Mexican Migrants In My Backyard: Monarch Butterfly Migration

Art of a Monarch butterfly Garden, Watercolor by Ann Litrel

Now that my boys are grown and gone, I sometimes feel like the only kid left outside in our neighborhood. When I see a turtle, I run out to take a picture and give it a name. (So far I’ve named eight.) When my husband finds a cool bug like a writing spider or praying mantis, he knows to send me a picture because it makes me happy.

And in September every year, I go out in my garden to look for monarch caterpillars in my milkweed.

Passing neighbors no doubt wonder what I’m doing – a middle aged lady with sketchbook and camera, crouching down to stare at something no one else can see. That’s okay. As the world becomes more developed, I’m interested in what small animals, bugs and critters can survive in my yard – a tiny oasis of wild plants and flowers in the middle of a big subdivision.

Who Feeds Them?

When I was a kid, every first grade classroom had a glass fish tank for hatching monarch butterflies. Every kid got to see the caterpillar form a chrysalis and hatch two weeks later into a grown butterfly.

Nowadays, the monarch butterfly’s annual flight to and from Mexico appears in innumerable documentaries. It’s named one of the world’s “ten great animal migrations.” What you might not know is that the entire migration takes four generations to complete. The female butterfly that flies north from Mexico in spring to mate, lay her eggs, and die, is the great grandmother of the butterfly that makes its way back south in the fall to hibernate. He or she will roost sleeping with millions of its fellow monarchs, and then fly north in the spring to mate and start the cycle all over again.

Fifty years ago, milkweed was common along roads and in fields. It’s the only plant that monarch caterpillars will eat. In my small hometown in the Midwest, we could always find a stand of milkweed – with caterpillars – to bring to class for the annual hatching.

This was not true for my sons. In the manicured subdivision where we live now, anything that vaguely resembles a natural field is sprayed or mowed down to create the appearance of conforming green. Outside subdivisions in rural areas, most farms use herbicides, killing the strips of wildflowers between fields that used to feed and host butterflies in their migrations.

Home Owners Form a Grassroots Rescue Operation

Across the country, many people have joined together to fill the gap, swelling into a grassroots movement to plant Monarch waystations in their own gardens. These small plots and patio pots include nectar flowers for butterflies, and host plants for caterpillars to eat. In an amazing feat of species survival, even a tiny spot of asters can call a monarch down from the sky to feed, and lay their eggs if they are so fortunate to find a milkweed.

As I write this article, I take a break every few hours to watch a baby monarch caterpillar eat milkweed I’ve placed in a jar. By the time this magazine appears, the caterpillar will have made its chrysalis and hatched. And hopefully, I will see it spread its wings and take off on its flight for a long winter’s sleep in Mexico.

Plant a Monarch Waystation This Fall for Next Spring

Nectar Flowers for Adult Butterflies

  • magenta Echinacea
  • purple Liatris
  • gold Black-Eyed Susan
  • pink Joe-Pye Weed
  • yellow Sneezeweed

Host Plants for Monarch Caterpillars

  • Common milkweed
  • Butterfly weed

Online sources for native plants:

www.easywildflowers.com
www.nichegardens.com

 

Monarch caterpillar feeding on a milkweed leaf in this Georgia suburbs garden.

Just hatched: a baby monarch caterpillar feeds on a milkweed leaf in my Atlanta suburban garden.

Carpe Diem

Art Showing Joe-Pye Weed and Summer Butterflies

Swallowtails and Joe Pye Weed, A Healing Garden

For August, I want to share something from my journal last year.

August 8, 2015

I am healing this week.

The breast surgeon cut a gash in my right breast to remove a lump of flesh. Stage Zero, carcinoma in situ.

I am in no pain, so it’s hard to rest. I go outside every few hours. The Joe-Pye weed billows down the hill in my backyard, six feet tall. It began blooming a few weeks ago and hardly drew any visitors, but now, in its third week, it has begun to take on the quality of an independent colony.

Iridescent blue wasps, honeybees, plodding black carpenter bees, odd flying insects of spotted colors I have never seen. Dozens and dozens of small butterflies.

And this week, the swallowtails and fritillaries have begun to alight.

When down there, I stand in reverie, letting this swath of nature wash over me with the buzzing and fluttering and hum of life.

The energy feels like a healing balm. I drink in the medicine, letting the sun and the sounds of a meadow filter into my subconscious, into my pores like an unseen serum.

It’s a cloud, a mist of energy or life. Surrounded as it is by quiet and unmoving green, it almost feels like a starship or perhaps a space colony, humming with energy from another dimension – as though it could separate from the earth below and take off into the sky at any moment.

It vibrates with a higher energy than the spaces around it.

Over the three weeks I’ve watched it – it must act as a kind of homing beacon – more and more butterflies find it. Fritillaries flitter around each other, bees hover over the blossoms. Black swallowtails fly in to join a half dozen yellow.

This afternoon I found a katydid on the milkweed. I never get to see bugs like this. A little lizard dashed off into the grasses.

My mom Elizabeth Wallace and me

My mom, Elizabeth Wallace, and me

My mom stands out with me.

She is one of the people whom I know can stand in a patch of grass and listen to the insects buzzing, and think it’s just as rich and wonderful as I do. This time together feels precious. Mom is getting older. So am I. Who knows how long we have to enjoy unhurried conversation, moments as insignificant as standing in a small garden of grass and billowing wildflowers and enjoying the hum of insects, the flitter of scores of butterflies?

But I don’t enter these meditations until later, when I reflect upon the moment.

I’m just there, basking in it.


 Resources

 A “Carpe Diem” Butterfly Garden

Try these natives from your local nursery:
Joe-Pye Weed      Blue asters      Goldenrod     Coneflower (Echinacea)

Online, you can order butterfly plant or seed collections from “A Native Gardener’s Companion,” www.PrairieMoon.com

 

Waking Up With Nightmares

Pat Gold portrait final

A History in Delta’s Customer Service Drives the Founder of Riverfest In Organizing Two Art Festivals in Cherokee

Pat Gold had 15 years in customer service with Delta before she chaired Cherokee County’s first Riverfest, held in 1985. Pat is pictured in front of the Cherokee Arts Center, where from 2011-2012, she was also Chair of Canton Festival of the Arts, held annually the third weekend in May. In the past decade, she has served in numerous community endeavors, including the Tourism and Main Street programs in Canton, as well as the Canton Planning Commission.

This story is part of a series featuring local leaders, volunteers and visionaries, some behind the scenes, who have had an impact on the community. For more on Gold’s story and the accompanying portrait, visit www.annlitrel.com

___________________

If I have any creativity, this is it. You know, I don’t create art – but I can organize it.

Pat Gold offers this snippet about her part in Cherokee County’s first Riverfest, now approaching its 30th anniversary. The arts and crafts festival was conceived by her as a fundraiser for the County’s Junior Service League, a group whose mission is to help needy children and their families with direct aid and scholarships. Riverfest takes place every September in Canton’s Boling Park on the Etowah River, drawing attendees from across metro Atlanta and north Georgia.

Exuding brisk cheer and an air of capability, Pat escorts me into an empty classroom at the Cherokee Arts Center for our interview, offering more than once to help carry my bags, microphone and lights. She explains that her “current baby” is the Canton Festival of the Arts, a juried spring artist fair at the Arts Center, fast approaching the weekend of May 17 and 18.

Tell me about your role in Riverfest.

“Riverfest was started in the early 80’s,” she says. “Back then, craft fairs were fairly new but gaining in popularity. One horrible rainy morning, I got the idea of launching a crafts fair in the County as the Service League’s fundraiser. Judy Bishop and I took the idea to the board, and they gave us the green light.”

What were some of the challenges?

“It was a huge undertaking. We worked for two years to develop the first Riverfest.” She names the divisions of labor: the artist’s market, the children’s area, concessions, entertainment, advertising and PR. Each was organized by one of the core committee members, whom Pat lists as herself, Judy Bishop, Rebecca Johnston, Debra Goodwin, Lila Stevens, and Ann Rupel.

“Recruiting artists was a critical element,” she continues. “If you’re starting from scratch, you have to convince them that you are going to be successful.” She names local potter Ron Cooper as being “instrumental” in recruiting artists and getting the word out in the arts community.

Did you have any organizing experience before this?

“I had been working at Delta almost 15 years as an in-flight service coordinator. I grew up with Delta, and they taught me everything I know about customer service. Making a successful arts festival is all about customer service – helping the artists unpack, getting their things to their space, babysitting their booth when they want to take a break…everything to make it a good experience so they’ll come back next year. Without them, we don’t have a festival.”

How did Riverfest measure up to your vision?

“It was even better than we had hoped. Boling Park was a perfect setting. The Riverfest name was my husband’s suggestion – and it stuck.” She smiles. “The first year, we had 107 artists, 10,000 people came through the gates, and we earned a profit of almost $10,000. Of course, it’s grown since then.” [In 2013, the 28th annual Riverfest included 151 exhibitors, and earned over $70,000.]

Pat adds a personal remembrance. “As the opening day got close,” this organizer admits,” I was waking up with nightmares, imagining a festival that no one came to. I really didn’t relax until that first morning.” She shakes her head.

“When the first wave of people came down that hill, it was like a dream come true.”

A Global Ministry With Community Roots

A Burning Vision

A Burning Vision: Dr. Johnny Hunt – oil on canvas, 14” x 11”

(For a custom portrait contact me, or visit my Etsy shop online for details.)

 

Local Pastor Focuses on Small Things and Grows a Ministry That Spans Continents

Dr. Johnny Hunt is senior pastor of First Baptist Church Woodstock, serving a congregation of 17,000. Former President of the Southern Baptist Convention and author of numerous books and lecture series, Dr. Hunt is a leader in national and worldwide ministry efforts.

This story is part of a series featuring local leaders, volunteers and visionaries who have had an impact on the community. For more on the Dr. Hunt’s story and the accompanying portrait, visit www.annlitrel.com  

___________________

I never did anything big –

it was the little things.

Dr. Johnny Hunt sits at his desk signing stacks of his books – gifts to church youth, he explains. His hair is silver, but his eyes glow with the energy of a young man. He listens graciously as I explain the purpose of the interview – I am interested in visionary leaders and the stories behind their impact on community.

“I’ve led the Southern Baptist Convention, and I’ve been honored with some big positions,” he explains. “But I didn’t set out to have a big church. I never did anything big. It was the little things.

“I get a hospital list every morning, so those folks are uppermost in my mind when I walk through the halls on Sunday. Maybe I know your mom is in the hospital and I pass you in the hall on my way to give the sermon. I’ll stop and ask how your mother is, and we’ll pray together right there on the spot. I’m preaching to 5,000 people that morning, but praying with you might be the most important thing I do all day.

“I like to say, ‘I may do more ministry on the way to the pulpit that I do in the pulpit.’”

He gives an example of what he calls “small touches,” – for example, attending a dinner for over a hundred widows, when he made it his mission to make a personal contact with each of them. He explains that as he made the rounds of each table, laying hands and saying hello to them, that each woman had a story to tell. And so often a woman would say, “When my husband died, my social life fell apart.”

Dr. Huntsays that funerals are a priority – often the time of people’s greatest need. “I will move heaven and earth to be at a funeral. So often a congreagation member has never asked me for anything personally. I want to be there when they most need me.”

How do you explain your influence?

“You can’t lead people unless they know you’re serving them. You’re mobilizing the people to reach their potential. I’m a commander of a large army, and I need to lead them to conquer. But the conquering is, Let’s feed this community. Let’s clothe this community.

“The past year I’ve traveled around the country to mentor other pastors. I’ve met with Christian leaders in Cuba, in Istanbul… In Iraq, it’s estimated there are over a million Christians practicing underground. But I can travel like this only because of the strength of our platform here.

“I will preach here 45 out of 52 Sundays a year – I don’t fly out until after I preach on Sunday.”

How do you decide where to put your efforts?

“It’s not hard – you just listen. People will tell you what they need.

“For example, I’m very burdened and concerned with foster care. So I made it my business to get to know the folks at the DFACS office [Department of Family and Children’s Services] in Canton and find out what they need. We sent in bookkeepers and CPAs, got them a whole new bookkeeping and filing system.

“The meeting rooms for foster parents were so depressing, they’d discourage anyone from fostering a child. So we knocked out some walls, opened them up with light and windows – just made it a nice place to be.

“The waiting rooms were very noisy – families who come often have a lot of kids. DFACS said, ‘we need a playground for these kids’ – and it’s MAGNOMINOUS what we built them.” Pastor Johnny grins over his coined word.

What drives you?

“I have these little life statements that I assimilated over 30 years ago, and they really haven’t changed.

“I want to reach my own God-given potential. Charles Spurgeon, a preacher in the 1850s, said, ‘The average human has misjudged their capacity for God.’”

As I leave Pastor Johnny’s office, I feel inspired. I can’t help but notice I’ve joined the many who have received a personal gift from this man – a vision of service.

Chasing Trail

Suburban Pioneers – oil on canvas, 18” x 14”

(For a custom portrait contact me, or visit my Etsy shop online for details.)

 

Woodstock Couple Help Give Birth to a Community Bike and Pedestrian Trail

Brian and Jennifer Stockton are husband-and-wife advocates for the Greenprints Trail, a 60 mile network of bike and walking trails planned for the city of Woodstock and south Cherokee County. The Greenprints Plan was initiated by Mayor Henriques and the Council, adopted in 2008, and awarded $5 million dollars by the County in 2010 to construct the first 4-5 trail segments. Brian Stockton served as Project Leader for the Steering Committee that developed the plan; Jennifer is volunteer Executive Director of the nonprofit organization, Greenprints Alliance, founded to raise public awareness and funding for the trail.

This story is part of a series featuring local leaders, volunteers and visionaries, some behind the scenes, who have had an impact on the community. For more on the Stocktons’ story and the accompanying portrait, visit www.annlitrel.com

___________________

Brian Stockton doesn’t like media attention. It takes several e-mails and a call to his wife Jennifer before he agrees to this interview, with the understanding that it’s to raise awareness for the Greenprints Trail. The three of us meet in downtown Woodstock on the new outdoor stage of the Elm Street Green. Brian wears a shirt that says “Chasing Trail.” His dry manner is flavored with an undercurrent of humor, and forms a counterpoint to Jennifer’s more obvious warmth.

Bordering the Event Green is the new “Town to Creek” trail segment. The official ribbon cutting is in three days, May 3, kicking off the fifth annual Trailfest, an all-day concert and fundraiser for Greenprints. As we speak, a steady stream of people walking by makes it apparent that the new trail has already been discovered.

How did the idea for the Greenprints Trail come about?

Brian explains that the Council and Mayor [Henriques] convened a committee to work on a Master Plan for green space in 2007. “The Steering Committee included staff and some outside consultants, including someone from Atlanta’s PATH Foundation. We met for about nine months. I think it was only the first or second meeting when the committee figured out we didn’t need more ball parks. We needed ‘connectivity’ – how do you get from one place to another without hopping in your car? There was a need for open, unstructured green spaces that could be used for several different purposes.”

Brian states that the Greenprints trail runs mostly through the City or around the city limits, but segments are located at probable connections with other trail networks, like Cobb County or Acworth.

How did you end up taking the lead?

“I was City Planner at the time. The whole process of designing a trail for public use intrigued me. So I asked Richard [then Community Development Director Richard McLeod] if I could be the Project Manager, and he said ‘yes.’”

How did you discover City planning as a career?

“When I was a kid, I really liked building and mapping. ‘Lincoln Logs’ were a big favorite. My mom used to draw a city map for me, and I would spend hours planning and drawing out shopping centers, and roads and parks. I had a hard time finding the right major in college because I didn’t know the name for what I was doing. My undergrad degree was in finance. I went into human resources and hated it. In speaking with architects, they suggested I try public planning. I finally got a Master’s degree in City and Regional Planning, concentrated in urban and public space design.”

I turn to Jennifer. So how did you get involved?

“Brian went back to school in 2007. Listening to him talk about city planning had me thinking about things you don’t normally, like streets and tree placement.”  She laughs and points to the three large trees towering over us. “These trees are a good example. The Trail was originally supposed to follow Dupree Road. Elm Street would have turned into a regular grid street, and these trees would have had to come down. So the Trail was moved here to save the trees.

“We bought our house in 2009 – it’s right by the Trail. That’s when it became personal. The whole plan is about the community, and I wanted to help make it happen. Greenprints needed an executive director, so I volunteered.”

As the interview ends, I begin to think about posing Brian and Jenn for their double portrait. We move next to the Trail, where the sun forms a kind of halo through the green kaleidoscope of leaves. The trees tower behind them. It’s the right backdrop for this portrait, which in my mind, is about more than just this husband-wife team. It’s about an effort that embraces a whole community – people and green living spaces.

Footloose Artists and Trappist Monks: Kindred Spirits?

monk at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit

“Beside the Still Waters” – painting, 9″ x 12″

Footloose Artists and Trappist Monks: Kindred Spirits

My friend and fellow artist Marsha Savage called me on Monday night. She was headed for an outdoor “paint out” for artists, invitation only, at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit this week. They’d had a last minute cancellation. Was I interested?

I’m stuck.

Two thoughts immediately popped into my head and began doing battle. Yes: I have been wanting to visit this Catholic Monastery for years. It is well known for its bonsai collection and as a retreat on 2300 acres of bucolic land just east of Atlanta. I would love to see the monastery – of course.

No: I’m scared. I’m not a regular outdoors (plein air) painter. Plein air is French for “open air.” But painters who fit the term are no French salon sissies – they are the cowboys of the artist world. A rugged bunch, they paint and finish their work, usually in a few hours, entirely in the elements of the Great Outdoors. I, on the other hand, love to take my time inside the air conditioned comfort of my studio, massaging the edges of painted shapes until they melt into perfectly distilled space. I’d dabbled in plein air painting. But now I felt a nagging undercurrent of insecurity. Could I measure up?

Against my better judgment, I go with Yes.

My van packed with paint and blank canvases, I barreled down the highway through Atlanta and then east on I-20, slowing as I left the city and turned into the old farm roads. As the traffic thinned, I felt my heart and pulse slow. Reaching the Monastery entrance, I called Brother Callistus, the monk in charge of public relations for The Monastery. I found myself surprised – how could a monk be in “Public Relations?”

I knew that Brother Callistus had organized the “Paint Out,” inviting select artists to stay for seven days and paint. The resulting art works would be featured in an “Art Collectors Gala and Wet Paint Sale” at the end of the week, to benefit the Monastery. I could only stay for two days. I worried, Will I will be able to contribute something worthy?

Surprises

Brother Callistus drove up the wide green lawn in a golf cart. He is a tall slim man with bronze skin, and he wore traditional monk’s garb, hood pulled back. I would later discover that Brother Callistus, in his younger days, worked on Wall Street. But his first words of greeting revealed only his passion for the nature of monastic life. “I read your artist’s statement on your website. You are a true contemplative,” he enthused in a lilting Caribbean accent. “The words are beautiful.”

I was pleased and surprised. My artist’s statement is my raison d’etre. It’s held a quiet spot on my website since 2006, but since that time, to my knowledge, only one other person in the world has read or commented on it. Ironically, earlier in the week I had decided it was too “airy-fairy,” and had edited it out of the biography Brother Callistus had requested after I accepted Marsha’s invitation.

It was as thought I had been recognized by an old friend. And I was suddenly pierced with the feeling we experience too seldom:  I have come Home.

I’ve believed for quite some time that being an artist is not just a calling with a spiritual side, but that it’s a calling that is entirely spiritual. One thing an artist quickly learns  –  when people have money to spend, a couch wins out over a painting nine times out of ten.

I don’t blame anyone. I own a couch myself, my first purchase out of college, as a matter of fact. Money is for the needs of this world – and art has nothing to do with our worldly existence. Art does not feed the body. It does not clothe the body. It does not shelter the body. It does not carry the body around on four wheels with leather seats in an air conditioned box.

Money, money, money

So artists do not choose to paint because they want to get rich (although a few do). But if we agree on that, then what exactly so powerfully compels a sane person to desert the more logical vocational choices?

I’ve arrived just in time for lunch, and this is the question that Brother Callistus wants to talk about.  Because obviously monks, too, have a calling that is not about money.  Is there a common bond? Are these monks, constrained in their monastic lives to vows of obedience and stability – never leaving – akin to artists, famously footloose free spirits who often ascribe to no established religion at all?

Plein Air artists at The Monastery Paint-Out in the Guest House

Artists and Monks Share Wine and Fellowship

Brother Callistus and I take a seat at a table with a half dozen other artists. I’m pleased that somehow I know many of them – from various studio tours, or odd days painting together on informal outings. They range from mostly middle-aged to outright gray-haired. Maybe I will fit in, after all.

Brother Callistus speaks about the contemplative spirit that is the basis of monastic life. He says that in leaving behind the world, a monk learns to discern the spiritual nature that permeates all living things. He says that as you grow this perception, you learn to see beneath the surface of things to a spiritual truth. You look beyond the physical appearance of a person to their eternal nature. You are looking at the soul.

All the artists seem to speak up in agreement. Yes, creating art is like that. When you paint, you are not simply painting what you see on the surface. You are looking for – perceiving – the unique voice that inhabits each subject. Otherwise, you could simply take a snapshot and be done with it.

Brother Callistus nods and smiles. “Yes, perceiving the spiritual is the nature of a monk’s contemplative life. That is what we are all here for.”

As lunch ends, I head outside with the other artists. We acknowledge the challenges of the physical world with our umbrellas, our bottles of sunscreen and bug repellent. But we are full of hope – that we will see something Wonderful. That we may produce a painting that will capture – dimly, or miraculously, with glorious vividness – the Eternal Truth that inhabits every tree, stone, and human being her on earth.

 

paintings by Ann Litrel of the Monastery of the Holy Spirit

Two works from the Monastery, the Belltower and the Cloisters – “Lift Thine Eyes”, and “Morning Illumination”

 

Wearing a Hard Hat

Marguerite Cline, former superintendant of Cherokee County Schools

Life Perspective – oil on canvas, 14” x 11”

(For a custom portrait contact me, or visit my Etsy shop online for details.)

 

Former Cherokee Schools Superintendant Marguerite Cline Steered the County Through the First Years of Explosive Growth

 Marguerite Cline was Superintendant of Cherokee County Schools from 1984-1992, an explosive period of growth when the county’s population leaped from 62,000 to 101,000. In 1992, Cline was named Georgia School Superintendant of the Year by the Georgia Association of School Superintendants. Since then Cline has worked as a motivational speaker, columnist, TV producer and host, and has served on multiple boards of directors and won numerous awards. She was the first woman Chairperson of Cherokee Chamber, and the first woman mayor of Waleska, serving seven successive terms.

This story is part of a series featuring local leaders and visionaries, some behind the scenes, who have had an impact on the community. 

___________________

“I spent a lot of time at construction sites wearing a hard hat.’”

Marguerite Cline is referring to the challenges of leading the county’s public school system during her two terms as Superintendant. One of the first things I notice about Marguerite is that she doesn’t rush to blurt out responses. She is warm, but she has the composure of one who is used to the public spotlight.

You started your professional life as an elementary school teacher. How did you make the leap to Superintendant?

“After twenty years teaching, I moved to administration, and then to Assistant Superintendant. I found I enjoyed it very much. I like people. I enjoyed participating in the planning, helping to select the curriculum. Then the Superintendant unexpectedly decided to step down.

“I realized, ‘This is the only time I’ll be able to run for that job without campaigning against my boss.’

“Before I decided to run, I placed calls to twenty men who were leaders in the county. I said, “I am not asking for your vote – yet. My question to you is, ‘Do you believe I have a chance of being elected Superintendant?’ Eighteen said ‘yes.’ One of the other two said, ‘yes,’ but that he didn’t want to see people writing bad things about me in the paper.” She smiles. “And the other told me ‘no.’ He said, ‘No woman can be expected to oversee that many employees or manage that much money.’

“I decided to run. Three weeks before the election that one ‘no’ called me back. He said, ‘I was wrong. You’re going to win by a landslide – and I want to help you do it.’” She chuckles. “He sent me a $50 campaign contribution.”

How did you know to reach out and make those calls?

”The people around you are usually going to tell you ’yes,’ And you can get this feeling that the whole world is, without realizing it’s the same fifteen people every day. I needed a perspective from outside my group.

“I won 74% of the vote.”

What were the challenges of the job?

“The major challenge was space. The student population in the county was always larger than the available classroom space – even though the entire time I was in office we had a new school under construction  – one every one or two years. I spent many hours in architect meetings looking at blueprints. I spent a lot of time at construction sites in a hard hat.

“Sex Ed was another challenge. We had to let parents know it was going to be more than, ‘Chickens lay eggs and they hatch.’ We decided to implement the program with an RN. Rita Anderson went with me to every community, inviting parents and staff to see the teaching materials we planned to use. Rita was a very flexible person. If parents had objections, she would say, ‘This has to be taught. How can we do this?’

“At the churches, Rita and I had a rule: We would not use the word ‘sex’ or ‘intercourse’ until someone in the congregation said it first. After that, it was fine for us to say it.

Cline mentions the controversial splitting of the middle schools from the elementary schools as another difficult challenge, a move which divided the county’s popular elementary school basketball teams.  But when I ask her the accomplishment she’s most proud of, she surprises me.

“I became a widow when my three children were very young,” she begins. She stayed in Waleska, continued teaching, and employed a housekeeper. “I couldn’t have done it without my husband’s family and the church. And If God had said to me, ’You’re going to be a young widow,’ I couldn’t have chosen a better grandmother for my children than Grandma Cline.

“My children and their accomplishments are the thing I’m most proud of. And we are all Christians. That’s a real joy, too.”

Marguerite Cline has a wall full of awards – and a lifetime of perspective.

Street Names and History Books

Juanita Hughes color corrected

The Story Teller – pastel on board, 11” x 14”

(For a custom portrait contact me, or visit my Etsy shop online for details.)

 

Woodstock’s Official Historian Searches the Past For Her Father While She Unearths the Family Tree For an Entire Community

Juanita Hughes is an author of multiple books, columnist with the Cherokee Tribune, and retired Branch Manager of the Woodstock Library, where she worked for twenty years. Named Woodstock’s official historian in 2006, her ongoing influence pervades the town, including the collections of the Woodstock Visitors Center, a dozen new street names, and in collaborations like Elm Street’s recent theater production, “Mizz Edna Drives on Main.”

This story is part of a series featuring local leaders and visionaries, some behind the scenes, who have had an impact on the community. An edited version of this story appeared in the March issue of the AroundAbout magazines.  The setting of Juanita’s portrait shows her among the collections at the Woodstock Visitors Center.

_____

“Can we make the interview Thursday?” she says when I call. “I strongly resemble Albert Einstein until after my Wednesday appointments at the hairdresser.”

Juanita Hughes defies the stereotypes of humorless, gray-haired librarians. Her blue eyes twinkling, she dives into our interview with a question connected to the biggest mystery of her past. “Are you going to ask me things I know the answer to?” I answer yes. “Well, let me tell you a story,” she says. “Years ago I did an interview on a local Canton TV station with Marguerite Cline. I wasn’t too nervous about it – because I knew nobody in Woodstock would be able to watch it. Marguerite promised she wouldn’t ask anything I didn’t know.

“So her first question was, ‘Tell me about your mother and father.’ Well. My father left our family when I was two. Back then when people asked about my father, my pat answer was, ‘We didn’t have no daddy, ‘cause we was too poor.’ But this didn’t seem like the right thing to say for TV, so I stammered and stuttered on my very first interview question. Marguerite was embarrassed. She apologized afterward for asking me a question she thought anybody would be able to answer.”

Juanita relates she’s made three trips to her father’s birthplace in Pennsylvania looking for more information about him, a journey she’s shared with readers in her weekly column. “There were so many things we hadn’t known. He had another wife and a family.  When I was little, he had sent me a few penny postcards with a few stories and drawings. That’s all I had from him growing up. It makes me wonder what will happen to this generation. They only have electronic notes. Those get erased – and then there’s nothing.”

I’m surprised to find out Woodstock’s historian wasn’t born here. “I was born in Denver and grew up in Dalton, my mother’s hometown. Homer [Juanita’s husband] and I moved thirteen times before we settled down here in 1965 for his job. When we came, Woodstock had a population of 750. You knew everyone. You could walk to the grocery store, to the library with your children. It was just a perfect little town – ‘nobody here but us chickens,’” she quips.

Juanita tells the story of one particular night when there was a community sing.

“There was a full moon that night. Back then the moon explorations were going on, and the news said our astronauts were orbiting the back side of the moon. They were up there. We were all gathered outside together singing together in the moonlight. The moon was so bright. I remember we were all looking up, knowing there was someone up there – and it was just spine-tingling. It was magical.”

But Juanita doesn’t linger on the memory. She hastens to say there are plenty of nice new people too, which make Woodstock still a nice place to live, and who have “made Woodstock what it is today.” She comments that she likes the studio space where we are conducting the interview, and that the shop below us, now Outspokin’ Bicycles, was once the town’s grocery store.

“Back then the library was in a storefront – where LKT Sports is now. When I started working there, we were only open 15 hours a week, and people stayed mad with us all the time. Everybody in Woodstock came from somewhere else – where the libraries were perfect,” Juanita says dryly. “That was in the 1980s, when my different interests kind of came together – the history, the library, and also the writing.” She mentions her first newspaper column, and authoring the history of First Baptist Church Woodstock, Set Apart, which she describes as an almost overwhelming task.

“You know, I never had a formal education. I learned to write by reading.

“The project was huge – it was really too big for me. But I strongly felt the presence of the Holy Spirit as I worked on it, because things would happen – like, a person would show up at the library with an article about the exact thing I was looking for – a piece I needed about a certain family. It happened again and again.

“Somebody said I lived a ‘charmed life.’ I became known as ‘lucky’ because things seemed to fall into my lap – like when we did programming for the library. One time I had Jeff Foxworthy’s father, who had written a cookbook. I had a lot of good people like that. But there was no charm to it. What I learned at the library was that when you want something, all you have to do is ask.

“In 1995, with the Woodstock Centennial approaching, a group of us thought we should do something about that. I wasn’t in charge, but I was the person they asked to go in front of City Council to make the request – for a big city celebration. Smith Johnston, Jr., was actually the person instrumental in getting us started – he commissioned a book on the City’s history. The city celebration included a Gala, and parade with fireworks. They commissioned the mural, too.”

When did you get connected with the Woodstock Visitors Center?

“I began collecting history files at home when I was working on Set Apart. Later they went to the Visitors Center. The City named me ‘Woodstock’s Official Historian,’ ” she laughs, “because they got tired of not knowing answers to people’s questions. They just sent them to me.”

She waves her hand in the direction of the large new buildings of Woodstock Downtown. “When the new development was going on, I started thinking about those generic street names they use like ‘Oak’ or ‘Magnolia.’ The section they were developing was where the black community used to live, ‘way back when. It seemed a shame for that to be gone and for us to have no memory of what was there before.

“So I just e-mailed the developer, Pam Sessions, and said, can we have some input into what you name the streets?  She came and met with me right away – for two hours.  She was an amazing person. I showed her my list of Woodstock people and why they were important. ‘Evelyn Chambers was the first and only female Mayor. Bailey was the first black Councilman….’”

I nod as she speaks, but she looks at me and utters with the certainty of one who has seen much of life:

“The longer you live, the more interested you will be.”

Whether it’s the history of her father or her adopted hometown, Juanita tells the stories – and keeps asking the questions.

Midwinter Visitors

Tufted Titmouse is one in a flock of midwinter foragers

The Tufted Titmouse is one in a flock of midwinter foragers.

Today as ice fell from the white-gray sky, I remembered a bitter day a decade ago. The February morning was cold, and my two sons Tyler and Joseph and I stayed inside. Subdued in our post-holiday routines, the hours passed slowly. But around midmorning, an unfamiliar sound outside became noticeable. Barely audible at first, it grew, seeming to draw nearer, until it became a distinct twittering and chirping, a swelling of voices – birds singing!

“Mommy, come see!” My five-year old Joseph was pressed against the window. Tyler and I followed. The sky was alive – electrified – with birds. Flitting from tree to tree – birds, and more birds, circling tree trunks, probing bark, poking through the leaves.

Scores of chickadees and titmice filled the yard, along with birds I had never seen – small brisk woodpeckers, a nuthatch with a brown head, a little warbler with a flash of yellow at its tail. Tyler brought forth the bird guide, and we repeated each name for Joseph as we found it: Downy Woodpecker! Brown-headed Nuthatch! Yellow-rumped Warbler!

But our visitors moved on long before we tired of the show. The yard emptied like a sieve, leaking life and song. For hours the boys talked about the birds. Why had they come? Where had they gone? And they lamented – why did they leave so soon?

A field guide dispelled the mystery:  “…Continuing throughout fall and winter into early spring, mixed foraging flocks patrol forests and fields…mostly insectivorous species…A forest will appear empty of birds in winter, only to suddenly have the trees swarming with vocalizing chickadees, titmice, and other species.”

All our feeders filled with seed, all the fruiting shrubs planted just for birds – and our visitors were after plain old insects. I couldn’t help but laugh.

The birds never returned. Yet they sang in my memory all winter long, a bright song in that dark season. And one day as I sadly looked upon my cold silent yard it came to me – their visit was not just a memory; it was a promise – a promise that even in the cold of winter, Life would endure, a promise that one spring morning the silence would end and we would hear the songs once more.

How do birds survive the winter? Many small birds have an average body temperature of 107 degrees, and can forage with no apparent discomfort. The typical chickadee has 2000 feathers, with muscular control over all of them. It “fluffs” these feathers to gain better insulation. Some species actually roost together in tree cavities to conserve heat. These include the Brown Creeper, the Winter Wren, the White-breasted Nuthatch, and the Eastern Bluebird.

Drawing birds closerTo attract foraging birds, you can try making a thin “pssh pssh” sound or kissing the back of your hand – sounds which mimic distress calls.

A good nature guide for reading: John Krichner’s Ecology of Eastern Forests, of the Peterson Field Guide series.

 

 

Digging Up Sweet Potatoes

Reinhardt Vice President JoEllen Wilson

Lit Up – oil on canvas, 11” x 14”

(For a custom portrait contact me, or visit my Etsy shop online for details.)

 

Reinhardt Fundraiser and Vice President JoEllen Wilson Cultivates the Surprising Touches That Win Hearts for this University

JoEllen Wilson is Vice President for Advancement at Cherokee County’s Reinhardt University, where for the past twenty years she has served in positions of increasing responsibility, eventually becoming the school’s first female Vice President. Beginning in 1997, Wilson became Special Assistant to the President, serving as the “familiar face” for many alumni and donors in a critical time of transition, as a succession of four men rotated through the office, culminating with Dr. Isherwood arriving in 2002. Currently she oversees donor relations, marketing and fundraising for the university.

 This story is part of a series featuring local leaders and visionaries, some behind the scenes, who have had an impact on the community. When Ms. Wilson began working at Reinhardt, it was a two-year school which offered one Associate’s degree in Liberal Arts, serving 400 students. Reinhardt is now a post-graduate institution with 41 undergraduate degree programs and six Master’s degrees, with a student population of 1,200.

 Ms. Wilson is pictured here on the stage of the Falany Performing Arts Center. 

 _____

“I told the President, ‘If I have to plan one more Homecoming, I will DIE.’ ”

I suspect it’s an unusual statement for JoEllen Wilson. A half an hour into our interview, I have already mentally designated her as one of those rare people with inexhaustible reserves of energy and good will toward their fellow man.

Wilson is referring to her first job at Reinhardt, a part-time position in Alumni Relations. “I’m a people person, so that job was perfect for me. My sons had started high school, and I was ready to get back into the workforce.

“Fundraising and alumni relations aren’t about what people think; it’s not about asking people for money. It’s about the relationships. My job in Alumni Relations eventually became full-time, and I loved it! But after five years, there was a point when I felt like I just couldn’t plan another Alumni Weekend or Homecoming. I was burned out.” At this point, she confesses about her threat to “die” if she has to plan one more Homecoming. “I knew that might be the end of me working here,” Wilson adds.

“But fortunately, the president had another job for me.

“Dr. Falany had just found out he would need to retire, for health reasons. To prepare for this change, he brought me on as Special Assistant to the President. I would be helping to transition him out of the office, and the next President transition in. I would make introductions, maintain relationships with donors and alumni, and staff. As it happened, two more presidents came through before Dr. Isherwood arrived in 2002. It was an amazing opportunity and growing time for me. I learned something new from every one of those men, almost every day.”

I ask Ms. Wilson how she first made the connection with Reinhardt.

“Since I was a girl!’ she exclaims. “My grandmother was a house mother and a nurse on campus. I used to visit Big Mama here, and I always thought I would come here so I could become a teacher. While I was earning my two-year degree, I met my husband John here, and we married. We had twin sons, and THEY both came here, and met THEIR wives here. That happens at a lot of schools. But there’s a saying we have at Reinhardt about our students and their spouses: We’re like a shoe factory – we put people out in pairs. ”

What part of your story do you think people relate to most? The smile disappears for a rare moment as she pauses thoughtfully. “I think it’s when people hear I finished my college degree and my masters’ while I went back to work here. People will tell me they were encouraged when they hear that, and they think, ‘Maybe I can do that, too.’

“This is a people-oriented place, and even though we’ve grown, we haven’t lost that. I’m so pleased that even after adding a football team, we still have a culture of caring and respect. Those young men have been trained by our excellent coach to be ambassadors for the university. We’re a people place.

“I’ll tell you something funny. Dr. Falany and I once visited a longtime supporter who was extremely wealthy – she probably could afford whatever she wanted, anything. But what she really wanted was sweet potatoes from Dr. Falany’s garden. So whenever we went to visit her, we first had to drive over to Dr. Falany’s garden and dig up those sweet potatoes, so she could have some!

“I think that the personal attention at Reinhardt can’t be contained in 600 acres. It goes out into the community.”

The same could be said for JoEllen Wilson.