Bacon's Rebellion

Democracy Thrives in Sunlight

A Brief Hiatus from our Usual Blogging

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by

James A. Bacon
in

Well, Baconauts, I find myself in sunny Augusta, Ga. — except it’s not very sunny around 8 a.m. this morning: The town is covered with a thick fog. Anyway, I’m here to observe what has become one of the nation’s largest sporting events. At its peak, up to 150,000 people will crowd the fairways to watch a procession of middled-aged white guys — plus Tiger Woods — swing long sticks at little balls.

I’ve never played a single round of golf, and at 55 years old, I don’t intend to begin. I’m here because my wife likes golf and in a fit of madness bid on some tickets at the Collegiate school auction — and won. As ignorant as I am of the sport, I doubt I will have anything useful to say. If you want insight into the tournament, turn on the television!

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  1. Anonymous Avatar
    Anonymous

    Bacon,
    WHHAAAT? You go all the way to the Nationals and for analysis, you tell us to turn on the TV? What the hell kind of reporter are you, anyway? No wonder that journalism is going all to hell.

    And how about that goofy bright green jacket? You gonna get one?

    Disappointed,
    Peter Galuszka

  2. Anonymous Avatar
    Anonymous

    The Masters is bigger than golf itself. Lighten up and smell the azaleas.

  3. Jack English Avatar
    Jack English

    Damn, an honest man! Jack English in N.C and a descendant of Capt. Thomas Williford, who was hanged by Gov. Berkely for his part in Bacon’s Rebellion.

  4. Groveton Avatar
    Groveton

    Jim:

    Have fun in Georgia. I am cooling my heels in South Carolina over a long weekend. I will be fishing and golfing and watching the Masters on TV. I’ll keep an eye open for you in the crowd. You should talk to some of the “natives” if you can find any. They seem to think that people from Virginia are northerners – and that certainly includes people from Richmond. It’s always interesting to see “a real Virginian” get told he is not “a real Southerner” by someone from Georgia. Of course, if you were a landowner in the “real South” – Georgia or South Carolina for example, you would become a “real Southerner”. I can send you the name of my real estate agent if you’d like.

    Also, on the golf front – I can almost understand why you won’t take up skiing at 55. But golf? C’Mon! The most dangerous aspect of golf is getting a sun burn.

    I have to run. I need a run before I tuck into a lunch of fried green tomatoes and shrimp and grits (with Tasso gravy, of course).

    Y’all have fun down in JawJa. See if you can find a mint julip. Tell everybody that Richmond is still the capital of the South. Watch them laugh.

    See y’all latah…

  5. Accurate Avatar
    Accurate

    My first and only trip to the SE part of the USA was this last summer when my youngest graduated from Basic Training at Fort Jackson in South Carolina. Since we were close the wife and I dropped down to see where the Masters was played – couldn’t see too much, but it’s cool to say I’ve been there. Lovely place.

    Jim, you MIGHT want to take up the sport. It’s the only sport that I can recall that I’ve seen a 12 year old grandson playing with his 70+ year old grandfather – each could play at his own level yet enjoy each other and the sport. Also for my wife and I, while I could dominate her at most one-on-one sports, golf is something that we both can do together, enjoy more time with one another – I just love it. Enjoy in your own way.

  6. Anonymous Avatar
    Anonymous

    I have only half the muscles in my left arm, so it’s kind of a handicap for golf. There’s also the lightning. I figured out long ago that If I wanted low scores, I should stick to bowling.

    But, I can still ski and with my older sister. Also, I was sailing with my father until he was well into his 70’s. There’s a lot of things old geezers can do: first you have to want to.

    When I lived in the south, I spent most of my time with the working class. My recollections of southern cuisine run more along the lines of a breakfast consisting of Pepsi-Cola and a Moon-Pie.

    RH

  7. Groveton Avatar
    Groveton

    I always thought it was RC Cola and Moon Pie. Pepsi? They’re from “New York City” (actually Purchase, NY I believe).

    http://askville.amazon.com/RC-Cola-Moon-Pie-working-man%27s-lunch/AnswerViewer.do?requestId=3766174

  8. Anonymous Avatar
    Anonymous

    Pepsi was originally a North Carolina company, I think. (New Bern?) i never could figure out why it was prefferred over Coke (Atlanta).

    But you are correct about RC Cola, it was pretty much interchangeable with Pepsi. Either that, or Red, White and Blue 3.2% beer.

    RH

  9. Larry Gross Avatar
    Larry Gross

    Huntington, Indiana here.. land of fields and corn…

  10. Anonymous Avatar
    Anonymous

    Jim,
    You better put down that Bloody Mary and get back here immediately. The Rebellion is falling apart!

    James Atticus Bowden is about to sign on as Barrack Obama’s economic adviser.

    LG and RH are getting along.

    Even EMR is starting to make sense!

    Peter Galuszka

  11. Anonymous Avatar
    Anonymous

    Baconauts. That’s really funny, I love it.

    As for Galuszka’s comment, I thought that wa the whole point. If a group this disparate can come to a meeting of the minds, then maybe ther is hope after all.

    EMR notwithstanding.

    RH

  12. Anonymous Avatar
    Anonymous

    Anonymous 7:47 is right. There is nothing quite like the azaleas in that are this time of year. Although I don’t recall them having much scent; maybe it’s a hazard of being an environmental chemist. How ironic is that?

    When I lived in Wilmington, the deree to which people went to create showy dispays of multicolored Azaleas was amazing. Some homes were virtually blinding, and those people take the azalea festival seriously.

    Meanwhile, back home, we are still stuck with the Forsythia and the showy but pathetic Bradford pears. One of these days, those sorry specimens will be considered pests.

    At least if you want to plant a tree, plant one that has some value when it is dead, so that something valuable will be created and the carbon sequestered for centuries.

    RH

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