I admit that on the surface it looks like our town has gone to crap, but she does have an undeniable history. I got a wild hair one night to dig through the crust and wrote a little piece -
Atlanta
In a state that’s named for a king who reigned
in the eighteenth century
is a southern town that’s world renowned
and rich with history.
But long before her lights-galore
and buildings stories-high
was virgin land with forests-grand
and unpolluted sky.
From Rabun Gap where rivers wrapped
the land in strings of blue
to coastal plains where mountains drained
and fields of cotton grew.
The Cherokee were first to see
those hills of north GA
when tribes who came in search of game
decided they would stay.
They built their mounds, they settled towns,
they hunted, farmed and fished –
a place to be, where living free
was all they ever wished.
But with the train, the settlers came –
they brought the white man’s creed
and gold that shown on land they owned
would stoke the fires of greed.
The State would pass a law that cast
the Cherokee aside
and while their land was changing hands –
their stay would be denied.
Forced to leave without reprieve,
they left their home of years
and thousands killed by winter’s chill
would line the trail of tears.
A rose of white would mark their plight,
with petals – seven each
to symbolize the native tribes
whose lands they’d never reach.
That sacred-Rose still freely grows
and marks our darkest hour,
immortalized, forever prized –
the state’s official flower.
Overnight, the city’s might
would grow a hundred-fold,
when thousands came – their only aim
to find some Georgia gold.
By ’45, the town that thrived
was known as “Marthasville”,
but then the name “Atlanta” came –
the name we call her still.
A path for freight would be her fate
and all the tracks they laid
would bring her fame as she became
the hub of southern trade.
In time, that boom would bring her doom
when the nation went to war
and the Union’s might would bring the fight
right to Atlanta’s door.
Her many routes supplied the troops –
made sure the Gray was stocked,
and Sherman knew just what to do
to see those routes were blocked.
General Hood did what he could
to keep the North at bay,
but then he’d leave from months of siege
and Sherman had his way.
Post-retreat, he cleared the streets –
made all civilians flee
then put a torch to every porch –
he hardly left a tree.
Atlanta burned – the tables turned
and soon the war would end –
a town once graced, then laid to waste,
would have a chance to mend.
And mend, she would – with time, she stood
as though there’d been no war,
as from the flame, the phoenix came –
much greater than before.
Her streets were lined with painted signs
and lights so all could see
and like a flash, she went from ash
to the town she used to be.
On Peachtree Street, old Jacob treated
headaches with his brew –
he launched the brand and soon demand
for “Coca-Cola” grew.
The Depression came and doused the flame –
it knocked her to her knees
and desperate men who couldn’t spend
would see Atlanta freeze.
Her pain was felt by Roosevelt
as he watched the city wilt
and homeless cries were subsidized
when Techwood Homes was built.
A grave affair, no jobs to spare –
when banks were all in doubt,
that local brew would see her through –
when Coke would bail her out.
By wintertime of ’39,
the town was on the mend,
and stars would meet on Peachtree Street
to see “Gone With the Wind”.
Again she grew in World War II
when soldiers came to train
and aircraft jobs in northern Cobb
began producing planes.
Hordes of feet would crowd her streets
as the population swelled,
while racial lines had been defined –
not everyone excelled.
The blacks and whites for civil rights
would rip the town in two
and leaders lead while blood was shed
when riots would ensue.
A preacher’s son would be the one
to jump into the ring.
To lead the fight with passive might,
was Martin Luther King.
A guy named Ted would start to spread
the news by satellite
so TBS and CNN
could reach us every night.
Olympic Games propelled her name
to those who didn’t know,
and local news misread the clues
when a hidden bomb would blow.
Other things would serve to bring
more population growth,
the jobs that be, her history –
or maybe some of both.
A town that spun some things you’ve done –
you didn’t realize,
like drinking Coke or watching Hoke
take Daisy for a drive.
So many souls would set the goals
for what she’d come to be,
the pioneers, the engineers
and the noble Cherokee.
Great tycoons would lead the booms
and rebels would defend,
a King would fight for civil rights
and Mitchell took the wind.
Forever grand, Atlanta stands
with symbols of her name -
that special rose that freely grows
and a Phoenix from the flames.
At least the shooting was in our town, the "suspects" came from another part of town. 
