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Jane Winston
The Left Rail
JWlNSl939@aol.com
Buon giorno y'all!
It is good to be back in the
US of A where bathrooms are
easily identified, readily avail
able, and one does not have
to “squat to go” nor worry
about whether there is toilet
paper!
I do miss, however, the
great Chianti Classico wine,
my 22 traveling buddies and
new friends all affiliated with
either Parkland Community
College or the University of
Illinois, the beautiful scenery,
handsome Italian men (no, I
didn’t find my Italian Stallion,
but I sure saw him every
where), fashionably dressed
women (no obesity!) and the
great northern Italian food.
Italy is geographically divid
ed into 20 regionl (regions),
and our tour included three
of them: Tuscany, Umbria
and Lombardy. We met up
at Parkland community
College and were bussed
from Champaign-Urbana, IL
to O’Hare airport which took
about 2.5 hours.
We then boarded a 767 and
flew 9.5 hours to Northern
Italy and Milan which is locat
ed in the Lombardy region.
We were then bussed to the
Tuscany region - known for
its wonderful Chianti wine
- to a wonderful medieval
walled city called Sienna. We
did not stay in Sienna but
rather in the countryside at
Villa Veronica which sat high
atop a hill overlooking vine
yards.
Our in-country guide Erika
stayed with us, which added
so much to our four-night
stay, as she and Villa-keeper
chattered away in- Italian
entertaining and teaching us
all. The grapes used in the
Chianti Classico we sipped
on the verandah, which over
looked a swimming pool,
came from the vineyard in
front of the villa. Part of the
fun was the diversity of those
staying at the Villa. I haven’t
a clue where all the others
hailed from, but I can assure
you there were only nine of
us fluent in English.
About Erika: She is from a
small town outside Milan close
to Turin. She is an electri
cal engineer with a bachelor’s
degree from the University
of Torino and two masters,
one from the University of
Illinois/Chicago. She worked
for Motorola in Italy and then
transferred to the U.S. where
she is a software designer
for Motorola in Champaign-
Urbana. Additionally, she
teaches night classes in
Italian at Parkland CC allow
ing her to travel and stay
with us. What a deal for all
of us non-Italian speakers or
understanders!
Our first road trip out
of Villa Veronica was into
Sienna which is character
ized by Gothic palaces, aris
tocratic mansions, narrow
streets, medieval gates, walls
and towers. However, Sienna
seems most well known for
its old, spectacular event, the
Palio delle Contrade, which
is part historical pageant and
part horse race. Each bare
back-riding jockey represents
a Contrada (one of 17 wards
into which the city is divided).
The race, which requires tre
mendous skill, takes place in
the historic heart of the city
on sand that is brought in for
the running of the race.
See WINSTON, page 6C
SATURDAY,
JUNE 17, 2006
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Simple vegetables bring back strong memories
It’s funny how a simple
vegetable can bring back
memories.
Some friends gave us a
sack of bounty from their
garden, and included in it
was a cucumber. I decided
to peel it and slice it and
put it in a bowl of vinegar,
just like my daddy used to
like.
Of course, I’m the only
one at my house who will
even touch the bowl of
cucumber slices, much less
bring one to my mouth and
actually eat it. The older
I get, the more I realize
how the things our par
ents taught us or showed us
stick with us, sometimes to
the chagrin of our spouses.
My daddy liked food and
he liked to eat just about
any vegetable raw. I remem
ber seeing him peel a white
potato or a sweet potato
and eating it just like that,
or with a little salt on it.
Lifestyle
Sherri Martin
The Front Porch
Evans Newspapers
Guess who finds herself
doing the same thing in her
own kitchen?
Daddy also ate peas raw,
and I can’t walk through
our pea patch without
shelling some and having a
snack. I once had a dog that
liked them too, and I had
to stay ahead of her in the
row or she would eat up all
of my harvest.
I didn’t always agree with
Daddy on all of his food
choices. He liked burnt pop
A sister's memory lives
cally everybody in Perry, stayed in her
hometown, and just recently took on a
new venture as on-site manager of the
brand new Bobwhite Self-Storage Center
on U.S. 341.
Lucretia’s name got shortened to “Tish,”
and she went on to become an artist. Her
artistic talent was recognized from her
teens, and flourished because of her love
of the outdoors. She was hunter, and a
member of Ducks Unlimited, the Wild
Turkey Association, the NRA and both
the National Skeet Shooting Association.
She married Ray Hall of Oglethorpe and
along with hunting, steadily polishing her
artistic skills, and singing in the choir at
the Methodist Church there, often as a
solist, she worked as a teller at the First
South Bank of Montezuma, where her
wildlife paintings, full of color and spirit,
hung on the walls.
This story should go on happily, but it
doesn’t.
At around
noon, on August
6, 1990, a man
named Walter
Lee Brown
walked into
First South
Bank with rob
bery on his
mind, and the
first thing he did
before demand
ing money was
shoot a smil
ing teller in
the chest with
no warning.
Not a word.
Just one shot
at close range.
Two hours later,
despite heroic efforts in the emergency
room, Lucretia “Tish” Griggs Hall was
dead.
Her sister, Stan, lives with loss every
day, although she can smile now when she
talks about her sister, and enjoys showing
off pictures of their high school days when
they looked so much alike they were hard
to tell apart.
A few months ago, Stan took on the job
of resident manager of the newly-opened
0
corn and really, really well
done steak. He also liked
thick, dry hoe cakes that he
took great pride in cooking.
He always offered to share;
we usually took as small
a piece as possible so we
wouldn’t hurt his feelings
but so we also wouldn’t
have to eat much of it.
Not all of my memories of
my daddy are food related.
To this day, I can’t watch
a weather forecast without
the overwhelming urge to
on through art
By
CHARLOTTE
PERKINS
HHJ Lifestyle
Editor
When Fred
and Rheunette
Griggs of Perry
named their
daughters in
the 19405, they
picked names
that people
wouldn’t be
likely to forget.
One of their bub
bly, outgoing
daughters was
named Stanford,
and the younger
one was named
Lucretia.
Over the years,
in the small
town of Perry,
Stanford became
“Stan,” now Stan
Durrance.
Stan, who is
known to practi-
v
be just as quiet as possible.
Daddy’s work in the fields
or on the construction site
relied on the weather, so he
made sure not to miss the
forecast. And my mother,
sister and I made sure to
keep our mouths shut dur
ing it.
I remember how Daddy
always had a tooth
pick handy, how he could
remember phone numbers
with ease, and how one of
his fingernails rolled over
where he once lost the tip of
his finger. Not very earth
shattering memories, or
even very important memo
ries in the grand scheme of
things.
But they’re important to
me.
All of this remember
ing made me wonder what
memories my sons are mak
ing with their daddy. At 5
- but so near 6 he’s already
planning his birthday party
Bobwhite self-storage facility on the Fort
Valley Road.
The business, as started by three men
who got to know each other through their
love of hunting: Bob Snellgrove, Johnny
White and Joe Shuttles worth.
One of the first tasks Stan had was to
come up a business card.
She checked the computer files for pic
tures of a Bobwhite quail.
“I pulled one up, and my heart stopped,”
Stan says, “I knew that I didn’t need to
look any further.”
Those little quail, a favorite of hunt
ers everywhere in the south, were also a
favorite subject of her artist sister.
One of Tish Hall’s renderings of a bob
white is now the logo for the self-storage
company and on the business card. A
painting by Tish hangs in the lobby of the
new business. A silk bobwhite clings to a
magnolia in the decoration on Tish’s new
front door.
Stanford remembers that at her sister’s
funeral, the preacher said “Her living has
stopped, but her life will go on forever.”
One way Tish Hall’s life is going on is
through her wildlife paintings which are
in private and public collections across
middle Georgia. Another is through the
Tish Hall Foundation, which Stan estab
lished in 1991, in order to give merit
scholarship awards to young artists at the
Georgia National Fair.
Also, Stan has a dream of a Tish Hall
Memorial Park on 33 acres along Big
Indian Creek which has belonged to her
family since the 1920’5. Since Tish’s birth
day was May 31st, she hopes someday to
host a Tish Hall Memorial Day Wildlife
Arts & Crafts Festival on the creek prop
erty.
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‘’-IMP- . •
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ABOVE: Stan Griggs
Durrance now.
LEFT: Tish Griggs as
a teenager.
BELOW: Stan Griggs
as a teenager.
* Tim*
■vAi r* «#•*• m
■ I
- our older son is making
plenty of memories. Our
younger son at 16 months
only remembers that he
loves his daddy, particularly
because Daddy is the one
who takes him outside to
pet the dogs.
Their memories prob
ably will not involve food,
except to remember all
of the things their picky
daddy declares “yucky.” I
imagine, though, that their
memories will involve fish
ing, riding bikes, turning •
on sprinklers, and driving
the tractor. And jumping
in the truck to ride down
the road to see the travel
ing gun irrigation system
come on, just to see how far
across the road the water
hits.
Simple memories, yes.
•But they will be impor
tant to them one day, just
as they are important to
me now.
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