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“Remember, remember always, that all of us, and you and I especially, are
descended from immigrants and revolutionists.”
- Franklin D. Roosevelt
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Common Sense
The Progress
Editorial
June 30,2022
From the Staff
The Fourth of July is for memories
Make sure they are safe ones
By Alex Goble
Staff Writer
agoble@pickensprogress.com
Last week Pickens County saw three dif
ferent brush fires.
The first fire started Sunday June, 19 on
the west side of the county near Firetower
Road. Due to the terrain and situation Geor
gia Forestry was called in to assist. Multiple
Forestry units and personnel, including a hel
icopter for water drops, was required to put a
stop to the fire. That battle lasted several
days. By Friday the fire was more-or-less out
but still a source of concern to homeowners
on Sharp Mountain and the surrounding area.
As Georgia Forestry was working on the
Firetower Road fire, a second brush fire
started Tuesday afternoon in Talking Rock in
side the “J-19” area. Georgia Forestry assis
tance was needed again to control the 2-3
acre fire. The local units were tied up on Fire
tower Road, so units as far away as Union
County had to respond.
Around 4 a.m. that night a third brush fire
sparked near Henderson Mountain Road.
All three fires were extinguished thanks to
the hard work of many, but next time things
could get out of hand.
Firewise officials who work with home-
owners associations in our county have
warned the steep and inaccessible terrain here
with homes clustered at the tops of ridges are
the same condition that have made national
news for fires which could not be contained
until the damage ran into the millions.
I have sitting on my phone right now a
text from a relative that says what many are
thinking: “I hate fires, they can do lots of
damage and it takes years to heal.”
We should think about that for a minute
when we shoot our fireworks this week.
With the dry conditions this year, it’s not
wise to aim your Roman candles at that pine
thicket on the edge of your yard.
Not that we shouldn’t shoot fireworks or
have fun, just that we should be careful when
we make this year’s memories. Know where
you are shooting the bottle rockets and keep
watch over the area for the rest of the evening
and possibly tone down your celebration this
year and save what you’ve already bought for
New Year’s. This might also mean starting
the blasts a little earlier, as late night fire
works and bedtime is a good way to wake up
with sirens on your streets.
And as the song says, “it only takes a
spark....”
We all have memories that revolve around
fireworks, both as Americans and as people.
For me, many of these moments are from
right here in town.
First, 1 remember walking around at the
fair in Lee Newton when 1 was a child and
being stopped by my uncle and told “look,”
as he pointed. The way 1 remember it now,
the sun set the moment color exploded across
the sky. I’m sure I’d seen fireworks before,
but it felt like the first time and it’s the earliest
memory.
Second, I remember sitting down in the
cemetery grass as a high schooler with some
friends to watch the explosions from there.
We ended up at the Jasper City Cemetery be
cause everywhere else was packed to the
brim, but the view was the best we could
have asked for. We sat there, quiet as the
graves, following each pop as much with our
ears as our eyes.
There are other memories too, involving
my grandparents, or my roommate in China.
I can still see him leaning out our 23 rd story
window, shouting in his punchy Illinois ac
cent, shooting red-colored showers straight at
the blank of the new moon.
That kind of out-of-control celebration
was normal in Beijing at the time. I guess
when your ancestors invented fireworks you
get some leeway.
Then someone ended up burning down
half the CCTV cultural center. A 44-story fire
started with New Year’s fireworks will
change your views on things.
So, let’s have a good time, but if you find
yourself leaning out of a window with lit fire
works in your hands, you’ve gone too far.
Please give some thought to where the sparks
and flames of your fireworks are going this
year. It’s been a while since we’ve seen con
ditions this dry, let’s hope for some rain but
prepare to scale back the fireworks if Mother
Nature doesn’t come through.
Let’s make sure this year’s memories are
good ones, not “oh you mean 2022 when our
neighbor’s house caught fire after our Inde
pendence Day celebration?”
Tell us your thoughts with a letter to the editor. E-mail to news@pickensprogress.com
See letter submission guidelines on the Letters to the Editor page or call us 706-253-2457.
Senior Moments
So much stuff
By Mary Migliaro
As we get older, we see
the fruits of our labors and
the stuff we have accumu
lated over the years. I don’t
know about you, but some
days it seems as though my
stuff multiplies at night when
I’m not looking!
Lately, I’ve begun to start
the process of downsizing
and letting go of some stuff
that has very little sentimen
tal value.
Other items are harder to
part with but need to be gone
at some point because we all
know you can’t take it with
you.
I recall many years ago
when I would visit with my
mother, she would talk to me
about who she wanted to
have some of her things. I ex
plained that I would not re
member her requests but
suggested that she start mak
ing a list of her wishes.
I also told her that it might
be a great idea to begin to
give sentimental items to the
family members she wanted
to give them to because she
could know they received the
items and see the joy on their
faces when they were gifted.
She actually started with
me. She had a beautiful ring
that had belonged to her
mother, and I had always ad
mired it. Mom wore it on
special occasions and each
(USPS 431-820)
Published by Pickens County Progress, Inc.
94 North Main Street, Jasper, GA 30143
(706) 253-2457
www.pickensprogressonline.com
DAN POOL
Publisher/Editor
Published each Thursday at Jasper, Pickens County, Georgia.
Entered at the Post Office at Jasper, Georgia 30143
as Mail Matter of Second Class.
POSTMASTER: Send address changes to
PICKENS COUNTY PROGRESS, 94 N. Main St., Jasper, GA 30143.
One Year Subscription: $41.17 for residents of Pickens County
or the cities of Ball Ground, Fairmount, and Ranger;
$52.30 for all other Georgia residents; $62.32 out of state residents.
time I saw the ring, I thought
of her and my grandmother
who purchased the ring on a
trip to Mexico over one hun
dred years ago.
One day while visiting her
she told me to get the ring
from her jewelry case and
told me to take it home with
me. I asked her if she was
sure that was what she
wanted to do and she assured
me that she did. I thanked her
profusely and we hugged for
a long time. I have the ring to
this day and see my mom and
grandmother whenever I look
at it. Its value is not signifi
cant, but the sentimental
value is priceless to me.
Now I have begun giving
things to my two children.
Naturally, they can’t take
everything I have so we have
been very selective in choos
ing those things most impor
tant to them. There is still so
much more stuff, and much is
sentimental and valuable in
nature. We will most likely
sell them to an antique dealer
knowing that when they sell
the items, the people buying
them will appreciate the age
and authenticity of them.
Do you have lots of stuff?
What is going to happen to it
when you are gone? Think
about beginning now to pass
along those special things to
your children and grandchil
dren.
The items will give them
precious memories of you,
and they can thank you with
hugs as well.
[Mary Migliaro is a fre
quent contributor to the
Progress as both a columnist
and with a regular parenting
column. She may be reached
at maiymigliaro@aol.com.]
#lbe ^>cf)ool
Other Voices
My father loved me
My dad at work. Jim Brescia, Sr. owned an auto sendee
station in Jersey City.
By Jim Brescia
My father wasn’t a
demonstrative man. We
watched baseball together on
TV.
My father occasionally
played catch with me. He
took me to work with him.
He would stop the milk de
livery truck that passed the
auto service station he owned
and bought me a bottle of
chocolate milk. I shamefully
admit that I took all of that
for granted. If you had asked
me if my father loved me, I
would have said; “I guess
so.”
But something happened
to my perception of his love
for me shortly after I
achieved a very important
right-of-passage. I went
down to get my driver’s li
cense on the first day I was
eligible.
A driver’s license was
proof that I was a man. (I am
glad I didn’t know the truth at
that time in my life.) The year
was 1962 and my father,
James Brescia, Sr., had a
1952 four-door Plymouth. I
had saved all of the money I
earned working at my fa
ther’s auto service station and
was looking for a car I could
afford.
We would always take
road trips in the summer and
this weekend, we were going
to my Aunt .Julia’s house in.
I lived in Jersey City and I
considered Keansburg to be
“the country.” This was the
perfect time for me to ask my
father if I could drive the
family car.
Now, understand that our
entire family, my mother, fa
ther, brother and sister were
all in the car.
My dad hesitated just mo
mentarily and said it was OK
for me to drive. So, off I
went. It was an easy route.
On to the New Jersey Turn
pike and then some local
roads.
If I was smart, if I was
mature, (I was neither) I
would have driven as conser
vatively as I could. But I was
a newly licensed King of The
Road. It went fine on the
Turnpike with its multi-lanes.
But the local roads were two
lanes. There was a car ahead
of us that I thought was going
too slow. Keep in mind that
a ’52 Plymouth was never
designed for NASCAR
events. I always felt that I
could depress the gas pedal,
go into the candy store for a
Coke and return to the car in
time for the acceleration.
But, overcome with the
hubris of a newly licensed
driver, I decided to pass the
car in front of us. So I steered
the car over the dotted line
into the other lane. In the dis
tance, I saw an oncoming ve
hicle. But, not to worry, I
stomped on the gas pedal.
Suddenly, I was craving a
Coke. The car I was trying to
pass did what, unfortunately,
most drivers do when some
one tries to show them up by
passing them, he sped up his
car. So, the car I am trying to
pass speeds up and the on
coming car is getting closer
by the second.
I started wondering how I
should steer the car so that
the fewest number of my
family members gets killed.
Out of the comer of my eye,
I can see my usually stoic fa
ther squirming in his seat and
doing a phantom brake pedal
stomp.
In retrospect, I could have
just backed off of the gas and
tucked in behind the car I was
trying to pass, but I refer you
back to my earlier comment
about my level of maturity
and smartness.
I think the car I was pass
ing decided he did not want
to be forced to fill out all of
the witness forms after the
collision so he mercifully
backed off of his gas pedal
and let me tuck back into the
right-hand lane.
I know it was in my imag
ination, but I could swear that
I heard the oncoming car
scrape paint off of the front
bumper of our car.
It took a lot for my father
to get mad. But when he did,
it was nuclear. I had almost
killed our entire family.
I was sinking lower and
lower in my seat waiting for
the shockwave to come. To
my surprise, in a very calm
voice, my father said; “You
always have to be sure you
have enough room before
you try to pass someone.”
I held my breath wonder
ing if that was just the open
ing salvo to a larger barrage.
But, no, we had a quiet rest of
the trip.
When we arrived at my
Aunt Julia’s house, alive and
well, it hit me that for my F a-
ther to realize how badly I
felt and resist reminding me
what a *&*#+!! I was, he
must really love me. Thanks
Dad. I love you too.
James Brescia Sr. died on
December 6th, 1970. He was
65 years old.
[Jim Brescia is a regular
contributor to the Progress.
He is involved in several
local veteran groups.]
WEATHER
By William Dilbeck
HI LOW RAIN
June
21
91
62
.00
June
22
93
64
.00
June
23
92
73
.00
June
24
86
71
.00
June
25
85
71
.00
June
26
84
68
.00
June
27
81\
64
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