G-Day at UGA – We Watch The Red Play the Black.


G Day 4

Notice this picture was taken from the shade. The end zone is in the sun.

Ben and Sister

My Sister. We refer to her as Sister. Her given name is Sandra Lee but we have been calling her Sister for about 75 years and it seems to be sticking.

Katie Mae had this fantastic idea a few weeks ago. She thought it would be a wonderful thing to invite my Sister and her family to our house for this past weekend and we could all dine splendidly because when you eat at Katie Mae’s place you always dine splendidly and after we had stuffed ourselves for a couple of meals we could go watch UGA’s G-Day game on Saturday. And that’s what we did. Also we were all excited about seeing Britt’s boy Thomas play some Georgia football. It all went well and, as I said before, splendidly.

Katie Mae can load you down with more food and hors d’ oeuvres and then more food than it’s socially acceptable to stuff in your fat self but then who was trying to be socially acceptable?

We got to the game. My nephew Watkins Cannon was pilot of one vehicle and my son Paul drove the other. We had about a dozen people in the two cars and the plan was for the drivers to drop us all off and go find a place to park and then return to the game to join us but as my luck usually has it, a nice lady guard at the back of the Tate Student Center let us drop off all the passengers and then said (very quietly), Tell your two drivers to make a turn around the guard shack and we will get you parking spots in the parking garage behind you. This saved Ben and Sister from having to worry about long waits and long walks. The game was fun and as Louise Whiting used to say on the Society Page of The Albany Herald, “Games were played and fun was had by all.”

G Day 2

A common scene at a Sanford Stadium football game. The backs of the spectators standing in front of you.

G Day - More Family

The Swilley, Cannon, Lauterback gang…..with Harrison Fowler.


More of the spectators. This time, thankfully, they’re in their seats.


Kelly, Thomas, Rebecca

Kelly Cannon, Thomas Swilley and Rebecca Holland gracing the bar.                                                                                            Kelly Cannon (in blue) is married to my Sister’s youngest son, Watkins. Rebecca Holland is Paul’s special friend.

Sandra Swilley Cannon (below) with her eldest son, Harrison Lee Fowler.Sister and Harrison

Watkins, Paul, Mary Dale

Watkins Cannon and Mary Dale Cannon Lauterbach are my Sisters children. The rascal in the middle is young Paul who is claimed by Kay and me.

G Day 5

Thomas Swilley is our UGA player and he has a very good appetite as you might imagine. It is wonderful to watch him eat. I remember being able to consume food like that when I was a young man. John is his brother. Britt is Father to both and Kay and I count Paul as our own. Thomas is standing. At the bar from the left is Paul, Britt, John, and the oldest but best looking Swilley boy.

The Whole Family

The whole gang Friday night before Saturday’s game. The person in charge is that short woman out front and to the right who has on a striped shirt.


The crafty Cannon brothers. They don’t realize we are real old and we know all the looks of someone up to nefarious endeavors. Where is Batman when you really need him?

Kay and Paul

My own Katie Mae. She who organizes, cleans and cooks and spends too much time trying to make me behave with our handsome lad Paul; grill aficionado extraordinaire. And oh how the boy can cook on outdoor BBQ equipment.

And so we are alone once again but guess who gets to pig out for the last three days on the cheese grits and sausage and egg casserole every morning and guess who has been diving into the leftover ham like it was his last meal. Today I lunched on the chicken salad that’s so happily (for me) made with grapes and apples. Now I get to eat some of the world’s best vegetable soup made with leftover vegetables and a huge much appreciated hambone.

Soon it will all be gone. I ate the last of the Plantation Crunch and Pecan Graham Crispies ( also known as Bulldog Divinity) yesterday.

There are a few scraps of sliced sausage left. I have hidden them deep in the darkened recesses of our refrigerator. It started out as links of chicken sausage stuffed with spinach and Asiago cheese, warmed to perfection on the grill and sliced into bite sized morsels that several of us got in the floor and fought over. Unfortunately somebody licked the bottom of the mustard dip bowl but maybe I can beg Katie Mae to make me a thimbleful more so I can enjoy the few bites left over. She makes it with dijon mustard with chardonnay and mayonnaise and honey.

Nothing goes wasted. No food is lost when you live with Benjamin the human garbage disposal. I would invite neighbors over but I don’t want to.

Such is the extent of my greed. If I have shared the food once and broken bread over the same foodstuffs with others, then my rule is I must eat all the leftovers myself.

I would share with Paul but he won’t come over. He remembers me sharing food with him once before when I bit him on the hand because I thought his eating was getting out of hand. That means he was trying to eat my food out of my hand.

I believe I have found all the food that was stashed out of my sight except for the delicious sausage balls that were made by my talented niece Mary Dale Cannon Lauterbach.

Katy Mae does not realize that I know she froze them. Unlike most goofy older guys, I actually know how to thaw food and devour it in mere minutes.

When she checks the freezer for those meatballs in a week or two they will not be there. The geezergrit gut has struck again. By then she will think she just imagined putting them in there. Her memory is not much better than mine and she is almost twelve years younger.

So the big day came and went but I can tell you there is nothing like fun shared with family. I was never more aware of that than when I had a four-way bypass back in 2001. The family support was amazing and I truly believe that support worked a quick recovery on me. I was back at work in less than a month.

Take care of your family. You’ll have a great time with them and you never know when you will need them and how much their support will mean to you. G Day 6

Rebecca Holland, Paul Swilley, Eva Lauterbach my grand niece and her mother Mary Dale Cannon Lauterbach.
G Day 7

My grand niece Alexandra Lauterbach in the black top, Her brother Sam in the green tee shirt, and her uncle, Harrison Lee Fowler in the yellow shirt.

New Dawg In Town – He’s Little But He Has a Big Dawg’s Heart.

hummingbird_579_600x450The pansies finally bit the dust. Like everything in Athens the pansies had a fighting spirit and lasted through the winter, and then some, but about a week ago they began to give up the ghost.

We took them down from a shepherd’s hook that’s tied to one of the posts on the deck and we replaced the pansies with a hummingbird feeder that has a bottle about the size of those old liquor bottles we used to call a fifth. Back then the bottles were all amber. This bottle is bright Bulldawg red.

So this hummingbird shows up and I did not realize, at first, that he owns the house. I quickly learned there was to be no mistake about ownership. He immediately took possession of the deck.

I’m always a little slow to catch on to the happenings around me. I thought he was an innocent little Ruby-Throated Hummingbird who was there for an occasional quaff of the sweet water I had poured in the red feeder bottle.

That was exactly why he was there but he did not come in peace. The trouble erupted in whiz-bang aerial warfare whenever another humming bird came anywhere near his air space. He has protected air space over his feeder and it is definitely a no-fly zone for other hummingbirds.

It was about this time that Katie Mae and I determined he was a Georgia Hummingdawg. He has a bright red throat and black sideburns all the way to the end of his tail. The only thing out of place is that bright iridescent green back but he can be forgiven that touch of unorthodoxy because there’s no doubt he is all Hummingdawg.

He fights like a Bulldawg. He is alert and will even give chase to errant leaves as they have begun falling. He reminds me of an excellent Georgia Bulldog defensive back.

He perches for long periods of time on the top arc of the shepherd’s hook and he is so small he looks like one of the ornamental leaves welded there. Katie Mae named him Little Russ (L.R.) in honor of Uga IX. It is a great joy to watch L.R. at war in the sky behind our house. I have not seen a single hummingbird be successful at getting a sip from that feeder since he took over and I think one of the birds who keeps trying is L.R.’s own poor wife.

It’s a bit disconcerting to think he won’t let his wife have a drink. They are supposed to double their weight before they head out over the Gulf of Mexico to go winter in Central America but maybe he has good reason.

I wish he would stay to cheer the Bulldogs on through this entire season but if he has to go I think I understand. I’m pretty sure I saw his wife walking to the Wal-Mart down the road a couple of times last winter and I’m guessing she had doubled her weight by a micro-ounce or more. If she had become to heavy to fly around the neighborhood then she most likely couldn’t make it to South America.

I think he and some of his pals like to get there and rest up for a few months so they can all be ready for Carnival in Rio de Janeiro. They are usually seen decorating the fruit-filled hat of the Samba Queen at Rio’s Carnival. He hates to miss Carnival two years in a row.

Katie Mae and I just watched L.R. run off three Tufted Titmouses (or is it Titmice?). Each of them was about five times bigger than him and a Titmouse is a small bird. l.R. couldn’t be any bigger than a small woman’s thumb.

I really wish L.R. would stay and help us pull the Dawgs through a perfect season. He could do it. He’s got homegrown Bulldog colors and he certainly fights like a Dawg.

Maybe he’ll stay. I’ve got a feeling Georgia’s football season is going to be a lot more fascinating and exciting than any Samba festival in South America.