There’s a Web site called StoodThere where you can vote on the 100 Greatest Places to Stand. You can vote on the 100 greatest spots to stand in the United States or in the world.
Now, if it’s a good place to sit, such as Booger Bottom Country Club, or lie down, such as any beach, anywhere, forget about it. This is a contest for people with comfortable shoes.
I was disappointed that between Georgia and Alabama, there was only one spot to stand in the top 100 — Oglethorpe Square in Savannah, a fine choice indeed.
But I can think of many other places in my home state worthy of the list: the pier at St. Simons Island, the second-floor balcony of the Windsor Hotel in Americus, Dowdell’s Knob at Pine Mountain, Troy’s Snack Shack in Montezuma and the lawn section of Lakewood Amphitheatre during a Jimmy Buffett concert just to name a few.
So, perhaps 100 places in America is just a little too vast an area to cover fairly. As would be the 100 best places to stand in Georgia. This kind of thing needs to be narrowed down. That’s why I’ve come up with the best places to stand in my old stomping grounds of Possum Holler. Here are just a few:
Ÿ The middle of the Flint River, where there’s actually a current — unless a few congressmen from Georgia get their way and dam it up so Atlanta can get its greedy, grubby hands on more water.
Ÿ Outside Billie Jo Hickey’s bedroom window after she became the first girl in sixth grade to sprout breasts. Her female classmates thought she had an unfair advantage because she was 15 years old, but we didn’t care. Neither did my cousin Hank, her next-door neighbor, who sold tickets for the shows. He did fairly well, too. He retired at age 13.
Ÿ In the front yard when the skeeter truck came by. They used to spray poison to kill the skeeters and we kinda liked the smell of the toxic cloud. And it had no effect on us. But a lot of our kids have extra fingers. Don’t feel sorry for them; they can play the piano like nothing you’ve ever seen.
Ÿ In anyone’s backyard at night. Instead of city lights, we had fireflies and stars to admire. For you city folks, stars are like little streetlights in the sky, without poles attached.
Ÿ In the middle of my Grandma’s kitchen when she was frying up some deliciously unhealthy chicken. Grandma’s gone. So’s the house and the kitchen. But I’d bet the smell of that fried chicken lingers even today.
Ÿ Home plate at Jim Bob Green Field. Actually, home plate was a trash can lid. And it was a far better place to stand than to run because you could get tripped up in all that kudzu.
Ÿ And, outside Billie Jo Hickey’s bedroom window, nearly 30 years later. She still puts on quite a show, only now my nephew Hank Jr. sells the tickets. And, with good reason. Billie Jo’s still the prettiest girl in the sixth grade.
ContactChris Johnsonat firstname.lastname@example.org or 706-320-4403.