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Dear Heavenly Father, as we prepare to enter University of Georgia football and fall harvest seasons, I would like to reflect on my past and give thanks for the two most important seasons for us Georgians. First and foremost, I am so very grateful for my upbringing on a family farm in Middle Georgia where I was raised by loving, God-fearing and Bulldawg-alumni parents. I am so thankful for all of our Georgia farmers who grow the plethora of food that we most graciously partake of while tailgating on gameday Saturdays in Athens.

Please pardon me while I reminisce upon my youth and a simpler time. Even though the fall was the busiest time on our farm, three or four times a football season, my UGA-educated Daddy would unselfishly walk away from the farm so he could share with me his love for the BullDawgs! I was always thrilled to go to Athens to watch the game up close and in person. A game day on the farm consisted of listening to the late, great Larry Munson on the radio from either our front porch, where we got the best reception, or in the dove field. I can still remember that little hand-held Radio Shack radio with the ear piece that never quite stayed put in my ear. Daddy and I would load up before daylight in Momma’s Ford woodgrain-sided station wagon. She would pack us a cooler loaded with two cans of Co-Colas, a quart jar of sweet-tea, and two pimento-n-cheese sammiches, made lovingly with Dukes Mayonnaise, cut diagonally and wrapped in wax paper. These were always accompanied by a Tupperware of spicy Cajun boiled peanuts grown on our farm. Our pilgrimage north carried us up Highway 441 through Georgia’s dairy belt. Once we crossed the river into Oconee County, Daddy would tell me to keep my eyes open for the little country church where the church’s youth group would be selling crispy fried chicken. We would usually get four-pieces of delicious church-fried chicken served through the window of our station wagon on a paper plate, covered with Saran wrap. Those next 15 to 20 minutes into Athens were painful as a Georgia loss, as Daddy would make me wait until we got parked at our reserved parking spot on Ag Hill near Conner Hall before we could eat. 

In today’s world, our tailgates look remarkably different! At my tailgate, we have nearly 600 square feet of shaded tent coverage, Honda generators producing enough electricity to power our 60-inch flat screen tv and satellite dish, professional sound system, crockpots, and oscillating fans to keep our beautiful Bulldawg fans from glistening and getting the vapors in the early fall heat. We feast on food that has been prepared on pull-behind smokers and charcoal grills loaded with golden smoked chickens from Northeast Georgia and tangy barbecue ribs and sausage-balls from South Georgia swine. There are always Southwest Georgia candied pecans from the orchards of Middle Georgia. And if you are lucky, you may find fried apple pies from the North Georgia mountains, cobbler loaded with Bacon County blueberries and those delicious fruitcakes from Claxton.

Although many things have changed since my youth on the farm, I’m proud to say that some things never will. These constants remain the love of family, Georgia football, and our hardworking Georgia farmers!

by Georgia-based author Charlie English

Georgia Farm Bureau Insurance is a proud partner of the University of Georgia