[TPC] - The Story of Millsaps; Chapters I & II

The Piedmont Chronicles   

~ est. 2010 ~

[State of GA]
[Newton Co.]

The Story of Millsaps

Ch. I & II
By TPC Cont. Writer Ellis Millsaps 

*Ed. note: What follows is basically a familial history of his family that Ellis wrote several years back. Most of it centers on his parents, and his father in particular. Below are Chapters I & II. The rest will follow over the next few weeks. As always, thanks for reading! -MBM 

Chapter One: In which Doris gets her oats

The man Wallace Millsaps, known to thousands as Preacher Millsaps and whom his Appalachian relatives called “Wallus,” was born in the spring of 1909 in a log house built by Millsaps before him on Upper Jack's River in what is now the federally owned Cohutta Wilderness Preserve in Fannin County, near the Tennessee/ Georgia/ North Carolina line.

The spot where the cabin stood is fertile bottom land situated as high above sea level as such land could be in Georgia and is sometimes occupied by a U.S. Forrest Ranger station until miscreant locals burn it down again.



My father's parents Mount Aubrey and Lovey Jane Millsaps. 



His father, Mount Millsaps, and his mother, Lovey Jane, lived on a parcel of land that was part of a 4,000-acre tract of Cherokee Indian land “given” to a Thomas Millsaps by the State of Georgia for his service in the War of 1812.

My father's great-grandmother was a member of that tribe.
The entire Cohutta range was then owned by descendants of the men who had received the original land grants, most of whom were land rich and dirt poor, and almost all of whom lost their land to the government for inability to pay its taxes during the Great Depression.

[TPC] - Turkey Tsunami: A write-up by Contributor Ellis Millsaps

The Piedmont Chronicles   

~ est. 2010 ~

[State of GA]
[Newton Co.]

*Ed. note - Ellis actually wrote this last year. As I understand it, this year his Landlord gave him a gift certificate to Publix. Da is hoping that Jack can take him up there today to find a fresh turkey, or maybe a hen. Enjoy!

Turkey Tsunami

A write-up by Contributing Writer Ellis Millsaps 

~ Special to The Chronicles ~ 

You know you've finally reverted to your white trash origins when your landlord brings you a frozen turkey. 

I don't buy frozen turkeys. If I'm making that once a year feast, I buy a fresh one. 

So I'm a food snob, but I have this 15 pound block of frozen poultry with which to contend. 

I don't have an oven even large enough for this bird (ed.note: he doesn't have a working oven, only a toaster oven). I spend the two days that it's thawing pondering how to cook it. 

I decide to make gumbo. The gumbo which I usually make contains crab, crawfish, shrimp, oysters and cajun sausage; the ingredients cost around $50 but it feeds a hoard. 

And if you're making something which takes all day, you might as well make a lot. 

But this is to be "econogumbo." Since the turkey is free, all said I end up spending less than ten dollars.

I cut the bird up and put the dark meat in my crock pot and turn it on low; it barely fits. 12 hours later and I have the essence of turkey. I throw the meat and bones away.

Meanwhile I've roasted the breast in the toaster oven.

I use turkey fat to make the roux (another cost saver), then add my broth, cajun sausage, vegetables and seasonings. I let this simmer about an hour and then I shred up half the baked turkey breast and add it.

It made a lot. I ended up freezing most of it. So that was Thanksgiving for me. Three weeks later and I'm still eating on it. It's not bad.

Ellis was an attorney by trade (now recovering) but has worn many hats over the years: father, bus boy, stand-up comedian, novelist, wiffle ball player, rock'n'roll band manager, and at one time wrote a popular and funny column for The Covington News. A Fannin Co. mountain boy originally, Mr. Millsaps now stays at the mill village of Porterdale by way of 20 years in Mansfield. Usually funny and at times irreverent and subversive, he leans left in his political philosophy but can always be counted on for a pretty darn good write-up. The Chronicles are proud to have him involved. 

[tpc] - A Love Letter to Rachael: a write-up by contributing writer Ellis Millsaps

The Piedmont Chronicles   

~ est. 2010 ~

[State of GA]
[Newton Co.]

A Love Letter to Rachael 
By contributing writer Ellis Millsaps 

Special to The Piedmont Chronicles 

I have a crush on Rachael Maddow, and I hear some of the more informed of you saying, "wait a minute, Da, you're not going to bed Rachael Maddow. She's a lesbian."

Well...my crush on Rachael is no different from yours on Heather Locklear, Miley Cyrus, or Tom Cruise. My chances are just as good as yours. We're dealing with fantasy here, OK?

I've always had this thing for really clever brunettes - Audrey Hepburn, Kate Beckinsale, Grace Slick - and Rachael Maddow, beautiful and ever so slyly funny - she may be the smartest person on the planet. 

And that last is the biggest reason I'll never score with Rachael, not the avowed lesbianism, but rather the fact the she would see right through me in 2 seconds and acknowledge that cesspool of arrogance, ignorance, and bravado that is me.

Which is not to say I haven't done pretty well with beautiful brunettes. One's now the Poet Laureate of Newfoundland, two daughters of Harvard educated doctors are doing quite well for themselves, and let's not forget - I did wed the ridiculously beautiful Cynthia Bolkcom, who bore me two brilliant children with movie star good looks.

Who knows, Rachael? If you're out there listening somewhere, this just might happen. Get you drunk at a spend-the-night party? I'm not without a certain charm and I do have a definite feminine side. You can be the butch one... 


Ellis is an attorney by trade but has worn many hats over the years: father, bus boy, stand-up comedian, novelist, wiffle ball player, rock'n'roll band manager, and at one time wrote a popular and funny column for The Covington News. A Fannin Co. mountain boy originally, Mr. Millsaps now stays at the mill village of Porterdale by way of 20 years in Mansfield. Usually funny and at times irreverent and subversive, he leans left in his political philosophy but can always be counted on for a pretty darn good write-up. The Chronicles are proud to have him involved... 

 

An Interview with ~TPC~ Contributing Writer Ellis "Da" Millsaps

The Piedmont Chronicles   

~ est. 2010 ~

[State of GA]
[Newton Co.]

(C-town Representin' * 9/5/16) - 

The other day I eased down to that lovely mill village of Porterdale, as I often do, to visit our old pal, contributing writer to the Chronicles, and general friend-of-the program, Mr. J. Ellis Millsaps. AKA Da. He's alive, and doing fine. I told him that I'd been wanting to do a Q & A with him for this fine publication, and he happily obliged. 

 Enjoy!

- Write-up done in Porterdale, GA; 1 Sept. '16 - 

1. Describe yourself in 5 words: Calm - Funny - Opinionated - Reckless - Studious 
2. Top 5 bands of all time: The Beatles, Nirvana, Outcast, The Stones, and The Who. 
3. Top 5 authors of all time: 
1. Robert Penn Warren
2. Ken Kesey
3. Shakespeare
4. Lee Smith (N.Carolina)
5. Faulkner 

   

4. Top 3 food dishes to cook: Seafood Gumbo * Chicken Kiev * 

Steak Au Poivre; favorite foods to eat: Lobster, Veal Marsala (ed. note - yes, you read that right, Mr. Bleeding Heart Intelligentsia supports the barbaric and inhumane treatment of baby cows), Oysters Rockefeller. 

   

5. What are Da's five biggest accomplishments? 1. Raising his kids. 2. Helping to form and having been involved with Smart Growth Newton Co. 3. Bicycling the Natchez Trace. 4. Hitting the 99th percentile on his LSATs. 5. Having written two novels. 

6. And his 3 biggest regrets? 

• Something about when he was in Law School and him and Ms. Cynthia were living in 5 Points and they had just had Jack. Well, wouldn't you know it - their cat up and had kittens. With exams looming and money tight, Ellis felt like he couldn't deal with it, so he went into the neighborhood behind their place in order to leave the cats, preferably, at Vince Dooley's house. Da's not so sure if he had the right house because he did it under cover of darkness. Well...lo and behold, a while later and those cats showed back up next door to where he and his family were living. A neighbor apparently noticed and told Ellis that he thought his cats were next door. Allegedly, Da was just like - "Nope. Not my cats..." He says he regrets it, not for the actions involved, but because he lied about it.  My word...
• That he didn't study entertainment law at UGA Law School like he felt like he should have. 
• And he regrets not bringing flowers to his wife when their oldest child was born.
  
  
  
  7. How is life as a recovering attorney? "It's easy...low stress. I can do whatever I want." Did you ever really and truly enjoy the practice of law? "There was a time when I was really excited about...but, at the end of the day, it was just about putting food on the table...it was never a true passion.
  
  8. Tell our readership what you're up to, Ellis, or, if you will - whatcha gonna do, Da? 
• Still doing Trivia at The Speakeasy on Wednesday nights, and he is starting to do some culinary work in the kitchen in that same establishment(ed. note:the man has mad food skills. True story. In fact, just last night, Me and the girls went to a get-together that Da hosted and he just outdid himself. The esteemed and honorable Madam Mayor of Porterdale was there, and she can attest to it as well). 
• Publishing his two finished novels, and working on a third, and continuing to write here in this space. 
• Finally getting the much-anticipated Porterdale Municipal Bocci Ball Court finished.
  ~~~~~
  
  Hope y'all enjoyed that. 'Til next time.
  
  Yours Very Truly,
  
  -MBM
  

[tpc] - The Natchez Trace: A Write-up by Ellis Millsaps [Updated]

The Chronicles 
27 March '16

~~~

The Natchez Trace 
A Write-up by contributing writer Ellis Millsaps

*Ed. note: this is  a multi-part series that Ellis wrote about back in 2010 when he bicycled the Trace. A very good write-up, this is a trip I'd like to take sometime. 


 Last week I went on a three day bike ride on the Natchez Trace. The Trace goes from Nashville Tennessee to Natchez Mississippi. It’s a wide two-lane road with a 50 mph speed limit. The entire road is a national park. Originally it was an Indian trail, but in the early 1800’s people on the Ohio River began floating goods on barges down the Ohio and Mississippi to Natchez, selling their goods there and walking back on the Trace.

     No commercial vehicles are allowed. There are no stores or houses on the Trace. The only towns it goes through are Tupelo and Jackson. It’s perfect for bicycling.

     In the 1970’s I took two trips on the Trace. The first was three friends and I bicycling from Tupelo to Jackson, about 100 miles, and back. One of us, Rodney Temples, a crazy Vietnam vet, borrowed a bicycle to ride with us even though he had no experience, unlike the rest of us who cycled all over Atlanta. Setting out from Tupelo—after of course visiting the King’s birthplace—Rodney took off and yelled over his shoulder that he’d see us in Jackson.

     We caught him in about five miles and for the next ninety-five we’d have to stop and wait on him periodically and we filled that time singing to him, “Yeah, yeah, go to Jackson/ Go ahead you big-talkin’ man/ Go on go to Jackson…”The June Carter part of the song.

     The second trip was three years later. Dan Denoon and I rode from Jackson to Natchez and back, again a 200 mile round trip. We pulled into Natchez in July heat so hot you could see it rising off the pavement. On an otherwise deserted narrow street in an old part of town, while I was leaning against a wall to rest in the shade, an old black man appeared and told me he didn’t believe in that civil rights, that white folks were superior and the young coloreds were messing with the divine order.

     I also encountered my first armadillos in south Mississippi. They were still decades away from North Georgia. On both of these trips we rode the whole way the first day and stayed in a motel, then took two days to ride back, camping in sleeping bags without a tent along the way. Armadillos are so stupid they will crawl over a person in a sleeping bag scavenging for garbage. They do not fear tennis shoes flung at them. They got body armor.

     On last weeks’ trip my plan was to ride about 120 miles, from Muscle Shoals to Nashville, over three days, with my assistant Michael driving me to the starting point and Cynthia picking me up at the Nashville end. I figured three days to do the 120 miles because it’s hillier in Tennessee and I’m 30-odd years older than on the earlier trips. Also, I don’t sleep on the ground anymore. I booked two places to sleep in a bed near the Trace.

     This is a long tale so I’ll be giving it to you in installments. The next will be “Day One” and then with “Day Two” we’ll get some pictures, because it wasn’t until then that I figured out how to take pictures with my cell phone.

[tpc] - Death of the Thin White Duke: a Piece from Contributing Writer J. Ellis Millsaps

The Piedmont Chronicles

~ est. 2010 ~

Death of the Thin White Duke 

A piece from contributing writer J. Ellis Millsaps 

Special to the Chronicles 

*******

Last week I walked down the main Porterdale drag to Baby Cakes for a pastry & coffee breakfast. 

I pass by Porterdale Baptist where the sign tells me Dickie Johnson is the pastor.

I'm a Baptist - well, more of a Zen Baptist if we're drawing fine distinctions - but this rubs me the wrong way. 

There's no way I'm taking spiritual guidance from someone who calls himself "Dickie." Just not going to happen, or maybe it will right after I employ Dr. Phil as my life coach. 

Then I pass the basketball court with the nine-foot goal where kids, some of whom are grown, are always playing ball. I've probably walked by them a hundred times the past few months and I swear to you I've never seen a single shot go through the hoop. It's like Rozencrantz and Guilderstern are dead. 

Okay, I'm wandering around in this piece ambling my way towards a confession. 

For the last three years or so I've been dormant. Stopped reading, stopped writing, playing or listening to music. I probably played a thousand hands of solitaire. But I have a good excuse. I was drunk (ed. note: it's more like 4 yrs, but yes, drunk). 

I'm not sure why this happened. I'm still pondering it, but I'm pretty sure it has to do with many of my creative collaborators growing up and moving away (see my piece, The Last Days of Wiffleball).

But just as mysteriously the juice came back. I'm pretty sure it's not entirely coincidental that it coincided with the death of David Bowie. Many of my Rock and Roll heroes have died from overdoses, but that's an occupational hazard. Bowie, however, died of natural causes with dignity and while on a creative roll.

And David Bowie was my contemporary. Well, he's five years older, but I see that I need to get my ass in gear.

Five years, that might be all I've got. I don't know what my next incarnation will be be but I sense it will be badass.

So what you gonna do, Da? Camptown Ladies sing this song... 

*******

Ellis is an attorney by trade but has worn many hats over the years: father, bus boy, stand-up comedian, novelist, wiffle ball player, rock'n'roll band manager, and at one time wrote a popular and funny column for The Covington News. A Fannin Co. mountain boy originally, Mr. Millsaps now stays at the mill village of Porterdale by way of 20 years in Mansfield. Usually funny and at times irreverent and subversive, he leans left in his political philosophy but can always be counted on for a pretty darn good write-up. The Chronicles are proud to have him involved... 

[tpc] - Same Basic Truths About Drugs: Part Deux; The Sequel - A Write-up by Ellis Millsaps

* editor's note: this is the long awaited follow up by J. Ellis Millsaps, cont. writer of TPC to the first installment from this Summer. As always, we appreciate you reading The Chronicles. `MBM  

Some Basic Truths About Drugs: Part Deux; The Sequel 

A write-up by Contributing Writer J. Ellis Millsaps 

Special to the Chronicles 

This part was in my original conception intended to be a separate piece. Then I decided to do a segue, then a continuation. Whatever. Here's the rest:

I was sitting outside the coffee shop in Porterdale, a place where the baristas wear guns, and a cop car pulled up and for the first time (I'm so dense sometimes) it dawned on me that their windows are tinted much darker than us regular peons are allowed to have. So I asked him about it.

He was very nice.

He said, "yes, they are," and there's probably a real good reason for that, I said. Something about how the Citizenry wouldn't know which ones of us the govt. agents were observing; I was just making conversation.

He said he didn't think so. At the last place he worked, the Chief apparently didn't want that. He wanted his government employees to be totally engaged with the People (Ed.note: who's that guy? Let's get him involved here close to home!). And so, that started me thinking...

~ We Have Perverted the Role of Law Enforcement ~

If you're as old as me (63), you likely grew up thinking the police were your friends - and back in Fannin Co. that would have included both the two deputies (Barney & Gomer).

That changed by the time I rocked college in 1969. The fact that weed was illegal made it more glamorous. W were outlaws that were sticking it to an establishment that was sending many of us to die in the jungles of what is now almost universally conceded as a pointless war.

For the next generation this fear of the police started in our middle schools and high schools, but back in the early and mid-sixties, the policeman was truly Officer Friendly. They rode in powerful and superior vehicles of course, but they didn't look like humvees and your could actually see them in there and you could wave to them.

Now, even though I know many cops, I have no idea who is behind the wheel.

Things didn't really get bad until the government allowed police departments to keep the money and cars they seized (I've written a novel, "Good Cop, Bad Cop," which somewhat addresses this; a few chapters of which will be appearing in this space soon).

It was then that the true para-militarization of the police kicked into high gear. The black windows, and the assault vehicles came. Special operations units were funded to spy on and harass citizens. Informants and many others were gotten on the payroll.

Before this started, the State Troopers patrolled the interstate highways alone and local police were happy not to have the responsibility, but once the seizure of private property was allowed, every jurisdiction with a police force and an interstate running through them - no matter how small - was out there looking for loot and revenue from procedural stops.

In fact, the city of Social Circle, GA a few years back incorporated a few hundred yards of I-20 so it could get its piece of the People's pie.

And so it continues, Officer Friendly is now your unfriendly Revenuer.


Ellis is an attorney by trade but has worn many hats over the years: father, bus boy, stand-up comedian, novelist, wiffle ball player, rock'n'roll band manager, and at one time wrote a popular and funny column for The Covington News. A Fannin Co. mountain boy originally, Mr. Millsaps now stays at the mill village of Porterdale by way of 20 years in Mansfield. Usually funny and at times irreverent and subversive, he leans left in his political philosophy but can always be counted on for a pretty darn good write-up. The Chronicles are proud to have him involved...