Karen Taylor Squires

I had the pleasure of heading to Savannah, GA, for a conference in November. I cannot say it was an uneventful trip. In fact, just getting to Savannah was a journey of patience and endurance.

On November 14, I headed out for Georgia at about 7:00 am but was stopped in my tracks by a call from our first cousin. Her voice told me that something was wrong. She indicated that she had fallen and quite possibly had broken her leg. I turned around and headed to her house. Sure enough, when I got there, it indeed looked broken. Hours later, we would learn that it wasn’t broken but badly bruised. We headed to the emergency room at Highland Hospital. The trip to Shreveport was smooth, and after meeting her daughter at the hospital and getting her settled in the ER, I was once again ready to head to GA.

But, no, that was not in cards. I got back in my brand-new minivan and tried to start it. Not one spark or burst of energy. Confusion filled my brain. I could not imagine what could possibly have happened in the twenty minutes I was in the hospital. I beat on it, said ugly things to it, and jerked on the steering wheel. I got out and kicked the tires. I called the dealer. They told me a couple of things to try, but nothing. I resigned to get a tow truck to take me to the dealer. I am now for sure going to be leaving later. Luckily, I had given myself an extra day of sightseeing before the conference.

After waiting 90 minutes for a tow truck, I realized that my good friends, Francy and Greg Davis, were at the hospital. What luck. I’m not sure if everyone knows this, but Greg Davis can fix anything. Greg walked out to the parking lot and immediately said, “Your tires are turned.” I agreed but couldn’t figure out what difference that would make. He got in my car and jerked the steering wheel even harder than I ever thought to do. Miracles of miracles, the dang car started right up for him. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “It was just in a bind.” I looked embarrassed but thoroughly relieved. Again, Greg garnered hero status from me.

I headed out on my trip once again. Just 4 hours later than before. This meant that there would be no leisurely drive. I would need to push myself to complete the 13 ½ hours as quickly as possible. I rolled into Savannah at 1 a.m. and fell into my bed. I stopped only twice on the ride, for 14 minutes each time. It was only time to fill up the van and rush through a pit stop.

Although getting to Savannah had been a task, being in Savannah was a joy. If you haven’t experienced this city’s beauty and simplicity, you must visit. This city is made up of neighborhood squares, each with its own central park. Trees are everywhere, and the Savannah River is just east of this. All through all of this are the restaurants, shops, and nightlife. On my first day, I decided to experience all of them. Breakfast was in a local bakery. The French toast was mouth-watering. I strolled through the historical sites and walked the riverbank shops. I stopped for lunch in a local pub, grilled oysters, and crab cakes. Jiminy cricket, they were fine! More walking and shopping, the guided trolley tour, and spending the day enveloped in history. Dinner was in a local Italian restaurant a block from my hotel. The bread was a mythical experience.

The next day, the conference started. I had been invited to give the keynote address to the State of Georgia’s Council of Administrators of Special Education (G-CASE). I was honored to tell this group of over 500 people about the transformation of Red River Parish Schools and how this administration has taken a school system of little hope to a system with two “A” schools and an elementary school climbing the mountain to success. I love to tell the story. I love to give shout-outs to the outstanding teachers, vocational staff, administrators, and Directors who initiated this work and continue to push each day for the betterment of every child in this parish. This day was filled with teaching and learning and using the time to network with people from all over Georgia.

The next day was travel home day. I started early, 4:30 a.m. Of course, I would gain an hour by crossing into central time. This time, I had time to stop and see some sights. I decided that I would take the back roads. Very little interstate, if possible. My first stop was Tuskegee. Butler Chapel and Tuskegee Airmen historical sites were the mission. I then traveled through Selma, Alabama. I stopped at the bridge there. I wanted to take in the historical atmosphere of the place. I also stopped once for a little bit of picking. It is hard for me to pass a good flea market when it is right by the roadside. Another Christmas present was checked off the list.

The trip home was 15 ½ hours in length. I did not mind. I like the slow pace. I like to see places I have read about but never visited. It makes me feel a connection to the history of this country. It is not always a pretty history and certainly not always easy to experience, but it is our history and needs to be acknowledge.