Fear on The Trail

On Wednesday, January 23, 2008, my dog, Mei Ling and I went out to the Autry Mill Preserve for a short hike and a look at the family of monkeys on the Forest trail.

We sat at a picnic table and ate our Taco Bell lunch before starting on the trail.

The only other people around were a lady and young son who appeared to be waiting for someone at the restroom, some 50 yards away from us. Soon another young [7 to 9 years] boy came out and joined the mother as they went to the beginning of the trail where they stopped to read the items on the bulletin board. Their actions indicated that they were new to the park.

I continued eating as they walked toward the parking area, apparently planning to forego the trail. I spoke and asked if they had seen the monkeys on the trail. Surprised at the mention of monkeys the lady asked if there were monkeys, like at a zoo?

They were close enough that I could talk easily, and I briefly explained the story of the circus train wreck, escape of the monkeys, etc and the creation of concrete replacements on the trail by an unnamed man. They started walking toward their car. I asked if they were going to leave without seeing the monkeys?

At this point I realized the lady might be fearful of going down the trail with no one around but me. Never in my life have I felt that someone feared being near me.

I hesitated to urge them to go on the trail. That would just make matters worse. Neither did I say anything to try to convince her I was harmless.

She explained that she needed to go somewhere and would see the monkeys later.

They went to their car and left the park.

Mei Ling and I walked down the trail to visit the monkeys, who seemed happy to see us, but kept silent, we didn’t talk about it, but I could not help but think of the apparent feeling of fear at the park and how it deprived those young boys of the pleasure of seeing the family of concrete monkeys. I certainly hope they went back later.

I am assuming that the mother was fearful of going on the trail because of the recent tragic death of the young hiker in the Vogel State Park. Certainly she is to be commended for taking care to protect herself and her children. She could be justified in seeing me as another Hilton fellow, just waiting to accompany her on a friendly walk and then killing the three of them.

The sad part of it is the fact of justifiable fear that restrains people from enjoying the trails of our parks. Certainly all hikers should be alert and very careful when they go on a trail. In addition to the usual, natural hazards of the woods and streams there are the people of warped minds who must be avoided.

The ‘how’ of avoiding the dangers of the bad persons on hiking trails has suddenly become an important issue of life and death. It is not sufficient to tell hikers to stay off the trails.

In Montgomery, Alabama a former Boy Scout, Robert Mullen, is working on a Hiker’s Manual inspired by news reports of persons being lost or murdered on trails during the recent past. I hope the manual will deal adequately with hiking safety issues as well as the problems associated with hikers trail fears.

Jerry Clements 1/24/08

Erlene McGraw - Jerry Reminisces About a Dear Friend and Sacred Harp Singing

It was the summer of 1938 that I became a friend of Miss Erlene McGraw.

I had been living in Atlanta several months, had met very few people other than those at work and at the boarding house. I was not searching for acquaintances, but was happy to meet friendly persons anywhere I met them. Mama loved Sacred Harp singing and I had often transported her to sites where singings were taking place and thus had developed a modest interest in this unusual style of musical expression.

In the newspaper there was a story telling of a Sacred Harp singing that was scheduled at a Nazarene church on the outskirts of Atlanta on the next Sunday. I had not yet selected a church to attend and this one did not appeal to me, aside from the singing event. I rode the street car to the church locations and walked in as if I were and experienced singer. I found a seat a couple of rows away from the ‘square’ and enjoyed observing the singers as they arrived, greeted friends and assembled in their proper place in the square.

The ‘square’ was the place where the leaders stood as they conducted the singing. It was surrounded by singers with those of like voice, like Alto, Base, etc , seated on respective sides of the room. As a person’s time to lead approached he [or she] would enter the square, lead her song or two and then return to her seat. Apparently, the leaders were chosen and an order of leadership established prior to the start. The leaders were of all ages from pre-teens to old ones who appeared to be in their 90s.

The leaders and singers evidently were experienced singers. The meeting proceeded smoothly with everyone doing their parts well and happily. It was very similar to several such affairs I had attended with Mama in Alabama. I could not help thinking of how happy she would be and how much she would enjoy the meeting if she were there.

In the proceedings I noticed that the name McGraw showed up in the announcements and among the leaders. Mr. McGraw seemed to be a leader in the singers association and among those who planned the meeting. He was also among the first leaders, with the response giving evidence of trust in his leadership in and outside the ‘square’. Of even greater interest was a young female singer who later appeared as a leader. That was Erlene McGraw, daughter of the esteemed Mr. McGraw.

I could not help recognizing Erlene's superior talents as a singer and as a leader. At the morning break, in spite of my timid nature, I made the opportunity of introducing myself to Erlene. I complemented her and explained that I had not learned to sing Sacred Harp, but had learned a good bit about it from my mother’s interest in Alabama. She was very gracious and explained that the McGraw family had been much interested in the Association and participating in the leadership for several generations. Before the singing was over I learned that Erlene’s family were members of the Hapeville Methodist Church and was invited to participate in a smaller group of Sacred Harp singers there.

It was a small church and I enjoyed a few visits there. However, one of my roommates and I had been attending the Druid Hills Methodist Church which was near our boarding house and he persuaded me to stay closer to home. My further contacts with Erlene were to fulfill invitations to attend occasional special singings with her. Also, at this church I met Elsie Marie Andrews who became sufficiently interested to become my wife on November 20, 1940.

Erlene faded out of the picture, but not from my memory.

A friend, Dr. A. L. Jenkins, who attended the Fountain City Methodist Church and also worked as a fellow leader in Boy Scout work asked me if Elsie and I would like to accompany him and his wife, Ethel, on a trip to Alaska. Neither of us had even considered such an adventure and quickly agreed to go to Alaska with the Jenkins.

I knew that such a trip would require a lot of planning and asked what part he had in mind for us in the planning. At a meeting he told us of the general idea of flying part of the way, renting a car for the rest of the trip. Then his brief outline turned out to be a complete itinerary with details including motels, cruise lines, mileage, etc along with financial plans for equal sharing of the costs.

We flew to Salt Lake City, rented a car and took off on a really great 42 day adventure. We took turns driving, saw all the major sites along the way north into Canada and west to Seattle. From there we traveled by plane, ships and trains to see the sights in Eastern Alaska and back. From Seattle we flew back home with a two-hour layover in Atlanta.

It was there that Astor wanted to introduce us to a very close friend of his. The name of the friend never registered with me, but the friend’s wife was named Erlene. Sure enough, it was Erlene McGraw whom I had not see for over 40 years. I enjoyed talking with her and learning that her marriage had been altogether happy. She was happy to meet my wife, Elsie, and our brief visit ended with our boarding the plane for home in Knoxville. The Jenkins and Clements folks had much to talk about on the plane trip ending the 42 days of the Alaska adventure.

Erlene came back to mind during my attendance at the annual Georgia Sacred Harp Singers convention in the Decatur courthouse in June, 2005. Erlene’s uncle was on the program and I found an opportunity to speak to him about Erlene. He explained that Erlene had a stroke a few years earlier, had spent some time in a nursing home before she died. I did not ask him for exact dates, but was assured that she had a long and happy life and had made a great contribution to the Sacred Harp Singing program.

Erlene’s happy spirit will be with me whenever I hear Sacred Harp singing.

Jerry Clements 2-1-08

Jerry's Poem: 'Cousin'

Who’s that man come in from the range?
Listen to his words—they’re pure babble,
Even his accent sounds rather strange.
Easily suspect he’s of the cross-track rabble.

Perhaps he’s of a sheep-herder clan,
That would explain the rough tan skin.
Yet the set of the shoulder, his lengthy stride
Mark him as a row-crop farmer’s kin.

Maybe a look in the family tree is needed,
Careful check of the records might be wise.
Surely all sources should be heeded,
In search of some family ties.

He’s no close relative I would guess,
Can’t find him in my family data file.
Yet incomplete is my record on Aunt Bess
Who’s been missing for quite a while.

Off to Texas with that bum she went,
Thinking he had a big rich spread,
Finding when her saving were spent
Only a big talking fool she had wed.

Family rumors flying around town
Say there was a son born to Bess,.
Who, though it's not written down
Could be my cousin, I confess.

Long lost facts now verified,
Our suspicious ideas run aground,
Reveal our doubts, our efforts tried.
Brings us a cousin. Cheers all around!

Shame upon us all on this day
For our mean, ingrown, silly pride.
Refusing recognition, come what may
Of a dear cousin now close at our side.

Jerry Clements 5/21/07

Jerry's Latest Poem: 'Viewpoint of a Leaf'

Jerry sent me this, his latest poem entitled 'Viewpoint of a Leaf,' with the following message of explanation. Enjoy this beautiful poem about autumn leaves from the viewpoint of the leaf itself.

Here is what Jerry said:

Hi, Judy. Yesterday I went out and paid a visit to the monkeys on the Autrey Mill trail. They are well and seemed happy. There were no complaints as they stood silently in a straight row along the side of the trail. They are still wearing their colorful scarves and seem real proud of the colors as well as the artistic manner of their drapes.

Another product of the hike was the great variety and color of the leaves along the trail. I tried to tell about them in a poem, but it didn't begin to express how good they looked. The dry weather evidently worked its magic. I am trying to attach a copy for you. All else is going well. Love, Jerry

Viewpoint of a Leaf
Sing no mournful, sad songs for me,
Its time for celebration—can’t you see?
I’ve lived my life, very long and well,
Come join with me and help me tell
Sojourners to open their eyes to the world around
And to the napping beauty on the ground.

Look carefully at my well crafted frame,
Run of time and sun enables it to proclaim
A change from leaf to beautiful piece of art.
With more varied colors than on any chart.
My dried veins with water once flowing
Now closed, as is the season of growing.

I am just one of the millions lying around
Waiting my turn to make solid the ground.
Meantime my colors add beauty and grace
To nature’s quilt as it covers the place.
Some may see and make note as finders
While others may well have worn blinders.

It will matter little to me, I’ve done my best.
I served my master with loyalty and zest,
I helped bring him much nourishing vim
From the roots to the tip of each limb.
It was good work and my master was kind.
I’ll forever keep him lovingly in mind.

Its on to the harvest, the feast and the gore,
The innards of the littlest creatures I’ll explore.
They’ll chew me up, search for food they enjoy
And extrude the rest for the forest to employ.
Some, wanting to use nice words, call it reincarnation.
For me, I’m just lost in the confusing translation.