Atlanta holds a vaunted place in my narrative. Reading Sunday’s Atlanta Journal and Constitution with my dad was ritual. I earned a nickname when I interrupted a business meeting at the hotel Dad managed. Imitating Dad’s energy and tone, I greeted the eponymous Mr. Atlanta Georgia by his nickname, adding an exuberant hyper enunciation, Misterrrr-Atlantaaaaaa-Georgiaaaa blurred into one word.
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