Athens, Georgia and the young girl who kept it in her heart

No meandering through downtown Athens, Georgia on G-Day. No spontaneous camaraderie with other Georgia fans. Just stillness and memories to share.

With no sports going on right now, I find myself generally doing one of two things when I sit down to write. Either prognosticating what may happen should things get back into gear, to reaching back into my memories to talk about the “good ol’ days”.

Of course, when you’ve lived in Athens, Georgia and been a part of an institution like the University of Georgia, once you begin tapping into some of those memories it doesn’t take long for the floodgates to open.

Anytime I start thinking about my years in Athens — and for those of you who live there now, we’re talking over 30 years ago — there are, of course, a lot of memories that make me glad smartphones and social media weren’t around.

I could spin some harrowing tales of Drink-n-Drown nights that never ended at O’Malley’s, or Zoo Nights at T.K. Harty’s Saloon that somehow always seemed to end up face-down in East Campus. There were late-night excursions to Clocked for a gut-bullet of burgers and fries, or, if all else failed, a beer run to the closest Golden Pantry.

But that’s all just part of the college experience. The bar, restaurant, and convenience store names may change, but the rites of college life which generally include such shenanigans are the same on practically any university campus.

Athens, in all its rolling-hill beauty, is much more than the establishments that may come and go over the years. Athens is a state of mind that you find hard to shake even after you leave.

Some may think I speak from a position of bias – a one-time resident of a famous college town who hasn’t been able to let go of his fraternity jersey. I’m here to tell you that couldn’t be further from the truth.

I’ve lived in at least eight different towns or cities in Georgia, including right in the middle of midtown Atlanta. I’ve lived in states all up and down the east coast, as far south as Miami and as far north as Orono, Maine. I’ve been enrolled and on-campus at five different universities ranging from inner-city to large suburban campuses.

My career has also taken me to many other college campuses and towns, each with unique quirks and virtues (as well as hindrances), where I’ve sampled local cuisine, talked with both fans and fan-residents, and learned the lay of the land and the hidden treasures found within.

In all the places I’ve lived and visited, none even came close to what I feel when I’m in Athens.

The little girl who knew what Athens, Georgia is all about

The best story I can share to convey my adoration for this town happened on a spring night in 1986 following a rousing performance by the UGA Men’s Glee Club of which I was then a part, conducted by the late Dr. Pierce Arant (bless your memory, Coach).

After our performance in the recital hall of the old fine arts building (the haunted one that was originally constructed in 1941), I went on to my “day job” waiting tables at a local Shoney’s restaurant. A family of three — mom, dad and a young girl of maybe nine years old — was seated in my section and I scuffled over, still tired from a very long day of classes and performances, ready to take their order.

I was able to get out the words, “Hello, I’m Mike and I…” before the little girl interrupted me in the cute way that only little girls can.

“Hey I saw you singing!” she exclaimed with a big, half-toothless grin. I nodded in agreement, realizing she must have been at the concert with her family, but still trying to focus on the task at hand so that I could get through another unrewarding shift.

“I liked the Bulldog song,” she said as I tried to begin the ordering process again. Of course, I knew she was referring to our finale, The Bulldog Medley, when all former members of the glee club were invited to join on stage and sing in a long-standing tradition.

At that point, I knew a conversation with this anxious young lady was inevitable, so I lowered my pad and pen and played along.

Within minutes she told me of her desire to be a Bulldog and to play in the Redcoat Marching Band. How she always wanted to go to a game, but they could never get tickets, even demonstrating her mastery of the “Go Dawgs…woof woof woof woof” yell.

The other Shoney’s patrons, of course, applauded her spirit.

Eventually, I was able to take their order, and as I delivered food, drinks and did check-backs on the table, the little girl continued to profess her love of the University of Georgia and the Men’s Glee Club to me. Her energy was boundless and I think some of it thankfully poured into me.

Hey, we didn’t have Red Bull back then.

For nearly a year after that, the little girl and her family would regularly come into Shoney’s and request me as their server. It got to the point where I knew exactly what she’d want, right down to the extra two cherries atop her slice of hot fudge cake.

She was unstoppable. One of those kids without a filter who wanted to recite to you every detail of every story she ever knew. She could describe to you each cool thing she saw while strolling through downtown Athens with her parents, and all the great music she heard.

She brightened my day every time I saw her. She would regularly give me hugs when she left, and even gave me a hand-made Christmas ornament (a star cut out of construction paper) for my tree.

The last time I saw the family — when I told them I was moving out of Athens — the little girl took one of the kid’s menus and wrote me a note in red and black crayon.

“I will miss you mister Mike. Please come back again some day. Go dawgs”

I bawled. Right there in the middle of the dining room. This little girl’s gesture was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. I was already heartbroken at the idea of leaving the town which I’d fallen so in love with, and she just reached out and grabbed that heart and hugged it.

Then we all hugged goodbye. She cried. Her mother cried. Her father fought off some allergies, I think, and they left.

The thing is, even at her tender age, she got it. She had it in her heart and in her gut how special Athens really is. She already knew. She loved not just being a kid, but being a kid who lived in Athens, Georgia.

But what is it that makes Athens so special? The lush greenspaces? The picturesque campus? Sanford Stadium? The quaint downtown area? The music scene? The people? The perfect mix of small town and college town?

Yes. An emphatic yes to all of that and more.

There may not even be a way to effectively communicate what it is. Friends and relatives who I’ve taken to Athens have become immediately enamored with the town and the campus, usually beckoning some form of “see, I told you” from me.

I can draw an analogy from my own life.

The perfect whiskey mixes all the needed ingredients in just the right amounts. Nothing overpowers you and yet you’re able to taste every subtlety, every note — from the nose to the palate — and still feel like it offers more to for you to explore.

Athens is my perfect whiskey. Athens is the place for the connoisseur of such places. Someone with the most discriminating taste in habitat, culture, and bohemia. I miss it, and not just on football gameday.

Sometimes that two-hour drive to the Classic City seems eternal.

I saved the note but I never saw that little girl again. I don’t know if she grew up to be a Bulldog or not. I suspect that she did. Maybe she’ll read this and you’ll one day get to witness a warm, teary reunion 30-plus years in the making.

I know this. She embodied all the things I loved, and still love, about Athens and I thank her for always giving me a reminder of how special that town truly is.