January 27th

Dear Mom,

This feels like it’s been the longest month. I suppose that’s a common problem with January. Even down here in the south it’s gray and stormy almost every day, and as much as I love the rain, it’s hard to get up the energy to go out and explore the countryside when it’s pouring.

I even bought an umbrella, which I obviously never needed in Colorado, and it’s been dripping right next to the door for the last two hours while I’ve been sipping on my tea and reading a book.

I will say, and it’s a bit of a surprise to me, it’s kind of nice to take a break from sightseeing, and just relax. I’ve finished two books in the last week and I’m almost done with a third.

That’s one thing I like about most of these RV campgrounds. They often have a little circulating library. A take a book, leave a book kind of arrangement.

I did want to check out the Stone Mountain Park and the train that runs the perimeter of the mountain last week, but the rain only turned to a light mist yesterday, so I rode the train twice because the views of the lake are beautiful.

I also learned about Roy Faulkner, the man who carved Stone Mountain.

There's so much anger directed toward the sculpture, and justifiably so, I suppose. I guess I was never taught that sculptures were meant to do anything but document history, and it's hard for me to see them as celebrating it.

I definitely don't think we should be celebrating anything about the Civil War or that era where so many human beings were tortured, killed, ripped from their families and loves.

I don't think we should celebrate it, but it concerns me that if we destroy everything that documents it, we might at some point forget the horrors. Just like with the holocaust.

It blows my mind there are people out there who believe the holocaust is a hoax.

I know I don't usually write to you about serious things, because what's the point? But this whole thing with Stone Mountain, basically a memorial to men who fought to keep other human's enslaved, well, I can see justification for those who are angry.

And I really am not even someone who has the right to speak about it.

All I know, is I am human. I believe that all human's deserve the same rights to be respected and loved until they prove otherwise individually. I wish it could be so simple across the world and we could stop making basic decency seem harder to achieve than it should be.

The history of the sculpture itself is fascinating. The men who were hired to sculpt it couldn't figure it out because the rock was so hard. So the guy who was hired to build the scaffolding helped them figure out torches hot enough to sculpt the stone. They still couldn't figure it out properly because they couldn't get back far enough to get a good overall view, so they quit.

Then the guy who was hired to build the scaffolding, Roy Faulkner, told the owners he could do it, and without learning anything about art, he built it himself over more than a decade.

That is dedication.

The train that runs used to use steam engines, and when they first switched to diesel they sometimes would use a diesel disguised as a regular train car to push the steam engines even then.

They also had visiting engines, including Savannah and Atlanta #750. It was in the movie, Biloxi Blues, and was nicknamed Old Seven and a Half. It's in the Southeastern Railway Museum in Duluth, which I visited last week during the real downpour.

I'm really hoping it clears up a bit soon so I can check out the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. They have all these enormous figures grown out of plants. Some of them are from Alice in Wonderland, but I know there's a dragon in there too, and I'm so excited to see it. I found a bunch of pictures online, but of course that's nothing to experiencing it first hand.

For now though, the raindrops are rolling down my window and I can hear the rain thrumming on the roof over the sound of Shostakovich that's playing. I read about him in a book I finished last week, and have been listening to a playlist of his work over and over ever since. It probably isn't completely healthy for me to be reading sad books, listening to music set mostly in minor keys, while the rain pours outside and I have very little social stimulation, but for the moment it's making me completely happy.

On the other hand I haven't had an actual conversation with anyone in a while, even on the phone, and if I'm not careful Meg is going to start wondering why I haven't called her and she'll call me and yell at me about being unsocial.

So I suppose I'll wrap up this letter and call her.

I love you Mom,

Bo