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Garage Sale Gold isn’t always something you buy…

So the other Saturday morning I did what I do many Saturday mornings, which is go to ‘garage’ sales in my neighborhood. I really don’t need anything badly enough to go more than a few blocks away from my house. But I do usually find just what I need. This lazy morning (I did not get out til 8ish, but since I begin work at 3AM during the week, I’ve begun to covet my sleep on the weekends) I went to the sale closest to my house, located on a tree shaded thourough fare that is particularly pleasant to drive on when the temperature and humidity combine to make an early August morning seem like high noon. The home itself turned out to be a favorite of mine, neat red brick with a green grassy yard, the type I would never willingly choose to be responsible for.

The first items I laid eyes on when I walked in the front door were two old church directories! Exactly what I am looking for at a sale- usually what has already been tossed into Big Blue. In the dim, cool, interior, among the few clean, thick rugs and odd pieces of furniture remaining was a nearly new bed comforter its bag, another item I had been hoping to spy- $2.00 ! When I showed the directories to the sale-ers, they asked, puzzled, “Why do you want those? You should talk to my mother, her dad owned the Dixie Sherman. “ Well, of course I was extra delighted, since everyone is facinated with the Old Dixie Sherman Hotel. When I was doing ‘The Cove’, so many people I approached for stories or photographs said, “ Oh I have a wonderful picture of the Dixie Sherman!” You know that place we so enthusiastically imploded back in ‘71 that we miss terribly now? Well, never mind…

As I introduced myself to a lovely 70-something woman, her granddaughter in law said,” This is Lindel Obert, she’s 93 years old.” (!) This is one attractive family! I asked her what she thought of the sale (of her belongings.) Even disconcerted as she admitted to being, she was as trim and erect and bright eyed as many harassed 40 something moms I, ahem, know. She then launched into the obviously much requested tale of her family’s time at the Christmas plantation in Graceville, which was the setting of a greedy, grisly patricide. I did remember that the PC news Herald had done a feature on the murder. (LINK) Miss Lindel described to me that, “Of course, the blood always returned. There’s nothing you can do about that, of course, it always comes back.” Now if I had made that up, I could have a best selling book on my hands, and where would Cracker Cat be then? In fact, Miss Lindel says she has a friend that does encourage her to write a book, and I had to agree with the friend. I mean how many people do you come across who can say they slept in the room in the Christmas plantation with blood on the wall,("of course they papered over it, but blood always comes back...") their daddy owned the Dixie Sherman, and Shell Island?

The way she told it to me was that during The Boom, (the 1920s, for you young or uninitiated) her Uncle Wiley (!) told her Daddy, “We need to go down to Panama City and invest some of this money.” You see Mr Rob Cain, Lindel’s father, had done well farming peanuts up in the country (the stories moved fluidly from Campbellton, to Graceville to Chipley, as did many farmers of the time.) So Rob Cain and Uncle Wiley, a lawyer, went down to Panama City and began some expert mule trading. Mr Cain did indeed own the brand new Dixie Sherman for a day before selling it to the next lucky customer, then buying and selling Shell Island the next. By the end of the week, they began to settle down to dollars, making $5000. a day before they decided to come back home to the up country and get back to the business of farming and lawyering. Miss Lindel’s only regret was that she didn’t keep any of the deeds, declaring that they never did know what they would have done with Shell Island if they’d kept it, vastly preferring the money in stead.

Miss Lindel has retired to the now historic Lisenby Retirement Center,where she is surrounded with old family photographs, some already hung on the wall, and she was kind enough to share her picture album with us.

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Posted on Aug 21, 2007 - 07:01 AM by Jeannie Weller
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About Me

I was born into the middle of The Strip in 1960s Atlanta, Georgia. I was educated in Fayetteville, Georgia and at Georgia Southern College (now University) in Statesboro. I moved with my family to Panama City, Florida in 1999. My two daughters and I have enjoyed exploring the beaches, the Downtown Library, and all of our neighbors' attics and cupboards. I think writing is like pulling teeth but I can't do anything else, and that... not too well. I love looking at pictures and especially old ones, so if you have any, send me a COPY and tell me about it and I'll share it with my readers. Tell everyone you know about this blog, and ya'll come back now, hear?

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