I can tell y'all about my love of southern literature...my collection of family china and sterling silver...even my cherished, cast iron Dutch oven that is over 125 years old and perfectly seasoned, handed down from my Memaw and proud Bertrand women before her. Grits, sweet tea, cotton fields, warm breezes that momentarily offer a reprieve from the blistering heat and humidity, bluegrass tunes, peach orchards, Brunswick stew, the Bulldogs, boiled peanuts, Warner Robins Air Force Base, and a pride in my home state that envelopes my core being, causing tears to well behind my eyes before I can chide myself for acting so silly.
Yes, y'all. I am southern. I am Georgian. I am thankful God planted my feet below the Mason-Dixon line. I'm proud to be American and I love every part of this country. Oh yes, I do. But as Ray Charles sang it best, "...still in peaceful dreams I see, the road leads back to you..." Georgia is always on my mind.
Thus, it is with great pleasure I introduce y'all to the town of Dublin, Georgia, less than an hour from my place of origin, Warner Robins. (Hey Middle Georgia--love y'all!)
No one ever said we Georgians aren't philanthropic. And we're "purty," too.