"Five Oaks" at Harriett's Bluff on the Crooked River, about as far south as you can go and still be in Georgia

My mother bought this property with her own money from her job as a telephone operator with Southern Bell. It was a gift to her parents.

My grandmother, Bombombia, called it Five Oaks, for the special live oak cluster that grew there, and she fought with Georgia Power to keep the trees. We sat out under the trees at night and the light would draw in beetles, which Granddaddy would catch to feed to the circle of waiting frogs.

My grandparents would light a smoke pot using moss to keep bugs away, as the original inhabitants of this country did. Granddaddy's cigar smoke curled around his fedora. Bombombia rocked me and sang Shall We Gather at the River.

Once I was outside in this yard with my mother, and she was a short distance away. I think she was unloading the car. I thought I must be a pretty cute teenage girl when I saw a carload of boys slowing down, their heads swiveling. One of them leaned out and said to me, while pointing at my mother, "Who is that?"