Series Starts With Trip to Plains, Ga. and Carter’s Final Resting Place
“The People choose their president from among themselves and to the people that person will return.” Calvin Coolidge.
It seems unusual to start a column on U.S. History with one of its most recent events. I feel it appropriate since it was only a year ago that flags were at half-staff for a president who served before most of us were even born. He was born during the administration of Calvin Coolidge and lived long enough to see the administration of President Obama, the youngest of the living U.S. Presidents, current or former.
Ours is still a young country.
One day I left work, and drove 12 hours from Dana, Ind. to Plains, Ga. At one point I slept in my car in a hospital parking lot for a couple hours.
The next day at 9 a.m., very tired, and hungry, I arrived in Plains. If anyone has wondered if American democracy can work, they should come to Plains. It’s a town with just over 500 people. It has one shopping strip and a Dollar General.
On the outskirts of town near Marantha Baptist Church, where Carter taught Sunday School, stands a peculiar roadside attraction: a 13th foot tall Carter Peanut. A campaign prop, gifted to him from the people of Evansville, where he made a stop during his 1976 campaign.
Plains is the essence of southern hospitality, a town where one doffs their hat at a passerby and says, “yes ma’am,” or “no sir,” when addressing their elders. A quant shopping mall with the large banner with “Jimmy Carter” in the center leaves nothing to the imagination regarding who their favorite son is. I stopped into the Plains Trading Post and met and spoke with the owner, Philip Kurkland. Phil and President “Jimmy” Carter were friends, and when asked what he was like Phil said,” he would want you to have all your information before you voiced your opinion.”
“So, he was like an engineer, a nuclear engineer on a submarine.”
“Yes, very much so. And if you didn’t, he’d get upset with you.”
A brief march down a couple of stores revealed a favorite of the Carters’ – homemade peanut ice cream.
It was about that time I knew the gravesite would be opening. I drove over there, through the gates that once were a secret service checkpoint, parked my car and walked up to Rosalyn’s garden.
The Carters are a first to be buried in the front yard of their property. Recently, presidents, excluding Kennedy, have chosen to be buried at their libraries. However, Jimmy and Rosalyn chose to be buried in their front yard. While one can think that this vast and lavish front yard is not in line with their frugal and humble nature, one has to remember that with lifetime Secret Service protection, their movements were more limited. Even the bike rides into town were scripted events
President Carter took inspiration from his predecessor and decided to be buried with the same style of marker as Richard and Pat Nixon. The Carters rest side by side overlooking a beautiful pond. On that hill there used to be a tree that they use for shade during their walks, and here they’ll spend eternity.
As I drove out of town, past his childhood home in the next town of Archery, Ga. and the graves of his parents in a nearby cemetery, President Coolidge’s words came to mind: they really are from us.