“Are you sure we can do this?” my daughter asked. “I mean, doesn’t somebody live here?”

We had just turned into the Governor’s Mansion in Atlanta. I presented my driver’s license and the guards at the gate told us where to park.Walking up to the orange brick building flanked with 30 white columns, we rang the front door bell where a white-haired, petite docent greeted us on this rainy day and gave us the history of the mansion. (more…)