Georgia on My Mind..

This morning, the GPS shows me in East Oxford, AL. I went to the local Waffle House, which always seems to be within a 100' of every motel in the south, and ordered some generic breakfast food.

And then came the question I'd been waiting for all my life.

"Would you like grits with that?"

Now, I do actually know what grits are. They're corn soaked in lye (hominy) and then cooked into a gruel. However, knowing THAT is not quite the same as knowing grits.

"I've heard of grits, but I've never had them. How do you eat them?"
"Well, most people like to put honey on them."
Another waitress walked over and said "That's not true! You're supposed to use butter and salt on them!"
"No, that's what you put on cream of wheat."
"I haven't had cream of wheat since I was kid. I prefer grits, and the only way to eat them is with salt and butter. And pepper too. Lots of pepper."

I sat back in an amused fashion as the two negotiated the presentation of this, my christening into grit culture. Finally, they decided to give me the grits (for free, I might add), with everything I could possibly put on them.

I grew up with cream of wheat, and bemoan the loss of the artificially flavored Instant Banana Spice variety. That was prepared simply by adding water and milk. Grits, are a far more elaborate affair.

In front of me, I had a bowl with a lumpy tapicoa-esque subtance that seemed to be oozing oil or some other yellow liquid. Next to that was honey, strawberry jam, butter, salt and pepper. There was some tobasco there, but I don't think that was for the grits.

After careful consideration, I chose honey, and ate nearly the whole bowl. When I was finished, the first waitress came over.

"You chose the honey! How was that?"
"They were quite good, actually."
"You heat that Maybelle? He liked the grits with honey!"

I could see down the counter that the younger Maybelle was somewhat upset at this, and I wondered if I shouldn't order another bowl and eat them her way just to smooth things out.

Instead I tipped generously, and put "Walk The Line" on the jukebox as I headed back to the motel room.

As we approached Atlanta yesterday, Alison had the idea to get a bunch of flowers, sing the Beatles' "All You Need is Love" and hand them out to random strangers. She sent off a few texts and e-mails, and voila! Ten skeptics appeared at Underground Atlanta to support the event. Underground Atlanta was not the right place for this, and the weather was pouring rain, so we went off to The Thinking Man, a skeptical bar in Decatur. And the plan was carried out, and worked! All the bar patrons received us gratefully, all stopped to thank us on the way out, and I believe we seriously enhanced their evening. Alison has a short video of this even on her Facebook page. Thanks to everyone who came out on short notice!

It seems we'll try to do a similar thing in every state for the rest of the journey, however we're under time pressure now, and I'm not sure how that's going to work out. We shall see.