Front Porch Mysteries with Carole Townsend
Author and veteran journalist Carole Townsend shares remarkable tales from the South, tales of mystery, terror, and wonder. Townsend has built a career on the premise that truth really is stranger than fiction.
Here in the South, we love our stories. We begin in childhood huddled around campfires, whispering of things best spoken in the dark, confiding in our small trusting circles. Why is that, do you suppose? I have researched and investigated Southern history for more than 20 years and I believe it has to do with this region itself. There's a lot that hangs in the ether here and much that is buried deep in the soil. There's beauty here in the South and shame and courage and, make no mistake, there is evil. There's always been the element of the unexplained, the just out of reach that we can all feel but can never quite describe. And the best place for telling tales about such things is the comfort and safety of an old front porch. So I invite you tonight to come up here with me, settle back into a chair and get comfortable, pour yourself a drink if you like, and I'll share with you some of the tales best told in the company of friends, tales that prove that truth really is stranger than fiction, and I'll turn on the light. You're going to want that. I'm Carole Townsend. Welcome to my front porch.
Front Porch Mysteries with Carole Townsend
The Aftermath
After weeks of silence, we're back with a deeply personal journey through trauma, healing, and the mysterious corners of the South that continue to call to us even in our darkest moments.
The devastating head-on collision that abruptly ended our previous episode left me shattered – both legs broken with compound fractures, broken ankles, shattered kneecaps, four broken ribs, and a surgically reattached left foot. July exists as little more than a foggy haze of pain medication and the natural, uncontrollable sounds of agony that came with each movement of freshly broken bones. Despite the severity of these injuries, doctors remain hopeful for a complete recovery, with physical therapy beginning in late October.
Beyond the physical trauma lies another battle many Americans face: the fight with insurance companies who dictate medical care despite physician recommendations. When deemed "too broken" for rehabilitation but "stable enough" for discharge, my family faced astronomical costs – $5,500 weekly for essential at-home care and $250 per medical transport appointment, none covered by our insurance despite faithful payment of premiums. This reality forces us to examine a healthcare system that routinely places corporate interests above patient wellbeing.
Yet even confined to a hospital bed, my storyteller's mind wanders to hidden southern mysteries waiting to be shared. While the promised Mothman episode must wait until pain medications no longer cloud my thoughts, I offer something equally intriguing: Atlanta's Doll's Head Trail. This 2.5-mile path through Constitution Lakes Park showcases eerie art installations created from discarded doll parts, abandoned appliances, and industrial remnants – a reclamation project transforming environmental neglect into something hauntingly beautiful. Visit at dusk, when shadows stretch long and you might hear childlike voices whispering stories of being treasured, discarded, and reborn as art.
Join us again in two weeks as we return to our regular schedule of spellbinding southern legends, beginning with the dreaded Mothman. Your support during this difficult time has been the greatest medicine of all.
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Good evening, my friends. I trust that you've all listened to the last episode of Front Porch Mysteries titled the Date. The outpouring of love and concern from all of you has been overwhelming, and I'm moved beyond belief by the kindnesses we've seen from family, friends and from complete strangers. I know that in the last episode I hinted that we'd be taking a look at the age-old southern legend of the Mothman. This creature is as elusive and improbable as Bigfoot. Still accounts persist of run-ins with Mothman, so we have to explore them, don't we? I had hoped that be bringing that episode to you within two weeks of the head-on collision, but my body and my physicians had other ideas. If you don't mind, then I'll share with you the things that have taken place since the date ended so abruptly on June 25th. Oh, and then I'll share a little tidbit with you that will leave you with something to think about in the daylight. That will leave you with something to think about in the daylight.
Speaker 1:The month of July is a foggy haze to me, as doctors were using some high-powered pain medications to keep me comfortable in the weeks following the wreck. Both of my legs were broken, one with several compound fractures, as were both of my ankles, my kneecaps, four ribs and my left hand. I learned recently that my left foot had been surgically reattached. My family kept several things from me throughout this journey and I suppose I'm glad that they did. I got a fleeting glimpse of my legs and feet before I lost consciousness inside our car back on June 25th, but later I thought I had imagined the images I saw A bare foot splayed at an odd angle, big white bones I'd never seen before. The damage was extensive. In the hospital, anytime nurses or techs had to move me for any reason, I was in pure agony. I've done my share of screaming and moaning this summer and I've learned that those sounds are simply natural reactions to the movement of freshly broken bones crushed ankles and compound fractures. Bones crushed ankles and compound fractures. I've heard people scream or make similar noises to get attention or to overreact, but I've never until now heard those sounds coming from myself, almost as if I were watching this nightmare from a distance. These sounds came from me just as naturally as a hiccup or a giggle might. I had no control over them. I was in the hospital for exactly one month. I've been home for about three weeks now and the road has been a bit rocky. At least I'm surrounded by my husband, my children, our dogs and our wonderful friends. I truly believe that healing comes more naturally and more quickly at home. I'm happy to share that. Doctors expect complete recovery from me and they're hopeful that I can begin physical therapy in late October. They tell me that I will walk again.
Speaker 1:I will say that one of the biggest demons to arise from this incident was the matter of insurance. My healing was going well in the hospital because of the world-class care I received there, but when I was deemed medically stable I was discharged, not because my doctors were in a hurry to release me, but because my health insurance company demanded the release, and I agree. The plan all along was for me to go straight to an acute rehabilitation facility to help me work to regain the ability to walk again. However, two broken legs, two broken ankles and a broken hand do not lend themselves to such intense rehab. My body must heal to a point that I can begin climbing that mountain. I can't even stand on my feet and legs until late October. In other words, my body is too broken to be rehabilitated right now. My insurance company's solution to that was go home and good luck. We received a hospital bed and a wheelchair for help.
Speaker 1:Our health insurance, which my husband acquired through his employer, does not pay for any type of nursing care or help of any kind. My husband works full-time. Our children have their own children and jobs. They're here as often as they can be, but let's face it, I am completely disabled right now and I need constant care. We're able to pay for that for a few weeks, but after that I'm honestly not sure what we'll do. And let's face it, we're very fortunate to be able to pay about $5,500 a week for at-home care, even for a few weeks. There are more families in this country who can't do that, and what do they do in such a situation? Every time I go to a follow-up doctor appointment, we pay about $250 for medical transport because my legs don't bend enough to sit and ride in a car.
Speaker 1:Insurance does not help to pay for that either. We were not at fault in this accident. We carry both automobile insurance and health insurance, which we're forced to carry right. We pay a lot of money for these insurances because we have to, and this is what happens when you need the supposed benefits of these insurances. I suggest you all. Talk with your lawmakers about the fact that insurance companies override physicians' orders and prescribe medications. I suggest you talk with them about passing laws that place the insurance company's interests above the individual's. Talk with them about putting a patient at risk by sending her home to fend for herself instead of at least helping to pay for minimal in-home care, of at least helping to pay for minimal in-home care. Insurance companies must be reined in because right now they're out of control. They dictate everything concerning your health care, your well-being, and that should alarm every one of us. Okay, enough of that for our purposes here. When I begin to let the insurance leviathan creep into this life-altering experience, I stop it cold and I go back to my stance of gratitude and thankfulness. I survived a horrific head-on collision. We did, and that alone is a blessing. We'll navigate the rest of the road as it comes.
Speaker 1:I've had a lot to think about while in this hospital bed. My wheels have been spinning for weeks, pulling up files and tabbing research that my amazing partner has found for this podcast. Yes, the next full episode will be about the Mothman, simply because the terrifying creature can't be ignored when discussing Southern legends. When my brain is again firing on all cylinders. You'll get that episode. Right now. I don't trust my reading and comprehension. While I'm on pain medications that sometimes make me hallucinate and usually make me confuse and forget facts. Very soon I won't need them any longer, so I hope you'll hang with me. Our stories and journeys are too intriguing to walk away from. In the meantime, here's something I want you to think about.
Speaker 1:In Atlanta, georgia, there's a two-and-a-half-mile hiking trail in a place called Constitution Lakes Park. The trail is only about 10 years old. It was created by Joel Slayton, a builder, who began exploring the park and was both intrigued and dismayed by what he found. Many bird species call the park home, and the natural beauty is breathtaking. However, in a remote area of the park, he also found trash and junk, things like discarded appliances, bicycle parts, bottles and clay tiles A hint at the area's industrial days. So Slayton built something there, because, as a builder, that's what he does. The first vignette he built was made from an old stove and pieces of a washing machine. And Slayton found something else in this remote area Doll parts, pieces of dolls that had been discarded over the years Mostly heads, legs and arms, but oddly no torsos. Slayton kept building with dismembered doll parts and other items of interest he found in the park, including old brickwork left there from a quarry that hasn't been active for more than 100 years. With the county's approval, the trail and its treasures began to grow. Other people began adding to Slayton's collection using doll heads and parts, discarded appliances and machine parts. It's quite an experience to be walking the trail at dusk and come upon a collection of tires and metal and a baby doll's glassy blue eyes staring back at you.
Speaker 1:Doll's Head Trail in Atlanta is a wonderful example of how we can reclaim nature from our own careless actions. People have begun creating vignettes and sculptures. Some call them interesting and some call them downright spooky, but this odd tribute to discarded trash and toys has inspired locals and visitors to clean up the park, to remove some trash and repurpose more. Clean up the park to remove some trash and repurpose more. If you're ever in the area, I encourage you to walk the loop of Doll's Head Trail. A doll head and chubby doll's arm mark the beginning of the trail.
Speaker 1:Do it in late afternoon, when the shadows are long and the sun's rays take on a different quality, softer and more golden, with a little bit of magic thrown in. Walk carefully so you don't miss any of the artful and, yes, sometimes spooky creations. As the shadows stretch out longer and the sunlight softens and gives way to the shadows and the dark stand very still. Close your eyes and listen. You'll hear the faint rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. You might hear the traffic that's close, but seek so far away when you're inside the park.
Speaker 1:And there's something else. Keep your eyes closed. There are the voices voices soft and childlike, some giggling, some cooing and some quietly crying. They tell the story of an area of Atlanta that's long forgotten. They tell their own stories of being loved and treasured by a child, then being discarded as nothing more than trash and then being brought back to life as unique and unusual art. You should go, pay them a visit, but take along a friend just in case.
Speaker 1:I hope you'll join me next time as we do indeed explore the legend and accounts of the mysterious and dreaded Mothman and from that episode on plan to tune in every two weeks as we once again bring you spellbinding and captivating fables that are woven throughout the South. We want to thank you once again for your kindness and your patience while I and our entire team gathered ourselves and I prepared for the long road to recovery. God bless my team and I used my own experiences along my journey of healing following our devastating head-on collision to tell part of the story. We used personal experience and the accounts of others to tell you about Dolls Head Trail in Atlanta. We also used the article titled Atlanta's Dolls Head Trail is an eerily cool trailside attraction with a great cause, published in Rails to Trails Conservancy.
