When I was a teenager, my father worked for Former President Jimmy Carter. Or, as he was at that time, Governor Carter. I never actually met him, but my father, who was (at that time) an agent with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation, spoke highly of him as a person. Not so much as a boss. I won’t get into old gossip, but I’ll only say that when I voted for the first time as an 18-year-old, the choices were between Mr. Carter and his opponent, I voted for “the other guy.” I really had no sense then as to whether I leaned more to the left or to the right, I only knew I didn’t believe, based on life experiences, that Mr. Carter had what it took to be a good choice for president.
However, being from Georgia and having moved to Southwest Georgia, living there for quite a few years (nearly 2 decades before we moved to FL), I do have a funny President Carter story.
A few years after the Carter presidency, my husband and I decided to take a little break and go to Plains (where Jimmy and Rosalyn had lived before DC and where they then returned to). The plan was to stay at a lovely B&B there and then come home the next day. We just needed a night away from the kids and Plains was close by. So the kids went to Nana’s and the hubs and I went to Plains.
When I called to make a reservation at the B&B, we were asked if we would attend church on our departure day. I thought that an odd question, but said that no, we wouldn’t be going to church but would head straight back to the kiddos after checkout time.
When we arrived at the sprawling, two-story B&B, we checked in and the wife of the husband-and-wife team of proprietors called out to her husband, “Honey! The Eversons are here. They’re the ones NOT going to church tomorrow.” Again . . . odd. I so wanted to say, “We are Christians . . . we go to a nice church in Albany . . . ” but I didn’t.
As we climbed the stairs to our room, the wife told us that Jimmy’s parents (Miss Lillian and Mister Jimmy Senior who was known by his middle name, Earl) had once lived in the house when it was a boarding house and that the room we were staying in had been their room. Cool.
The next morning, after a restful day just putzing around Plains and a full night’s sleep, we went down to breakfast. There were a few other couples sitting around the elegant table. “So, you’re the couple not going to church,” they said. Again . . . odd . . . Finally, one of them said, “With such a rare opportunity, why aren’t you going to church?”
I thought, what rare opportunity? Christians in America can go to church anytime they please!
And then, at about the same time, it dawned on Dennis and me . . . noted by an outburst of laughter. President Carter taught Sunday school at one of the local churches. His class, we were later told, averaged over 150 per Sunday.
We hadn’t brought our “Sunday best,” so we headed on back home thinking we’d return one day. Sadly, we never did. So, while we missed the opportunity to hear a former president of the United States teaching from the Holy Writ, we did sleep in Miss Lillian’s and Mister Earl’s bedroom.
So, you know . . . there’s that . . .
Rest in peace, President Carter. Go rest high on that high mountain . . .
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