Day 10: Atlanta

I had two days to spend in Atlanta. On this first one, my hostess was working, so I wandered solo. My first stop was The Dump, the apartment where Margaret Mitchell lived when she wrote Gone with the Wind. It is now the Margaret Mitchell House & Museum. I had revisited the book as part of my trip to Georgia, as I remembered being engrossed in it when I read it some 25 years before. Of course, I had also seen the movie, but it was the book that had riveted me when I read it. I make no excuses for the racism that permeates it. Mitchell’s era was one that was rife with nostalgia for the Old South and the book has an unchallenged sense of white supremacy. It is jarring. It also contains strong women characters and emphasizes the importance of gumption over breeding, so it hits on central themes of American life, including the Original Sin of slavery. I wondered if it could be adapted to a 21st century context or retell the story from the perspective of one of its enslaved characters (one interesting idea I have also seen is that it could be retold emphasizing that the central love story is between Scarlett and Melanie, even in the existing). Mitchell had moved to the apartment as a newlywed from a much bigger house, so she gave it the derogatory nickname. And, despite her limitations on race, she accomplished quite a feat in creating a blockbuster bestseller during the Depression about a woman who turns out to be stronger than a lot of the men around her. I was not allowed to take photos or video while visiting the museum with one exception. In the kitchen, they had a display of common food stuff of the era, which included some products from a Toledo-based store that has been long-shuttered, Tiedtkes. So I captured that on film.

The Dump

My next stop was the one that would dominate my day, the Martin Luther King Jr Historic Site, which is National Park Service site that encompasses a number of pieces of Dr. King’s history in Atlanta. While I waited to begin my tour of King’s childhood home and neighborhood, I had some time to explore on my own. My first stop was the Freedom Walkway that contains MLK’s grave by a reflecting pool, and that of his wife, Coretta Scott King. It includes an eternal flame and, on the day I visited, there were families and young kids there paying their respects. I was inspired by their company as I did the same.

His inscription: Free at last. Hers: Corinthians.

I had some time, so I headed over to the Ebenezer Baptist Church, where the King family has had a long history of ministry that began with MLK’s father and continued with his daughter at the time I visited. In fact, my poor timing at meeting people continued that day. I learned that Bernice King had been in on the day I was there, but I missed her as I did the Carters in Plains. Sadly, the King family history with Ebenezer includes the killing of Dr. King’s mother by a deranged shooter at the church in 1974, something I did not know before I visited. I will admit here that I have a phobia of entering sacred spaces alone that dates back to my childhood. So when I arrived solo, I asked first if I could go in and was delighted when one of the staff accompanied me. He explained that the church had initially been built by German transplants to Atlanta, but when race rioting in the city pushed African Americans into this Sweet Auburn neighborhood early in the 20th century, the Baptist community already named as Ebenezer moved into the current church. The church is grand and left open to the public except when there are big events. The clock in the sanctuary is stopped at the time MLK was killed in Memphis in 1968. I was glad I had a chance to take it all in before the tour.

I walked back over to the Park Service site for my tour, which took us into MLK’s birth house. NPS has been buying up houses in the historically Black neighborhood and restoring them to look from the outside as they did during King’s childhood, and updating the inside, then renting them out. Since King was born the same year as my mother, the homes and neighborhood reminded me most of the neighborhood of my father’s youth, where low-middle class, hard-working families clustered together in sturdy late 19th century houses, played in packs of kids, and planned for a better future. The King family was solidly middle class, and the house was substantial. I suspect I was also restricted from taking photos or video there, because I have no pictures of the interior.

Childhood home of MLK

I headed back over to the Freedom Walkway for a bit, taking in the statuary and feeling grateful that the site was so accessible as I often get daunted finding my way around big cities. I bought a copy of King’s speeches before heading back into Atlanta.

Although I took no photos or videos of it, I am certain I made one more stop that afternoon before heading back to connect with my friend. That was at the world headquarters of Coca-Cola to take in the World of Coca-Cola Tour after a quick stop for lunch and drive past CNN headquarters. I had heard friends rave about this over the years, particularly the part where you can sample the product in its variants from all over the world. I was pleased to see the sampling included types of Fanta as well, which was the more popular drink in my experience of East and North Africa. The tour started with an orientation film, and I do remember that it began with that unique sound of Coke as you open the can or bottle and release the carbonation. I loved that they pointed this signature out. Incredibly, I still have a small glass souvenir bottle of the drink that I picked up that day still sitting in my refrigerator eight years later. Some things just stick with you. I’ve probably drunk a river of Coke Zero since that tour.

There was more to see and do in Atlanta, but I had most of a final day for that. I put myself in Atlanta’s notoriously congested traffic and returned to my friend’s home for a long walk with Tamu at a park that overlooked the city. I think we went out for burgers too, as the day was mild enough to sit outside with the pup. Her neighborhood reminded my of my experiences in another southern town, Louisville. We stopped found parking on the street and enjoyed an easy meal, then hung out for an evening. I was glad I had saved some time for Atlanta.

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