Today I ran errands. It took me into the deeper parts of the city, the places I have only visited rarely as there is not much left there for visiting. This city is huge and confusing at times, what with streets that run only one way, you must travel a bit here to get your bearings. There is something of joy here in the hustle and bustle and the rejuvenation that has been occurring. Men in smart suits, carrying briefcases and with cell phones permanently attached to their ears, have decided that urban renewal is a must if this city is to redeem itself and become once more like the grand lady she once was. I do believe these are the great grand sons of the very men who raised her after Sherman burned her to the ground.
It is said that Sherman never razed Savannah because the people there were so kind, friendly and hospitable to the soldiers burning their way to the sea. That, though they hated being so generous to the Yankees, they loved their city more. And so the sacrifice was made and the city was saved. I'm not an historian, but that's what I have heard . Being a Yankee myself I tend to wonder if that is just a bit of Southern folklore designed to attract more tourists? Probably thought up by the carpet baggers to help sell their product. Nothing like good old Yankee ingenuity in marketing. And, of course, 25,000 bales of cotton didn't hurt either.
And so I drove those streets, some brick, others only one step above dust and made my way through the darker parts of the city, the ones those fine men in their smart suits have not yet begun to face-lift for posterity. And I saw the old houses, still magnificent in their debilitated glory and was reminded of the dignity and pride that Scarlet exuded after the burning of Atlanta in 'Gone with The Wind'.
You just can't keep a southern belle down.
