Rome, Georgia - August, 2010
If you connect the dots - Elvis was born in Mississippi, Graceland is in Tennessee and my friend June was born in Rome, Georgia - there is no dot connecting whatsoever . . . except the dots do connect. Sort of. Let me explain - I’ve been thinking about Rome, and other American cities with famous European names - like Memphis, which actually isn’t in Europe, as sort of a side-bar fascination ever since I first met June 34 years ago. There’s something exotic about saying you’ve been to Rome, even if it’s in Georgia. Or Paris . . . Texas . . . just to say you’ve been to Paris. I’ve been to Moscow, Idaho, but I’d never tell anyone. So, here is how the dots connect - Going to Rome made me think of Memphis, which made me think of Graceland. And therefore Elvis. June loved Graceland and I . . . do I love Elvis? Let me put it this way - if you were nine years old in 1964 when the Beatles first came to America, with all the Beatlemania and “I want to hold your hand,”
The Beatles, 1964
then you will understand how I felt in 1956 when I was nine, and Elvis hit the scene with “You ain’t nothing but a hound dog.” That was the first 45 I ever remember owning. My first 45! Most nine year olds today would have no idea what a 45 is, except maybe a Smith & Wesson. Elvis probably owned one. I’ll have to go to Graceland to find out.
The King in 1956
Anyway, to quote the great Paul Simon, “I’m going to Graceland. For reasons I cannot explain - There’s some part of me wants to see Graceland, And I may be obliged to defend every love every ending or maybe these’s no obligations now, maybe I’ve a reason to believe we all will be received in Graceland.”
And this all comes right around to Benito Mussolini, and by default Hitler, although I won’t go there - nor will I write about Marilyn Monroe or JFK. Where was I? Benito Mussolini, Romulus and Remus and the Capitoline Wolf in Rome, Georgia and the great stock market crash of 1929. See how its all connected? No?
In 1929 Benito Mussolini, then the Dictator of Italy, presented a bronze statue of the Capitoline Wolf, an exact replica of the Etruscan art that stands in the Palazzo dei Conservatori on Capitoline Hill in Rome, Italy, to the city of Rome, Georgia, Rome, Italy’s sister city. City officials proudly planted the statue in front of the historic City Hall on Broad Street in downtown Rome. Understandably, not all the good high moral Southern Baptist’s appreciated a statue of two human boys, Romulus and Remus, sucking on a wolf’s tits - right there in front of City Hall.
I guess it was all tolerated until 1940, when Benito buddied up with Adolf, and worse yet after December 7, 1941 and Pearl Harbor, when the United States entered World War II. Can you imagine - we’re at war with Hitler and Mussolini and right there in the cradle of American pride in the United States South, unless you’re one of the thousands of Dixie Separatists who were still pissed about losing the Civil War to the damned Northerners, and right there in your face at City Hall is a tit sucking statue given to the city by Mussolini Himself?!!
Why let’s melt the sucker and make bullets to shoot the bastard with. Or maybe just dynamite it and send it to hell, with the devil and the rest of those Nazi non-believers.
Fortunately the Capitoline Wolf with Romulus and Remus was spirited away and replace by an American Flag, until 1952, when they dusted it off and put it back in front of City Hall. By the way, if you are curious, Romulus and Remus were the mythical twins sons of Mars, the god of war and Rhea Silvia, (a babe) the daughter of King Numitor of Alba Longa. (which takes us back to the 7th century BC - long before Elvis) King Numitor was overthrown by his brother Amulius who then ordered Romulus and Remus to be cast into the Tiber River. (bad uncle) They were rescued by a she-wolf (thus the tit suckling statue) who cared for them until a herdsman found and raised them (as sheep). (Sounds like the Moses story - except Romulus and Remus never really forgot they were wolves) (wolves in sheep clothes, or so the (my) story goes) Romulus and Remus grew (into big bad (wolf) warriors) and after reclaiming Alba Longa for King Numitor, (a Romulan humanoid from the planet Romulus in the Beta Quadrant) (Which brings Star Trek into the equation - and finally connects Rome to Romula) the brothers began plans for a city near the site of their rescue on the banks of the Tiber. (they were actually gay interior designers at heart) During a (hissy-fit) quarrel over the city’s name, (Remus wanted to name the city Uncle Remus) Romulus killed Remus. (he could have just slapped him) He then built the city, giving it his name. Rome. And not to be dismissed, Joel Chandler Harris lived in Atlanta, Georgia, not that far from Rome, when he wrote all the Uncle Remus stories. See how it all comes together?
Uncle Remus and the young Vulcan Spock to his left collecting Southern negro data
Which also brings up my sense of humor. Am I crossing the line with a picture of Uncle Remus? I have to confess that I did cross the line with the word "hillbilly," and humbly apologize to all them "Mountain Folk" out there who were avidly reading my blogs until I offended them. I'm a naive Yankee, I'll admit. Not a Damn Yankee, mind you, who is a naive Northerner who actually lives in the South and offends everyone with the mere intrusion, especially if they aren't a God-fearin' Christian, or didn't go to the High School of the town they moved to. Which, upon saying this, I hope doesn't upset all my God-fearin' fans. I'm just trying to sort out how exactly I can be my on-the-road (just telling it as I sees it) satirist writer self without every now and again not upsetting someone who is not me. I certainly don't upset myself, unless I'm doing something that is not selfish, which would be somewhat insincere if you know what I mean - which I don't think you or anyone else would really appreciate.
Stay tuned. I'm not done with The Trail of Tears and that damn Andrew Jackson.
Love and blessings, David Dakan Allison

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