Usually I manage to get up to Dahlonega somewhere near either the Memorial day weekend, or the 4th of July. That’s not going to work out this year, and I’m sorry. I miss the mountains at this time. I miss riding through those small mountain towns.
Let me tell you what is so special about being there on those particular dates.
Ride through a small, north Georgia mountain town on Memorial weekend, or near the 4th of July, and you see something amazing and incredible. The streets are lined with small American Flags, and small white crosses. Each cross has a name on it. They are the names of residents of that town who have served overseas, in the armed forces of the United States of America. Each cross carries a name, and the name of the conflict. The Spanish American War, World War I, World War II, Korea, Vietnam, The first Gulf War, Afghanistan, Iraq. In Dahlonega, Elijay, Chatsworth, and other towns, the sight is the same.
The striking thing is, the numbers. These are small towns. Yet they have given so many to defend our country. And they remember them. It’s not a big flashy thing. It’s not showy. It’s just there.
After a long ride in the mountains, one comes back into the town, and the streets are lined with those names and flags. Suddenly, the spirit lifts. The bike gets lighter, and the chest swells. Chill bumps raise up on the arms. You can feel it. It’s a palpable thing. These small towns in the hills are places where this nation lives.
God Bless America. God Bless Georgia. God Bless all those sons and daughters of all those mountain towns.
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