I am somewhere firmly in the middle.
Growing up in the bustling metropolis of Social Circle, Georgia was idyllic. I grew up on a farm where the gravel meets a road named after a Primitive Baptist Church. My parents believed very deeply in education as a key to my future success, and whereas my clothes and toys may have been limited by budget, my parents never allowed my love of books to be. The problem with rearing me was that I always asked questions and wanted to understand the hows and whys of things. My mother is a spitfire optimist who fiercely believes in the potential of all children, especially her own precocious one. When she hears of something new, she often wishes to try it, much to my father’s consternation. In me this fostered a love of innovation and an innate curiosity about whether a different method might be more effective. My father is a resolute pessimist who enjoys stories of yesteryear, traditions, and the quality of developed ritual. From him my love of folklore, politics, and ambition in business was cultivated. He is the steady; she is wide open. As I have aged, I am a strong representation of both and, like my geographical location, I am caught somewhere in the middle of hope and reluctance. Continue reading “Georgia: Somewhere Between Koinonia and “The City Too Busy To Hate””