With friends last month in Georgia, USA, I took a day trip to historic Milledgeville (Georgia’s state capital from 1804 – 1868).
I discovered the lovely summer-house of famous American author, Flannery O’Connor. Those living in the summer-house now put up with gawking tourists, and photographers capturing what? the place that fuelled Ms. O’Connor’s creativity?
I had my friend Ruth Walker’s first novel, Living Underground, with me so I sneaked up the brick steps to lean it on a pillar, and took a picture. Can I be forgiven for further stepping up to the door and touching the door knob for good luck, vaguely hoping Flannery’s inspired writing would rub off the worn brass knob?
Ms. O’Connor lived from 1925 – 1964, dying in Milledgeville. When I drove to the 7,800-grave cemetery that shows early slave graves, Civil War burials and family plots squared off within ornamental iron fences, I located her grave. Strangely, the grave attracts penny-tossing well wishers (for luck? like me touching the door knob?), rosary beads, and in a bizarre twist, my friend’s book.