Strom Thurmond’s biracial daughter has died

It takes a special kind of person to father a black child and then go on to become a very successful professional bigot, but the South was filled with them back in the day. Essie Mae Washington Williams, daughter of late South Carolina Sen. Strom Thurmond, has died.  Thurmond who spent much of his long political career as an arch-segregationist, never publicly acknowledged his “other” daughter’s existence during his lifetime.  Thurmond, who even ran as a third-party Dixiecrat in 1948 to combat President Harry S. Truman’s liberal policies, is regarded as one of the founding fathers of the South’s modern-day GOP.  He died in 2003 at the age of 100. I saw Strom Thurmond once, in the summer of 2001. I was with…

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Bad weather and Trouble comes calling

Yesterday’s weather was horrific for a lot of folks around here, including my brother-in-law Steve and his family. My niece’s house in Gordon County was damaged by high winds (tornado) and the power is out all over the place up around Adairsville and Calhoun. Our thoughts are with all those who are suffering. We had our own close call.  You see, Trouble came to visit our house late last night.  For those of you who haven’t read Brambleman, Trouble is a myseterious fellow “not from around here” who has a strange affinity for lightning. I’d just gone to bed, and I was looking out the window when I saw a flash of light across the sky. An instant later, the electrical feed to the house,…

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“I was there” in Forsyth County march

Hosea Williams’ 1987 Forsyth County March: My name is Ronnie Johnson and I was there 26 years ago.  We left from the Martin L. King Center on a Bus.  Little did I know there was no food or water.  Neither did I know I was Diabetic, yet I made the long walk.  I was there!  It amazed me to see not all the whites in Forsyth agreed with the racism that was being displayed against the walkers.  I looked to my left and there was a white family, father, wife and child waving with a smile on their faces.  I was there!  We were told not to buy or eat or drink anything in Forsyth.  Not all walkers followed our instructions.  I…

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“One of the most surprising books I’ve read in a long time!”

Review of Brambleman by Amazon.com reviewer Thinfilm: “Thank goodness I don’t work in a library or any other job that requires categorizing books….because I wouldn’t have the faintest idea where to place this one. Social history? Mystery? Supernatural and the Occult?…or even Humour? Mr Grant takes us on an amazing journey in time to teach us something about some very disturbing chaqpters in American history, in a most engaging, weird and sometimes funny way. His style is light and flowing and even though the book is long it never seems to get cumbersome or heavy slogging. The characters are exaggerated almost to the point of being unbelievable… “almost” but never “quite” (…well, maybe Trouble is a bit far-fetched but he adds a…

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GOP state senator sponsors resolution expressing remorse for slavery

Similar measures have been introduced in the Georgia General Assembly before, but none have passed.  Senate Resolution 28, sponsored by Sen. Barry Loudermilk (R-Cassville) and others, stops short of apologizing for slavery. According to an article in the Atlanta Journal Constituion, “Loudermilk believes it’s not realistic for the current Legislature to apologize for acts of past lawmakers.” Here’s the text of the resolution, which notes the colony of Georgia’s orginal ban on slavery (that didn’t last long. In fact, Savannah was built by slaves before the official ban was lifted in 1751). By: Senators Loudermilk of the 14th, Ligon, Jr. of the 3rd, Heath of the 31st, Crane of the 28th, Hill of the 32nd and others A RESOLUTION Expressing remorse for the state’s past…

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Brambleman’s story begins on Dec. 26

The eReader version is only 99 cents! Chapter One In the silence between the clatter of dishes and the waitress’s barked order, Charlie Sherman heard himself dripping. He counted tiny splashes on the laminated menu: one, two, three. Waving to get the server’s attention accelerated the patter. Interesting. It was late on the night after Christmas, and less than an hour before, Charlie had been a semi-respectable stay-at-home suburban father, failing novelist, and not-so-loving husband. Now he was homeless, and he looked the part, in a torn blue nylon bomber jacket, tattered beige Henley shirt, paint-spattered gray sweat pants, and holey black basketball shoes. To top off his grungy appearance, he wore basketball goggles—a necessity after he’d broken his tortoise-shell frames during a…

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