Perhaps in a few years, each of us will look back and tell of the moment we realized that this economy was spiraling in an exceptional and dreadful way.
When that time comes, I will remember a party out in the ‘burbs of Atlanta last summer. The wife and I were accidental attendees, courtesy of a couple we knew from high school.
The mansion was a multi-million dollar monument to the Southern high life, with countless kitchens and bedrooms and sitting rooms, never mind the home theater, servant quarters, sauna, indoor-outdoor pools and breathless view.
Liquor flowed free. Caterers offered acres of food. Music was non-stop. A dance troupe performed. And the house interior was dressed to the nines – because the party was in fact a last-chance business proposition.
The owner was a developer who had bet that the South’s love affair with growth, its ability to lure a ceaseless tide of newcomers into a sunny and economical embrace, would continue as it has for nearly 50 years.