IS THIS MONTH'S JOURNEY
December, 2007
South Carolina, the land of Cotton! Well, not as it was in the 18th century, when it was the main crop. However, Cotton still plays a vital role in their economy and our daily lives. The next time you throw on a pair of jeans or your favourite “T”; look at the label; it will probably say 100% cotton. 
While visiting the The South Carolina Cotton Museum, we discovered the metamorphous of those duds we are so comfortable wearing. Faded jeans and T’s start out as a seed planted in early spring, and then patiently waits the warm days of midsummer to flower. When the bloom opens, it’s a creamy white but then turns a deep pink as it matures. In early August, the cotton is just beginning to peek through the foliage, however, by the end of August, defoliation begins and the cotton pops into view. In the fall, fields are white with cotton balls, pickers and gins are going full steam. By winter, cotton is picked and fields are fallow until next spring , but the evidence of this year’s crop is everywhere, tuffs of white are caught up in trees and along roadsides, cotton is spun, woven and dyed and new jeans and T’s are waiting to be old friends.
.
Doesn't your indoor cat also deserve a KITTY KAT KABANA?
Let’s step back in time to pre-civil war, to the rich plantations, to where owning slaves was as natural to them as the cotton they grew. Today, they’re like any working farm; its employees come in the morning and leave at night. However, it wasn’t always that way at Boone Hall and thousands of other plantations in the Old South. While touring one estate we saw documented evidence, 
showing how slaves were bought, while on a simple shopping trip to town for supplies, and then later sold at the whim of the owner. Tiny one-room cabins where the slaves rested their tired bodies and bruised egos, sometimes in leg and neck irons. This indignity was applied, when they had a history of trying to escape their bondage.
In the movie, “Gone with the Wind”, set against the backdrop of the Civil War, when Scarlet O’Hara ran through the Tara Plantation’s grand hall, screaming ‘the Yankees are coming, the Yankees are coming”, there was terror in her voice. However, while those echoes rang through this grand hall and in other Plantations, I dare to say, that to the Old South’s enslaved and oppressed, they had a very different meaning, “Freedom at last!”
Tennessee is so rich in Civil War history that I couldn’t begin to do it justice in a paragraph or two; therefore, I will leave it entirely to our history books. Instead, we will begin our journey here in the Great Smokey Mountain Park. “Shaconage” meaning “blue, like smoke “was the name given to these mountains by the native people long before the white man , because of the haze that shrouds their rounded summits, many of which rise 6000 feet above sea level. Today it’s a 521,000-acre park with hundreds of miles of hiking trails through a lush green forest. Nearly 40% of the woodland is still virgin growth with 600 black bears, being its prominent residents.
Mere words can’t convey the pleasure I felt exploring these winding mountain roads, where deep valley vistas extend in earth tone layers to infinity. Where cool mountain water trickles from steep cliffs. The further you descend they join with one another, until they’re plummeting down hillsides as foamy cascades and waterfalls. Where past lives are still evident in remnants of small mountain homes and barns. Where, with a little imagination, you can hear the sweet sound of a Banjo or catch the pine scent of Rosin from a Fiddlers Bow. Pigeon Forge
However, if you would rather the toe tappin’, hand clappin’, knee slappin’ real McCoy, there’s the touristy towns of
and Gatlinburg, a stone’s throw away from the park, where pickin’ and a fiddlin’ is on tap all day long. While in Pigeon Forge you should visit the theme park of Dollywood and the Dixieland Stampede, both of which are owned by, yes the one and only Dolly Parton.
The diverse tapestry of life in the Smokey Mountains is in some ways the result of the last ice age. Although, continental glaciers didn’t get this far south, cold ice age climates pushed plants and animals far south of their former ranges. When the climate warmed, these northern species had acclimatized to their new environment, thus remaining south in the cooler mountains.
These mysterious peaks above the cloud are also, where “White Lightnin’, “The Recipe” or better known to most as “Moonshine” was born. They provided everything a moonshiner needed - he would find a little out of the way creek where red horsemint grew on its banks, which meant soft water. He’d then conceal his Still in a thick growth of Mountain Laurel, so “revenuers” would have a hard time finding it. And of course he had no problem finding corn, “cause that’s what he grew best."
All l l l aboard, next stop Chattanooga! Woo, woo!! What is now the restaurant at the holiday Inn was once a waiting lounge for the train from Cincinnati. This train, as you may have guessed, was nicknamed the Chattanooga Choo Choo. There was even a song written about it and its journey from north to south. Most of us can still remember the lyrics can’t we. “Par-don me boys, is that the Chat-ta-noo-ga, choo-choo, track twen-ty-nine?---------------- The train (Circa 1880) is on display on track 29 outside the restaurant window.
It was a fun thing to see but the ultimate experience of the day was the Aquarium and the IMAX theatre Journey.
The freshwater Aquarium building narrates the journey of a raindrop as it spills from the top of a mountain to chart streams, swamps, lakes and rivers throughout the world. We saw playful river otters, ferocious snapping turtles, cottonmouth water moccasins, leathery looking alligators, and giant catfish along with thousands of other freshwater marvels. After lunch, the adventure continued from the river to the sea in the salt water Aquarium building, where sharks, stingrays, jellyfish, and octopus, live in harmony. 
There was even a butterfly exhibit where Mother Nature shows off her crown jewels. These flying flowers are very much at home in their natural habitat, fluttering from one plant to another, sometimes lingering for a moment for a photo op. However, the best I saved for last, a feast for the eyes, a 45 minute IMAX Journey to the oceans deep. It was so realistic, I felt as if the first wave of water came rushing toward me, was going to sweep me out of my seat and the shark that headed straight for me, knew exactly what he wanted for dinner. With such clear, larger than life 3D images, everything seemed to, just leap off the six-story screen. So much so that once I put my hand to my face in an attempt to brush something away, then I realized it was images of small fish and plankton hovering around my head.
Would anyone argue with me, if I said that Nashville wasn’t the birthplace of Country Music? A while ago, I would have wagered a little brown jug of “White Lightnin’ ” that it was. As it turns out, country music began in Bristol Tennessee, in 1927, when a talent scout for Victor Talking Machine Company came to Bristol and met Jimmie Rodgers and the Carter Family and the rest is, as you might say, history.
Speaking of “Country Music and Nashville”, I grew up thinking that they were one of the same. That is so far from the truth. Nashville is anything but just country music and it’s no more evident than at the Musicians Hall of Fame and Museum. Certainly, its roots are in country and gospel. However, it’s Elvis Presley, Roy Orbison, Brenda Lee; its Rock ‘n’ roll. It’s Bob Dylan, Jimmy Buffett, Joan Baez; it’s folk. It’s Paul McCartney, Ringo Star, Amy Gran; it’s pop. Even Jimmi Hendrix credited Nashville as being where he really learned to play guitar. It’s also Reggae, Jazz, Soul and Blues; it’s the Mother Church of Music.
Stay tuned as we take you from Western Tennessee to Alabama
While visiting the The South Carolina Cotton Museum, we discovered the metamorphous of those duds we are so comfortable wearing. Faded jeans and T’s start out as a seed planted in early spring, and then patiently waits the warm days of midsummer to flower. When the bloom opens, it’s a creamy white but then turns a deep pink as it matures. In early August, the cotton is just beginning to peek through the foliage, however, by the end of August, defoliation begins and the cotton pops into view. In the fall, fields are white with cotton balls, pickers and gins are going full steam. By winter, cotton is picked and fields are fallow until next spring , but the evidence of this year’s crop is everywhere, tuffs of white are caught up in trees and along roadsides, cotton is spun, woven and dyed and new jeans and T’s are waiting to be old friends..
Doesn't your indoor cat also deserve a KITTY KAT KABANA?
Let’s step back in time to pre-civil war, to the rich plantations, to where owning slaves was as natural to them as the cotton they grew. Today, they’re like any working farm; its employees come in the morning and leave at night. However, it wasn’t always that way at Boone Hall and thousands of other plantations in the Old South. While touring one estate we saw documented evidence, showing how slaves were bought, while on a simple shopping trip to town for supplies, and then later sold at the whim of the owner. Tiny one-room cabins where the slaves rested their tired bodies and bruised egos, sometimes in leg and neck irons. This indignity was applied, when they had a history of trying to escape their bondage.
In the movie, “Gone with the Wind”, set against the backdrop of the Civil War, when Scarlet O’Hara ran through the Tara Plantation’s grand hall, screaming ‘the Yankees are coming, the Yankees are coming”, there was terror in her voice. However, while those echoes rang through this grand hall and in other Plantations, I dare to say, that to the Old South’s enslaved and oppressed, they had a very different meaning, “Freedom at last!”
Tennessee is so rich in Civil War history that I couldn’t begin to do it justice in a paragraph or two; therefore, I will leave it entirely to our history books. Instead, we will begin our journey here in the Great Smokey Mountain Park. “Shaconage” meaning “blue, like smoke “was the name given to these mountains by the native people long before the white man , because of the haze that shrouds their rounded summits, many of which rise 6000 feet above sea level. Today it’s a 521,000-acre park with hundreds of miles of hiking trails through a lush green forest. Nearly 40% of the woodland is still virgin growth with 600 black bears, being its prominent residents.
Mere words can’t convey the pleasure I felt exploring these winding mountain roads, where deep valley vistas extend in earth tone layers to infinity. Where cool mountain water trickles from steep cliffs. The further you descend they join with one another, until they’re plummeting down hillsides as foamy cascades and waterfalls. Where past lives are still evident in remnants of small mountain homes and barns. Where, with a little imagination, you can hear the sweet sound of a Banjo or catch the pine scent of Rosin from a Fiddlers Bow. Pigeon Forge
However, if you would rather the toe tappin’, hand clappin’, knee slappin’ real McCoy, there’s the touristy towns of
and Gatlinburg, a stone’s throw away from the park, where pickin’ and a fiddlin’ is on tap all day long. While in Pigeon Forge you should visit the theme park of Dollywood and the Dixieland Stampede, both of which are owned by, yes the one and only Dolly Parton.The diverse tapestry of life in the Smokey Mountains is in some ways the result of the last ice age. Although, continental glaciers didn’t get this far south, cold ice age climates pushed plants and animals far south of their former ranges. When the climate warmed, these northern species had acclimatized to their new environment, thus remaining south in the cooler mountains.
These mysterious peaks above the cloud are also, where “White Lightnin’, “The Recipe” or better known to most as “Moonshine” was born. They provided everything a moonshiner needed - he would find a little out of the way creek where red horsemint grew on its banks, which meant soft water. He’d then conceal his Still in a thick growth of Mountain Laurel, so “revenuers” would have a hard time finding it. And of course he had no problem finding corn, “cause that’s what he grew best."
All l l l aboard, next stop Chattanooga! Woo, woo!! What is now the restaurant at the holiday Inn was once a waiting lounge for the train from Cincinnati. This train, as you may have guessed, was nicknamed the Chattanooga Choo Choo. There was even a song written about it and its journey from north to south. Most of us can still remember the lyrics can’t we. “Par-don me boys, is that the Chat-ta-noo-ga, choo-choo, track twen-ty-nine?---------------- The train (Circa 1880) is on display on track 29 outside the restaurant window. It was a fun thing to see but the ultimate experience of the day was the Aquarium and the IMAX theatre Journey.
The freshwater Aquarium building narrates the journey of a raindrop as it spills from the top of a mountain to chart streams, swamps, lakes and rivers throughout the world. We saw playful river otters, ferocious snapping turtles, cottonmouth water moccasins, leathery looking alligators, and giant catfish along with thousands of other freshwater marvels. After lunch, the adventure continued from the river to the sea in the salt water Aquarium building, where sharks, stingrays, jellyfish, and octopus, live in harmony. 
There was even a butterfly exhibit where Mother Nature shows off her crown jewels. These flying flowers are very much at home in their natural habitat, fluttering from one plant to another, sometimes lingering for a moment for a photo op. However, the best I saved for last, a feast for the eyes, a 45 minute IMAX Journey to the oceans deep. It was so realistic, I felt as if the first wave of water came rushing toward me, was going to sweep me out of my seat and the shark that headed straight for me, knew exactly what he wanted for dinner. With such clear, larger than life 3D images, everything seemed to, just leap off the six-story screen. So much so that once I put my hand to my face in an attempt to brush something away, then I realized it was images of small fish and plankton hovering around my head.
Would anyone argue with me, if I said that Nashville wasn’t the birthplace of Country Music? A while ago, I would have wagered a little brown jug of “White Lightnin’ ” that it was. As it turns out, country music began in Bristol Tennessee, in 1927, when a talent scout for Victor Talking Machine Company came to Bristol and met Jimmie Rodgers and the Carter Family and the rest is, as you might say, history.
Speaking of “Country Music and Nashville”, I grew up thinking that they were one of the same. That is so far from the truth. Nashville is anything but just country music and it’s no more evident than at the Musicians Hall of Fame and Museum. Certainly, its roots are in country and gospel. However, it’s Elvis Presley, Roy Orbison, Brenda Lee; its Rock ‘n’ roll. It’s Bob Dylan, Jimmy Buffett, Joan Baez; it’s folk. It’s Paul McCartney, Ringo Star, Amy Gran; it’s pop. Even Jimmi Hendrix credited Nashville as being where he really learned to play guitar. It’s also Reggae, Jazz, Soul and Blues; it’s the Mother Church of Music.
K&G, somewhere on the road
