Saturday morning, as I devoured a most delicious (and now my favorite sandwich ever) Peanut Butter and Jelly Grilled Sandwich at the Plains’ Peanut Festival, a plethora of people congregated in front of the railroad depot.

Such a gathering of onlookers usually means one or two things, I have discovered in my thirteen years in the journalism business. One, there is a fight or a riot or a wreck or a fire, or two, the local Winn Dixie is giving away free food.

Being nosey by nature, and not just by job, I sauntered over to see what was going on.

In my career, not to self promote, I have met all sorts of people, seen all sorts of things, and even tried some ‘firsts,’ like riding a horse and flying in a helicopter. As a collegiate football recruiting assistant, I have gone ‘toe to toe’ with boys twice my size length wise and width wise. Never met a stranger,and for those of you who have just started to know me, well, I talk to anyone. Sometimes, I talk too much.(My bosses are probably nodding.)

Saturday, though, I experienced a first among all firsts. I saw former President Jimmy Carter up close, and he wasn’t on my television screen. I know he is a native son, loved by most, respected by all(even if they didn’t agree with his politics), and to you, he is just Mr. Carter.

But to me, well, I was rendered speechless, standing there in front of the stage, with the crowd. My eyes were wide, and it was like I was a kid again, seeing Santa Claus for the first time.

In 1976, I was living in Texas, and was six years old. Not much has changed about me, except I am older and weight challenged. I remember President Carter’s campaign and his winning. I remember he and Mrs. Carter walking down the street in the parade in Washington. I remember thinking, whoa, this man is the coolest.

To me, the man was neat because he was from Georgia, and well, my dad is from Georgia, and my grandparents were living in Georgia. I just figured that was enough reason for Carter to be elected and was sure he knew my dad and my Grandpa Holland. My grandpa grew peanuts in his garden in Empire, Georgia and President Carter, well, he was from Plains, and he grew peanuts too.

I am my mom’s baby, but also a daddy’s girl. So, if I had to explain my interest in the Carters, all I can say is it was because of my dad.

I kept an eye on the former President when he was in office, and watched with interest as he dealt with the first Iran hostage crisis. I can remember being mad at the media because they were giving the wrong type of attention to the situation. Peggy Anderson, sister of hostage, Terry Waite, was given a hard time as the press camped outside her door. I thought it was unfair that President Carter wasn’t given credit for the return of the hostages, that everyone waited until he was out of house to allow them to come home.

Then and there, I decided that I was going to be a newspaper writer, and tell stories, even the negative ones, with a happy twist to them. So, I guess, I have President Carter to thank for being a partial influence on my career choice.

I have my dad to thank for my interest in President Carter.

Daddy is a unique individual, with a multitude of talents and skills that he has yet to reveal, and I am not just saying that because he is my dad.

Daddy didn’t graduate from college, though when he reached his 70s, he did decide to take some refresher courses at the local community college. Already known as the ‘armchair philosopher’ in our family, wouldn’t you know it-Daddy decided to take psychology classes?

Like President Carter, my dad was born in a rural Georgia community. Daddy was born September 28, 1933 and Jimmy Carter was born October 1, 1924. Both men worked as children and young adults in their communities, working on a farm, in a garden, and my dad did his time at a Western Auto store. President Carter worked for his father. My dad took up my grandpa’s line of work-he became an electrical/air conditioning/plumbing/heating contractor.