<![CDATA[TRUTH-LIES...with FD Thornton

<![CDATA[TRUTH-LIES...with FD Thornton - Never Gone]]>Thu, 16 Apr 2026 07:15:49 -0700Weebly<![CDATA[Chapter 9: Awaken Again]]>Thu, 26 Sep 2024 13:05:53 GMThttps://www.fdthornton.com/never-gone/chapter-9-awaken-again

Suddenly awaken from a peaceful nights sleep, Grayson gathers himself and looks at his phone only to see that it’s just 2:15 in the morning. Reaching over to turn off his CPAP machine, he removes the mask to see that his wife Pam sound asleep. So with his chest pounding he waits a moment to make sure it’s just a panic attack and not something worse. But his breathing feels fine, although he’s a little lightheaded. So as with thousands of other panic attacks under his belt, he pushes the chair aside that holds the CPAP machine, and quietly heads towards the bathroom. While standing over the toilet he’s grateful that he’s not having the adrenaline rush which usually occurs when needing to empty one’s bowels. A telltale sign that something bad is about to happen. So he empty’s his bladder, he rubs his eyes. and stumbles back to bed.

Pumped full of fear, it’s damn near impossible for Gray to go back to sleep quickly. So he does what he always does and picks up his phone, hits the Word app on the screen, and starts typing away. It’s his way of processing the fear and the pain that he so often hides. Yet as seen in his website of blog posts, books, and poetry; he often gives out too much information. Or at least that’s what his family and his demons tell him. Tonight’s dream was about watching his grandpa Joe slowly die, with one heart issue after another, 1970’s medicine could only do so much other then confine him to bed.

But deep inside Grayson carried memories of grandfather who would take him fishing at the salt marshes just off US 17, where a family friend from the projects now lived. Riding down Dean Forest Road in grandpa’s shiny new 1967 AMC Ambassador, Grayson would sit tall in the front sent while his grandpa hit the turn at Dead Man’s Curve then turn right on Silk Hope Road to where “Aunt Lillian” lived on Salt Creek.

They’d fish most of the morning, catching blue crab or whatever else they could hook. They’d often have lunch with Aunt Lillian then head back home to Bloomingdale with the days catch for Granny to fix. Those memories are quiet fuzzy now for Gray, but it’s does memories he holds dearest. Especially now that he sees a lot of himself in his grandpa and his physical condition. Holding on tight to the memory of that vibrant old man and not the shell that Grandpa eventually become.

Raised two blocks away from his grandparents, Grayson’s young mother Missy was just 16 years old when she give birth to him. His father Grayson Sr. was 12 years older than his mother but was still in his late 20’s when Gray was born. With the birth of a sister and later a brother, Grayson was never a bully of a big brother. I mean his sister DeeDee could dish out whatever he could give. But his baby brother Martin would follow him around like a surrogate father, considering their dad lived at work more then he lived at home.

But it was the 1970’s and things were a lot different than they were in the idolized 1960’s. Gray remembers all too well the oil embargo of the early 70’s and the struggles with high gas and food prices. He watched firsthand his parents struggle and fuss about bills and spending. He also remember the spot where’d they’d often make up embracing in front of the stove. He remembered the locked bedroom door and how his siblings would cry at the door. While getting hollered at by his father to take them two outside. A smile crosses his face now while thinking about those times knowing all too well what was really going on.

Grayson’s high school years were typical late-70’s early-80’s suburban teen. The two things that made Gray’s teen years atypical were his grandpa’s health issues and his families fanatical embrace of the early Evangelical movement, known as the Pentecostal movement of the 1970’s. Apparently torn between heaven and hell, Gray remembered going to church at the local Southern Baptist Church as a kid. But it was his mother’s restlessness and curiosity with spirituality that took her from the Baptist faith to a more literal interpretation of “God’s Word”. Naturally Gray and his siblings were dragged to every Pentecostal camp meeting and tent revival in the coastal empire.

At first it all seemed like a show, with all the congregation dancing and “speaking in tongues”. But in hindsight the emotional release was quite the aphrodisiac for a lonely hungry people looking for truth. But just as any impressionable young person, Gray got caught up in all the “hoopla” as it were. Spending most his waking moments worried if he was good enough to go to heaven or was simply headed straight to hell. Needless to say, this left an enormous impression on Grayson's psyche. Walking between sainthood and applying for an apprenticeship with the devil. Many years later left a bitter taste in Gray’s mouth. Which were the birth pains to the mental anguish he experiences today.

In his grandpa’s world he to had been on a spiritual journey himself practicing the old folk magic practiced by his mother and his family. After the war and the boom of the 1950’s and 60’s many of the rifts between my grandfather and his family begin to heal. With the passing of Joe’s father and later his mother, the siblings united around the old homestead. Leading to many family reunions and many funerals at the family plot at Red Hill Cemetery outside Lothair, GA. After grandpa’s retirement from the papermill he and Granny spent lots of time at the old place in Lothair, two of Joe’s siblings, a siblings lived on either side of the old home place. At the time of their father’s death the house and the land went to my grandfather since he was the oldest. But without a thought Gray’s grandfather divided the property evenly amongst his siblings with him taking the plot the old house sat on.

Gray didn’t quite understand some of his grandpa’s strange practices like keeping a straw broom hanging over the door. Or using blue paint on the porch but never the rest of the house. The little caskets his grandfather made and kept in his workshop with little dolls underside. Or the strange painting he kept on his study wall that Grey now knows was painting of a human chakra. But all this changed after his grandpa succumb to his heart issues and eventual slow death. The very thing that haunts Grey this very night.

]]><![CDATA[Chapter 8: Moving On]]>Sat, 07 Sep 2024 16:12:49 GMThttps://www.fdthornton.com/never-gone/chapter-8-moving-on

Image: Artem Horovenko

Despite the security of Bernard’s state park job and Suzanne’s growing internet fame. They both knew it was all fleeting without a permanent place to call home. The State’s Parks Authority was willing to overlook the many violations that were being broken by their extended stay on the park grounds. But the country was in the middle of a pandemic and having a fulltime employee on the grounds was at the time an asset. But now that the park up and fully operational again. There were rumors that the SPA and the state’s environmental regulators were ready for the family and the Airstream to move on.

It's not that the was willing to fire a long time employee, but they were applying the pressure for the family to move. So to avoid being formally evicted and possibly losing their main source of income the Case family moved their Airstream into a nearby trailer park. Forcing Bernard to commute to work, while Suzanne and the kids lost their little garden paradise. With the two oldest kids going to primary and pre-k school, it now meant riding the bus, such Benard needed the truck for his commute. It also meant getting used to a whole new set of neighbors. With the youngest still too young for school, daycare was out of the question due to the cost. So Suzanne kept to herself while continuing to post content and take care of the little one.

But the trailer park wasn’t without its distractions, first there was the trailer park hierarchy of drug dealers , gang members, the old, the sick, and the worker poor. It wasn’t nothing to see an ambulance and load of police cruisers every night and especially on the weekends. Plus having them all crammed into the Airstream wasn’t any fun either. Although they were out at the park as much as they could, still at night you lived in fear that one day a stray bullet wound come flying in. the one small ray of light was the one neighbor a few trailers down Annette who had two young children with her boyfriend Ned.

Annette much like Suzanne was white trash poor born in a nearby town. Her and Suzanne would often sit on the trailer steps drink coffee and watch the kids play in the dirt. There they would talk about their lives and their situations and how they ended up here. Suzanne being a bit cautious, letting Annette do most of the talking, because she sounded like she really needed a friend. Everything was good till Ned showed up from wherever he showed up. In a ratty ball cap greasy t-shirt and jeans, he’d simply pull up practically stomp into the trailer and yell for Annette to get him a beer and fix him a plate. A few months have passed and was the usual routine Ned would drive up and holler for his beer.

After a typical weekend of police calls and screaming matches between couples. Suzanne noticed Annette or the kids weren’t around. She also noticed Ned’s pickup was gone as well. After a few days the landlord was making the rounds for the rent, rather weekly, bi-weekly, or monthly she as out like clockwork. As Suzanne and the baby awoke from a nap, she noticed the police and an ambulance parked over at Annette’s trailer with the landlord looking distraught talking to the police. Apparently Ned got especially violent one night over the weekend and killed Annette, leaving her body in the trailer and taking the kids. It was alter learning he dropped off the kids with a relative in Florida and was caught in Daytona passed out drunk in his truck.

After a few weeks the tragedy that made headlines and had long faded from the regional TV news and newspapers. The landlord had the crime scene quickly cleaned and rented out again. No one in the park spoke of the tragedy out loud, only in hushed whispers. The police did step up patrols and busted some of worse of the worse in the park. But nothing really changed. Annette and children’s things were picked through after being dumped in the dumpsters. With nothing ever mentioned of her kids again. But as Suzanne pulled a wagon full of trash to the dumpster, she noticed a small shiny object on the ground near a dumpster. As Suzanne bent over for a closer look, she discovered it was a broken silver locket that Annette once wore with a picture of her girls inside. Suzanne quickly put the locket in her pocket and moved on.

]]><![CDATA[Part Seven: Oak Street]]>Sun, 01 Sep 2024 23:35:56 GMThttps://www.fdthornton.com/never-gone/part-seven-oak-street

After a long dusty 3 hour drive Joseph and Dottie arrive in Savannah, they were hot tried and a little bit afraid. Dottie had never seen a city any larger than Soperton before, other than pictures in magazines. But unlike the skyscrapers of New York City, Savannah was a busy port city with its oak lined streets thick with hanging Spanish moss. When they planned their escape they heard of a boarding house on Jones Street that welcomed farmers coming into the city to find work. Once they settled in Joe quickly discovered his 1931 Model A truck was a handy tool for finding quick work around town. While Dottie found work sewing and doing odd jobs at the boarding house.

It wasn’t long before Joe found work at the ports loading cotton, timber, and turpentine onto ships. It was there that word started getting out about the government getting ready to build “Liberty Ships” in Savannah and Brunswick and many other ports for the fledgling war effort. Joe quickly got a job at the shipyard down from the ports on President Street. Working alongside hundreds of others in the same situation as millions of other Americans trying to feed their families. Joe found himself working alongside other farmers, out of work construction workers, and even minorities. Starting out as a Rivet Cooker, Joe worked in the ground heating the rivets to wield the steel to the ships frame. Once heated up Joe would throw the hot rivets up to the Catchers, who in turn handed them off to the Riveters. It was dangerous work all around with many bearing the burn marks to prove it.

There he worked with one Black man in particular named Peterson Louis. Pete as he was known was of Haitian decent with a French/English accent much thicker than even Joe’s own hillbilly draw. Blacks and unskilled poor whites were relegated to the lowest and most dangerous jobs. So after a few weeks on the job, Joe and Pete formed a bond working in a synchronized rhythm or cadence. This made them a particularly effective cookers for the Riveters putting the ships together. As they continued to work together the two man discovered they had a lot in common. Including having wives that were raising their young children. They both had mothers that practiced folk medicine and magic, and they both wanted a better life then their sharecropping roots.

It was at this time when Dottie started coming out of her shell. With no outside schooling, Dottie could barely read. But with Joe now bring in a steady income, it gave Dottie the chance to teach herself to read. With a daily newspaper and various magazines laying around the boarding house; Dottie wasn’t shy about asking anyone what a word she didn’t understand. And soon she was able to read and write, to the point she was able to send letters back home to her beloved cousin and Pastor Stephens. Creating for herself a lifelong love of reading, learning, and storytelling. It was also during these years their little family began to grow with one boy, then another, and another. But it wasn’t until the end of the war that they finally had a little girl. A tall lanky little dark haired girl who would grow up to be my mother.

During the war the family moved from the boarding house to an upstairs apartment on Broughton Street. Then into a WPA housing project built during the Great Depression on the east side of Savannah. It was there that the kids grew up through the late 1940’s and into the 1950’s. Their house soon became the Grand Central Station of the neighborhood. With Joe, Jr’s gang of friends leaning under the hood of his old Hudson, while his brother Harold was hanging out somewhere with his latest girlfriend. And young Gabe, ever the outdoors man, spent hours exploring the nearby marshes and old civil war ruins. While Michelle “Missy” and her gang of Puddle Skirt wearing friends were either pretending to her mother or in her bedroom listening to that nerve wracking rock-n-roll. Of course this left Dottie to referee all the fights or manage all the gossip going on throughout the house. While Joe worked every waking hour at the local paper mill on the Westside of town after the war.

In the late fifties Joesph, Dottie, and the crew moved again only this time buying their first home on the rural west end of Chatham County. The community was nothing more than a whistle stop for the Georgia Central Railroad called Bloomingdale. On the end of Oak Street lay a tract of five wood framed houses built on concrete pillows during the 1940’s. Each house looked the same on the inside with small deviations on the outside. They each had three bedrooms, a kitchen dinette, a small living room, and one bathroom. With now two teenage boys sharing a bedroom while “Missy” had a bedroom of her own. The oldest brother Joseph, Jr. had recently joined the Air Force before the family moved.

Moving from the crowded low income community on the Eastside of Savannah, to woods on the other side of the county was a bit of a culture shock for the young teens. But for Joe and Dottie it was almost like going back home with room for a garden and the peacefulness of a quiet suburban community. As the early sixties came to light Bloomingdale had grown from a whistlestop for the railroad; into a modern community with a department store, with a couple full-service gas stations and even its own to Post Office. Still for decades to come Bloomingdale was nothing more than an afterthought for most Savannahians and the rest of Chatham County. But it turned into a thriving simple suburban paradise for thousands of locals the paper mills and other manufacturers employed. With it’s dirt streets and plenty of woods to explore these factory workers children played endless hours on those dirt streets…till the porch lights came on.

The Joe and Dottie Higgins family lived next door to a young couple the Barnes, who had recently moved there from rural Wayne County. Wendell and Lucy Barnes had only moved to Bloomingdale several months before Joe and Dottie. Much like the Higgins, the Barnes’ were looking for a better life for themselves and their two small children, Carol and James. Lucy’s brother () had moved to Savannah several years before and it was his stories of the opportunities there that inspired his younger sister and brother-in-law to move. And it wasn’t long before Wendell was working at a local manufacturing plant, making enough money to buy their home on Oak Street. So with an extra bedroom available the young couple invited her quiet bachelor brother Grayson to move from the boarding house into their home.

It was there that my mother and father became neighbors on Oak Street...

]]><![CDATA[Part Six: Old Airstream]]>Sat, 24 Aug 2024 14:03:01 GMThttps://www.fdthornton.com/never-gone/part-six-old-airstream

Old Airstream

Awaken again by fever dreams of ghosts from the past and things unknown, Suzanne gets up from out of her bed. She quickly gets dressed knowing that in a few minutes the three little ones will be up demanding her attention. The tiny trailer they call home is parked in a secluded area of Table Rock State Park in northwestern South Carolina along the edge of the Great Smokey Mountains. Suzanne found herself here several years ago after being thrown out of the only home she had ever known in Georgia. Her intention at the time was to head to the mountains of North Carolina to camp out and find her bearings again. But car trouble left her abandoned at this state park. So she camped out there till she could find work to pay for the repairs and then move on.

But what she thought would be a few weeks stay turned into years. After falling in love and giving birth to three doorstep children. Her husband Bernard has worked at the park for years as the maintenance man and jack-of-all-trades. Where Suzanne raised the kids, tended her garden, and sustained their little slice of heaven. Suzanna met Benard soon after she started her little “homesteading project” to get the car fixed at the park. It didn’t take long before Benard and the other park employees and volunteers figured she wasn’t going anywhere fast. But due to her gentle nature and radiant smile they all fell in love with the little hippie child from Georgia, especially Bernard. Soon their little romance soon became the worst kept secret in the park. The volunteers and the regular seasonal campers all kept a running tally of their young love as it blossomed over the spring and summer.

As Bernard and Suzanne’s romance grew beyond the summer and into fall. Suzanne had moved into Bernard’s old Airstream camper. Although Suzanne’s had long since been repaired, she felt with all her heart she had finally found a home with Bernard. So she continues working odd jobs in and around the park. Doing everything from running errands for older campers, to chopping firewood for those that really couldn’t, to helping Bernard and the park crew clear hiking trails that had overgrown. As the months and years passed Suzanne made a home in that old Airstream nestled in the pine hills of that old flat rock. As often the case with love, Suzanne eventually give birth the three doorstep kids one right after another. Benard and Suzanne never had siblings of their own but come from large distant families. So in their youth and enthusiasm they decided to make a large family of their own.

But as you can imagine the reality of raising and clothing three growing little kids was hard, and money was tight. A state employees salary might have its benefits, but the pay is never enough. While their home life was manageable, Suzanne had to have major surgery after the birth of their youngest child. Leaving Bernard a small group of friends to help care for the young ones. That and the added debt of aftercare took this young family to places they dare not wanted to be. After Suzanne’s long eventual recovery, she knew that somehow, some way she needed to step up and help her family financially even more.

So Suzanne’s mind turned to the potions and folk magic her grandmother taught her. And how those potions and spells brought a little extra money into their household. So during the isolation of the pandemic, Suzanne pooled together all her knowledge and resources to create a social media page where she told stories of going up in the sandy foothills of Central Georgia. With tall tales of haunts and ghosts, of the black panthers that secretly roamed the woods and hollers. Along with simple potions one can make for scratches, wounds, and bug bites. Along with tutorials on canning and managing a small backyard garden. On various platforms her post took off captivating a wide audience. Soon she was publishing booklets of home remedies and appearing on a number of other like-minded individuals podcast and websites. Her slow southern draw and the fact that she was an absolute beauty didn’t hurt either. Only added to her viewership and eventually bringing in much needed cash for her family. All from the inside of that old Airstream. But hard times would eventually come again, leaving Suzanne and Bernard to have to make some tough decisions about their families future…

]]><![CDATA[Never Gone Part Five - Quickly Drove Away]]>Fri, 16 Aug 2024 13:29:26 GMThttps://www.fdthornton.com/never-gone/never-gone-part-five-quickly-drove-away

Running a farm is a huge burden to place on a young man. It’s an even harder when all the work you’ve done goes unappreciated when you father returns from the war. During the years when Ernest was overseas, it was left up to Ernest’s elderly father to take up the slack of maintaining the farm. But given that Ernest’s father Hud was old and given to bouts with shine. It was up to his wife and the grandkid to do most of the chores. Since Joesph was the oldest grandchild it naturally fell on him to do most of the hard work. From hatching up the mules, to plowing the fields, along with helping his younger siblings with their farm chores. Joe’s Grandma did her best to take care of the household chores along with the girls. While their mother Maggie Mae was more concerned with conjuring up spells and selling shine for her kin, then helping out her own children and her husband’s pitiful sharecropper kin. Besides they had her boy Joe to take care of things.

But with the armistice signed it was only a matter of time till the first of the battle scared Yanks would return home. And so it was when Corporal Ernest Higgins returned in Fall of 1919. By the time Ernest made his way home the tobacco harvest was already finishing. Still Ernest had never completely recovered from his time in the war, and it wasn’t long before he fell to the temptations that overcame his own father. His wife Maggie Mae also never completely forgave him for abandoning her. So their endless fighting and bickering only made it worse. But as dictated by the laws of the time, Ernest was still head of the house. So while a share of the profits made from the harvest was to go to the landowner and other debtors. What money that left over went to feed the appetites of Ernest and Maggie Mae first. So as the 1920’s turned into the Great Depression Joe and his brothers and his sisters became nothing more than hired help for their father and mother’s ambitions and greed, leaving Joe stuck obligated to care of his siblings.

But life wasn’t without it’s small glamour’s of hope. Because just a few farms down was the beautiful auburn haired daughter of the Coward family. Joe had taken a shine to Dorothy or Dottie as she was known, ever since he first saw her at a revival meeting at the nearby Baptist Church. While Joe only got to attend school till his father went to war. Dottie had no such option since they were needed to help tend to the farm after her father abandoned the family. Still in her dirty clothes she was a thing of beauty. So as the years went by Dottie and Joe meet up ever chance they could. But with the demands of running the farm on Joe and Dottie’s mother’s determination to marry her off to a rich family, often kept them apart. They attempted to start a formal courtship, but both families had their own reasons for keeping them apart. So they would secretly meet along the creek bed where the spring bubbled up from the ground.

As the lasting effects of the Great Depression lingered over rural America, the passions of young love only grow stronger between Ernest and Dottie. Wanting to start a life of their own, but they were practically forbidden to do so. So they planned, and they schemed in order to make their escape from the realities in which they lived. Impatient and fighting the clock till Dottie was eventually married off, they saw no other choice but to run away and elope. Late one Saturday afternoon, Joe told his father he was going into town to meet up with some friends. In a drunken stupor his father waved him off then Joe headed to town. At the same time Dottie asked her mother if she could spend the night at her cousin’s several miles away. Dottie’s cousin knew of her and Joe’s plans, while Joe’s family had no clue. So when Joe arrived at her cousins house, they quickly loaded Dottie’s suitcase and drove away.

But before they left the county they had one more stop to make. Pastor Stephens’ and his Mrs. Katie lived near the creek down by the spring down from the Baptist church. Through happenstance pastor Stephens got to know Joe and Dottie well. It seems while the pastor would often go fishing down by the creek, he often notice a young couple alone down by the spring. Curious soon the pastor introduced himself to the couple, where he soon learned of their tragic story. So pastor Stephens considered his own feelings about true love. He considered it an honor to be asked to formally/informally marry the couple down by the spring. Once the small ceremony was over, hugs and good byes were given and the young couple quickly drove away…

]]><![CDATA[Never Gone: Part Four - Memories]]>Mon, 12 Aug 2024 14:57:17 GMThttps://www.fdthornton.com/never-gone/never-gone-part-four-memories

It’s an overcast day the and still Gray is sweating profusely from the hoeing he was doing around the garden. With sweat running down his arms and onto the hoe handle, his garden gloves are soaked. The heat and humidity of the summer, along with the spring rains mold and the blight affected most of his crops this year. A far cry from the days when he worked in his father’s backyard garden at their suburban home outside Savannah. But Gray’s Dad, a child of the Great Depression like most of their neighbors still kept “victory gardens” just as they did when they were kids. Gray laughed at himself just a little, wiping the sweat from his brow. Thinking about how many times he cursed under his breath when working the old man’s garden. Peggy called from the front porch for Grayson to come inside before it got too hot and to take his medicine. Without an argument Gray climbed the porch steps, put aside his hoe took off his shoes and stepped inside.

Inside his office he carefully lays out each pill he has to take. . Like a morning ritual each pill lined up according to size and shape. After he takes his pills, he turns on his computer and lights a scented candle and begins writing. A far cry from laborer, contractor, correctional officer, and systems analyst he once was. Gray now pursues his first passion writing. A pursuit that began by watching his Grandpa Higgins spending most of his free time in his own office reading and writing. As a moderately successful independent blogger, poet, and storyteller. Gray has never considered himself anything more than a hack. But the books he has self-published and the stories he has told bring pleasure to those who have taken the time to read them. Along with his own disabilities, Gray is a caregiver to his wife Peg, who suffered a earlier illness that caused physical and cognitive damage. While the burden of dealing with his own health issues is bad enough. There is a silver lining to it all, his disability allows him more time to care for Peggy and pursue his passions.

Staring at that blinking curser is often an intimidating thing. Some days it’s a total struggle while on other’s the words flow like sift river current. Today is one of those struggling days, with his mind racing through moments of the past. Thinking about things like his parents and the family he lost so long ago. Other than parents and grandparents, Gray’s seen the deaths of aunts, uncles, and even cousins over the years. After a while of staring at the dark screen, Gray decides to take a break and rest his back. Stretched out on the bed Grey takes a moment to check his emails and messages on his phone. After deleting most of the emails, he checks his social media pages where he promotes his stories and interacts with his fans. No social media Gray also follows a number of likeminded “struggling artist” on various platforms to help with his relative isolation.

One of the newer artisans he follows is a young woman named Suzanne who lives in the Carolinas. Besides being cute as a button, she spins tales of folk magic and growing up with a grandmother that practiced old natural folk magic and made potions. The attraction to her was nearly instantaneous as Grey started following her account, he began to notice a familiarity about her story. Rather it was her old wives tales similar to the ones he heard all his life. Or just the fact that she was a young married woman struggling with a young family just as he and Peg did. There was something about her story clicked inside Grey’s taking him back to the tales of his own family in those sandy foothills of South Central Georgia.

]]><![CDATA[Never Gone: Part Three - Suzanne]]>Mon, 05 Aug 2024 22:08:05 GMThttps://www.fdthornton.com/never-gone/never-gone-part-three-suzanne

Never far from her Granny, a young Suzanne scurried about the creek bed picking up all kinds of little shiny little things and putting them in her knapsack. Within it she collected all manner of rocks, twigs, and flowers to show her grandmother and hopefully get her to a story about them. Suzanne a slight little girl with curly bright auburn hair wearing a hand-me-down clothes from the local charity. Abandoned by her mother nearly from birth, she had a curiosity and maturity few her young age processed. While most girls her age were just learning their numbers and the alphabet, Suzanne was already reading and often helped her grandma work up spells and create potions for those in need.

Estell Grant wasn’t always so old or granny-like, raising a brood of her own back in the 1960’s and 1970’s. Her children were more interested in leaving the foothills of south Central Georgia then ever learning Mom’s “old folk ways”. Estell wasn’t always the nicest momma to be around, she was a task master who believed in strict discipline and hard work. Long abandoned by her husband, Estell clung to her children praying that hard work and even tougher love would keep straight and near home. Unfortunately it seemed the opposite effect, as one by one they left the impoverished foothills for the promise of a better life elsewhere…all except Gracie.

Gracie was the result of a momentary lapse of judgement, according to Estell. When one day her estranged husband’s came home, with promises that he had changed. So Gracie was conceived, and once again he quickly scampered away. Unlike her other siblings Gracie was a free spirit that often delighted in helping her mother Estell. But as Gracie grew she grew into a beautiful young teenager with plenty of young man a calling. Not only was she a free spirit but she grew into a bit of a rebel against momma’s rules. It wasn’t long after her 16th birthday Gracie got pregnant and nine months later gave birth to Suzanne. But just like it is with most young girls months of the time, opportunities for a young poor country girl were limited. So Gracie found a steady boyfriend with a decent job. But tragically after a Saturday of partying with friends, Gracie and her boyfriend were killed in a drunk driving accident. Now in her 60’s, Estell was left all alone with another small child to raise.

Suzanne grew up quickly, a little too quickly Estell thought. But throughout school she was a gifted student, full of curiosity and with a never ending supply of friends. After graduation, Suzanne stayed close to home to take care of her aging Granny, unlike her aunts and uncles who took full advantage of Suzanne’s love for her grandmother. It was the mid-2000’s and the Great Recession was in full swing. Most of her friends had moved on to college or better work in Macon or Atlanta. Luckily enough Suzanne secured herself a job at a local convenience store, quickly moving her was up to assistant manager. But because of her beauty, fair skin, and curly auburn hair; she was still one of the most popular gals in town. Every logger and log truck driver stopped by her store every morning coffee or energy drink, just to flirt and get a smile. While the temptations were plenty she didn’t allow herself the pleasure, not as long as her grandmother needed her. Tragically Estell passed away, and it wasn’t long before her children and their grandchildren were there to pick over her carcass like a band of vultures. When the dust settled and no will was to be found. Suzanne was left with a small share of the land’s value, along with the rest of the grandkids Estell hardly ever seen. So after a few months the house and property were sold, and Suzanne had to leave the only home she’d ever known.

]]><![CDATA[Part Two: Feel their Respect]]>Thu, 01 Aug 2024 19:59:40 GMThttps://www.fdthornton.com/never-gone/part-one-feel-their-respect

On a hot and humid Wednesday morning Grayson Walker starts his day as he usually does in front of a keyboard with a lite candle. After a shower and a myriad of prescription medications and other natural remedies. His head finally begins to clear of the vivid dreams that have kept him awake the last several nights. But despite his poor physical health stemming from heart failure brought on by stress, smoking, and obesity. Grayson also suffers from health anxiety, bouts of PTSD, and Chronic Depression. Still Gray’s doctors tell him he’s doing okay because he followed their advice to quit smoking and changing his diet. But even with all that good news, it offers very little comfort to his damaged soul.

Grayson and his young family moved to the piedmont area of Georgia from Savannah in the early 1990’s. To escape the struggles early struggles they had, including stalled career opportunities. Not satisfied with themselves or the path they were taking, Grey and his wife Pam made the insane decision to move from everything that was familiar to an area they only heard about in old family tales. To live in a rural part of the state where his mother’s family was from originally, in and around the counties of Treutlen, Wheeler, and Montgomery

The first few years were a bit of a culture shock, even though they were only 125 miles from where they begin. But in the early 1990’s the slow pace and the isolation were often too much. But the children took to it like ducks to water, unlike their often shunned “out-of-town” parents. But soon they both found work and with the much lower cost of living decent shelter in which to live. All the things Grey’s dad tried to teach him, but often complained he was either too slow or too dumb to do, come back to him. But with the help of his uncles that lived in the area, Grey became skilled at simple home repairs. Often helping his Uncle Gabe with small construction jobs in the area.

But Grayson was still unsatisfied with what he was doing, he know he could do better. So for several years Gray went back to school. First trade school then to a four-year college. But nothing came easy to Gray due to the verbal abuse he remembered from his father and neighborhood bullies. Even as he grew older the ghost of their voices can still be heard. He felt like he was marked at a young age by a community of bullies and name callers he grew up near. But here Gray and his family were given a second chance. For those that didn’t know them, they were a blank slate. To his family he was simply “Missy’s” son. While he may have still been “Junior” to his uncles, aunts, and cousins; and “June Bug” to his beloved Grandma. At least he could feel their respect… so he keeps typing.

]]><![CDATA[The Prequel]]>Thu, 01 Aug 2024 19:48:41 GMThttps://www.fdthornton.com/never-gone/august-01st-2024

Born out of necessity the ancient people for the foothills of south central Georgia used what they had to make their way. Along with growing their own food and making their own shelter, these early settlers used skills they brought with them from Europe and skills they learned from local native people. My grandfather was no different growing up at the feet of his mother and grandmother, his family were sharecroppers working the ground of the landowners for a share of the crop. But it wasn’t easy at the time with most young men drafted to fight in the great world war. Which left the planting and the harvesting to the old men, the wives, and the children.

After the war things got better, but the bitterness carried by some left behind put a heavy weight on the families, especially the children. Joseph Higgins my grandfather was the oldest of five children born to my great-grandparents before the war. With his father gone he was as left to tend to the mule and help his grandfather plow the acreage allotted his parents and grandparents. His younger siblings did other household chores, including tending to the animals, helping at harvest, and tending to the garden. Their mother, to my understanding, wasn’t fond of farm life. Raised in the low laying swamps along the river, her family were of the more leisurely kind making corn whiskey and selling potions.

Joe’s grandparents were tolerant of their daughters-in-law less than hardworking ways due to the extra money her potions brought in. That and along with the spirits her family made that seemed to help Grandpa’s gout. But once Hud, Joe’s father came home things appeared to improve. First they took the money he made while in the war and brought their own plot of land. But as with most good things wanderlust began to settled in. So Maggie Mae, Joe’s mother, continued remembering the promises Hud made to her years ago when courting. So the dull routine of farm life and motherhood started wearing thin on her.

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