We be leaving Savannah, Georgia, leaving the parsley hawthorne, sweet gum and swamp oaks for a drier clime. Our job at Savannah Oaks RV Resort (“resort” is a stretch) was like working a park that had never had a map. A competitor had done the park the last few years. Didn’t do a very good job: They took an ad from Savannah Christian Church and put a pinpoint on the map to locate the church, but when you got there the location was actually the Catholic Church. Some hard feelings over that one. It was a hard sell, but we did okay. Next year will be even better.
The park neighbors the original Savannah-Ogeechee Canal, built in 1831 to carry cotton, lumber, etc. from inland to the port of Savannah. It isn’t used anymore, but in true southern tradition, stretches of it are maintained and have a nice walking path. The Ogeechee River is very dark and lazy and narrow where it comes through the park, but a little bit down the road it goes under I-95 as a good-sized, pretty river. They fish for red breast, bass, catfish and shad. I found a sign, broken and face down at the dock in the park: “No swimming! GAITER!”
The bird nests are disappearing as the trees leaf out. The pollen count is off the scale. Dogwood is blooming and wisteria is popping purple as it vines up into the pine trees. Planter boxes are full of cyclamen and snapdragons; pansies are a ground cover. We have identified the mulch we see all around: it is cypress bark, chipped and treated with a bright rosy orange color. The chain gangs are all their tether, wandering down the ditches and the medians, picking up litter. No horses anymore, just a guy in a bus following them with a gun.
Bumper sticker: WWBD (What would Bubba do?)
I sold an ad to a guy they call Boss Hawg the other day. I just called him Boss. The sales contact went something like this”
Mr. …uh…Boss, my name is Sam Swan. I’m staying at Savannah Oaks RV Resort, helping them with a new site map. We’d like to refer park visitors to you when they need tires. Can I show you the map?
Sy-am? Huh. Savannah Oaks? Huh. I disremember that park.
Sam shows a mockup of the map, shows location of the park, etc. Tells Mr. Boss that tire dealers do very well on RV park maps.
Ah don’t sayell Arvee tars.
No, I’m talking auto, truck tires. The RVs are all towing a vehicle and there are lots of 5th wheels in this park. The park owner says she quite often gets asked to recommend a tire store.
Huh. Ah got truck tars.
There you go!
Way-ell, come on back ‘here, darlin’. I guess we might could do sum bidiness.
We go to his office, a small room with every surface, walls, desk, covered in paper – invoices, old, new, calendars, old, new, posters, old, business cards, receipts, etc. Boss Hawg, looking sort of like Jackie Gleason in overalls, says, How much this gone cost me?
$468 for a full panel for one year.
GREAT LORDAGAWD, WOMAN, I cain’t do that! HUH. Mmmmmm. Huh.
Well, Sir, I can make you a smaller ad for less money, or what about sharing a big ad with your neighbor? That will just be $234 each.
Wull … Ah own the likker store next door.
Boss, to combine the liquor store with your tire store will be even better. This park has a high percentage of Canadians here for 2-3 months at a time. You’ll have the only liquor store on the map. Shall I write it up?
Shoot, darlin’ uh …okay … huh.
Boss Hawg loved the ad Dave made him for Boss Hawg’s Liquors and Harrison Tires. He even allowed as how he might could use the ad for the newspaper. Huh.
Not always an intellectual pursuit, this job, but very rewarding if you enjoy people and like the challenge of sales. Both Dave and I are getting better, but still have a hard time understanding people when they talk. And it’s not just the black people; the white people also talk mushy. I’m reminded of a guy I knew when I worked at the mill. Jim was a skinny guy from Georgia, completely forgettable (if you don’t count the fact that he spent time in the Big House for incest) except for the way he talked. He punctuated every sentence with “Enayouthin,” It translates to “and everything.” He used it like the kids say, “you know,” and I remember being fascinated, watching his mouth like I could see the words come out.
I wrote this yesterday. We got into our new park in late afternoon, so we’re off and running on a new job. General Coffee State Park is the home of the endangered gopher turtle and the indigo snake. This is our third year here, and Wally and Mary, the camp hosts from Ottawa greeted us by saving us the best space. Judy Peacock is still at the front desk at the ranger station, even though our favorite manager, Sim Davidson, has left to take a job at Little Ocmulgee State Park, up the road. Whoever thought we would get to know the Georgia State Park personnel so well!
Love to all,
P.S. We’re adding a couple of pictures. One is of me and my new ride (I wish). The other is a drawing done by Katie Swan, age 7, of Xander sleeping. I promise I won’t add any more of our grandkids’ artwork, but this one just made us laugh so hard we have to share it.
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