Born in Strathnairn, in Invernesshire, Scotland, in 1719, Lachlan McGillivray (or M'Gillivray) belonged to the ancient Scottish Clan Chattan, traditionally headed by the McIntosh family.
As a follow up to last week's column, here are some details about the new restaurant that will be opening on East Main, as well as the restaurant/dance club that is slated to open just off of West Main.
It is about a mile to the top of the mountain. The trail is rocky and narrow, so narrow that two people cannot walk side-by-side. In late summer the thick canopy of trees offers little in the way of shelter from the fleece-like heat, but a few of the trees have already started dropping leaves, most of them red, like paper napkins blown off a picnic table.
According to Acts 2, Jews from every "nation" converged on Jerusalem and received the gift of the Holy Spirit. The amazing and remarkable happening was that although these foreigners were speaking the language of their native lands, those Aramaic-speaking Jews could understand every word. This was not remotely similar to the Glossolalia of I Corinthians 14. In other words, everyone heard the alien languages and needed no translation. The gift of God's Spirit was both sight and sound.
Last Thursday night, my two daughters and I went to the Coconut Thai Cuisine restaurant in the College Plaza shopping center located at the corner of Fair Road and Zetterower Avenue. Every time I go in there, I appreciate what it takes to make a restaurant "go."
I still remember the time when I was a young man growing up in Huntington, West Virginia - that's west - attending Fifth Avenue Baptist Church and hearing the newly-appointed pastor from just plain Virginia say, "Anyone in here who begins reading that new revised standard version of the Bible will go to hell and should resign this church immediately!" Since he and most folks were raised on the old King James edition, he could not understand the scholarship and accuracy that the RSV provided, especially since it differed significantly in language and translation.
Major Joseph Habersham, a Savannahian, was born on July 28, 1751 to James Habersham and Mary Bolton. His father, James, filled in for Royal Governor Sir James Wright when he was in England.
There are only a handful of guys in Georgia Southern's offense who have any real, in-game experience playing college football, fewer that have played their current position before and, by the way, only one quarterback has any in-game experience at all.
I am sure that we are all pretty used to seeing the little signs that are posted next to the road advertising everything from apartment rentals to candidates seeking political office. In fact, they have become "old hat", and frankly I don't pay much attention to them anymore, in most cases.
Probably just about everybody has seen one. They're very common-place, and, as far as I know, can be seen just about anywhere in the world. Some are more complete in their development, but they're all beautiful. Conditions have to be just right, but it's the conditions that make them such wonderful reminders.
Start across the Sidney Lanier Bridge from either direction and, just before you reach the crest, you will become convinced that you are going to drive straight into the sky. On a hot July day - when white puffy clouds approach like meringues, seductive with soporific sweetness, clouds that look like the blow-up slides used to rescue passengers from airplanes - that's exactly what you want to do.
William Few Jr. was born in Baltimore, Md., on June 8, 1748 to William Few and Mary Wheeler. They were poor tobacco farmers, and along with many of their neighbors became bankrupt because of a series of droughts.
I have always wondered if a caveman - most likely a cave woman - just missing being eaten by a T-Rex, hummed a tune and that was the beginning of music. I am not sure if he or she had words to the tune like, "I'm so glad that the big lizard ate she and not me … dum ditty dum." Don't get me going on what I think the first "rock" band resembled.
Every summer, I am reminded just how important Georgia Southern has become to Statesboro and the prosperity of its full time residents. Things clearly slow down here in the summer months, and business owners will admit that it can be a struggle.
I got a plaque in the mail the other day.
A flock of blackbirds covers the field. Two hundred, maybe. Silent and still before rising, as though at the lift of some unseen maestro's baton, into the air in one loud flap like a bleached sheet on a clothesline. I watch and listen and shiver. Blackbirds. Sign of cold weather.
Michael Kaas is a young man who recently posted a petition on Change.org in protest of local police enforcing laws regarding underage drinking. He complains that arresting Georgia Southern students is ruining their lives.
Q: My 23-month-old son does well with potty training when we're at home. We use a "potty bell" and he goes every 90 minutes or so. When we're away from home, however, he seems clueless. He pees in his car seat about 5 minutes into a trip and simply will not use a potty anywhere but at our home or at my mother's (she watches him one day a week at her place). Would pull-ups be a bad thing to use when we leave the house?
Mr. Jones, the owner of a small farm on the coast, advertised for a hired hand. But people were hesitant about working on farms in the area out of fear of the terribly destructive storms that so often threatened buildings, crops and the lives of both people and animals. Consequently, the farmer found it almost impossible to hire anyone to help him with the work.
It's mid-morning on a sunny Saturday, after a satisfying brunch and visit to my local farmers' market. Dressed completely casually with nowhere to be, I stroll along East Main Street in downtown Statesboro to find an inviting sidewalk chalkboard and the doors open wide at CAKE Bakery and Cool Beanz Espresso Bar. Upon entering, I discover much more than cupcakes and caffeine. Here two kindred spirits - one culinary artist and one head coffee geek - have joined forces to make their dreams a reality.
(Note: The following is part of a series of articles looking at the growth of roads and transportation in Georgia and Bulloch County beginning in 1807.)