Cabbages and kitsch

What a day for tourism.  We had lunch in Helen, Georgia.  Now, if you were a Georgia mill town slowly dying, would it occur to you that remaking the entire town into a Bavarian village would put you on the tourist map?  Well, if it did, you would be correct.  We are in the foothills of the Appalachians, so the terrain does support this crazy little town’s aspirations, and they thoughtfully stretch the calendar to make this already time for Oktoberfest.  You just give up, enjoy the kitsch and have lunch.  There are wurst places to be.

There was cabbage on the menu in Helen, but that reference was totally eclipsed by our visit to Cleveland, Georgia. Never heard of that either?  Well, this is sacred ground to the lovers of Cabbage Patch dolls, and home to Babyland General, the hospital where all Cabbage Patch babies are born.  We were privileged to watch two births.  Both were natural, thank goodness, so no need for a “C” section.  Don got to hold the first baby – ahhhh – before it went into its bassinet. The second baby, however, was what they call “Planned Parenthood.”  She was already pledged to her adoptive mother, who was on 9-year-old pins and needles during the birth.  Once separated from her cabbage, the baby is whisked off to the nursery to have her vital signs taken and to be weighed and measured.  The new mommy got to name her and hold her right away, and it was sweet to see them bond.  “Flower Rose Kelly” will have a wonderful life.

I never really got Cabbage Patch dolls, but we are on a journey of learning and attitudes have to soften.  At the end, I found my very own bundle of joy lying right in a cabbage patch waiting for me to come along.  Happy day!  Thank you, Cabbage Patch!!

Have a great weekend.

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