Wash Your Hands
Lately, I have been walking. I try to go for a couple of miles, in the morning before the heat becomes obnoxious. Today, I went out New Peachtree, until the MARTA line goes overhead, and I can walk under to another Peachtree. … The spell check suggestion for Peachtree is Peacekeeper.
This is the last remnants of Peachtree Road, before it collides with Peachtree Boulevard. Many oldtimers still say Peachtree Industrial, which has a fifties retro feel to it.
When you cross the road, you find a sidewalk in front of Peachtree Country Club. During the MARTA construction era, my mother was fond of saying that the golf course was willed to the Catholic Church in perpetuity. Of course, a few feet were shaved off to accomodate another lane on Peachtree.
A few hundred yards down the sidewalk, I came to a half eaten bagel, a fork, a plastic box lined with old food, and a lid for a box. I carry plastic bags in my pack, and I got one for this detritous. There is not a trash can between here and the school dumpster. The bag will be full when I get there.
There is a law in Georgia. Whenever you hear someone say “wish” in a sentence, you are required to say a bit of commodity wisdom. “You can shit in one hand, and wish in the other, and see which hand gets full faster.” You should wash your hands no matter whether you hope or defecate.
There is a more useful version. You can wish in a plastic bag. Or, you can pick up trash, and put it in the plastic bag. One bag will get full before the other. Washing your hands is still a good idea. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress.






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