Thank you for this piece, Janisse. It brought back a flood of memories. My parents took us to Sapelo two times while we were growing up in the early 2000’s. My mom had read about Sapelo in a newspaper article, and after some digging she was able to reserve us a place to stay in Hog Hammock. I remember going there for our spring break when all my friends were going to Panama City or Disney. I couldn’t figure out why we had to go to an island I had never heard of.
When we arrived, the friendly folks hosting us in Hog Hammock welcomed us with a homemade meal of fried fish and cooked cabbage. My father still talks about how that was the best cabbage he’s ever eaten. Mama let us kids drink coke with dinner, and I remember going to bed that night feeling like this was a special place.
Over the next few days, we rode our bikes all over the island. We saw a wild boar, more alligators than I ever imagined, a family of armadillos with four babies in tow (a longer story which I have shared with my preschool students more times than I can count), a wake of buzzards, and these are just the ones my memory firmly remembers.
What I remember most from our two visits to Sapelo though is the indelible sense of deep beauty present there. Beauty of the land, the sea, the people, the more-than-human beings, and the community of life on that island. That sense of beauty marked my soul as an 11 year old kid, and I remain grateful. Thank you for the reminder.
This was powerful for me because I have walked on that ferry bridge and walked on those sandy roads and watched as dolphins swam up into the guts to snack on crabs and sat in Hog Hammock homes listening to the stories, eating the food, and learning to weave a sweetgrass basket. The memories are bittersweet, especially after reading this, because too many of the souls I met then have passed on as well.
Beautiful article! I’ve never been to Sapelo but would love to go. There’s something truly mystical about the barrier islands of Georgia . I think back to a childhood trip to Blackbeard. There’s something elemental to the soul in those places.
Janisse, I spent several happy days on Sapelo helping set up the library there. The people were so welcoming and friendly. One of the older ladies would come every day and stand outside the window. We invited her in, but she wanted to wait until everyone could come in. If I remember correctly, her name was Miss Winnie. Went back for the grand opening and then my husband and I spent a day exploring the island. A special place. So glad to see that someone is helping the folks who have lived there all of their lives. I hate to see new developments come in and tax the people out of their homes. Thanks again for helping keep us aware of issues that affect us all. On another note, I was fortunate to win a painting from the Altama Gallery that Raven had donated for a fundraiser. I have it framed and hanging at our pecan orchard in Appling County. It brings me joy when I look at it. Please give Mama a hug for me.
What a lovely tribute to Mr. Dixon and Sapelo Island. I am so glad the island is protected, and grateful you were able to take your sharp eye and ready pen when you visited so you could share it with us. Thank you!
Cassandra, the guide stopped and picked some leaves he called prickly ash. I was talking and wasn't paying attention to the plant. He had us each chew a leaf and said it was used by the local people for toothache. I thought of you.
I had the privilege of staying in Hog Hammock a number of times in the mid to late 80’s, on the property of the late Cornelia Walker Bailey. She and her husband, Frank, were eager to ensure my friend and my dog, Maddie, and I had everything we needed in the immaculate mobile home adjacent to the little store that supplied most of Hog Hammock with ice cold beverages from an old Coca-Cola cooler -- the type that opened from the top and had two compartments. One door slid to the right, the other to the left. We broke bread with Cornelia and Frank and one Labor Day weekend, Frank cooked ribs in their back yard, on a sheet of metal he’d placed over hot coals. He gently covered them with a special sauce by sopping up the sauce in a small mop head and carefully dabbing the ribs while they sizzled...the first time I’d seen this technique. All I can tell you is that those were the best ribs I’ve ever tasted. Crunchy pieces of fat on the outside and moist and tender down to the bone. I had hoped to go back and see Cornelia before she passed but like many plans, they gave way to my busy life in Atlanta where I lived at the time.
I’ve resided in Fannin County for 23 years now and live within walking distance of Loving Road and New Hope Church and Cemetery. As I read your book about Morganton and the Loving Community, I could see many of the locations you described in my mind. I followed the trips on foot through Hemptown and felt I had a general idea of the motel and old store locations. Nevertheless, we had a small gathering at the Fannin County Library some months ago, to review slides, photographs and newspaper articles about the Woods family, and listen to a local historian tell of her interpretations of some of your anecdotes. As cruel as it may seem, when someone asked the historian what ever happened to Ruby, the crowd was not at all sad to hear of her death from cancer. Each of us felt such deep compassion for those children. It’s a true testament to the strength (especially in numbers) of sibling love and unbelievable resilience, that any of those children were able to have productive lives free of alcohol abuse, drug addiction, prostitution or worse.
I hope you and Raven continue to explore the coast of Georgia. I’ve frequented Saint Simons Island for 30+ years and though it’s really changed, I still love to ride my bike all over the island and the beaches at low tide.
Thank you for your beautiful stories, Lisa. That one moment with Mr. Walker's bbq mop was precious, a great addition to your storehouse of memories. I also am intrigued by and very appreciative of your report from Fannin County. The children did amazingly well, as you say. Bounty and blessings to you.
We went to Sapelo for my birthday a couple of years ago to paint for a few days. The unspoiled beauty was beautiful and so inspiring, along with the little community of Hog Hammock where we stayed. We had Mr. Chris Bailey give us a tour of the island and seeing it through his eyes was profound… like being in church. Sapelo is one of those magical places that makes your heart bigger.
This was a special piece of your perfect prose for me having lived for so long on a barrier island.
We had a chunk of tabby foundation from our old house on the fireplace hearth to remind us what had been under the 1950 cracker cottage before we lived there. The cottage was rebuilt after the ‘50 hurricane tore the front porch and the tin roof off the tabby place and the roof ended up fifty feet in the air tangled in the top of the live oak tree across the street.
Oliver Miller knocked down what was left of the two story tabby shack and built our little place with yellow heart pine framing and cypress novelty siding. The remaining tabby stem walls stayed quietly under the wooden replacement home. Now, new folks from Indiana live there and love the place. They rent our little office studio as an Air B&B for weekend sports fishermen. Those sports-fisher people have long since replaced the mullet cast netters whom we’d hear leaving the harbor every morning at sunrise in their bird dog boats.
Mr. Brooks Campbell built the island’s cypress bird dog boats and also sold his home remedy potion that smelled like turpentine and tasted like it too. Mr. Brooks swore that his concoction was responsible for his long life and good looks, and, if you asked him, he’d tell you, “I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, and I don’t mess with widow women!” We miss Mr. Brooks and hearing him tell tourists his secret to a long life.
Once you replace a barrier island ferry boat with a bridge or two or three, eventually the local young people leave and are sadly replaced with tourists and “folks from away.” The population changes its completion. The souvenir shops with their t-shirts and political crap replace the biscuits, gravy and mullet breakfast joints operated by the Rains family or Pat. Expensive three wheel motorcycles driven onto the dock by a retired insurance salesmen are parked where twenty-five year old pickup trucks with an old yellow dog sleeping in the truck bed used to be parked facing the wrong way. Pat’s full breakfasts used to cost under five dollars, but now the soft ice cream cone costs that much. People talk about the old south, but if you didn’t see and live in it, you’ll never know the people you missed meeting.
I’m sending a donation or buying some swag from the blacklandmatters.org website today. I want to own that t-shirt.
Jeff, your response to the Sapelo post is so nostalgic and sad that I got tears in my eyes reading it. I just can't let myself think about what all we've lost, or I would never stop crying. We have to keep thinking about what we have & what needs our protection & our love. I'd love to see a photo of you in your new BLM t-shirt. xoxo
Home is where, when you have to go there, they have to let you in, wrote Robert Frost. Home welcomed Mr. Dixon back, and then thankfully you invited us to visit.
I think there were a lot of times, LOL, when my folks didn't want to let me back in! :) Thank you for reading this, Michele. If you haven't visited Sapelo, I hope you put it on your list. xo
He's making a loooooong birthday out of it! Instead of one fancy meal, he's asking for about 7!!! Luckily he's willing to cook some of them. He wants a Rum Cake & I bake that today. Peace & love to you.
Thank you for the invitation to see Sapelo through your eyes (your words) and for the introduction to Mr. Dixon. The photo: The way his hand touches his horse's chin, under the halter, tells everything.
Thank you for this piece, Janisse. It brought back a flood of memories. My parents took us to Sapelo two times while we were growing up in the early 2000’s. My mom had read about Sapelo in a newspaper article, and after some digging she was able to reserve us a place to stay in Hog Hammock. I remember going there for our spring break when all my friends were going to Panama City or Disney. I couldn’t figure out why we had to go to an island I had never heard of.
When we arrived, the friendly folks hosting us in Hog Hammock welcomed us with a homemade meal of fried fish and cooked cabbage. My father still talks about how that was the best cabbage he’s ever eaten. Mama let us kids drink coke with dinner, and I remember going to bed that night feeling like this was a special place.
Over the next few days, we rode our bikes all over the island. We saw a wild boar, more alligators than I ever imagined, a family of armadillos with four babies in tow (a longer story which I have shared with my preschool students more times than I can count), a wake of buzzards, and these are just the ones my memory firmly remembers.
What I remember most from our two visits to Sapelo though is the indelible sense of deep beauty present there. Beauty of the land, the sea, the people, the more-than-human beings, and the community of life on that island. That sense of beauty marked my soul as an 11 year old kid, and I remain grateful. Thank you for the reminder.
Place-based stories are the future of writing.
“Sometimes the world calls us out into it so we can broaden what we think of as home.” This is a beautiful piece. Thank you for sharing!
This was powerful for me because I have walked on that ferry bridge and walked on those sandy roads and watched as dolphins swam up into the guts to snack on crabs and sat in Hog Hammock homes listening to the stories, eating the food, and learning to weave a sweetgrass basket. The memories are bittersweet, especially after reading this, because too many of the souls I met then have passed on as well.
Beautiful article! I’ve never been to Sapelo but would love to go. There’s something truly mystical about the barrier islands of Georgia . I think back to a childhood trip to Blackbeard. There’s something elemental to the soul in those places.
Janisse, I spent several happy days on Sapelo helping set up the library there. The people were so welcoming and friendly. One of the older ladies would come every day and stand outside the window. We invited her in, but she wanted to wait until everyone could come in. If I remember correctly, her name was Miss Winnie. Went back for the grand opening and then my husband and I spent a day exploring the island. A special place. So glad to see that someone is helping the folks who have lived there all of their lives. I hate to see new developments come in and tax the people out of their homes. Thanks again for helping keep us aware of issues that affect us all. On another note, I was fortunate to win a painting from the Altama Gallery that Raven had donated for a fundraiser. I have it framed and hanging at our pecan orchard in Appling County. It brings me joy when I look at it. Please give Mama a hug for me.
What a lovely tribute to Mr. Dixon and Sapelo Island. I am so glad the island is protected, and grateful you were able to take your sharp eye and ready pen when you visited so you could share it with us. Thank you!
Wonderful tribute to Sapelo and Mr Dixon! Well done!
What a beautiful and powerful place. Thanks for sharing this journey to Sapelo!
Cassandra, the guide stopped and picked some leaves he called prickly ash. I was talking and wasn't paying attention to the plant. He had us each chew a leaf and said it was used by the local people for toothache. I thought of you.
How cool is that!! Thanks Janisse
I had the privilege of staying in Hog Hammock a number of times in the mid to late 80’s, on the property of the late Cornelia Walker Bailey. She and her husband, Frank, were eager to ensure my friend and my dog, Maddie, and I had everything we needed in the immaculate mobile home adjacent to the little store that supplied most of Hog Hammock with ice cold beverages from an old Coca-Cola cooler -- the type that opened from the top and had two compartments. One door slid to the right, the other to the left. We broke bread with Cornelia and Frank and one Labor Day weekend, Frank cooked ribs in their back yard, on a sheet of metal he’d placed over hot coals. He gently covered them with a special sauce by sopping up the sauce in a small mop head and carefully dabbing the ribs while they sizzled...the first time I’d seen this technique. All I can tell you is that those were the best ribs I’ve ever tasted. Crunchy pieces of fat on the outside and moist and tender down to the bone. I had hoped to go back and see Cornelia before she passed but like many plans, they gave way to my busy life in Atlanta where I lived at the time.
I’ve resided in Fannin County for 23 years now and live within walking distance of Loving Road and New Hope Church and Cemetery. As I read your book about Morganton and the Loving Community, I could see many of the locations you described in my mind. I followed the trips on foot through Hemptown and felt I had a general idea of the motel and old store locations. Nevertheless, we had a small gathering at the Fannin County Library some months ago, to review slides, photographs and newspaper articles about the Woods family, and listen to a local historian tell of her interpretations of some of your anecdotes. As cruel as it may seem, when someone asked the historian what ever happened to Ruby, the crowd was not at all sad to hear of her death from cancer. Each of us felt such deep compassion for those children. It’s a true testament to the strength (especially in numbers) of sibling love and unbelievable resilience, that any of those children were able to have productive lives free of alcohol abuse, drug addiction, prostitution or worse.
I hope you and Raven continue to explore the coast of Georgia. I’ve frequented Saint Simons Island for 30+ years and though it’s really changed, I still love to ride my bike all over the island and the beaches at low tide.
Blessings and Traveling Mercies
Lisa
Thank you for your beautiful stories, Lisa. That one moment with Mr. Walker's bbq mop was precious, a great addition to your storehouse of memories. I also am intrigued by and very appreciative of your report from Fannin County. The children did amazingly well, as you say. Bounty and blessings to you.
We went to Sapelo for my birthday a couple of years ago to paint for a few days. The unspoiled beauty was beautiful and so inspiring, along with the little community of Hog Hammock where we stayed. We had Mr. Chris Bailey give us a tour of the island and seeing it through his eyes was profound… like being in church. Sapelo is one of those magical places that makes your heart bigger.
Your final sentence is killer. Thank you, Dottie. And I love your art.
Hi Janisse, and Happy Birthday Raven.
This was a special piece of your perfect prose for me having lived for so long on a barrier island.
We had a chunk of tabby foundation from our old house on the fireplace hearth to remind us what had been under the 1950 cracker cottage before we lived there. The cottage was rebuilt after the ‘50 hurricane tore the front porch and the tin roof off the tabby place and the roof ended up fifty feet in the air tangled in the top of the live oak tree across the street.
Oliver Miller knocked down what was left of the two story tabby shack and built our little place with yellow heart pine framing and cypress novelty siding. The remaining tabby stem walls stayed quietly under the wooden replacement home. Now, new folks from Indiana live there and love the place. They rent our little office studio as an Air B&B for weekend sports fishermen. Those sports-fisher people have long since replaced the mullet cast netters whom we’d hear leaving the harbor every morning at sunrise in their bird dog boats.
Mr. Brooks Campbell built the island’s cypress bird dog boats and also sold his home remedy potion that smelled like turpentine and tasted like it too. Mr. Brooks swore that his concoction was responsible for his long life and good looks, and, if you asked him, he’d tell you, “I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, and I don’t mess with widow women!” We miss Mr. Brooks and hearing him tell tourists his secret to a long life.
Once you replace a barrier island ferry boat with a bridge or two or three, eventually the local young people leave and are sadly replaced with tourists and “folks from away.” The population changes its completion. The souvenir shops with their t-shirts and political crap replace the biscuits, gravy and mullet breakfast joints operated by the Rains family or Pat. Expensive three wheel motorcycles driven onto the dock by a retired insurance salesmen are parked where twenty-five year old pickup trucks with an old yellow dog sleeping in the truck bed used to be parked facing the wrong way. Pat’s full breakfasts used to cost under five dollars, but now the soft ice cream cone costs that much. People talk about the old south, but if you didn’t see and live in it, you’ll never know the people you missed meeting.
I’m sending a donation or buying some swag from the blacklandmatters.org website today. I want to own that t-shirt.
Jeff, your response to the Sapelo post is so nostalgic and sad that I got tears in my eyes reading it. I just can't let myself think about what all we've lost, or I would never stop crying. We have to keep thinking about what we have & what needs our protection & our love. I'd love to see a photo of you in your new BLM t-shirt. xoxo
Home is where, when you have to go there, they have to let you in, wrote Robert Frost. Home welcomed Mr. Dixon back, and then thankfully you invited us to visit.
I think there were a lot of times, LOL, when my folks didn't want to let me back in! :) Thank you for reading this, Michele. If you haven't visited Sapelo, I hope you put it on your list. xo
This is lovely. I’ve visited Sapelo three times. There is something magical there.
Hey, Lane! Great to see you here. Yes to the magic, and to the magic in every place. I think environmental destruction destroys magic. xo
And Happy Birthday to Raven!
He's making a loooooong birthday out of it! Instead of one fancy meal, he's asking for about 7!!! Luckily he's willing to cook some of them. He wants a Rum Cake & I bake that today. Peace & love to you.
Thank you for the invitation to see Sapelo through your eyes (your words) and for the introduction to Mr. Dixon. The photo: The way his hand touches his horse's chin, under the halter, tells everything.
You would notice a thing like that, Kat. You're special.