The man in front of me at lunch to get his lunch plate like me was talking to the lady he was with about Franklin Roosevelt's second White House in Warm Springs, Georgia, how the warm springs would ease FDR's leg pain from his polio.

At first I was thrilled that this man who seemed to know what he was talking about might be an historian but my hope never happened when I realized he was not an historian but had just visited recently and was just thrilled to see Warm Springs.

I wanted to chime in, "Yeah, he died there and with his girlfriend Lucy Rutherfurd which Eleanor found out about later and he would drive around with his totally manually operated car and his last words were I have a terrific headache." But I refrained myself from butting into their conversation.

Why have I never been to Warm Springs, Georgia?