O.Henry November 2015

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Every home has a story to tell. A great broker knows every chapter by heart. Whether big or small, we know the details of your life’s story matter. That’s why our brokers work diligently to get to know you and what’s important to you in the purchase or sale of your home. Our full service approach redefines home buying, selling, and ownership by integrating all the elements of the transaction into a seamless real estate experience — allowing you the peace of mind to focus on your happy ending.

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2015 Wolfe Holiday Home 527 Woodland Drive

See what passion can build. Wolfe Homes invites you to take a tour of our 2015 Holiday House. Proceeds to benefit Greensboro Fellows Ministry. Admission requires a minimum donation of $5 per person.

Open for Public Tours From Noon to 7 PM November 23rd - December 30th Closed - November 26th, December 24th & 25th

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Overflowing breakfast buffet

November 2015 Features

76 Aumtun Homecoming

By Ogi Overman At Summerfield Farms, an autumn evening to remember

61 How Do Birds Fly

Poetry by Steve Cushman

78 The House That Chose Her

62 The Great Harvest Meal Challenge

By Cynthia Adams Beth Deloria and Jim Austin find true community in a bungalow beauty — and the inspiration to pay it forward

By Nancy Oakley Five chefs, five ingredients. . . Let’s eat!

68 The Honeydrippers

89 November Almanac

By Nancy Oakley

70 God’s Little Acre

By Jim Dodson For self-schooled gardener Rachel Rees, the key to a bountiful life was letting loose the joy — and artist — in her own soul

Departments 11 Simple Life By Jim Dodson 14 Short Stories 17 Doodad By Ogi Overman 19 O.Harry By Harry Blair 21 Life’s Funny By Maria Johnson 23 Omnivorous Reader By Brian Lampkin 27 Scuppernong Bookshelf 31 The Pleasures of Life Dept. By Nancy Oakley 33 Vine Wisdom By Robyn James 34 The Evolving Species By Harry Blair

By Rosetta Fawley Bewitching witch hazel, Old-Fashioned gingerbread and an Old-Fashioned Cocktail

47 Pappadaddy’s Mindfield By Clyde Edgerton

49 A Novel Year By Wiley Cash

51 Birdwatch

By Susan Campbell

53 Life of Jane By Jane Borden

92 Arts & Entertainment November Calendar 119 Worth the Drive to High Point By Nancy Oakley

1 21 GreenScene 127 Accidental Astrologer By Astrid Stellanova

128 O.Henry Ending By Sam Walker

41 Gate City Journal By Nancy Bartholomew

Cover photograph by John Gessner Photograph this page by Amy Freeman

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November 2015

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Art for Eyes | Eye for Arts Fine Eyewear, Artwork and Jewelry 327 South Elm | Greensboro 336.274.1278 | TheViewOnElm.com Becky Causey, Licensed Optician Find us on Facebook

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M A G A Z I N E Volume 5, No. 11 “I have a fancy that every city has a voice.” 336.617.0090 1848 Banking Street Greensboro, NC 27408 www.ohenrymag.com Jim Dodson, Editor jim@ohenrymag.com Andie Stuart Rose, Art Director andie@ohenrymag.com

Matthew D. Olin, MD

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Nancy Oakley, Senior Editor nancy@ohenrymag.com Lauren Shumaker, Graphic Designer Alyssa Rocherolle, Graphic Designer Contributing Editors Cynthia Adams, Harry Blair, Maria Johnson Contributing Photographers Lynn Donovan, Amy Freeman, John Gessner Contributors Nancy Bartholomew, Jane Borden, Susan Campbell, Wiley Cash, Steve Cushman, Clyde Edgerton, Rosetta Fawley, Molly Sentell Haile, Robyn James, Sara King, Brian Lampkin, Meridith Martens, Ogi Overman, Astrid Stellanova, Sam Walker David Claude Bailey, Editor at Large

O.H David Woronoff, Publisher

Scan to watch an interactive video of a partial knee replacement.

Advertising Sales Marty Hefner, Sales Director 336.707.6893, mhefner@ohenrymag.com Hattie Aderholdt, 336.601.1188 hattie@ohenrymag.com Lisa Allen, 336.210.6921 lisa@ohenrymag.com Amy Grove, 336.456.0827 amy@ohenrymag.com Circulation Darlene Stark, Circulation Director 910.693.2488 Advertising Graphic Design Dana Martin, 336.617.0090 dana@ohenrymag.com

For more information about Dr. Olin and surgery visit www.GreensboroOrthopaedics.com

8 O.Henry

November 2015

Subscriptions 336.617.0090 ©Copyright 2015. Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission is prohibited. O.Henry Magazine is published by The Pilot LLC

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

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© 2015 High Point Bank and Trust Company. Member FDIC


Simple Life

Into the Unknown By Jim Dodson

This month, quite

rightly, we celebrate Veterans Day and gather round a harvest table to enjoy the fruits of the Earth and give thanks for our many blessings.

Something about the soulful days of November invites reflection on the sweet mystery of human life and the brevity of our own shortening days — why we came and where we may be headed on an unknown journey that has fueled the imagination of sages and poets across the millennia. Not surprisingly, the topic also deeply fascinated my dear friend and mentor John Jasper Derr, who passed away on a beautiful summer evening this year. Some of us who knew him well called him the Ageless One-Derr. Near the end of his days, Ben Franklin remarked that a long life might not be good enough, but a good life is long enough. My friend John enjoyed the good fortune of both — a long and remarkably productive life. He was just past his 97th birthday the summer evening he watched American Pharoah gallop home to win the 147th Belmont Stakes and claim the first Triple Crown in thirty-eight years, then slumped in his armchair at home in the Tennis Club of North Carolina. Whatever else is true, this seems a divinely orchestrated exit for a man who as the first head of CBS Sports helped lure the Kentucky Derby to the small screen in the early 1950s and went on to convince his network bosses in New York to broadcast the first college football game — the Rose Bowl — on TV a short time later. Eventually, he even wooed a reluctant Cliff Roberts and Bobby Jones into televising professional golf when both were convinced it would never work. Dirty Derr, as I liked to call him, was a pioneer of broadcasting who shaped the way our games are played and enjoyed by millions across the planet today. Dirty Derr was something of an inside joke between us, the nickname this dapper son of a Gastonia postman used as a Golden Gloves bantam weight boxer prior to service during the Second World War. This was about the time he and my dad met at the Greensboro Daily News, where John was the assistant sports editor and my father was the aviation writer and ad salesman. My dad was a Golden Gloves boxer as well — “Battling Brax” was his ringside handle. They became friends before going their separate ways to serve a nation going to war. John wound up working for a general in the Pacific theater and returned home to become a sidekick of Arthur Godfrey and colleague of Red Barber on CBS Radio. My old man became a glider pilot for the 8th Army Air Corps and came home after the liberation of France to work at the Washington Star before he set off on a newspaperman’s odyssey that carried him through the deep South and eventually brought my family home to North Carolina. The funny thing is, I never knew these two remarkable fellows knew each

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

other until I stopped off in my old boyhood haunt of Pinehurst fifteen years ago to ask John about golf legend Ben Hogan, a reluctant star he knew better than probably any other reporter. After helping Arnold Palmer write his memoirs, I’d been asked by the estate of Hogan — the most elusive sports star in American history — to write the first authorized biography of a little man who fantaically shielded his life from view. Truthfully, I felt that I was a far better match with Arnold Palmer than the cold and forbidding Ben Hogan. But I knew John Derr would have a good opinion on that. Needless to say, during our dinner at the beloved Pine Crest Inn, John urged me to take on the daunting biography and treated me to a host of un-heard Hogan stories, the first of probably thirty hours of conversations I would have with the great One-Derr over the next fifteen years. He provided me invaluable insight that shaped three of my six golf books, two of which won Book of the Year honors. At one point that first evening at the Pine Crest, he also casually mentioned that he fondly remembered my father, who’d recently passed on and was the subject of my recent book, Final Rounds. He told me, with a roguish twinkle, that they shared a love of baseball and amateur boxing and “extremely good tastes in women,” not to mention that both were sharp dressers. I remember listening and thinking how similar, in fact, they truly were, these dapper gents — self-made sons of rural Carolina who ventured into an unknown world with brimming spirits and strong curiosity and the kind of endless optimism they believed were the engine fuels of human success. They even physically resembled each other, bald and dapper fellows who loved to spin stories and drew a crowd wherever they happened to be. Both loved to write doggerel verse and fancied a mildly blue joke. Also that night, after I casually mentioned that I hoped to move home to Greensboro someday in the future, Dirty Derr suggested that I consider moving home to Pinehurst first. I asked him why. “Because, dear boy, old golf writers never really die,” he provided with that same roguish smile. “They just move to Pinehurst and lose their balls. Save Greensboro for your funeral!” After my wife and I moved to Southern Pines, One-Derr became a regular Sunday night supper guest at our house, regaling our grown children and other lucky guests with his rich and varied tales of fascinating people he’d known in the 20th century, a human tapestry that ranged from Gandhi in India to Grace Kelly in Philly, Ted Williams, Sammy Snead, Bing Crosby, Bobby Jones, Ed Murrow and just about every important figure in the news across six decades of his working life. My favorite was the night he met Albert Einstein walking the Yale golf course in the dusk. Derr asked him if he played golf and the wild-haired genius fairly shouted at him, “Heavens, no! It’s much too difficult!” You can read these lovely tales in John’s book called My Place At the Table. Among his many tributes, Augusta National presented him a lifetime achievement award for the sixty-two years he manned the tower on the 15th hole and November 2015

O.Henry 11

Simple Life covered golf’s greatest boutique gathering in print or on radio and TV. As the years passed and John’s health faltered, his spirit never did. On the last night I drove him home to the Tennis Club, he remarked, “James my boy, it’s been a grand and sweeping journey! But I fear I’m about to turn in my press credentials for good and head into the Great Unknown! I have some things I wish to give you.” “That’s nonsense, John,” I told him. “You can’t go anywhere soon. My wife adores you.” He smiled. “And I adore her. By the way, if you happen to predecease me, I have a plan to begin courting Wendy if she’ll have me. Thought I’d just get that out of the way.” “No problem,” I assured him. That evening he gave me a batch of letters from his old colleagues and told me a hilarious joke about a dying man and chocolate chip cookies I now tell on the dinner speech circuit. “I miss writing letters,” he confessed. “Very few things give you as much pleasure as writing and reading a genuine letter, you know.” A few weeks later, John was moved to write one last letter to all of us. It seems one of the positives of life — from the beginning to the end — is that we embark on a journey into the Unknown On that morning of October in 1917, while the world was still rumbling from the cannons and howitzers of the Great War, World War I, that was to bring serenity and peace to the divergent men of different backgrounds, different views of life and different plans for humanity, I was about to descend from the sanctity and peacefulness of my mother’s womb. I was about to go into the Unknown. That was 1917, a long time ago. Each day is another opportunity to grow. Each day [is] an experience new to me but old to the world. I welcomed the adventures of walking, of talking, of being happy and living. I went into the Unknown.

Always something new. Learning life was a major goal — uncertain but anxiously awaited. Then, with the confidence and bravado acquired in youth, curious of the world around me, I knew it was a big world and I was but a small part of it. Life took on a new meaning and I enjoyed telling others what I saw, how I felt, what I knew and sharing this new role. Everything fascinated me and I enjoyed sharing with others who were also going along into the Unknown. There was a reason I was not athletic and an avid participant in sports. My Unknown was observing and reporting what I saw. My stage grew larger but the mystery remained. Then I learned I could describe events for others, those not able to be with me at each stop I spirited from those who preceded me. They, too, gave me the curiosity and ability to do my job and move on, the strength and desire to move on into the Unknown. One day I was called by my government to serve our military forces. It was a major change of life but an adventure I had not planned. Who could? There was pride in that uniform. Not bravery so much as pride. But when the bugle sounded I was in a new scenario, uncertain but eager again to head into the Unknown. India. CBS. PGA. Broadcasting. The snow on Mt. Everest. The Crown of Taj Mahal. The float down the Nile River. Lost in the Pyramids. Olympics. Masters. Life. Into the Great Unknown. The great One-Derr jotted these grateful words on a scrap of paper as he sat outside waiting for a ride from a friend taking him to a radio interview, his final reporter’s entry — two days before he passed away. OH Contact editor Jim Dodson at jim@ohenrymag.com.

1310 Westover Terrace #109 Greensboro, NC 27408

336-279-9041 12 O.Henry

November 2015

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

LIKE CHRISTMAS? At Ward Black Law, we love Christmas, and we start celebrating with our annual toy drive for the United States Marine Corps. Would you like to join in? Bring a new, unwrapped toy or a donation to benefit the Marines’ “Toys for Tots” campaign. Drop by our office during our kick-off celebration Friday, December 4 from 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. We’ll be collecting toys until December 19. It’s a great way to help children in Guilford County. We’d love to see you.




Friday, December 4 7 a.m. - 6 p.m.

208 W. Wendover Ave. Greensboro

Weekdays, Now - December 19 8:30 a.m. - 5 p.m.

Drop off a new, unwrapped toy, or a donation made out to “Marine Toys for Tots Foundation.” Enjoy f00d and fun and thank a Marine.

Ward Black Law is located at the intersection of Wendover Ave. and Virginia Street, near Elm Street.

Can’t make our kick-off event? Our “Toys for Tots” collection continues until December 19.

336.333.2244 wardblacklaw.com 208 W. Wendover Avenue | Greensboro










Lovin’ Spoonful

Art lovers, feast your eyes on the embarrassment of riches at Weatherspoon Art Museum this fall. Winding up its run is Maud Gatewood: Selections, (through Nov. 29). Mid-century sensibility continues to be front-and-center with Puncturing Space: The Prints and Multiples of Richard Artschwager (through December 13). A screening of Richard Artschwager: Shut Up and Look (November 19) focuses on how Artschwager used materials, such as Formica and rubber, to blend pop, conceptualism and minimalism. Speaking of pop, don’t miss the recently launched Pop Art: 20th Century Popular Culture as Muse, featuring the works of favorites Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein among others. For the ubercontemporary, there’s the 2015 UNCG Department of Art Faculty Biennial, specifically “Yellow Pepper Lee Walton’s: Experiential Project” that creates on-the-spot art situations around town; text the words “yellow pepper” to 31996* to learn more. Info: weatherspoon.uncg.edu

Love Story

“From the outside looking in, it probably looks sad,” says Alex James of his family, who were featured in the December, 2013, issue of O.Henry. Since the early 1990s, James has been the primary caretaker of his wife, Liz, who has multiple sclerosis, and his two sons, Matt and Will, who have muscular dystrophy. But James goes on to say in the soon-to-be-released documentary House of Love, “From inside looking out, everything looks pretty good. We don’t compare ourselves to other people. We just live our own lives, and there’s plenty of room for joy.” To experience some of that joy, come to the Carolina Theatre Friday, November 6, for the film’s premier, beginning with a social hour at 6:30 p.m. For details and tickets information: Houseoflovefilm.com or (248) 895-7859

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November 2015

Theirs are stories of heroism and sacrifice, as in the case of U.S. Army Reservist Nicolle Brossard, who aided victims of the Fort Hood, Texas, massacre in 2009. Other tales hint at romance: Judith Nisbit’s choice of wedding dress during World War II — her Navy WAVE dress-white uniform. Others are humorous — the water buffalo that charged the compound where Nancy Christ was working as an Army nurse in Vietnam. These oral histories are part of UNCG Digital Collections’ Betty H. Carter Women Veterans History Project, started “because there was no history of women in World War II and there were almost 4,000 volunteers,” says curator Beth Ann Koelsch. On November 14th you can hear student playwrights’ dramatizations of the stories at the 18th Annual Women Veterans Luncheon at UNCG’s Cone Ballroom — and salute the women who proudly served in uniform. Tickets: (336) 3345838 or uncgfol.blogspot.com.

Locus Pocus

Gingerbread and scones made from Old Mill of Guilford mixes, tea-tastings, courtesy of Vida Pour Tea, Boar and Castle sauce, Moravian cookies . . . On November 14 from 1 p.m until 4 p.m., you can sample local treats and peruse books by familiar names, such as John Batchelor’s Chefs from the Coast and Chefs from the Mountains, at a Greensboro Historical Museum Shop Special Event. The point, says shop manager Chanel Williams, is to support local artists, some of whom will be demonstrating their crafts. Or rather, eye-candy: scarves, jewelry, pottery, stained glass pieces, soaps, lip balms and a new selection of Christmas ornaments. If you’re a museum member, you’ll receive a 20 percent discount on anything you purchase. “We basically want visitors to leave here excited about the holidays,” says Williams. “And with a full stomach.” Info: (336) 373-2949 or greensborohistory.org.

Worth the Drive to Winston-Salem

At 52, it’s still considered one of the top ten craft shows in the United States in the estimation of American Style Magazine — and little wonder: The Piedmont Craftsmen 52nd Fair includes pieces by 120 artisans who work in various media, including clay, print and photography, and who exhibit nationwide. Selected from a juried process, they include the likes of furniture maker Andy Kearny of South Carolina, Georgia-based potter Timothy Sullivan, who uses multiple, overlapping layers of glaze on works that fairly shimmer, and Kernersville fiber artist Laura Frazier, who raises her own sheep with which to create charming wool animal sculptures. These and other one-of-a-kind works will be on display at the Benton Convention Center in downtown WinstonSalem on November 21 and 22. Info: piedmontcraftsmen.org. The Art & Soul of Greensboro

photographs courtesy of UNCG Women Veterans History Project, Andy Warhol, “Liz”, 1965. Museum purchase with funds from the Benefactors Fund, 1965, E.d.i.a Maps

Short Stories

WAACS-ing Poetic

Tap Quest

The creators and publishers of last year’s Great NC BBQ Map must have developed a powerful thirst. The result: The Great NC Beer Map, a foldable road atlas featuring 181 breweries, 43 craft beer festivals and the skinny on the when, where and what’s on tap. Since 2014, when the Charlotte couple launched Edia Maps, Amanda Fisher, an English major who’s gained street cred in marketing and PR, and Paul Bright, with serious cartography chops in geographic information systems, have scoured the state, sucking down beer, ale, lager, stout, bitters, sours and pilsners. Their infographics, idiotproof symbols and icons provide detailed information on brewery tours, special release dates, pet-friendliness, food availability and whether the breweries are open to the public or are for production only. Separate sections on Asheville, Charlotte and Raleigh offer information such as walking (or crawling) times between breweries. Available at Design Archives Emporium or www.ediamaps.com.

Fabric of a Neighborhood

Ever seen a yarn bomb? The idea, which started a decade ago in Texas and has caught on worldwide, is “a fun, bright and beautiful way to celebrate a public space,” says Kathy Newsom, organizer of Knit the Bridge: Lindley Park. On November 14 a group of “guerilla artists of all ages,” who have been meeting regularly for Knit Ins at Common Grounds coffee shop, The Corner Market farmers’ market, and Scrambled Southern Diner, will install “the softest and most colorful explosion in Lindley Park history.” Be on the lookout for it along the steep and uninviting Walker Avenue bridge above Wendover Avenue that separates the two sides of the neighborhood. Removable and non-damaging, a yarn bomb installation is a creative way to unite a neighborhood, the very reason Lindley Park knitters received a grant from Building Stronger Neighborhoods Foundation for the project, which Newsom describes as “an enormous hug from the hippest grandma ever.” Info: www.facebook.com/ktblindleypark

Where the Heart Is

“A heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others,” says the Tin Man to Dorothy. How beloved the source of his wise words, the 1939 film The Wizard of Oz and its stage adaptation — an annual tradition of Community Theatre of Greensboro for the last twenty-one years. Speaking of love: The couple who played Glenda and the Tin Man fifteen years ago married, moved away and have returned — with their children — to this year’s cast (she as Glenda again, he, as the Cowardly Lion). What’s The Wizard’s universal appeal? “At a time when we seem so troubled, there’s something very pure about this story,” says Mitchel Sommers, CTG’s executive director. “If you have friends and family and love, you have everything.” So if you’re looking for your heart’s desire, you can find it November 14–22 . . . in your own backyard. Tickets: gtsotheatre.org.

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Ogi Sez Ogi Overman As a music lover, one of the things I give thanks for each year is the fertile environment in these parts for enjoying artistry on stage. From the Coliseum to the theaters, from clubs to coffee shops, from street fairs to house concert venues, there is never a dull moment when quality live music is being performed. And here’s the proof:

• November 13, Revolution Mill: Austin, Texas, is for my money the musical mecca in the good ol’ U.S. of A., and Hot Club of Cowtown is one of the reasons why. Triad Acoustic Stage brought them to Mack and Mack last year, and fans were hanging from the rafters. Said promoter Bill Payne, “We’re gonna need bigger rafters.” • November 14, Greensboro Coliseum: This has produced a bigger buzz among Deadheads than the legalization of pot in Colorado. Three of the four surviving members of the Grateful Dead have added guitarist John Mayer, bassist Oteil Burbridge and keyboardist Jeff Chimenti to the mix to form Dead & Company. Far out! • November 19, Blind Tiger: The

Bluegrass Ball may be the biggest show of its kind ever to hit the BT. Del’s boys, The Travelin’ McCourys, plus two ex-Leftover Salmon members, will make this a stumpkickin’ night to remember.

• November 20, High Point Theatre: I’ve not taken Mipso’s new CD, Old Time Reverie, out of my car CD player in two weeks. Acoustic folk and three-part harmony at its finest. • November 28, O. Henry Hotel:

The jazz series at the O. Henry has been expanded to include select Saturdays. If I were you, I’d select Diana Tuffin. If you saw her as the featured vocalist at this year’s John Coltrane International Jazz and Blues Festival, you know why.

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DECEMBER 6, 2015 - JANUARY 15, 2016

Jason Van Duyn, Two Tone Spalted Red Maple Hollow

THE GREATEST PARTY OF THE YEAR E a c h ye ar Wi nter S how bri ngs toge the r 1 2 0 artists from across No r t h C arol i na and beyo n d a nd con sti tu tes a compre he nsive survey of the fine st art and craft s b ei ng p ro d u ce d fo r s a l e. Green hi l l rolls out Winte r Sh ow in sty le w ith the g reatest p ar t y of t he ye a r – Co l l ec to r ’s Ch o i ce, a rare opportunity to me e t & mingle w ith Wi nter Show ar t i st s an d pu rc h a se fa bu l ou s a rt. At G re e nhill, our mission is to promote the vi s ual ar t s of N or t h Ca ro l i n a . When yo u co m e to Colle ctor ’s Choice, you support not only us , b ut t he ar t i st s of our state.

COLLECTOR’S CHOICE Saturday Eve ning, De ce mbe r 5 , 2 01 5 7 :0 0 - 1 1 :00 PM The G alle ry at Gre e nhill $70 for me mbe rs | $85 for non-me mbe rs


Mary Rountree Moore, Fresh Catch | Ben Owen, Genie Bottle



Just Say “yes” to Matty Sheets Work ethic and love of craft keep the multi-faceted musician going


ames Brown might have been the “hardest-working man in show business,” but in the burg of Greensboro, that title belongs to one Matty Sheets. There is hardly a facet of the music business that Sheets does not have his fingers in, and as he edges toward that milestone of 40, his plan is to speed up, not slow down. For starters, he plays with no fewer than six — count ’em, six — bands, chief among them Magpie Thief, his duo with vocalist/banjoist Emily Stewart, in which he sings and plays guitar, kick drum and tambourine. Sheets also plays drums with Emily’s own band, the Baby Teeth. He plays with two more acts, hard rock band the Fumble Muckers and singer-songwriter Laila Nur. Plus, he plays bass with experimental folk rock band Vaughn Aed, as well as fronting his longstanding-but-occasionally-playing ensemble, Come Hell or High Water. While most area fans know Sheets from his stage exploits, many aspiring upand-comers know him (and owe him a debt of gratitude) for hosting an open mic night for the past eleven years. For nine years it was held at the Flatiron, and since the past two, you can catch it every Tuesday at New York Pizza on Tate Street. Meanwhile, for the past three years listeners have been tuning him in as host of the radio program Gate City Port Authority (formerly Avant Air), which airs on Thursdays from 7–9 p.m. on WUAG, 103.1 FM. Although Sheets has been actively engaged as a musician ever since dropping out of UNCG in 1995, he admits to stepping it up a notch after an epiphany a couple of years ago. He watched the mother of his girlfriend at the time die of cancer, an experience that irreversibly changed his outlook. “It was a rough time and I definitely went through something,” he says. “I realized that would be me some day and decided I wanted to leave something behind. So I stopped saying ‘no’ to anything and started playing as much as I possibly could.” Since then, Sheets has released a well-received album, “Sea Legs”, with his now-defunct band the Blockheads and has another on the shelf. He is currently working on a solo album at Randy Seals’ Top of the World Studios. It will be called “Sheeps” and is slated for a spring 2016 release. “I feel very fortunate to be able to do what I do,” he says. “If it has to do with music, I just say ‘yes.’” Matty Sheets and Emily Stewart will be playing at GIA on New Garden Road on November 14th and 28th. — Ogi Overman

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

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The Art & Soul of Greensboro

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Bearly There

Life’s Funny

Suited up and ready to roar — or faint

By Maria Johnson

“We could give out bear claws!”

“YEAH!” “We could hand out Gummi Bears!” “YEAH!” “We could get someone to dress up in a bear costume!” “YEAH!” Everyone was excited by these ideas, and no one was drinking. We were in the middle of a brainstorming session for One City, One Book, a community reading campaign that’s organized every other year by the Greensboro Public Library. This year’s selection, A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson, tells the tale of Bryson and a buddy who hiked the Appalachian Trail — or as a friend put it, “hitchhiked the Appalachian Trail” once they realized how long 2,150 miles really is. Our committee was kicking around ways to pique interest at public events. Our attention had landed on the book cover, which features a bear. I don’t remember who threw out the costume idea. But I do remember that I was the person who said, “YEAH!” Obviously, I’d forgotten how committees work. Flash-forward to yours truly driving around town and making phone calls to scare up a bear costume. Did I have real work to do instead? Absolutely. Is there anything I’d rather do when faced with real work than track down a bear costume? Not really. I learned a lot in the process. For instance, if you’re trying to explain to the manager of a children’s teddy bear store why you should be able to use their life-size bear costume for free, and the manager asks you if it’s a children’s book you’re promoting, the best answer is probably not, “Ehhhh . . .” And when you think you’ve located a great costume because the owner of an out-of-town shop texts you a picture of a very realistic bear head, don’t get swept away and go around the house dancing and singing, “That’s the way, uh-huh, uh-huh, I like it. . .” because seconds later the shop owner will text you a picture of the rest of the costume, which will be a different color of “fur” and look like a Halloween costume your mother made in 1968. Which is why, you’ll understand, I was so relieved to find Bob Smithey, the manager of At The Ritz Costumes in Greensboro, right under my snout. For some reason, I thought the store had closed, but then someone pointed out that it was still near UNCG on a stretch of Spring Garden Street between a couple of hookah shops — which, you know, really narrowed it down. Anyway, Bob had just the costume: a thickly padded teddy bear that was not too Pooh, but not too grizzly either, plus — and this was key — the head matched the rest of the body. Now, all we had to do was

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

find someone to wear the suit at public events. I asked my younger son, explaining that when I was a kid, everyone got a summer job suffocating inside a bear costume on 90-degree days. “It was fun,” I assured him. He stared at me. Then he said he was busy. For the rest of the summer. I appealed to my friends with teenagers. We finally found one gulli-, I mean gallant young man, a wonderful physical comic named Ben, who wore the bear costume in July at The City Market in the South End Ben did a super job. He mugged. He posed for photos with people. He high-fived little kids. He attracted a lot of attention. On breaks, he removed the bear head — which, incidentally had no air vents other than the meshcovered eye holes — and drank water. A lot of water. He also laughed. To the layman, it might have appeared that Ben was gasping for air, but he was laughing. Definitely laughing. Unfortunately, Ben was not available for the rest of the summer because his grandmother had a birthday every weekend until Ben went to college. I think you know where this is heading. Yup, just me and the library ladies, devoted readers all, taking turns in the bear costume. Oh, the doors that literacy opens. My hitch came one weekend during a One City, One Book kick-off event at the Central Library. It wasn’t so bad. It was indoors. A bluegrass band was playing. I danced around a little. Waved. Talked like Scooby-Doo. Made a couple of little kids cry. You know, standard bear stuff. Again, it was a learning experience. Here are a few of the things I now know. • Never wear perfume on the day you don a hollow bear head. It will concentrate what would normally be a faint whiff of loveliness into a noxious cloud that will make you hate Coco Chanel forever. • Don’t think about who might have worn an unwashable costume before you. • You would be amazed at how many adults want to have their pictures taken with someone in a bear suit. • Forget college athletes; college mascots and Chickfil-A cows need a union. As with anything, once you’ve experienced it, people who have had similar experiences come out of the woodwork. During one of my breaks, I chatted with a library worker who recounted how he’d once dressed up inside a Clifford the Big Red Dog costume for a children’s event at a branch library. Inside the stifling dog head, his own head swam. He felt woozy. The next thing he knew, he was on his back. The dog head was off. His co-workers fanned him. Children huddled in a corner, crying. They had, after all, just seen their hero keel over and then have his head wrenched off, revealing a clammy and unfamiliar character. “You know,” he said dolefully, “I doubt they ever read another Clifford book.” He was sad about this as only a librarian could be. OH If you want Maria Johnson to wear a bear suit at your next event, too bad. She’s busy. But you can send your own sweaty mascot stories to maria@ohenrymag.com. November 2015

O.Henry 21

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The Omnivorous Reader

Bland Simpson Country

With Little Rivers and Waterway Tales, the little-known waters of Eastern North Carolina come alive with beauty and danger

By Brian Lampkin

It’s all about the journey.

Pointless paddles up and down nearly forgotten creeks, idle picnics on a triangle of land at the place where the river begins to taste of the sea, sightings of osprey and alligator for no purpose other than the joy of seeing osprey and alligator in their North Carolina digs. We all have reasons for moving; Bland Simpson moves through these muddy waters for no better reason than to feel alive.

Simpson’s new book (with photography by his wife and paddling companion Ann Cary Simpson), Little Rivers and Waterway Tales: A Carolinian’s Eastern Streams (UNC Press, 2015, $30), explores territory that matters to very few of us anymore, territory that may in fact disappear altogether as the sea begins its climactic invasion of the North Carolina coast. He begins in the Upper Pasquotank River of his childhood, moves down the coast through various years and many separate trips, and spends individual chapters on each river encountered, including the Cashie, Scuppernong (yeah!), Milltail Creek, White Oak, Black, Lumber and many others. Eastern North Carolina — like Edward Abbey’s southern Utah or Wendell Berry’s central Kentucky — has become Bland Simpson country. The land and water of the coastal plain have been described and inscribed by Simpson to the point that any trip through the terrain brings him to mind. He’s everywhere in the east: His haunting song plays at the Estuarium in Little Washington; his books sit haphazardly on a community table at Blackbeard’s Inn on Ocracoke; he’s the recent recipient of the East Carolina University Roberts Award for literary inspiration. He’s written The Art & Soul of Greensboro

books on the Great Dismal Swamp, the great Sounds of the coast and Inner Banks, and a history of the area pre-Civil War. With Simpson as a tour guide through these blackwaters and swamps, you know you’re in good, knowledgeable company. The journey will be worthwhile. Edward Abbey tirelessly bemoaned the “discovery” of Southern Utah by hikers and nature lovers; it was better off without humans. Simpson is much less misanthropic — he likes the company of people and has great respect for the working lives these rivers once supported. He’ll periodically drop in on a still working fish house or marvel at the human craft apparent in a well-made boat. And he’s always glad for the companionship of a fellow traveler. At times, reading Little Rivers allows you to share reveries like this: “If anyone were ever wanting for the loveliness of a little river defined, here it was: a dark stream drifting down out of a great swamp, an antique port town set like a dream at the river’s last narrows, an estuarine bay aborning right there where we floated, one man, one woman, one boat full of romance and the knowingness of a wondrous place from over a lifetime, and this vivid warm gray autumn afternoon just as the cypress eternal were once again beginning to turn gold.” But the book is not all so idyllic. Hurricane Floyd’s trip up the eastern plain in 1999 is repeatedly referenced in Little Rivers. The aftermath of the flood made clear just how isolated these parts of Eastern North Carolina are. For days, no one outside the devastated towns and communities knew of the disaster underway. Towns like Tarboro, Conetoe, Chocowinity, etc. were cut off from the outside world and it was like no one cared. When the Raleigh TV stations finally started covering the flood, they mispronounced many of the town names because they had never heard of them before. Simpson chronicles the eroded life of these river towns without ever condescending to judge the lives of people who still live among poverty. November 2015

O.Henry 23

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November 2015

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The Omnivorous Reader

Often we’ll be wandering downstream with the Simpsons and before you know it we’re immersed in the history of the bridge under which they’re know drifting. There is no overarching narrative to carry us along so Simpson meanders through histories of place, which he handles deftly and lightly so you’re hardly aware you’re learning plenty about the Tuscarora Wars or the engineering feat of an eighth-mile loading platform. For me, the best chapter is “Sweetheart Stream,” which chronicles the misnamed Lumber River (it was once the Lumbee River). Simpson intersects with General Sherman’s crossing of the Lumber in 1865, but goes on to describe the Robin Hood–like adventures of the Lowrie Gang — an outlaw band of the Lumbee tribe wreaking havoc against “Confederates and ex-Confederates, against the white slavocracy that had abused the Lumbee.” What’s missing from this book? Why the river so mighty they had to name it twice: the Tar/ Pamlico. But that’s a personal quibble. There’s a really useful “Selected Sources” at the back of the book and I found myself turning to the maps over and over again as I tried to position the exact location of this whirlpool or that riverside cemetery. It’s unlikely, of course, that UNC Press has a bestseller on its hands. There’s not much sex, and while there’s plenty of historical violence of the worst kind, the only real present-tense threat is from a six-foot alligator willing to protect its watery ground. There’s also no first-person drama that will resolve in the redemptive change of the heroic narrator. Simpson’s too old for that nonsense. But this is why the best university presses exist. Projects like Bland and Ann Cary Simpson’s probably have no place in the big publishing world, but surely quiet beauty and resurrected histories of neglected places need voice. Ann’s photos (along with some archival images) add to a sense of a place out of time and perhaps out of step with the times. In his “Coda,” Simpson makes one more claim for the necessity of this book: It is a call to arms in the fight to “keep our little rivers healthy, and holy, and hold them close in the deepest chambers of our hearts.” Sea level rise threatens all that Simpson holds dear, but solutions to this looming crisis must first acknowledge the value of what needs saving. Little Rivers and Waterway Tales stakes a claim for Eastern North Carolina’s worth, and very little of it is monetary. We need this book to argue on the behalf of beauty as reason enough, a beauty our children and grandchildren deserve as well. OH Brian Lampkin is one of the owners of Scuppernong Books in Greensboro. The Art & Soul of Greensboro

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

November 2015

O.Henry 25

the burlington school

Scuppernong Bookshelf

Celebrating Press 53 November Books

There is a tendency to di-

minish what is closest to us. In literary circles, the so-called “local writer” is immediately understood as somehow inferior — or certainly not to be considered “serious” in the pretentious manner literary people affect when they say “serious.” It’s nonsense, of course, because we’re all local to somewhere. Do you suppose conversations in Mississippi once began with, “Faulkner’s not bad for an Oxford guy, but he’s no Twain.”? Yes, probably they did. Is Fred Chappell any less of a writer because he’s a Greensboro writer? Just let us have front row seats when you suggest such a thing to Mr. Chappell.

We can judge local work just as we judge work from other locales, but we can’t predict the near-at-hand as necessarily less worthy. It’s lazy, at the very least — likely revealing of issues of self-worth, but no one likes an armchair psychologist. And, OK, we know there is an equal and opposite force that The Art & Soul of Greensboro

determines anything locally grown is suddenly worthy of glorification beyond reason. Let’s generously assume we’re neither anti-local snobs nor local yokel boosters, but perfectly modulated reviewers. For the last ten years in WinstonSalem, we’ve had a local publisher producing fiction and poetry of interest to a worldwide audience. Press 53 opened in October of 2005 (the first book was a collection of short fiction called Whiskey Nipple by Doug Frelke, $14) and has been producing award-winning gems ever since. This month, we’ll focus on great Press 53 titles of the last decade, and a few new ones coming soon. Publisher Kevin Watson made a brilliant decision early on: He resurrected John Ehle’s out-of-print 1964 classic novel The Land Breakers. The reissue resulted in a hand-written letter from Harper Lee who thanked Watson for reprinting one of her favorite novels. Press 53 was on the map. They later reproduced Ehle’s nonfiction book —The Free Men ($19.95) — on the process of change in civil rights era Chapel Hill. It’s as detailed an account of how a movement operates as any we’ve read and great “in the moment” reporting on the times. In November of 2014, The Land Breakers ($17.95) was picked up by New York Review Books publishing house, and we all have Press 53 to thank for Ehle’s revival. Press 53 primarily publishes short fiction and poetry, but it’s difficult to imagine Hedy Habra’s new book, Under Brush Strokes (2015, $14.95), as merely a collection of poetry. Habra, with the eye of a painter as well as a poet, writes pieces that strive for something greater than typical ekphrasis. Her poems, in both prose and verse, are something of a tapestry; she weaves together a November 2015

O.Henry 27


Marco Figueroa. He’s

Greensboro Soccer and art drew Marco, a senior art major, to Greensboro College. Attending a liberal-arts college with small classes and diverse opportunities for students allowed him to embrace his two loves -perfecting his craft on the field and behind the lens. In his sophomore year, he took a photography class and fell in love with digital photography. “Art is one of my passions,” he says, “and I know technology in the future will make a difference. That is why I started experimenting with photography.” Marco’s photography is already making an impression. His work was part of a reflection event at GC’s Cullis Gallery, and his photos were included in several exhibits in Downtown Greensboro. And Greensboro College opened another type of classroom for Marco: He spent his summer on a study abroad trip to Germany. “It was a great opportunity to learn from European and worldwide photographers,” he says. “And, of course, there are some great places for photo shooting.” Marco plans to attend graduate school. He wants to live in New York City, and make his living as a photographer. Unless coaching soccer comes first. Marco Figueroa. Uniquely Prepared for wherever life takes him.


Uniquely Located, Uniquely Greensboro, Uniquely You!

Bookshelf variety of voices, each of which in the end becomes distinctly her own. Bonnie ZoBell’s What Happened Here (2015, $17.95 ) is a collection of interconnected stories set in the North Park neighborhood of San Diego, the location twenty-five years earlier of the deadliest airline disaster in U.S. history. Almost no one who lives there now was there that day, but they’ve all heard the stories, seen the newspaper articles. They all feel, in one way or another, that they live with the ghosts. ZoBell introduces us to a varied group of characters, from twentysomethings to couples with children approaching middle age, each with a past that haunts them in the same way the accident, so long ago, haunts their landscape. Stefanie Freele knows how to take an idea and run with it, and the stories in Surrounded by Water (2012, $17.95) are full of ideas carried to tragicomic extremes. From the mother who just wants to sleep instead of being taunted by her husband spouting sports slogans and ‘Don’t be a Quitter!’ motivational claptrap to the wife who imagines luring the migraine from her partner, pinning it to the floor, beating it, then driving it to another town, our inner lives are always intruding in ridiculous yet very physical ways. It’s a skewed universe portrayed in these stories, something as off-kilter as the best dreams can be and just as unexpected. The color blue pops up often in James Claffey’s Blood a Cold Blue (2013, $14.95). It runs like a ribbon through the eighty-three flash fiction pieces contained in the book; so much blue that even if it doesn’t make an appearance in a story, you can feel it hovering at the edge. It’s the blue of dusky cold, the flashing blue of an eye, often it’s the blue-white of death or the promise of death. These are stories built around images so brittle, sharp and beautiful that we began to feel they were the singular, separate memories of a fading life. These images unfold with a million bright details that always hint at stories we only see an instant of. Liz Prato’s Baby’s on Fire (2015, $14.95) is a collection populated by characters just trying to move from one moment to the next without causing too much damage and finding it more difficult than they thought. Her gently propulsive writing seamlessly lays it out for us: the confusion of a past, the groping toward a future. These are funny, relaxed stories about messy lives and the way people keen and spark together, sometimes dim and slow, sometimes bright and quick, but always unpredictably and, in these stories, with a certain clueless tenderness. OH This month’s Scuppernong Bookshelf was written by Brian Lampkin, Brian Etling and Steve Mitchell. The Art & Soul of Greensboro

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O.Henry 29


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30 O.Henry

November 2015

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The Art & Soul of Greensboro

celebrating 5o years

Duly Noted

The Pleasures of Life Dept.

The art of the written note endures, thank you very much

By Nancy Oakley

“Heres A Little Note For You .

. .” it reads in pencil printed at the top of an 8 1/2- x 11inch piece of white paper, covered with stickers of stars, clown faces, leaves, musical notes, handprints, fruits and a VW Beetle. It is stapled in three places down the left-hand margin to another piece of paper containing sloping lines, also printed in pencil:

I really just want to thank you for giving me the sparkaly neacklas that you gave me and I really like the computer game you gave me I play with it all the time senc I got it, Your Neas Elizabeth

I don’t recall how old my niece (or “neas”) was when she wrote the note — likely 6 or 7 — and I don’t recall giving her either a necklace or a computer game or why. But I can say, with absolute certainty, she wouldn’t have taken such pains as stationer or scribe had my elder sister, Margaret, not stood watch over her at the kitchen table until the note was finished . . . just as our mother saw to it that we and our eldest sister, Katherine, pen thank-you notes after every Christmas and birthday, or any occasion in which gifts were exchanged or invitations accepted. “Did you remember to say ‘thank-you’?” she’d cross-examine us after birthday parties or sleepovers. “Umm. I don’t remember. I think so. Maybe?” “Goodness gracious, [insert first and middle name of offending child], I sure hope you did. I don’t want all the other mothers in the neighborhood going around saying ‘Those Oakley girls don’t have any manners.’” Poor Mom, she comes by conscientiousness genetically, as do most Southerners. But over time, her message began to sink in, and my sisters and I got the hang of making every gift ever received sound like the Star of India — even the unwanted ones, such as books we had already read or clothes that didn’t fit, or the hideous, roadrunner-themed costume jewelry that a cousin who lived in the Southwest gave us every Christmas . . . perhaps because we penned notes that were a little too effusive that often went something like this: The splendid silver roadrunner pin [in actuality, painted plastic] will go perfectly with my entire wardrobe [Not really.] It fairly shimmers in the light, [where the paint hasn’t chipped off] which gives its brilliant turquoise eye [a plastic bead] a mischievious glint. [It’s creepy!] Is it a Hopi design? [I’m politely ignoring the ‘Made in Hong Kong’ stamp imprinted on the back of it.] The Hopi believed roadrunners protected them from evil spirits, so I will cherish this talisman and wear it proudly [It’s still sitting in the box it came in]. OK. So we were less than honest with Cousin Betty and yes, as kids so often do, we looked our gift horse in the mouth. But Mom explained (and explained and explained), that the point of a thank-you note has less to do with the gift or the occasion — and everything to do with the giver. “If Betty took the time to think of you and buy a present, you can take the time to The Art & Soul of Greensboro

thank Betty,” she’d say. “And besides, it’ll hurt her feelings if you don’t.” Did I mention my mother’s genetic propensity for guilt trips, also common among Southerners? Which brings me to my teenage nephew, Jack, sometimes prone to lapses of memory when it comes to expressing his gratitude in writing. Admittedly, his occasional sin of omission stings a little. But when he does remember to write, he exhibits a remarkable and touching attention to detail, as exhibited during his rock hound phase at around age 10 or 11: I LOVE the agates! I think the blue one looks like a water drop. I also think the tannish one looks kind of like a pear. Maybe for some, thank-you notes are about the stuff. One of my brothers-inlaw, an avid sailor, once thanked me for a jokey present — a toy sailboat. What a great idea! I’ve been boatless for too long. It’s assumed a position on the mantle and will no doubt be cruising in the bathtub the next time I’ve overindulged. For others, thank-you notes are about the notepaper. A college friend recently thanked me for “the lovely Christmas presents,” adding, “I thought of you immediately when I saw this.” She was referring to the illustration on the card: an old-fashioned ladies’ tea party with the caption, “I take my tea in a wine glass filled with wine.” Guilty, as charged. Another friend prefers monogrammed paper, even using it to thank her handyman for a repair job. My sister Katherine has a penchant for artistic cards, often from museum shops, and fills them with newsy bits about the weather, her golf game and any recent travels, before her scholarly tendencies come to the fore, such as the time she thanked me for a DVD I’d given her: I’m thrilled to have the Zefirelli Romeo and Juliet. It’s a longtime favorite — so beautiful — even if he does play a little fast and loose with the text! My sister Margaret, the mom and schoolteacher in the family, shows a more pragmatic side: If you knew how ratty my kitchen towels were (thanks to the dogs playing tug-o- war with them), you’d know how welcome the new one is! Perhaps we’re anachronisms, in this day and age of mass-mailings from politicians and charities looking for a handout (“Thank you for your continued support”); the push toward quick, easy electronic communication (“Tx 4 my b’day gift!” a friend once texted); or ridicule of the hipper-than-thou who deem heartfelt thanks so uncool (see: Jimmy Fallon). But there’s something about writing out the words, “thank you” that gives the reader affirmation. He or she has done the right thing, whether giving a gift, or doing a good deed. The social contract has come full circle. So, when a friend’s daughter recently completed a summer internship, the first words out of my mouth were, “Did she write her boss a thank-you note?” “I’m going to stay on her, and make sure she does,” my friend replied (Did I mention she is a Southerner?). And then we looked at one another and burst into giggles, hearing our mothers’ voices resounding in our own. OH Nancy Oakley thanks her lucky stars that she’s O.Henry’s senior editor. November 2015

O.Henry 31

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32 O.Henry

November 2015


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The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Thanksgiving With Foodies

Vine Wisdom

A grateful celebration of good friends, great cooking and the perfect wines for your table

By Robyn James

It goes without saying,

this country is obsessed with food. Seeking food, preparing food, consuming food. There are shows, competitions and social media postings of exotic dishes on an hourly basis.

I wondered what it would be like to have Thanksgiving dinner with a true dyed-in-the-wool foodie. Only one way to find out. I called on my friends Willie and Kate Hendricks, two peas in a pod, who found each other with a shared obsession for not only finding and preparing different dishes, but more importantly, matching those foods with a diverse selection of wines. Don’t even suggest going to a restaurant with this couple. The expression on their faces says that you just rained on their parade; they want to do it themselves. They firmly believe Thanksgiving is the most important food day of the year that has ever existed. “We have incredible food and spices that have not been available throughout history,” Willie says. “We share it with family and friends. Therefore, to us it is also the most special wine day. We usually have fifteen to twenty friends over and we serve five to seven different varieties of wine, always a mix of both red and white.” Since Willie is the Meatmaster, I questioned the selections for turkey and whether the cooking method altered their wine choices. His response: “I know of three main ways people in the South serve turkey: roasted (various flavors), smoked and deep fried. For any style of cooking I would The Art & Soul of Greensboro

recommend these white wines: Nice German riesling that is not too sweet, such as Dr. Loosen L Riesling. Also, a spicy French white from the Alsace region such as Maison Cattin gewürztraminer or a fresh and fruity pinot blanc. For bold people, a high-quality Greek wine such as Boutari Moschofilero with citrus and melon flavors.” Based on the traditional side dishes such as sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce and gravy, the Hendricks believe that more fruit-forward reds are appropriate. “We have tasted and tried several red wines with roasted turkey and think they are good unless the seasoning is a little different, like Cajun sauces, Indian style, etc.,” Willie explains. “An Oregon pinot noir such as Roco is a great match, and this also goes well with honey-baked ham that some folks like to serve. A fruity Australian shiraz such as Jim Barry Lodge Hill from Clare Valley matches well.” Great fans of the smoked or grilled turkey, Kate and Willie lean toward reds on the peppery side such as Moillard Les Violettes Côtes Du Rhône from France, Honora Vera Garnacha and Juan Gill Mourvèdre, both earthy selections from Spain. Deep frying your Thanksgiving turkey is seriously in vogue these days, and although the Hendricks have never tried this method, there are some wine pairings that come to mind. They recommend a chardonnay with a hint of oak — Sanford will work — or a Tempranillo, such as Hecula, or an authentic German beer. At the close of dinner, Kate, in charge of the traditional pumpkin pie, believes that a sweet German riesling such as Klosterdoktor Auslese is the perfect complement. If possible, latch onto your local foodie for Thanksgiving; it should be an awesome experience! OH Robyn James is proprietor of The Wine Cellar and Tasting Room in Southern Pines, North Carolina. November 2015

O.Henry 33

Evolving Species

Stew U

Evolving Species

Without a cast-iron pot to cook it in, Brunswick stew is simply b.s.

Story & Illustrations by Harry Blair

“Brunswick stew,”

says humorist Roy Blount Jr., “happens when small mammals carrying ears of corn fall into barbecue pits.” Whether it occurs accidentally or on purpose, it’s a big part of fall in Greensboro and most of North Carolina.

Twenty-five years ago, I got my recipe for Brunswick stew from a dear friend, Fran Walters, who got it from an older lady, who got it from another older lady, and so on. It’s pretty old. And it’s basically an Eastern North Carolina style that has been perfected over generations here in the Piedmont. There are as many variations on Brunswick stew as there are Brunswick stew cooks. Both Stamey’s and Country Barbecue put peas in theirs. Go figure. You can’t fake genuine Brunswick stew. You can’t make it in a crockpot. You can’t make it in a couple of hours on the stove. It has to cook all day — outdoors — over a hardwood fire. It has to be stirred constantly and the fire has to be kept hot. Like I said, all day. This recipe cooks for ten hours. It’s hard work, but the result is Lord-have-mercy worth it. This year, my grandson Hudson will start to take it over. He’ll be involved in the whole process, from shopping for ingredients to serving. I wrote this up to serve as his instructions — or yours, if you want to start a new tradition at your house, church or fire station. So let’s get on with it. As my friend Bob Garner would say, “Mmm-mmm!”

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Equipment First thing: Treasure the pot. I found mine in a dark corner of an antique store outside Stuart, Virginia. It’s the perfect size, 15-gallon. It just fits in one open end of a 55-gallon drum, which becomes the stove. It will make enough stew for fifty or sixty people. The stove will eventually rust and fall apart every few years. D.H. Griffin will sell you a new drum and cut out the holes on the top and side of it for you. Then, you need to find yourself a paddle-like stirrer with a rounded end. November 2015

O.Henry 35

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The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Evolving Species You will also need two 1/2-inch-thick pieces of rebar cut to 4 feet, which you will use to carry the pot and hang utensils on. You’re going to also need two or three large stockpots in which to boil the meat. That should do it as far as equipment goes. Go ahead and put the pot in the open end of the unlit stove. The stove should be sitting on a bed of gravel far away from dry leaves or anything flammable. And keep a fire extinguisher nearby. OK. Let’s get on with it!

The Recipe Harry Blair’s No-Longer-Secret, Smack Yo’ Granny Brunswick Stew Serves 60 Ingredients: 10 pounds deboned and skinned chicken breasts (remove fat) 5 pounds deboned and skinned chicken thighs (remove fat) 4 pounds lean pork (Boston butt or a fresh picnic ham will work if you cut off the fat. Or get your butcher to trim and cut the meat for you.) 4 pounds lean beef (Use stew beef or get chuck roast or round, but remove the fat. Venison, rabbit, squirrel, possum, snake or bear gives the stew a good backstory. Heck, I even added reindeer one year.) 1/2 pound country ham (chopped) 8 pounds peeled Yukon Gold potatoes, cut into quarters 2 extra large yellow onions, chopped 1 bunch celery, chopped 6 garlic cloves, finely chopped 5 28-ounce cans of crushed tomato 2 29-ounce cans of tomato sauce 4 15-ounce cans of chicken broth 1/3 box Bell’s Seasoning Dash crushed red pepper 1 tablespoon ground black pepper 1/4 cup salt Six hours into cooking, add: 5 15-ounce cans of whole kernel corn (and liquid) 5 15-ounce cans of Lima beans (and liquid) 1 stick salted butter

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

November 2015

O.Henry 37


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November 2015

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Evolving Species

Preparation: Cut the meat into 2-inch or so chunks. Fill the stockpots 2/3 full of water. (I use two, one 12-quart and one 18-quart.) Add meat and boil for 15 minutes on your kitchen stove. Skim off the foam that comes to the top and discard. Put the meat into a large bowl. Carry the remaining stock outside and pour it into the pot. Build the fire by putting five or six bricks into the bottom of the stove. Place a small bag of Kingsford Match Light charcoal on the bricks. Make a teepee of wood sticks around the bag. Light the bag. To keep a good, hot fire going all day, you’ll need a fair amount of nicely split oak, hickory or other firewood (no pine). I get mine from Harris Teeter. Go back inside to the meat. Shred the meat in a food processor or cut it up by hand, but not too fine. Dump it into the pot outside, making sure your fire is good and hot. Stir. Add everything else EXCEPT corn, beans and butter. The mixture should come to within 2 inches of the top of the pot. If it doesn’t, add some water. Throughout the cooking process, you’ll see it come to a boil. That’s good, just keep stirring. Cook seven hours over a very hot fire, stirring every 10 minutes so it doesn’t scorch on the bottom. Add the corn lima beans, butter and juice. If the stew needs more liquid, now’s the time to add chicken broth to help fill the pot.


Styrofoam bowls melt. Buy small bowls. Put some Texas Pete and Tabasco out on a table. Make sure the ladle is hanging on one of the rebar rods, not in the pot. Most people will stand around the stove, but have a few places to sit. Don’t let kids near the stove. Christmas lights and Tiki torches add a festive touch and keep people from tripping in dark areas. Background music adds to the fun. Your wife will probably want to make things look pretty. Let her go ahead and do it. Hudson, it’s my hope that when the time is right, you’ll pass this recipe on to your sweet grandkids, as well. Tell ’em I love ’em. OH Harry Blair is a contributing editor to O.Henry.

Cook and stir over a very hot fire another two hours. If you started at 7 a.m., it’s now 4 p.m. and you can start serving. But if you can wait until around 5 or 5:30 p.m. the stew should be really good — and thick The Art & Soul of Greensboro

November 2015

O.Henry 39



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The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Night Ride

Gate City Journal

Our favorite literary sleuth on why she loves to ride with the Greensboro Police

By Nancy Bartholomew

One of the great things about being

a mystery writer is you can call up the police and tell them you’re writing a book and need information. If you live in a fairly small town, they’ll say something like, “Well, come on down, little lady! Wanna go on a stakeout?”

No joke. This happened. But that’s another story. One of the great things about being a therapist and a writer is that once you’re friends with the police, they’ll call you to go ride with one of their squad who’s having “a few problems.” The idea is that while riding, you can chat informally about whatever’s on the officer’s mind. I always try to ride on third shift, preferably in the worst area. When you’re lucky enough not to live in one of the world’s crime capitals, you’ve got to do what you can to see action. Even then you can spend an entire night riding along listening to someone’s life story and never even stop a speeder. But not this night. I remember first that it was raining. Big drops rolled down the side windows as I stared through them into the fractured light of the passing signs and cars. The patrol car was warm and smelled of old vinyl and stale coffee. The radio chattered in the background, and I waited for the driver to say something beyond our basic introduction. Usually I ask the officer who’s setting me up with his troubled buddy to explain that I’m a writer and not say I’m also a psychotherapist. If the situation warrants, I’d prefer to be the one who reveals what my other job is. But cops never follow instructions. I no sooner climb into the passenger seat for my night’s ride when my new acquaintance says, “Sammy tells me you’re a shrink.” I cringe and stare through the windshield, trying to make myself smaller and less like this cop’s notion of a shrink. “Something like that,” I say. I hardly have the words out when he says, “Just tell me one damned thing. It’s The Art & Soul of Greensboro

been seven years since I got divorced and I still have feelings for her. Now why the hell is that?” I look over at him. He’s a skinny beanpole of a man with a bald eraser head, fringed in short, black stubble — sort of like a pencil with a dirty eraser, but when he turns and catches me staring, his eyes are dark pools of hurt and, well, I’m a sucker for big, dark eyes. I can’t stand to know someone’s hurting when maybe I could help. So, we drive around and around while he tells me all about it and I listen. See, basically people know what they think, how they feel and what they want to do about a situation. They just want someone else to really listen, to be a witness to what they’re experiencing. If they really wanted advice, they’d ask Dear Abby. I’m glad he’s not totally depressed because when the call comes in to respond to a break-in and domestic dispute, I feel better knowing I’m traveling with someone capable of taking care of the situation without help from an out-ofshape, clogging soccer mom. This is not my first ride along. I know the drill. You stay in the car. They respond. You watch from a safe and boring distance. We round the corner onto a darkened, tree-lined street and Sam cuts his headlights and eases up to the curb in front of the house. At the same time another patrol car, coming from the opposite direction, pulls up to the curb in front of us, its lights out. A small, red-headed, Opie Taylor look-alike emerges from this car and stands waiting for Sam. Sam turns to me, hands me a Maglite. “Don’t turn this on no matter what,” he says. “Then what’s it for?” Sam gives me a pitying look. “In case you need it.” Took me five whole minutes to figure out a heavy metal flashlight is an excellent defense weapon. Then Sam’s opening his door, clambering out of the car and turning to poke his head back in and look at me. “Well?” he says. “Are you coming or not?” I’m tempted to look behind me for the other person in the car, the one who is an in-shape police officer and not me. But there’s no one else. November 2015

O.Henry 41

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November 2015

“Sure,” I say. I try to toss it off like, “Sure, I’d love to pet your alligator,” but Sam’s already disappearing into the darkness in front of the cars with Opie by his side. I haul ass after them and almost fall over the split-rail fence they have easily vaulted while I struggle to hold my Maglite, not rip my dress pants and climb over the fence. It is dark in this middle of nowhere, low-rent district but I do not turn on my light. Besides, I can see now. As I approach the house, the front door flies open and light spills out into the yard as one very large, very agitated woman fills the doorway. “Oh, dear Lord Jesus, help me! He’s gonna kill ’im! He’s gonna kill ’im!” It never occurs to me to go back to the car and press the little red button Sam instructed me to push “if I’m ever in trouble.” No. I am somebody’s mother. It never enters my mind not to barge right on in past the lady, with flashlight in hand, ready to do business. I cross the threshold and hear a voice bellow the same words I use every day, in the exact same tone, to my two young sons. “Get off of him! Get off of him right now!” The woman behind me shrieks as bodies crash into the tiny home’s single hallway. A gigantic, near-naked man appears to be walking with Sam attached to him. I jump into the kitchen-dining alcove, gripping my Maglite, ready to strike as soon as I can get a good shot. Fortunately, Sam has complete control of the situation. I don’t know where Opie is, but Sam has this behemoth pinned against the living room wall and is cuffing him. Both men are streaked with blood and I can’t tell whose blood it is. “Ma’am,” Sam says, looking straight at me. “Would you mind helping me with something?” Finally, my turn! “Sure.” Sam nods toward the kitchen. “There’s a bottle of Tilex next to the sink. Would you mind spraying me down with it?” OK. Sam is wearing a black uniform and, I might add, it looks damned good on him. That is why he needs me to say, “Sam, you can’t use bleach on black polyester.” “Yes, ma’am,” Sam says patiently. “But I’m cut and I don’t have a first-aid kit right here with me. I need to disinfect the wound.” “Well, it’s going to really sting,” I caution, but something in the way Sam looks at me makes me go ahead and pick up the bottle. I spray him and he actually thanks me. When we pull into the underground garage leading to the jail, Sam pulls his suspect out of the back seat and says to me, “Excuse me, ma’am. I’m going to take him into the bathroom over there and clean these cuts off with a little antiseptic before we go in.” The Art & Soul of Greensboro

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Gate City Journal “Now, Sam,” I say, attempting to take the firstaid kit from his hands. “There is nothing here I haven’t seen before and I do know how to clean a cut. I’ll do it.” The two men stare at me like I’ve lost my mind until finally the big man says, “I don’t want no damned shit on my cut!” I shake my head, tsk-tsk him like he’s a big baby and then do it anyway. Sam makes me wear latex gloves. When we go inside, Sam takes the guy in to see the magistrates. They look like the Pointer Sisters, only they’re having way more fun. One flirts with Sam. One offers Sam some of the goodies on a side table because it’s someone’s birthday. And the third one types up the complaint or whatever it is called when an estranged, crack-head husband breaks into your house, violating his restraining order, and commences to beat the hell out of you. Sam has me sit just outside the small office on a long wooden bench that has a ballet barre attached about two feet above it. He handcuffs his quarry to the ballet barre. While we wait, another cop brings in two transvestites, Asian waiters, who promptly begin telling me all about how they are not guilty. I have no idea what they are not guilty of, but I do know they are committing fashion faux pas all over the place and should be issued a citation for failure to yield the right of way to pancake foundation and too much rouge. Finally Sam comes out of the magistrate’s office and begins filling out paperwork at a stand across the room from his arrestee. He motions me over and explains the paperwork to me. He is in the middle of this when he apparently hears something that garners his attention. Spinning around, Sam crosses the room to the spot where his guy is sitting. The man has his shoe off and is shaking it. Sam calls me over. He stoops down and picks something up, then turns back to the man sitting with his shoe in his hand. “Would this be a piece of glass from the window of the glass door you did not crash through when you did not break into your ex-wife’s house?” he asks. Sam doesn’t wait for the man to answer him, just turns to me and says, “See this?” I nod. “Ma’am,” Sam says solemnly, “this here would be a clue.” I have never turned down an opportunity to ride with the police. Where else could I receive such a rich education? OH Nancy Bartholomew is the author of eleven amateur sleuth mystery novels. A psychotherapist in private practice, she lives in Greensboro with her two dogs, Mighty Mouse and Wendell the Wonder Dog.

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46 O.Henry

November 2015


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Pappadaddy’s Mindfield

Technical Complications In the fast-breaking info world, I’m a little lost in space

By Clyde Edgerton

Tech Day One:

For the first time I am talking an essay into a cellphone, and it is writing down the essay on the screen as I speak.

Illustration by harry Blair

Do dictation apps, chips in our heads, invisible microphones, podcasts, etc., mean writing and reading are on the way out? You say, “We’ll still need to read the word ‘Stop’ on a stop sign.” A car can be programmed to stop at all the right places. “What about exit signs in crowded theaters — in case of fire?” A round green light could replace exit signs. Like at a stop light. Go — green. Stop — red. Tech Day Two: This morning I find that I can’t open my car door with the unlock button (indicated by symbol, not word) on the key fob. My battery is dead. I try to remember which interior lights I might have left on. With the doors locked and no battery power, I wonder how I am going to open the truck door to release the hood latch so that I can recharge the battery. Hummm. I call my buddies at Advanced Auto. “Hello,” someone says. “Is this Mike?” “This is Wes.” “Wes, I got a little problem. My car’s locked and the battery’s dead so the fob won’t open a door. Is there some kind of secret way to get the hood open to recharge the battery?” “Do you have the, ah, car key?” “The car key? Oh . . . Yes . . . Yes, I do. Thanks, Wes. And would you please not tell any of the boys about this phone call?” Tech Day Three: Today, at an estate sale, my 10-year-old son buys a 1980s solar-run calculator. He delights in this simple tool (no recharging needed). It occurs to me that if we circle back and go no further than the tech advances

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

of the 80s, we’ll be reading paper and cloth books, sitting outside, talking to each other, looking at each other, and we’ll also have time to sit in a chair in the yard and lean back and look into the sky and talk about what we see way up there — day or night. Flashback: Recently, a friend of mine sat with me and friend No. 2 on the deck of No. 2’s mountain cabin. On occasional nights, Friend No. 1 names constellations, spouts Greek mythology and recalls star names while pointing into the sky. He repels technology like a magnet turned backward. He had found me the day before with a topographic map and a compass. He shuns GPS and cellphone. There on the deck, friend No. 2 pointed his iPhone toward the sky, demonstrating how a new app enabled his phone to show and name constellations. I feared I was witnessing the prelude to a homicide. Non-tech Day One: Cause for pause: Without written fiction, poetry and nonfiction, we’d have to hear someone’s idea of speaking voices — tone, accent, emphasis. Our imaginations would have their legs cut from beneath them. Tech Bedtime: I find and read my 12-year-old son a short paper letter I’d handwritten to him when he was 2 months old (2003). When I finish, he says, “That was before touch screen.” “Right,” I say. “When I’m real old,” he says, “I can say [he uses his old person voice], ‘I was a kid back before touch screen, when you had to punch a bunch of buttons to do anything.’ And they’ll say, ‘Oh, your fingers must have gotten tired,’ and I’ll say, ‘They certainly did.’” I say, “We need to scan and save those old letters I wrote to you, so they will last forever.” OH Clyde Edgerton is the author of ten novels, a memoir and a new work, Papadaddy’s Book for New Fathers. He is the Thomas S. Kenan III Distinguished Professor of Creative Writing at UNCW. November 2015

O.Henry 47

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A Novel Year

Mountains to the Sea And back again

By Wiley Cash

In the summer of

2013, my wife and I decided it was time to leave West Virginia and return home to North Carolina. The only problem was deciding where to live. We spent hours listing the pros and cons of two cities we both know and love: Asheville and Wilmington.

Asheville: My first introduction to the city came in 1993, when my older sister took a job as a nurse at one of the big hospitals in town. She lived in a century-old inn. It was elegant and haunting, and so many of my feelings about Asheville are still tied to my first impressions of her apartment. I was in tenth grade, doing what I thought all young poets did: smoking cigarettes, listening to The Doors, and taking myself way too seriously. At the time, there was a dive bar on Lexington Avenue in downtown Asheville called Vincent’s Ear, and if you were 16, smoking cigarettes, listening to The Doors, and taking yourself way too seriously, it was exactly where you wanted to be. It was there that I learned that UNC Asheville had a degree in creative writing. By the time my freshman year rolled around in 1996, I’d cut my hair and given up both cigarettes and Jim Morrison. I’d also realized that I was a terrible poet but a not-too-terrible fiction writer. Over the next four years at UNC Asheville I threw myself into learning how to be a reader first and a writer second. I also learned how to be a citizen who was active both on campus and in the community, and I spent valuable time with a sister who was eight years older than me but finally beginning to feel like a peer. My senior year, my younger brother was in the freshman class, and it was a thrill for all of us to be in the same city for the first time in many years. I graduated in 2000, received a master’s degree in English at another university, and in 2002 I returned to join the small adjunct faculty at my alma mater. From the time I moved to Asheville in 1996 until I left for good to attend graduate school in Louisiana in 2003, the city had experienced incredible growth and change. A downtown that had been largely vacant was now as much a tourist attraction as the Biltmore House. The craft beer movement had just begun, and people from around the world were beginning to know Asheville as “The Paris of the South.” I wasn’t in Louisiana for a full day before I felt the inexplicable pull of the mountains. Wilmington: My first introduction to the city came in 1997, when my younger brother and I joined my parents for a weekend in Southport. My mom and dad were considering a move to the coast after spending nearly three decades in Gastonia. On a Saturday morning while my parents house-hunted, my brother and I followed Highway 133 North, stopping to snoop around Orton Plantation and later pulling off the road and walking into the pine woods, where we stumbled upon a centuries-old graveyard that I’ve never again been able to The Art & Soul of Greensboro

locate. We arrived in Wilmington and found a charming downtown complete with cobblestone streets and a used bookstore where I purchased my first copy of Thomas Wolfe’s Look Homeward, Angel (a novel written about Asheville). My parents relocated to Oak Island in 1998, and in the spring of 2005 my brother left the mountains and moved to Wilmington. I came “home” to the coast that summer and helped my brother renovate a house near Figure Eight. One night, he and I went downtown seven years after we visited it for the first time. That night I met the woman who would become my wife. We were married in Wilmington over a snowy weekend in February 2010. This was the woman with whom I was making the pro and con list, Asheville on one side and Wilmington on the other. We settled on Wilmington. We love the city; we always have. It didn’t hurt that the majority of our family lives within a forty-five minute drive. In the past two years we’ve made a home here, and we started a family. Our daughter was born in Wilmington a year after we returned to North Carolina. But, to quote Thomas Wolfe, “Something has spoken to me in the night,” and that something is the mountains of North Carolina. That’s where I found myself this past May when I was invited to give the commencement address at UNC Asheville. At one point over the weekend, the university’s provost and I were talking, and he asked if I’d ever consider a position as writer-in-residence at UNC Asheville. I told him that two years ago that would’ve been an incredibly exciting opportunity, but we live in Wilmington. We have a life in Wilmington. He said, “The thing about being writer-in-residence is that you wouldn’t have to be in residence all the time.” A formal offer came a few weeks later. We’d live in Asheville in the fall and I’d teach two courses at the university while curating a reading series of visiting writers. We’d come home to Wilmington in December, and I’d correspond with writing students from my desk in the Port City. Once again, my wife and I spent weeks going over the pros and cons, and finally we decided that it was an opportunity that we couldn’t pass up, but that didn’t keep us from being incredibly nervous about such a huge transition. A few weeks ago, we traveled to a literary festival in the mountains outside Asheville. We rented a little cabin on the South Toe River. After arriving, we unloaded the car and took our daughter down to the river just as the sun was setting. She stared at the slow-moving water without blinking, her mouth moving in a near-silent babble that resembled the quiet sound of the water rolling over the rocks. My wife and I witnessed the wide-eyed wonder that only the very young can express, the same wonder with which she approached the ocean the first time she saw it just minutes from our home in Wilmington. We could do this. We could have a life in two places. A foot in the mountain stream. A foot in the Atlantic surf. Pieces of our heart in both. OH Wiley Cash is a New York Times best-selling author whose second novel, This Dark Road to Mercy, was released last year. He lives in Wilmington. November 2015

O.Henry 49

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To advertise on this page call 336-707-6893 The Art & Soul of Greensboro


Rubycrowned Kinglet

It takes a dedicated bird-watcher to spot this small but brilliant songbird By Susan Campbell

It is that time of year: The

mercury has begun to drop and one cannot help but notice our finest feathered friends are coming back to spend the winter with us. Birds of many shapes, colors and sizes will spend the next several months here in the Piedmont, making the most of what our ponds, streams, fields and forests have to offer. One of the smallest, second only to the occasional wintering hummingbird, is the ruby-crowned kinglet.

Although they are by no means scarce, it takes a dedicated bird-watcher to spot this diminutive and elusive songbird. Their distinctive behavior — almost constantly flitting from branch to branch, making nervous wing flicks every couple of seconds — signals their presence. If one will stay still long enough so you can get a good look, the ruby-crowned kinglet is distinguished by an olive-brown hue over most of its body, accented with white wing bars and a pale eye ring. Despite its colorful name, only males sport the ruby crown. And don’t blink, because the crown consists of just a couple of small feathers. The red is apparent only when the bird is especially agitated. However, if you know what to listen for, you’ll discover that these little birds are all over the place during a good part of the year. The two-part harmony of their scolding call provides a soundtrack in thick evergreen vegetation in a variety of habitats: from the tall pines to brushy tangles at

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

the water’s edge. Ruby-crowneds are masters at bug-hunting, not only able to grab small insects from thin air but also good at plucking them from the undersides of leaves or excavating for them in the nooks and crannies of tree bark. They are not afraid to take advantage of morsels hanging in spider webs, and they will even forage at ground level when they spot the right sized meal. Although they’re shy birds, you can encourage ruby-crowned kinglets to become regulars at your feeders and birdbaths by making sure there’s some cover nearby. Given their size, these nervous little birds need good protection from rain and wind as well as predators. But they do like suet. And they will also drink sugar water from oriole feeders equipped with smaller openings to accommodate their small, short bills. You may also see kinglets feeding on dogwood or other berries that have been opened by larger birds or squirrels. It is amazing that this tiny species not only survives our winters but breeds across the boreal forests way up north where summer temperatures tend not to be all that warm. And counterintuitively, their nest sites tend to be high up in the tallest of the mature trees. Apparently ruby-crowneds’ bodies are very energy-efficient. Studies of their metabolism have found that regardless of the season, they use only about ten calories per day. So it’s not surprising that male birds sometimes use song exclusively to advertise their breeding territory instead of fighting, which is dangerous and wastes energy. The ruby-crowned has a close cousin that is also here with us in winter: the golden-crowned kinglet. This bird is a bit larger but even more likely to be overlooked. I think we will save that bird for discussion next month. OH Susan would love to receive your wildlife sightings and photos. She can be contacted by email at susan@ncaves.com, or by calling (910) 585-0574. November 2015

O.Henry 51

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The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Life of Jane

Good Job, Hon Naked and unafraid (sort of) in L.A.

By Jane Borden

Some time ago,

Illustration by Meridith Martens

my husband and I adopted a practice of applauding our mishaps. Basically, one of us will cheerily exclaim, “Good job, Honey,” whenever the other does something that is, in fact, a bad job. For example, if one spills food, shatters a glass, or, heaven forbid, breaks wind on the other side of the apartment, a rousing “Good job, Hon!” will be shouted by the nonoffending party.

It originated as a form of gentle mockery. But its effect grew into something different. The “good job” assessment is delivered with such positivity that, even though the receiver is aware of its irony, he or she still feels supported. A “good job, Hon” tells you not to be embarrassed, angry or frustrated over insignificant failures, but to throw up your hands at the inevitability of life’s kerfuffles. Crucially, it also reminds the exclaimer that he or she is never the only Hon doing “good jobs.” Over the years, Nathan and I have provided one another with ample opportunity to assert our mantra. And we’d never met a mishap for which it didn’t apply, for which the receiver didn’t feel a sense of relief and support. That is, until the great House Key Hunt of 2015. Sometimes you should keep your handsome mouth shut. Moments after I dropped Nathan at our neighborhood Metro train stop, I realized I’d left our apartment without a key. I immediately u-turned, but then sat at a stoplight, helpless — because neither did I have my phone — while his train arrived and departed with him on it. Nathan was meeting friends for beers at the Angel City Brewery and The Art & Soul of Greensboro

would be gone for hours. This was the perfect opportunity to indulge myself in a fancy dinner, a movie, or any of the luxuries for which I rarely have time, but now had an excuse. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my wallet. Still, I could have taken a long walk or sat in a park, unplugged and engaged my senses without distractions. Unfortunately, I was wearing only a bathrobe and flip-flops. Still, I could have broken into the apartment. I could have climbed over the carport and onto the terrace to retrieve a wrought-iron chair, carried it to the back of the building and stood on it to pry open the one loose window, leaped into said window on my belly, and landed on my hands inside our bedroom. I knew I could, because I had done it before, but I could not do it that afternoon, because I was eight-months pregnant. An inventory of what I did have: a car, a bathrobe and flip-flops. An inventory of my options: sleep in the back seat of the car with the robe as a pillow and the flip-flops covering my lady bits. My gut told me instead to drown slowly in a puddle of tears until someone found me and delivered cake. Because that is what the guts of all eightmonths pregnant women tell them all the time. The coffee shop is out of croissants? You should cry. Can’t get the cap off the toothpaste? Have a sob. It’s as if you’re carrying not only a baby but also a bully who never sleeps. Further, there is no spectrum of crying when one is eight-months pregnant. There is only a puddle. A woman that pregnant does not discreetly wipe her eyes as tears run down. She wails, gasps for air as emotion exits in prodigious liquids. Her eyes pour, nose leaks, and mouth spews spittle and drool. If she cries hard enough, she may even accidentally tee-tee a bit in her underpants, which was a serious danger for someone not wearing any. These fits of emotion had been afflicting me once or twice a week. They came on with force and inevitability, like a werewolf changing, and they left me exhausted with a raging headache, presumably from the hours spent howling at the moon and rampaging villagers. I couldn’t face that headache. I had to keep it together at all costs. I could handle this, I told myself. I had a car! And a car key. I had a full tank of gas. I could drive to the bar and find Nathan. I was not afraid to walk into a bar in nothing but a robe. That fear is the luxury of those in possession of house keys. But, unfortunately, I didn’t KNOW how to get there — in spite of having been several times before. I have no sense of direction. I get turned around climbing stairs. I would exit November 2015

O.Henry 53

Life of Jane

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a subway station in New York, as the northbound train rumbled past, climb a set of stairs, pop onto the street, and not know which way was North. Since moving to Los Angeles, city of labyrinthine freeways, I have often mused that I couldn’t have survived here before the existence of smart phones and map apps. All I remembered specifically about reaching Angel City Brewery was getting on the freeway by our home. There was a good chance I’d never find it. But even if I didn’t, driving around L.A. for hours was more palatable than sleeping with flip-flops on my lady parts. What I knew: The bar was in the Arts District. The Arts District is on the east end of Downtown. Downtown is accessible via the freeway by our home. So I hopped on it, took one of the Downtown exits, and then drove away from the sun, back and forth on different avenues. Eventually I came upon an intersection that looked familiar. I circled it in concentric paths. Finally, the bar appeared. It’s a twelve-minute drive to Angel City Brewery from our home, and I made it in an hour. That is only 300 percent longer. I deserved a badge. I was a pregnant, mostly naked Girl Scout, and I was nailing this. Next challenge, parking. Lots and meters weren’t an option, since I had no money. It’s possible I’d have found a free spot in a less congested area, but the idea of walking several blocks back to the bar, wearing nothing but a robe, made me feel vulnerable, although, I certainly would have blended into the mostly homeless community in Downtown LA. Still, there was no reason to cry — I would not cry. Then I saw that part of the bar is a parking lot, or at least a large square of asphalt. After the bouncer checks your ID, you walk through it to reach the building. This area houses a food truck and a few cars, presumably belonging to employees. If I explained my situation to the bouncer, surely he would let me park while I searched for Nathan inside. I pulled over by the entrance, turned on my hazards, exited the car for full naked-and-pregnant effect, and pleaded my case. “The lot is for employees only.” “Yeah, I figured. I was hoping you’d make some kind of allowance? It would just take a moment.” “I can’t make that kind of call.” “Of course, I understand. Could you maybe get a manager I could ask?” “We’re really understaffed tonight.” Then he turned and looked the other way, presumably because he was curious about the source of soft crying sounds, but he would have to remain curious since one can’t see the apparition of his future self, brought here by the Ghost of Christmas Past to weep in shame at his previous behavior. I was shocked by the denial. Perhaps it was time for an attractive, privileged, white girl to hear The Art & Soul of Greensboro

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O.Henry 55


Life of Jane


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the word No. I can get behind that. But at eightmonths pregnant? The third trimester trumps socio-economic and racial karma. This was unfathomable. But I could not cry. I couldn’t face the headache following the torrent once the dam cracked. So I breathed deeply, closed my eyes, and tried to formulate another plan. You might assume the bouncer is the Villain in this story. But you would be wrong. The bouncer is the Crone/Monster figure, the guardian at the gate to another world, the one who provides the hero with obstacles instead of help. The Villain made his entrance next. While I stood between my car and the chainlink fence, a group of hipster dudes approached, beginning their night on the town. They were very young, early 20s, and swaggered with the flimsiest veils of confidence. After passing me, just as soon as his cowardly back faced me instead of his face, the one wearing jorts shouted, “Heh — nice robe!” and laughed. In retrospect, just for a moment, I’ll take his comment at face value, because the robe is nice. It is a short robe, which I prefer — although not necessarily at that moment as it was the only thing between the general public and the specific private — and it was a gift that I had recently received at my baby shower, from the Feathered Nest in Greensboro. It never imagined, while hanging on the rack of that classy ladies’ shop, being fingered by lovely women with hairdos coiffed by Kathy at the Looking Ahead Salon, that it would ever find its way to a bar on a grimy street in downtown Los Angeles, worn by someone clutching a chain-link fence. But of course this young, jorted man was not judging the value of the garment, but rather of its wearer. As such, I no longer wished the bouncer a speedy delivery to hell, because if he was dealing with dill-bags like this every night then he was already in hell. And I can be sure that this particular bag of dills was the Villain, because immediately following his appearance, I snapped. First, I shouted a four-letter word at him — a bad word, the bad word — one no one in my family is allowed to utter, but which I once saw my aunt mouth in the car when she didn’t know I could see her through the rearview mirror. I followed this word with “you.” Then I started sobbing, because every story also needs a Fool. The tears, after spending more than an hour on the bench, came in strong. I convulsed. I blubbered and frothed, wiping everything on that beautiful robe. It was off-script, a new experience even for me, and certainly for my building audience. This form of wailing is unfamiliar to people, mostly as a result of its exclusion from representation in TV or film, first and foremost, because it’s remarkably unattractive, and also because breakdowns of this force surpass the demonstrative and become distracting. They steal focus. Everyone stared at the The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Opus 2015-2016


The City Arts Music Center of the Greensboro Parks & Recreation Department proudly presents the Opus Concert Series, free of charge! The popular concert series showcases outstanding musical entertainment at exciting venues throughout our community. Join us!




Sunday, November 1, 2015

3 PM

Dana Auditorium, Guilford College 5800 West Friendly Avenue

Friday, November 6, 2015

7:30 PM

Dana Auditorium, Guilford College 5800 West Friendly Avenue

Choral Society of Greensboro Jon Brotherton, Conductor

Saturday, November 7, 2015

7:30 PM

Christ United Methodist Church 410 North Holden Road

Greensboro Percussion Ensembles Mike Lasley, Conductor

Friday, November 20, 2015

7:30 PM

Trinity Church 5200 West Friendly Avenue

Marimba Christmas Andrew Dancy, Conductor

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

7 PM

Trinity Church 5200 West Friendly Avenue

Greensboro Oratorio Singers Jay O. Lambeth, Conductor

Thursday, December 3, 2015

7 PM

Carolina Theatre 310 South Greene Street

Greensboro Youth Chorus Ann Doyle and Teresa Allred, Conductors

Sunday, December 6, 2015

5 PM

First Presbyterian Church 617 North Elm Street

Greensboro Youth Jazz Ensemble Wally West, Conductor

Sunday, December 13, 2015

3 PM

Greensboro Historical Museum Auditorium 130 Summit Avenue

Sunday, February 14, 2016

6 - 8 PM

Sunday, March 6, 2016

3 PM

Greensboro Concert Band Evan Feldman, Conductor

Saturday, March 19, 2016

7:30 PM

Dana Auditorium, Guilford College 5800 West Friendly Avenue

Philharmonia of Greensboro Peter Perret, Conductor

Saturday, April 30, 2016

7:30 PM

Dana Auditorium, Guilford College 5800 West Friendly Avenue

Greensboro Youth Jazz Ensemble Wally West, Conductor

Sunday, May 1, 2016

3 PM

Greensboro Historical Museum Auditorium 130 Summit Avenue

Greensboro Youth Chorus Ann Doyle and Teresa Allred, Conductors

Monday, May 2, 2016

7 PM

Christ United Methodist Church 410 North Holden Road

Friday, May 6, 2016

7:30 PM

Page High School Auditorium 201 Alma Pinnix Drive

Saturday, May 7, 2016

7:30 PM

Christ United Methodist Church 410 North Holden Road

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

7 PM

Friday, May 13, 2016

7:30 PM

Philharmonia of Greensboro with Special Guest: Danville Symphony Orchestra

Peter Perret, Conductor Greensboro Concert Band Evan Feldman, Conductor

Greensboro Big Band, Sweet Sounds in partnership with Canterbury School; includes dancing and music

Mike Day, Conductor Philharmonia of Greensboro, Pillow Pops Concert with Special Guest: Dance Project: the School at City Arts

Peter Perret, Conductor

Greensboro Concert Band Evan Feldman, Conductor Choral Society of Greensboro Jon Brotherton, Conductor Greensboro Percussion Ensembles Mike Lasley, Conductor Greensboro Brass Ensemble Kiyoshi Carter, Conductor

For details about the concert programs: www.greensboro-nc.gov/OPUS 336-373-2549 • music@greensboro-nc.gov • www.facebook.com/cityarts1


Canterbury School, Berry Hall 5400 Old Lake Jeanette Road Lindley Recreation Center 2907 Springwood Drive

Trinity Church 5200 West Friendly Avenue Greensboro Historical Museum Auditorium 130 Summit Avenue New, unwrapped toys are being collected for FOX8 Gifts for Kids.

Life of Jane

Together, we will discover what it means to capture the moments that really matter.



2500 Summit Avenue | Greensboro, NC 27405

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58 O.Henry

November 2015

Learn more at www.hospicegso.org/light or call 336.621.2500.

commotion, eyes wide in confusion, silently asking themselves: That much fluid can exit a face? Homeless people get pregnant? Even though I was outside the fence, I was the one in a cage. Two women approached, wearing deep concern. “Are you in trouble?” This question put me in a bind. Of course I wasn’t. My pitiful appearance belied a healthy, happy, stable life. I’d cried so hard, I cried wolf. I tried to explain, to downplay my breakdown, but there were too many moving parts to the story, and I was in no state for complicated communication. In my head, I said, “It’s not that big of a deal. I’m only crying like this from the hormones [points at belly], hahaha! I’m locked out of the apartment and need to get the key from my husband inside, but I can’t leave my car.” What came out of my mouth: “Efleesh . . . big deal . . . ee-ee-ee-ee . . . [gasp, gasp, points at belly] . . . hahaha! . . . need [SNIIIIIFF] husband . . . fluh fluhhp . . . can’t leave car.” The brunette furrowed her brow, touched my arm, and asked sternly, “Is there a child in the car? Is there a child in danger?” My effort at casual self-deprecation came off as a maniacal mother who pushes her kids into traffic. “No! No!” I protested. “Everyone’s fine, I’m fine. The only child is in here [points at belly], hahaha.” Again, no laughs in response. I can’t blame the audience. “Slow down,” the blonde said. “Just slow down and explain.” As I did, I watched irritation replace the concern on their faces. “I’m sorry,” I said, “I’m just so pregnant,” as if that made sense to two beautiful, stylish women enjoying youth with friends and beers, unaware of the weepy, wild-haired, wrinkle-faced, naked-and-pregnant woman they may one day become. Perhaps I was their Ghost of Christmas Future, come to whisk them ahead a decade to glimpse their lives. I’m glad I didn’t have this idea at the time, as I would have tried to joke with them about it, and in my state, it would have come out as, “I’m a ghost and you’ll be like me,” which is definitely a death threat. I admired everything about the women, their clothes, shoes, hairstyles, makeup. And instead of simply explaining my conundrum and accepting their help, I kept trying to make them laugh, as if I needed to impress them, befriend them, which made me even more pathetic. The blonde gave me her phone to call Nathan, and while it rang, I said, “Great earrings.” She was like, “Umm . . . OK?” They didn’t want to exchange email addresses with this terrifying human harbinger. But I didn’t want to either. I hadn’t fallen for them, but for the nostalgia of their lifestyle. Their equally fabulous young friends waited on the sidewalk, ready to embark on some adventure. I was headed somewhere The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Life of Jane different: motherhood, forever. This was my new identity. Everyone could see. I was bare. Sherlock Holmes couldn’t have disguised me. Houdini couldn’t have made me disappear. Meanwhile, inside, Nathan received my call — from the same area code in which, as chance would have it, the previous owner of his number lived. He assumed it was another of the many debt collectors still trying to reach said previous owner, and sent his hysterical wife directly to voicemail. My new BFFs/former selves and I moved to Plan B, sending them back inside to find him. Before they left, though, I texted Nathan’s number from the same phone, just in case he checked it. Then I gave them his description, following it with, “just look for the devastatingly handsome one,” still trying to make them laugh, still without success. And they left. Moments later, HAVING RECEIVED THE TEXT, Nathan appeared at the door, laughing. But when he saw my face, he wiped the smile faster than his inner voice could say, “Do not laugh at your sobbing, pregnant wife.” By the time the image of the crazy person before him hit the back of his retina, flipped itself and traveled to his brain, he’d already executed the switch. And then, I assume, while his brain filed through logged images of unstable people, looking for a match, it simultaneously identified a verbal plan that would elicit a sane response from the woman inside the instability, by whom he needed to sleep safely for the foreseeable future. “Aw, honey,” is what he chose, and that would do. I’ve never hugged him so hard. A hundred people saw a basically barefoot woman with child, crying on the street in her bathrobe, until she was rescued by her man. I set back feminism fifty years. And then I needed to flee.I waited for the women to reappear from the bar, waved them down, pointed at Nathan, and shouted, “He got my text!” They approached and asked me, “Are you sure you’re OK?” Nathan later said they shot him suspicious looks. Who knows what they thought he’d done. Then they left with their friends, with my previous life, slowly receding beyond my vision forever. I went home to take Tylenol and sleep. The next morning, Nathan said, “It’s pretty funny, though.” “Nope,” I replied. “Not funny. Too soon.” I had done a very “good job,” truly one of the best jobs I’ll ever do. But I wasn’t ready that morning to have this mishap mocked with applause. “One day we’ll laugh about this,” he asserted. “That day is not today, Nathan,” I replied. Then he asked, “Wait, I just realized, if you didn’t have your phone — how did you ever find the bar?” OH Jane Borden lives in Los Angeles with her patient husband and new infant, who, surprisingly, cries very little. The Art & Soul of Greensboro

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November 2015 How Do Birds Fly? my son asks tonight before bed. He’s five and I’m trying to read

The Magic School Bus to him, but he’s having none of this story, because earlier at the park he came to me, pulled me by the hand and showed me a dead sparrow beneath the slide. When I said we should leave it alone, he said no we had to do something and of course he was right so we did what I didn’t want to do

and I’ve had two glasses of wine, and he’s asking how birds fly, so I say they have wings, muscles

brought the bird home buried it in the backyard

like we have legs and muscles that allow us to walk and he looks

tied together two popsicle sticks to make a cross for the gravesite.

at me and says if we’re like the birds are you going to die? and I say some day

I said a prayer, Lord, please watch over this small bird

but not today or anytime soon and he says it’s like magic isn’t it?

and may its soul rest in peace. When I looked over my son was crying.

what’s that, Trevor? how birds can fly, he says.

I hugged him, said these things happen and he said he knew, then ran

And I think muscle and bone and nerve synapse. I think five years old, and I say yes

inside and played video games for an hour while I made dinner. Now it’s late,

it is like magic, all of it, as I stand to turn out the lights. — Steve Cushman


Great Harvest Meal Challenge Five chefs, five ingredients . . . Let’s eat!


By Nancy Oakley • Photographs by Amy Freeman

all it O.Henry’s take on reality TV. Borrowing from the format of the popular program Chopped, we asked five local chefs to create something — either a composed dish or multiple dishes — using five, locally sourced ingredients typical of the season: pork sausage (ground or link); sweet potatoes; grits from the Old Mill at Guilford; greens other than collards; local honey or homemade jam. We left the definition of “local” open to interpretation — and in some cases it’s wide open — and allowed our cooks to use other items in their pantries to prepare the dishes. We also eliminated the pressure of competition. No judging here; our mission is simply to celebrate creativity in the kitchen.

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Diane Compton

Kitchen and home specialist, Williams-Sonoma “Sometimes a dish will stick in your memory forever,” Diane Compton says, recalling a five-layered terrine of fried blue, yellow and corn grits that she’d eaten during a trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico, long ago. “I tried for years to replicate the flavor of those grits. Who knew all I needed was the Old Mill?” Her spin: layers of white and yellow grits fried in a Finex cast-iron skillet from WilliamsSonoma, of course, at the Shops at Friendly, where she teaches cooking classes. Using honey from Quaker Acres Apiaries that she discovered at the Greensboro Farmers Curb Market, she topped the grits with orange honey butter. “Citrus lightens and brightens the honey butter. You can add some orange zest for more pronounced orange flavor,” Compton adds. Moving on to the sweet potato, which she also found at the farmers market, Compton “opted for easy” with sweet potato soup. How easy? “Forget peeling and boiling, let’s roast ’em!” Compton enthuses. “Roasting concentrates the flavors and they’re super easy to peel and use,” she explains, and suggests “resisting the urge to overwhelm the soup with too much onion and garlic. A little fried bacon works well as a salty counterpoint to the sweet potato.” She chopped up some

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chives for color and aroma. “I used housecured bacon from Gate City Butcher and Gourmet Market.” The chives came from her own herb garden, something Compton encourages every cook to cultivate. “As a transplanted Texan, it is a constant delight to discover how well things grow in N.C.,” she observes. She mixed it all together in a blender, which she says, produces a “wonderful texture” in soups — without added cream or butter. For her pièce de resistance, Compton chose risotto. Again, Gate City Butcher provided her with the pork: Chef Freddy Gentile’s sweet Italian sausage, which she sliced and browned. Using Carnaroli rice instead of Arborio, a combination of wild mushrooms and Baby Bellas, and Madeira (“good in cold weather”), Compton reduced the labor from what is typically a labor-intensive dish by tossing it all into a pressure cooker. “You can still get the creamy texture and bite that risotto devotées love,” she says. Topping it off with a peppery note that offsets the richness of the sausage and mushrooms, Compton added roughly chopped arugula from Flora Ridge Farm in Mt. Airy. “Add them the last few minutes before serving,” she advises, “and let them wilt.” Why these three dishes? “With the nights getting cooler and darker, you just kind of gravitate toward what I would call more grounded food,” Compton says, admitting to a more self-interested reason: adding new options to her repertoire for entertaining.

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Felicia McMillan Executive chef and general manager, Lucky 32 Southern Kitchen

Fall, “is more of a challenge, creatively,” says Felicia McMillan, executive chef and general manager of Lucky 32 in Greensboro. “It’s not as exciting as the spring and in terms of the produce, you’re extremely limited — and how many things can you do with butternut squash?” she says with a twinkle in her eye. After some consideration, McMillan decided the five fall ingredients in O.H.’s Harvest Meal Challenge would work well blended together into a single breakfast dish. “Grits are so versatile, you can make them savory, sweet. Do whatever you want with them,” she explains. Recalling a recipe she’d created for pumpkin oatmeal, McMillan hit upon the idea of making purée from Cedar Hill Farms’ sweet potatoes (available at the Piedmont Triad Farmers Market on Sandy Ridge Road) and then mixing it into the grits. “So you have a seemingly sweet grit,” she notes, the perfect counterpoint for something livelier. “I love sweet and hot,” McMillan says. “Who doesn’t like sweet and spicy at the same time?” Her solution: pepper honey. Her apiary of choice is the Pleasant Bee in Raleigh. “They actually certify the people in North Carolina who are beekeepers; they’re pretty fantastic,” McMillan offers. To provide the heat, she thought about adding poblano peppers to the honey but opted for a more familiar favorite, Texas Pete siracha, aka CHA! The single, sweet-hot base of grits needed just the right kind of sausage to complement it. For McMillan, there is only one: Italian sausage from Hickory Nut Ridge near Asheville. “We are huge, huge fans of theirs. We are getting every pork we possibly can from them. We’ve been getting ground beef from them. They are just outstanding small farmers.” With four out of the five ingredients down, McMillan selected creasy greens, aka Upland cress, found in the wild in central N.C. “Creasies have that chicory watercress note to them, so I thought, ‘bring some of it out with the pepper, but don’t kill it with the honey,’” she says. Just one problem: Creasy greens were difficult to find, so McMillan substituted with locally produced watercress, which proved “a bummer.” But no matter, McMillan found her rustic creation “yummy,” overall, thanks in large part to the grits and the sausage. It’s a hearty one, too, perfect for cold mornings at the family breakfast table. And that’s what cooking this time of year is all about she says. “When you think about fall food, it may not be as much celebration of produce, but it’s home, it’s family, just takes you to a different place.”

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Bill Carone

Third-year student, Culiary Arts, GTCC For Bill Carone, third-year student at Guilford Tech’s Culinary Arts program, there’s nothing that says “fall” and “Thanksgiving” like football. In assisting a fellow student at a food competition, he had made a quenelle of grit, the inspiration for his contribution to the Great Harvest Meal Challenge. “I thought, ‘OK, I can make these bigger than we did for the competition. And I’ll make quenelle of grits. And they’ll look like little footballs.’” Placing them alongside starters of purple sweet potato fries on top of a purée of sweet potato, sourced from a vendor at the Piedmont Triad Farmers Market and sweetened with honey from Houser Farms in Vale, North Carolina, Carone actually decorated the “lacing” on the quenelle “footballs” with a sauce from homemade red raspberry jam (also from Houser Farms). He’s a fan of late summer fruit, which he feels is often underused. Accompanying the quenelle “footballs” on the sweet potato “gridiron” were sausage patties, actually links that Carone sliced and fried. Using pork from Circle W Farms in Waughtown, Carone ground the meat in his own grinder at his home in King. “It’s so easy!” he says. “You can do it in under ten minutes.” So easy, in fact, that Carone has developed some lamb sausage profiles to offer to friends who keep Kosher, though casings for them are tricky to find in these parts. And the casings, or caul fat are key. In order to achieve the larger size he desired for this challenge, Carone sourced some sheets of caul fat from a fellow sausage lover, and shaped them. (Pigskin, anyone?) When making any sausage, he says he likes to go easy on the salt, so the basic flavors of the meat can shine. Finishing off the plating, Carone then fashioned a salad of arugula, also from the Triad Farmers Market and situated it on the “end zone” portion of his edible football field. Assisting Carone in the organization, chopping and cleanup were two classmates, first-year student Haley Bird and second-year student Nicole Summers. “They seemed to enjoy the food, too,” Carone observes, adding that “Everything turned out way better than I had anticipated.” Touchdown!

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Brian Anderson

Executive chef, Emerywood Fine Foods, High Point Among diners at Emerywood Fine Foods in High Point there’s a notso-exclusive group called the Clean Plate Club, and Brian Anderson, the restaurant’s executive chef, does everything in his power to attract new “members.” His creations for the challenge will likely appear on Emerywood’s menu — and make his dishwashers’ jobs a lot easier. What could be more classic than shrimp and grits? Instead of the usual Andouille sausage, Anderson simply made meatballs out of a local favorite, Neese’s, and let its inherent spice work magic. Apart from a little white wine, he didn’t stray too far from the traditional recipe calling for salt, pepper and butter. For the sweeter companion to the savory, Anderson was a little more adventurous. “I took some sweet potatoes, seasoned them with vanilla, nutmeg and cinnamon,” he says, “and made a cake covered in house-made granola,” a combination of oats baked in sugar, brown cinnamon and honey, mixed together with panko bread crumbs in a food processor and pan-seared. He added a honey-infused béchamel, a dollop of house-made fig jam on the side, and to cut the sweetness of all the flavors, topped the cake with a salad of arugula and red peppers, dressed in balsamic vinegar and olive oil with a garnish of almond slivers. All of the ingredients, he says, came from the North Carolina section of his local Harris Teeter. “I wanted to make something nice and elegant. I also wanted to make a dish that tastes good, where all the flavors go together,” Anderson explains. “Sweet potatoes complement the honey, honey complements the figs, put it all together, they complement each other.” Aesthetics figured into Anderson’s calculation as well: “The pretty colors in the sweet potatoes and honey remind me of the fall season right when the leaves are about to change, right when the weather is starting to change, when it starts getting dark around 5:15 or 5:30. You just want to be home, comfortable, warm, with something nice to eat.” Or at Emerywood Fine Foods, where, no doubt, you’ll send your plate back to the kitchen, gleaming.

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Trey Bell

Executive chef and owner, L a Rue “I like limitations,” says Trey Bell, owner and executive chef of La Rue in downtown. “When you’re a chef, and you cook for other people all night, you get home and you don’t cook too much,” he says. Recalling the early days of his career, Bell explains how his wife Cheryl would clean out the fridge on his days off. “She’d lay out all the stuff I’d have to cook and I’d have to come up with something.” So O.Henry’s proposal of using five local ingredients appealed to the former college athlete’s competitive streak. “I always push my own boundaries,” he says. Bell — and his “pirate crew,” sous-chef Daniel Rider and demi-sous chef Kevin Cottrell — certainly tested the boundaries with two dishes — and in La Rue’s kitchen, which has no open flame, only a food dehydrator, induction burners, immersion circulators and a blow torch. “Breakfast,” is Bell’s spin on boudin blanc, a Louisina dish consisting of sausage stuffed with rice. In this case, he ground up pork belly from Berkshire pork raised “a couple of counties away,” and combined it with the Old Mill Grits. “We took dry grits and added that in as cornmeal, and flash-fried it,” he explains. For greens, Bell made a gratina of sheep sorrel — that he foraged himself on his farm in Summerfield and seasoned with rosemary and thyme — a fresh note to the grit-and-sausage balls. As part of the presentation, he served it with toast topped with a compote of raspberries, blackberries and verjus, the pressed juice of unripened grapes. For “dessert,” Cottrell whipped up a sweet potato mousse and shaped it into a quenelle. “That’s a big thing: Do a quenelle and press into it,” he says, pointing to the imprint in the shape into which he poured honey caramel — made with honey that Bell harvested from his own apiary (see “The Honeydrippers” p. 68). “I like using local,” Bell says. “I think foods taste better when they’re at their optimal time.” The sweet potatoes came from a neighbor up the road from his farm, and in addition to the base for the mousse, were used as a garnish, alongside a cremeux of blueberry, dollops of yuzu curd and dustings of powdered honey, powdered King’s Hawaiian streusel and edible blueberry pistachio soil. It is now a plated dessert on LaRue’s latest menu. If this is limitation, we’ll gladly order more. OH

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The Honeydrippers By Nancy Oakley • Photographs by Amy Freeman


hen asked for the source of the honey he was using in the Great Harvest Meal Challenge, chef and owner of La Rue restaurant Trey Bell nonchalantly replied: “In Summerfield. At my house.” Bell and his wife, Cheryl live on more than a hundred acres, a smorgasbord for bees. They are surrounded by fields of goldenrod; they have a spacious backyard with crabapple and pear trees, blackberry bushes and a garden growing Jerusalem artichokes (aka sunchokes) and mint, familiar flavors on La Rue’s menus. Though they had never kept the insects before, the Bells thought they’d give it a go. Compared to the exotic snakes that Trey used to breed, bees prove far lower-maintenance. “We got an established colony,” he says of the Italian bees swarming around what looks like a small chest of drawers, called a super. The very bottom one is essentially

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a nursery, to use Trey’s analogy, where the queen spends most of her time brooding; occasionally she’ll visit the super just above it to brood as well. The rest of the colony takes its cue from her: Essentially, if Mamma ain’t happy, nobody’s happy. But as long as things are copacetic with Her Majesty, the other bees in the colony fill the remaining supers with honey, their food storage from the pollen collected from all that yummy goldenrod and garden plants. They pack it into hexagonal cells, cap those with wax, and voilà! A honeycomb. Donning heavy gloves and armed with a smoker, Trey or Cheryl will divert the bees away from the hive and extract the honey from the combs. This particular harvest is a light blonde shade — evidence of the goldenrod — its sweetness tinged with hints of blackberry and perhaps wildflower or peppers. Decide for yourself, when you taste a spoonful of honey ice cream at La Rue; regardless of what your taste buds tell you, they’ll agree on one thing: This stuff is lip-smackin’ good. OH The Art & Soul of Greensboro

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God’s Little Acre For self-schooled gardener Rachel Rees, the key to a bountiful life was letting loose the joy — and artist — in her own soul By Jim Dodson • Photographs by Lynn Donovan


says Rachel Rees, her voice catching. “Have you seen anything quite so handsome? Don’t you just love the autumn garden? I think it’s the best time of year to garden. You see so much and the plants have put out their very best.” The object of Rees’ exclamatory affection is, of all things, a small birch tree anchoring one of her backyard’s remarkable perennial beds, one of several spectacular borders and beds that surround the handsome Oak Ridge home — and empty nest — she shares with husband, Christopher, and dog, Charlie. On this cool Indian summer afternoon an hour before twilight, a visitor, who has heard tales of Rees’ evangelical zeal for plants from her admiring colleagues in the Guilford Horticultural Society, has dropped in, hoping to get a friendly look at her garden as it slips from summer into autumn.

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Turns out, a stunning autumn garden is only the beginning of a much deeper story of rebirth and gratitude. Rees holds forth on the birch’s architecture as if it might be one of her own children, Owen and Tom, homeschooled and recently graduated from college, and now making their own way into the world. Barely catching a breath, she moves on to beds where hardy verbena blooms glow among tasseled spires of goldenrod. Nearby rose of Sharon blooms along with the last of summer’s cleome and zinnias the size of dinner plates. When her visitor remarks on an adjacent bed where several shrubs are riotously in bloom, Rees lets out a throaty laugh. “Oh, goodness. That’s my mulch pile where I dump all my yard wastes. I trimmed back that crepe myrtle and tossed a handful of seeds there just for fun and — wow — look at what came up! By November 2015

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the way, check out this amazing chive ground cover! Isn’t it wonderful? I’ll dig you up some. And these rugosa rose hips . . . gosh, don’t you love them?” With this, she sets off across the lawn to a vast perennial bed where hundreds — maybe thousands — of bees are gathering summer’s last nectar from tartan asters, Joe Pye weed, shasta daisies, wild phlox, sedum, passion flowers and a golden groundcover called patrina. In the rear of the bed, Texas hibiscus blooms bob in the light evening breeze and even delicate yellow and orange lantana blossoms are hanging on. She explains how, come November, she will simply mow it all down to green shoots for the winter, spread a little mulch and watch it come uproariously back to life next spring, bigger and more vibrant than ever. “I love to let the plants find their own way,” she pauses to reflect. “They’re like people. They just want to find their proper place and will thrive given half a chance and a little encouragement. Oh, look at this pineapple sage!” she interrupts herself with a delighted yelp, a gardener’s hortgasm. “Have you ever seen anything like this? It will turn the most glor-REE-ous golden in a few weeks’ time,” she trills. “It’s really the star of my garden, I think. It’s not supposed to be hardy in this area but mine always comes back year after year. Amazing, don’t you think?” Actually, amazing doesn’t quite cover it. Rees’s passion for plants and knowledge of them is dazzling and so blessedly unpretentious and full of earthy common sense wisdom, you can feel her joy to your bones as you’re ambling to keep up with her. Around a corner of the house, past her window garden with its frothy Japanese maples and beloved tree peonies, a wall of limelight hydrangeas gives way to understory of magnolias — tulip, star

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and saucer varieties — Yoshino cherries and a beautiful Black Dragon Japanese cedar, a woodland garden that’s more like an overgrown arboretum, a cottage shade garden gone wild with toad lilies and Jewel of Opar and blooming hardy begonias and tiny sheltered flowers only she knows the name of, which is exactly how Rees envisioned this bare suburban patch when she started planting it a decade ago. She explains her hope was to create a tapestry wall of beautiful plants and trees, a slightly chaotic Eden of wonderful plants where she could garden, if it pleased milady, au naturel. As she lets out this surprising revelation, she bursts out laughing at her own joke. “How much land do you actually have here?” her visitor finally wonders, marveling at the layers of foliage, blooms and textures, shimmering in the last golden light of day. “Just one acre,” she replies. “You’ve created God’s little acre.” Rees blushes, as if a tender nerve has been touched. “Thank you for saying that. Twenty years ago, I knew absolutely nothing about gardening and plants. This has been God’s gift to me. One of many I’m so grateful for. You wouldn’t have recognized me back then, I’m afraid. But people and plants grow. You could say a garden helped change my life.” If this strikes you as a rather unusual comment from a lady who has twice served as president of the vaunted Guilford Horticultural Society and is famous for her organizing moxie and imagination, well, get a good grip on to your garden spade. Rees is a woman whose abundantly flowering life is full of inspiring surprises and epiphanies — something of a poster girl, you might say, for the transformative power of faith, family, gardens and art. The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Stepping inside her house, for example, her visitor finds a dining room filled with beautiful landscape oil paintings, including one sitting on an easel next to a stack of large frames standing almost waist-high. “Do you frame paintings for people?” Rees gives another infectious laugh. “Oh, no. These are mine. I get the frames from Goodwill and junk shops. I’m the ultimate frugal painter.” Simply put, her oils are arrestingly beautiful, soulful renderings of moody landscapes that recall the work of Turner and Constable with a bit of the Hudson River School thrown in for seasoning. Her use of light and sky is particularly striking, so natural you expect these clouds to be moving. The surprised visitor finally finds his voice and asks how long she has been painting, assuming she’ll say a decade or two. “Not long,” she comes back almost offhandedly. “Eighteen months or so. When our boys went off to college, I decided I needed something new to learn about.” And to hear her tell it, all of this started with an ordinary rose hanging onto a single bud, bought at Winn-Dixie now almost two decades ago.


er lads were mere sprouts, and she and Chris were living in their first small house in a subdivision out in Pleasant Garden. She picks up the story from there. “Our lot was new and sadly very bare, dirt and scruffy grass with one dying evergreen. Chris was just getting his business going, and I had absolutely no money to spend on gardening but happened to see this potted rose at the Winn-Dixie. It had just one little bud, so I bought it and brought it home, The Art & Soul of Greensboro

pulled up the dead plant and simply stuck it in the ground. I remember thinking that I could make that rose grow and produce more blooms.” From such thoughts come bouquets. She bought gardening books off eBay and began volunteering at garden shows, where she picked up invaluable tidbits from experienced gardeners, developing a network of friends who gave her cuttings and seeds and — most of all — encouragement and plant wisdom. Many of her new friends happened to be members of GHS. Jeanette Wyndham, founder of the society, hired Rees to weed her garden — becoming an early mentor — and urged her to join GHS. Eventually she did just that, but in the meantime she weeded the gardens of elderly folks and scoured the garden center remainder aisle (“Death Row for plants at the end of the season,” she quips, “you could get nice plants for a quarter apiece”) and rescued neglected or abandoned plantings from ditches and empty houses. She also began attending garden symposiums and eventually worked as a volunteer at booths at plant exhibitions, buying whole exhibits for a song from exhibitors who didn’t want to haul their plants home. “I once got a hundred shrubs and trees for, like, seventy-five dollars — spent an entire day carrying plants home in Chris’s truck. He thought I’d lost my mind but it was like Christmas to me.” “When Rachel first came to the society, she was so fresh and enthusiastic and full of ideas, I think some of the older members were a little startled by her enthusiasm,” remembers longtime member Lynda Waldrep. “But her joy and can-do attitude about everything in life won them over quickly. She joked about being a Dumpster-diver gardener who’d taught herself how to garden, but when you see what she’s accomplished in her gardens out in Oak Ridge, it’s clear this is a gifted woman who loves plants as well as gardens. She earned everyone’s respect.” November 2015

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achel Rees laughs almost embarrassedly when she hears such lavish compliments from colleagues, casually mentioning the deeper transformation that went hand-in-spade with her botanical awakening, one that had its roots in the rough soil of her teenage years. The daughter of a brilliant engineer and the eldest of four children, Rees was a rising sophomore in high school when her parents decided to load up a Ryder truck and head east from their home in Utah to find “someplace to put down real roots and grow a life.” They drove as far as Goldsboro, then turned around and came back to Graham for a time before settling in rural Randolph County, where her mother lives today. With three younger brothers, Rees was already developing her take-charge skills. “Religion was always part of my life but I never developed a relationship with God, perhaps because I was so self-sufficient and busy being a caretaker to my brothers. Secretly, all I ever wanted was to be a great wife and mom. So I went off to UNCG in 1986, carrying a lot of complex feelings within me.” She met Chris Rees in a class called Eastern Communist Political Systems. He was a bright bloke from Leeds, England, who’d come to America to attend school and start a business of some kind. “We were the strict capitalists in the class,” he jokes. “I quickly realized that Rachel was a gal who, once she took the bit in her teeth, would be off and running, with no one to stop her. Anything she puts her mind to is going to happen.” Today Chris runs his own gourmet meat and fish service, selling to customers across the region. Her first real epiphany came not long after the birth of her sons and the passion unleashed by that lone potted rose at the Winn-Dixie. “Maybe it was motherhood or the garden but I realized that I needed to open up my life to others,” she explains. “You wouldn’t have recognized me before that.

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I was so judgmental; I carried so much anger about things that had happened earlier in my life, disappointments and wounds, things I needed to make peace with and let go of. I realized that I could die and no one would really know I’d been here — so I decided to start doing things people do when they want to find the real meaning in their lives.” One of those things was gardening. Another was simply taking her young boys to church. “Someone told me about Westover Church, which had just moved from Westover Terrace out to Muirs Chapel Road. I decided to go and remember the moment my hand touched the front door handle; I actually began to cry. I cried all the way through the service, in fact. People were so kind and welcoming. The minister — Don Miller — was so humble and warm. It felt like coming home at last.” Soon she was teaching Sunday school and studying the Gospels and actively participating in an adult study group. “That was the missing piece for me — learning to open up and accept everyone on their own terms, to experience the power of love and forgiveness found through Jesus. After I told my story in Bible study class, someone remarked to me that I needed to do a lot of forgiving. She was right. That’s when I just let it all go. I began to look at the world and everyone very differently — to seek out people rather than avoid them.” She also took on homeschooling her boys from the middle of public grade school onward. By late middle school years, Owen, the elder, had already mastered senior high calculus. She calls him the “family brain.” Thomas, his younger brother, was more laid-back and “big with the girls from the second grade on,” but equally gifted in math and science. Both boys finished high school early and enrolled at GTCC for advanced science and math classes. Owen, now 23, earned a full-ride scholarship to MIT, while Thomas, 21, finished UNC-Chapel Hill on a similar scholarship last spring. “We’re an empty nest,” adds Chris wryly, “and all The Art & Soul of Greensboro

we had to buy were new clothes and laptops.” Rachel Rees falls silent, sitting peacefully at the beautiful marble counter in her Oak Ridge kitchen. Outside a lone hummingbird is flitting around in the last golden light of the garden she began when she, Chris and the lads moved to their new grassy acre a decade ago. She pours her visitor another glass of wine and smiles. “Sometimes I look back on it and almost can’t believe how wonderful life became when I reached out to God and other people. I can’t begin to express my gratitude for all this abundance. The garden and our boys are gifts, symbols of the growth in me.” She thinks a moment and adds with a modest shrug, “And now there’s the painting.”


t was through a unique art ministry of First Baptist Church in Winston-Salem that she found yet another means to express her gratitude — and an outlet for her bountiful gifts. She signed up for a series of four beginning painting classes for $25. “First, it was cheap, and I’d always had this urge to try painting. The idea of it is also so romantic and supposedly freeing. I had no idea if I would be any good or not.” She didn’t — but others quickly did, including the class’s teacher, acclaimed muralist/painter and Reynolda House Museum of American Art’s first director, Nick Bragg, who spotted Rees’s talents the first day he watched her work at the church. “In forty years of teaching, I’ve seen maybe one other student like her. She’s an absolute natural, a gift that comes out of her head and soul. She visualizes whatever it is she wants to paint and simply starts doing it. She goes at it tooth and nail and gets better each time out. From day one I knew she was very special.” Bragg is amused by her natural frugality, how excited she gets by the gift of used brushes from him, which she rehabilitates; the happiness she displays when he gives her used tubes of paint and old canvases she repurposes for her own work — even how she scours secondhand shops and sales for handsome hardwood frames for her own paintings. Rees now paints with her mentor at his studio home every Thursday morning. She’s also begun buying books on painting off eBay and adding them to her sizable gardening library. Her paintings now hang in the Fourth Street Art & Frame in Winston-Salem, and at an antiques store called Golden Antiques & Treasures in Stokesdale. Also available on Craigslist. For the moment, at least, they sell for anywhere from $50 to $100. “If she keeps working at it,” says Bragg, “Rachel will be a real force and have a gallery showing of her own, probably sooner than later. She really has a gift. It’s a delight to watch her grow.” Not surprisingly, back at God’s Little Acre, Rachel Rees laughs when she hears such praise from the likes of her famous mentor, as if it can’t possibly be true. “With winter coming and the boys gone,” she says, “I’ll be painting a lot.” OH The Art & Soul of Greensboro

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Autumn Homecoming At Summerfield Farms, an autumn evening to remember By Ogi Overman Photographs by Lynn Donovan


t’s the optimum time of year for an outdoor affair, whether to celebrate the harvest, as the ancients did, guiding horse-drawn carts laden with fruits and vegetables to a communal supper that often included singing and dancing under the light of a brilliant harvest moon, or to bid adieu to the long, sun-drenched days of summer. With just enough hint of crispness in the air, autumn is, as John Keats notes in his beloved paean to it, the “season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.” Where better, in our frenetic, digitized lives to honor fall’s bounty than the setting that produced it, a working farm replete with hay bales, a grassy meadow, a tranquil pond? And in a cheerily festooned barn, the bounty itself is laid out: grass-fed beef on a carving board, vegetables, cheeses, fruit, jams and desserts so rich they defy description. And the convivial tones of such a setting? For as Keats assured his muse, “Thou hast thy music, too!” Our modern sensibility might reach for Neil Young’s Harvest Moon, perhaps as a prelude to the live strains of guitar and fiddle, before a more raucous ensemble takes the stage, whipping revelers into a joyous frenzy. Do such scenes exist only in the imaginations of poets and dreamers?

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Of course not. There is such a place, just a stone’s throw from the imagination: Summerfield Farms, the setting for revelry, replete with hay bales and barns and musicians playing for a dancing crowd under a moon. Not a harvest moon, but a waxing moon to illuminate the occasion, a honeymoon. He, the handsome local boy who’s made good, she, a Nashville siren serenading family and friends. The guests mingle and sway to the music in the autumn night, smiling at the wedded pair who steal a moment for a quiet dance. And then, all gaze upward as a colorful blaze of fireworks cracks and fizzles in the crystalline sky. Raise the song of harvest home. OH Summerfield Farms offers private and group tours of its operations, a speaker series and seasonal events. Its venues are available to rent for weddings, celebrations and corporate events. For more information, please call (336) 643-2006 or visit summerfieldfarms.com. Ogi Overman is a frequent contributor to O.Henry magazine. The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Party lights and Nashville luminaries light up Summerfield Farms; (above, left to right): Jamie O’Neal, Rodney Good, Lucas Hoge, Stephanie Quayle, Phil Barton, Chas Sanford

Newlyweds Stephanie Quayle and David Couch celebrate their marriage with a farm feast and fireworks.

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Story of a House

The House That Chose Her

Beth Deloria and Jim Austin find true community in a bungalow beauty — and the inspiration to pay it forward By Cynthia Adams • Photographs by Amy Freeman


o we choose a house, or does a house choose us? As Beth Deloria parked her white BMW in front of an aging old beauty in 2004, the house seemed to say “home” — not literally, but something spoke to her. She could see from her car that while it lacked curb appeal, it did have certain charms. Did her heart beat a bit faster? The prospect of becoming a firsttime homeowner was exciting enough for a single professional woman living in a College Hill apartment. Despite newish exterior siding and upfitted windows, the one-story dwelling was dated — or in realtor’s parlance, a fixer-upper. It had other issues that might have driven many first-time buyers far away, but Deloria saw the Fisher Park bungalow through the bright prospect of possibilities. “It was a very popular bungalow type with an engaged roof, meaning it extends to cover the front porch,” offers Mike Cowhig, who works for the City of Greensboro Planning Department. And it met one important criterion: location. Sitting within the Fisher Park National Register Historic District, the bungalow, according to a city directory, likely dates to 1926 — a decade older than the realtor had estimated. The resident at the time was K. M. Brim, says Cowhig. “The tax department assigns an age to the tax card — an educated guess — and real estate agents see it and that’s what they use.” The house’s location on Wharton Street means historic Green Hill cemetery sits adjacent — not an address for the skittish, but that word hardly describes Deloria. She bristles with a surprising degree of determination per ounce of her tiny frame. A fit brunette, her gray eyes fairly glint with it. Initially intending to become a professional athlete, she has a deep affinity for all things athletic, especially for soccer, golf, running and almost any other sport. In spite of her competitive streak or perhaps because of it, Deloria also roots for the underdog. This house was not exactly a dog, but definitely an underdog. It had been neglected. The realtor, she recalls, would not even venture down to the basement during the property showing. Deloria went into the dark space alone, and discovered an expansive, hand-dug basement that was even larger than the upper floor. There were also cobwebs, spiders and little light, but Deloria remained unfazed.

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Few alterations or improvements had been made in the many decades since the house was built. Those that had been — the washer and dryer vied with the tub and toilet for space in an upstairs bathroom — simply didn’t work. On the flip side, the bungalow offered a fresh canvas. Deloria is also a painter; the painter in her liked that it would eventually bear her personal stamp. Also on the plus side, the house featured Craftsman-style details — Deloria’s very favorite. “I think some of the houses on Wharton Street were ‘kit’ houses,” says Cowhig. “They were manufactured by Sears, Alladin and other companies and shipped by rail and assembled on site. You do recognize houses in Fisher Park in early 20th-century plan books.” There was a generous front porch (thanks to the engaged roof), which was made for sitting, and as Deloria observed right away, Fisher Park was a porch kind of neighborhood. Did she imagine herself sitting on that porch, such a bonus, which was like gaining an outdoor room? Deloria, who lives to be outdoors and also likes nothing more than sharing a good chat, makes connections easily; yes, she could envision that. The neighbors were kindly people who gardened and shared pride of place. Deloria stayed positive; she ticked up the pluses. Given that she was still single, the location was in a safe neighborhood with proximity to downtown, all things pointed to the fact that Deloria would say “yes” to the house. Sweetening the deal was the prospect of a new NewBridge Bank Park, (originally First Horizons Park), then under construction and only blocks away. A lover of baseball, the avid sportswoman imagined walking to the stadium and rooting for the home team, the Grasshoppers — alongside

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then-boyfriend and now husband, Jim Austin, president of Austin Electrical Enclosures in Yadkinville, who shared a love of sports. The pair met while playing on a Triad soccer team.


ustin lived in a new three-story townhouse in the Southside neighborhood and like Deloria, enjoyed the flexibility of walking to restaurants and events; their lifestyle was suited to downtown living — but Austin was pulling for Deloria to move to Southside. While the Fisher Park house ostensibly had aspects that were positive, its interior required blinders to love. Deloria was a frequent baker, who created special-occasion cookies

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that were decorated by hand. But in this kitchen? It lacked space. It lacked charm. It lacked light. It was dreary and sad, with little counter space available for cooking. Deloria, characteristically upbeat, adds, “The house had good bones.” She saw possibilities. Such as her father’s Arts and Crafts–style dining room light that she had long coveted. Furnishings from the period resonated with Deloria — they would look so right in the house with its earth tones and generous interior trim. It was a straightforward, no-nonsense house. She could tackle many of the cosmetic elements. Deloria could re-envision the house with a hearty application of love, spit and polish. She made an offer. It was a risky move given the trajectory Deloria’s life had taken. For one, she had just had spinal fusion in May that The Art & Soul of Greensboro

year and wore a back brace following surgery. For another, she faced the threat of a potential layoff from her job as an account manager at ELS Marketing & Design. But Deloria felt a sea-change was approaching. “In one sense I felt I had finally grown up. I was approaching 40, but feeling 90 after having the back surgery,” she jokes. The thing she liked from the beginning was simply that, after years of renting, “It was my first house, and it was mine.” In October of 2004, Deloria exchanged her historic College Hill address for historic Fisher Park. And then she panicked slightly, thinking, “I don’t have money to fix this house!” The years of faux-painting and various odd jobs had left her with a smaller bank account than most people her age (38). “And,” she adds, “I didn’t know what I was facing with The Art & Soul of Greensboro

my back issues.” Could she handle the challenge of rehabilitation — hers and a house’s — simultaneously? A little encouragement can go a long way. When Deloria’s mother, Anne, first toured the bungalow, she saw the same possibilities that her middle child had seen: “My mom walked in and said, ‘Wow, it has got great bones!’” Then her friend Stacey Toben, a nurse who had supported her throughout her back surgery and recovery, checked it out and exclaimed, “This looks great!” The house gave her new focus. Battling permanent foot drop, Deloria fueled an all-consuming desire to run again, participating in the Chicago Marathon, and qualifying for the Boston Marathon, too — while wearing a specialized brace. But that, too, gave her impetus to persevere. Deloria began November 2015

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making appearances on behalf of the brace’s manufacturer, Allard USA, and ultimately left ELS to work full time for the company as their community outreach spokesperson, running monthly marathons across the nation and interfacing with others coping with physical challenges. Over time, the house also overcame limitations. It fulfilled Deloria’s expectations despite fears and setbacks, and grew emblematic of her own life and recovery. Just as Deloria powered through post-surgery with the help of a crack medical team, the Wharton Street house took on new life with special help. “It has sort of been a metaphor for my whole body. I did what I could, and then a professional came in and took over,” Deloria explains. She ripped out rotting carpet, painted, and decorated with an expanding art collection. (Both Deloria and Austin are

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keen art collectors, with a strong interest in area and international artists.) Austin, who had initially been skeptical of the undertaking, gradually began to spend more time in her bungalow than in his new townhome. When the couple took a vacation to France, he carried a diamond ring in his pocket. He asked Deloria to marry him while overlooking the City of Light from a platform of the Eiffel Tower. In the Spring of 2011, Deloria said “I do” to her long-time beau. The couple married in a Greensboro service presided over by a Presbyterian minister friend, and the late “Father Bill” Neenan, a longtime family friend. This time, Deloria baked hundreds of her signature cookies featuring wedding bells, wedding cakes and Eiffel Towers as gifts for their guests — and in a fully functioning kitchen. The new couple started married life with a freshly madeThe Art & Soul of Greensboro

over bungalow. Always artistic and resourceful, Deloria sketched out and designed a full-house renovation. Local contractor Andrew Clement overhauled the 1,500-square-foot upper floor and even the full basement below. Downstairs they gained space for a den, storage and new laundry center after making the walk-in basement waterproof and fully livable by installing French drains. Today, her father’s chandelier presides in the dining area, its companion, a carved vintage oak dining set that Deloria’s parents once owned . . . which she carefully stripped and restored. The house is filled with the original art and pottery that Deloria and Austin so love. The oak floors, masked beneath tatty carpet when Deloria first walked through with a realtor, are in nearly perfect condition and gleam as if new. They were matched as closely as possible for the new kitchen. The Art & Soul of Greensboro

That room was the most ambitious and transformative part of the renovation. For a couple who likes to entertain, nearly 75 percent of the house was gutted to open the house for more functionality. With the kitchen opened — replete with black granite counters, cherry cabinetry with a Craftsman look and an additional bar sink — Deloria and Austin opted to extend the back. They added a new two-level deck with expansive windows overlooking the back yard and a French door for additional light. The deck opened up the living space and provides needed room for year-round entertaining. Two baths were redone, in a sympathetic period style with white subway tile and small tile floors. The master bedroom, which was added, has a beamed, vaulted ceiling. The master bath features a soaking tub. “It does feel like home,” Deloria says. November 2015

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Ten years on, the couple has hired an architect to design a second-floor addition to be built this fall. It will nearly double the square footage, and give them extra guest rooms, baths and office space. They have a much larger master bedroom planned for upstairs and a walk-in shower in the master bath. There is even more exterior porch area. Deloria’s plans for the integration of the addition centers on a special staircase design, a collaboration with family members, who’ll reap its benefits when they visit from their various out-of-town locales. With their mutual successes, Deloria and Austin could have opted to move to Irving Park, where they like to play golf at Greensboro Country Club. But there was the allure of downtown, especially those Grasshopper games. Yet the real reason for the ambitious addition and staying put is probably love of place and neighborhood that surpasses affection for the house. “We love the neighbors,” Deloria says. Whenever the couple travels, Manny and Laura Rodrigues keep close watch. The younger couple is like extended family, often drifting across the street for a porch chat and glass of wine or a good cigar. And the “family” is growing: A single woman has moved into a house across the street, Deloria notes with a smile. She sees herself mirrored; her own past coming full circle. “We’ll try and pay it forward, and give her the reception the neighborhood gave me,” she reflects. They will be good neighbors, the kind that look out for one another and invite folks for a sit on the porch. OH Cynthia Adams is a contributing editor to O.Henry.

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Paul J. Ciener

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By Rosetta Fawley

For a Spellbinding Garden

“If it is true that one of the greatest pleasures of gardening lies in looking forward, then the planning of next year’s beds and borders must be one of the most agreeable occupations in the gardener’s calendar. This should make October and November particularly pleasant months, for then we may begin to clear our borders, to cut down those sodden and untidy stalks, to dig up and increase our plants, and to move them to other positions where they will show up to greater effect. People who are not gardeners always say that the bare beds of winter are uninteresting; gardeners know better, and take even a certain pleasure in the neatness of the newly dug, bare, brown earth.” — Vita Sackville-West

If you haven’t done it already, it’s time to pull the winter gardening regalia out of the attic. Patch up holes, test your boots and make sure the moths haven’t gotten hold of your hats and scarves. Put anything that needs replacing on your list for Santa, along with seeds for winter planting and bulb orders for spring. This is a good time to reflect on the garden of the summer just past, and to plan for the forthcoming seasons. Seek inspiration in the natural world. It may seem as though everything’s going into winter hibernation, but you don’t have to resort to the hothouse. Take a walk in the woods. Something magical may happen. Across those wide wintry vistas, all bare branches and foxy leaf carpets, you may come across the yellow flowers of the witch hazel. Breathe in their spicy fragrance. Yes, the American Witch Hazel (Hamamelis virginiana) blooms in fall and early winter. The shrub is said to have been named by European settlers, who saw Native Americans using its branches to divine for water. The “witch” may be a corruption of “wych,” from the Anglo-Saxon meaning to bend, as the branch was said to do near water. To the Almanac, there’s something witchy about finding flowers so late in the year. It’s as though the tree has been enchanted. If you want to add fall-flowering witch hazel to your garden the birds will thank you; they love the fruit that pops from the shrub in the winter months. Witch hazel prefers partial shade and moist, rich soil – keep in mind its natural woodsy environment. This is where your mulch comes in. But it is tolerant of poorer soils and even pollution, as long as it doesn’t get too dry. Best planted in late winter to spring, it will grow to around 8 by 12 feet. The topical astringent extracted from the bark and leaves of the tree can be used to treat poison oak and poison ivy rashes, bruises and varicose veins, among a host of other ills. It is antioxidant and antiinflammatory. Some use it to clean their dogs’ ears and cool hot spots. You see, it really is magic.

Rose hip November Autumn I’ll remember Gold landing at our door Catch one leaf and fortune will surround you evermore From Rose Hip November by Vashti Bunyan

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

(Very) Old-Fashioned Gingerbread

“To make Gingerbread: Take Claret-wine, and put in sugar, and set it to the fire; then take wheat bread finely grafted and sifted, and Liquorice, Aniseeds, Ginger and Cinnamon beaten very small into powder. Mix your bread and your spice together, put them into the wine, and boil it, and stir it until it be very thick. Then mould it and print it at your pleasure, and let it stand in a place neither too moist nor too warm.” From The English Housewife, by Gervase Markham, 1615

Food for Fall

Take a look at what’s growing in the vegetable garden this month. It’s a perfect seasonal salad. Beets, spinach, turnips, late lettuce and snow peas will be clean and crunchy, the beets giving just a hint of sweetness. Thinly slice the raw turnips for some peppery heat. Pecans are coming in now too. Chop them finely and scatter over the top for a richer flavor. Crumbled blue cheese may not go amiss either, but that might be too much. You decide. Dress with vinaigrette and a little salt and black pepper. And if that salad sounds just a tiny bit too virtuous for winter, leave out the pecans. Save them for a big ol’ pie instead.

And an OldFashioned Cocktail

For a holiday apéritif, here’s an oldfashioned recipe for an Old Fashioned: 1 lump of sugar 2 dashes Angostura bitters 2 oz rye whiskey 1 slice of lemon peel 1 slice of orange Dissolve the sugar in the Angostura, pour the solution into an Old Fashioned glass over large ice cubes. Add the rye whiskey, garnish with the lemon peel and orange slice. Stir well and drink with good cheer, thinking of Fred Astaire and Rita Hayworth. November 2015

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November 2015 Día de los Muertos



Ingleside Garden Club



November 1

Day of the Dead (Día de los Muertos) celebration (11/1), with live entertainment, a food truck and altars constructed by local community organizations and artists representing Latin American cultures; the altars will remain on display on 11/2, beginning at 1 p.m. Greensboro Children’s Museum, 220 North Church Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 574-2898 or gcmuseum.com.

PHIL ’ER UP! 3 p.m. Before the Perret passes by — Conductor Peter Perret — catch his baton leading Greensboro Philharmonia with special guest, the Danville Symphony. Dana Auditorium, Guilford College, 5800 West Friendly Avenue, Greensboro. Info: (336) 3732026 or city-arts.org.

November 1–8

ARMY AUNTS. 2 p.m. Two sweet old sisters have a lethal habit, causing major headaches for their nephew. See Cary Grant’s comedic talent at its best in Frank Capra’s Arsenic and Old Lace (1944). Open Space Café Theatre, Carolina Theatre, 310 South Greene Street, Greensboro. Tickets: (336) 333-2605 or carolinatheatre.com.

AUTHOR, AUTHOR. 3 p.m. Meet Miriam Herin, author of A Stone for Bread. Scuppernong Books, 304 South Elm Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com.

November 1 & 2

GON E BUT NOT FORGOTTEN. 6 p.m. Send greetings to the “other side” at Casa Azul’s

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PLAYWRIGHT WRONGED. It’s a game of cat-and-mouse between a plagiarizing playwright and his protégé in Triad Stage’s production of Deathtrap. Performance times vary. The Pyrle, 232 South Elm Street. Tickets: (336) 272-0160 or triadstage.org.

November 1–10

MINIATURISTS. Science becomes art, with works portraying life at molecular and atomic levels. Greenhill, 200 North Davie Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 333-7460 or greenhillnc.org.




November 1–11

WORTH WHILE. See the Chinese influence in Lauren Jones Worth’s vivid paintings of birds, butterflies, fish and landscapes at Alight at Tyler White. Tyler White O’Brien Gallery, 307 State Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 279-1124 or tylerwhitegallery.com.

November 1–14

’TOON-UP. Catch the works of four area cartoonists, including O.Henry’s own Harry Blair at You Can’t Be Serious: Making Fun for a Living. Cowan Humanities Building, Greensboro College, 815 West Market Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 272-7102 or greensboro.edu.

November 1–25

BATTLE SKIES. See award-winning aerial combat photos by retired Air Force Staff Sgt. Stacy Pearsall, taken during three of her four tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan at Stacy Pearsall: A Picture of Courage. High Point Museum, 1859 East Lexington Avenue, High Point. Info: (336) 885-1859 or highpointmuseum.org. The Art & Soul of Greensboro

November Arts Calendar

November 1–29

QUEEN MAUD. Going, going Gonne: The exhibition of works by UNCG alum Maud Gatewood, Remembering Maud: A Selection of Her Paintings, winds up its run. Weatherspoon Art Museum, 500 Tate Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 334-5770 or weatherspoon.uncg.edu. FOCAL POINTS. Video and new media form the basis of Peter Campus: Shiva – Falk Visiting Artist. Weatherspoon Art Museum, 500 Tate Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 334-5770 or weatherspoon.uncg.edu.

H.P.F.D. at Fired Up: A Look Back at Organized Firefighting in High Point. High Point Museum, 1859 East Lexington Avenue, High Point. Info: (336) 885-1859 or highpointmuseum.org.

cheese social. Various packages available. High Point Regional Visitors Center, 1634 North Main Street, Suite 102, High Point. To purchase: (336) 884-5255 or highpoint.org.

November 2

November 5

November 3

À LA FRANÇAISE. 6 until 8 p.m. Just say “oui,” to an Adult Cooking Class, in which Chef Reto of Reto’s Kitchen teaches the basics of French cuisine — omelets, poached eggs and, the pièce de résistance, chocolate soufflé. Greensboro Children’s Museum, 220 North Church Street, Greensboro. To register: (336) 574-2898 ext. 317 or gcmuseum.com.

ON RECORD. 6:30 p.m. Learn about the value and availability of birth, marriage, divorce and death records in N.C. for researching your family genealogy. High Point Library, 901 North Main Street, High Point. Info: ncroom@ highpointnc.gov.

NOLA NO MORE. Don’t miss the haunting photographs of New Orleans by Chapel Hill photographer John Rosenthal, author of After: The Silence of the Lower 9th Ward. Scuppernong Books, 304 South Elm Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com.

ECHOES OF ELVIS. 7 p.m. The documentary Orion: The Man Who Would Be King tells the bizarre story of a masked singer who, under the name Orion, posed as the reincarnation of Elvis Presley in the years following the rock star’s death. Carolina Theatre, 310 South Greene Street, Greensboro. Tickets: (336) 333-2605 or carolinatheatre.com.

November 1–January 3, 2016

November 4

November 1–30

POSIES AND PAINTINGS. Go for the grow at The Artist’s Garden: American Impressionism and the Garden Movement, 1887–1920. Reynolda House Museum of American Art, 5800 Reynolda Road, Winston-Salem. Info: (888) 663-1149 or reynoldahouse.org.

November 1–January 16, 2016

POP AND FRESH. The commercial and the everyday, inspiring? See how at Pop Art: 20thCentury Popular Culture as Muse. Weatherspoon Art Museum, 500 Tate Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 334-5770 or weatherspoon.uncg.edu.

November 1–April 30, 2016

HOSED. Uniforms, photos and memorabilia commemorate the 125th anniversary of the

AUTHOR, AUTHOR. 7 p.m. Meet Laura Hart McKinny, author of Men Against Women. Scuppernong Books, 304 South Elm Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com. AMPED UP. 8 p.m. Jamtronic band Papadosio brings its “Extras in a Movie” Tour to town. Cone Denim Entertainment Center, 117 South Elm Street, Greensboro. Tickets: (800) 745-3000 or ticketmaster.com.

November 4–6

THE SHOWROOM MUST GO ON. Through “Furnish Your World,” you can sneak a peek at furnisher showrooms, otherwise open only to industry professionals, and shop for furniture with a designer, enjoy lunch and a wine-and-

BEE-WITCHED. Noon. George Page and Bill Bodsford give the buzz on beekeeping at November’s Lunch and Learn. Paul Ciener Botanical Garden, 215 South Main Street, Kernersville. To register: (336) 996-7888 or cienerbotanicalgarden.org.

TREKKIE. 6:30 p.m. Filmmaker Chris Galloway takes his own walk along the Appalachian Trail in his documentary A Long Start to the Journey, part of the One City One Book initiative. Greensboro Public Library, 219 North Church Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 373-3617 or email beth.sheffield@greensboro-nc.gov. MUMBAI’S THE WORD. 7 p.m. Dancers and acrobats with Mystic India: The World Tour tell the story of India’s transition from feudal state to modern power player. Carolina Theatre, 310 South Greene Street, Greensboro. Tickets: (336) 333-2605 or carolinatheatre.com. HAIL, HAIL, THE ANG’S ALL HERE! 7:30 p.m. That would be Ang Li, piano virtuoso, who will perform with various members of Music Academy of North Carolina. High Point Theatre, 220 East Commerce Place, High Point. Tickets: (336) 887-3001 or highpointtheatre.com.

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December 2015

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November Arts Calendar November 5–7

ART MART. Check out — and buy — pottery and other works of fine art at Art Alliance’s Student Fall Art Show. Times vary. Greensboro Cultural Center, 200 North Davie Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 373-2725 or artalliancegso.org.

November 5–8

STREET ART. Touring Theatre of North Carolina presents Living Rough, an original work addressing the plight of Greensboro’s temporarily homeless citizens. Performance times vary. Crown at the Carolina Theatre, 310 South Greene Street, Greensboro. Tickets: (336) 3332605 or carolinatheatre.com.

November 6

TUTTLE THE TROUBADOUR. 6 until 9 p.m. Nashville success story and Winston-Salem native Chris Tuttle performs at First Friday. Greenhill, 200 North Davie Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 333-7460 or greenhillnc.org. BAND TOGETHER. 7:30 p.m. Hear the Greensboro Concert Band, with Evan Feldman

conducting. Dana Auditorium, Guilford College, 5800 West Friendly Avenue, Greensboro. Info: (336) 373-2026 or city-arts.org. GYRATE! 10 p.m. (Doors open at 8 p.m.) Let your soles move to Electric Soul Pandemic, a local band whose sound has been described as “raucous.” Blind Tiger, 1819 Spring Garden Street, Greensboro. Tickets: (336) 272-9888 or theblindtiger.com

November 6 & 7

CATBIRD SEAT. 10 a.m. until 1p.m.; 2 u ­ ntil 5 p.m. That would be the subject of Peek-A-Boo, this year’s personalized miniature print available at William Mangum Meet the Artist Open House. William Mangum Fine Art gallery, 2166 Lawndale Drive, Greensboro. Info: (336) 3799200 or williammangum.com. TRADITIONAL TUNES. 8:30 p.m. Continuing the One City One Book programming, Laurelyn Dossett and friends perform roots music reflecting Appalachian culture. Greensboro Historical Museum, 130 Summit Avenue, Greensboro. Info: (336) 373-3617 or email beth.sheffield@greensboro-nc.gov.

November 6–8

SHOPPING SPREE. Only forty-eight shopping days left! Tick off your gift list at Holiday Market, consisting of food, fashion, jewelry, decorations and an appearance by the Man in Red himself. Times vary. Tickets on sale at the door. Greensboro Coliseum, Special Events Center, 1921 West Gate City Boulevard, Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com. FIDDLE DEE FLEA. Antiques, vintage jewelry, collectibles . . . it can only be Super Flea Market. Times vary. Greensboro Coliseum, Pavilion, 1921 West Gate City Boulevard, Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com.

November 6–8; 12–15

GOOD GRIEF! Join the Peanuts gang at The Drama Center’s production of You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown. Performance times vary. Stephen D. Hyers Theatre, Greensboro Cultural Center, 200 North Davie Street, Greensboro. Tickets: (336) 335-2426 or greensboro-nc.gov.

November 7

HACHANAAL. Noon until 4 p.m. Attention

Food & Dining

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December 2015

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

scribes: Writing workshops by Chris Roerden, plus Jim and Joyce Lavene and others, are yours for free at the Book Festival for Local Authors. High Point Public Library, 901 North Main Street, High Point. Info: (336) 883-3650 or highpointpubliclibrary.com. LOCAL VOCALS. 7:30 p.m. Conductor Jon Brotherton leads the Choral Society of Greensboro. Christ United Methodist Church, 410 North Holden Road, Greensboro. Info: (336) 373-2026 or greensboro-nc.gov.

November 7 & 14

IRONSIDES. 10 a.m. until 4 p.m. He ain’t heavy — though his medium is — he’s our brother . . . the blacksmith! High Point Museum, 1859 East Lexington Avenue, High Point. Info: (336) 885-1859 or highpointmuseum.org.

November 8

AUTHOR, AUTHOR. 3 p.m. Meet poet Gibbons Ruark, author of The Road to Ballyvaughan. Scuppernong Books, 304 South Elm Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com.

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

November Arts Calendar MUNCH FEST. Noon until 4 p.m. Round up the family and bring your appetite to the N.C. Food Rodeo, with the state’s best food trucks, craft beers, wine. Grove Winery, 7360 Brooks Bridge Road, Gibsonville. Info: www.grovewinery.com.

November 9

NATIVE INTELLIGENCE. 4 p.m. Biology prof Bob Gatten leads a discussion about Timothy Egan’s biography of a chronicler of American Indians, Short Life of the Shadow Catcher: The Epic Life and Immortal Photographs of Edward Curtis. UNCG, Jackson Library, Greensboro. To register: library.uncg.edu/giving/friends_of_ the_libraries/Register.aspx.

November 11

VET PROFITS. 9 a.m. until Noon. Veterans are invited to indulge in a sweet treat, gratis, and share stories of training in the armory-turnedmarket. Greensboro Farmers Curb Market, 501 Yanceyville Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 3732402 or gsofarmersmarket.org.

GREEN GROW THE RUSHES HO (HO, HO). 10 a.m. Ingleside Garden Club presents “Seasonal Holiday Decorations,” featuring the handiwork of Stacy Curtis of the Farmer’s Wife. Greensboro Council of Garden Clubs Headquarters, 4301-A Lawndale Drive, Greensboro. Info: (336) 282-4940 or thegreensborocouncilofgardenclubs.com.

November 12–15

THREE PLENTY OPERAS. Catch three short operas — The Old Maid and the Thief, by GianCarlo Menotti; Savitri, by Gustav Holst; and Carlisle Floyd’s Slow Dusk — in one show, courtesy of UNCG Opera Theatre. Times vary. Aycock Auditorium, 408 Tate Street, Greensboro. Tickets: (336) 272-0160 or performingarts.uncg.edu.

November 13

AUTHOR, AUTHOR. 7 p.m. Meet Tracy Crow, author of On Point. Scuppernong Books, 304 South Elm Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com.

December 2015

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11:37 AM















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December 2015

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The Art & Soul of Greensboro

December 2015

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November Arts Calendar ROTSA RUV. 8 p.m. Kem one, Kem all to hear, well, Motown artist Kem, who brings his “Promise to Love” Tour to town. Special Events Center, Greensboro Coliseum, 2921 West Gate City Boulevard, Greensboro. Tickets: (800) 7453000 or ticketmaster.com. GOOD SKATES. 7:30 p.m. Olympic skating champs Brian Boitano, Meryl Davis and Charlie White jump, spin and glide to the live sounds of Grammy-Award-winner Train at the Pandora Holiday Celebrations on Ice. Greensboro Coliseum, 1921 West Lee Street, Greensboro. Tickets: (800) 745-3000 or ticketmaster.com.

November 13 & 20

TACO TUTORIAL. 5:30 p.m. Tweens (on 11/13) and teens (11/20) learn how to make, stuff — and most important — eat tacos at “Taco Time” cooking classes. Greensboro Children’s Museum, 220 North Church Street, Greensboro. To register: (336) 574-2898 ext. 317 or gcmuseum.com.

November 13–22

UP-BRAIDED. That would be she of the two horizontal red braids and the irrepressible

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December 2015

nature. The North Carolina Theatre for Young People at UNCG promises good times and laughs in its production of Pippi Longstocking. Performance times vary. Taylor Theatre, 406 Tate Street, Greensboro. Tickets: (336) 272-0160 or performingarts.uncg.edu.

November 14

ESPRIT DE CORE. 8 a.m. until Noon. Line up for apple pancakes, apple tastings from Leonard Orchards, apple pie, apple butter and more while live music plays at . . . where else? Apple Pancake and Celebration Day. Greensboro Farmer’s Curb Market, 501 Yanceyville Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 373-2402 or gsofarmersmarket.org. SCRIBES' SCENES. 3p.m. Hear various authors talk about their contributions to 27 Views of Greensboro: The Gate City in Prose & Poetry — better yet, read selections by O.Henry's own Jim Dodson, Maria Johnson and Jim Schlosser. Greensboro Historical Museum, 130 Summit Avenue, Greensboro. Info: (336) 373-2043 or greensborohistory.org AUTHOR, AUTHOR. 7 p.m. Meet writers Steph Post, Aubrie Cox, Jim Warner and Beth Gilstrap. Scuppernong Books, 304 South Elm Street,

Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com. BLUESY. 8:30 p.m. Hear some funk-inflected blues from the Big Easy band and Grammy nominee Blind Dog Smokin’ — with guest artists Bobby Rush and Dr. John. High Point Theatre, 220 East Commerce Place, High Point. Tickets: (336) 887-3001 or highpointtheatre.com. MERE MORTALS. 7:30 p.m. Hear Dead & Company featuring the, er, remains of the Grateful Dead, Mickey Hart, Bill Kreutzman and Bob Weir — because Jerry would want ’em to keep on truckin’. Greensboro Coliseum, 1921 West Gate City Boulevard, Greensboro. Tickets: (800) 745-3000 or ticketmaster.com.

November 14–22

WIZARDRY. Follow the Yellow Brick Road to Community Theatre of Greensboro’s annual production of The Wizard of Oz. Performance days and times vary. Community Theatre of Greensboro, 520 South Elm Street, Greensboro. Tickets: (336) 333-7469, ext. 202 or ctgso.org.

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Arts & Culture

Wednesday - Saturday, 10 a.m. - 8 p.m. Sunday, 10 a.m. - 4 p.m. Admission by any monetary donation at the door

Special Festival Events

Festival Tree Lighting Wednesday, 10:15 a.m.

Friday, November 20th, 6-8pm Exhibit runs until Jan. 1st

Jingle Bell Jam Friday, 6 - 8 p.m. Live music with Tom Compa

Annual Holiday Show

“Beside Ourselves” by Sue Webb Tregay


Exhibit runs until Jan. 1st

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Bacco Selections Wine Tasting Saturday, 6 - 8 p.m. $10 for Tasting Glass Festival Marketplace Sunday, 10 a.m. - 4 p.m. Enjoy Holiday shopping with a variety of artisans and vendors!

Friday, November 20th with Musical Talent Fredd Reyes

Girls’ Night Out Wednesday, 6 - 8 p.m. McKenzie Brothers Band

Fine Art & one of a kind gifts for all your holiday shopping!

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November Arts Calendar November 15

KRAFTWERK. 11 a.m. until 4 p.m. Get a jump on your Christmas shopping at Made 4 the Holidays, the area’s largest all-local show of art, crafts and pottery. Greensboro Farmers Curb Market, 501 Yanceyville Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 373-2402 or gsofarmersmarket.org. AUTHOR, AUTHOR. 3 p.m. Meet poets Michael White (Travels in Vermeer) and Stuart Dischell (Dig Safe). Scuppernong Books, 304 South Elm Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 7631919 or scuppernongbooks.com.

November 17

REGAL ROBIN. 7 p.m. Before she became House of Cards’ ice queen Claire Underwood, Robin Wright played Buttercup in the 1987 comic fantasy The Princess Bride. Carolina Theatre, 310 South Greene Street, Greensboro. Tickets: 336) 333-2605 or carolinatheatre.com. AUTHOR, AUTHOR. 7 p.m. Meet writer Bland Simpson and photographer Ann Carry Simpson, authors of Little Rivers and Waterway

Arts & Culture

100 O.Henry

Tales. Scuppernong Books, 304 South Elm Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com.

November 19

PREZ-ENTATION. 7:30 p.m. Presidential historian Jon Meacham takes to the podium to discuss the office of POTUS, as a part of the Bryan Series. Greensboro Coliseum, 1921 West Gate City Boulevard, Greensboro. Tickets: (800) 745-3000 or ticketmaster.com.

November 20

RATTA-TA-TATTA-TA. 7:30 p.m. Greensboro Percussion Ensembles delivers some beats with Mike Lasley conducting. Trinity Church, 5200 West Friendly Avenue, Greensboro. (New and unwrapped toys will be collected for FOX8’s Gifts for Kids program). Info: (336) 373-2026 or greensboro-nc.gov. MIPSO ACT-O. 8 p.m. In case you missed their recent gigs in the Triad, they’re back: N.C. newgrass band Mipso. High Point Theatre, 220 East Commerce Street, High Point. Tickets: (336) 8887-3001 or highpointtheatre.com.

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SPIRITED SPIRITUS. 10 p.m. (doors open at 8 p.m.) Horns and jangling guitars characterize popular N.C. band Holy Ghost Tent Revival. Hear ’em and be moved. Blind Tiger, 1819 Spring Garden Street, Greensboro. Tickets: (336) 272-9888 or theblindtiger.com.

November 20–22

DINO-MIGHT! Marvel at animatronic models of T-Rex and friends in life-sized dioramas at Discover the Dinosaurs. Times vary. Greensboro Coliseum, Special Events Center, 1921 West Gate City Boulevard, Greensboro. Tickets: discoverthedinosaurs.com.

November 21

SMOKE GETS IN YOUR EYES. 10 a.m. until 4 p.m. Costumed interpreters host an openhearth cooking demonstration. Hoggat House, High Point Museum, 1859 East Lexington Avenue, High Point. Info: (336) 885-1859 or highpointmuseum.org. DIWALI WORLD. 6 p.m. Who’s sari now? Celebrate the season of lights at the India Association of the Triad Diwali Festival. Greensboro Coliseum, Special Events Center, 1921 West Gate City Boulevard, Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com.

State Street

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The Art & Soul of Greensboro

December 2015

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November Arts Calendar

Brownlee. Scuppernong Books, 304 South Elm Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com.

CAN’T YOU SEE? 7 p.m. If not, hear it in a love song, among others, from 1970s folk rockers Marshall Tucker Band. Cone Denim Entertainment Center. 117 South Elm Street, Greensboro. Tickets: (800) 745-3000 or ticketmaster.com.

November 25

HEAD BANGERS’ HOLIDAY. 3 p.m. and 8 p.m. Big hair and smoke machines rule this Yule as Trans-Siberian Orchestra performs the rock opera, “The Ghosts of Christmas Eve.” Greensboro Coliseum, 1921 West Gate City Boulevard, Greensboro. Tickets: (800)-745-3000 or ticketmaster.com.

November 21–22

CRAFT-TIME SHOW. 10 a.m. until 6 p.m.; noon until 5 p.m., respectively. Paintings, pots, prints . . . Piedmont Craftsmen Crafts Fair has it all. Benton Convention Center, 301 West Fifth Street, Winston-Salem. Info: piedmontcraftsmen.org.

November 22

AUTHOR, AUTHOR. 3 p.m. Meet poets Dorianne Laux, Joseph Millar and J. Scott

CHOW COUNTDOWN. 8 a.m.until 1 p.m. Pick up any last-minute Thanksgiving sides (with the exception of Jell-O salad), desserts, flowers or hostess gifts. Greensboro Farmers Curb Market, 501 Yanceyville Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 373-2402 or gsofarmersmarket.org.

November 27–29

AND SO IT BEGINS. Is that the jingle of sleigh bells you hear? Or the jingle of a cash register — or both? Kick off Black Friday weekend at the Craftsman’s Christmas Classic Art & Craft Festival. Times vary. Greensboro Coliseum, Special Events Center, 1921 West Gate City Boulevard, Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com.

November 27–December 24

STARMOUNT(AIN). The Christmas story takes a down-home turn in Beautiful Star: An Appalachian Nativity, an original production of Triad Stage. Performance times vary. The Pyrle, 232 South Elm Street, Greensboro. Tickets:

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AUTHOR, AUTHOR. 3 p.m. Meet photographer Ken Abbott, who will be signing copies of his book, Useful Work: Photographs of Hickory Nut Gap Farm. Scuppernong Books, 304 South Elm Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com.


BUZZING. 10 a.m. Your busy little bees engage in a Busy Bees preschool program focusing on music, movement, garden exploration and fun in the kitchen, at the Greensboro Children’s Museum, 220 North Church Street, Greensboro. Preregistration: (336) 574-2898 or gcmuseum.com.

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EBENEZER CROWD-PLEASER. The gang’s all here: Ebenezer Scrooge, Bob Cratchit, Tiny Tim and ghosts. Triad Stage presents Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. Performance times vary. Hanesbrands Theatre, 209 North Spruce Street, Winston-Salem. Tickets: (336) 272-0160 or triadstage.org.

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November Arts Calendar TALK IS CHEAP. Noon. Apprenez l’art de la conversation française. Pardon our French and join French Table, a conversation group. Scuppernong Books, 304 South Elm Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com.


READ ALL ABOUT IT. Treat your little ones to storytimes: BookWorms (ages 12–24 months) meets at 10 a.m.; Time for Twos meets at 11 a.m. Storyroom; Family Storytime for all ages meets at 6:30 p.m. High Point Public Library, 901 North Main Street, High Point. Info: (336) 8833666 or highpointpubliclibrary.com. FARMERS IN THE DELL. 11 a.m. Or Edible Schoolyard. Its classes for tykes ages 3–5 years includes: Super Seeds (11/3) and Lovely Leaves (11/10). Greensboro Children’s Museum, 220 North Church Street, Greensboro. To register: (336) 574-2898 or gsoedibleschoolyard.wordpress.com/classes/.

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STORY CORPS. 11 a.m. Book a slot in your sked for Children’s Storytime. Scuppernong Books, 304 South Elm Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 763-1919 or scuppernongbooks.com. PICKIN’ AND GRINNIN’. 6 until 9 p.m. Y’all come for Songs from a Southern Kitchen featuring Kelley Hunt (11/3); Laurelyn Dossett, Scott Manring and Alex McKinney (11/10); Laurelyn Dossett, Scott Manring, Alex McKinney and special guests (11/17); and Martha Bassett, Pat Lawrence and Sam Frazier (11/24) — live music at Lucky 32 Southern Kitchen, 1421 Westover Terrace, Greensboro. Info: (336) 370-0707 or lucky32.com/greensboro_music.htm.


TO MARKET, TO MARKET. 8 a.m. until 1 p.m. Get fresh with locally grown produce, cakes, pies and cut fleurs for a pretty table at the Mid Week Market. Greensboro Farmers Curb Market, 501 Yanceyville Street, Greensboro. Info: gsofarmersmarket.org.

State Street

MUSSELS, WINE & MUSIC. 7 until 10 p.m. Mussels with house-cut fries for $15, wines from $10–15 a bottle and live music by Evan Olson and Jessica Mashburn — at Print Works Bistro, 702 Green Valley Road, Greensboro. Info: (336) 379-0699 or printworksbistro.com/live_music.htm. ONCE UPON A TIME. 2 p.m. Preschool Storytime I convenes for children ages 3–5. Storyroom, High Point Public Library, 901 North Main Street, High Point. Info: (336) 8833666 or highpointpubliclibrary.com.


TWICE UPON A TIME. 11 a.m. Preschool Storytime II convenes for children ages 3–­5. Storyroom, High Point Public Library, 901 North Main Street, High Point. Info: (336) 8833666 or highpointpubliclibrary.com. ALL THAT JAZZ. 5:30 until 8 p.m. Hear live, local jazz featuring Neill Clegg and special guests in the O. Henry Hotel Social Lobby Bar: Diana Tuffin with Neill Clegg and Dave Fox (11/5); Nishah DiMeo, guest saxophonist Chad Eby

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November Arts Calendar and Dave Fox (11/12); Evan Olsen with Neill Clegg and Dave Fox (11/15). No cover. 624 Green Valley Road, Greensboro. Info: (336) 8542000 or www.ohenryhotel.com/jazz.htm.

admission is only $2. Greensboro Children’s Museum, 220 North Church Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 574-2898 or gcmuseum.com.

JAZZ NIGHT. 7 p.m. Fresh-ground, freshbrewed coffee is served with a side of jazz at Tate Street Coffee House, 334 Tate Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 275-2754 or tatestreetcoffeehouse.com. OPEN MIC COMEDY. 8–9:35 p.m. Local pros and amateurs take the mic at the Idiot Box, 348 South Elm Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 274-2699 or idiotboxers.com.

NIGHTMARES ON ELM STREET. 8 p.m. A 90-minute, historical, candlelit ghost walking tour of Downtown Greensboro. Tickets: (336) 905-4060 or carolinahistoryandhaunts. com/information.


CAFÉ DES ARTISTES. For $6 per person, Masterpiece Friday offers kids a chance to create papier mâché pigs (11/13) and polar bear masks (11/20). Greenhill, 200 North Davie Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 333-7460 or greenhillnc.org. THE HALF OF IT. 5 p.m. Enjoy the hands-on exhibits and activities for half the cost of admission at $4 Fun Fridays. On First Friday (11/6),

Fridays & Saturdays


TO MARKET, TO MARKET. 7 a.m. until noon. The produce is still fresh and the cut fleurs still belles. Greensboro Farmers Curb Market, 501 Yanceyville Street, Greensboro. Info: gsofarmersmarket.org. MORE JAZZ. 6:30–9:30 p.m. Kick back to the sounds of the Jazz Nomads, featuring Randy Craven and Sheila Duell (11/14), and Diana Tuffin (11/28), part of the O. Henry Jazz Series on select Saturdays. O. Henry Hotel Social Lobby, 624 Green Valley Road, Greensboro. Info: (336) 854-2000 or ohenryhotel.com.

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IMPROV COMEDY. 10 p.m. on Saturday, plus an 8 p.m. show appropriate for the whole family. The Idiot Boxers create scenes on the spot and build upon the ideas of others, creating shows that are one-of-a-kind — at the Idiot Box, 348 South Elm Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 2742699 or idiotboxers.com.


HALF FOR HALF-PINTS. 1 p.m. And grownups, too. A $4 admission, as opposed to the usual $8, will allow you entry to exhibits and more. Greensboro Children’s Museum, 220 North Church Street, Greensboro. Info: (336) 574-2898 or gcmuseum.com. MISSING YOUR GRANDMA? 3 p.m. until it’s gone. Tuck into Chef Felicia’s skillet-fried chicken, fried in lard, of course, and served with giblet gravy. Lucky 32 Southern Kitchen, 1421 Westover Terrace, Greensboro. Info: (336) 3700707 or lucky32.com/fried_chicken.htm. To add an event, email us at ohenrymagcalendar@ gmail.com by the first of the month prior to the event

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O.Henry 105

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December 2015

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MAGAZINE O.Henry magazine is a complimentary publication supported by our advertisers. Please consider patronizing these businesses, services and nonprofit organizations and tell them that you saw their ad in O.Henry magazine. A Shade Better 38 About Face Cosmetics & Day Spa 119 Airlie Gardens Foundation 100 AL Holliday Estate Sales 118 Alla D’Salon 107 Allen Tate Realtors IBC Area Modern Home 116 Artios 91 Aubrey Home 105 Autumn Creek Vineyards 104 Badaxe Boutique 93 Barber Center for Plastic Surgery 18 Bardy’s Estate Jewelry 50 Bel Canto 97 Berkshire Hathaway HomeServices, Yost & Little Realty IFC Blockade Runner 17 Brixx Pizza 94 Burkely Rental Homes 107 Canterbury School 120 Careful With The China 48 Carlisle 88 Carolina Bank BC Carolina GroutWorks 103 Carolina Vein Specialists 24 Carolyn Todd’s Fine Gifts & Clothing 108 Carriage House Antiques & Home Decor 102 Chakra’s Salon & Spa 32 Chateau Morrisette Winery & Restaurant 104 Cheesecakes by Alex 116 City of Greensboro 57 Cone Health 4 Contemporary Lady, The 88 Country Kennels 55 Crafted, The Art of Street Food 114 Crafted, The Art of the Taco 114 Crutchfield & Associates Advertising 36 Dan Suits U 90 Deep Roots 113 Diane Thompson, Allen Tate Realty 25 Diva’s Bridal & Boutique 55 Dog Days 113 Dolce Dimora 50 Downtown Greensboro Animal Hospital 115 Dress Code 107 Du Jour Fashion 121 Earnhardt Optical 110 Elizabeth Pell, Tyler Redhead & McAlister Real Estate 95 Extra Ingredient, The 106 Feathered Nest, The 108 Fentress Jewelry 126 Ferguson Bath, Kitchen & Lighting Gallery 2 First Baptist Church 121 Friendly Pharmacy 106 Friends Home West 36 Gibsonville Antiques 118 Glass & Stone 91 Goodwill 55 Graham Farless, DDS, Family, Cosmetic & Implant Dentisty 42 Great Outdoor Provision Company 106 GreenHill Center, A Space for NC Art 16 GreenHill Center, The Shop 96 Greensboro College 28 Greensboro Farmers Curb Market 106 Greensboro Historical Museum 43 Greensboro Imaging 22 Greensboro Montessori School 120 Greensboro Orthopaedics, Dr. Matthew Olin 8 Green Valley Grill 10 Guilford Medical Supply 88 HAJOCA 54 HealthTeam Advantage 20 Hearing Solutions 54 High Point Bank 9 Home Instead 55 Homewatch CareGivers 103 Hospice and Palliative Care of Greensboro 58 House of Eyes 38 Imperial Koi 98 Irvin Orthodontics 52 Irving Park Art & Frame 101 Jules Antiques 101 Just Be 115 Katie Redhead, Tyler Redhead McAlister Real Estate 3 Kay Chesnutt, Berkshire Hathaway HomeServices, Yost & Little Realty 125 Kelli Kupiec, Tyler Redhead McAlister Real Estate 91 Kim Mathis, Allen Tate Realtors 122

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November 2015

Koshary 112 Kriegsman, The Luxury Outerwear Store 45 LaRue Restaurant 113 Laura Redd Interiors 95 Lillo Bella 110 Linnea’s Boutique & Vera’s Threads 102 Local Honey 116 Lucky 32 Southern Kitchen 10 Madcap Cottage 46 Marion Tile & Flooring 90 Mark Brande, Berkshire Hathaway HomeServices, Yost & Little Realty 90 Mechelle’s 115 Melissa Greer, Berkshire Hathaway HomeServices, Yost & Little Realty 32 Melt Kitchen & Bar 94 Meridith Martens 125 Merle Norman 95 Michelle Porter, Berkshire Hathaway HomeServices, Yost & Little Realty 91 Mike Axsom 126 New Garden Landscaping & Nursery 125 Old North State Trust 59 Old Salem Museums & Gardens 30 Oriental Treasures Rug Gallery 48 Oscar Ogelthorpe Eyewear 117 Out of Hand 119 Party Chick & Paper 109 Patterson Carpets 90 Paul J. Ciener Botanical Gardens 88 Penland Custom Frames 112 Pest Management Systems, Inc. 122 Piedmont Craftsmen 97 Piedmont School, The 120 Pinehurst Resort 5 Polliwogs Children’s Boutique 108 Potbelly Sandwich Shop 12 Preston Young, Tyler Redhead & McAlister Real Estate 91 Priba Furniture 40 Printer’s Alley 52 Printworks Bistro 10 PTI 19 126 Purgason’s Western Wear • Equestrian Gear Radiance Yoga Studio & Boutique 109 Randy McManus Designs 50 Re-Bath of Greensboro 44 Realigned 116 Rennaissance Center for Cosmetic Surgery & Wellness 111 Reto’s Kitchen & Catering 44 Ruff Housing 122 Saint Mary’s School 40 Salem Academy 96 Sandhills Children’s Center 99 Schell Bray PLLC Attorneys & Counselors at Law 43 Schiffman’s 1 Scuppernong 115 Serendipity by Celeste 108 Sheree’s Natural Cosmetics 48 Simply Meg’s 105 Smith Marketing, Allen Tate Realtors 56 Sports Medicine & Joint Replacement 103 State Street Jewelers 110 Sweet Shop Bakery 115 Sweet Tea Studio 109 Talley Water 91 Taste of Thai 94 Ten Thousand Villages 48 The Burlington School 26 Theodore Alexander Outlet 59 Tom Chitty, Berkshire Hathaway HomeServices, Yost & Little Realty 29 Two Gentlemen Estate Sales 88 Tyler White O’Brien Gallery 99 UNCG Children’s Theatre 101 VCM Studio 99 View on Elm, The 7 Vivid Interiors 113 Waban Carter, Berkshire Hathaway HomeServices, Yost & Little Realty 90 Ward Black Law 13 Weatherspoon Art Gallery 97 Webster’s Import Service 107 Weezie Glasscock 46 46 Well•Spring Retirement Community Wheels 4 Hope 52 William Mangum Fine Art 60 Window Works Studio 122 Wine Styles 126 Yamamori, Ltd. 111

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The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Expecting company for the holidays?

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511 S Elm St. | Greensboro NC 27406 | 336.370.1050 areamod.com CBYA Fall Flavors OHENRY :Layout 1 10/14/15 2:31 PM Page 1

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226 S. ELM STREET GREENSBORO, NC 336 333 2993 OscarOglethorpe.com

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Nancy Edwards, Diane Swords

Dr. Chris & Amber Groat

New Physician and Physician Assistant Welcoming Social Greater Greensboro Society of Medicine and Alliance Thursday, October 8, 2015 Photographs by Anne Krishnan, Mollie Davenport, and Fábio Câmara Studios

Dr. Bill & Susan Veazey

Dr. Dan & Valerie Paterson

Dr. Mark & Marianne Anderson Dr. Alex Plotnikov, Rachel Lambert, Dr. Elizabeth Kollar, Sveta Krylova

Sara Nundkumar, Dr. Ashley Xu, Harsha Mirchandani-Samtani, Gay Bowman, Uma Avva, Darlene Young, Carissa Sumner, Anne Krishnan

Dr. Roy & Von Whitaker

Brent Loy, Stephen Replogle, Kaylah Bruechel, Diane Gaines, Vicki Gregory, Dr. Joshua Landau, Dr. Matt Martin

Dr. Joshua Landau, Judy Schanel, Randy Spivey, Gabe Roco, Dr. William Morgan

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November 2015

Dr. Ravi Avva, Dr. Kevin Ettefagh

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Worth The Drive to High Point Photograph courtesy of Piedmont Environmental Center

Flights of Fancy Feathers The early bird gets the worm, and if you’re an early bird on November 21st, you’ll get . . . early winter birds: white-throated sparrows, golden and ruby-crowned kinglets and winter wrens, to name a few. As one of the nature walks on Piedmont Environmental Center’s fall schedule, the outing begins at 7 a.m. sharp. (For you later birds, coffee, tea OJ and a choice of healthy breakfast snacks or doughnuts should be incentive enough to leave your warm nests.) Given that the walks attract serious birders and novices alike, PEC offers a tutorial on how to use binoculars —for instance, adjusting them to your eye and facial features. (If you don’t own a pair, no worries, PEC keeps some on hand — made by Eagle optics, of course.) More important, says the center’s director, Dick Thomas, “We teach what to look for when you see a bird and how to look.” He explains that the optimum way to observe our fine-feathered friends requires a bit of hand-to-eye coordination: Spot the bird with your naked eye, follow its outline and then raise

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

the binoculars to have a look. And when you do have a — ahem — gander, you’ll be amazed at the microcosm within a mere quarter- to half-mile from PEC’s building. Waterfowl, such as diving ducks, buffleheads, mergansers, great blue herons and, if you’re early enough, wood ducks congregate on the shores of nearby High Point City Lake. On the wooded trails you might hear the rapid fire pecking of a flicker or a downy woodpecker or the whinnying call of a pileated woodpecker, one of the largest and most striking birds on the continent. And then there are the rarer sights of northern birds, such as the restless ruby-crowned kinglet (See “Birdwatch” page 51) or its cousin the yellow-crowned kinglet, which, explains Thomas, “has a distribution that comes down the spine of our mountains; it’s not here in the Piedmont during nesting season.” Even rarer, he says, is the brown creeper. “The tropics have lots of varieties of creepers,” he notes, “But the brown creeper is the only one we have in North America.” As big a treat as it is to observe these communities of winged creatures, Thomas says the real reward is introducing birding to the uninitiated: “A lot of times when people have that first experience, they’re hooked.” OH A division of the City of High Point Parks & Recreation Department, Piedmont Environmental Center hosts various nature walks in the spring and fall. Register for early winter birding by November 20th or PEC’s next expedition, a kayak breakfast on Belews Lake (December 12th) by calling (336) 883-8531 or visiting www.highpointnc.gov/pr. - Nancy Oakley

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Challenging the Mind. Nourishing the Spirit. Canterbury School is a PreK-8 Episcopal day school. Call for a tour or join us for an open house: PreK and K informal coffee and tour, Oct. 20, 8:15-9:15 am PreK - 4th presentation and in-depth tour, Nov. 18, 9:30-11:30 am

EDUCATION FOR LIFE Enrolling children from the toddler years through the 8th grade.

www.thegms.org Accredited by the American Montessori Society and the Southern Association of Independent Schools

GMS 3.475 x 4.5 Ad r2.indd 1

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5400 Old Lake Jeanette Rd. Greensboro, NC 27455 336-288-2007 www.canterburygso.org

9/18/15 2:05 PM

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

GreenScene Say Yes Guilford Guilford, NC Thursday, September 17, 2015

Photographs by Lynn Donovan

Guilford County Schools Superintendent Maurice “Mo” Green with Millis Road Elementary students

Montlieu Academy of Technology Students Robert Pompey, Anita Bachmann

Hank Henning, Bill Bencini, Ann Busby, George Weiss

Gene Chasin, Felicia A ndrews

Russell Harper, Wanda Mobley

Rosalind Fuse-Hall, Lynn Wooten, Mildred Poole, Mona Edwards

Terri Shelton, Walker Sanders

… One Closet at a Time!

Insert Picture

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

November 2015

O.Henry 121

122 O.Henry

November 2015

The Art & Soul of Greensboro

GreenScene See to Believe Gala Greensboro Science Center

Friday, September 25, 2015

Photographs by Lynn Donovan Andrew Broom, Irene & Marc Jones

Ellen & Robert Worth, Erica Worth Eileen Lazorchick, Tyson Hammer

Kris & David Cooke

Kelly Tesh, Laurie & Billy Tesh, Patrick Thompson

Jen & Aaron Strasse

Whitt & Ruthann Brame, Jeanna & Tom Blaisdell

Ken Doss, Betty & Dennis Barry

James Whitley, Scott Koecler Skye Russell, K.K. Dalrymple, Sara & Mark Dalrymple

Kay Hagan, Gary Palmer

Jim & Susan Melvin

Peter & Claire Ruocchio

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Britney Jones, Crystal Hines

November 2015

O.Henry 123

GreenScene GSO Fashion Week Meet and Greet RED Cinemas Wednesday, September 16, 2015 Photographs by Lynn Donovan

Sarah Britt, Quentin Inman

Sharee Sloan, Traymelle Smith, Tyonna Goines Jessica Ramos, Aryn Mason

Meg Miller, Allyson Cole, Jesse Herndon Siobhan & Aislinn Greene

Noah Williams, Karyn Smith

Tiffany & Ava Luard, Andreas Platt, Isaac Ahmad Raj & Mala Wadhwani

Ivy Fullilov, Amari & Imani Sutton, Yasura Pey

Marcus Ledbetter, T.J. Strickland, Adrian Smith

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Ben Boles, Amy Welder, Kim Conde, Ana Livingston

Britney Jones, Crystal Hines

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Thankful for the season and blessings of home Starmount Forest

Irving Park

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2317 Danbury Road

Rare to find classic white brick, two-story home in Starmount Forest. Large corner lot with fencing. Wonderful open floor plan with spacious rooms and great custom details. Quality on every level! 2-car attached garage. Separate little house. Beautiful yard and open Patio. $539,000

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Old Irving Park

Chiswick Park

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8 Granville Oaks Ct

Irving Park brick home that was built with serenity and family comfort in mind. Overlooking the golf course, 5 BR, 5 full BAs, 2 half BAs, Master BR on main level, open floor plan and custom details. Bonus room, screened porch. 3rd level wired & plumbed to finish if desired. Attached 2-car garage. Price upon request.

Irving Park Townhome that has it ALL!!! This fabulous 5 Bedroom, 5.5 Bath home has high ceilings, custom moldings, open floor plan with elevator to all floors (and stairs). Master Suite with his & her closets. Large lower level Den, wet bar, Home Theater, screened porch. Enclosed garden/patio/grill. Must see! Price upon request.

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Xan.Tisdale@bhhsyostandlittle.com Kay.Chesnutt@bhhsyostandlittle.com ©2015 BHH Affiliates, LLC. An independently operated subsidiary of HomeServices of America, Inc., a Berkshire Hathaway affiliate, and a franchisee of BHH Affiliates, LLC. Berkshire Hathaway HomeServices and the Berkshire Hathaway HomeServices symbol are registered service marks of HomeServices of America, Inc.® Equal Housing Opportunity.

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November 2015

O.Henry 125

Give O.Henry as a Gift Wine Delivery | Special Order and Hard-To-Find Wines | Wine Pouring Services Craft Beer | Wine Tastings | Private Wine Parties |Corporate Events

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126 O.Henry

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The Accidental Astrologer

Thankful to My Dark Roots

November slides onto the star chart before you can say Butterball By Astrid Stellanova

Let’s hear it for the letter T, Star Children and lovers of Sesame

Street: tailgating, touchdowns, Thermos bottles filled with hot buttered rum — YUM! — and I’m just describing the refereed action in the backseat of my boyfriend Beau’s muscle car. Thanksgiving is family time, and family is a blessing. You never know when you might need a kidney. Enjoy your T-Day – Ad Astra

Scorpio (October 23–November 21) If you want something specific, Honey, why can’t you just say so? The very idea of giving the hairy eyeball as a firm directive just ain’t cutting it. This is a month that marks the anniversary of an event you don’t always mention. Some close to you know your age, but not all. If you can disclose more, and reserve less, you will find yourself irresistible to the opposite sex and impossible to ignore. I don’t mean everybody is eager to know where you buy your collard greens or your dental cream; I mean your admirers want to know what makes unique little you tick. Don’t gum up the works on your big day. For once, just relax and enjoy it. You’ve come a very long way, and I ought to know because my Mama is a Scorpio. Sagittarius (November 22–December 21) Somebody close to you must think they can interpret dreams. Darling, you have got to stop keeping your mind so open your brains are likely to fall out, as the cards say. OK, maybe I am the card. Listen here, you are way too vulnerable right now to let others tell you what you think. Only you know. Push back against Miss Pushy Galore. Capricorn (December 22–January 19) Bet you want to bait you a hook and get fishing. Nothing wrong with dropping out for a few days and seeing what bites. Dangle that hook in your favorite spot and let all your cares slip away. A little time with your hook in the water is just what the doctor ordered, as you have spent the year trying your best just to keep all your bait in the bucket. Who knows what bait is going to work till you try it? You know what I am talking about, Sweetheart; don’t make me spell it out. Aquarius (January 20–February 18) There were at least two times lately that somebody you look up to looked down on you. Well, actually, they aren’t any deeper than a bathtub. And some pretty shallow emotions ran through those waters, Honey. It is time for you to drain the tub and move on, which is not what you want to hear. They just think their farts in the bathtub make rainbows, but they absolutely do not. Towel off, take your rubber ducky, and move on. Pisces (February 19–March 20) I’d wager new folding money that a lost cause you have chased for a very long time is suddenly not lost at all. There are lots of reasons for you to celebrate, because you have held on when nobody with good sense or more to do would have given up. Take yourself to the movies and buy a tub of buttered popcorn and have yourself a big time. It was not the outcome you expected; it is much better than that, Sugar, and you kept the faith. Aries (March 21–April 19) Sometimes, you get all frozen up with fear like you are a shelter dog, which is conduct that does not become a Ram at all. Fear is not your friend — well, not unless we are talking about your personal finances, Honey. The holidays excite you, and you are very prone to max your cards out footing the bills for parties, gifts and good times. There’s a whole lot to do this month, and so few to do it for you. The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Taurus (April 20–May 20) Are you out of your natural mind? You have a nice offer. I don’t like to give advice, Honey, but OK, this time I will. Take it. Then, look up at the stars in the night sky and draw in a very deep, cleansing breath. Something is waiting for you, and you know it, and if you loosen up one teensy tiny bit, it will change your life. You may be just one collar button away from liberating yourself. Gemini (May 21–June 20) Honey, I bet you feel like you are wearing the road out going back and forth between Normal and Crazy Town. You are not the one making all the drama. Get still enough to realize there is a crazy-maker in your life. Love them but don’t let them direct the traffic. Cancer (June 21–July 22) A little bit of you can go a long way, which is just telling you the honest truth. Your friends aren’t going to tell you because when you are at your best it is all worth it. It ain’t a show of personal mystique to just be a crackpot. Here’s a little something to think about: God gave you two ears and one mouth. Perhaps a sign to listen more than you talk. Leo (July 23–August 22) Sugar, when things get this scary for you, there are two impulses that get a hold of you, and you know they are Benedict and Arnold. You never met a man you couldn’t blame, right? If you betray others, it only isolates you more from the star you could be. It is going to be tempting to throw somebody under the bus, but don’t. Remember, it’s the holiday season, so practice self-control. Virgo (August 23–September 22) Makes my nerves act up just thinking about all the possibilities for you this month. You are at a junction that could be pretty significant. I believe if you can tamp back your fears about moving forward, and also listen to someone close to you, whose counsel matters, this convergence of events is going to set the stage for a life-changing possibility. Hint: It won’t be an alien abduction. Libra (September 23–October 22) You could have been a spoiled, miserable person but, you opted to be the person everyone goes to with their problems. Stressed is just desserts spelled backward, Honey. Banana pudding won’t cure the common cold, but it might make you feel like you can have it all and top it with whipped cream. Do something to cure the feeling you need a little TLC. OH

For years, Astrid Stellanova owned and operated Curl Up and Dye Beauty Salon in the boondocks of North Carolina until arthritic fingers and her popular astrological readings provoked a new career path.

November 2015

O.Henry 127

O.Henry Ending

By Sam Walker

First I read

these words, then spoke them, and they have become part of me:

Life is rich. Beauty is everywhere. Every personal connection has meaning. Laughter is life’s sweetest creation. They come from a hummingbird legend. The following story is one of those connections. The boy rode his bike the short distance to the house and parked it alongside one of the square stone pillars on the front porch. Built of Pennsylvania fieldstone, the old place was quiet, unlike his first visit there when he was much younger. He recalled his grandfather’s hand guiding him up the walk. The light of the windows smiled a welcome to him that evening. The thick front door invited him into a sea of laughter with warm embraces. For the boy that meant enduring head-patting and cheek-pinching as he made his way to the kitchen and the safe loving arms that awaited him on that Thanksgiving night. Today he would not stretch on tiptoes to bang the big brass door knocker. He was already late to get his required haircut a few blocks up to the main street. Besides, he didn’t know if she was home or maybe taking her usual afternoon nap. He would see about that after the haircut, which he really didn’t want because the barber always used clippers and smelled of cooking oil. The boy detested clippers. Sure enough, on his return the lights from the front window signaled she was there. He just barely reached the knocker to a feeble “clunk” as the door opened and her love welcomed him once again. The living room looked sparse compared with those gatherings on Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve, when trails of tables stretched from the stone fireplace all the way to the end of the dining room. A horsehair love seat, wide-armed easy chairs and always the rocker where she sat. A glass of milk and a modest piece of her apple pie appeared, and they visited. It was the best part of his day. Her name was Mary Beaver Clevenger, but everyone called her Polly. She’d grown up on a large working farm several hours north and west of the

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November 2015

city. From childhood she loved gardens of vegetables and flowers, fruits from the small orchard and reading. In later years she added movies (especially love stories) and bridge — always bridge. Polly was smart, careful with money, practical and with a work ethic that put some folks to shame. Her abiding faith was nurtured from childhood and found a home at the First Baptist Church when she and her new husband moved closer to the city for his work. Polly lived the creed of hospitality. All were welcome at their table, either at the old stone house or the expansive cottage on a harbor at the Jersey shore. That’s where she and the boy first met, when he was just 3 years old. Polly remained a constant in the boy’s life as high school and college came and went. For a while even graduate school and the introduction of the boy’s new bride followed the ritual of Polly’s for Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve. As years passed those same lighted windows would smile their welcome to their children coming up that walk and through that front door into the sea of laughter and warm embraces. Near the end he came and sat by her bedside. No milk this time or apple pie. Just the quiet talk of times and people gone by. Along with his wife and children he would journey to her church to speak at the service of her memory, surrounded by the perceived presence of those who had sat at her table all those years. Words came from him later that day at the old country burial ground. Earth to earth. In this season of special times it is good to recall those who have showed us how to live a fuller life — one of openness, courage and hospitality. The deeper way of the soul. The ones to whom we offer a deep bow of gratitude. For I believe that, before anything else, Thanksgiving is a celebration of place and people, stranger to friend, in the practice of sacred welcome. In the unbridled nature of love. May it be so for you. OH Sam Walker is the former rector of Emmanuel Episcopal Church in Southern Pines and always welcome at O.Henry. The Art & Soul of Greensboro

Illustration by Meridith Martens

The Gift of Welcome

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