Read The Sweetest Thing Online
Authors: Elizabeth Musser
The Sweetest Thing (38 page)
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Dobbs had once said to me, “Imagine that you are part of something big and wonderful, Perri. Imagine that you are going to help feed all the poor people in Atlanta.”
I guess she said it to her aunt, too, because every Sunday night from June until October of that year, the Chandlers opened their home to the poor. Anna made the most delicious food, with Parthenia's help, of course. Dellareen and Mamma and Mae Pearl and I went to help tooâwe wanted to because of Dobbs's stories. Mrs. Clark brought over some of the residents from the Alms Houses, and other poor people from the streets came, too, and Cornelius built a dozen long picnic tables, and we'd sit under the trees by the lake, everyone eating together, and I'd take my photos of what Dobbs called reality.
We didn't get the house backâeventually, I realized I didn't want it, with all the horror of what had happened thereâbut nice folks bought the house, and every once in a while, in the evening, when the fireflies were out, Irvin and I would sneak over and sit on the grass and count the stars.
Epilogue
Perriâ1939
If I had not met Dobbs during that hard time in my life, I don't know if I would have pursued photography in the same way. I do know that, because of her, I stepped outside of my world into another, following in the footsteps of Dorothea Lange. Philip helped me a lot, and he even encouraged me with a special dream I had, born from my days at the Alms Houses. From April of 1936 to May of 1937, I lived among the poor, tracking the people caught up in the Dust Bowl and others of whom Dobbs had spoken.
When my first book of photos was published in the summer of 1939, I knew who I wanted to receive the first copy, and so I set out with that book and my camera, leaving Philip to care for our photography store in Atlanta, and our little boy, Dobbson.
In a dusty town in the heat of July, I found her. I would have known her anywhere, that long black hair falling in gentle waves to her waist. Two small children were playing around her legs, and her Hank was talking to a farmer, one of the Oakies, I do believe. From far away I took the picture. It will always be one of my favorites.
Almost as if she sensed the snap of my shutter, she looked around, and then her eyes flew open wide, and she began screaming and running toward me.
I put down my camera and the book, and we grabbed each other and swung around, crying and laughing all at the same time.
“I found you.”
“You found me.”
“We're both doing what we were created to do, aren't we, Dobbs?”
She beamed at me. “Yes. Yes, we are. Come see Hank, and meet my boys.”
I handed her my photo book. “This is for you.”
She read the title, “
Hands of Time.
” Then she ran her fingers across the cover photograph, the one I had taken all those years ago of Mae Pearl's and Mr. Ross's hands. “Oh, Perri, it's mighty fine.”
When she opened the book, she read my dedication:
To Dobbs,
who first showed me that the eye is the window to the soul.
Acknowledgments
When we moved my dear grandmother (now 97) from her apartment to a full-care floor in her retirement home in Atlanta, my parents found Grandmom's diaries from 1928â1932. I was, of course, eager to take a look. Thanks to my brother, Jere, who scanned all those diary entries, I was able to read them over here in France.
The diaries sealed the fate of my next novel: I'd write about 1930s Atlanta and specifically the life of two girls attending Washington Seminary (the real-life girls' school my grandmother attended that was eventually incorporated into The Westminster Schoolsâthe school I attended).
As I researched that era and heard stories of how both the wealthy and the disadvantaged survived the Great Depression, I found my characters asking the question that I have asked (and heard asked) time and again: Does God provide in the midst of difficult circumstances?
Twenty years on the mission field watching Him provide for my family in original, creative ways lets me answer the question with a resounding “Yes!” But I have learned that the
way
in which He provides is as important as the provisionâand that it is
His
way, not mine.
“The steadfast love of the
Lord
never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. âThe
Lord
is my portion, says my soul, therefore I will hope in him.' ” Lamentations 3:22â24 (
esv
)
I'm indebted to the following people for helping me understand what Atlanta was like in the 1930s:
Ladies who attended Washington Seminary: Beverly Dobbs Mitchell, Nan Pendergrast, and of course, my grandmother, Allene Massey Goldsmith, and Pat Ham, who attended Girls High.
Irvin McDowell Massey
:
my great-uncle, who provided fun little tidbits about Grandmom and confirmed that she was indeed the “girl of a thousand dates!”
Cathy Kelley: assistant archivist at The Westminster Schools, who opened up the archives to me on more than one occasion and provided me with very helpful information.
Two books about Atlanta provided invaluable help with my research:
The Poor Houses
by Henry M. Hopeâthanks to Jim Hughes for suggesting the book to me.
Buckhead
by Susan Kessler Barnard
As always, I'm grateful for the support of my family, all of you: Jere and Barbara Goldsmith; Jere and Mary Goldsmith, Katie, Chip, and Chandler; Glenn and Kim Goldsmith, Will, Peter, and Jonathan; Alan and Jay Goldsmith, Elise and Kate; and the whole Musser clan.
In a novel about friendship, I cannot skip over the important role so many friends have played in my life and my writing career: again to Val, Marmar, Kimmie, and Laâthere are many “winks” in this story for you girls. Also a heart full of love and thanks to other dear friends: Heather Myers, Trudy Owens, Odette Beauregard, Cathy Carmeni, Cheryl Stauffer, Lori Varak, Marlyse Francais, Michele Philit, Dominique Cottet, Marcia Smartt, LB Norton and the list goes on. I am incredibly blessed with your friendships!
Thanks to Cheryl Stauffer, Cathy Carmeni, and Bob Dillon, who once again looked over a manuscript when it was at its roughest (and longest) and said ever so kindlyâ“Shorten it!”
I am so fortunate to work with a great group of people at Bethany House: A special
Merci
to Dave Horton for continuing to believe in me and my stories and offer adviceâ“You need to cut out 40,000 words”âand encouragement. And a big thanks to my new editor, Karen Schurrerâit's been a joy to work together. Somehow you made deleting all those words less painful! To the rest of youâbless you, bless you for all you do.
My agent, Chip MacGregor, is amazingâsupplying me with wise counsel, a listening ear, timely information on the business side of writing, and lots of encouragement along the way.
My dear readersâI cannot adequately express my gratitude that, in this age of fast-paced
everything
, you took the time to pick up this novelâin whatever form you choseâand read my story. I pray it was worth it!
My husband, PaulâI'm so thankful we get to step into our new ministry adventure togetherâyour love and support and wonderful good humor and joy keep me going. I am filled up to overflowing with your love. You are the best gift I have ever received.
Our sons, Andrew and Chrisâhow did you get to be young adults? I am incredibly proud of you and thankful for your faith and courage and sense of adventure, as well as for your love and encouragement. Thank you, Andrew, for choosing such a wonderful wife. Welcome to the Musser clan, Lacy!
And finally, thank you to my Lord, who inspires and guides me daily. The longer I live and journey with You, the more I learn that Your love is truly the sweetest thing.
* * * *
Historical Note:
The Alms Houses, located in what is now known as Chastain Park, are still in use. The White Alms House has become Galloway School and the Black Alms House, the Chastain Arts Center. The Savannah School of Art and Design in Atlanta is housed on the original Washington Seminary property. The girls at Washington Seminary did not wear uniforms.
The book,
Patches from the Sky,
as portrayed in the novel, does not exist. However, I have a little light blue, hard-covered book called
Patches from the Sky
that is a collection of poems written by my great-grandmother, Elizabeth Fitten Goldsmith. For many years, when I was a child, that little volume inspired me to keep writing poetry.
The Singleton, Dillard, and Chandler families, and all other characters, except those of known historical importance, are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons alive or dead is purely coincidental.
But . . . if you look around Buckhead, you just may be able to figure out where the Chandlers and Singletons lived all those years ago (in my imagination, of course!).
Merci!
ELIZABETH GOLDSMITH MUSSER, an Atlanta native and the bestselling author of
The Swan House,
is a novelist who writes what she calls “entertainment with a soul.” For over twenty years, Elizabeth and her husband, Paul, have been involved in missions work with International Teams. They presently live near Lyon, France. The Mussers have two sons and a daughter-in-law.
The Sweetest Thing
is Elizabeth's eighth novel.
To learn more about Elizabeth and her books, and to find discussion questions as well as photos of sites mentioned in the stories, please visit
www.elizabethmusser.com
.
Books by Elizabeth Musser
From Bethany House Publishers
The Sweetest Thing
Words Unspoken
The Swan House
The Dwelling Place*
Searching for Eternity*
Other Books
Two Crosses
Two Testaments
Two Destinies**
*available as e-books only
**coming in 2012
