April 30, 2012--Hinesville, GA

North of Tallahassee, desperate to have breakfast at almost any place other than a Dunkin Donuts, we found our way to Thomasville, Georgia, which Rona said she knew about because they are famous for roses.

There's not much to see except, as advertised, the town is festooned with roses. I looked it up--more than 7,000 bushes are stuffed into every available front and side yard. Quite a display in this otherwise basic place that has seen better times. Like much of rural Georgia and the South more generally.

But we did find a terrific roadside place for breakfast. Henderson's which has been there since 1949, established--if that's the word for it--by Roy Henderson, an ex-GI who, when other things failed after he returned from WW II, set up a stand and started selling coffee and donuts.

The neon sign from that era flashed on and off--

Welcome

Good Food  Good Friends

Good Times . . .

Years later Roy added eggs, country breakfast meats, and fancied things up just a little bit. The rest is history.

Rona, for example, had their egg and sausage casserole. It was so good I ate half of it in addition to wolfing down my own fried eggs with bacon, grits, and of course a couple of homemade biscuits. As Michelin would say--"Worth a detour."

Other than that, there was not that much to see--half the places were boarded up--and having Beaufort, SC as our destination we pushed on diagonally across Georgia.

A couple of hours later, after driving through pine forests--many clear cut for their lumber--and fields of spring grain, we got to Hinesville, which presented a vivid contrast to the "City of Roses."

Not only was there every conceivable food franchise from Pizza Hut to Chili's to Taco Bell--all packed--but new car dealerships, thriving real estate offices, banks, men's and women's clothing stores, and at least a half dozen real restaurants.

"What's going on here?" Rona was confused. "The surrounding land looks the same and I didn't see any large assembly plants. Nothing apparent that would bring about all this prosperity."

"I'm confused too. We're still sort of in the middle of nowhere."

"Another strange thing," Rona said. "Did you notice that all the billboards for the banks and car dealerships have pictures of soldiers in them?"

"I did see that."

"There's a road sign over there," she pointed toward the north. "Fort Stewart. That must be it. We've seen this in many parts of the country, especially in the deep south. Military bases all over the place. Parris Island, for example, is right near Beaufort, where we'll be stopping tonight. And I know tommorrow we'll be passing by Fort Bragg in North Carolina."

"I'm sure you're right," I said, "I don't know anything about Fort Stewart, but it must be quite a place to make the local economy so vibrant."

"Quite the stimulus program, no?"

"What do you mean?"

"Isn't Fort Stewart a government-financed program? Aren't all the troops federal employees?  Why is it OK to have this kind of stimulus program but not one to fix up all the terrible roads we've spent two days driving on? By the time we get to New York we'll need to get our wheels aligned again."

"Good point. But I thought we agreed not to talk politics while on the road. To keep us from getting aggravated. Leave the aggravation to the traffic and crazy driving."

On the other side of town, the very-different-looking African-American side, we pulled off the road to gas up, see if they sold bottled water, and, Rona said, to buy some Mega Millions and Lotto Tickets. "This is just the exact kind of place where winning tickets are sold. When was the last time anyone in New York City ever won $40 million?"

"Only on Wall Street," I said.

Rona groaned.

"I'll follow you inside," I said. "I need to make a pit stop."

"This is some place," Rona said when I reappeared.

"Did you get you lottery tickets?"

"I did. But look over there where they're selling them." She nodded toward what looked like a huge dinner table. One that could handle a family of at least ten. Every chair was filled and it was covered by stacks of lottery forms which people were furiously filling out. No one was saying a word, they were so focused and intent on what they were doing.

"Look at that." This time she was pointing to a huge cork bulletin board. On it were posted news and pictures of people from the area who had purchased lottery tickets there who won one or five or ten thousand dollars.

"No Mega millionaires, yet," Rona said, "But there's room for my picture. Though, to be honest, I'd feel guilty winning Wednesday's $40 million with a ticket from here."

"Let's worry about that next week I said. "We need to hit the road. We have another 250 miles of driving and I'm already pooped."

Later in the day I googled Fort Stewart and found that it's the largest military installation east of the Mississippi. There are more than 12,000 troops and the families housed on the base and these men and women of the 3rd Infantry Division support another 33,500 in Hinesville itself--all those Taco Bells, banks, and car dealerships. I further learned that it was the staging area for the invasion of Cuba during the Missile Crisis and after the threat was resolved President Kennedy visited to thank the troops for their efforts.

And, I discover, President and Michele Obama had been there the day before to sign an executive order to protect veterans' education benefits. (See linked article from the Savannah Morning News).

"I'm sure," Rona said, "the townsfolks there were having a hot time Friday night at Pizza Hut."

"And at Rosenhof's German Restaurant," I said, "It gets 4 1/2 stars on Trip Advisor."

PS--Rona didn't win the $40 million.