Cover photo of City Hall in Savannah, Georgia.
By Suzana Ward
Fine Artist and Author of Happy Great Day® Self-Care Habits to Create A Beautiful Life
This article was originally published on November 2, 2020, but it had to be rebuilt — because in 2025, a cyberhacker who gained access to my passwords stole hunks of text from blogs, precious photos, digital art, and plenty more. I started over quietly, selling fine jewelry while revising parts of my work. It took eight months to feel like myself again and to trust my voice.
To everyone who has subscribed: thank you. It was a long time before I could even look at this website without feeling violated. Your support reminded me that people can still be kind. I promise you that I will try my absolute best to pay that feeling forward.
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Experiencing exquisite art in public spaces can be a form of self-care that is accessible to all people. Please support public art.
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Bobby Ward and I were born one day apart and displayed side by side in the same baby window at Savannah’s old Telfair Hospital, behind the Sentient Bean building. His mother is named Ann Ward, as is the Ann Ward whom I am fairly confident gave birth to me. “Mama Love” laughed loudly when she told me there was a lot of explaining to relatives that, no, she didn’t have twins. She said she only remembers one “Ward sign” hanging over our heads with two little arrows pointing to the “Boy” and the “Girl.”
I grew up through grade school with Bobby. We rode on the same school bus and had classes together, but I eventually lost track of him. Someone told me he became an insurance agent in Richmond Hill, Georgia, but my internet stalking attempt to find him was unsuccessful. We Wards can be quite stealthlike. But for the sake of transparency, I admit I didn’t do an exhaustive search. Frankly, it would have been horrifying to see a photo of him as an adult who looks more like my parents than I do. Finding Bobby might be a bigger surprise than I can handle.
I’ve had a lot of shockers, both good and bad, since moving back to “The Jewel Of The South.” Nearly every day, I walk past the building that was formerly the hospital where Bobby and I were born. But today it’s known as the Telfair Arms Apartments for Seniors.
What you don’t see in the photo above is Savannah’s free historic district shuttle parked in front of my beloved birthplace. I hopped into position for this picture just as passengers were loading for take-off, and got the feeling some of the people below that balcony thought I might toss Mardi Gras Beads (?)
On that note, I’ve worn my share of green beads. At the stroke of midnight when we ring in the upcoming new year in Savannah, people from around the world will immediately start counting down to our epic Saint Patrick’s Day celebration on March 17th. There are actually a lot of tall-tale-talkers in Savannah who claim they have authentic Irish heritage. But these posers rarely spare the truth at the expense of a good story. I, on the other hand, actually do have a real drop or two of Irish blood (at least according to the woman named Ann Ward who claims to be my mother).
Most Savannah locals own at least a couple of green Saint Patrick’s Day ensembles. I wish I’d taken a photo back in the old days when Savannah’s City Hall dome was green. But as a lover of all things good luck and leprechauns, I rather fancy that it’s now covered in 23 karat gold.
It’s always fun to ride a bicycle around downtown in Savannah after a light rain. That’s my old clunker in the bottom right corner…
I could reminisce for many pages about sweet times in this town, but I’ll leave you with this one last story about how things are changing: The famous Savannah waving girl statue will soon be moved to the new Plant Riverside project on the other end of River Street. When I sold Savannah real estate, my dad made video shorts of me talking about my listings. Real estate advertisements can be a snore fest, so I tried to make mine more interesting by weaving in details about the city’s history.
Every time I see the picture below from one of our shoots, I remember how seriously he took our little home-spun productions. What you can’t see here is Dad in front of me, hunched over his tripod and film equipment. He was usually dressed like a low-country gentleman, in khakis and a simple navy polo shirt, his favorite Sperry Top-sider boating shoes, and dark aviator sunglasses. My father would make dramatic hand signals to our onlookers to back off, then flip his baseball cap backward and bark, “Quiet on the set! Quiet on the set!” before starting a new take.
I was grateful that those look-seers were probably Savannah visitors rather than local friends who might tease me later. My father was a larger-than-life character with a deep, booming voice. I can remember asking him to go easier on those tourists when he came over to mike check me. Oh, what I would give right now to see him lost in his magically offensive creative zone like that just one more time.
Sculptor Felix de Weldon created this statue of the iconic “Waving Girl.” Florence Martus was known as the longtime unofficial greeter of Savannah’s ships. She waved at sailors between 1887 and 1931.
Savannah is the place I will always call “home.” But I’m not alone in my adoration for “The Hostess City.” America’s largest historic district has won international acclaim as one of the most physically beautiful destinations in the world.
This article is dedicated to all of the talented artists who create stunning public art as a simple way for others to experience the freedom of imagination.
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