Last Days in Savannah

For my final days in Savannah I performed the shoots at some pretty spectacular inns and added some more local footage as well. There was a showing of warmer weather along with the sun, but recent drizzle has signaled oncoming stormy weather.

Across from one house, converted to an inn, was Forsyth Park, the enormous park that you get a glimpse of in Forest Gump. They were having their annual Savannah Chilli Cook-Off and a teen band, Boys Like Girls were performing to a throng of kids. There were families and people with dogs all over the place. It must be the forty or so parks that make owning a dog here a common thing. But it is very normal to see dogs of all varieties, but more on the larger side.

Today I made a run over to Bonaventure Cemetery and poked along the river front in town. The cemetery is a good ten minutes outside of town. It has sandy roads and a vast expanse of tombstones of all ages. It is a neat feel with the trees stretched upwards, dangling their moss, though this time of year has somewhat muddled the colors. I wanted to head to find the grave of one of my favorite poets, Conrad Aiken. It was in 8th grade that I first memorized and recited one of his poems, 'Morning Song from Senlin.' I let my senses guide me through the cemetery, as I had no map. But in about five minutes I found it. His was a very simple grave - a bench. Evidently, he had wished for people to come and sit on his grave and enjoy a nice glass of Madeira. I almost bought some just for the cause and since it happened to be my favorite! But I could not drink the whole bottle and it would cost. So, I sat on his grave and recited his poem from the stretches of my memory. He died in 1973 and on his bench was carved, 'Cosmos Mariner Destination Unknown' and 'Give My Love to the World.' It made me feel good, sitting there, reciting his work. Though I did look over at his parents grave, both died on the same day in 1901. I then remembered it was a murder suicide.

I also made a stop at another Savannah landmark, the grave of 'Gracie.' This eight year old died just two days before Easter and was the daughter of a prominent hotel owner. She is a famous ghost and people visit her grave as their is a very accurate representation of her carved in stone.

The rain sprinkled and I made my way back into town, had lunch at Leopold's. Stratton Leopold, a movie-maker, owns the store and you can see pictures and props from his movies all over the place. I had a chicken salad sandwich and perfect chocolate shake.

I shot another property, a historic inn built in the 1870's and then went over to check into my lodging on Bay Street. "Factors Walk" is the name of the stretch of stone road that runs like a moat beneath the storefront. There is the main street level, then you walk across any number of bridges to the main building front. As you cross you can look down into the alleyway below where once wagons of cotton parked below the bridges. The 'Factor' would look down and grade and set the price for the cotton. On the river side of the building it is stepped down yet another level. This is where the paddleboats, trolley track and river walk is. There are many different restaurants where you can sit and eat and watch giant container ships or paddleboats move up and down.

After eating a mediocre dinner, I sauntered around with my camera. I paid a visit to a Greek restaurant to grab a Greek coffee and then bought a rose made out of reeds from a poor fellow. We had a friendly talk about where he was from and Savannah weather and all those things. It was nice to have a good person to share some time with.

Wanting to drag my time out as long as I could, I made a short walk into some of the town squares and past the living history I knew that I would miss and not know when I'd see again. Savannah has an equal life at night and it feels just as good walking these blocks during the darker hours.

Well, that is that. It's great to visit one of your favorite cities, but being under the auspices of work does add a different vibe to the experience. This is a place that was special ever since I first visited and know it is very much worth subsequent journeys.

To sign off this time, I will close with some of what I recited sitting upon Conrad Aiken's bench-grave:

IT is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning
When the light drips through the shutters like the dew,
I arise, I face the sunrise,
And do the things my fathers learned to do.
Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops
Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die,
And I myself on swiftly tilting planet
Stand before a glass and tie my tie.

Vine-leaves tap my window,
Dew-drops sing to the garden stones,
The robin chirps in the chinaberry tree
Repeating three clear tones.

It is morning. I stand by the mirror
And tie my tie once more.
While waves far off in a pale rose twilight
Crash on a white sand shore.
I stand by a mirror and comb my hair:
How small and white my face!—
The green earth tilts through a sphere of air
And bathes in a flame of space.
There are houses hanging above the stars
And stars hung under a sea...
And a sun far off in a shell of silence
Dapples my walls for me....