now that these good ol boys were making fun of me and warning me at the same time. I wish that I had taken their warning seriously.

To this day I am still not sure if my buddy from childhood, my best man who I thought so highly of, to the man who convinced me to move my world to Georgia set me up for what was to be one of THE MOST PAINFUL EXPERIENCE of my life or if he just assumed that I had already met fire ants before I came to his house for a barbecue.

It was 4 months since we had moved to Georgia, a typical October Saturday. It was not terribly warm only in the mid-80s so was a perfect day for a barbecue. I was old even back then. When 2 old boys get together they tell stories (kinda like this). Most of them began with “Do you remember” and then you make up the rest. Of course we always said, “Oh ya that was a great memory but do you remember ………….” and then it was another turn at lyin but it was and is great fun. To be truthful I think I might have lied a lot more than he did that day but it’s impossible for me to know since I remember very little of what he remembers.

A brief caveat here: Some guys get together and open adult beverages to help with the ambiance. As I think about it I wish that I had as it would have helped ease what I was to experience shortly after this story began.

End Of Part 1                               Next Part II Fire Ants This is Not a Drill.

My World and Welcome to it…………………………………..Yuneek………….Ants Oh Man the Ants

As I think about all that is unique in my world it occurs to me that just because something is unique does not mean that I have to like it. Take ants for example. Ants are an amazingly interesting and unique insect. They are found in every continent on earth except antarctica. There are about 22,000 species of ants and somehow most of those species can be found in my yard. An ant can live up to 30 years but not within a mile of me. Ants can have huge colonies but not in my world.

To say I am not a fan of ants is like saying that sometimes it gets a little hot in Georgia. It’s not that I dislike ants………………..oh it’s way more than that. It’s war. To the ant lovers who may be reading this post I have just one thing to say…………..They started it.

*** Caveat  I interrupt this fine story to post the following disclaimer: For those of you who know me know that one of my 15 careers was as a pest controller. Any who have read my work would know that I have written about gnats and cockroaches in a not too positive way. Some readers may have read my story about learning to dance from a cockroach by reading my account in a fondly remembered writing group called Gather and an outstanding book written by Pam Brittain. To a degree I do but since I am allergic to pain of any kind or for that matter excess itching I am in fact prejudiced against many insects but not all (I really do like butterflies and bees). To be fair I am also prejudiced against some plants (like poison ivy, oak, stinging nettles and any vine that has thorns and grows over 20 feet). Now back to the post that was so rudely interrupted.

I haven’t always been at war with ants. When I was small I had an ant farm for a little while until I accidently tilted it to where they all made a clean escape. As far as I could see they headed towards my parents’ bedroom then made a bee line to their bed where my father was taking a nap. When I saw the line of ants leaving my room it looked kind of like they were heading towards my parents’ room but I wasn’t altogether sure. I became certain of it when my dad who was wearing just his tidy whities ran out of his room with his arms flailing around trying to reach his back,brushing his arms and legs with his undershirt. While doing all that he was also jumping up and down like he was on a trampoline and then rolling on the floor while yelling what sounded like abs, ans, ants or something. My Dad had just gotten after me for my room being a pigsty or something at least I think that was what he was getting after me for but I rarely listened. The thing was those were my ants so my sympathy was with the ants.

If you read Pam Brittain’s book you would read about how a cockroach taught me to dance. I wrote how that until the roach made laps in my pants I was unable to dance even a few steps and that how I drove 1 choreographer to tears and another to drugs when they attempted to teach me to dance………………….well I have a confession to make, in that story I lied. I had in fact danced once before a long while earlier and I did really well though I would not think of it as dancing for some years to come. What I did wasn’t really dancing anyways, it was more of a partial strip tease. It happened on the day I had ants in my pants.

As a pest controller I always felt like somewhat of a hero. I could take care of problems that would make a grown man scream and a grown woman climb chairs. The day I had ants in my pants was a day I felt particularly heroic. I arrived at a house of a beautiful young newlywed. She and her husband had ant problems and it had been going on for over 5 weeks. The problem was that even after 3 pest controllers they couldn’t find the nest. I was pretty good at that sort of thing, a little too good.  I located the colony with out a lot of effort, even without knowing that I had. I not only found the colony I was in fact standing on top of it. I was had in effect become the ants new tower. Unknown to me as soon as I had planted my feet on top of the colony ants from all over entered my pant legs for whatever reason. By the time I understood the situation the part of me that will remain unmentioned was under attack…………..in a big way. I knew that I had to make a major change…………. soon.

I was there to do a job even when I was under attack. As soon as I did it I ran to my truck but the attack had become very personal by this time. There was no time to lose, my pants simply had to go. I tried to run to my truck. My truck unfortunately was parked in front of the house in a very busy neighborhood. If there had been just a few less ants I might have been able to avoid my dance and make it to the cab of the truck where I could remove my pants discreetly but the attack had grown more vicious and more intense. I had run out of time before I could get to the truck.

My dance was more of a partial strip tease than an actual dance. I did not waste time doing any of my actions in tempo or even rhythmically. What I did was to unbuckle my belt, unsnap and unzip my pants in a matter of seconds. In another second my pants were off and I was beating them against a tree with the fervor of someone at the edge of panic. As I was beating my pants I was jumping up and down (somewhat like my dad did all those years ago) and crying aiiieee over and over again. Crying aiiee was a strange since I didn’t know what aiiee meant and had never even heard that sound before. At risk of seeming immodest I can say that my dancing may not have been much but I sure could scream aiiee really well.

When I finally settled down enough to think clearly I examined my pants for any stragglers, finding none I put them back on gathering what was left of my pride (though there wasn’t much left). As I did so I distinctly could hear sounds of laughter from more than one direction. I looked back at the Ant colony and thought ANTS THIS MEANS WAR!

Up next FIRE ANTS THIS IS NOT A DRILL