Miss Jane

I’m pretty late for a Thanksgiving post. But I spent the four days around “turkey day” living large—golfing, hunting, watching college football, and overeating—way too busy to write anything. But in between those traditional holiday pastimes, I found time to spend with family, my parents, an aunt and uncle, and cousins. One of my family’s favorite diversions at gatherings is walking down memory lane, recollecting about the lives of parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. I’m not sure anyone actually walked uphill through the snow both to and from school, but my ancestors certainly endured poverty and hardship. Understanding the past definitely puts more of my life in perspective and helps me understand some real reasons to give thanks.

A couple of weeks ago, I had the privilege of interviewing a 93-year-old lady named Miss Jane for a feature story. She was born in 1917. A child of the Depression, she knew hardship—true cold, darkness, and life without electricity. Unlike most of the people of her generation, especially the women, she was fortunate to be able to attend college thanks to FDR and the New Deal. She found a job with the Red Cross and had a 30-year career with Central State Hospital. But unlike so many whose dreams involved escaping home, Miss Jane’s dreams were to get back there. She moved back to the family home, began to purchase back land lost in the Depression, and established a cattle farm that she has managed alone for nearly sixty years. “All I ever dreamed of was getting back home.”
Unlike my family and Miss Jane, I’ve never faced such hardships. I have never lived in a home without air-conditioning. I never attended a school without air-conditioning either. I’ve certainly never gone to bed cold, wanted for clothing, or faced missing a meal. My parents were resolute that I was going to college, that I would have opportunities they were not afforded. There is indeed reason for thanksgiving each and every year.

But I am quite envious of one of Miss Jane’s possessions. One dream, the chance to return to her home and build a farm, compelled and motivated her through her early life and career. I’m envious of that clarity, that sense of purpose and satisfaction with its achievement, which defined her life. I really don’t know what dreams I hold most dear—and if any are achievable goals or merely fascinations that occupy the imagination without motivating action or resolve. Could it be photography, a corporate career, or something else entirely? Maybe it’s a function of a mild case of midlife crisis. Am I looking to be Judge Wapner instead of Doug Lewellen? Is that enough to find happiness? Or is it art for arts’ sake that I seek? I yearn for that clarity and the prospect of a dream where achievement can bring such satisfaction.

Without a doubt, Miss Jane has many reasons to give thanks. She never married and lives alone on her farm amid 220 acres and 67 cows. And she never got air-conditioning. But she’s living her dream.

Providence

I believe in providence. Even in spite of my oft bad attitude and sometimes myopic vision, I can’t help but realize when God has placed something in my path, just when I need to see it. So this past Wednesday, when work pressed in from all sides, and I didn’t have time for travel to a conference, God had something I needed to see.

I had been asked to speak at Winshape Retreat, on the campus of Berry College. I was pretty skeptical. No televisions, no phones, and no Internet. Thanks to a rehearsal, I didn’t arrive there until after midnight. But morning broke with a brilliant sunrise, a fitting beginning to two great days.

Winshape Retreat, an oasis and the product of one man’s vision, is funded by Chick-fil-a. Fittingly, for seventy years, it was a large dairy operated by Martha Berry. In 2003, it was donated to Truett Cathy’s Winshape Foundation. While preserving the serenity and beauty of the site, barns were turning into guest rooms, restaurants, and meeting facilities.

On Friday, I saw an impressive presentation by a Chick-fil-a marketing executive. Instead of touting the iconic cows, he outlined a business model truly unique in our world. Chick-fil-a has set itself apart in the fast-food market—over $3 billion in annual sales, closed on Sunday, and they put the word “God” in their mission statement. And ten percent of Chick-fil-a earnings go to fund Winshape.

It was rejuvenating to spend two days at this amazing site—to walk these serene grounds and experience service as a function of religion, not business. On Friday, I got up before sunrise to spend some quiet time on the grounds with my Nikon. I should have been prepping for my presentation. Instead I captured a few images to preserve the lessons put in my path at this wonderful place.

Playing the Trail

Four of us trekked to Opelika, Alabama to play golf for the last two days. We played the Auburn University Club on Sunday and the Lake Course at The Grand National, part of the Robert Trent Jones Golf Trail., on Monday. The Auburn Club was great, a wonderful layout with firm, slick greens. But the highlight of the trip was Grand National. Unfortunately, my golf game really wasn’t up to the test, especially with cold weather, wind, and tough rough. In fact, I played just downright awfully—just don’t ask me about the rock. But it was a great first glimpse at the Robert Trent Jones Golf Trail.

In the early 1980s, Dr. David Bronner, the CEO of the Retirement System of Alabama, had a vision to diversify the state’s pension fund and help out the economy. After hiring Robert Trent Jones, Sr., a renowned course architect with over 500 courses to his credit, the state set out on an ambitious project to build 378 holes at eight sites at one time.

The $145 million investment seems to have paid off. Alabama claims the trail has had more than a billion dollar impact. Over 200,000 non-resident golfers play the course every year, spending more than $185 per day. And there are now 26 courses.

By contrast, Georgia’s own network of eight state park courses is foundering. There are gems, Arrowhead Pointe in particular. But most of the courses are losing money and Georgia’s leadership is considering privatizing all of them. While the golf, at least on my part, wasn’t exactly stellar, the trip was great fun, a badly needed escape from reality. And it was a great lesson in what can happen when someone with vision and leadership can ask “what if.” I’m jealous that a neighboring state has outshined my home yet again. Next thing you know, we’ll be losing college football games to Alabama schools, too. Well, never mind.