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Atlanta Stories: Fables of the New South

Atlanta Stories: Fables of the New South, Second Edition

Cover of Fables of the New South

Atlanta Stories: Fables of the New South (ISBN: 978-0-9848913-6-8) is now available in its second edition. Eight stories featuring people who have come to Atlanta, Georgia to reinvent themselves. Portions of these stories appeared on this blog between 2014-2017. Stories include:

  • Mockingbird
  • Journey From Night
  • A Debt to Pay
  • Dead Man’s Hat
  • Remains
  • Bare-Assed Messiah
  • Atomic Punk
  • Phoenix

Selected Reviews, Amazon and Goodreads

“Intriguing, whimsical realism featuring a compelling cast of characters, woven together into a constellation of complex connections…”

“Wonderfully brilliant stories…a rich fabric of Southern culture, with a large city vibe.”

“An author to be on the radar.”

“Lupo is a masterful story writer. “

“Well written and thoughtful.”

Available in print at online booksellers and Kindle from Amazon.

Dander and Leander

Dan Barton sits in the living room of a two-bedroom apartment in Boston, which is sparsely furnished with a second-hand couch, mismatched chairs, plywood and cinder block shelves, and cluttered with tennis shoes, articles of clothing, open and empty boxes of varying sizes, including a black and white cow print Gateway computer box. He’s been a guest of the residents, Dottie and Leah, sleeping on the couch for several months, since his last roommate moved back to Toronto suddenly, leaving him with a place he couldn’t afford on his own and unable to float the cost while he found someone new. In return for letting him crash there, he picks up the utilities. The trio met a little over a year ago at an improv club in Boston, near Wellesley’s campus, and sometimes, varying configurations of Leah, Dottie, and Dan perform together, though mainly Leah and Dan. He’s seated at the computer, near the center of the room, typing.

“Wow, it’s a speed demon,” he says in an elevated voice, as though speaking to someone in another room. “Whatever you did, Leah, it definitely helped.” Receiving no response, he goes on. “I am so stoked for the show tonight. There’s supposed to be a group from Second City performing.”

“Do you have the graduation guide in there?” Leah calls out.

“Why would I have it?” Dan says. “You forget, my application to Wellesley got lost in the mail.”

“Think it’s in Dottie’s room?” she says.

“That would be a safe bet. What do you need?” he says.

“Which way does the tassel go?” she says.

Dan thinks about it. “I think it goes to the left before the ceremony. That’s how we did it in high school.”

Leah enters wearing a cap and gown in Wellesley’s colors. She models it for Dan.

“What do you think?” she says.

“Look at you, Miss Wellesley graduate,” he says. “Did you hear from MIT?”

“I did,” she says. “You are looking at the latest candidate for an accelerated Ph.D.”

“At least you’re staying in the area, so we won’t have to break up the act,” Dan says.

“Oh yeah, the act,” Leah says. “Wouldn’t want to deprive the world of Dander and Leander.”

Dan shakes his head. “You’re a better improviser than you think.”

Leah puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head to the side. “Which explains why I’m always known as ‘that chick who does improv with Dan’. You’re the one who gets all the invitations to play with other groups.”

“I take you along,” he says.

“At least I get to see a lot of free improv by people who really know what they’re doing,” Leah says.

“Are your folks coming up for graduation?” Dan asks.

“The whole family,” Leah replies. “Mom’s supposed to call me tonight to finalize details.”

“As opposed to every other night when she just calls to chat,” he says with a chuckle.

“So, I’m close to my mother, big deal,” she says.

“No, I think it’s great. I wish I got along with my parents that well,” he says.

“It was really just me and Mom before Alyssa was born,” Leah says. “Well, Dad was there on weekends between tee times.”

“He’s some sort of high roller in Atlanta isn’t he?”

“Real estate,” she says. She looks up as though reading a billboard. “Paxton Walker, the man who gave Atlanta its urban sprawl.”

“Doesn’t that make you a Southern heiress?” Dan says.

Leah rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

The phone rings and Leah answers.

“This is Leah. That you, Mom?” She seems surprised. “Dad? Why are you calling? Where’s Mom?” She puts her hand to her head. “Wait. What did you just say?”

Leah exits into her room. Dan looks after her. “Leah?”

Dottie enters and dumps her bag onto a chair. “Hey, Dan. What’s up?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Leah just got a call from her father and went in her room.”

“From her father?” Dottie says, concerned. “Leah doesn’t get calls from her father.”

Just then, Leah returns, holding the phone, her face wet with tears. Dan rises and Dottie goes to Leah and puts her arm around her.

Dan touches Leah’s shoulder and says, “Leah? Is everything okay?”

Leah shakes her head. “No. Nothing’s okay. Nothing will ever be okay again.” She stares at Dottie. “Dottie?” Leah wraps her arms around Dottie and starts sobbing. Dottie comforts her. After a moment, Leah lifts her head. “That was my father. He said my mother—“ She breaks off. “My mom’s dead.”

“Oh my god,” Dan says.

“What happened?” Dottie says. “When Dan said you were talking to him, something didn’t feel right.”

Leah puts her hand to her head. “He didn’t go into a lot of details. He came home and—“ She wanders aimlessly away from them. “I’ve got to get to Atlanta. Tonight.”

Dan looks at Dottie, who nods. He says, “What can we do to help?”

“I need to—“ Leah starts, then says, “What about graduation?”

Dottie takes her hands. “Don’t worry about that now. You need to get home to be with your family.”

Leah stares at her a moment and nods. “I’ll need a flight out.” She looks in the direction of her room. “I need to pack.”

Dan takes the phone from Leah and says to Dottie, “Okay, listen. You help get her stuff together.” He starts to dial. “My cousin works for American Airlines at Logan. I’ll call her and make the arrangements. If there’s a direct flight out tonight, she’ll get you on it.”

Leah nods.

Dottie puts her arm around Leah and guides her into her room. “Let’s get you home.”

A Soldier’s Story

My great-grandparents, James David and Sarah Ella (Harp) Lupo. In all probability, my great-grandfather had no memory of his father, who died in the Civil War at age 25, when my great-grandfather was three.

Note: This essay is reprinted from The Cheese Toast Project available from online bookstores, and in Kindle format from An earlier draft appeared on this blog 5 August 2014.

On the freezing morning of Sunday, 29 November 1863, Union soldiers defending Fort Sanders in Knoxville, Tennessee leveled their rifles at advancing Confederate soldiers and fired, killing or wounding more than eight hundred, and thus set in motion a chain of events that would lead to my birth, not quite a century later. One of the Confederate soldiers who died was Nathaniel G. Lupo, my great-great-grandfather. Nathaniel may have died from a single shot, a barrage of bullets, or a mortar blast. He may have been tripping over the baling wire that had been strung between tree stumps to slow down any assault, attempting to scale the frozen wall of the fort with a stand of colors, or struggling in the ditch surrounding the fort, while, above him, Union gunners rained down bullets on him and his comrades. The exact circumstances of his final moments have been lost to history, though one can be certain they were chaotic, and undoubtedly horrifying, with death and devastation surrounding him on all sides. The poorly planned assault on Fort Sanders, carried out by troops serving in the First Corps of the Army of Northern Virginia under James Longstreet, lasted approximately twenty minutes and gained absolutely nothing for the Confederate cause. The only certainty is that Nathaniel’s death altered the course of his family, affecting every generation since, including my own.

I know very little about my great-great-grandfather. While I have vague memories of my grandfather, who died when I was ten, and knew my great-uncle reasonably well, my interest in the history of our family had not yet manifested itself, and by the time I started asking questions, neither of them, nor my great-aunt, were around to supply any answers. My father claimed to know very little about his ancestors, but if I asked him specific questions, such as whether or not his great-grandfather fought and died in the Civil War, he usually knew the answer. The Roster of the Confederate Soldiers of Georgia, compiled by Lillian Henderson, lists four Lupos who fought in the war for Georgia, two brothers, one close cousin, and one distant cousin.

What I know of Nathaniel mainly comes from the few official records he left behind. Given his age on the census, he appears to have been born around 1835, most likely in Houston County, Georgia. He appears on the 1850 census, living in the household of Robert D. Sinclair, a physician and large land owner in Dooly County, Georgia. On 2 November 1854, he married Sarah Amanda Cone, and by 1860, Nathaniel, his father David, wife Amanda, and uncle Giles, and their families, had moved to Jackson County, Florida. A letter from David Lupo, dated 1 April 1860, mentions Nathaniel, and reports the activity surrounding their farm. Nathaniel and Amanda had three children listed in their household in 1860, Nancy T, age 5, William, age 3, and my great-grandfather, James David, who was about eight months old. There is a story in my family, told to me by one of my older cousins, that Nathaniel was a fiddle player, which would be interesting, considering his ancestors were as well, but I have no other information with which to confirm or refute this.

In 1861, Nathaniel and his family, returned to Dooly County, where on 22 June 1861, he enlisted for service in the Georgia Volunteer Infantry. His company, dubbed “The Dooly Light Infantry” and headed by Captain Joseph Armstrong, was sent to Cobb County for training, and later to Virginia, where they became Company I in the 18th Georgia Regiment, which was initially part of John Bell Hood’s “Texas” brigade. In 1864, Hood would be the general who surrendered Atlanta to Sherman, but in 1861-62 the youthful Hood was just establishing his reputation for being a fierce and reckless commander. His Texas brigade, including the 18th Georgia, was responsible for breaking the Union line at Gaines Mill, and turning the tide in the Seven Days campaign, where Lee drove McClellan from Virginia. The battle-hardened 18th Georgia was later transferred to Thomas R. R. Cobb’s Georgia brigade (later led by William Tatum Wofford), where they continued to be a part of the shock troops, first in, and last out, in many of the battles in which they participated. The 18th Georgia played a decisive role at Second Manassas, fought at Antietam, the bloodiest single day in American history, and was stationed behind the Stone Wall on Marye’s Heights at Fredericksburg, which was an absolute bloodbath for Union troops attempting to take the position. The First Corps under James Longstreet, including the 18th Georgia, which was heavily engaged in the Peach Orchard, participated during the second day’s fighting at Gettysburg. Records show that shortly after the Battle of Gettysburg, Nathaniel was admitted to the hospital in Virginia, but the cause isn’t given.

In short, Nathaniel didn’t just serve in the war, he was front and center at some of the bloodiest and most brutal fighting of the bloodiest war in America’s history. Having never served in combat myself, I cannot begin to imagine what participating in such carnage can do to a man’s psyche. Records show, in addition to the aftermath of Gettysburg, that Nathaniel spent time in hospitals following several battles, including Antietam, without the cause being reported. The 18th Georgia was among the troops who accompanied Longstreet on detached service in Tennessee and Georgia in fall and winter of 1863, though the 18th did not participate in the Battle of Chickamauga, the one battle the First Corps fought on Georgia soil. Longstreet didn’t get along very well with Braxton Bragg, who was in command of forces around Chattanooga, and left to conduct independent operations in Eastern Tennessee, which brought the First Corps to Knoxville by early November.

Surviving accounts of the battle in which Nathaniel lost his life are marred by the fact that in the aftermath of the assault, Longstreet brought charges against several of his subordinates, including Major General Lafayette McLaws, who was in command of the division which included the 18th Georgia. Longstreet accused McLaws of not providing proper equipment to carry out the assault, while McLaws pointed the finger at Longstreet for providing him with faulty reconnaissance. The main point of contention appears to center around how much of an obstacle the ditch surrounding the fort would be, and McLaws stated he was assured by Colonel E. P. Alexander, artillery commander and a military engineer, and by Longstreet himself that they had witnessed a soldier crossing the ditch without difficulty at the point where the attack was to occur. McLaws confirmed that the majority of soldiers who died were killed in the ditch. A report by opposing General Ambrose Burnside, stated that casualties were left in the ditch overnight in freezing conditions, with the wounded calling out for help, until the following morning, when Burnside proposed a truce, which Longstreet accepted, allowing the Confederates to tend to their wounded and bury their dead. Burnside reported that ninety-two bodies were turned over to the Confederates. Nathaniel was most likely among them.

I do not know if I would be here, had Nathaniel lived. In all probability, I would not be, given that his death is the main event which started my family on their journey through the next century. Nathaniel’s actions, returning to Georgia, and enlisting for service, probably felt obvious to him. He may have felt he had no choice in the matter, yet every step of the way, he made the choices, up to and including where he stood in formation in preparation for the assault on the fort on 29 November. Just as I do not know the exact circumstances of his death, I also do not know what became of his body. In all likelihood, he was buried in a mass grave on the battlefield, and left behind as the army moved on. His name does not appear among those re-interred in the city cemetery after the battle, though recently, the grave of his commanding officer, Solon Z. Ruff, has been located and marked in Knoxville, by the Sons of Confederate Veterans. Reports of the battle indicate Ruff died in the ditch surrounding the fort while cheering on his men, and since he was commanding Wofford’s Brigade, which included the 18th, most likely, that’s where Nathaniel died as well. Most of current day Knoxville, and the University of Tennessee at Knoxville, was built over top of the battlefield. In 1982, I went there with two friends to attend the World’s Fair, with no idea of the importance the city had in my family’s history. While I’m not a believer in signs, I will report that the first day we were there, it rained the entire time.

One cannot speak of Confederate ancestors without invoking the memory of the cause for which they fought. Let me be clear, I do not honor the Confederacy as a governmental entity, nor do I believe in what the politicians of the Southern states attempted to accomplish by breaking away from the Union. Secession was a horrible idea in 1860, and those in the South who invoke the specter of secession for their own political ends today, merely perpetuate the arrogance and ignorance of those who led the South to secede, leading to thousands of needless deaths in the resulting conflict.

Since the end of the war, states which made up the Confederacy have attempted, and largely succeeded, in changing public perceptions about the war, shifting the cause from slavery to states’ rights. None of this matters. We don’t need to speculate on why Georgia seceded because the people who made the decision to secede spelled out in fairly clear terms why they were doing it. Georgia’s declaration of secession gives a comprehensive outline of the animosities between slave states and non-slave states and makes it clear that those who drafted the document believed owning slaves was a Constitutionally protected right that the non-slave states had violated. Lincoln’s election was cited as a culmination of the non-slave states’ efforts to disenfranchise the slave-holding states and was listed as a direct cause of secession. The drafters of Georgia’s declaration stated that had protections for slavery not been written into the Constitution, the slave-holding states never would have ratified it. Further, the United States government’s inability to enforce the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 is mentioned as a mitigating factor. That’s about as explicit as one can get on the issue. In fact, slave-holding states had called upon the United States government to nullify laws in states such as Massachusetts which prevented slave owners from reclaiming slaves who’d run away, and granted freedom to any slave who happened to travel there with the slaveholder.

As to why the individual soldiers signed up, in the absence of correspondence from them, we cannot know their specific motives, but, most likely, Nathaniel, and others like him, signed up for service because he thought his home and family were threatened by a potential invasion of the state. Nathaniel returned to Georgia, volunteered for Georgia, was trained and equipped by Georgia to fight for Georgia, and instead, he and other volunteers immediately found themselves shipped out to Virginia to protect the Confederate capital, leaving Georgia’s defenses in disarray. In a dispatch to the Confederate War Department dated 11 November 1861, Georgia’s governor, Joseph E. Brown, specifically requested return of three brigades including Wofford’s, which comprised the 18th Georgia, because of a feared invasion by enemy forces. This wasn’t a trivial matter given Georgia’s extensive coastline. Dispatches show considerable apprehension among the governor and mayors of several cities of an invasion targeting Savannah, Brunswick, or Augusta. The request was denied by the Confederate war department, as were other requests by Governor Brown. At the time, there was tension but no outright hostilities in Virginia, and the 18th Georgia had been assigned to picket duty around Richmond.

Regardless of Nathaniel’s motives in taking up arms against the United States, it is pointless to ignore or downplay that aspect of my family’s history, as it plays so great a part in it, just as my ancestors played their part in the history of this country. While I do not always agree with the decisions my ancestors made, I cannot deny those decisions played a part in the circumstances which eventually led to me being here. Had Nathaniel lived, he may have decided to take his family west, as many did in the wake of the war; or returned to Florida; or traveled elsewhere in Georgia. Records show that his death had a devastating effect on his young family. Other than her listing on a record of widows who received a salt ration in 1864, no records whatsoever have been found on his widow, Amanda, until she applied for a pension with the state of Georgia in the 1890s, and the fate of their daughter, Nancy, is unknown. Their son William shows up on the incomplete census of 1870, in Dooly County, living near the family of Nelson Moye in or near Pinehurst, Georgia, and in 1880, their son David can also be found near the Moyes in Pinehurst, living away from Nathaniel’s brothers and sisters in and around Vienna.


  1. Henderson, Lillian, Roster of the Confederate Soldiers of Georgia, 1861-1865, Georgia State Division of Confederate Pensions and Records, Longina & Porter 1960.
  2. The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, United States War Department, Government Printing Office, Washington, DC, 1880-1901.
  3. Georgia Declaration of Secession, Official Records of Georgia, Serial IV, Volume 1, pp. 81-85, text found online at the website for Yale University’s Law School.

The End of History 

While many might believe life on Earth would be simpler if we could all be brought together under a single, unifying philosophy, no one can come to any sort of agreement on what that should be. Every social, political, economic, and religious movement since the dawn of civilization has sought to unite people under a common set of beliefs, or economic system, or way of life. Utopian movements speak of such a time, when everyone finally agrees on a guiding set of principles as the end of history. This does not mean the end of human advancement, just the end of our struggles to find a system which best promotes that advancement.

Few can doubt that the old order is swiftly passing away and a new one is taking its place, but rather than controlling how the future will develop, I see people like the current administration in the US as a catalyst for finally destroying what’s left of the old ways of thinking. They’re the last gasp of the tribal mentality dying out. Once they and their cronies are done, it’s up to the enlightened throughout the world to pick up the pieces of what’s left and start over.

We are seeing, on the world stage, the beginnings of a global movement aimed at protecting the environment, insuring peace and prosperity for all, encouraging women and protecting them from such brutal practices as enforced marriage and genital mutilation, and respecting individual rights and beliefs. We need to take the initiative to insure that what develops promotes the goal of uplifting and empowering all people. Philosophies such as that of the Taliban, which holds that it’s okay to shoot a teenaged girl in the face for wanting an education, are so abhorrent that they deserve no place in the discussion, and humanity will be best served when such ideas are wiped from the face of the Earth.

Race, religion, politics, gender, national origin, sexual orientation, and socioeconomic status, are all used to exclude people. Remove these as barriers and we all have a seat at the table. The truth is constantly being revealed to us. It’s not written in any particular book nor does it come from any particular period of world history, but it’s always there, always speaking to us in everything that exists, and all that occurs. We should stop assuming any one set of beliefs should predominate and start embracing the uniqueness of each individual. In a universe of infinite possibilities, we exist. We should strive to make the most of this opportunity.

Here and Now

I was raised in a conservative Christian household, in an evangelical church, in the Southern United States, in the 60s and 70s. It’s doubtful anyone can tell me anything about Jesus I haven’t already heard. People ask when and why I lost my faith and my response is, I didn’t. I never really had any faith to lose. It’s easy to believe in a concept when one is only presented with a single point of view and simply accepts what one is told, and I did. People I respected and admired helped to form the basis for my initial “faith” and I had no reason to question what they told me. Once I started to scratch the surface, however, what I thought was my faith started to evaporate.

I have heard the explanations and the arguments in favor of a benevolent father figure watching over us, and I have rejected them. The universe is a vast and chaotic place which exhibits no signs of enforced order. I came to this conclusion totally on my own, of my own free will, and based on many observations with much study and contemplation on my part. My mind is my own and I take responsibility for the decisions I make. While I have read much on the subject from many diverse sources, I chose the lessons I took from those sources. I accept nothing at face value, and know that each person has his or her own perspectives, biases, thoughts, feelings, and limitations which color how he or she sees the world.

I believe all “holy” texts to be the work of the people, mostly men, who produced them, and were developed to serve a particular community at a particular time and place. According to the strictures of human nature, they are affected by the limitations and biases of those people. It’s dubious to accept a piece of literature as “the truth” when we are several thousand years removed from the original context in which it was written, and not reading it in its original format or language. What we call “The Bible”, for instance, has been edited and reedited throughout its existence and translated into languages that didn’t even exist at the time of its original conception. The translations with which we’re most familiar often come from translations of the original source material which has been lost to history. Faith in such a text means faith that every single individual or group who wrote, rewrote, edited, translated, or transcribed it always did so perfectly and without ulterior motives. Since humans are fallible, the work they produce cannot be without errors even if they believe it to be divinely inspired.

I believe that most creatures have some form of consciousness, but humans have developed a method of recognizing and documenting it. Anyone who has an animal in his or her household can attest to the fact that animals dream, and respond to those dreams. Do they recognize them as dreams, however? Humans do. We also have the capacity to examine the world around us and draw conclusions based on those observations. Despite this, we leave far too much to chance, hoping for a desired outcome, when, with a little ingenuity on our part, we could have more easily defined results. Science is one such method for insuring more predictable outcomes, yet many dismiss science or ignore its conclusions when they don’t match with a given set of beliefs.

If the conclusions of many contemporary religions are correct, then the only purpose for our lives on this Earth is to be tested to demonstrate our worthiness for entering heaven. Much like the Green Stamps my mother used to collect when I was a child, we’re storing up our thoughts and deeds in order to cash in when we get to the next world. To believe this, however, runs the risk of making life on this Earth totally meaningless in and of itself. I believe if we can train ourselves to live in the here and now, not focusing on some imagined future nor worrying about mistakes from the past, we may find a level of contentment we never before knew existed.