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startingpoint roadmap gokite “But what will the milepost neighbors think?”
Careful with that question, kiddies. It’s as loaded as they come. Half-cocked, hairtriggered and prone to backfire. A Pandora’s bazooka of paranoia so powerful, it can send the strongest personalities down a spiraling K-hole of self-doubt and poor choices. Starts with a shinier hairdo. A fancier shirt. A greener thumb. Next, you’re upgrading Stepford spouses and junking trusty friends — all because their sedan lacks the right number of zeroes. Before long you’re so worried about impressing others, you end up losing yourself.
People who learned long ago that the true path to personal success is just being yourself.
Now, check your circle of friends. Is anyone really concerned that you’re driving (or married to) last decade’s model? That your wardrobe or personality’s cranked to 11? In fact, chances are the rougher your edges Not that it’s easy to tune out the chatter. This tiny beach is a minefield of open latticework, — the louder your spirit — the more you low fences, prying noses and big mouths. An echo chamber that amplifies personal fit in. The more you fit in, the easier it is to stick around. That evolution is what business, perceived transgressions and full-on lies with equal volume. keeps the Outer Banks getting stranger “Do you think they heard?” Definitely. stranger. And ultimately — insanely — chances are and more accepting. “Do you think they care?” Sort of. the rougher So, consider this your license to go crazy. Should you care? Hell no. your edges — Embrace your inner weirdo. (And all those around you.) Forget keeping up with the After all, what’s the point of living in such an awesome the louder Joneses. Let the Joneses try and keep up corner of the universe if you can’t occasionally inflict a little your spirit with you. awe on those around you?
Flip through the next 40-odd pages and you’ll see all sorts of fine folks who fly their freak flags full-time. From wacky artists to world record holders to wrench-a-holics.
— the more you fit in.
Then leave ‘em in the dust. — Matt Walker
Thank you for reading Outer Banks Milepost. We hope you’ve enjoyed it. If not — before chucking this issue in the nearest dumpster — please consider one of the following equally satisfying ways of expressing your disgust: Paint-thinner sponge. Polishing rag for your vintage ride. Perhaps make a snug-fitting, newsprint corset or beret. Or simply add it to that sixmonth stack of newspapers you’ve yet to recycle. (Trust us: you’ll feel better.) Then, send any and all feedback — positive, negative or just plain confused — to firstname.lastname@example.org. Or light us up on Facebook with your opinions and ideas. We promise to find some way to re-purpose them. milepost 3
“I used to think anyone doing anything weird was weird. Now I know that it is the people that call others weird that are weird.” — Paul McCartney “What – me worry?” — Alfred E. Neuman
Issue 1.4 Mad scatter. Art: bgm
Reader You Brushes & Ink Marcia Cline, Fay Davis Edwards, Dawn Gray, Chris Kemp, Ben Miller Ben Morris, Daniel Pullen, Charlotte Quinn, Stephen Templeton Lensfolk Matt Artz, Chris Bickford, Michelle Connor, Amy Dixon, Lori Douglas, Julie Dreelin, Tom Dugan/ESM, Bryan Elkus, Lauren Feeney, Leigh Hannah, Bryan Harvey, Matt Lusk, Mickey McCarthy, Brooke Mayo, Dick Meseroll/ESM, Ben Miller, Rob Nelson, Crystal Polston, Gina Elliot Proulx, Daniel Pullen, Ryan Rhodes, Patrick Ruddy, DJ Struntz, Laurin Walker, Chris Wilson Penfolk Hannah Bunn, Sarah Hyde, Fran Marler, Mickey McCarthy, Matt Pruett, Ryan Rhodes, Brendan Riley, Corinne Saunders, Clumpy White, Natalie Wolfe Art Director Ben Miller/Bighouse Design Big Mouth In Chief Matt Walker Blame It All On Suite P Inc. PO Box 7100 • KDH, NC 27948 252-441-6203 email@example.com • firstname.lastname@example.org Outer Banks Milepost is published quarterly (sorterly) by Suite P Inc. All contents are the property of Suite P Inc. and do not reflect the opinion of advertisers or distributors. Nor do their contents reflect that of the creative types (who would never, ever sell out). Comments, letters and submissions are usually welcome. Please include SASE for return delivery of all snail mail, however, Milepost and Suite P Inc. still aren’t responsible for any unsolicited materials. And don’t expect much else to move much faster than IST (Island Standard Time). Oh yeah: if you reprint a lick of this content you’re ripping us off. (Shame on you.) To discuss editorial ideas, find out about advertising or tell us we blew it – or just find out what the waves are doing – call 252-441-6203 or email: email@example.com; firstname.lastname@example.org.
“Brand New Hat and Glasses” by Fay Davis Edwards www.faydavisedwards.com
“I love painting the human figure. There’s such an endless variety of shapes, lines and forms. And the more unusual a person is — whether they’re really thin or very heavy; tattooed and pierced or missing a limb — the more interesting it becomes, especially if you capture someone’s personality. And with watercolors, that glow you can get from the light passing through and bouncing off the paper is just brilliant. Almost transformative. Lots of times, people walk up to a mirror and just start picking themselves apart. They think, ‘Oh, my hair is bad, my face is bad.’ But when you look at someone else’s interpretation of yourself, it’s not as easy to be so cruel. And in that way, a portrait can be more accurate than any photograph.”
— Fay Davis Edwards
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How loud is too loud? Who wants free money? And what is a “Lucie?”
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WHAT’S ALL THE NOISE ABOUT? soundcheck Dare County and KDH revisit laws surrounding excessive volume They may not have seen it coming — but they sure heard it get there. When Dare County proposed adding decibel limits to the existing noise ordinance this August, commissioners weathered an hour-long tirade of loud Hatteras locals. DJs. Club owners. The head of the Wedding Association. All speaking up against what sounded like another unnecessary law to send would-be vacationers elsewhere.
the need for clearer rules grows more apparent, as every vacationer expects his own version of a good time. As Outten notes: “Some people want to go to bed; some want to listen to guitar on the porch.” And some just want to rage into the wee
“I’ve got a bride who’s waiting to confirm her house for next summer,” noted one rental agent. “All based on what you decide tonight.”
The irony? The county says it’s looking for ways to rein-in complaints — not expand them.
She notes that as the executive director of the YMCA she hired an outdoor band. When the Nags Head police arrived to say it was too loud, they were able to work with the band to get them under the decibel reading.
According to one attendee’s meter, the meeting room never got under 65dB. A normal conversation? 60dB. Add a few folks having good time, put businesses and beach boxes side-by-side — or just put the wrong mix of rental houses together for one week — and
As of Labor Day, the KDH Police had responded to 174 noise complaints. Managers on duty turned things down, but the officers expressed concern that if anyone refused, they “don’t have a leg to stand on.” In August, commissioners hosted a noise demonstration to help citizens hear the differences between things like boom boxes and buzzing locusts. Surprisingly, even the most vocal residents recognized the role nightlife plays in our economy and local culture. “We want people to enjoy themselves,” says Mayor Sheila Davies. “And we certainly don’t want to paint a picture that these are bad businesses.”
“The sheriff got multiple complaints about noise this summer,” says County Manager Bobby Outten. “When he went to help, he basically found he couldn’t really do anything because of the way our noise ordinance is written right now.”
With no official line to cross, one deputy might consider the volume perfectly reasonable. Another might write a citation. And the complaining party — or the partying household — has no real sense of boundaries. So Outten researched other coastal communities and proposed roughly the same limits as Nags Head — 60dB for residential, 65dB for commercial and 70dB for industrial — which seemed reasonable enough. At least until the commenting public showed how boisterous a group of people can get.
in the morning.” But this summer, the big culprit was clubs after midnight.
hours. In Kill Devil Hills, the decibel debacle isn’t about McMansions — it’s about McDonald’s and the surrounding businesses on “French Fry Alley.” The issue first came to the board’s attention last fall because of “really loud dumpsters early
Both Dare County and KDH say the hard part is deciding what the limits should be. (At press time, they were considering different levels for before and after 11pm.) But both insist police won’t be patrolling with sound meters. Enforcement will still be complaintdriven, with the standard response being, “Please, turn it down.” The problem is noise complaints are all about perception. One wedding reception’s house of joy can be its neighbor’s house of evil. Your
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loyal protector is probably someone else’s “damn barking dog.” Even KDH Commissioner Mike Hogan admits he might enjoy country music drifting into his yard, but he’d find hiphop of the same volume “annoying” (while emphasizing that doesn’t constitute an actual public nuisance). And though ordinances try to fairly balance the public good, economic need and plain daily life, the effect is often the opposite.
Local film artists capture international honors
For example, both KDH and Dare County’s proposals feature a range of business exemptions from airplanes to landscapers to fishing boats. Meanwhile, some club owner might have to cut the music early and see customers leave, just to get an earful of John Deere at 7am. Or suffer a week full of countyapproved, ear-splitting Harleys come spring. And as one Hatteras musician plainly stated, “My guitar puts food on the table, too.”
“We’re not trying to bust anybody,” says Outten who reminds that nobody’s even been fined in Nags Head. “We’re not locked into any particular number. We just need to find a balance that works for our community.” If they don’t, you can bet they’ll hear about it. — Corinne Saunders & Matt Walker
The Harveys love Lucie. Photo: Burn Books
“You like me! You really like me!” Nobody liked Sally Field’s sappy Oscar speech. But we all can appreciate the emotion. And this fall, three local talents felt the thrill for two very different projects. “The focus is on these Texas scientists who help beached dolphins,” says Nags Head’s Cory Godwin, producer of Out of the Blue, winner of the 2012 Blue Ocean Film Festival’s “Best Student Documentary.” “But the movie’s really about reducing your environmental impact.”
fashion, art, Jewelry, curiosities
It began as another UNC-Wilmington senior assignment — until he and classmate Matt Stamm won Wrightsville Beach’s Visions Festival in March. Six months and five film fests later, they took down flicks from Alaska to New Zealand at California‘s weeklong gathering of the biggest names in conservation.
“It’s all about blurring the lines between documentary and fantasy,” says Bryan. “So it shows you the culture of Rio, but it also tells a story.” By the time you read this, the Harveys may have won the Paris Photo Book of the Year award, as well. But they are quick to emphasize that doing good work is the real reward. And the Out of the Blue team couldn’t agree more.
“They told us our speech could only be “We’re obviously stoked to win,” says Godwin. five words,” laughs Godwin. “So we said, “But the coolest thing was just having all those ‘Someone influential please hire us.’” like-minded people be so receptive.” — Harold N. Modd One thing National Geographic staffer
For more on these award-winning creations go to www. outofthebluedoc.org and www.burnmagazine.com.
1180 Duck Rd Duck, NC
“It’s feels like being in a garage band at the Grammies,” says Harvey, who moved to Nags Head six years ago. “We’re this ragtag shop operating off of laptops up against the biggest names in the business. But it’s only because of Bryan’s design. It’s more like a Rubik’s cube than a book.” Bryan is David’s son and neighbor. A documentary filmmaker, Bryan flows his dad’s shots into an immersive experience with no white space — and no binding — where pictures move and combine with each page turn.
By the end of that meeting, Dare County tabled the proposed ruling for more input with plans to decide by year’s end. Kill Devil Hills, however, was poised to rule as early as November 14. It’s worth noting that everyone clearly expressed their goal is not to kill people’s businesses, or their eardrums, or even their buzz.
David Alan Harvey doesn’t need is recognition. His magazine, Burn, already has one digital Lucie Award honoring “the greatest achievements in photography.” Still, he felt like an underdog when his book of 66 raw Rio images — titled (based on a true story) — earned Lucie’s “2012 Publisher of the Year.”
Creating a positive personalized experience for EVERY client. 252-261-2809 P.O. Box 482, Kitty Hawk, NC 27949 www.sykesobx.com • email@example.com milepost 7
THE FREEDMEN’S soundcheck TALE: PART ONE
Sketches of America’s sketchiest era. Courtesy of the U.S. Library of Congress.
Roanoke Island’s other “lost colony” paints a Civil War story beyond the blue and the gray. February 1862 was a time of adjustment on the Outer Banks. After driving off the Confederacy, Union troops settled in for five more years. But their first impressions were anything but comforting, as reports reflect attitudes any modern resident might share while facing a harrowing winter. One embedded journalist described Roanoke Island’s Camp Foster as “a miserable place, being nothing but an inner sandbank, ornamented with stunted trees, scrub wood and tangled brushwood.” Still, a Massachusetts soldier noted, “the island was a long step nearer civilization than Hatteras.” Little did anyone realize these islands would help American civilization take another major leap.
At the time, the Outer Banks had a permanent population of 590 — 395 white residents, 24 free blacks and 171 slaves. The freedmen worked as fishermen, merchants or mechanics. Evidence suggests slave
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conditions weren’t so harsh as the mainland, as some local masters even violated NC state law by allowing their slaves to read and write. The Confiscation Act of 1861 declared that slaves of rebels who signed up to fight for the Union were free. Once the Union took power, word quickly spread to inland farms and plantations that Roanoke Island offered refuge. Runaways soon flocked and gathered in makeshift settlements on the edge of the Union encampment.
By the fall of 1862, more than 10,000 former slaves lived inside Union lines along the Carolina coast. In another two years, that number would reach 17,419. New Bern boasted the largest percentage at 8,591 but the Outer Banks sheltered the second largest number with 2,712 on Roanoke Island, while 89 lived on Hatteras.
through Manteo Airport down to Burnside Road today. Its military street plan was typically rigid: three 50-foot-wide straight roads named Lincoln, Roanoke and Burnside Avenues ran parallel to the Croatan Sound, 1200 feet apart; 26 streets — each 25 feet wide — crossed the avenues every 400 feet. The northern five were the old company streets from Camp Foster, marked A through E. The rest were numbered 1st through 21st Streets. North Carolina law still prohibited black men from preaching or getting an education, but inside camp construction rapidly began on churches and schools with the help of the American Missionary Association. A steam-driven sawmill became the new colony’s centerpiece. Still, the most impressive feature was the sheer momentum and optimism of the project.
Fearing the close crowds would impact military discipline and cause sanitation issues, officers began to address what they called “the contraband problem.” (The Union still considered the former slaves as confiscated property to be kept out of Confederate hands.) With good soil, wooded land and plenty of water and fish, relatively protected Roanoke Island seemed the perfect place to try a grand experiment. In the Spring of 1863, General John C. Foster began work on a government-sanctioned settlement for the families of freedmen soldiers.
With each new arrival, the vision grew stronger of a “New Social Order” where whites and blacks would live and work together as free men. But, as we’ll find out next issue, the colony itself would not last long enough to see that dream reach full fruition. — Mickey McCarthy
No map of the colony exists, but written records indicate the bulk of the property was on the northwest end of the island, running roughly two miles south from Weirs Point to Pork Point and stretching east another mile — the approximate area of Sunnyside Road
Can’t wait ‘til spring? For more info read Time Full of Trial: The Roanoke Island Freedmen’s Colony, 1862-1867 by Patricia C. Click. Or visit the Outer Banks History Center’s “Fishers, Fighters and Freedmen” Civil War Exhibit, running through Dec. 30 at Roanoke Island Festival Park. And be sure to attend the 9th Annual Roanoke Island Freedmen’s Colony Blues Jam on Feb. 8 at the College of the Albemarle Dare Campus Auditorium.
“I cannot tell you how busy I am,” wrote missionary teacher Elizabeth James in December of 1863. “Those who are escaping from bondage are pressing in from all directions. From one to two hundred arrive every few days.”
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MONEY FOR SOMETHING
The Outer Banks is rolling in college cash. All you have to do is ask for it. “The whole point of our scholarship is you don’t have to go to college. You can — and I did — but if you need a thousand bucks to help travel the world, we’re the people who want to say, ‘That’s sick. Go for it. We don’t care how you did in ceramics class.’” Too good to be true? Hardly. It’s called “The World’s Greatest Scholarship in the Universe Scholarship.” Last fall, Tyler Nilson and five fellow Manteo grads pooled their resources then asked kids to submit video clips, songs, poems — anything to prove they were the “most awesome, quirky, funny, interesting and intriguing high school senior.” Come May, they took over the First Flight and Manteo ceremonies wearing pimp suits and prom dresses, then handed two lucky winners briefcases filled with $500. All for “just being awesome.”
are needs based. Some reward grades. Some just help whomever they can. Yet, out of 321 seniors — all of whom received a packet of options — most deciding committees say they got around 30 applicants. Mostly from the same names. “A lot kids probably assume that scholarships are just for kids at the top of the class,” says Nancy Griffin, Director of Secondary Instruction for Dare County Schools. “And some probably just don’t want to write another essay. But we need to encourage more kids to apply. Because there are scholarships for a very diverse range of students.” Athletics or agriculture — a two-year tech college or four-year university — there’s a fund for anyone with a unique talent or vision of the future. For example, Lige’s
“We actually ended up giving away more money than we originally planned,” says co-founder Ben Eckerson. “Just because the kids impressed us so much.” Granted, $500 barely buys books these days. But in a world where two-thirds of 2011 grads owe an average of $26,000 — where 20% of American households carry some kind of college debt — every dollar counts. Luckily for Dare County students, plenty of area benefactors are virtually begging to fund higher education. “I had no idea how many local scholarships were available,” says Dr. Christian Lige, who started his Surf Pediatrics Foundation last year. “It makes me wonder if the kids do either.” Probably not. In 2012, a total of 287 community scholarships awarded exactly $398,900 to Dare County graduates. Some
In 2012, a total of 287 community scholarships awarded exactly $398,900 to Dare County graduates.
foundation may say “Pediatrician,” but it’ll pay for any medical pursuit from chiropractor to nurse to physical therapist. Likewise, the Outer Banks Restaurant Association’s dollars could translate into a culinary school or a management degree. And the Dare County Boat Builders Foundation in no way requires you to go build a boat. “One recipient’s dad was a tugboat captain; another worked at TW’s,” says DCBBF’s Jennifer James, who helped divvy up $50,000 last year alone. “It’s really
for anyone whose family is in the fishing or boating industries, or if they want to become a part of it.” Of course, every process is different. Some split the pot. Others write one big check. A few are renewable. Six are for Cape Hatteras kids only. The North Carolina Beach Buggy Association actually offers three different options: one for any Dare County senior; a second helps the child of any member; there’s even one for adults. “There’s an awful lot of people in this country whose jobs have been eliminated,” says the NCBBA’s Mike Metzgar, “so we feel it’s important to help more than just high schoolers.” Still, for most would-be college freshmen, the biggest potential windfall comes inside March’s senior scholarship packages. So now’s the time to start preparing. Ask your churches, clubs and guidance counselors about the different options. Read the instructions carefully to make sure you’re a fit. Then tailor your essays and references to blow minds. “Show them why you’re unique,” says Griffin. “Even if you’re not at the top of your class, there’s something that makes you shine in some special way.” Just ask the “Greatest Scholarship” board’s collection of ad execs, chemists, actors and engineers. They know college is important. But so is being happy in your career. That’s why they want every kid to discover their true calling and commit to following through. “This is such a creative community we should have 300 applications,” says jet engine designer John Buscemi. “Hit us on Twitter. Email. Shoot us a text. We don’t care how you impress us. But you do have to do something.” — Matt Walker
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FISH THE WEB
There’s surfing the web — and then there’s “webbing the surf.” With 1.7 million users every month, Surfline.com is the Internet’s waveriding information hotspot. A one-stop-shop for video clips, articles, web cams, and forecasts that helps surfers seek out new and exciting destinations — or just find the best spot in their own backyard on any given day. Now their parent company is repackaging the same resources and concept to hook sportfishing aficionados from Cape Charles to Diamond Shoals and as far as Vanuatu. “Because of the satellites in use for Surfline, we can apply the same data sets to fishing,” says Fishtrack.com’s development founder Will James. “It’s a comprehensive picture that really lets you know what is going on in the fishing world.”
Like Surfline, Fishtrack takes NASA imagery and Google map technology then adds a range of offshore meteorological data. Base services are free but an annual subscription of $80 buys it all: real-time buoy readings and wave heights; wind speeds and direction; sea surface temperature, currents and bathymetry; chlorophyll charts that delineate between areas rich in phytoplankton and clear, blue water.
LEFT: Satellite images of chlorophyll concentration levels show plankton density levels. In this image you can see the clear, blue waters of the Gulf Stream offshore, while the red areas represent the nutrient-rich waters inside Pamlico Sound. Light blue areas represent eddies and pushes of warm water that are pulling inshore off of the Gulfstream. For offshore fishermen, locating these eddies and edges is key to finding concentrations of bait and the large Pelagic fish that feed on them.
New site aims to hook worldwide anglers with proven tackle
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Buoy readings, sea temps and chlorophyll charts make a complex sport more user-friendly.
water because it’s unbelievable how fish will congregate on just the other side.”
That’s must-have info for commercial fleets, charter captains and weekend warriors. And while Fishtrack may not offer nearshore and inshore maps, a growing number of editorial elements help educate and entertain all types of anglers. Besides articles on how to properly tie knots, make your own rigs and match lures to species, there’s coverage of fishing trips and recent record, all presented in ways that make a complex sport a bit more user friendly. And perhaps even more fun.
Want to visit multiple destinations and let autopilot do the work? No problem. Look for latitude and longitudes and create waypoints for your trip. And while there won’t be any controversial “web cams” — the concept of streaming surfbreaks live still chaps some surfers — there is plenty of info to suggest where to go looking, as viewers stay abreast of changing waters by layering composite images anywhere between one and three days. And changing waters can make or break your trip offshore.
“Warm water with no oxygen can kill fish and crabs instantly,” says Bobby Smith, Captain of Fish-N-Fool Charters. “You really want to be on the edge of the dead
“The raw data can help guide the experienced and provide more success for the novice angler,” says Jennette’s Pier angling instructor Chris Crockett. “But anything that gets more people out there learning and excited about fishing is a good thing.” So is anything that promises less time in front of the computer — and more time perfecting your cast. — Fran Marler
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GROOM FOR soundcheck ERROR It’s estimated that 90% of adult American males shave every day. The other 10% must live on the Outer Banks. In honor of every local boy’s favorite winter fur fashion, we scraped together the following odd assortment of facialhair related factoids:
1.3 billion: Number of men worldwide who will shave with a razor today.
30,000: Average total number of
potential beard hairs on a man’s face — the greatest concentration being on the chin and upper lip
20,000: Estimated number of times a beardless man will shave in his lifetime 27: Average total feet of hair removed in that time
Minimum number of strokes it takes for the average man to shave his face
3.5: Estimated number of minutes per shave
Rip Van Winkle? Uncle Jesse off “Dukes of Hazzard?” The bass player for ZZ Top? Nope. It’s Benjamin T. Daniels, Chairman of Dare Co.’s Board of Commissioners, 1893-1896; 1899-1904.
28-32 degrees: The ideal shaving angle for the blade to meet the face 84: Percentage of men who shave at the sink (15% shave in the shower) 5: Number of inches a beard grows on average each year
17.5: Length in feet of Norwegian Hans Langseth’s world-record beard at the time of death
3,300: Average number of hours a man will spend shaving (or 138 days of his life)
10,000 B.C.: Date of earliest cave
drawing depicting men with beards and clean faces
1680: Year of the first folding straight razor
1901: Year of the first safety razor patent
10: Length in feet of the longest mustache on record, grown by Birger Pellas of Sweden. 7: Percentage of non-shaving men who cite religious convictions (15% claim discomfort; 3% just don’t want to)
70: Estimated percentage of American women who prefer a clean-shaven man.
Sources: www.ultimatepersonalshaver.com/how-to/fun-shaving-myths-and-facts.aspx; www.hairweb.org/menshaving.htm; www.moderngent.com/history_of_shaving/history_of_shaving.php
UNCOMMON COURTESY startingpoint
Room in the Inn gives local homeless food, shelter and respect
Some call them “destitute.” Others say “down and out.” Gail Leonard prefers a more hospitable term: “Guests.” As coordinator for Room in the Inn, she and a band of volunteers, businesses, charities and churches provide shelter, food and assistance to as many as 47 homeless men and women every winter. And with each generous act, they don’t just give needy folks a place to stay — they offer hope for a better future.
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Colorful Friday November 23rd
MILEPOST: How does the program work?
GAIL LEONARD: Well, winter’s the worst time for homeless on the Outer Banks —not just because the weather’s bad but also because people can’t find work. So we start in November and run for at least 20 weeks. The guests come to the intake site at 5pm. Our Case Manager, Chris Driver, administers a Breathalyzer, makes sure they know the rules, then takes them to the hosting church. They get dinner, a mattress and fresh sheets. The next morning we give them breakfast, showers and a bag lunch. At 9am they’re free for the day and at 5pm they come back and start over again. Some of the guests have family elsewhere so we’ll work through the Department of Social Services to get them bus tickets to go back home. Or, if they have alcohol or drug issues, we try to get them into detox or long-term rehab. It’s really to help those who are experiencing hard times bridge the gap and get back on their feet.
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Sorry. Dumping your old couch does not qualify as “helping the homeless.”
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So how can people help?
Well, if a church wants to take a week, that’s wonderful. Or they can host at one of our other churches. And we can always use money for meals, winter clothes and
cell phone minutes so they can apply for jobs. Whatever helps our guests be comfortable and make it on their own, that’s what we try to do. It’s cool you call them “guests.” A lot of people tend to be judgmental or scared when it comes to the homeless.
Claiborne Yarbrough — who really got the program going five years ago — dealt with a lot of negative perceptions at first. One night, she brought her twin daughters to help with dinner. On the way home one said, “Mom, they’re just people!” And that’s the great thing about having churches involved: the more members interact with the guests, the more that fear is erased. Intake for 2012/2013 will be at His Dream Center, 205 Baltic Street, Nags Head between 5 and 6pm. To volunteer, donate or inquire about more ways to help, contact Gail Leonard at 252-207-8820.
Room at the Inn receives financial and in-kind assistance from the Outer Banks Community Foundation, Outer Banks Relief Foundation, Interfaith Community Outreach, New Horizons, White Cap Linens, and AT&T as well as Dare County Parks and Recreation, Dare County Transportation and KDH Police. Host churches include Duck United Methodist, All Saints Episcopal, Kitty Hawk United Methodist, St. Andrews Episcopal, Nags Head Church, Colington United Methodist, Liberty Christian Church, Mt. Olivet United Methodist, Manteo Assembly of God, Faith Baptist, Ocean View Baptist and Roanoke Acres Church of Christ.
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questionauthority upfront soundcheck getactive startingpoint roadmap Paper chase down Colington Road. Photo: Ben Miller
STOP. RIGHT. THERE. milepost The law says license and sobriety checkpoints are allowed so long as they’re reasonable. We asked the ACLU to help define “reasonable.”
“The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.” — 4th Amendment, U.S. Constitution Bill of Rights
Clearly, our founding fathers never had to drive down Colington Road on NFL Sunday. And while the issue of highway safety and drunk driving is every Outer Banker’s concern — especially during the holiday season — it only takes a couple winter roadblocks to wonder: how is it Constitutional to randomly make drivers stop and prove they’re not breaking the law? As a Racial Justice Attorney with the ACLU of North Carolina, Raul Pinto’s job includes protecting civil liberties during the execution of roadblocks, license checks and police stops in general. We asked him to help clarify the state and federal statutes so both drivers and officers know their legal limits.
milepost: So what are the rights we’re working with? Because I’d say just 50 years ago most people would see random checkpoints as unconstitutional. RAUL PINTO: So when you’re talking about checkpoints — and it’s important for people to know that even a brief slowdown to show your license constitutes a seizure under the law — that would bring the stop under the 4th Amendment, which states that any seizure has to be reasonable. And when you talk about the racial disparities that inherently occur in some cities while executing these checkpoints, then you’re looking at 14th Amendment equal protection claims. In both cases, you’re starting to look at the manner in which these checkpoints are being conducted, and whether it’s unreasonable. And that can take on different meanings. For example, we conducted an investigation in Winston Salem where the police department had conducted 244 checkpoints concentrated in minority areas. So we think that that number alone would make those checkpoints unreasonable. Also — and this is an important point — the checkpoints cannot be utilized for general crime control. For example, police officers cannot set up a checkpoint in order to investigate drug crimes or search your vehicle for drugs. And that has been decided by the Supreme Court of the United States. The Supreme Court also stated that the police department must have a public interest to conduct these checkpoints. And while they do have the authority to do them under federal law and North Carolina statues, you can’t be held up for more than you could be for what the original checkpoint is intended for. Is there a difference legally between a license check and a sobriety check and what the police can do? Usually, a sobriety checkpoint is a larger operation — they’ll have more officers, a Breathalyzer test ready, a mobile unit — so it takes more planning. A license check is something that can be done by only a couple of officers and can happen anytime, anywhere. But the procedure is similar: officers are supposed to be stopping cars in a random, systematic fashion — every vehicle, every second vehicle, every third vehicle. But if a driver comes to a regular license checkpoint and the officer has reasonable suspicion to believe that you’ve been drinking, then they can do the Breathalyzer test, as well. So the gamut of violations they can check during a license check is really the entire spectrum of traffic laws. I think that’s what troubles people the most: that by asking a series of questions — or by simply asking for consent to search — they find ways to go from “Let me see your ID” to “What’s in your car?” And you’re touching on another issue, as well, which is consent. And unfortunately, consent is the catch-all. If a driver gives consent to search the vehicle then the police can
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do so. So it’s important for the community to know that when an officer asks for consent, you as a driver and as a citizen always have the right to deny that consent. But then the argument becomes, “If you have nothing to hide why not consent?” How do you maintain your rights without appearing disrespectful? That’s a very tricky balance. Because officers will certainly utilize certain tactics to obtain consent. One thing the driver has to know is [law enforcement] does need reasonable suspicion to search your car without consent. And, remember, the driver can’t be prolonged any longer than it should have taken for the original purpose of the stop. If it’s a seatbelt checkpoint, the officer should be able to see if you’re wearing your seatbelt, check for your license, registration or other papers and — if all is in compliance — let you go on your way. So if they’re asking for consent then you might have an argument that the checkpoints actually are not for the purpose of conducting a seatbelt check, but are more of a fishing expedition, which will then take them from the ambit of being allowed by federal law to not being allowed. But the interesting thing is, the more educated a citizen is when it comes to their rights — the more they know they have the authority to deny consent — the less likely it is the officer will use that same tactic in the future. I’ll give you an example. Fayetteville recently had racial disparities in the amount of consent searches. In some instances African-Americans were being searched at rates of 3-to-1 to Caucasian drivers. The city council took measures, one of which was the driver has to put consent in writing. And the consent form also states and informs the driver that they have the right to say no. So when people know their rights, they can actually help shape police policy and police practice. Here, a neighborhood called Colington seems to get more checkpoints than others. And the Outer Banks isn’t very racially diverse to begin with, but you could argue more people in Colington come from a different socioeconomic background than some of the wealthier beach neighborhoods. Is there any precedent for socioeconomic bias? Or is that inherently harder to prove than race?
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Unfortunately, when it comes to discrimination law, socioeconomic status has not been given very high priority. But I do encourage folks in these communities that are affected and feel like their rights are being violated to contact the ACLU and their elected officials so they have it on their radar. So what are the rights of the driver? Can he or she refuse a search? Refuse to show ID? If they turn around, does that give the police a right to come after them? Remember: law enforcement agencies in North Carolina do have the authority and the right to conduct checkpoints. So, the best thing for a driver to do is remain calm and cooperative. That’s Point #1. If they ask for your license and registration, provide them. Turning around from a checkpoint should not necessarily be reason for an officer to follow. But we’ve seen other communities set up a pursuit vehicle who will follow vehicles that turn around. So in practice it often happens. milepost 17
questionauthority What about dog searches? How is that not an invasion of privacy?
Unfortunately, dog searches have been upheld because the dog will basically sniff air, and supposedly the air is not private. It’s really a technicality. But if the dog comes up with a positive — which you never really know what that positive is unless you’ve been trained to work with the animals — it creates reasonable suspicion for the officer to search the vehicle without consent. But remember, the officer cannot prolong the search any longer than what it should’ve taken for the original purpose of the stop. So, let’s say they stop you for a seat belt, and they mention it will take them an hour and a half to get the dog, that’s something that’s violating your rights. So people should be aware of that.
Well, I would definitely avoid that tone. And there are certain exceptions to when an officer can search your vehicle without consent and without a warrant. For, example, if you have something that looks criminal in plain view. It’s really a case-by-case basis. But denying consent is your right. And it’s not only established in federal constitutional law but in the statute and the law that allows officers to conduct consent searches. So you have that option. So if you’re sober and your car is clean, the best thing someone can do in this situation is — instead of saying, “Go ahead and search it because I want to get out of here” — just say, “No.” That way, if they go through the process and come up empty-handed, it establishes a pattern of it not being so beneficial for the police to keep asking.
So they say, “We can just wait for the dogs.” But then you can say, “If you don’t produce a dog in the next five minutes, I’m outta here.” Maybe not in that tone…
as I could remember once they’ve been subjected to this kind of stop. So if you think you’re being held up too long, what do you do? Is there a point where you can you say, “Are we done here?” After you’ve answered the normal string of questions, you can always ask — and you should always ask, “Am I free to leave?” Because if the officer says no, then you’re going from a mere traffic detention to a possible seizure of your person. And that triggers more constitutional protections. What about the rights of the passenger? Assuming you’re not sitting in the car with a beer in your hand, are you protected?
Well, I would phrase it a bit differently. I would be forceful in asserting my rights and the rights given to me under the constitution. In North Carolina, passengers are And I would write down as much information not required to give identification
Otherwise, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride. Photo: C. White
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to the officer, unless the officer has reasonable suspicion to believe you’ve been part of a crime. However, a lot of officers do not necessarily know this, so our recommendation is always — in order to avoid further trouble — that if passengers have that identification, they should just show it and that way they can comply with the officer’s request. So in some situations, it’s better to comply than push back. But then you can always follow up with law enforcement and say, “Look, this is what happened, and this is the chronology of what happened, and this is why I feel it’s unreasonable.” Yes, because if they get one complaint, they may be less likely to do something than if they get 10 complaints. And that’s the same
the name of the officer. Make a copy of the ticket for your records because we’ve heard in some communities that once a person’s paid a ticket they were only given a receipt. Record, record, record. Then you can take that information to internal affairs or a nonprofit organization like ours. Also, keep the What else should someone do if they feel conversation going about this issue. Talk to they were unreasonably detained? your neighbors; talk to your friends. Find out whether this has happened to others. If they were unjustly ticketed they should That will help show if it’s a single event or a definitely contact an attorney that specifically practice of your law enforcement agency. deals with traffic issues. Second, take copious notes. As soon as the stop is over, Besides the obvious — don’t break the law write down as much information as you can — is there anything people can do to avoid remember. Definitely include the police being stuck in these situations? department or law enforcement agency that You know, the traffic code — not only in conducted the stop. If it’s a checkpoint, try to remember how many officers and patrol North Carolina but every state — is so cars were present. Always try and remember intricate that at any given moment you could thing with our organization, as well. One complaint may show me that it happened once. But if I have 10 complaints from a certain community then I know it could be a systemic problem that needs to be addressed.
be breaking two traffic laws at one time. So it really becomes the discretion of the officer as to what type of violation they’re going to stop you for. And a lot of these rights, you can assert them, but the officers end up doing the things they’re trained to do. But again, maintain calm and be as courteous and cooperative as possible. That’s something we always advocate. It might lessen the tension of a very stressful situation. And definitely report it to someone. Because if these stories go untold there’s nothing you can do to change those unconstitutional practices. — Matt Walker
The preceding interview was edited for space and clarity. For a complete transcription of the discussion — including more of Pinto’s work to protect minority rights in other parts of NC — go to www.outerbanksmilepost.com.
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It’s 6pm and nobody’s been to the Teet in a week. I’m foraging the pantry. My husband hunts through the fridge, shrouded in a cloud of freezer smoke, scoping in vain for something more substantial than blueberries and edamame. Suddenly, the sound of feet comes stomping up the back stairs and our fishing captain neighbor sticks his head through the door. “Hey,” he says, haggard and wind-whipped after a long day offshore. “Who wants dolphin?” Serendipity? Yes and no. The timing is impeccable, but the mahi is payback for editing some freelance fishing stories. Whenever he asks, “How much?” my response is always, “Just bring me something fresh.” But no matter how many times we make an exchange, my heart swells with deep appreciation. And that’s why I love to barter. Whether it’s melons for tomatoes, yoga classes for eggs, or childcare for childcare, you can’t trade goods and services without getting personal. And with each transaction, I feel more strongly linked to my friends and neighbors than if I’d said, “Fifty bucks, please.” Outer Bankers love to barter. I hear the oddball juxtapositions all the time. Accounting for wetsuits. Surfboards for concrete. Hardwood floors for offshore fishing. Wine for stereo hookups. Russian olive pruning for the use of a duck blind. Dog sitting for fishing rods. A house for a sailboat. Landscaping for a weekend apartment in NYC. My husband once built a skiff in trade for farmland. But it’s more than something people do to save cash. It’s an essential function of the thousand-piece puzzle we locals call “survival.” A social glue that binds folks and businesses in the most simple, genuine way possible: you fill their need, they’ll fill yours. It’s the timeless art of getting by. “You’re going to laugh when I tell you how much I barter,” says Janet Rainey, a massage therapist and mother of two teenagers in Nags Head. “Really, it is kind of funny. Sometimes I find myself trading so much that I don’t have a dollar in my pocket.” Rainey’s a virtual black belt in bartering. In her world, a 60-minute massage can buy almost anything. Yard work, hair styling for her and the girls, prom nails, tutoring, restaurant meals, advertising, accounting, jewelry, personal training, acupuncture, medical care, clothing, a tune-up for her car and horse trailer repair. “See those shelves?” she asks, pointing to her kitchen walls. “Five massages.” But then Rainey’s ingenuity was born of necessity. After her daughter Bela suffered a cerebral arteriovenous malformation and was hospitalized for months, Rainey was unable to work. On top of the medical bills, when Bela got home she needed physical and occupational therapy. Medicare only covered a small portion. Rather than feel defeated, Rainey got creative. She traded some of Bela’s occupational therapy, milepost
Here: Portrait of the barterist. Janet Rainey takes a moment to reflect. Previous: The Raineys’ trading skills can work anything into a bargain – from plumbing to manicures to body scrubs.
physical therapy and tutoring for massage. She also found a way to take care of herself and her daughters by bartering for some of the luxuries she could no longer afford.
and when her family was in dire straits the community rallied for them. “In the lean times you have to lean on people,” says Rainey. “Just don’t be afraid to ask.”
“You can get trapped in a world where you’re always saying you don’t have any money, but you can do just about everything without it — except, of course, the mortgage and household bills,” says Rainey. “I can eat, get dressed, have fashionable jewelry, get my hair done, all the luxuries that everybody complains they can’t have… without any money. Yes, you can have it!”
On Hatteras Island, where the circle is smaller, the shared experiences more tangible, people have always come together. Today, the Really Really Free Market stands as a permanent monument to communities helping each other handle cash-strapped times. Nationally, Really Really Free Markets began as a political statement for creating a free market society, a world in which resources are held in common and the people As a natural soap and body-products crafter, combine forces to meet everyone’s needs. Jenn Bela’s adopted the practice herself. When Augustson of Avon started the Really Really Free working at the Manteo Farmers Market in the Market at the Avon Fire Station almost three past, she had a little system of weekly trades: a years ago as a cool way for the Islanders to stand bar of soap for a cheddar biscuit in the morning, together. After Hurricane Irene, with the help a body scrub for a brownie a couple hours later. of a donated empty storefront the Free Market served as a collection center for donations from In any market setting, vendors spend as around the country, tying Hatteras residents much time trading with each other as they to one another while connecting them to the do courting customers. That makes artists kindness of strangers. “It’s not just about being and craftspeople some of the most prolific free,” says Augustson. “It’s more about being a part barterers. Julie Moye, owner of the KDH of the community. It’s become a real family event.” Co-Op in Kill Devil Hills, notes the numerous artists in her art cooperative gallery are always Today, on the first Saturday of every month trading works. “If I see a piece I love, I’ll make a from 9am until noon, Hatteras Islanders are trade,” she says. “I just traded with Jim Fineman encouraged to bring crafts, goods, unwanted — four of his bowls for one of my paintings.” stuff, services, skills, games, music or resources. People take whatever they want or they work And while creative expression may not have out barters. No money changes hands. Some a clear cash value Moye explains that — to months they have a theme, like books or artists — such goods are actually more Christmas decorations, and some months it’s a tangible than currency. “Other workers know little bit of everything. The end result is a big, how much money they’re making all the time,” self-organized yard sale full of regulars where says Moye. “An artist doesn’t know what’s everything is free and whatever’s left at the end going to sell that month. So your work is your of the day goes to a thrift shop or the library. money. Either it’s already made or you can “It’s fun,” Augustson says. “It’s kind of become make it. It’s a guarantee, more of a certainty.” like a hand-me-down train. In fact, I’m wearing a pair of Free Market pants right now.” It even works across the borders from business to business. So much that Moye has a standing Whether you’re strapped for cash, a closet agreement with her next-door neighbors, the anarchist, or you just like the thought of a Outer Banks Brewing Station. “I make their tap currency-free society, be like your fellow handles,” she says. “They give me food, kegs or Bankers and barter. Think about the things you gift certificates.” could give. Think about the skills you can trade or teach, the useful or beautiful things you have No matter the situation, bartering isn’t about and don’t need. Think of the resources you striking the shrewdest bargain, but showing the can share and the lives you can touch. And the greatest support for each other. It’s giving from joy of making an otherwise cold transaction the heart and watching that generosity come 100% personal — one where the value of the back around. And, in that way, bartering reflects exchange simply lies between the two trading the community spirit as a whole. When cash parties and nobody else. flow starts to trickle — as it often does during the winter — Outer Bankers bolster each “To me it’s less complicated,” says Rainey. “It other. They find a reason to share the wealth. can be liberating to not involve money. It Rainey had been an area volunteer for decades, opens up the possibilities.” Editor’s Note: The Rainey family is happy to report that Bela continues to make huge strides in her recovery and wants to extend their most heartfelt thanks to the Outer Banks community for their ongoing support. They could not do it without you. milepost 23
Hammocker Spender It’s winter and you’re broke. Since price is truly no object, we scoured bigdollar catalogs to compile a holiday wish list of high-tech items custom-built for local fun. If only you had the funds. Feast your eyes, circle your favorites then stick it under the tree. Maybe Santa will take pity on you. (Better yet, leave your credit card bill and ask him to pay it off.) Throw in some outriggers and board racks and you’ve got yourself a deal! With a fuel range of 160 miles and speeds of 70mph The Flying Hovercraft can reach the Gulf Stream or Hatteras in under an hour, handle winds up to 25mph and traverse waves up to six feet — not to mention “hop over obstacles up to 20-feet-high” — solving every access problem imaginable from endangered birds to failing bridges to slowpoke drivers. The only catch: a 600lb weight limit keeps carry-ons to just one surf bro — or a single bluefin. $190,000 • www.hammacher.com
Make doggie’s rest stop more restful. The ideal gift for old folks and germaphobes, The Dog Dung Vacuum sucks “pet waste into a disposable bag, eliminating the need to bend over and scoop excrement by hand.” Also sends a clear message to stinky neighbors who can’t remember to pick-up, no matter how many times their dog dumps in your yard. Just set it to “leaf blower” and return the favor. $99.95 • www. hammacher.com
Diver down! From pools to sandbars to shipwrecks to waterbeds (hey now!), the Digital Camera Swim Mask “allows you to take pictures and videos of all the underwater action handsfree.” Better yet, it costs half as much — and looks half as ridiculous — as that GoPro camera stuck on the nose of your funboard. (Sorry, somebody had to say it.) $99.99; www.sharperimage.com
She wants mozzarella sticks. You want cheeseburgers. You both want heart disease. Well, now everyone wins with the Deep Frying Portable Grill’s combo of golden grease and blazing blueflame. “A reservoir in the center fries up to four servings of chicken wings… while the cooking surface accommodates up to eight hamburgers.” Forget waiting in line at your favorite restaurant. Post up out front and order a box of poppers straight from the freezer. (Or just chase down the nearest Sysco truck.) $249.95 • www.hammacher.com
Never make your husband haul that cooler again. Ladies, you can always count on your man to handle two important beach chores: shouldering a heavy icebox across hot molten sand — and bitching about it the whole way. Well, with the Offroad Cooler Carrier’s “10-inch diameter pneumatic tires” and “polyester bed that holds up to 150lbs,” you can leave him at home all summer long. Better yet, pick up the “waterproof personal massager” on Page 126 and kick him out for good. $149.95 • www.hammacher.com
LOOKS LIKE A REAL CATALOG! Just in time for the winter party season! This Digital Measuring Spoon “easily converts from grams to ounces…” Perfect for that late-night host who can’t keep his measurements straight. And it’s just 39 bucks! (Price doesn’t include the cost of contents, jail time, rehab, divorce, lawyers — or generally dragging your whole life through the sewer.) $39 • www.sharperimage.com
Keep buzzing barflies away Nothing’s more noxious than a face full of tequila and tobacco smoke — except a blast of bugkilling chemicals. This lightweight Personal Mosquito Repeller “provides effective protection from those annoying, buzzing, disease carrying pests.” It also keeps your hubby perfectly safe. After all, who’s gonna hit on a dude wearing a dorky cell phone belt that smells like a citronella candle? $24.99 • www.sharperimage.com
Bomb hills in a blaze of glory. By day, Flexdex Lighted Skateboard’s “clearas-glass deck lets you watch the asphalt go by.” By night, “the whole neighborhood will see you going by for blocks.” And if you eat it charging the Wright Brothers Memorial, at least they know where to look for your cactus-ridden body. Not recommended transportation for breaking into cars, raiding rental houses or wintertime’s other “extreme hoodlum sports.” $179.99 • www.sharperimage.com
No licenses. No limits. No Lyme disease. The Duck Hunter Infrared Shotgun “does double duty, as it launches the duck into the air and three infrared direct hits from the shotgun brings the duck down.” The hard part? Training your “Tekno Robotic Dog” how to retrieve. (And finding a new way to keep college boys from sniffing around your teenage daughter.) $59.99 • www.sharperimage.com
James Bond meets Guy Harvey. This stylish Fish Finding Watch “transmits realtime fish views and water surface temperature,” making it perfect for any avid angler who doesn’t own a fish-finder — just wants first dibs on his buddy’s boat. The bad news? It also keeps track of time, eliminating the most obvious excuse for missing jobs, dates and deadlines. $139.99 • www.sharperimage.com
EURE CRAZY Glenn Eure’s most dazzling display isn’t his artwork — it’s his spirit Hula prizes. Smart-ass self-portraits. Plaster casts of cute girls’ butts. These are just a small sampling of the antics — no, scratch that — the achievements Glenn Eure may lay claim to in any given conversation. Sure, official honors for the beloved 81-year-old artist include “Living Legend” and “Decorated War Veteran.” But the war stories he tells most often — the victories he revels in with the greatest enthusiasm — are tales of rugged individualism and ribaldry waged on these fabled shores over the past 40 years. Golden nuggets of local lore sure to entertain, educate and endear. All told with an infectious grin and anchored by four simple words: “It…was…a…hoot!” Like the time he won the “Ugly Bunny Contest” thirty Easters ago — then took his rabbit ears, cottontail and wife’s swimsuit bar-hopping, handing out chocolate kisses to random strangers. Or when he boarded a plane to Kuwait just days after Saddam Hussein invaded Iraq to help syndicated cartoonist Barry McWilliams document the first Gulf War. Or when he celebrated turning 80 last year with a hang-gliding flight. Even his fable of falling in love with the Outer Banks as a 41-year-old college student is pure Eure.
A character study in local characters “every person, I suppose, has their eccentricities but in an effort to be normal in the world’s eye they overcome them and therefore destroy their special calling.” — Charles Bukowski Don’t have to worry about that here. The Outer Banks makes it easy to be a little odd. Some might say too easy. A place where personality’s a virtue; pretense a sin. Where we may not all be normal. Or neat. Or necessarily nice. But we do tend to be ourselves — and stay ourselves. The following three stories represent some of the nobler examples of life done differently. One’s a well-known artist and rascally raconteur who’s left permanent marks on the community. Another’s a native who spent half his life a quiet contractor and family man — the other half harboring an automotive obsession. The third is someone you probably never knew lived here — yet remains instantly recognizable for her world-famous figure. None of them intended to be “eccentric.” Or “weird.” They simply followed their internal compass to its most logical place. In the process, they set a course that’s changed their lives forever — and made the lives around them just a bit more interesting. (And that’s saying something in this town.)
“The park service superintendent came to ECU and recruited six of us in ’73,” he recalls. “No pay, but everyone had their own silver-bullet trailer down at Coquina Beach. We looked like a bunch of gypsies doing paintings and fish prints for tourists. We printed a 600-pound marlin using black ink and tableau paper; the guy took the relief home and papered his wall!” Glenn came back the next summer to impersonate John White. And in 1975, he began impressing himself on native culture full time. After a failed stab at running a dive store, he opened shop as “the Barefoot Printmaker” and slipped right in with the other dreamers and ne’er-do-wells — art scene fixtures like Louis Mesa, Jesse Morales, John De La Vega and Steve Andrus. By night, they’d hole up inside Sam & Omie’s to debate famous masters. By day, they created masterpieces and made mischief, usually out in front of the recently departed Tanya’s Ocean House Motel. “We used to get tourists to press their faces in the sand and make plaster casts,” he says. “Well, one day we’ve got a good crowd going, and this pretty little lady walks up half-looped. She says she wants to do a butt cast. And when we washed the sand off…well, lets just say it was one telltale cast. [laughs] Talk about weirdoes — I hope there’s some folks coming along who enjoy themselves as much as we used to.” Probably not. At least not like Glenn does today. Watching him work a room is a lesson in turning disarming charm into daily joy. Personal space is a myth. Polite conversation’s for suckers. And if you’re too stuffy to join the fun, then you’re the one who’s missing out. “He’ll start by talking to the table next to him,” says Pat, his wife of 33 years. “Then the next. And by the end of the night, everyone in the restaurant is talking to everyone else. It’s a real gift.” His most infamous practice is handing out personalized sketches. He always has a few black-and-white prints ready for a red-marker touch-up. Boys get a pirate. Girls get a damsel and a rowboat. No matter a lady’s age or marital status, he’ll add a name to the transom and write ”Eure beautiful!,” which is always good for a giddy laugh — at least from the wives. The husbands? Not so much.
Gallery rogue. Photo: Crystal Polston
“I do get that look of irritation sometimes,” he admits. “And I love it.” Little do the begrudging hubbies realize this red-hatted rake is also a tireless community servant who’s earned North Carolina’s second-greatest civilian honor: the “Order of the Long Leaf Pine.” That he designed the art and raised funds for Kitty Hawk’s “Monument to a Century of Flight.” Or that he spent eight years carving out all fourteen “Stations of the Cross” for Holy Redeemer Catholic Church. “Some people laugh and call it Glenn Eure’s Redemption,” laughs Pat. “But while he may not necessarily be pious, he’s certainly spiritual.” Some might say inspired. Walking Ghost Fleet Gallery, the walls rival his anecdotes in terms of artful character and diversity. There’s carved wood and vibrant collagraphs. Stretched fabric with abstract expressions. Dark historical wood cuts. Friendly clowns. And fierce energy. Even the floor is a hodgepodge of old staircases and salvaged lumber. A floating foundation of “irregular pieces” that’s perfect for a venue that always makes room for new artists and
cutting edge exhibits — be it high schoolers, established names or his perennial selfportrait competition.
“Sure, I’ve done some odd stuff.” he boasts. “But it doesn’t seem odd to me; it seems natural.”
Glenn’s entries are easy to a spot. Just look for his signature red beret and oddball sense of humor. One honors Mad frontman Alfred E. Neuman with a gap-toothed smile. His “nude” submission? Let’s just say it’s a dangling commentary on male ego in the tradition of John Holmes. Meanwhile, a third poignantly connects transformation from military paratrooper to modern printmaker. And that’s the part of Eure’s tale that people find most perplexing: how can a retired Army major who served four tours of duty in Korea and Vietnam — who waged war, faced death and commanded soldiers — also be so silly and subversive?
While we’re talking, a prim young couple whisks in the Gallery. Glenn leaps up for a quick welcome tour. He points out some favorite pieces. Explains the differences between different formats. Adds some historical perspective. Then politely excuses himself. But not before suggesting they continue perusing the “Second Dimension” upstairs, home to the gallery’s most daring exhibits. This month, it’s interpreting nudes — some quite anatomically correct — including the same self-portrait where he took such enormous liberties with his manly physique. As they daintily climb steps he yells, “You can’t miss mine; it’s the one with the red beret!” — then winks as he waits for the intended reaction: a fully audible, redfaced gasp.
Not surprisingly Pat answers best. In the recently printed collection of her husband’s work, Glenn Eure: Artful Rogue of the Outer Banks, she says, “He’s a man who doesn’t recognize boundaries and doesn’t impose them on anyone else either.”
“I probably should be ashamed of myself,” he giggles. “But I’m not.” — C. White
And in that way, Glenn’s red beret is not just a symbol of military courage — but in having the courage to be who you are. No matter what. milepost
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One vintage vehicle might pass as a “hobby.” Two, a passion. But what do you call owning seven classic cars under a single roof? Or two dozen in the course of a lifetime? “I reckon you could say I’m obsessed,” says 76-year-old Radford “Rad” Tillett. “I’ve always liked old cars.”
Always. Even at 10 years old, the Kitty Hawk native had a hankering for Fords twice his age. By 17, he owned one. Nevermind, the brand new Chevy his dad bought him the previous year. One day, Rad saw a ‘31 Model A — just like the ones hot rodders raced out in California’s salt flats — licked his chops and made his purchase.
It’s a pattern that’s only grown stronger. Tillett reckons he’s owned around two dozen old autos over the past 60 years — including five ’32 Fords. What remains still adds up to quite the impressive collection. To step inside Tillett’s two-story warehouse is to enter a pharaoh’s tomb of old-school fuel and ferrum unseen outside a Richie Rich comic book. (Or perhaps Jay Leno’s garage.) Orchestrated by the most cordial character you could hope to meet. His cars may be flashy, but Rad himself stays as humble and cool as his faded jeans and collared shirt.
2002 — 2012
Somewhere deep in Kitty Hawk, Rad Tillett’s built a secret temple to classic cars
“Man, I wanted that car,” he recalls. “I had to sell it when I went into the Coast Guard, but I bought a ’32 Ford when I got out. Kept that up until the ‘70s — sold it and bought another. That’s how it goes: you sell this one to get that one.”
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“It’s just a bunch of junk,” he chuckles as he cracks the door. “Junk I like.” Junk he loves. Start with seven shiny machines parked in perfect symmetry, spanning 60 years — Model T’s to T-Birds; military Jeeps to Detroit muscle. Scan the perimeter and time screeches to a halt with still more vintage items lovingly stacked and displayed in a collective testament to the addictive power of pure nostalgia. Inch-upon-inch of oil cans and gas nozzles. Signs and swag from fuel companies long defunct. Everything that makes a motor run — or makes a driver want to hit the brakes, from a working stoplight to a full-size phone booth to a jukebox piled with 50s platters. (One of which played in the old Nags Head Casino.) He even owns what might be the first gas pump on the whole Outer Banks. “If it weren’t the first in the Village, it’s the second,” says Tillett, as he describes the innerworkings of an eight-foot red Shell pump. (He also owns six more pre-70s designs.) “That one was made between 1916 and 1923. My friend had it for 20 years. He was gonna restore it but then he decided he’d rather let me do it. It’s been taken apart, sand blasted, painted and put back together.” Most days you’ll find the retired contractor out back doing something to keep his machines running smooth. Some, like the Army jeep, required a complete restoration. (It took 3rd in the Charlotte car show three years ago.) Others just need a tune up. Rad knows the best hobbies let you get lost in wasting hours. Still, his preferred method of killing time remains the same: by running it over at maximum speed. “Fixing them’s fun,” he says, “but my favorite thing is to drive them.” For proof, look no further than his 1932 Roadster. Not only was it Ford’s top-of-the-line model brand new, the rag-topped rumbleseater was a go-to ‘50s favorite for racing hot rodders. Rad bought and sold four other ‘32 Fords just to get to this one — once he even traded a spec house as part of the deal. When he bought it at a car show in 1997, it had just won a National prize. The next year, he entered again and added a Senior National title. All he had to do was keep it housed, keep it running and not drive the damn thing and he could’ve won a Grand National award the following year. So what he’d do? “I started driving it,” he giggles. “I guess I’d rather drive them than have another trophy.”
“Rad” doesn’t begin to describe the man and his collection. Photo: Chris Bickford
These days, each car gets a weekly spin. And when he’s not driving them, or fixing them, he’s living them. Every month he goes to car club meetings or dinners in Virginia. He’s also participated in nine Glidden tours, congregating with collectors in various states. And no matter where he’s headed, his wife Margie rides shotgun, anxious to see the old-school autos and lifelong friends. Fact is: she’s almost as obsessed as he is. After all, you can’t be married to someone for 58 years without catching the bug. “Well, I had to didn’t I?” she laughs. “Or else I’d be left behind!”
and attention, each has its own personal appeal that’d be difficult to part with. The 1923 Model-T he’s owned the longest; he and his father picked it up in 1962. The ‘56 Thunderbird is his newest toy; he bought it off a friend a few months back — but he’d longed for it since the second he laid eyes on it fifty years ago. The ’42 Jeep? Well, that’s Margie’s. Made the same year her father died fighting in WWII. And the ‘58 Oldsmobile is a lavender memory to the couple’s 2003 cross-country trip on the old “Lincoln Highway”— once the only road connecting New York to California. Even the late 70’s Oldsmobile and Pontiac were gifts from fellow church members who “knew I’d take care of them.”
Each year, they attend the two big shows in Charlotte and Hershey, Pennsylvania. (This fall marked Rad’s 38th straight Hershey visit.) For four days he’ll visit with fellow car nuts. Maybe pick up a new collectible item or two. He doesn’t enter his cars anymore, but he still eyeballs the competition — and possibly his next big purchase?
With every story, you get the sense Rad enjoys sharing his cars’ histories and quirks as much as speeding them up and down Kitty Hawk Road. In that way, they’re as much family as fuel machines. Which begs the question: is there any car from the past 60 years he really misses? One he looks back and wishes he held onto forever?
“Nah, no more cars,” he says, “I’m satisfied. I’ve got seven now— and nobody can drive seven cars.”
‘”Sure,” he grins. “All of ‘em.” — Matt Walker
Besides, buying something new would require selling one he’s got. And after so much time milepost 29
Holiday and Sweetheart Specials at the Gallery November - February
* Christmas Art Party Dec 8th in Manteo
For Cathie Jung, owning the world’s tiniest waist is no big deal
* OBX Songwriter Night Dec 20th at Kelly’s * Frank Stick Memorial Art Show @ Glenn Eure’s Jan 26th - Feb 22nd
www.darearts.org Mary Basnight photo
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It’s early fall and Bob and Cathie Jung are preparing for a winter trip south to the warm waters of the Bahamas. Bob is a USCG licensed boat captain and retired orthopedic surgeon; Cathie his doting first mate of 53 years. In 2006, they left their home in coastal Connecticut to enjoy the Outer Banks fishing mecca full time. Perched in a top-floor condo at Pirate’s Cove, discussing details and timeframes — grandkids and family visits — they sound no different than the private boating community’s other older residents. You might even say they’re ordinary. Until you check their prep list: fuel, food, fishing gear, life vests and corsets….lots and lots of corsets. “My grandmother wore them,” Bob suggests as to the possible first memory of the wasp-waisted, Victorian style. When Bob and Cathie met at Tufts University as undergraduates, she wore girdles, typical fashion in the 1950s. Bob encouraged Cathie to start trying corsets to accentuate her stunning figure and they both fell in love with the hourglass effect. By the time they were married in 1959 Cathie was wearing a 22inch design. Today, she holds the Guinness World Record for Smallest Waist on a Living Person — 15 inches inside the corset to be exact. “I don’t even notice it,” she says. “It actually feels strange not to wear one.”
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That’s because, with the exception of three pregnancies, Cathie’s been wearing one for half-a-century. But it took a trip to Europe in the 80s — where she met other likeminded enthusiasts — for Cathie to really feel comfortable. The couple became a part of “Les Gracieuses Modernes” (LGM), a group dedicated to the fashions of the Victorian Era and the appreciation of the elegant female. They began jet setting to England and Germany to take part in the society’s grand ball, where every year women dressed in the finest of evening wear, comparing sizes and styles in silent competition. And every year, the ladies’ waists grew smaller, the result of “tightlacing,” a practice of slowly reducing the size of the corset over time. Still, what’s accepted in the middle of a European gala of vintage culture can look odd on the streets of modern America. While attending an event for the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York, CNN spotted Cathie and filmed her dainty midriff. This led to the local news circuit in Connecticut picking up the story. Article requests began to flood in. One day the Jungs received a call from the Guinness Book of World Records. “The previous record holder had recently died,” Bob explains. “They were looking for a replacement but we said no. We didn’t want Cathie’s waist to become known only for being weird.” It took two years, but the couple agreed to meet the producers. In 1999, they honored Cathie with the official record. One she maintains to this very minute. Nearly every minute. With the exception of a few hours while fishing on their boat on hot, humid summer days (and, of course, bathing) Cathie wears a corset virtually non-stop. What about daily life? As for her diet, she eats normal food — just smaller and less frequent meals. And while the corset restricts a certain range of motion, Bob says there are no longterm health problems.
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“It straightens the back,” notes the former physician, “protects and strengthens the spine. And the stomach and intestines are mostly hollow and can change in shape without causing harm internally.” milepost
Our skinny little island just got skinnier. Photo: Julie Dreelin
Of course, women’s bodies are built to handle even more manipulation and changes in pressure. And the Jungs are equally resilient to society’s pressures. They feel quite at home in small town Manteo. Those who know Cathie or see her on a regular basis barely notice; those who don’t, never stare with mouths agape at the grocery store. Over the years, Cathie’s dealt with every possible reaction, from New England whispers to photo ops with teenagers in a Texas mall. She says it usually depends on what state she happens to be in and — occasionally — the state of the people. “If alcohol is involved,” she says, “men sometimes casually put their arms around my waist.” And what an eye-catching waist it is. From leather to satin to silk to silver-plated, Cathie owns over 100 custommade corsets from around the world. (Bob finally made body models and shipped them to her favorite designers.) Meanwhile, TV producers flesh out the couples’ rich travel
life with first-class trips to Romania, Japan and the rest of the world. She’s also appeared on domestic primetime, including ABC’s “20/20” and “America’s Top Model.”
now!” Bob laughs.
As tempting as that sounds for a woman to purchase a brand-new wardrobe, it just doesn’t make sense. Nor would But while Cathie may stand out in a crowd, she’s not entirely it be “normal.” After all, by age 75, most people stick to a unique or out of fashion. (Other notable “tightlacers” certain style. Likewise, nearly all women take great pains to include sultry horror queen “Vampira” and Hollywood appear fashionable or more attractive, whether it’s trading diva/dominatrix Dita Von Teese.) And she’s not the most mom’s girdles for Spanx, injecting their chests with saline or extreme example either. That honor belongs to previous tattooing permanent mascara on their eyelids. At the end record-holder Ethel Granger, whose “smallest waist ever” of the day, Jung is still a lady who feels pretty just way she is was just 13 inches. and appreciates the attention. And the ones who aren’t so complimentary? Who call it “odd” or worse? Once upon a time, Cathie may have been tempted to tighten the laces another notch or two but, at this point, “They don’t bother me at all,” she insists. “It’s my way of life.” she could care less about the competition. She says she’s in — Natalie Wolfe no mood to go smaller and taller; nor is she inclined to “let herself go.” For one very practical reason: “All of her clothes are tailored to fit her at the size she is milepost 31
THE HEAT goshop IS OFF Surfing for prizemoney will never pay out like one good tropical swell
THE HEAT IS OFF Surfing for prizemoney will never pay out like one good hurricane swell.
Two winning faces from autumn’s gold rush: native son Sam Sykes (L); and the Sunshine State’s Gabe Kling. Photos: Matt Lusk
They couldn’t pay me to cover ECSC. Literally. When the oldest and richest professional surfing competition on the East Coast came to Virginia Beach this summer, I turned down writing assignments from three different magazines. Despite spending the past 15 years covering contests for various media outlets — despite the “say yes to everything” mentality required to survive as a freelancer — there wasn’t a pile of dough big enough to convince me to spend a week in VB battling ravenous pros in congested lineups… then hang out with the same guys who cut me off. Pretty ironic, considering that’s the whole concept of a pro contest to begin with. Following ECSC, the Bud Light Lime Surf Series Labor Day Cup offered top-shelf professional athletes from all over the world righteous bucks — $1000 each — to come shred my home turf. I didn’t cover that one, either, but the big boys certainly made the trip: Everyone from Hawaiian World Tour vets (Fred Patacchia and Kalani Robb) to Blue Crush cameos (Keala Kennelly and Kala Alexander) to a single South African (Damien Fahrenfort) all came for the cash. The smart ones stayed for the waves. Really good waves. Within 24 hours of crowning Gabe Kling champion in relative dribble, the first tropical pulse arrived. Ultimately, Hurricane Leslie lit up a smorgasbord of Dare County sandbars (some of which never existed before or since) with six days of clean, overhead, long-period groundswell. I could count a hundred sponsored athletes in local lineups, and at least twice that number in underground regional dudes who swarm every time it’s chest-high. Not to mention dozens of photographers and video guys, plus all the girlfriends, groupies, coaches, managers, bros and actual brothers that compose any respectable entourage. Factor in former World Champion CJ Hobgood’s “Camp Hobgood” initiative in Avon, California-like beachbreak in Town, a Cloudbreak-like outer bar off Oregon Inlet, a Kirra-like tube bonanza at Pea Island and a Pipeline-like injury toll in Hatteras during a single 24-hour milepost
period in September — and the Outer Banks was the most exciting place in the world for a surfer to be. Over the next two weeks, Leslie generated enough media coverage to make the Visitor’s Bureau soil their boardshorts. The sport’s premier website, Surfline.com, repackaged the Leslie clips and coverage into no less than four separate stories — for more than 200,000 sets of eyeballs. (By comparison, the Labor Day Cup only managed 13,000 page views.) They even streamed live footage of one Pea Island session to the entire free world. Suddenly, local boys had contacts from California, Hawaii, all over the East Coast and beyond blowing up their cell phones: “You out in this?” All of them suddenly frothing to fly over here next Hurricane Season. No contest necessary. Of course, this concept runs contrary to the decidedly Field Of Dreams-esque ethos that drives the off-season tourist economy: If you package and hype it, they will come. This fall saw weekends stacked with music festivals, fishing tournaments, heritage days and foot races. All dangling the same carrot: Pay a fee. Take a shirt. Hope for a trophy. And pray for good weather. Surfing’s the opposite: The weather is the event. Humans attend by the busload. They all get watery prizes. And they all pay to play — buying gas, food, booze (lots of booze) and a myriad of intangibles. Surfrider Foundation Environmental Director Chad Nelsen studies “surfonomics,” an offshoot of natural resource economics that seeks to quantify the worth of waves, both in terms of their value to surfers and businesses. According to a recent Washington Post story, Nelsen’s 2008-09 Surf-First survey calculated American surfer demographics and economics through an Internet-based questionnaire, and found the mean expenditure per surfing visit to North Carolina was $63. Not a lot of money until you multiply that number by 500 surfers over six days to get $189,000 (more than either the ECSC or Labor Day Cup payouts). This proves that no matter how many resources local sentinels and out-of-bounds fat cats pull together to boost visitor numbers, one
swell from a benevolently distant hurricane is more rewarding than six-figure prizemoney at a prestigious, invitational competition.
HURRICANE Leslie alone generated enough media to make the Visitors Bureau soil their board shorts.
Not to discount contests. They’re fun. (Volcom’s free Cooterfish Surf Series is a big kiddy pleaser.) They bond communities. (The ESA Eastern Championships is a near half-century tradition.) And they fill local pockets. (Hurley and WRV laid 30 grand on the field at the Outer Banks Pro.) But even the richest contest is secondary to our infinite prize purse: the ocean. So long as storms keep brewing like they do here, and waves keep breaking like they do here, a huge part of our flaccid-season economy will remain erect through the sad times.
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Meanwhile, local dogs will just use these invasions to get clever. We’ll find sneakier ways to navigate the human traffic — avoiding the “star bars,” dodging the cash comps — to bask in that pure, idyllic Outer Banks experience that keeps us dug in like Stumpy Point ticks. I’ll never forget seeing Hawaiian hotshot Kalani Robb selfishly burn KDH kingpin Billy Hume on a boiling set wave during the Leslie swell. Nor will I forget the words I heard from an astonished local floating beside me: “I can’t wait for winter.” Me neither. Not just because there’s fewer dudes around, but because we all know that’s when the waves here get really, really good. Even with all the hypothermic headaches that come with coldwater surfing, you couldn’t pay me to leave. — Matt Pruett
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THE THRILL OF THE HUNT Vintage and thrift stores offer exotic game for adventurous shoppers
There are places tucked away from the everyday eye. Hideaways of treasures collected and cached, and people with an innate itch to uncover every last inch. Once the domain of yard sales, attics and the local Goodwill, a growing trend of stores selling pre-owned items offers a uniquely personal and fun approach to shopping. In a world where big chains dangle “must-have” brands and “last chance” sales events, the joy in buying vintage or thrift goes beyond saving cash or conspicuous consumption. It satisfies the innate human desire to explore and self-express. It’s the thrill of the hunt.
The magic is not in buying new Vinson, who managed Hotline Pink for 14 things, but in years, knows a thing or two about the value of secondhand. “Back in the ‘70s when polyester was discovering in, I couldn’t stand the fabric so I’d go to thrift shops things that and buy guys’ cotton t-shirts,” she says. “Finding it and making it my own enticed me more.” speak to you. “I used to pick through trash piles. Isn’t that terrible?” laughs Victoria Vinson, the bright-eyed owner of Vivi’s Five and Dime in Kitty Hawk. “It’s amazing what people will throw away.”
The magic of shopping vintage is not in buying new things, but in discovering rare artifacts that speak to you. Vivi’s is a cozy and eclectic store full of such items, from antique dishware and linens to furniture, old canning jars and a pair of bright red heels. “Aside from being unique, something from another era has a piece of history to it,” reasons Maria Daniels, whose Roanoke Island apartment is furnished in finds from Vivi’s and elsewhere. “Whenever I peel in on two wheels to a thrift store, I have the thought that I’ll find something I just cannot live without,” she continues. “It doesn’t always happen though, thank God. I’d hate to wind up on ‘Hoarders.’” No matter your level of obsession with vintage finds, there will always be an interest, according to Vinson. “Quality is always in style,” she reasons. “It’s always going to keep its value.” While many discerning thrift-lovers have done our share of searching through Hotline or other secondhand stores, the experience of finding “already been loved” items on the Outer Banks has evolved into something more accessible than ever. Today, everything from art galleries to clothing and kids boutiques are finding ways to resell and repurpose. Some even retool entire businesses.
Drape yourself in vintage charm. Photo: LWW
Enter Mom’s Sweet Shop. Part skate shop/ part vintage boutique with changing local art exhibits and, yes, even candy, Mom’s puts a fresh face on the vintage shopping scene. “What’s goin’ on?” greets Derik Wineland as a regular walks in. “Just addicted to your jewelry,” she says matter-of-factly, not looking up from the tray of one-of-a-kind pieces, earrings and pins that would look right at home on your grandmother’s dresser. Mom’s is a throwback to earlier times when its namesake — a KDH store called Mom and Pop’s Sweet Shop — sold ice cream and novelties within the same four walls during the ‘80s. Today, they give that same timeless charm a modern edge. “Nostalgia plays a huge role in the vintage shopping experience,” says Wineland, who runs things alongside his wife, Jessica. “A lot of people might not know what to do with it, but if you can narrow it all down and present it a little differently, it can be seen in a whole new light.” With all of the variety — from old-school skate decks showcased on the wall to shelves of vinyl, racks of clothing both vintage and new, and displays dripping with Jessica’s handmade jewelry — everything at Mom’s is united by the memory of good times gone by, and those still going. To explain the current interest in vintage, Wineland suggests that music’s influence on style plays a role. “A lot of hip-hop is reverting back to older styles,” he explains. “I think it’s helping people to look for that kind of thing. I love to see an 18-year-old kid come in here and buy records, something before their time.” As a younger generation catches on, the trend catches the eyes of much bigger brands. Think neon boardshorts from the ‘80s and 1920s-inspired lace dresses. “A lot of stores are carrying clothes made to look vintage now,” says Wineland. “But vintage shopping is not about the brand name.” Leslie Scudiero, a former stylist in New York City who’s been in the vintage business for over 30 years, agrees. “There’s so much trendy stuff out there that’s overdone,” she says. “You can go out and get something brand name that will last two months, but if you buy a vintage piece it’s classic.” Scudiero owns Something Old Something New, the largest vintage store on the Outer Banks. Several rooms offer cases of jewelry, baseboards lined with shoes, delicate hats stacked on shelves, and a section of sequined and beaded things that borders on hypnotic. Save for the colorful outdoor furniture and mannequins, the building’s white wooden siding and dusty parking lot give it the appearance of an old house. Inside, this treasure trove is as much museum as it is a store, which is all part of the allure. “I feel like I’m in a Barbie closet,” muses one shopper. And, according to Scudiero, that mix of innately familiar and self-mixed fashion is exactly why the vintage shopping experience will keep thriving. “You can find something no one else will have,” says Scudiero. “Something special. That’s why vintage works. And that’s why it’s no longer a trend — it’s a staple.” — Hannah Bunn
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TORTILLA endnotes FLATS
Twenty years ago this beach was a taco wasteland. Now you can’t swing a dead tuna without filling a shell.
Think like a local. Put your money where your heart is. Local business owners have a vested interest in your community. They live, play, work and pay taxes here. They care deeply about the well being of the local community, the vibrancy of downtown and the health of local schools. For every $100 spent at a local business, $68 stays local. Buy online and our community gets nada.
This Winter, support your friends and neighbors. Buy local. 105 Sir Walter Raleigh Street
In 1992, good Latin grub was virtually nonexistent on the Outer Banks. MexEcono’s was about to say “adios.” La Fogata was just starting to spice up the big road. Taco Bell’s combo of cheap-and-easy was B-grade at best. (B-minus were you to ask the KDH food inspector.) Obviously things have changed. Nowadays, if it swims in the ocean, flies over the sound or trots through a field, a local chef will find a way to cook it, spice it and shell it. We sent our ace starving writer to test-scarf the best locally grown tacos on the beach (no chains; Duck to Nags Head), armed with an empty notepad, a clear palette, an open mind and a full bottle of Pepto.
I almost began at La Azteca. Then I remembered Dare County law requires VB expats to live here three consecutive winters before being deemed local — businesses included. With their immigration status still in question, I proceeded directly to “Taco Tuesday” at The Pit to warm up with the poor man’s choice for hot and tasty.
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“Gimme your best taco!” I barked at the waitress (my standing order for every establishment).
“Gimme your best taco!” I barked at the waitress (my standing order for every establishment). Minutes later she returned with the “Employee Special” — hard-shell beef with a soft refried bean stuffed inside. You won’t find it on the menu, but it’s the workers’ choice behind the scenes. Sloppy. Salty. And sure to keep the blood sugar up when facing a night of cheapskate customers down to their last two bucks.
I murked it in 30 seconds flat before upgrading to my main course right down the road: Mama Kwan’s. The menu claims these fish tacos are “world famous,” but then again, doesn’t everybody say that? Marinated, blackened and sautéed in a citrusy cream, their Mahi was fresh as prom sin, and didn’t stand a chance against my appetite. Granted, it was not a “California fish taco” in the pure Baja style — which limits fish seasoning to salt, pepper, garlic and a light sprinkling of border check exhaust — but I’d soon discover that most plates on this beach are a far cry from Tijuana in both presentation and price.
The next day, Goombays changed the game with big chunks of Jamaican jerk-spiced tuna and six flour tortillas that instantly rendered all side dishes obsolete. Priced at $11.99, it was enough for three meals. I said “Rasta la vista,” put those leftovers in the fridge and hit up Chilli Peppers for dinner and a pair of pescado blunts. A heaping pile of rice and black beans underneath the fish created a Mount Foodmore illusion, but it didn’t fool me. However, I will say the Mahi was flaky and fried in the most classic California sense, and a chipotle aioli and fresh corn tortillas sweetened the deal.
Needing some familiar comfort, I raced south for Tortuga’s Lie. Their “Baja Fish Taco Platter” was among the first local plates to go loco. Stuffed with jack cheese, sliced cabbage, limeavocado dressing and sour cream (I hate sour cream), these tacos received bonus points for jalapenos (I love jalapenos). They weren’t the craziest but they weren’t boring either, just sort of in the middle — like Peter Brady in a festive sombrero.
Three amigos Photo: C. White
By now I’d had my fill of fins and gills; it was time for some shredded hog. Chasing rumors of an elusive pork taco up to the Outer Banks Taco Bar, I found a bonafide DIY eating establishment. They cook it, you top it. It may be worth mentioning here that up until now I ordered only Texas Pete or Tabasco with every dish, so as not to adulterate the experience. I flushed that psychology right down the toilet once I saw OBTB’s station of hot sauces, cilantro, limes, chopped cabbage and lettuce, Rosa sauce, chipotle salsa, salsa fresca, picked carrots, pickled onions, pickled japs, pickled date waiting at the bar for you… For a buck extra, I could upgrade to yucca fries and the pork and cheese were slapped on house-made corn tortillas. I was so pleased with this joint I even bought a “Choco Taco” for dessert.
“Pato” duck confit. (Too bad the restaurant closed just this side of tourist season.) So I drove around the bend to Red Sky for some “Tacos Suave.” They only come with two tortillas so you gotta pack ‘em fat, but the cilantro-lime cole slaw (red and green peppers, carrots, red cabbage, red onions, etc.) excited my color palette before I even dug in, like getting a lap dance from Roy G. Biv. In fact, the slaw alone would be worth the twelve singles the plate costs. You get to cut the chile-marinated and flat-iron-grilled fish yourself, and all the picky-eater pitfalls (guacamole, sour cream) come on the side — a picky-eater pre-requesite.
That wasn’t the only sweet treat I’d sample. With apple jicama slaw, roasted jalapeno aioli and roasted jalapeno salsa, Bad Bean’s “Pork Belly” invention was certainly the most unusual — living up to last spring’s Taste of the Beach buzz. Not too many places around here serve a la carte, but Bad Bean is one of them. Just $2.85 for a taste of the high life, and my per diem was still pumping.
Flying from a Red Sky toward a Blue Moon, I was more blown away by their motto (“once in a Blue Moon you get to taste life on a sandbar”) and the floral bed of savory frijoles y arroz than the actual tacos. I guess by this point, seared fresh Mahi with shredded queso was tasting almost traditional. (Or maybe I was just fishing out again like a sorority chick at a nitrous tank.) But all the friendly conversation with the wait staff and bartender — plus a few shakas from the kitchen — guarantees I’ll be back for another test run.
Naturally, this delusion of wealth and culinary depth led me to Duck in search of even more exotic cuisine — Coastal Cantina’s
The next day I crashed the other “Taco Night.” On Thursdays, Food Dudes offers fish, pork, beef, black bean, shrimp —
meticulously engineered to splice sweet and salty flavors and light up taste buds I never knew existed. I couldn’t decide on one, so I ordered the lot, sufficiently blowing my wad with one final blast of wasabi-creamed tuna. With two bucks left to spend, I decided to break my own law and “run for the border”… of Whalebone Junction. Now relegated from its north-of-French-Fry-Alley glory hole to this South Nags Head netherworld, the demoted Taco Bell splits its rent with KFC, but offers the same cursed cuisine as every other franchise. “Gimme your best taco!” I shouted one final time. The drive-thru monitor’s shrapnelly voice suggested the new “Doritos Taco” (aka the F*** My Life diet). Opening the greasy bag to a day-glo shell with tongue-piercing potential, I flashed back to the old MexEcono’s days and reflected on how much this beach has changed. When it comes to stuffing a tortilla with something fresh and original, our little Atlantic border town’s come a long way, niño. — Matt Pruett milepost 37
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soundcheck command major bucks, the Trio only plays free concerts and nonprofit fundraisers a few times a year.
In spring, the Vivaldi starts blooming. Come summer, look for patriotic, outdoor displays of George Gershwin and Cole Porter. And, of course, winter is the season to pump out Yuletide jams.
“We don’t do the whole ‘Nutcracker,’ but try to play some selections,” says Buford of their Jennette’s Pier gig on Dec. 9. “A little Bach and Handel — baroque always sounds good for the holidays — and of course, Christmas carols in a classical style.”
True to their teaching backgrounds, each set features discussions of unique elements and historical importance. And though some songs may be instantly recognizable, no performance is ever easy. Rock bands can cover mishaps with charisma and volume. Jazz gets so improvisational, a sour note sounds intentional. But classical compositions require flawless execution and seamless teamwork; simultaneously reading and playing tiny black dots off a page at the exact moment as the person beside you. Then interpreting the movements in the most personal way possible.
Look sharp; be natural. Photo: Brooke Mayo
SYMPHONY OF THREE Trio La Mer aims to keep classical music fresh and local
They move like trained assassins. Three figures with black cases and dark suits. Sweeping into the room to find their positions and aim their instruments toward a room of potential targets. Sure, it’s violins and music stands instead of sniper rifles, but both arts require decades of training, keen focus and deadly accuracy. Which is why Trio La Mer never misses a beat…well, almost never.
“We do a lot of laughing at the silly mistakes we make,” says pianist John Buford. “People listening probably wouldn’t notice but it’s hard to play at the level we used to in college. So this gives us a chance to try out some A-list stuff and see if our chops are still there.”
Not that they don’t get enough practice time. As the music teacher at First Flight Elementary School — and chorus director at First Flight Middle — Buford sits at his keyboard almost daily. Viola player Sue Waters has been a go-to instructor and wedding virtuoso for 16 years. And Leslie Erickson’s “Club Violin” books 150 ceremonies a season while privately teaching 45 students. Such day jobs may be fun, but they don’t let you play whatever you want. Or push your limits among trained artists of equal caliber. So when Sue suggested a “chamber music” passion project, all three willingly agreed.
“Our first recital was all Mozart,” Erickson recalls, “what you might call ‘top 40 classical’. We didn’t know each other that well, so we sort of put it together blindly. But the performance was electric. We were like, ‘Wow, maybe we’re on to something.’”
Six years later, they’re tighter than ever, which is hardly surprising considering their similar histories. All studied music from childhood through college. All are committed to lifelong improvement. In the big city, that would’ve meant finding chairs in an orchestra and facing a famous conductor before a crowd of tuxedos and evening gowns. Here, this symphony of three pares down complex compositions into delicate, daring arrangements — and a casual atmosphere — perfect for churches, art galleries and more intimate venues. And while Boston Pops types
They play with flawless execution, seamless teamwork and deadly accuracy.
“We don’t really talk about it, we just kind of feel it,” Waters explains. “Slowing things down, then speeding them up. Getting louder and softer. That expression is what people like about classical music. That’s what makes people cry.” But only if the performer feels just as emotional. And after a lifetime of exposure, even Beethoven’s “Fifth” can feel as repetitive as three-chord blues. Add a lot of traditional wedding marches — or cliché offbeat requests like “Star Wars” and “Another One Bites the Dust” — and the need to experiment grows even stronger. “Once we did ‘Sweet Dreams’ by Eurhythmics,” says Erickson. “But that only worked because we could all sit down, look at the arrangement and start playing.” Heading toward an April show with the Eastern Carolina Concert Society, Trio La Mer has their ears open to a wild range of strange options from “Bohemian Rhapsody” to a mid-‘50s Soviet composer named Khachaturian. (You think it’s hard to pronounce, you should try performing it.) But whether it’s the Beach Boys or some powdered bigwig from the 17th century, they say the fun comes from challenging each other to play new things — and challenging listeners to enjoy them. “To me, the best part about music is getting people excited,” says Waters. “Whether it’s seeing that look of ‘I can do this!’ on a student’s face, or having someone in the audience say, ‘That moved me.’ Just to reach people is a neat thing to give.” And an even neater gift to share. — Leo Gibson milepost 39
artisticlicense fooddrink endnotes questionauthority upfront soundcheck The “Manteo Blacksmith” plies his trade. Photo: LWW
SMOKE AND STOKE With each new fire, Randy Hodges rekindles the tradition of blacksmithing
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Black smoke billows out open windows. Embers cover the floor. Hammers, shovels and pokers protrude from the walls like torture devices. Great iron anvils haunt the in-between spaces like rock-hard phantoms. Standing in the midst of all this metal and fire is the KDH Cooperative Gallery’s Randy Hodges. With ash in his beard and soot on his fingers, Hodges is a veritable Vulcan on the side of the bypass. Operating a hand-crank blower to stoke the blaze, he burns soft, bituminous coal into coke — and eventually clinker — heating iron to anywhere from 1500 to 2000 degrees Fahrenheit. When he pulls out a piece, it turns incandescent and malleable, like plutonium.
“That’s the key to blacksmithing,” says the 59-year-old in a soft voice betraying his appearance. “Once it’s glowing, you can forge anything you want.” In past centuries, that meant just about everything: tools for carpenters, utensils for cooks, weapons for warriors. As recent as 150 years ago, blacksmiths were still indispensable to daily life, much like today’s computer technicians or auto mechanics. In fact, they basically were auto mechanics as specialized blacksmiths called “farriers” kept plows and carts running by pounding out horseshoes — then installed them with a velvet touch. “If you do it right, the horse won’t even feel it,” Hodges explains. “If you do it wrong, you’ll feel it.”
With ash in his beard and soot on his fingers, stands a veritable Vulcan on the side of the bypass.
But with the 19th century came the Industrial Revolution — and the Bessemer Process, a cheap and effective method for mass-producing steel, which is stronger and lighter than iron. Meanwhile, electricity, gears and machinery made enough power to render heat obsolete for the first time in history. Cars replaced colts. And the blacksmith joined coachmen and cowboys as nostalgic historical figures. Today, most members of the Artists Blacksmith’s Association of North America are professional tradesmen working in metal fabrication plants, machine shops and factories. Or they’re artists. Hodges is a bit of both. Raised around metalworking his entire life, he became a structural engineer in Northern Virginia, helping to build Arlington’s Crystal City, and inspecting buildings for DC’s Metropolitan Transit System (aka The Metro) before moving his family to the Outer Banks in 1994. After his wife started teaching and he got a job in Public Works, Hodges opened up shop as the Manteo Blacksmith. Later, he added a studio on the bypass in Kill Devil Hills, where he also conducts workshops and demonstrations open to the public. If he’s not in either location, he’s probably designing new sculptures in his home office overlooking the peaceful waters of the Roanoke Sound — or rummaging yard sales, junkyards and recycling centers to turn old junk into fresh fodder for his forge. Scrap pieces of iron become wine racks, fireplace tools or paper-towel holders. And it seems anything can become a bottle opener — from a railroad spike to bike chains to ordinary washers. A good portion of his art is both beach-themed and wry with a twist of, dare we say, irony, such as a horseshoe crab made of horseshoes or a turtle formed from an old soldier’s helmet. Four pairs of pliers become an eight-armed display called the “Octoplier.” A frightening tangle of tines produces the “Dietfork.” (Try eating with one, you’ll get it.) And while re-using old metal keeps costs down, he insists that’s not his goal. “I already had a good career,” he says, picking up the stretched clawed head of “Hammerman,” one of his more popular creations. “I saved up enough money to get all my kids through college. Now, I can do this for fun.” And that means doing it old-fashioned. While many modern blacksmiths have turned to propane, Hodges sticks to the traditional, low-tech approach of an authentic coal fire. He’s even donated much of his time and equipment to the blacksmith shop at the Island Farm in Manteo, a “living history” museum dedicated to recreating life on Roanoke Island in the 1800s. You can sometimes still see Hodges there, dressed in period costume, explaining techniques to visitors. As he pounds away on an anvil, sparks fly, metal clangs and fire blazes. And with each thundering, red-hot strike, a so-called dying art roars back to life. — Brendan Riley milepost 41
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They tell me he’s in the hospital with a perforated colon. I imagine a cartoon drawing of a large intestine with white dashed lines. Tear here. Slimy entrails like black electrical tape that keep coming and coming. As a girl, I remember him diving into the ocean. Swimming back, he would slap his speared catch on the picnic table, slip a delicate blade into the fishes’ silvery sides and open them like letters. Secret insides spilled out, primordial and pulsing. We used to plunge our fleshy little-girl-fingers into their gaping eyeballs, my sister and I. Once, from a slit in the gut, we pulled out some terrible organ like a strand of tickets from an arcade game. Now it’s his turn. Don’t worry, we tell him. This table has also held hundreds of bodies. This skilled hand carved dozens of noble, wriggling bellies. Finally, after much flopping and wriggling, he is calm. Unconscious, the fish is dreaming only of the sea. In a few weeks, he’ll return to its waters. Alive and well. His next catch won’t be so lucky. — Hannah Bunn
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endnotes Good gravy! Thanksgiving week is heaping on the hot live shows. Start with Port O’Call’s traditional two-day serving of fried-chicken chuckers, Southern Culture on the Skids (Nov. 23-24). Then add Outer Banks Brewing Station’s three-course cornucopia of musical soul food (Yo Mama’s Big Fat Booty Band, Nov. 23), banjo grease (Big Daddy Love, Nov. 24) and psychedelic prog-jam (Zack Mexico, Nov. 25). • On Nov. 22, run your giblets off with a trio of strategically placed Thanksgiving 5Ks. The 17th Annual Turkey Trot starts at Scarborough Lane in Duck at 9am to benefit the Outer Banks Cancer Support Group. The 4th Annual Outer Banks Gobbler 5K and Little Giblet Fun Run starts at 8am in Nags Head Village to help Food For Thought. (Go to www.outerbanks.org for details on both.) And the inaugural Thanksgiving Day Surfin’ Turkey 5K and Drumstick Dash Fun Run presented by the Hatteras Island Youth Education Fund and OBX Go Far will loop around Hatteras Village. (Register Nov. 21 at Blue Pelican Gallery, 12-7pm; or Nov. 22, 7-7:30am, at Hatteras Village Civic Center.) • On Nov. 24, be at Sanctuary Vineyards from 12-4pm when The Big Curri-Shuck shells out AUCE oysters and steamed crabs, plus vino, live music and a signature glass. ($20 in advance; $30 day of — or $50 per couple.) And starting Jan. 4, free jams flow every Fri. night, 5-9pm, with Winter Acoustics. Visit www. sanctuaryvineyards.com for details. • Catch a trophy-sized meal at Jennette’s Pier’s 2nd Annual Redfish Saturday tournament on Nov. 24, 7am-1pm. Prizes for red and black drum, bluefish, striped bass, flounder and more — plus fee-based learning programs to keep bored kids busy. $15 for adults; $8 ages 13 and under. More at www.jennettespier.net. • Still not stuffed? On Nov. 23-24, Island Farm in Manteo interprets 1850s fall food traditions like hearth cooking and food preservation to show how families survived local winters. Bring a nonperishable item for the Roanoke Island Food Pantry and save $1. (And come back Dec. 8, 5-8pm, to recreate an 1850s Southern Christmas.) Deets at www.theislandfarm.com. • Donate money or nonperishable items for the Beach Food Pantry at Harris Teeter through Nov. 30. And you can always leave extra helpings at the Food Lion and KDH Library. More at www.beachfoodpantry.org. • Lighten up with two Kitty Hawk Kites events at Jockeys Ridge, Nov. 23-24. First, Hanging With Santa delivers everyone’s favorite fat man for photo ops (10am-2pm Fri.; 1-6pm Sat.) Then, Kites With Lights starts glowing at 4pm Sat. You bring a flashlight for walking the dunes after dark; they provide hot cider and cookies. Email questions to email@example.com. • Stained glass, driftwood, fabric, pottery — Santa comes in all forms at the Hatteras Island Arts and Crafts Guild Show, Nov. 23-24, at Cape Hatteras Secondary School. Fifty-plus artists guarantee unique gifts for that special someone. Or say “screw them” and get yourself something cool (like a green-bottle Grinch). • Tiny trees or shiny jewelry? Take your pick when Silver Bonsai’s Thanksgiving Open House kicks off the holidays, Nov. 23-24. (More at www.silverbonsai.com.) • Hotline Thrift Shops is already selling $1 raffle tix in support of that evergreen of annual events — 24th Annual Festival of the Trees — promising local items, live music and familiar faces. Be at Jennette’s Pier on Nov. 30 for a Rockin’ Christmas Party and Silent Auction; then on Dec. 1 it’s Santa’s Visit and Holiday Bazaar, 12pm-3pm, followed by the big Gala Holiday Social and Benefit Auction at 6:30pm ($50 a person). All proceeds help fight domestic abuse year-round. More at www.obhotline.org. • On Fri. Nov. 30 the Manteo Tree Lighting promises carols, vendors and plenty o’ holiday spirit along the historic waterfront. Then on Sun. Dec. 2, say “holy firetruck!” for the Manteo Christmas Parade’s downtown shuffle of vintage cars, candy-chucking elves, apple-dropping horses and a siren-wielding Santa. Deets at www.townofmanteo.com. • For evening fare, the 2nd Duck Yuletide Celebration offers nighttime shopping and tapas crawls on Fri. Nov. 30. Come Sat. Dec. 1, Santa kicks off the Town Green party at 3pm with live music, decorating contest winners and a lighting of the Crab Pot Tree. More at www.townofduck.com. • If you miss Santa in parade form, don’t fret. He’s booked a string of private gigs, starting with KDH’s Toy Gallery on Dec. 1, 8 and 15, while Mrs. Claus will host cookie parties on Dec. 5 and 12 (go to www.obxtoygallery.com for times). On Dec. 15, Kris Kringle brings his favorite red waders to Jennette’s Pier for “Fishing with Santa” 9-1am ($15 adults; free ages 5 and under). Or head west to the Cotton
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Gin’s Currituck Christmas on Dec. 15, 12-6pm for free refreshments and special discounts — plus Currituck Claus from 2-4pm (more at www.cottongin.com). And always find the full range of kiddie-pleasing events at www.outerbankschild.com. • Let there be lights! On Dec. 1, KDH’s Frog Pond goes green for 30 days by hoisting a 20-foot neon tree. Not impressed? Drive by the Poulos Home near Nags Head Woods for a display so brilliant it makes national news — and one eye-popping power bill. (So drop two-pence in the tip jar, Pixels of peace at the Poulos house. Photo: Matt Lusk
Ebenezer.) • Dazzle your ears when the 4th Annual Violins & Voices Christmas Concert fiddles its way to St. Andrews Episcopal on Dec. 1 at 7pm. The showcase of local talent and holiday sounds benefits The GEM Center Adult Day Services. Learn more at www. thegemcenter.org. • Trio Wine, Cheese & Beer will liven spirits this winter with free evening music every Wed., Fri., Sat. and Sun. And give your taste buds a trip with two months of Euro flavors — British Isles (Nov. 30-Dec. 21) and France and Belgium (Dec. 21-Jan. 11) — both featuring first-weekend lift-off events. Go to www.obxtrio.com for details. • On Dec. 6, Mom’s Sweet Shop displays local high schoolers’ visions of things to come with The Kids Future Artist Show. Call 441-MOMS for more on other “First Thursday” exhibits. • But what about First Friday? Dec. 7 sees Manteo’s last mom-and-pop powwow ‘til April. But Dare Co. Arts Council will keep its gallery openers tradition going, starting with the Holiday Small Works Show’s “100 Works Under $100” — plus sculptures by Russel Turner (thru Jan. 2). Other month-long shows include: Munroe Bell and Students’ “Recent Works in Painting” (thru Dec. 5); Douglas Brannon & Pat Hayward (opens Jan. 4); plus College of the Albemarle (group) and Susan Van Gieson (opens Feb. 1). • But wait, there’s more! On Dec. 8 everyone’s invited to the year’s biggest fun-raiser, the DCAC Christmas Party at the Manteo gallery, featuring lively music and a silent auction. And look for inspired creative beachside events with Open Mic Readings of poetry and prose at Glenn Eure’s Ghostfleet Gallery (Dec. 13, Jan. 10, Feb. 14), while the OBX Songwriter Showcase brings original artists to Kelly’s Tavern (Dec. 20, Jan. 17, Feb. 21). More info at www.darearts.org. • On Dec. 7, Corolla’s Holiday Illuminations lights up the Currituck Beach Lighthouse and the Currituck Heritage Park at 5pm, while the historic Whalehead Club decks its halls in 1920’s fashion — plus holiday piano by Gail Kunkel and festive songs by Currituck County Chorus, John Gratten, and Water’s Edge Village School (more at www.whaleheadclub.org). And show real spirit by dropping non-perishable food between Nov. 23 and Dec. 7. • Between eating sweets, making gifts and shining bulbs, you could spend the whole holiday at Elizabethan Gardens. Dec. 1’s Grand Illuminations ceremony kicks off more than a month of Winter Lights nights, featuring filaments displays, outdoor fires and festive cheer. On Dec. 8 learn to build centerpieces, bake gingerbread and shoot nature… with a camera. Plus you got three chances to see St. Nick: Dinner with
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endnotes Santa (Dec. 14, 6-9pm), Winter Lights with Santa (Dec. 22) and Thank You Santa (Dec. 29). For pricing, scheduling and more events visit www.elizabethangardens.org. • Get back to the past on Dec. 8 with Olde Christmas at Chicamacomico, a living history remembrance at the Life Saving Station (not to be confused with Jan. 5’s infamous Old Christmas at Rodanthe, which promises roasted oysters and a visit by “Old Buck” at the Rodanthe RWS Community Bldg.). For more, see www.chicamacomico.net or email clss@ embarqmail.com. • Also on Dec. 8, the coast’s tallest licorice stick — aka the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse — will host a free “Boys choirs will be boys choirs...” Winter Climb, 10am–3pm. All See Vienna’s famous musical export on March 2. little elves must be at least 42” tall Photo: LukasBeck.com and have a clearly displayed 2012 climbing permit. ( Just kidding.) But they must be able to handle all 248 steps by themselves. Call 252-473-2111 for more. • Then march your way down to Dec. 9’s Hatteras Village Christmas Parade. Starts at Teach’s Lair Marina at 2pm and ends at the Hatterasman Drive-In. Grand prize is $250. Email firstname.lastname@example.org for details. • Forget Rudolph. Go listen out for endangered red wolves at Alligator River Wildlife Refuge’s Holiday Howl on Dec. 8 at 4pm. Call 252-4754180 to reserve. • And do your own howling when Outer Banks Family Carols comes to Kitty Hawk’s Holy Redeemer Catholic Church on Dec. 16. Presented with the Eastern Carolina Concert Society, it features a brass quintet from the Va. Beach Symphony, but everyone is invited to come sing — just don’t miss the 3pm rehearsal. Email choirmaster Steve Blackstock at email@example.com for more. • Semper fly? On Dec. 17, the 109th Annual Celebration of the Wright Brothers First Flight returns to KDH to honor Wilbur and Orville’s groundbreaking achievements — plus Marine Corps aviation — with a special salute to NASA chief and retired astronaut Maj. General Charles Bolden. • According to some paranoid nuts… er, we mean historical researchers, the Mayan calendar says the world ends on Dec. 21. Get a head start on the screaming, fleeing masses with two races: the End of the World 5K on Dec. 21; and the Run into the New World on Dec. 22. Both start at Jennette’s Pier and benefit the First Flight High Soccer Program. Then, on Jan. 1 you can kick 2012 in the ass — and get yours in shape — with the Resolution 15K and Children’s Crab Crawl at Kitty Hawk Pier. Details on all three at www.fitnessouterbanks.com. • Or go out with a cold beer and tasty music. The Brew Pub’s End of the World Party on Dec. 21 stars Zack Mexico. Then come back on New Year’s Eve for the biggest balloon drop since that Red Bull dude fell from space. • Speaking of aliens, out-of-this-world guitar player Tim Reynolds and TR3 will blow your little mind at Port O’Call for a special $15 New Year’s Eve Dinner Dance. • No matter where you choose to install your first hangover of 2013, please party responsibly. No driving. No reckless midnight kisses. And no fighting. In fact, make that last one a resolution. (It’d sure be nice to make it through a year without someone getting stabbed.) •
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On Jan. 15 at 10am, the Whalehead Club’s Winter Educational Series brings UNCW’s Bill McLellan to talk about beached mammals while Vicky Thayer from NC DMF and Keith Rittmaster from the NC Maritime Museum present local whaling history. • And for those who’ve already harpooned their one true love, go to First Flight High on Jan. 18-20 for the 2013 Wedding Weekend & Expo’s grand display of flowers, photogs and banquet options. More at www.outerbanksweddingassoc.org. • Glenn Eure’s Ghost Fleet Gallery goes “K-thru-12” when Dare County Schools 2013 Art Exhibition runs Jan. 12-20, with a public reception on Sun. Jan. 13 (for more info contact Jennifer Hamrock at hamrockje@ daretolearn.org). After that, the 35th Annual Frank Stick Memorial Show shows the community’s adult side. (Not that kind of “adult,” you perv.) Get an eyeful of our finest local artists when it opens, Sat. Jan. 26, 6-8pm, running through Feb. 22. Contact DCAC for details at gallery@ darearts.org. • Speaking of the DCAC, the Southern Circuit Film Tour strikes back on Feb. 12 with Eating Alabama’s tale of a young couple’s return home to “eat the way their grandparents did — locally and seasonally.” Location TBD; more at www. darearts.org. • The Outer Banks Forum for Performing Arts brings Molasses Creek’s Ocracoke instrumental seasoning to First Flight High on Jan. 26. Then on Mar. 2, you’ll say “Bieber who?” when the world’s first boy band — the Vienna Boys Choir — bops into town (both shows start at 7:30pm; tix are $20 for adults, $10 for students). More at www.outerbanksforum.org. • And on Jan. 27, the Whalehead Club imports a Piano Performance Team of six Durham talents to tickle the ivories of their 1922 Steinway. Call 252-453-9040 ext. 223 for reservations. • Outer Banks Hospital’s Flights of Fancy to Tuscany on Feb. 2 will tickle all five senses with cuisine and culture. This annual black-tie gala spares no detail to raise funds for local care opportunities — this year’s goal being a wellness bus for screenings and outreach. For sponsorship and ticket info call 252-449-9183. • February and March are always abloom with fundraising balls. At press time, dates were still TBD but keep sniffing around for favorites like the OBX Relay for Life Womanless Beauty Pageant (www.obxrelayforlife.org) and the Children at Play Mardi Gras Gala (www.childrenatplayobx.com). Or just monitor the calendar at www. obxcommongood.org for a full range of events and support groups — plus every club from green drinks to HAM radios. • One thing we do know: the 9th Annual Freedmen’s Colony Blues Jam will be at COA’s auditorium on Feb. 8 with a “Locals Night Out” theme. Keep an ear on www.outerbanks.org for the full list of ripping homegrown players. • Last but not least, Happy Valentine’s Day! Keep loving your neighbors as much as legally possible. And before you write-off Feb. 14 as another BS holiday, think of all the single folks struggling to get lucky in wintertime — then make sure your special someone feels extra special. (Before someone else does.)
Outer Banks Milepost Issue 1.4