Georgia on my mind

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This was published 14 years ago

Georgia on my mind

Old South ... the wall of Confederate generals at Stone Mountain.

Old South ... the wall of Confederate generals at Stone Mountain.Credit: AFP

I've always thought that one of the most stupid things you can do is assemble your entire family under one roof. As far as I'm concerned, family gatherings are like sugar-coated poison. It might look sweet on the surface but underneath is all the bitterness of buried hatchets and sibling rivalry just waiting to hijack the holidays.

Americans seem to love getting the whole clan together right in the dead of winter - without the benefit of a beach or a barbecue, or even an impromptu football game, to break the tension. And to me, Thanksgiving is the most bizarre holiday of all.

"Why would you celebrate the day when you killed all the Indians?" I ask my husband, Brian, a native son of Atlanta, where we are heading. He sighs and looks pained.

"We didn't kill them on Thanksgiving. They saved our lives, we were friends, they brought us food."

"Oh ... and then you killed them?"

Brian shoots me a warning look and we drive on in silence. Thanksgiving is his favourite holiday. It's the only one that hasn't been commercialised to death, such as Christmas, or caricatured within an inch of its life, such as Halloween. It's a holiday that has retained its spirit - a simple gathering of loved ones to share food.

Contrary to popular belief, there was no original Thanksgiving. Most cultures gave thanks after a successful harvest - the native Americans had been doing it for centuries. The settlers in the New World held thanksgivings in honour of a military victory, a new law or a good crop.

But the Thanksgiving re-enacted by American school-children everywhere took place in 1621 when a boatload of Britons survived a gruelling two-month journey from England only to be blown off course to Massachusetts. In typical settler style, they were unprepared for the harsh winter and, by spring, more than half were dead.

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The rest were saved by a Wampanoag Indian named Squanto, who had spent time as a slave in England. He reportedly strode into the struggling camp with a "Welcome, Englishmen", then proceeded to save their miserable lives. Squanto showed the settlers how to fish, sow corn and fertilise the soil, so by harvest time, there was enough food for a three-day feast for 53 pilgrims and 90 Indians.

The settlers would have had an easier time had they landed further south. Unlike Massachusetts at this time of year, which is under snow, Atlanta is 20 degrees, with brilliant autumn foliage under a crisp blue sky.

The first time I saw Atlanta, it was burning. Scarlett O'Hara clutched Rhett Butler on a stolen buggy, fleeing the advance of the Yankee army. To my eight-year-old eyes, it was a spectacular scene but no more real than the prince battling the evil fairy in Sleeping Beauty. To anyone north of Virginia, the Yankees are a baseball team. But down south, especially in Atlanta, the American Civil War is still deeply impressed on the psyche. General Sherman knew the only way to win was to completely destroy Atlanta, which, because of its railroads and cotton, was the economic engine of the South.

On his March to the Sea, Sherman burnt Atlanta to the ground. Legend has it that while his soldiers torched the city, he had his orchestra play Miserere from Il Trovatore, and he could never again hear the piece without smelling the smoke and feeling the flames of Atlanta's fall. By the time Sherman was done, only a tenth of the city was left standing.

As we drive along Peachtree Road, Atlanta's dazzling skyline really does represent the city's symbol - a phoenix risen from the ashes. Atlanta is one of the fastest-growing cities in America - the unofficial capital of the South - with the busiest airport in the world.

Though any six-year-old here can tell you about "the war of Northern aggression", there are only a few physical memories, such as the old lamp post on the corner of Whitehall and Alabama streets, which was struck by the first bomb that hit Atlanta during Sherman's siege. The most impressive monument to the war is 20 minutes out of town. The magnificent Stone Mountain is a 200-million-year-old slab of exposed granite that was turned into the largest sculpture in the world. Three Confederate heroes are carved into the north side: Jefferson Davis, president of the Confederacy, and generals Stonewall Jackson and Robert Lee.

The mountain has a colourful history - at the base, Yankee troops destroyed the railroad by bending iron rails around the trees, while the Ku Klux Klan paid to get the sculpture started after the Civil War. The carving is 39 metres high - as tall as a 10-storey building and twice as high as the four faces of Mount Rushmore. If you hike to the top on a clear day, you can see all the way to the Appalachian Mountains.

If you travel on Thanksgiving, this year on November 26, be aware that more than 35 million Americans are doing the same. Brian and I are smug because we have driven in a few days early, which means we won't be stuck in traffic for 10 hours and we can also go out on one of the biggest nights of the year - Thanksgiving Eve.

When Atlanta hip-hop group Outkast won best new group at the 1995 Source awards in New York, they were booed off stage. East and west coast rap was all about New York and Los Angeles and the Atlanta rap scene was the subject of ridicule. In the face of the booing crowd, Outkast yelled "The South's got somethin' to say!"

More than a decade later, no one doubts it. Dirty South became a unique hip-hop genre that Outkast described as having "the feel of the blues, the togetherness of funk, the conviction of gospel, the energy of rock and the improvisation of jazz". Home-grown Atlanta names include Ludacris, Boyz n da Hood, Jermaine Dupri and Kris Kross. There are dozens of Dirty South venues scattered through the city but the slickest is Velvet Room on Chamblee Tucker Road. Jamie Foxx hosts his parties here, Sean "Diddy" Combs occasionally steals the mic from the DJ and Jay-Z and his posse might well be lounging in the VIP room. If there is no Dirty South playing live, the DJ will definitely be spinning it across the room with its red velvet upholstery and chandeliers.

There is nothing like a home-cooked meal to cure a hangover and luckily Thanksgiving is at a civilised hour, about noon. My ears are only mildly ringing from the night before and I sink into the gentle embrace of the Old South. Outside, giant magnolias line the streets and white houses with black shutters and neoclassical columns stand as elegant as tuxedoes overlooking manicured lawns. Lounging on a blue chintz chaise with a chandelier throwing sparkles over the floral wallpaper, I really could be Scarlett. And foreigner though I am, I feel a strange nostalgia for a civilisation gone with the wind.

I snap out of it when the food arrives. Since Abraham Lincoln declared Thanksgiving a national holiday in the middle of the Civil War, the South was originally not so excited about the celebration. But much like rap music, the South took a northern tradition and gave it a flavour all of its own. First comes the sweet-potato casserole sprinkled with cinnamon and topped with clouds of roasted marshmallows. Then comes the fresh-snapped green beans sauteed in butter, yellow crook-necked squash with onions and steaming cornbread just out of the oven.

Later, there will be pecan pie with a caramel shell that cracks under your fork, a pumpkin pie made from Halloween's jack-o'-lantern and ambrosia with slices of orange and coconut soaked in Grand Marnier.

But the star of the day makes its show-stopping entrance when the audience has just been seated. Benjamin Franklin nominated the turkey as America's national bird, calling the bald eagle "a bird of dubious moral character". More than 48 million turkeys are eaten at Thanksgiving - minus two lucky souls, who are pardoned every year by the president on national television.

The one we have been served is the size of a wombat: more than 10 kilograms of poultry slow-roasted over a barbecue since dawn. The aroma is heavenly and we "oooh" and "ahh" as the breast meat falls away from the carving knife.

In that moment of wonder, all buried hatchets and rivalries are forgotten. In the spirit of a famous Atlantan, Martin Luther King jnr, we gather comfort from the abundance of food and remember that despite our differences - North and South, east coast and west - we love each other. And if I were a rapper, I might compose a little ditty in which Thanksgiving rhymed with the best gift of all: forgiving.

FAST FACTS


United Airlines has a fare for about $1470 flying to Chicago via Los Angeles and then non-stop to Atlanta (Melbourne passengers fly via Sydney). Delta Air Lines, Qantas and Air China have comparable fares. Australians must apply for US travel authorisation before departure on the secure website

https://esta.cbp.dhs.gov.


Shellmont Inn is an impeccably restored 1891 National Register mansion in Atlanta's theatre, restaurant and cultural district. Rooms from $US180 ($193) a night. Atlanta Marriott Marquis has rooms for $US160 a night. Atlanta Hostel in the heart of Midtown has rooms for $US80 a night.


Thanksgiving is the fourth Thursday of November (this year November 26) but arrive a little earlier to catch the autumn foliage.


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