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©2013 Pinehurst, LLC

Nothing says Pinehurst like the Putter Boy logo. And at the Pinehurst Golf Shop in the Clubhouse, you’ll find him on just about everything. Pinehurst Golf Shop Pinehurst Resort and Country Club • 910. 235. 8154


January 2013 l

Volume 8, No. 1

Features

47 The Vineyard Road

Departments

7 Sweet Tea Chronicles Jim Dodson 10 PinePitch 13 Cos and Effect Cos Barnes 15 The Sandhills Muse Kira Schoenfelder 17 The Omnivorous Reader Stephen E. Smith

21 25 27 31 33

Bookshelf Hitting Home

Dale Nixon

The Kitchen Garden Vine Wisdom Life of Jane

Jan Leitschuh

Robyn James

Jane Borden

35 37 39 43 72 81 85 93

95 96

Out of the Blue Birdwatch

Deborah Salomon

Susan Campbell

The Sporting Life

Tom Bryant

Golftown Journal Lee Pace Sandhills Photography Club SandhillSeen Thoughts From the Man Shed

Geoff Cutler

SouthWords

Poetry by Jim Dodson

By Jim Dodson

48 Call Me Mr. Bates How a phone call led to a very proper affair of the heart

50 We Are Downton Abbey

As the acclaimed series returns for season three, we play dress-up in tribute to our favorite program Photography by Tim Sayer

Calendar

PineNeedler

Mart Dickerson Deborah Salomon

56 PineStraw Oral History Project

64

By Cassie Butler

Eight personal stories of life in the Pines

Homing Instinct By Deborah Salomon

The Lopez family is home at last

71 January Almanac Cover Photograph by Tim Sayer Photograph this page by Cassie Butler 2

By Noah Salt

Edible plants, a brush-up on the gods, and a month of sweet contemplation

January 2013 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


PineStraw M A G A Z I N E Jim Dodson, Editor

910.693.2506 • jim@pinestrawmag.com

Andie Stuart Rose, Creative Director 910.693.2467 • andie@pinestrawmag.com

Cassie Butler, Photographer, Graphic Designer, Writer 910.693.2464 • cassie@pinestrawmag.com

Kira Schoenfelder, Graphic Designer 910.693.2508 • kira@pinestrawmag.com

Editorial

Deborah Salomon, Staff Writer Stephen E. Smith, Staff Writer Ashley Wahl, Associate Editor Sara King, Proofreader Mary Novitsky, Proofreader Contributing Photographers

John Gessner, Tim Sayer Contributors

Cos Barnes, Jane Borden,Tom Bryant, Susan Campbell, Geoff Cutler, Al Daniels, Annette Daniels, Mart Dickerson, Robyn James, Pamela Powers January, Jan Leitschuh, Meridith Martens, Dale Nixon, Lee Pace, Jeanne Paine, Noah Salt

PS David Woronoff, Publisher Advertising Sales

Michelle Palladino, Sales Representative 910.691.9657 • mpalladino@pinestrawmag.com Terry Hartsell, 910.693.2513 Kerry Hooper, 910.693.2508 Perry Loflin, 910.693.2514 Peggy Marsh, 910.693.2516 Darlene McNeil-Smith, 910.693.2519 Johnsie Tipton, 910.693.2515 Karen Triplett, 910.693.2510 Pat Taylor, Advertising Director Advertising Graphic Design

Stacey Yongue, 910.693.2509 Mechelle Butler, Clay Culberson, Scott Yancey Circulation & Subscriptions

Darlene Stark, Circulation Director 910.693.2488

PineStraw Magazine

910.693.2467 173 W. Pennsylvania Avenue Southern Pines, NC 28387 pinestraw@thepilot.com • www.pinestrawmag.com ©Copyright 2013. Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission is prohibited. PineStraw magazine is published by The Pilot LLC

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January 2013 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


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SweeT TeA chronicleS

The hope list, 2013

BY JIM DODSON

owing to a pitiful track record on the matter, I gave up making New Year resolutions years ago. The last one I made was a vow to become fluent in Italian within two years. But drinking Chianti and learning to pronounce melanzane alla parmigiana correctly off the menu at my favorite Italian restaurant was about as far as I got.

Every year at this time, on the other hand, I find myself making a small and highly personal list of things I hope to see happen in the year ahead. Most would probably require Divine Intervention or at a minimum an act of Congress to transpire. Some are silly as all get out. Some are serious as a heart attack. But “hope” means to wish for something in expectation of its fulfillment, and in a universe that’s supposedly still expanding and evolving, I cling to the hope that perhaps hope really does spring eternal in the human experience. In any case, here’s my Hope List for 2013. More winter snow, less summer heat. When I was a kid it snowed several times during the winter and it was flat-out glorious to miss a day of school, eat radioactive snow and drive your mom up the wall. At the other extreme, of course, we now have global warming and brutal summer-long droughts. If summers keep getting hotter, I may soon be spending my summers in Finland, probably about the time I learn to order eggplant parmesan in fluent Finnish. More lazy Sundays, if you please. Impossible, I know. To begin with, we’d have to fool with the Julian or Gregorian calendars, which I can never really keep straight anyway, and that might mean the end of civilization as we know it, or the end of 60 Minutes on its regularly scheduled

night. For a crazy moment, though, just imagine if we had a pile of peaceful Sundays — a whole month of them, even! No day of the week makes me happier, calmer, or more glad to be alive than Sunday. It’s the only day I can be moderately sure, with the faith of a mustard seed, that the world is actually one fine place and I needn’t be so worried. A proper day of rest, after all, has been prescribed by every faith tradition since primal ooze, a day meant for folks to rest up and recharge their Energizer batteries, to connect with a kinder and gentler universe and be nice to small animals. Of course, Jews and some Christians believe the Sabbath actually falls on Saturday — a holy day in which no physical labor is permitted, only intellectual enrichment, which some scholars maintain is why there are so many fine Jewish doctors and lawyers. Even so, much of the world takes Sunday off to go to church, putter in the garden, read a newspaper or good book, take a long afternoon nap, attend a flea market or dress up like a Pittsburgh Steeler. Throw in Mom’s pot roast supper and — voila! — you have the perfect day. Which brings me to. . . The four-day work week. I know, I know. It sounds so, well, downright French. The very mention of a four-day work week probably fills your head with disgusting pictures of idle unshaven louts and feckless 40-yearold college students sitting around in cafés drolly arguing about Camus’ women, European football and the meaninglessness of human existence. But ask yourself, what are Fridays really good for besides getting paid and skipping out early from work to meet friends for Happy Hour or grabbing your clubs and slipping off for a quick nine when the boss fails to return from his or her three-martini lunch? So little gets done on traditional Fridays, I read not long ago, there’s a move to actually rename it “French Fry-day” in honor of all those café lay-abouts! The cure seems perfectly obvious to me. Shorten the work week and immediately embrace the threeday weekend, making 2013 an excellent time to switch to the 12-hour work day and four-day work week. Longer weekends for everybody! Viva la French-Fry Day! Municipal bird feeders. Seeing all the individually decorated Christmas trees along Broad Street in Southern Pines this year (the brain-

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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sweet tea chronicles

storm, by the way, of this magazine’s founder, one Andie Stuart Rose) made me think we should invite merchants and citizens to underwrite beautiful designer bird feeders and erect them along our village streets — making Moore, as it were, even more of a haven for beautiful songbirds. I saw this done once in a charming French village some years ago and it was stunning to behold, with birds zooming everywhere. The only thing I couldn’t figure out was why everyone was wearing pith helmets, until something landed on my head. Mon dieu. Make all national Election Days paid holidays. I’ve been hoping for this for donkey years. What better way to salute the wisdom of our forebears and reinvigorate our presently dysfunctional democracy than to give registered voters the incentive of a paid day off to do their civic duty? Moreover, let’s set up craft fairs and community bake sales and encourage high school bands and family reunions to take place at the voting precincts just to encourage the spirit of fellowship. No palely loitering candidates allowed within five miles! And while we’re at it, let’s ditch the Electoral College and go to a straight popular vote. One man, one woman, one vote. Just pull the lever and you’re done. Whoever the people demand, they get. No fuss, no muss, no more late night vigils waiting for Ohio’s 18 electoral votes to come in. We can all go out to grab supper and an early movie knowing we’ve done our constitutional best. Speaking of movies. . . Stop the 3-D movie madness. Clearly a conspiracy by Hollywood rich guys to pry three more bucks out of the moviegoer’s pocket, 3-D technology is about the only thing that hasn’t evolved in half a century, basically the same phony baloney technology that was around when I saw Attack of the 50 Foot Woman in 3-D in the early 1960s. The glasses give me a headache to wear. Plus, I look like a fat Martian eating popcorn when I’m wearing them. Send more handwritten letters, fewer emails. I spend all day pegging at a laptop and relish the idea of sending and receiving letters and notes from readers the old-fashioned way — by popping a stamp on a missive and sending it on its merry way on the back of a snail. This is such a beguiling notion, in fact, I’m half tempted to spend the coming year writing everything longhand, with an ink well and quill pen, perhaps even donning a Jeffersonian puffy shirt and powered wig like the founding correspondents. Problem is, I often get 150 emails in a day from people who are expecting a reply in minutes rather than days, which means my hand would fall off in no time flat and I’d have to learn to use my laptop with my toes. Enough already with the End of the World talk. Assuming you’re reading this, we probably survived the great Mayan Doomsday Prediction, which was supposedly set to happen on the third Fry-Day of December. (See what I mean? There’s so little going on most Fridays in America even the ancient Mayans decided it needed a global apocalypse to pep things up a bit.) Anyway, NASA’s top nerds (oops, I mean scientists) insist the chance of a killer asteroid striking the Earth or a wave of global earthquakes causing the poles to suddenly reverse anytime soon are, statistically speaking, roughly equivalent to the odds of your daughter marrying a Frenchman who plans to get a real job before age 40. In plain English, mon amis, “Not anytime soon.” Finally, and on a far more serious nature — my greatest hope, in fact, for the dawning Year of our Lord 2013 — in the aftermath of Sandy Hook, I dearly hope our nation may finally wise up and do something meaningful about gun violence and its root social causes. It’s hard to imagine the founders had a Bushmaster AR15 assault rifle in mind when they scribbled out the Bill of Rights, though the answer must be much more comprehensive than a simple strengthening of the federal gun laws. A thorough self-examination of our love affair with violence in our media and a new focus on youth mental health issues strike many as good starting points. We’re a nation that lives on the power of hope and renewal. On a kinder and gentler note, I hope your year may be filled with the kinds of things that make you glad to be alive and still evolving in 2013. PS

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PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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Rule No. 1: Don’t Chug It

Master the art of tasting small batch bourbon at The Sly Fox gastropub on Tuesday, January 8, at 6:30 p.m. One bourbon calls for two drops of room temperature water. Another begs for a splash of ginger. “Each bourbon has a unique flavor profile,” says Thaddeus of Sly Fox. “What you do to enhance one is different from the next.” See, smell and taste for yourself. Cost: $16. The Sly Fox Pub, 795 South West Broad Street, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1621.

The Last One

Be Strong and Soldier On

Sgt. 1st Class Mark Vomund, who was wounded by an improvised explosive device (IED) in Kandahar, Afghanistan, will share his incredible story on Wednesday, January 23, at 7:30 p.m. at Owens Auditorium, Sandhills Community College, 3395 Airport Road, Pinehurst. Ruth Pauley Lecture Series presentations are free and open to the public. Info: (910) 245-3132.

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Historian William Manchester had a plan. He’d tell the life story of England’s iconic wartime prime minster, Winston Spencer Churchill, in three volumes. The first two volumes were highly regarded, but the author died in 2004 before the third was published. Alas. He must have known his time was short, though, which is why he asked his friend Paul Reid to finish the third and final volume. The Last Lion: Winston Churchill: Defender of the Realm 1940-1965, was released in November 2012. Dine with Reid at the Country Club of North Carolina on January 30 and hear him speak about Manchester’s legacy and the height of Churchill’s legend, from World War II until his death in 1965. Cocktails begin at 6 p.m. (cash bar); dinner begins at 7 p.m. Tickets are $65, available at The Country Bookshop, 140 North West Broad Street, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-3211.

January 2013 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


Save Some for the Fish (and our Future)

Good as Gold

Gather at the Given Memorial Library on Thursday, January 10, at 3:30 p.m. to hear executive director Audrey Moriarty spin nearly 50 years of library facts and figures into a tidy little package, and find out what’s in store for the library’s Golden Anniversary celebration. Open forum with Q&A session will follow. Free and open to the public. Given Memorial Library, 150 Cherokee Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-6022.

cut here

To everything there is a season. Now’s time to prune. On Saturday, January 19, Moore County Agricultural Agent Taylor Williams will conduct a hands-on pruning workshop from 10 a.m. until noon in the Sandhills Community College Horticultural Gardens, 3395 Airport Road, Pinehurst. Prepare for shear delight. Info: (910) 695-3882 or www.sandhillshorticulturalgardens.com.

If you are reading this, chances are you woke up this morning and took a nice, hot shower. Perhaps you threw a load of clothes into the wash. Brewed a pot of coffee. Brushed your teeth. Any clue how many times you’ve turned on the faucet? Central Park NC presents Last Call at the Oasis — a documentary film that illuminates the vital role water plays in our lives and exposes the defects in our current system — at the Sunrise Theater on Tuesday, January 15, at 6:30 p.m. Featuring activist Erin Brockovich and such distinguished experts as Peter Gleick, Alex Prud’homme, Jay Famiglietti and Robert Glennon, the film presents a powerful argument for why the global water crisis will be the central issue facing our world this century. From the company responsible for An Inconvenient Truth, Food, Inc., and Waiting for “Superman”, Last Call at the Oasis is a “necessary viewing for anyone on the planet who drinks water,” says Christopher Cambell of IndieWire. Supported by Sandhills Area Land Trust, Sandhills Farm to Table Cooperative, Save Our Sandhills and Sustainable Sandhills. Tickets: $5. Sunrise Theater, 250 North West Broad Street, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8501 or www.sunrisetheater.com.

Glad we “Met”

Live opera, anyone? Catch the Met at the Sunrise Theater — in HD — twice this month, and consider bringing an extra seat cushion. Berlioz’s Trojan War epic, Les Troyens, is a five-hour production that follows Aeneas (Marcello Giordani) from the ruins of Troy to the North African kingdom of Carthage. And true opera lovers won’t want to miss mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato take on the virtuosic bel canto role of the doomed Mary, Queen of Scots in the second opera in Donizetti’s famous trilogy about Tudor history, Maria Stuarda. Take it from The London Times: “DiDonato’s voice is at present nothing less than 24-karat gold.” Les Troyens runs January 5 at 12 p.m.; Maria Stuarda runs January 19 at 12:55 p.m. Tickets are $25. Sunrise Theater, 250 North West Broad Street, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 6928501 or www.sunrisetheater.com.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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January 2013 P�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


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As i put her away for the

INJECtABLES

PhoTograPh by caSSie bUTler

year, I wonder if there will be another time, another tree, another Christmas.

She is 60 if she is a day. Holes have worn into her dress; one wing is missing. Her hair has always looked like we shared the same hairdresser; although mine is white, hers is still yellow. Clean living, I suppose. One wing is missing, yet the candles she holds shine brightly. Their bulbs have never been replaced to my knowledge. She has outgrown the tree. In years past, she was the crowning touch at the top of big trees. Now she is wider than the table trees that provide her habitat. In years past, she would lean, showing provocative knees. Now she stands straight as if determined to defy aging. And what she has witnessed. She could write a book. She was there when there was only one. She stood patiently while the pajama poses were planned. She was there the next year when a bungling toddler caused the tree to be mounted on the hearth with wire so he would not turn it over. She was there when two became three, and how she smiled when they danced around her and the tree. She was the first one awake on Christmas mornings when the children were warned not to go to see Santa until they awoke us. She dozed in the afternoon’s dullness while Mimi hemmed little skirts and made Barbie clothes fit. She sampled the confections from the Easy Bake Oven, had her hair combed and coiffed with Chatty Cathy, and cheered the skirmishes with G.I. Joe and his pals. She watched as teenagers replaced children. She dozed from her perch waiting for daters to come home. She enjoyed all the activity when presents were opened and each tried on the others’ clothes. She clapped the year all the girls received faux fur jackets. She welcomed in-laws as they began to come, then little people as our family grew and toys began to replace the clothes. She shed tears when the medal commemorating the donation to the eye bank was added. She cried again when the dried red rose was placed on a branch, then the heart-shaped ornament commemorating Mimi’s death took its place on the tree. She owes no service. She has served us well. The good news is Granddaughter Sarah has asked for her to grace her future tree. PS Cos Barnes is a longtime contributor to PineStraw magazine. She can be contacted at cosbarnes@nc.rr.com.

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PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P January 2013

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GI V E THE NEW Y E A R A B I G WA R M W E L C O M E . Ring in the New Year by giving yourself independence, security and peace of mind in a welcoming neighborhood of new friends and neighbors. Not to mention plenty of social opportunities to meet them. Make a resolution to visit our continuing care retirement community and discover our great living options and amenities. To learn more, call us today at (910) 692-0386 or (910) 692-0382. Visit us at www.penickvillage.org.

PENICK VILLAGE

A Continuing Care Retirement Community

500 East Rhode Island Avenue | Southern Pines, NC 28387 | (866) 545-1018 toll-free

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January 2013 P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


The Sandhills muse

Late Train, Good Coffee, Music to Our Ears By Kira Schoenfelder

Drawing by Kira Schoenfelder

Beginning an eleven-hour travel day

with a two-hour train delay was not the Sandhills Muse’s idea of a great way to kick off the holiday season, and nearly pushed two dozen souls waiting on the Southern Pines depot platform for the regularly scheduled 7:06 to the brink of a riot — or at least the onset of Grinchiness. My idealized version of romantic train travel home to the North for the holidays was now, momentarily at least, out the window. Fortunately, one savvy traveler received an update from his clever smartphone via an Amtrak app that gave us an updated departure time but set off buzzing phone calls, rolled eyes, exasperated sighs, and a slew of Amtrak app downloads. The only good news? Most of us arrived so early we’d missed that first cup of coffee. Thus making it all but impossible to organize said riot. When all else fails, goes the saying among working muses, find coffee. The delayed and disappointed Muse scanned Broad Street and spotted salvation less than one hundred paces away at Swank Coffee Shoppe. The platform briefly thinned out as other under-caffeinated travelers moseyed that way. Settling into a nice chair and a full-bodied brew, the Muse participated in various eddies of conversation, including a robust PC vs. Mac discussion that quickly evolved into full-blooded techie debate. As she waited for her slow train to New Jersey, the Muse enjoyed her java and was merely thankful to be perched on a much more comfortable seat than a hard wooden train bench. All trains eventually arrive. A train whistle suddenly blows and it’s hard to differentiate the non-stop twitch in my leg as excitement, anxiety, or simply the dire need to pee. In any event, it feels good to be boarding the train, to be off to the warm embrace of one’s family, but even better to be seated next to a nameless angel who prefers the aisle seat. Novel? check; window seat? check; daylight to read by and caffeine in the veins — check and check. Home, here I come, whispers the Sandhills Muse. Romantic travel expectations nicely restored.

prescribes herself live music for sanity, and, luckily, has plopped herself in a town full of numerous kindred spirits. Knight Street in Aberdeen, home of The Rooster’s Wife, answers the bill beautifully on Sunday nights and typically swarms with appreciative live-music fans. On a recent cold evening, the Muse arrived as close to “on-time” as any 23-year-old can be expected to. A relaxed BYOB policy calls for pinot grigio, discreetly smuggled in with an unassuming Nalgene bottle. As usual, the crowded house heightens all five senses simultaneously upon arrival, with the goose bumps that lingered into the winter night. “Why don’t we get him to saw one down?” Bluegrass songbird Claire Lynch called out to her fiddle player one Sunday after intermission. Oh yes, saw away. It’s this kind of casual dialogue between performer and audience, the give and take of musical whimsy and impulse, not to mention an old but reliable

couch cushion beneath your fanny, that makes you glad you’re alive. Closing your eyes may cause you to believe you have a little bit of Nashville in your own living room. And that’s the point. To close the evening, the Muse found herself out back singing “country roads, take me home, to the place, I belong . . . ” with guitarist Adam Ezra, another evening’s outstanding performer, trying and failing at not falling in love with his ponytail, good heart, and deep husky voice. All in a night at Rooster’s, making it one prescription that’s never a headache to refill. But watch out for the Jack Russell, Bert, the Knight Spot’s official head of security . . . PS Kira Schoenfelder is a graphic designer for PineStraw and O.Henry magazines.

Whatever else is true, the SM dearly

loves Sundays, when one can look forward to 6:46 p.m. and can count on a healthy dose of mandolin, and/or the fiddle, and — when super lucky — a bluesy harmonica. For the record, the Muse selflessly

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Author EvEnt

Meet Paul reid Paul reid, a former feature writer for Cox newspapers, completed The Last Lion: Defender of the Realm, William Manchester’s long anticipated third volume of his best-selling biography of Winston Churchill after being asked to do so by Manchester, just one year before Manchester’s 2004 death. Meet and hear him speak on

Wednesday, January 30 Cocktails 6:00pm Dinner 7:00pm at CCnC, Pinehurst $65 per person (Includes a copy of The Last Lion: Defender of the Realm) tickets can be purchased at the Country Bookshop

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The OmnivOrOuS reAder

dining with Giants With unapologetic nods to Gatsby and Garp, murder — and gourmet eating — sometimes happen

By STePhen e. SMiTh

david “Lizard” Hochmeyer

is 18 years old, nearly seven feet tall, a natural athlete, a gifted student, and the obsessive narrator of Bill Roorbach’s latest novel, Life Among Giants. He lives in a quirky universe of subterranean secrets where reality has a nasty habit of slamming him full in the face when he least expects it. Take, for example, the matter-of-fact murders of his parents, which opens the action and sets the tone for this captivating literary detective story: “Smoothly, the man pulled a large black handgun out from under his jacket, the barrel of a black hole sucking in everything. He aimed it casually, pulled the trigger, shot Dad in the face, shot him again in the chest. The bang didn’t seem loud enough to be real. I thought it was all a joke, had to be a joke . . . My mother made an impossibly slow hop, caught Dad as he was falling, fell with him in a blooming mound of their nice clothes . . . And then, and then, and then, as I was making my hop toward them, the man shot her, three bullets, three pops, efficient trajectory, making sure my dad was dead, that’s all: Mom was just in the way.”

And that’s how it should happen — bang bang bang. Roorbach’s instincts as a storyteller are right on the money: No enormous explosions, horrendous reverberations or eye-smarting gunpowder, just the pop of the gun and the sudden and absolute demise of the parents, the surreal incident understated and unsettling. Thus the reader is dragged into a mystery that twists through the fantastical life of Lizard, a tale of love, revenge, death and redemption, a life in which he is surrounded by giants. The Hochmeyer family lives in Connecticut next to the High Side, a Gatsby-like mansion populated by celebrities of many nationalities — the postmodern internationalization of the Fitzgeraldian dream — and which is the home of Sylphide (ballet aficionados will grasp the allusion), the world’s greatest prima ballerina and the widow of Dabney Stryker-Stewart, a millionaire rock star who dies in a suspicious car accident well before events begin to unfold. In the coming-of-age segment of the novel, Lizard progresses through high school, undergoes the requisite sexual experimentation, and experiences to the full the often perplexing world in which he exists. If he’s puzzled by what he observes, he’s naturally and persistently inquisitive, keenly intelligent and minutely observant, occasionally to the frustration of the reader who is smothered with sometimes superfluous detail. Lizard’s older sister, Katy, is a student at Princeton, where she cohabitates with her professor and future husband, Jack, and stars on the tennis team. Her erratic behavior — “She spanked a line judge with her bare hand, bent him over, pulled down his shorts, and walloped him, film that made the evening news” — is a precursor to the bipolar disease that will plague her throughout the novel. The central portion of Lizard’s story qualifies as a Garp knockoff, the funny-sexual-serious-sad plot twists and the bizarre yet realistic characters are ringers out of Irving’s masterwork. Lizard is a football star for the Miami Dolphins and something of a celebrity, although he never emphasizes his fame to the reader, and he pals around with the requisite transvestite — wasn’t Garp’s Roberta a former Philadelphia Eagle wide receiver? — and finds himself in situations that immerse the reader in a world too strange to

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The Omnivorous Reader a

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comfortably fathom and too familiar to ignore. The final sections of the novel are a gourmet detective story told via a mushroom encyclopedia. Ribbed pluteus, blushing false truffles, candlesnuff fungus and other exotic appellations season the narrative. Lizard and friends open the Restaurant Firfisle, where the food is exquisite and the stylish clientele decidedly indulged by the staff and Lizard’s obsession with rarefied cuisine. Even informal picnics among friends are a literary opportunity for gastronomic extravagance: “. . . Etienne laid out a middle-eastern feast on good paper plates: foul mudamas and kerba-kum, hummus and spiced baked nuts, baby house-pitas and eggplant tapenade, sweet tea, shocking little pickles, candied squash blossoms stuffed with curried rice and onions, pink linen napkins from the restaurant.” The barrage of food imagery never quite achieves the olfactory apex of Leopold Bloom’s chicken livers, but the descriptions are bound to get into the reader’s nose.

He lives in a quirky universe of subterranean secrets . . . Since Roorbach’s secondary focus is popular culture, there’s a vague sense that he’s poking fun at our obsession with celebrity, but the notion is never fully developed, although the narrative continually edges toward subtle parody. The final chapters weave in and out of time, fleshing out gaps in the plot, supplying character motivation, and drifting confusingly — and surprisingly — toward a satisfying conclusion. If the novel has a fault, it’s more the reader’s dilemma than the author’s — a guilty intolerance for hanging out with the rich and famous. At a time when so many Americans are suffering the effects of the Great Recession, Roorbach’s characters are a trifle too gifted and a little too detached from the realities of contemporary life. A smidgen of economic compassion would have helped to humanize the principal players. Roorbach is cursed or blessed — depending on the reader’s ability to endure the drudgery or exhilaration of endless detail — with a talent for making his reader feel emotions by proxy. His characters breathe in a universe of their own creation, and although fantastical, they emerge as soulful human beings. If the reader is left feeling Lilliputian, well, that’s the point. PS Stephen Smith’s most recent book of poetry is A Short Report on the Fire at Woolworths. He can be reached at travisses@hotmail.com.

January 2013 P�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


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tim sayer

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January 2013 P���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


BOOKShelF

new releases for January By KiMBerly danielS and anGie Tally

Ahhh P P P JanuaryP The family is

gone. The holidays are over. After a month or so of bustling around, preparing for the big day followed by a magical night where we remember the reasons for the season, it is time to relax. It is in January when we calm down, stop drinking and spend time at home. It is in January that we cannot help but return to some of the best books that we meant to read last year and just did not quite find the moment.

So we recommend that you light a fire, sit in a comfortable chair, pour a nice cup of tea and start meandering through a stack of really enjoyable books. These are books that are a pleasure to read. Some are just a joy. Some make you think about who you are and your relationships with those around you. Some are deeper than that. And some are just plain old fun. Ready Player One by Ernest Cline is a book to pick up especially if you were a child or teen or young adult in the ’80s. Apart from being a fantastic adventure in a video game world, this book is full of references to ’80s’ fads, songs and culture. A story of friendship and how you live your life, under a riveting action packed almost Willy Wonkalike story. Fantastic, can’t put down and might have to read twice. A Land More Kind Than Home by Wiley Cash is more literary than Ready Player One and has a deeper subject matter. The plot is centered around a young boy whose circumstances cause him to peer through the veil of a pecular religion . . . but the story is really about power and how people wield it. The Art Forger by Barbara Shapiro is a fun book for men and women. In the 1990s, the Isabella Gardner Museum in Boston experienced a major theft. Shapiro has imagined and written a dynamite story that jumps from that heist into the world of an artist who has to challenge her moral limits and reconnect with her great talent. A Small Hotel by Robert Olen Butler came out in paperback this year. The back and forth of a couple’s history centers around a hotel room in New Orleans where they vacationed together over their 20-plus years as a couple. It is a literary delight! The Apothecary by Maile Meloy is a book about a young girl in California in the 1950s whose screenwriter parents suddenly inform her they are moving to London. In London she finds one friend,

Benjamin, who is the Apothecary’s son and fancies himself a spy. She joins him on his spying and they soon find themselves very good at it. Benjamin’s father goes missing and the two friends begin to use the spells in the Apothecary book to find him. A fantastic read with beautiful sketches that begin and end each chapter — a great book for readers age 9 to adults! Mr. Penumbras 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan is a read that had been a knockout favorite for those inclined to pick it up. This is a story for our times. A twenty-something boy loses his graphic design job and finds employment at a 24-hour bookstore in San Francisco. It soon becomes evident that this is no ordinary bookstore but a space that is tied to a centuries-old group with a thirst for knowledge. As he becomes more and more involved in the mystery, he recruits his successful movie friend and his Google-employed girlfriend to create a bridge between the creation of books and the Google e-readers of today. Heading Out to Wonderful by Robert Goolrick is a literary book that is about a lonely man in a small town. The man is a newcomer to town and works hard to be a good man but he is fated to cause trouble. This book is fantastical. In the Shadow of the Banyan by Vaddy Ratner is written by a woman who was a child refugee from the Cambodian genocide. Now an Ivy League graduate, U.S. citizen and resident of Virginia, she has written a beautiful story about a section of the royal family and the lost ideas and members as they try to survive the movement of refugees. This is a beautiful, beautiful book. May We Be Forgiven by A.M. Homes is a strangely upbeat novel that takes place in post9/11 New York suburbia. The book is a witty, snappy tale that is light despite having some heavy subject matter. Harold’s big mistake is to allow his brother’s wife to seduce him. His brother is successful and a life-long bully and when the fallout leaves Harold with the custody of his nephews and his brother in jail, the book still maintains a witty banter about the human condition. Three Times Lucky by Sheila Turnage is our personal choice for the Newberry award. This means it is GREAT for adults as well as kids. In a small Southern town, Mo (short for Moses

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because she was found as a baby in a basket, in a river, during a hurricane) rules the diner where most of the town gathers daily to hear the news. A stranger comes to town and The Colonel (Mo’s coparent with cook Miss Lena) finds himself suspected of a murder. It is up to Mo and her best friend Dale to solve the mystery. Every Day by David Levithan is a book for teenagers and Angie (our children’s buyer) recommends it for adults as well. The book is about a 16-year-old boy who wakes up every day in a different 16-yearold’s body. The book makes you think and gets to the center of what makes us who we really are. Pete the Cat by Eric Litwin. Pete is so cool. He likes primary colors and his shoes and going to school. There are three Pete the Cat books and all of them rhyme. The illustrations are bright funky paintings and fun to read. These are books for ages 2 to 6 and they are just plain fun for everyone who reads them. Bad Kitty by Nick Bruel. Bad Kitty is bad. So bad that you might get a little cranky reading the books. But if you have a child or cats this will be a fun book to enjoy. There are Bad Kitty books for young children and now Bad Kitty books for kids just learning to read chapter books on their own. The Last Dragon Slayer by Jasper Fforde is a book for kids who love Harry Potter. 15-year-old Jennifer Strange works her last years from an orphanage running an agency for underemployed magicians in a world where magic is fading away. But when visions of the death of the world’s last dragon begin, all signs point to Jennifer and Big Magic. Wonder by R.J. Palacio is a must read . . . Angie says, “Take a perfectly average boy who is normal in every way except for one thing. This is a fantastic book about bullying, social acceptance and power, and is a must read for everyone 12 and up.” PS

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9.5x11.5


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h i tt i n g h o m e

What Would Miss Dolly Do?

Saying “Yes” when I meant to say “No”

By Dale Nixon

New Year’s resolutions never worked for me. I never followed through to lose ten pounds, cut up my credit cards or drive within the speed limit. Each year I was a failure at the promises and pledges I made.

But this year I decided to try one more time. My resolution: to learn to say, “No.” Within a week after my resolution, a friend of mine approached me about taking on yet another project. I tried to explain I had my hands full as it was. I told her I wanted to spend more time just doing what I wanted to do. I wanted to spend more time with my family and friends. I wanted to spend more time on my columns instead of attending yet another committee meeting. She said she understood, but there really was no one else to do the job. She said, “You’re one of my most dependable friends. You can’t turn me down.” She was right. I couldn’t turn her down. I said, “Yes.” I got off the phone and put my head in my hands. I knew I should have said “No” when I said “Yes.” And then I got the silly giggles thinking that sounded like the beginnings of a country-western song that would go something like this: I knew I shoulda said “No” when I said “Yes.” I reckon that’s why my life’s in such a mess. I stutter and stammer and my hands start to shake, When you tell me this project’ll be a piece of cake. I give my excuses time and time again. But you are persistent and you always win. I knew I shoulda said “No” when I said “Yes.” I reckon that’s why my life’s in such a mess.

My backbone is yeller; I’m a sissy through and through. You know my weaknesses; they work well for you. Don’t look at me like you ain’t heard this before. You knew I was easy and you knew you would score. I knew I shoulda said “No” when I said “Yes.” I reckon that’s why my life’s in such a mess I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. And feeling all burned out. So stop the world and let me off, Or stop and watch me pout. I knew I shoulda said “No” when I said “Yes.” That’s why my life’s in such a mess. If “No” was a course that was offered in life I’d a failed it by now and made “A” in strife. The books say life ain’t easy; we have to pay our dues, But can’t I settle my accounts in the way that I choose. I knew I shoulda said “No” when I said “Yes.” I reckon that’s why my life’s in such a mess Maybe tomorrow I’ll find the strength to say, “No,” But in the meantime, you and I, we both know That until I tell you what I think about things I have to suffer with “Yes” and all that it brings. This song may not make the country-western charts, and Dolly Parton may not want to sing it at Dollywood or the Grand Ole Opry, but the next time my phone rings, I’m going to run through the verses in my head. Next year’s New Year’s resolution: to never write another song. PS Columnist Dale Nixon may be contacted at dalenixon@carolina.rr.com.

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Your Next Step: Painting Lights and Darks (oil/acrylic) Diane Kraudelt Jan. 14, 9:30am-3:30pm - $50 Advanced Alcohol Inks Techniques and Secrets Pat McMahon Jan. 15, 22, 29, Feb. 5 10:00am-12 pm $80 Advanced Alcohol Inks Techniques and Secrets Sandy Scott Jan. 16, 10:00am -4:00pm $50 Introduction to Watercolor Nancy Yanchus Jan. 17, 24, 1:00pm - 4:00pm $60 Painting With Paper Pulp Debby Kline Jan. 19, 10:00am - 3:00pm $40

Follow the Leader Joan Williams Jan. 21, 10:00pm - 3:00pm $70

Colored Pencil for Beginners Betty Hendrix Feb. 25, 10:00am - 4:00pm $55

Notan: Dark-Light Principle of Design Betty DiBartolomeo Jan. 23, 30, 1:00pm - 4:00pm $60

Fabulous Flowers (acrylics) Pat McMahon Feb. 26 - Mar. 5, 12, 10:00am – noon $60

Drawing Animals (beginner to intermediate) Yvonne Sovereign Jan. 28, 10am - 4:00pm $50

Novice Watercolor Sandy Scott Feb. 27 - Mar. 6, 13, 10:00am - 4:00pm $150

Combining Watercolor and Pastel Irene Dobson Feb. 4, 6, 10am - 3:30pm $90

Check out our website you can register on line. www.artistleague.org

Beginning Watercolor KC Sorvari Feb. 7, 14, 1:00pm - 4:00pm $60 Collaging Out of the Box Sandy Stratil Feb 11, 12, 10:00am - 4:00pm $105 Sight Sizing Betty DiBartolomeo Feb. 13, 20, 1:00pm -4:00pm $60 Realistic Animals in Watercolor (intermediate) Yvonne Sovereign Feb. 18, 19, 1:00pm - 4:00pm $60

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The kitchen garden

Moore Good Food How a thriving Farm-to-Table program is yielding more than award winning dishes Rhett’s award-winning collard green spring rolls with homemade mustard dipping sauce

By Jan Leitschuh

What is it

Photograph By Cassie Butler

with Moore County and food these days?

All of a sudden, area newspapers are writing us up as a “foodie destination” for nonresidents. Even the venerable and distant Chicago Tribune gave our food scene a thumbs up. Area chefs source from local farmers’ markets, farm stands, farmers and the community-owned Sandhills Farm to Table Cooperative — or even their backyards. Awareness of whole, fresh food is on the upswing, as are the nearby farmers who produce it. Most pleasing of all, for three years running, four area restaurants have captured the North Carolina Best Dish award. We’re on a roll. Yes, our tiny micropolis of Southern Pines/Pinehurst has become quite the little fresh-local juggernaut. This quiet, sandy, mostly rural patch of Moore county, with only some 89,000 residents — less than 1 percent of North Carolina’s entire population — has produced some fabulous restaurants, farmers and folks who appreciate them. Now statewide recognition comes from the prestigious NC Best Dish prize, a program highlighting the best of the best in Tar Heel restaurant food. Sponsored by the NC Department of Agriculture’s “Got to Be NC” program and Our State magazine, this mountains-to-sea restaurant competition rewards the elegant and soul-satisfying use of local North Carolina products by restaurants throughout the state. And here we are. Little Moore county. Isolated, a good hour or more from the seat of state power, or anywhere, really — but ever-willing to throw down good grub grown locally. Now, the whole state is waking up to that fact too. Suddenly, we’re a “scene.” Front and center on the food map. A “foodie destination.” With the seasons of feasting behind us, the committed kitchen gardener’s larder may be much reduced. A break from cooking and the kitchen just might be welcomed in the dark winter months. And while we knew it before, the state contest reminds us sweetly that many area restaurants can satisfy the exquisite, gnawing hunger for fresh, great-tasting local food. Many independently owned area restaurants make clever use of the growing abundance of North Carolina products. The last ten or twelve years have seen a burst of appreciation for fresh produce, locally grown and/or grass-fed meats, non-GMO stone-milled grains, free range eggs, fresh cream and farmstead cheeses, local nuts, jams, sauces and honeys, North Carolina seafood, locally cured meats, etc. In many ways, area chefs have led the charge, but the farmers have produced it and the eating public has embraced the fresh and soulful flavors, rooted in our local dirt.

“Consumers are more interested in ‘the taste of a place’ than ever,” says Tim Parrish, NCDA food-service marketing specialist, in an Internet interview. “In addition, the dining public is more concerned than ever about where their food is coming from. Area chefs are choosing local ingredients to make memorable dishes. NCDA searched for a way to highlight not only the chefs deploying these ingredients, but the local farms supplying them.” And “a taste of the place” will figure high on the menu “with the big golf tournaments in the next few years, the Men’s and Women’s U.S. Opens back to back, people coming from all over,” says Ashley van Camp, the 2010 NC Best Dish winner. “Large corporations are checking us out to see where to send their people to eat.” In addition, a number of quality-demanding visitors and celebrities including Michael Jordan, Sean Connery, Tiger Woods and Jack Nicklaus have homes in or frequent the area. How is it that, three years in a row, our little micropolis of Southern Pines/ Pinehurst has pulled a rabbit out of the stew pot and produced four prestigious NC Best Dish winners? The chefs, all leaders in the fresh-local sourcing movement, point immediately to local farmers. “Maybe it’s because we’ve all worked really hard to make those relationships with farmers,” says van Camp. Her Ashten’s Restaurant of Southern Pines took the top award in Fine Dining statewide in 2010. Ashten’s also hosts an annual farmer appreciation dinner. “So many farmers are willing to bring us the freshest food, or to meet us at farmers’ markets. A chef can’t really leave a kitchen during the day and can’t be driving all over the place looking for it. The community has rallied around it as well, and they’ll give us tips on new products, great farmers.” For the 2010 contest, Ashten’s staff offered an egg drop soup, an asparagus strudel, trout with blackeyed peas, lamb shoulder stew, finished off with a dessert of polenta cake with strawberries. “We figured, ‘Why not: We do it anyway. Why not let people know?’” says van Camp, who was influenced by her grandmother’s old-fashioned country food. Chef de cuisine Matt Hannon and pastry chef Jen Curtis helped pull off the winning menu. Restaurants wishing to participate in a given year’s Best Dish submit an application over the winter. Finalists are selected from each region — mountains, coast and Piedmont. Although in Ashten’s year, 2010, the contest was for the entire state, growing popularity of the contest sparked the increase in regional opportunities. Mystery judges visit each of the 30 finalists and choose two winners from each region, one for casual dining and one for fine dining. The

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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28 January 2013 P���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


The kitchen garden

six winners are announced in the fall. Each dish is judged not just on how delicious it tastes, but also how wonderful it looks; on how creative the dish is; how it and the contest are promoted and marketed; and the use of NC products. The contest is, after all, designed to promote the excellent foods produced in our state. In 2011, in the Piedmont category, two local restaurants swept the Fine Dining Awards. The Pinehurst Resort’s 1895 Grille at the historic Holly Inn captured the second spot in Fine Dining, Piedmont, rocketing past all those fancy Triangle eateries. The only Four Diamond-rated restaurant in the area, the 1895 Grille cultivates “flavors straight from the Carolinas.” The judges liked flavors straight from the Carolinas. In the top spot, the 2011 first place winner in Fine Dining, Piedmont, was Pinehurst’s Elliot’s on Linden. Chef Mark Elliott entered five courses, including a roast rack of lamb stuffed with pork, a pâté and moonshine pickled vegetables, proving yet again that serious food is fun, too. Elliott thinks the attention is “due to collective energy of the area. It’s almost serendipitous. The farmers, the farmers’ markets are all coming together, people are supporting local food, and people want to know where their food comes from,” he says. “A lot of that has to do with our world as it is. Everything has been made big, centralized to lower costs. People are starting to question those values and what’s been lost. They prefer a local shop, local food. Here, you have a strong community. You know your neighbors, you go to the farmers’ market, you know half the people there. There’s a good vibration. When you meet the farmers who grow something, it’s pretty special.” Elliott, long a leader in the farm-fresh movement, enlarged his commitment to produce quality this year when he cleared land and installed a kitchen garden out back of his flagship restaurant, complete with beehive. It doesn’t get more home-grown, fresh or local than that.

This year’s racehorse, the 2012 first place East Piedmont/Coastal winner in Fine Dining, was Rhett’s Restaurant of Southern Pines. Rhett Morris and staff wowed judges with a menu that included collard green spring rolls with homemade mustard dipping sauce, a popular spring gazpacho, a ribbon salad with thinly sliced local vegetables soaked in white balsamic vinegar and topped with strawberry vinaigrette sorbet, a chicken cordon blue wrapped in local country ham, and a cornmeal cake using Guilford Mills cornmeal and fresh strawberries. Morris may have the best insight as to “why here?” “I think we’re a bit more rural here than Raleigh and some of the bigger cities,” he says. “Their farms are well outside the cities. Here, we can easily access our farmers. You can be creative with farm-fresh produce because you don’t have to do a whole lot to it. It’s picked the day before, not sat on a truck a week to get here. This makes the difference, taste-wise. Plus we don’t have to order as much in advance. A couple days later you can get some more, fresh picked.” In a small area populated by excellent chefs and eating establishments, the passion for quality feeds off itself. The chefs spur each other on to excellence. Their excitement encourages farmers to grow or raise ever more diverse products. And we, the eating public, reap the benefits of more open land for crops, great food, connection, community, and the absolutely valuable stimulus our precious dollars provide our local economy. Any number of restaurants in our area fit the description of “excellence, sourcing local food,” with some chefs even growing a portion. It will be interesting to watch over the next few years how many of our area’s excellent chefs and eateries, both Fine Dining and Casual, show up on the NC Best Dish roster. A committed kitchen gardener could do no better in the dark of winter. PS Jan Leitschuh is a local gardener, avid eater of fresh produce and co-founder of the Sandhills Farm to Table Cooperative.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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30 January 2013

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V i n e W i sd o m

The Need for Nebbiolo

Intensely aromatic, slow maturing, a fine Italian worth your time and budget

By Robyn James

If pinot noir is

the world’s most tantalizing grape, nebbiolo runs a close second for very similar reasons. While the red Burgundy grape has been extremely unwilling to travel happily from its French birthplace, and is only just showing signs of settling down in places such as Oregon, New Zealand and cooler parts of California, good nebbiolo wine is still very difficult to find outside its homeland in the Piemonte region of Italy.

Even in its region of origin, Piemonte, nebbiolo is exceptionally finicky about where it will grow and ripen. The nebbiolo heartland is in the tiny Barolo region where gifted and dedicated growers-producers know that it is worth planting nebbiolo only on south or southwest facing slopes at an altitude between 250 and 450 meters. There is no chance of making decent wine from this late-ripening variety if it is not exposed to maximum sunshine. Lesser sites are planted with barbera, dolcetto or the newcomer to the area: chardonnay. Again, like pinot noir, nebbiolo is lighter in color than other red grapes and is extremely sensitive to the soil in which it is planted. It also grows well in the younger, smaller area of Barbaresco and on the Langhe Hills, bottled under the name of Nebbiolo D’Alba. These can be some of the best values in nebbiolo. So, what does nebbiolo taste like? It could be one of the few grapes you could identify on color alone, as it tends to take on a brick-orange tinge at the rim of the glass.

Perhaps the most wonderful thing about nebbiolo is its perfume. The wine is typically intensely aromatic, developing the most haunting bouquet in which, variously, roses, autumn undergrowth, wood smoke, violets and tar can often be found. On the palate, the wine is typically high in acidity and, until after many years in bottle, tannins. In fact, top quality barolo made in the traditional way is one of the slowest maturing wines in the world, easily aging four decades in the bottle. Although nebbiolo is the king of Piemonte, it still accounts for only about 3 percent of the wine produced in that region. It is so temperamental and difficult that only the truly dedicated with the perfect sites will deal with it. Nonetheless, vintners are attempting to tame the beast in Australia, California, New Zealand, South America and South Africa. Rarely do you find the words “affordable” and “nebbiolo” in the same sentence; barolos can be some of the priciest wines available in the market, beginning at $80 and going up. Barolo must spend at least a year in oak barrel and then three years aging in the bottle. The barolo riserva will spend at least 57 months aging. Principano and Marchesi Di Barolo are great producers of fairly priced barolo, and Ceretto makes a delicious barbaresco asij. However, nearly every producer of Barolo also makes wine bottled as either nebbiolo d’Alba or Langhe nebbiolo. Basically from the same grapes that would become barolo, only aged less. For example, Vietti, one of the most highly regarded Barolo producers, makes a Langhe nebbiolo called Perbacco, which is so close to the real thing, they call it “baby barolo.” Damilano also makes a nebbiolo D’Alba for under $15 that is a great introduction to this unique and elusive grape, so don’t miss out! PS Robyn James is proprietor of The Wine Cellar and Tasting Room in Southern Pines. Contact her at winecellar@pinehurst.net.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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liFe oF JAne

up a creek

What the gods give, they sometimes take back

By JaNe BoRDeN

Probably, I did it wrong.

Surely, over time, I’d master the motion, ritualize it. But my first attempt at the vault bar fitness station on the Latham Park Greenway left my shins bruised and spirit defeated. Previous posts along the exercise circuit — the equivalent of twenty adult swing sets — had asked me only to climb ladders or jump jacks. I was ill-prepared for the truly Olympic feat of throwing my legs up and over a bar while basically horizontal to the ground. I tried and failed twice more before deeming it the most torturous stop on the wellness Via Dolorosa.

The fitness stations are carefully crafted, prescribed for me to reap someone else’s R&D rewards. It runs parallel to another circuit of high design, a loping robot army of electrical-power-line towers. The third path within the Greenway is Buffalo Creek, snaking more extemporaneously among, and occasionally in the way of, the other two. Humbled by my failure to medal in the vault, I pushed through the creek’s thrushy wall and clambered down to its bed. I was no longer an Irving Parker in a jog bra; I was a latter-day hero on a journey to steal something from the gods. A guide appeared in the form of paw-print tracks in the sand, so I followed, passing increasingly bizarre trash along the way. Beer cans, sure. Plastic grocery bags — the clover of man’s garbage — also made sense. But a cell phone box? I momentarily wondered what we won’t launch through an open car window — a Christmas tree? a sofa set? — before realizing that the diversity of waste was surely a result of flooding. How else to explain an enormous American flag? I found it crumpled in a heap, a wholly novel site

to me, on the flat, sandy plain next to the water’s edge. If it’s verboten for even a corner of a flag to touch the ground, then this was an act of accidental terrorism. Had invading water carried it from someone’s garage? Had an entire high-school band washed away with it? Or maybe it was abandoned in the park when the Confederates in a Civil War re-enactment decided they finally wanted to win one? I grabbed an edge and tugged. It threw sand to the side as it heaved from the earth. I half expected to find a treasure chest. Then it stopped, would no longer budge. I pulled harder and it began to tear. While the water was high, the cloth must have tangled around something solid and heavy — treasure! — that dragged part of the flag down through the mucked-up floor before the silt and sand settled again, burying a new captive with them. Note to self: Remove heavy burdens, in case of flood. I considered returning with a shovel. For reasons unknown, I wanted that flag. Then I imagined someone seeing me, in a sweat, climbing into Buffalo Creek with a shovel. Whether casualty or prize, I turned my back on the flag and climbed out to the manufactured world. Two days later, I returned to the Latham Park Greenway, again to exercise, although this time I eschewed the Fitness Stations of the Cross for a jog. Throughout, I wondered over the status of the flag. Afterward, I crawled back through a patch in the creek’s wall of brush and walked the water’s edge. But I did not find it. Perhaps it’s gone. Or maybe I’d lost the ability to see it. I should have stolen my prize from the gods when I had the chance. The guards open the gate just once; the hero only gets one journey. PS Jane Borden is a native of Greensboro and the author of the highly acclaimed memoir I Totally Meant To Do That. illustRatioN By meRiDith maRteNs

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � January 2013

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January 2013P���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


ouT oF The Blue

Warming up to January Cold is an enemy with benefits

By DeBoRah salomoN

January means cold.

People relocate to Central North Carolina for climate Camelot — winter especially, not that December and January deserve that designation. They forget real winter — like forgetting a toothache after the cavity has been filled. But cold is a thing, a force, a storm surge. Deal, move . . . or hibernate. The cold has long been part of my life. Except for middle school, high school and college in North Carolina I lived in New York City, where the wind swoops down the caverns between skyscrapers with enough power to direct a schooner to the Bahamas. I moved to Montreal way before global warming; one January in the early 1960s the high for the month hit plus 5. I also lived in northern Vermont, where a November blizzard doesn’t melt until March. In those extremes cold finds a voice. Ceiling rafters shrink and moan. A plane flying overhead crackles like dry twigs. The bone-dry snow crunches underfoot. On a sunny day the surface may liquefy slightly, forming a crust for extra crunch. At dawn I would fill the bird fountain with steaming water. Twenty minutes later ice had formed along the edges. In an hour, the water was rink-solid. The cats draped themselves over the same radiator covers where I warmed my bottom while sipping morning coffee. As the temperature approaches zero, clouds and humidity disappear. Sunshine’s a guarantee — and does it ever feel good — even warm on a face lifted to rays reflected off the snow. Dressing for this cold is a thermodynamic art practiced by skiers. I became the purchasing agent for five. Synthetics will never replace cashmere and down in my book, or on my body. A cashmere turtleneck topped by a wool sweater and a down jacket. Cashmere socks and puffy down mitts over silk glove-liners. A soft knit cap covered by a down hood. Fleece-lined suede boots and I’m good to go — anywhere. Except there’s nowhere to go. These garments, as well as coats of all weights and lengths, still clutter my closet, waiting for the next Ice Age. I miss the bundled feeling. Sometimes, on a chilly evening, for old times’ sake, I zip up a parka instead of adjusting the thermostat.

Cold is an enemy with benefits. In a frigid climate the screened porch (even with glass winter panels) becomes a walk-in cooler, so convenient for a cauldron of soup, or a turkey, or any refrigerator overflow including, in January, ice cream. Is there a more beautiful sight than a pair of cardinals glowing against the snow, at dusk? Hardy cardinals, despite their North Carolina connection, overwinter far north. They are territorial, I learned, one couple to a yard. Mine stayed fat and happy on sunflower hearts at two dollars a pound. Romanticizing the brutal comes easier from a distance. January now leaves me smug, snug and content — a good thing since storm windows, winter weatherstripping, a down comforter and a wood stove set into the fireplace (a must-have during January power outages) are no longer part of my terrain. All those Januarys made me stronger, too, more tolerant of extremes. They made me appreciate shelter, a four-wheel drive vehicle and, to warm the insides, hot tea spiked with spiced rum. January taught me to challenge the cold on a late-night walk, armored in bib overalls, long underwear and the kind of face mask thugs use to rob a bank. Even the dog had a fleece coat; when he lifted his leg the yellow stream created a crevice in the snow. I do miss those walks, for the virtuous feeling afterward. But when I fly north to visit my grandchildren the damp cold assaults me as I exit the revolving door at the airport. It scalds lungs rendered lazy by a temperate constant. My blood has “thinned” as the saying goes. I’m a winter wimp. At least here during a cold snap I have ammunition — no matter how silly a full-length puffy red coat looks on Broad Street. Tell me, please, why locals dash, coatless, from car to office? Are they afraid outergarments will brand them sissies? Yes, January represents cold in at least half the world. Always has, we hope it always will. At least, if needed, I have enough experience bolstered by the fleece of many sheep and the down of many geese to survive until daffodils. Because I’m not going back. PS Deborah Salomon is a staff writer for PineStraw and The Pilot. She may be reached at debsalomon@nc.rr.com.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � January 2013

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36

January 2013P���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


B i r D WA T c h

Dark-eyed Junco True harbinger’s of Sandhills winter

By susaN camPBell

“The snowbirds are back!” No, not

the thin-blooded retirees — they will not be back until spring. These are the little black and white sparrow-like birds that appear under feeders when the mercury dips here in the Sandhills. They can be found in flocks, several dozen strong in places. And, in spite of what you might think, they are far from dependent on bird seed in winter. Dark-eyed juncos are a diverse and widely distributed species. Six populations are recognized across the U.S., Canada and Mexico. Slight but noticeable differences in appearance constitute the difference in these populations. Some have white wing bars, others sport a reddish back, and the birds in the high elevations of the Rockies are known by the extensive pinkish feathering on their flanks. Our Eastern birds are known as “slatecolored juncos” for their dark brown to gray feathering. They are very accustomed to cold temperatures whether in summer or winter. As with most migrant songbirds, their migratory behavior is based on food availability, not weather. Flocks will fly southward, stopping where they find abundant grasses and forbs. They will continue on once the food plants have been stripped of seed. Dark-eyed juncos can be found throughout North America at differ-

ent times of the year. During the breeding season, juncos are found at high elevations across the boreal forests nesting in thick evergreens. Our familiar slate-colored variety breeds as close as the high elevations of the Appalachians. You can find them easily around Blowing Rock and Boone year-round. These non-migrants actually have shorter wings as a result of their sedentary existence. Watch for male juncos advertising their territories up high in fir or spruce trees. They will utter sharp chips and may string together a series of rapid call notes that sounds like the noise emitted by a “phaser” from “Star Trek” fame. In winter, flocks congregate in open and brushy habitats. Juncos are distinguished from other sparrows by their clean markings: dark heads with small, pale, conical bills, pale bellies and white outer tail feathers. Females have a browner wash and less of a demarcation between belly and breast than males. They hop around and feed on small seeds close to ground level. Some individuals can be quite tame once they become familiar with a specific place and particular people. Juncos do communicate frequently, using sharp trills to keep the flock together. They will not hesitate to dive for deep cover when alarmed. So the next time you come upon a flock along the roadside or notice juncos under your feeder, take a close look. These little birds will only be with us a few months, until day length begins to increase and they head back to the boreal forests from whence they came. PS Susan would love to hear from you. Send wildlife sightings and photos to susan@ncaves.com or call (910) 949-3207.

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Become Part of Our History

Visit Pine Needles Lodge & Mid Pines Inn to become part of the legacy of the Pine Needles Club. Inquire about vacation packages or membership opportunities at 800.706.3660 or membership@pineneedlesclub.com

1005 Midland Rd. Southern Pines, NC 28387 | www.pineneedles-midpines.com

38 January 2013

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The SPorTing liFe

The man Who Was never There Deep in the Yukon, off the map, the pilot never showed and the weather was closing fast

A New Year Adventure Story By tom BRyaNt

he had an amazing talent

for going to sleep. It was as if he had a switch in his brain. Turn it off, sound asleep. Turn it on, immediately awake. It never failed him until this particular morning, when he opened his eyes slowly and heard sleet and freezing rain rattling the roof of his wall tent. He was tired, bone weary. It seemed as if the sleep he was getting was not the kind that refreshed. It was just part of his routine. Maybe it had to do with the longer nights. This time of year, in the northern Yukon, darkness came early in the afternoon and lasted long into the morning. He resolved, as he unzipped his sleeping bag and sat up on the side of his cot, that he would have to start living more by the clock and less by the sun.

He sat there for a minute and his yellow dog, Mackie, came over and put her head on his knee. She had been sleeping close to the tent’s little iron stove even though it had gone out long before. “Cold in here, Mackie,” he said. “Let’s get us a fire going.” He slowly got out of his sleeping bag, pulled on his wool mackinaw trousers, lit the hurricane lantern, grabbed some kindling from the bucket and started a fire in the stove. For the size, the stove was remarkably efficient, and soon warmth pervaded the small space he had called home for the last month. He finished dressing and poured dry cereal into a tin bowl. Before he ate, though, he unzipped the front of the tent to let Mackie out to do her business. Sleet now mixed with snow was blowing intermittently out of the northeast. He zipped up his parka and followed Mackie out into the darkness. The nights are getting longer, he thought. I’ve got to make a decision today. Something has happened to Larkin.

Their plan was supposedly foolproof. He had flown in with his partner, Larkin, who had filed a false flight plan to throw off the people who had been following him for the last month. They landed at the lake indicated on the ancient map near the site where the gold claim was supposed to be. Larkin was to fly back to the base airport until it was time to rendezvous. In the interim, his job was to reconnoiter the lake until he found the old prospector’s cabin. Then he would put up new claim stakes and wait for Larkin to fly in with his floatplane for the trip back to Whitehorse, where he could record the claim. On paper it looked good. But something had happened. Larkin and his plane were four days past the pickup date. Mackie ran down to where he kept the canoe. It was a natural little cut in the lee of the prevailing wind with flat calm water, a perfect place to launch. Sleet changed over to snow and seemed to be getting lighter. He whistled up his dog and walked back up the hill to the tent. A dull gray sky with low angry clouds began to emerge from the darkness. It had been a long time since he had seen the sun. The tent was warm and he poured Mackie a bowl of her diminishing dry food. His coffee was about gone but he made a generous pot and put the percolator on the stove. Man, what a mess, he thought, and lay down across his cot and thought back to how it all started. He had always been a student of Canada’s Yukon. Even as a kid he would read everything he could find about the Arctic in Northern Canada and Alaska and dream about one day camping and exploring the vast wilderness. As he grew older, his interest almost became an obsession, and he made several trips to Canada doing research on the early days of the great Yukon gold rush. There was one prospector he discovered in an old record book in the archives at Whitehorse, the capital of the Yukon Territory. His name was Hutchinson and he was from southern British Columbia. He had acquired quite a reputation as an explorer, prospector and friend of the natives who lived on the banks of the Porcupine River. The legend surrounding this old Canadian was only found in a few archival books; but surprisingly, the elders of the tribes that Hutchinson lived with in the early days along the Yukon and Porcupine still passed down tales about the one-armed, graybearded one who found gold by talking to the bears. In his research, he discovered that Hutchinson had an early version of

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � January 2013

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T h e sp o r t i n g l i f e

a prosthesic arm that he used in dealing with the Tagish people. He would often take off his false arm to amaze and impress them. The elders of the tribe described Hutchinson as a shaman or one who could talk to the bears. It was said that giant grizzlies led him to a gold strike where nuggets the size of chicken eggs were lying in a dry creek bed. The gold rumor was supported back at Whitehorse and at Dawson City by actual facts. Hutchinson would resupply from time to time using gold nuggets for cash. One of the old residents of the Yukon capital had a nugget, supposedly from Hutchinson, that was the size of a golf ball. What made this tale even more interesting was Hutchinson’s sudden disappearance. One day he was there, the next he was gone, along with information about the whereabouts of his unrecorded major claim. Finding the map was a fluke. On a trip to one of his favorite hideaways in the mountains of North Carolina, he had stopped at a used bookstore. He was in a hurry and only had a few minutes to browse because he had a plane to catch, ironically to Alaska. He was heading out the door when the owner of the shop, a small, elderly, white-haired lady said, “I just received several boxes of books from a mountain estate just north of here. The owner was quite a collector. You’re welcome to go through them. Maybe you’ll find something that will interest you.” He hurriedly dug through the first box just to appease the old lady; but surprisingly, he found a well-worn book written by the famous Yukon explorer and hunter, Fredrick Selous. He purchased the book and stuck it in his briefcase, worrying all the time about missing his plane. He just made his flight and boarded the nonstop out of Charlotte to Seattle. As his trip got under way, he opened his book on the Yukon and looked at the inside cover. It was well-worn and had an inscription: To Dad, I hope you get to go here some day. Jamie, October 1907. On the inside back cover was a hand-drawn map in faded ink with a notation at the bottom, Directions given to me by J.H. to his cabin, 1911. The map included a lake in the Yukon Arctic just off the Porcupine River. Wind blowing hard woke him from his reverie and he got up, poured water in his cereal and ate breakfast. With the last bite of the tasteless mixture, he made up his mind. “OK, Mackie, we’re getting out of here. Larkin hasn’t shown up, which means he’s not coming. It can’t be plane trouble. He’s got three.” Larkin’s bush pilot service included a Dehaviland Beaver and an Otter, both equipped with floats. There was also a big DC 3 for longer flights. “It’s gonna take some doing, but we’ve got to go. We’ll never survive winter here.” In Whitehorse, at the Royal Canadian Mounted Police headquarters, Staff Sergeant Johansson reported to his captain, “We got a team down to the missing plane. Believe it or not, it looks as if he ran out of gas, and he was way off his flight plan. The pilot’s dead. No sign of the passenger.” “That doesn’t make sense,” replied the captain. “I know Larkin. He’s one of the best bush pilots around. No way he would run out of gas. And he knows those mountains like the back of his hand. You’re sure? No sign of the passenger?” “Yes sir. It’s like he was never there.” “Well, if Larkin dropped him off at some lake for fishing, the fellow will probably wish he were on that plane. Winter’s coming and this is supposed to be one of the worst. Keep looking to the lakes in the north but make it quick. A northeaster is on the way, and I don’t want anybody out in that.” A hundred miles from where the Mounties were searching, a man and his dog stood on the bank of a small windswept lake looking toward the south. PS Tom Bryant, a Southern Pines resident, is a lifelong outdoorsman and PineStraw’s Sporting Life columnist.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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G o l ft o w n J o u r n a l

Anything to Make a Putt This there is anything new in golf? Consider the tale of Walter Travis and his amazing putter

By Lee Pace

Photograph from the tufts archives

Before there were

Webb Simpson and Keegan Bradley winning major championships with putters anchored to their mid-sections, there was Walter Travis sinking putts from every corner at Sandwich to win the 1904 British Amateur. Before the USGA and Royal & Ancient collectively decreed in November 2012 that placing the handle of the putter against your chest or stomach to make a stroke would be against the rules effective in 2016, the R&A ruled more than a century ago that Travis’s center-shafted putter made in Schenectady, N.Y., would no longer be allowed. What goes around, comes around. “Golf will survive,” says Ben Crenshaw, the 60-year-old who has seen most of it and likely read all of it in a lifetime of playing the game and studying its history. “There have been a number of periods where painful rulings have been made. There is no question, there will be some pain across the board. But if you study the game over time, there have been incidents like this all along. Walter Travis stirred up a hornet’s nest a century ago. Ben Hogan had some of the strangest looking putters you can imagine. It was painful to watch Sam Snead in his later years. “Harvey Penick use to say, ‘A man will do anything to make a putt. He’ll even stand on his head if he can make a putt.’” Indeed, the story of Travis and his putting wizardry is an interesting one as a century-old backdrop to the recent news.

Travis was a native of Australia who moved to the United States as a youngster and was the first dominant amateur golfer in America around the turn of the previous century. He won the U.S. Amateur three times and in 1901 published Practical Golf, considered an authoritative reference book, and in 1908 began publishing The American Golfer magazine. Travis was a frequent visitor to Pinehurst and spent part of many winters here. He won the North and South Amateur in 1904, 1910 and 1912, and the Pinehurst Outlook reported in the fall of 1908 that Travis had spent considerable time playing and studying the new No. 2 course, which opened as an 18-hole layout in 1907 under the direction of Donald Ross. “I know of no course, north or south, which provides a more thorough test or better golf, and none which gives such diversity,” Travis said. “You are exceptionally fortunate in length, there is no monotony — every hole is different — not an unfair hazard on the course, and, no hill climbing. Best of all, each hole has a special shot of its own . . . and, mark my word, certain holes will be quoted from one end of the country to the other.” Travis didn’t take up golf until the age of 35 and learned by trial-and-error from reading the early writings on technique and taking them to the practice ground. He wasn’t much longer off the tee than some women, and the British golf writer Bernard Darwin observed that Travis’s style “was not elegant or powerful, but he swung the club with a mechanical precision and had clearly complete control over it.” Given his lack of physical prowess and late start to the game, Travis learned his key to playing well would be to develop an outstanding short game. He was one the of the first golfers to adopt the reverse-overlapping grip on the putting green, and he choked down as much as six inches and played the ball off his right foot. Travis perfected his technique, author Charles Price said, “to such a degree that his opponents felt he could putt the eyes out of a squirrel.” He was considered the finest putter of his era. This physical resume was augmented with a stern deportment. Travis,

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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g o l F T oW n J o u r nA l

Price said, “stomped the fairways in dour silence, puffing constantly on his cigar as he went along.” Darwin opined that his countenance had “something sinister and almost Satanic” about it. Travis told sports writer Grantland Rice, “I never hit a careless shot in my life,” and added that he hit every shot as if a championship hung in the balance. He was known in golf circles as, simply, “The Old Man.” Against this backdrop, Travis sailed to the British Isles three weeks in advance of the 1904 Amateur at St. George’s Golf Club in the English town of Sandwich. First he went to St. Andrews and North Berwick in Scotland to practice, but he fell into an inexplicable slump that moved him

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over the following days to ditch all of his clubs and acquire new ones. He did, however, have his trusty “Schenectady Putter,” an implement devised in 1902 and patented a year later by a Schenectady engineer named Arthur Knight. The putter featured an aluminum head and a wooden shaft attached near the center of the head; its early appearance was so gangly and clumsy that Knight, a member at Mohawk Golf Club, was prohibited from using it in an intra-club match in Syracuse. Knight showed the new putter to a golfing friend, Devereux Emmet of Garden City, who in turn showed it to Travis, who immediately embraced it, saying it was “the best putter I’ve ever used,” and ordered the manufacture of one for himself. That fall he finished second in the U.S. Open with the Schenectady, ushering in demand from more than a hundred golfers for the putter. Travis holed sizable putts at St. George’s in both of his opening day matches and continued to amaze his opponents and the spectators as he churned through the field. He beat Harold Hilton and Horace Hutchinson, the latter of whom wrote some of the books Travis had studied to learn golf technique. Finally he dispatched Ted Blackwell, a much more powerful and long-hitting player, Travis hitting drives short and center while Blackwell

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G o l ft o w n J o u r n a l

scattered them all about, and Travis rolling in putts over the vast acreage of St. George’s greens. The combination of Travis’s standoffish manner and his reliance on the putter turned the English against him; they actually applauded one missed putt from five feet. After Travis won on the 33rd hole, the silence was startling. The Brits were not happy with their champion, who seemed less a legitimate golfer with his reliance on this odd-looking putter. “Lord Northbourne piously expressed the hope that a similar disaster would never again take place in British sport,” Pinehurst’s Richard Tufts noted of the presentation ceremony. “We were not very friendly to him either before he won or afterwards,” Darwin added. Six years later, the R&A banned the centershafted putter, and many believed the ruling came at least in part in retaliation against Travis and his use of the curious device at Sandwich. In truth, according to Ed Homsey, archivist of The Walter J. Travis Society, the controversy stemmed from a request by a golf club in New Zealand to approve the use of a croquet mallet as a putter. The R&A responded that a croquet mallet is not a golf club and thus could not be used as a putter. By this time, Travis was publishing The American Golfer and used it as a bully-pulpit to rail against the ban. “Editorial after editorial was written in opposition to the ban,” Homsey says. “Travis garnered a great deal of support, including a letter expressing disagreement with the R&A ruling by President William Taft. The controversy raged throughout 1910 until 1911, when the USGA accepted the R&A ruling but refused to consider the Schenectady putter as a mallet. This was the first instance of the USGA failing to follow an R&A ruling to the letter. Thus, the Schenectady continued to be a popular choice throughout the United States, and it wasn’t until 1951 that the R&A lifted its ban on center-shafted putters.” And who should be among the first to take advantage of the R&A’s change of heart? Ben Hogan used a center-shafted putter to win the British Open two years later. Travis’s famous Schenectady was auctioned off for $1,500 in 1918 and was donated to the Garden City Golf Club, where he was a member, where it was displayed until it was stolen in 1952. “It has not been heard from since,” Homsey says. You can, however, find various Schenectady putters today in antique stores or on eBay—$200 or less will get you a 1903 model with a hickory shaft. And there’s no telling what Webb Simpson’s belly putter will go for fifty years from now. PS Lee Pace’s new book, The Golden Age Of Pinehurst, is available at area bookstores. PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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January 2013

The Vineyard road At some point along that vineyard road, against a lake whose name I can’t recall, I turned my head and saw, surprised, your tears, wiped clean with a brisk hand, in faltering autumn light. Was it the unquiet pasts that touched you so? Or unspoken alarms of present days; leaned on by bittersweet valedictory light, made pure by bas reliefs and casual laughs, of those drunk young marrieds and distant hills of gold? I listened, and knew I loved you, then. Quite simply, for that. For you — both known and unknown earth; tilled and waiting, unexpectant, whatever winters come, the compass foot I’ve watched skies for, a sky, perhaps, to follow home.

— Jim Dodson

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P January 2013 47


Call Me Mr. Bates By Jim Dodson

O

ne night last January I phoned home from a business trip out West to say goodnight to my wife, only to discover she was having a torrid affair. She admitted it without a fig of guilt — in fact, a giddy laugh. “I can’t stop thinking about him,” she admitted, sounding alarmingly coquettish for a woman who just turned 50. “I’ve been so bad, eating chocolate and drinking wine. I’m not ashamed to admit I’m having a great time. I’m like a woman possessed.” “What’s his name?” I asked. “Bates,” she replied. “Or should I say — Mr. Bates.” “How often do you see this Mr. Bates?” “Pretty much every night since you’ve been gone.” “What does this Bates do besides steal the affections of other men’s wives in their absence?” I put to her. “He’s the Earl of Grantham’s personal valet. And such a lovely man, so kind and honorable despite his wretched little wife, who is cunning and full of greed. You wonder how a man so kind and gentle ends up with a horrible woman like that.” Turns out, Dame Wendy — as I now call her — was was bundled into our upstairs matrimonial bed with all three dogs, a nice bottle of pinot noir and a box of Godiva bittersweet chocolates, hopelessly engrossed in the first season of Masterpiece Theater’s Downton Abbey, the lavish period costume drama imported from Britain about the travails of a family of Yorkshire aristocrats and their meddling but loyal servants during the fading days of the Empire prior to and just after the First World War. At that moment in time the series was already being hailed as the most successful serialized program in British TV history, and with the second season set to debut on PBS within days, my bride had somehow laid hands on a friend’s video of season one and was having her own private Downton marathon (orgy?) in order to catch up with the rest of Downton-crazed America. “You have to watch it when you get home, if only for Granny’s barbs. She’s deliciously wicked.” “Why do you sound like Jane Seymour?” I pointed out. “And who on Earth is Granny?” Granny, she explained, was Dame Violet Crawley, played with brittle arch perfection by veteran stage actress Maggie Smith, sharp-tongued mother-inlaw of Cora, the wealthy American widow whom Lord Robert Crawley married in a hurry in order to preserve Downton Abbey from potential financial ruin and the clutches of a distant and self-made relative, a third cousin once

48

removed and the estate’s presumptive heir. Cora, she explained, was played by Elizabeth McGovern — last seen, at least by me, playing the fetchingly naked Broadway showgirl Evelyn Nesbit in Ragtime, the 1981 film adaptation of E.L. Doctorow’s epic novel. But I digress. “That’s just half the intrigue going on upstairs,” her ladyship continued. “Then there’s Mary, the beautiful eldest daughter who is falling in love with Matthew Crawley — the heir who turns out to be quite handsome and likable — even though she’s hiding a terrible secret, the fact that a Turkish diplomat’s son died in her bed. And, oh, don’t forget Mr. Bates. Lovely Mr. Bates, such a man’s man . . .” “Who could forget Bates?” I asked from faraway California. “But it sounds like you need an official game program to keep all the hanky-panky straight.” “No,” she came back, “you just need to watch the program. Trust me, you’ll get hooked just like the rest of us.” She mentioned a colleague at the college where she works who’d managed to get half the faculty and the entire administrative staff hooked on the series, including a dozen secretaries, two vice presidents and half the board of governors. “Have no doubt. You’ll soon be mad for it, too. Must run now, dear boy. Have to get back to Mr. Bates.” Naturally, I scoffed. You see, I’m an ardent and unapologetic Anglophile when it comes to many things British — warm beer, Graham Greene, Rumpole of the Bailey, pub food, links golf, no two toilets that flush exactly alike, the early Beatles, even cold and rainy weather. But I vehemently draw — or did — a bold line when it comes to watching anything about the royal family or British drawing room costume dramas of any sort unless they involve sword fights and the possibility of full frontal nudity (purely for the sake of historical authenticity). In the early 1970s, to cite a prime example, as a highly impressionable college freshman, I fell in for a brief time with a number of brainy English lit types in order to pursue a most attractive young woman in my British Romantic Poets class who could quote Virginia Woolf with the best of any post-Bloomsbury intellectual. Prospects for l’amour seemed bright when she invited me to a special dinner party celebrating Masterpiece Theater’s premiere broadcast of Upstairs Downstairs — the first British costume drama, you may recall, to keep America awake on Sunday nights. Unfortunately I showed up at her fete wearing faded jeans and a flannel shirt and bearing a six-pack of Rolling Rock only to find everyone else — including my hoped-for — wearing period costumes and sipping Champagne. After a while, I snuck off downstairs to drink beer with the host’s younger brother and catch the end of a Carolina basketball game.

January 2013 P��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


A decade later — same year as Ragtime appeared, by the way — my Atlanta girlfriend (an admitted Masterpiece Theater junkie) organized a series of dress-up dinners for highbrow friends who were mad for Brideshead Revisited, another tedious British import based on a novel so God-awful the author himself once described it as “appalling” in a famous 1950 letter to Graham Greene. After laboring through two or three episodes, I simply couldn’t bear to revisit Brideshead any longer and bailed out on Sunday nights to watch Bonanza. My high-brow girlfriend bailed out on me not long afterward, marrying an Englishman a short time later. Given all this serious serial romantic baggage, you can well apreciate the depth of my surprise and appalling embarrassment when, during a weekend my wife was away at an educational conference, several weeks into DA’s second season, I opened a bottle of Old Peculier and popped my wife’s DVD of season one into the Blu-ray machine, simply to see what all the Downton hullabaloo was about. By the time she returned, I’d polished off all the Old Peculiar and watched the entire season one and — though it pains me to admit — joined the second season mid-stride. Hopelessly hooked, in other words, on my first British costume drama. Strictly between you and me, fellow DA addict, I’ll even confess to taking the special personality quiz for the craziest — oops, meant to say most devoted — Downton fans who wished to see which of the cast of characters they most resembled. My favorite quiz question was as follows: I have a whole weekend to myself. I’m going to: a) What’s a weekend? b) Find some poor soul to help. c) Attend a political rally. d) Make plans to ruin my rival’s life. e) Stay alone in my room and read. f) Attend a jolly good foxhunt followed by billiards and good cigars. g) Get ahead on next week’s work. Truthfully, I don’t recall all of my answers on the wildly popular quiz (which, by the way, it’s not too late to take; simply Google “Downton Abbey Personality Quiz”), though it was pretty rich British irony which character I wound up most resembling. Call me Mr. Bates. Loyal, kind, possibly dim-witted Bates, a man’s man limping nobly though life and dearly beloved by all (save that cellar rat Thomas Barrow) and the lord of the manor, a possible ladykiller in more ways than one. One of the surprises of season two, it had emerged, Mr. Bates — now romantically entwined with a sweet young housemaid called Anna — was the Crown’s leading suspect in the violent death of his estranged wife. “It’s hard to imagine he had anything to do with her death,” my own Dame Wendy dismissed the likelihood out of hand. “But if it’s true, well, she probably deserved to die — clingy and greedy little trollop that she was.” My own ladyship, by the way, maintains that every bit of these unexpected turns of Downton fate — her husband’s surprising conversion to British costume dramas, the mysterious death of Bates’ ex, the coming of world war and flush toilets — were simply the sweet hand of Providence and writer Julian Fellowes jointly at work — and that even I was destined, among other things, to find my inner Mr. Bates and fall hard for the glory of Downton Abbey. Some pop culturists have even advanced the notion that the unprecedented popularity of Downton Abbey — which has spawned several best-selling books and been a boon to the British travel industry — provides a revealing window into the psyches of modern viewers — suggesting that each of us must see something in the personalities of the series’ characters that speaks to us on an individual basis, posing a beguiling question: Whose life at Downton Abbey, given the chance, would you fancy inhabiting — and why? With season three set to make its record-breaking debut on January 6 — fit-

tingly the feast of Epiphany on the Anglican calendar, the modern word meaning a sudden breakthrough in personal perception — and premiere parties reportedly being planned for everywhere from the White House press room to Florida biker bars, it seemed only natural to put the question to PineStraw’s own friends and neighbors, a shocking percentage of whom turn out to be even more addicted than I am to the Crawleys and their meddlesome staff. Look a little closer and you’ll see some of them playing their favorite roles on the cover. “I was kind of embarrassed to discover how much I really liked the series, how easily the story and characters dragged you in,” says Ran Morrissett, a fellow latecomer to the Abbey who cheekily refers to himself in the regal third person as Lord Rantham. “I came to Downton Abbey well into the story. I kept hearing Amy at the Java Bean talking endlessly about the series — making a point to tell me how much I would love the show. It wasn’t until August that I was in a Barnes and Noble and saw the first season DVD and figured, what the hell, I’ll check it out. I plowed through the whole thing in less than two weeks. My girlfriend and I even began getting up at 5 a.m. to watch it before the kids got up. That’s how drawn we were to it.” “I’ve watched it from the beginning and am more drawn to it than ever,” notes Jeanne Paine, type cast as Isobel Crawley for our cover cast. “The costumes, the twists and turns of the story both upstairs and down, it all completely takes me in. I relate to Isobel because she’s so plain-spoken on issues regardless of the consequences and because, well, my mother was named Isobel. Like her, I’m a widow too. My late husband lived in a world of servants — or at least in his head. He was from Louisville, Kentucky, which may explain it.” PineStraw columnist and redoubtable social observer Deborah Salomon has her own explanation for the drama’s ever-widening popularity. “It’s the definition of eye candy for adults and anyone who has any inkling of history. We’re all fascinated by where we come from, and though few of us can relate directly to Edwardian times, everything that happens to these people in their well-mannered lives is just as real today as it was back then — the class distinctions, the sacrifices and snobberies, sex and money, romantic intrigue and even mother-in-law problems. It’s all still around. They just make it so irresistible to watch.” Some fans, on the other hand, can trace their obsession to their roots. “I’ve always adored the British dramas on Masterpiece Theater,” says Sheryl Comer, “and have a strong passion for anything from the Edwardian and Victorian eras. I collect antiques and jewelry from that time and have, for instance, a real piece of the queen’s mourning jewelry from that era, made from coal. I never quite knew why I was so attracted to that time until my mother’s genealogy turned up the curious fact that we are related to Lady Godiva [the 13th century English noblewoman who rode naked through the streets of Coventry to protest her husband’s unfair taxes on the people] of all people, whose courage and ingenuity I’ve since come to greatly admire. That’s the kind of spirited behavior you see in characters like Sybil in Downton Abbey. Given these antecedents, it’s no surprise Comer was a fan of the series from the first minute of episode one, and became something of a one-woman force of nature promoting the series at Sandhills Community College. “It’s true,” she allows with a charming laugh. “I’ve bought all the videos and books and placed them in the hands of I suppose eight or nine people, all of whom have become big fans. About the only thing on my bucket list, to be honest, is for my daughter Morgan and me to go see Highclere Castle, where the series is filmed. I love getting as close to the authenticity of it as possible, just the way we did with Lady Godiva in Coventry.” Which, madam, begs another intriguing question. Anything, well, significant about your plans for celebrating the third season’s debut? Dare we ask, might her ladyship plan to catch the much-anticipated premiere in a manner made famous by your celebrated ancestor? “Don’t be silly,” Comer says with a dismissive laugh worthy of dowager Violet Crawley herself. “But even if I did, they just did everything behind closed doors in those days. I’d never tell the likes of you.” Which, translated, means: Mr. Bates always knows his proper place. PS

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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W e A r e D ow n t o n A bb e y Photography by Tim Sayer Costuming by Mary McKeithen Hair, Makeup and Styling by Andy Pellegrino, Molly Schrader, Chance Cobb, Megan Weitzel, Meridith Martens

As the most popular period drama in PBS history prepares to make its third-season debut on Masterpiece Theater, we politely offer our own visual tribute to suds and social commentary of the aristocratic Crawleys and their delightfully meddlesome servants. Feel free to channel your own inner Lady Violet or Lord Grantham. 50

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In certain kinds of families there’s nothing like a Sunday afternoon stroll on the lawn of the estate to settle affairs and keep

Lord and L ady Grantham (R an Morrissett and Anne Friesen) and their veddy proper daughters Sybil, Edith, and Mary from making mischief with the help.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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Sultry L ady Sybil (Kira Schoenfelder), center, confides her secret plans to run off and

marry ambitious family chauffeur,

Branson, to sisters L ady Mary (Kerriann Hillgrove ), left, and delightfully shocked L ady Edith (Serena Brown). “You did what in the back seat of Mummy’s Rolls?”

Lord Grantham reflects to L ady Violet (Dame Jean Webster) on the endless challenge of managing

affairs in a great house

teeming with hormones.

“You modern fathers are much too permissive,” notes Granny. “In my day, dear boy, we simply locked them in the water closet until they behaved or married them off to some third-

rate count in one of those unfortunate countries no one ever bothers to visit

except on a cheap holiday.”

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Matthew and Mum, a.k.a. Isobel Crawley (Jeanne Paine and Cameron Harris) arrive late for afternoon tea. “Now Matthew, darling,” she advises, “don’t let your sensible head be swelled by this silly grandeur. R emember,

play your cards right and you’ll

soon inherit this Gothic pile and

can sell the whole thing to a rich footballer or Kuwaiti prince.”

The Mums share a warm and fuzzy moment, while Matthew and L ady Mary imagine what a Kuwaiti prince might do to the Victorian fountain.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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Anna, the Head House Maid (Marcella Lincicome), and Mr. Bates (Benjamin Allgood), above, share an

intimate moment recalling their night of fun in the linen closet, while Carson the

Butler (Clive Rose), upper right, palely loiters by the latest newfangled device, the estate’s first telephone. R ight, broody and devious valet-turned Under Butler Thomas Barrow (Paul Brown), ponders his next insidious move.

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M eet tHe Cast

A peep behind the scenes: Left to right: Clive Rose, huntsman; Benjamin Allgood, firefighter/ EMT and yoga instructor; Marcella Lincicombe, yoga studio owner/ instructor; Paul Brown, artist; Meridith Martens, artist; Cameron Harris, yoga instructor; Jean Webster, realtor; Ran Morrissett, golf guru and businessman; Anne Friesen, director of Friend To Friend; Jeanne Paine, photographer; Kerriann Hillgrove, sales associate; Andy Pellegrino, salon owner/stylist; Serena Brown, writer/ editor; Chance Cobb, stylist; Kira Schoenfelder, graphic designer; Molly Schrader, makeup/stylist; Megan Weitzel, makeup/stylist. Shot on location at Pine Knoll, Southern Pines

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P January 2013

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PineStraw Oral History Project Photography and Story by Cassie Butler

oral history

T

TOM & NANCY HOWE

om and Nancy Howe have lived in Pinebluff for more than half a century. They own and operate Aurora Hills Farm with their sons Tommy and Johnny. But neither of them was born in Moore County. Tom hails from Hamlet and Nancy from Buffalo, New York. Tom spent his childhood traveling back and forth. Each year his curriculum was split between Pinehurst and New York State schools. Growing up, Nancy was best friends with Tom’s sister Muff Tate. “She and I were schoolmates, so that made it easier to get to know the older brothers,” Nancy says. “I haven’t spoken to her since,” Tom jokes. Tom remembers just about anything a full-timer would know about Moore County. “I remember when Morganton Road was a dirt road. Half the streets in Pinehurst were clay. I can remember all where Pinehurst Lake is, that was all dairy farm. Where Jackson Hamlet is, all that was grape vineyards as far as you could see. And everywhere were peach orchards back then.” Luckily, Muff invited Nancy to Moore County during sixth grade spring vacation. Nancy flew down and stayed for a couple of weeks. She instantly loved it. One memory of her first trip stands out. Every spring around Easter, Pinehurst would have a gymkhana with all kinds of horse events. “There was a costume ride, and Tom’s mother got very enthusiastic about all these things and so I was the Easter bunny. They made us a chicken wire basket to make it look like I was a bunny in a basket and I had ears on my head. All this contraption on top of a horse! I was lucky that my horse didn’t run away with me!” But Nancy loved Pinehurst in the spring.

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Tom and Nancy started dating years down the road. Usually, they went to the Aberdeen movie theater. “If it had rained a lot, sometimes you couldn’t hear the movie too good because of the frogs — it flooded in the movie theater — and the frogs would be going ribbet, ribbet,” Tom says with a laugh. Tom was a country boy. That’s what Nancy liked so much about him. His parents had a huge dairy farm in New York state with close to 500 head of cattle. In 1955, his parents sold their business in Buffalo, moved to Pinehurst full time and put all their effort into their nursery business, Clarendon Gardens. Four years later, Tom and Nancy married and followed his parents to Moore County. When Tom went to work for his father, top pay was $35 a week. To supplement their income, Nancy taught private swimming lessons, volunteered with Girl Scouts and helped with a troubled youth program. In 1970, Tom’s father sold his property to Diamondhead and Tom started his own nursery, Aurora Hills, on the 700 acres surrounding his home in Pinebluff. “We just had to keep going,” Nancy says. “When you buy land and invest in the equipment, you have to keep going. You can’t just say, ‘Oh, I don’t want to do this anymore.” “But there are rewards of doing landscaping,” Nancy says. “Beautifying the community: I think that is a very rewarding part of the business. At least it makes it worthwhile, all the work.” Ever since Tom’s sons have taken over the family business, Tom works seven days a week on the farm. He does all the field work and makes the hay. He says he never wants to retire. “I want to drop dead out there in the field.”

Boy meets girl. The rest is Sandhills history

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oral history

NATHANIEL & BLANCHIE CARTER They never saw the world in black and white, and their lessons continue

B

lanchie Carter was born in Carthage. She has lived life thus far — minus her college years — in Moore County. Her husband, Nathaniel Carter, known to most everyone as “Nat,” was born in Richmond, Virginia, but attended college in North Carolina and has yet to leave the state. Both studied to be teachers and met as adults at Pinckney High School in Carthage, now Pinckney Academy, where Blanchie graduated. The year was 1965 — Blanchie’s first year out of college teaching at West Southern Pines and Nat’s second year teaching at Pinckney. At the time, both schools taught only black children. Before integration, Moore County had no shortage of schools. About every community had two “union” schools — first through twelfth grade — one for blacks, one for whites. West End, Pinehurst, Aberdeen, Southern Pines, Robbins, Vass, Carthage — each had its own schools. Because all the grades were in one school, Nat says it was more like a family because so many siblings attended the same school. The rivalry among the different community schools was tough, especially between Aberdeen and Southern Pines, recalls Nat. And he should know, because in 1966, Nat began teaching at Aberdeen High School, where he would stay for 31 years. Back then, Aberdeen High was a K-12 campus, but when the schools integrated that year, all the community schools consolidated, and Aberdeen High became Aberdeen Middle. When schools consolidated and desegregated, Blanchie was moved from the “black” school in West Southern Pines to Sandhills Farm Life. “I was one of the few black teachers who started teaching in that integrated situation. People were skeptical a little bit on both sides because this was the unknown. This hadn’t happened before.” Looking back, Blanchie says integration went smoothly; she credits this to the school system’s preparation. Blanchie and Nat went to Wrightsville Beach for a workshop. “It was an attempt to learn to work together, to learn likenesses and differences in people. Trying to bridge the gap, trying to get to know people of a different race and the different perspective.” But Nat and Blanchie did what they knew best: They taught children whom they treated like people. One incident that illustrates this was when a man from Health Education and Welfare paid Sandhills Farm Life a visit. “The principal brought the gentleman to my classroom, and the man asked me what was the ratio of children in my class,” Blanchie recalls with a smile. “I said to him, ‘I really think I have maybe more boys than girls.’ That’s not what he was talking about. The most important thing on my mind was that they were children. Part of them were boys and part of them were girls. Not that part of them were black and part of them were white.” Blanchie even remembers her first day teaching at the desegregated school. Since schools were merged, they needed more space and brought in trailers, but Blanchie’s mobile unit wasn’t there from day one so she had to teach on the stage in front of the principal’s office. “My first day of teaching there, several parents — white parents — wanted to stay and did stay. They sat in the auditorium to watch me teach, not long, just for a few minutes. And then they went by the principal’s office and told the principal they thought it was going to be all right. It ended up that I would have parents go

to the principal’s office in years to come requesting that their child be placed in my classroom.” Blanchie and Nat’s place in the school system was secure. Both have been honored by the community and the schools; the Abderdeen Elementary School gymnasium bears Nat’s name, and a West Southern Pines park bears Blanchie’s name. “Education has certainly helped shaped my life, and my religious and spiritual beliefs have shaped my life,” says Blanchie. “I think those things helped me to be a good teacher, a good principal, a good wife, a good mother, a good citizen for the community. I just think it goes together. It made me who I am.” Now retired, both devote their time to their church and the Boys and Girls Club of the Sandhills, but neither have given up their passion — life in the schools. Blanchie volunteers at Carthage Elementary and Nat coaches cross country and track and field at Union Pines High School.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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oral history

GEORGANNE AUSTIN Life evolves into a love affair with a small town

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G

eorganne Austin didn’t fall in love with Southern Pines immediately. She was born in Kentucky and moved to Southern Pines in 1941 when her father’s employer, the telephone company, transferred him. Austin was 17. They arrived the weekend of the famous Stoneybrook Steeplechase in the middle of March. As a result, there was no room in the inn — and they ended up in the attic of a big house. Austin came down with the flu. “So I didn’t think much about North Carolina when I got here,” Austin says. A week later, her family had a house of their own. They were here to stay. As a junior, Austin left a beautiful two-story high school behind. “The building here was an old, old thing. Not well heated, no cooling, oiled wooden floors. If you wanted to eat you had to bring a sandwich. It was quite a change.” Another con to moving was not just leaving her high school friends behind but also a tall red-haired trumpet player. Now Austin hardly looks back — she’s been here for seventy-one years. It all turned upward one night when a girl came over to Austin and wrote her number down on a matchbook box. “I got to know somebody. But even so, there wasn’t much to do in Southern Pines. One movie at 8:30 at night. There was a place called Scotties to go and dance.” And Austin loved to dance. Scotties was where Richmond Rentals is today. “I didn’t drink beer, but you could get a beer for a dime and a steak sandwich for a quarter. That’s where the kids gathered because they had a large dance floor. It was a nice place, it wasn’t a dive,” she says. “Years ago, the stores used to close on Wednesday afternoons. Overton’s drugstore was open and you could still go down and get a marshmallow coke for a nickel. Nobody but a group of teenagers would think of something like that,” Austin laughs. After high school, Austin worked at the old Pine Needles Hotel as a telephone operator. “At that point, the Air Force had taken over the hotel, and I think almost every gal in Moore County worked there.” She made $105 a month and her husband made $80 a month as an apprentice mortician. Once her husband began Austin Business Supply, things improved financially. Southern Pines was a sleepy town back in those days. “It has progressed so beautifully, especially in the past twentyfive years. I’m sure everybody feels as I do about it; it’s just a great place to be. It’s a great place to live.” Austin never thought she’d see large shopping areas or highways spring up, “but that’s what happens with progress,” she says optimistically. Austin especially loves her community at Belle Meade, where she has lived for thirteen years. “There’s lots of lovely people here. It’s very pleasant.” She certainly wouldn’t dream of living anyplace else.

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oral history

JEANNE OVERTON PAINE Social butterfly, then and now

M

ost people know Jeanne Paine through her father, Red Overton, who owned and operated Sandhill Drug Company in downtown Southern Pines. Back in the ’30s, there were three drugstores on Broad Street, and all three store owners were great friends. “That was typical of Southern Pines at the time. You didn’t have such rivalry. You were rivals but you were still very friendly and nice,” Paine says. Paine and her family lived within walking distance of Broad Street; everyone on their street owned a downtown business. “The Bakers owned the grocery store and the Patches had Patches Department Store where the Ice Cream Parlor is now, but they were upstairs and downstairs,” Paine explains. She and the Patches’ daughter were close friends growing up. Their idea of fun was going to the Patches’ department store to try on and pick out clothes before they were put out for the public. “We didn’t realize then we had such special privileges,” Paine says with a laugh. Sure, Paine’s life revolved around friends and social things, but her family was musically inclined. “My mother had great ambition for me,” Paine says, but she wasn’t fond of piano lessons. “As early as I can remember, I wanted a horse. I don’t know why I wanted a horse; no one else in my family rode. But every Christmas or birthday, I asked for a horse.” Her birthday wish finally came true when she turned 13, and Paine rode for the very first time. “I was hooked. I just loved it,” Paine says about her first time horseback riding. It wasn’t long before Paine started foxhunting and then began riding with Ginnie Moss. That’s when her father picked up the sport. “He decided that it was so much fun so he started hunting. It was really the most pleasurable thing he did because he worked hard at the drugstore,”

Paine says. Most of Red’s customers were foxhunters who went up North for the summer, so Paine’s father mailed them their prescriptions. From an early age, Red instilled in his children the importance of education. But Paine enjoyed the social aspects more, and still does. Paine and her horseback-riding girlfriends were attached at the hip. “Teachers did not like to see us coming because we would laugh and talk about horses most of the time rather than focus on our school.” An example of Paine’s school mischief was when she was at Southern Pines High. Paine and two friends, one being Faye Sadler, decided they’d go to school to pick up their report cards . . . on horseback. “The principal did not think horses tied on campus was quite the thing so we were told to leave immediately and we did not get our report cards. I guess our parents had to pick them up. We were always trying to do things like that.” What happened in those days seem minor compared with today’s problems. Paine did go to college, but like with music, she rejected her family’s expectations. She chose pharmacy school at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill but decided to change majors and study education. Back in those days, only a handful of women were accepted to UNC-CH as undergraduates. It was a men’s school; Woman’s College in Greensboro was the female version. Since Paine changed majors, she couldn’t stay at UNC-CH so she transferred to South Carolina. “I really enjoyed it because it wasn’t as difficult as the chemistry,” Paine says. Once she got her degree, she taught for twenty-seven years in South Carolina, Florida and Moore County. About eight years ago, Paine picked up photography as a hobby. She still foxhunts, but on her own two feet chasing after the best photos. And of course you’ll find her socializing at all the hunt breakfasts, too.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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oral history

DR. BRUCE WARLICK The happy dentist

D

r. Bruce Warlick’s home was between Gastonia and Charlotte, in a little town called Ranlo. At age 7, he decided he wanted to be a dentist. “I loved my old dentist. We didn’t go often because those were the Depression days, but I always enjoyed and admired him and I thought, ‘Well, that’s a pretty good life, to be a dentist. I think I’ll be a dentist.’ And so there I went.” In the little town of Ranlo, schools were in session for only eight months of the year and had eleven grades. So at the age of 16, Warlick left Ranlo to study at Wake Forest College. Upon completion, he got accepted to dental school at the Medical College of Virginia in Richmond. He married during his senior year. “It was the most wonderful time — I had arrived to where I wanted to be,” Warlick recalls. In 1946, Warlick came to Aberdeen to practice with Dr. Erbie Medlin. Three months later, he was drafted into the Army by the Moore County Draft Board. He was assigned to Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, and hung around the Alamo for six months before being assigned to Fort Jackson, South Carolina. “All my classmates were sent to Korea and Europe and I was sick because all I was sent to was to Fort Jackson, South Carolina. I wanted to go someplace. When you’re that age you want to get out of Dodge; you want to go wherever you could go.” But Warlick finished his obligation to the government so that Uncle Sam would pay for his dental education. Then he came back to Aberdeen and after nearly a year of working with Dr. Medlin again, he opened his own practice on Broad Street in Southern Pines, where he practiced for 44 years until he sold it to Dr. Richard Gant. “It didn’t take long for me to get sand in my shoes. I had intended to go to Winchester, Virginia, to practice — halfway between my wife’s home in Ohio and my home in Gastonia. But I found the people in the Sandhills were absolutely fantastic.” Here they stayed. The first year his office was open, in 1949, there were two waiting rooms: one for whites, one for blacks. When Jim Crow laws ended the next year, he did away with the two waiting rooms. “I had wonderful black patients as well as wonderful white patients.” Warlick recalls that Moore County never really had a racial problem. When the high schools in the area were consolidated (from fourteen to three), Warlick said that helped the towns from having racial problems. “That’s due to Voit Gilmore and Felton Capel. I give them credit for sowing the proper seeds of opening the theaters, the restaurants, and opening the schools. So that is one reason our educational system has been good. They weren’t fighting each other, they were working with each other.” Warlick was a spectator at the horse races, but he didn’t ride. He bought golf clubs and joined the Country Club of North Carolina, but he never played. Still, he was hooked. “In the beginning, I didn’t realize the importance of this area. Before I came, it had the pine tar industry. And as the Mosses were here, the horse industry grew.” Warlick has been involved with many causes over the years. “I don’t think the town changed me, I think what I tried to do was change the town,” he says. Warlick fundraised for the Chamber of Commerce, was a Boy Scout troop leader for fifteen years and is on the Eagle review board today. He took part in the Sandhills Music Association and “sat on a bank and missed my dinners many a-night” to little league baseball when his kids were young. “I believe the only way you can love an area is to be a part of it,”

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he says. He’s sung in two barbershop quartets, served on the board of zoning adjustment and belongs to the Kiwanis, Rotary and Lions Clubs. But he’s backed off in recent years. “There comes a time in your life when you need to kick back and let new people take over positions in churches, in schools and in the community. Sometimes we old guys want to hang on and hang on and hang on, and my view is that it’s a terrible mistake. I think old people need to back off and let new people move into the society.” He once sang in the choir and taught Sunday School at Brownson Memorial Church, but now he only attends religiously. “I do profess to being a Christian. If I’m on two feet, I go to church every Sunday if I’m here. It may not help the church, but it sure does help for me to be able to thank God for the blessings I have received.” Dentistry has always been an important part of Warlick’s life. With 4,000 patient charts in his old office, a lot of people will always remember Dr. Warlick as their family dentist. “My sense of humor has taken me a long way. All my patients would tell you, I told jokes, I sang, I did everything.”

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oral history

LOUISE BUCHAN Life comes full circle on one faithful block

L

ouise Buchan has deep roots not only in Aberdeen, but in one specific block in Aberdeen. “I’ve continued to live on this block except when I went off to college and then when my husband, Lee, went off to college, because he went to college after we got married,” Buchan explains. She points to High Street, parallel to her house on Main Street, and says her grandmother and mother lived there. Louise was born in that house because her parents’ house on the adjacent road, Pine Street, wasn’t finished. All her previous homes back into the same square plot of land. Buchan remembers a happy childhood of neighborhood kids playing in her backyard. After school, the town would block off the street in front of their Main Street house for roller skating. “I thought that was nice because we didn’t have a park, or anywhere, really, to play except for our own yards,” Buchan says. “I loved to roller skate and we had lots of good times there. Of course we had lots of little busted knees, but we all survived that.” She remembers all the towns in Moore County had baseball teams back then too, and the games were on Wednesday afternoons. “When they were playing, everything closed up because everyone went to the ball game. I mean, you couldn’t buy a loaf of bread or anything. Stores and everything closed. You’d see the little sign ‘gone to the game.’” The stores in Aberdeen were open until 8 or 9 p.m. Her father owned an automobile business called Martin Motor Company, where Potter’s Café is now. “He’d come home and eat supper and then a lot of times Mother and I would go back down to the garage with him. We’d watch the traffic. That was the fun thing to do because people were going into the stores and getting out of their cars. They’d stop and talk. You really got to know people

and visit. We don’t visit much anymore. We lose touch. I think that’s one reason people are not as close as they were back then.” Buchan remembers the polio epidemic in 1935. “Kids weren’t allowed on the street, in grocery stores or anywhere. So Mother let me drive to entertain me.” This is how Buchan learned how to parallel park at age 12. One of Buchan’s earliest hardships was the sudden death of her father, who died from a heart attack, when she was 14. “That was really a blow,” Buchan begins. “Of course Mother was left with me, a teenage girl, and she had never worked a day in her life. She didn’t know one thing about the garage except she went there to get her gas for the car.” Buchan’s mother did what she had to do: She learned how to run a business, and she ran it for more than thirty years. Buchan and her mother shared the love of trying new things. In 1938, they hopped on the train for New York to see the World’s Fair. “We got off that train and we didn’t know where in the world we were. It was so big. People were just like ants moving around and I was scared. That was so different from here. We could go here to the train station, but it wasn’t anything like that.” Traveling made Buchan well-rounded, and she left Aberdeen behind to go to Washington, D.C., for college. Ginnie Moss, who was giving Buchan riding lessons at the time, told her to go to the same college she attended, National Park College. And so she did. But she returned home after getting her degree, and then kept books for various companies over the years. Details of Buchan’s children’s childhoods parallel her own. Then and now, Aberdeen resists the winds of change.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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oral history

PARKER HALL Brought here by golf, a life well lived

P

arker Hall discovered Pinehurst in June 1950 during summer break from Princeton. Hall, an avid golfer, decided to visit friends in Pinehurst. He immediately fell in love with the area. “I drove into town and there wasn’t a light on anywhere. I couldn’t even find my friend’s home so I stayed at a motel in Southern Pines — the only motel in Southern Pines at that time — called the Pinehurst Motel. And it was in Southern Pines.” Even during his eleven-year-career as a broker in New York, Pinehurst called him back. He’d take the Friday evening train arriving in Pinehurst about 9 a.m., Saturday. “You’d go out and play thirty-six holes on Saturday, eighteen holes on Sunday, go to a cocktail party and then get on the train and be at your desk at nine in the morning. I did that a number of times.” Hall spent two or three winter months in a little house he rented on McDonald Road. “That was the only street sign in Pinehurst. There were no lights or stoplights — just one ‘McDonald Road.’ I had a grand time that winter and got interested in harness horses through Mr. Octave Blake, who owned the Newport Stock Farm,” Hall recalls. That’s when the golfer and swimmer turned to the new sport of harness racing. Hall owned a couple of horses at a time. He trained them himself at the Pinehurst Harness Track. He was in the harness horse business, what he calls the “pleasure business” for more than forty years. But golf was still a big part of his life. When Hall moved to Pinehurst in 1963, he started Pinehurst Golf School, where he taught the sport to children. “I had as many as eighty children in the golf school and Mr. Tufts let me have the whole range up there and those qualified could go out and play at certain times. It was really neat. There were probably as many in my golf school than people living in Pinehurst then. It was really, really deserted.” When Pinehurst changed hands from the Tufts family to Diamondhead, Hall sold the golf school. “Diamondhead wanted to run it and charge kids for it and what not. I charged two dollars. I don’t know what the hell Diamondhead charged them. And that was the beginning and the end of Pinehurst — the old Pinehurst.” Hall remembers the day Diamondhead took over Pinehurst. “There was a huge snowstorm and the golf courses were closed for a week,” Hall says. He remembers another big snowstorm in that same decade, a happier memory. “I got a horse and sleigh from down at the stable and gave kids rides all around town. Not sitting behind one of my race horses, though.” When Diamondhead went bankrupt, the banks took over Pinehurst until Club Corp bought it in 1984. Hall speaks highly of Club Corp. “They upgraded everything around Pinehurst and I think people — everybody — should be very pleased with what happened and what could have happened and didn’t.” What could have been a blur of memories — from countless cocktail parties entertaining various celebrities in his hundred-year-old house to Pinehurst changing ownership over the years — Hall knows his life has been enriched from being in the land of the longleaf pines. “It’s made me more broadminded than in the past.” But how? He’d rather not go into that.

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oral history

DEIRDRE DUNDAS NEWTON She never found Roy Rogers, but she did find home

D

eirdre Newton has an elegant British accent even though she moved across the ocean to Southern Pines when she was a child. Her mother was American, her father English. During World War II, they lived in Scotland with their five children. They sailed on the Queen Elizabeth from Scotland to New York and took the overnight train to Southern Pines to visit her mother’s parents, who owned and operated a hotel called Skyline Manor, behind Hyland Golf Club on U.S. 1. “I really remember it. I remember it so clearly,” Newton recalls of that first journey. “My father was a semi-invalid and my youngest sister, Alexandra, was just a baby, six months old. We had something like forty or fifty pieces of luggage. I don’t know how my mother managed it.” She recalls her excitement. “We had been in school in Scotland. And during WWII, it was pretty dire. Life was not like what it was in America, I can tell you that. We were absolutely amazed by everything in America. Our friends in Scotland were so jealous. Everyone wanted to go to America. American soldiers were the great heroes. It was a very big deal that we were going to America. We thought we were going to see wide open prairies, and we thought we were going to see Roy Rogers riding Trigger.” Of course she didn’t see any cowboys, but Newton points out that the landscape in Southern Pines was much different than she was used to. “Even though it wasn’t wide open prairie, the landscape compared to England and Scotland was very wide open. And there were all those trees — pine trees — beside U.S. 1 as we were driving up to Skyline. I thought, there were no hedges, no fences. And that struck me.” Even the forest was wide open, recalls Newton. The pine trees were much smaller since they had been clear cut in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Her impression of Americans was that everyone was so kind. Her uncle greeted them when they got to Skyline Manor. “He slapped us on the back and said, ‘Hiya, pal!’” Newton says with a chuckle. “No one in England ever did that.”

It didn’t take long before Newton’s family decided to stay. The climate was better for her father, who was ill following service in the British Navy. Newton went to private school at The Arc on Indiana Avenue; she graduated from Southern Pines High School in 1951. While she was studying at Duke, her father passed away. Her mother and two youngest siblings moved to Washington, D.C., where her mother could find better employment. Newton’s life was shaped by women’s roles — and her English ancestry. She was always nostalgic for her childhood in England. After college, Newton worked in London for two years. After a breakup, she wondered where she belonged: England or America. She decided to come home. First Newton moved to Washington, but not without a Southern Pines connection. Newton’s future husband’s aunt, Catherine McCall, lived in Southern Pines, and was in the same train car as Newton’s family when they came from England. They became good friends. Catherine’s niece lived in D.C. and became friends with Newton, who later introduced her to her brother — now Newton’s husband of 51 years. “This area has always drawn me back,” Newton says. This feeling wasn’t so strong until the years her husband worked at Pinehurst Surgical Clinic and she raised three children. “Three stages of my life have been in Southern Pines. It’s interesting to remember what it was like when I was a teenager. It was very different from what it is now.” In that second stage of life in Southern Pines, the area became what Newton always thought was her home. Though she and her husband were always restless and excited to move to the next place, after their ten years in Southern Pines — ending in 1979 — Newton told her husband that she wanted to retire in Southern Pines. “It was my idea,” she says. And in 1996, they did. PS

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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Victoria Lopez (back left) on the porch of her new house, with (left to right) Elias, Soloman, Gabrielle, Zach, Titus and Abigail

Story of a house

Homing Instinct

V

How a Mother’s resolve and a community’s compassion brought the Lopez family home to a house of their own

By Deborah Salomon • Photographs by John Gessner

ictoria Lopez, single mom of six, is moving from an unheated double-wide to a bright, spacious, energy-efficient five-bedroom home built by Women Build/Habitat for Humanity on Victory Lane in Aberdeen. “I just love that name,” beams Lopez. Behind this declaration brews a story with a happy holiday ending, the first step in an even happier beginning. Because, as Sandhills Habitat executive director Elizabeth Cox says, “I see the success (of obtaining proper housing) for the parent. But it’s the kids who benefit, long-term, from a safer neighborhood. They do better in school and aren’t as likely to get into trouble.” To their mother’s credit, the handsome Lopez children ranging in age from 17 to 7 —

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Every Saturday, the construction gang’s all here — at the Midway Gardens construction site.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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Story of a house

Footprint of house will be expanded to include play and sleeping space for Elias, 7.

Gabriella, Soloman, Abigail, Titus, Zach — already display an upbeat attitude, do well in school and divide household chores, which include caring for their special needs brother, Elias. But the thought of having one’s own room is, well, “Awesome,” Titus says. “I’ll have a closet for my clothes instead of stuffing them in one dresser,” adds 13-year-old Abigail. “And I get to pick out the color of my room — aqua.” Victoria chose to divide the 1,400 square feet into many smaller bedrooms instead of fewer larger ones for this reason. Adaptations to several architect-designed models are possible; Victoria also requested her walk-in closet be finished as a sleeping nook for Elias, who needs supervision. However, Habitat has decided to extend the footprint to include a playroom and third bathroom to help with his needs. The house has a deck off the dining area and a covered front porch. Included also are landscaping and a shed. The house with basic appliances and a full sprinkler system costs about $85,000. Federal grants covered Midway Gardens infrastructure. Victoria’s monthly payments, which include a no-interest 25-year mortgage and taxes — approximately $350. Down payment: $600. Because of its high energy rating utilities on the centrally air-conditioned space will be low. Time from approval to move-in: about a year.

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T

he road ending on Victory Lane was uphill for Victoria, originally from New Orleans. “We lived in apartments, rental houses and (mobile homes) — never a new house.” She and her husband occupied double-wides throughout their marriage. Victoria’s expression, more than words, reveals the details leading up to a divorce in 2008, which left her in financial shambles. Depression descended. “I cried all the time . . . I saw no future for us,” she recalls. Her job in a school cafeteria was not sufficient, so she took a second, in a restaurant. Her rent on the double-wide was $750 plus $350 for utilities, mostly electric heaters, which were responsible, eventually, for a fire. That fire kindled another one under Victoria: She must obtain safe housing for her children. Then, providentially, the words of a hymn came to mind: “ . . . strength for today, bright hope for tomorrow.” These words became her mantra. Victoria heard about Habitat from volunteer Ken Rahal during a divorce recovery group at Grace Church in Southern Pines. Habitat is a faith-based nonprofit initiative that, since its inception in 1976, has built 500,000 homes worldwide. Habitat for Humanity of the Sandhills has guided 200 families into home ownership since 1988. Twenty-two homes are under construction on the Midway Gardens site — but only one by Women Build.

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To each, his/her own room — a first for the Lopez children (clockwise) Titus, Abigail, Soloman and Zach

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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R

Story of a house

ahal, a retired U.S. Justice Department agent, was impressed with Victoria’s story — and her resolve. “She was very sincere and forthcoming,” he says. “I could tell she had been through an awful lot.” From Rahal Victoria learned that to qualify for housing an applicant must live in substandard housing, earn less than 30-60 percent of local median income, have no bad debts, be willing to perform 300 sweat equity hours per adult on her site and others. Victoria participated in caulking windows, framing and painting. Gabriella, at 17, is old enough to contribute hours. “Volunteers (and prospective homeowners) don’t need construction skills,” says Elizabeth Cox. “We provide free on-the-job training,” some from Habitat’s national partner, Lowe’s Home Improvement Centers Victoria felt anxious about the application process and thrilled when approved. “When my oldest first heard about (Habitat) she said no, she was embarrassed to get charity,” Victoria recalls. Habitat addresses this with the hand up, not hand out philosophy. “I explained to her that we were buying this home, paying for it and helping build it, too,” Victoria continues. “Then she said OK.” Construction began on September 8. The Women Build 12-member crew (plumbing and electrical subcontracted out) is supervised by foreman Ryan Archer, 26, who chose to use his degree in construction engineering for a higher cause. He enjoys working with women. “When you tell a woman to do something, she does exactly what you say. That’s great.” Archer senses an excitement, a willingness to learn in his crew. “I try not to micromanage,” he says. On a sunny November Saturday, volunteers removed hard hats and bowed

their heads in prayer before the beautiful lunch contributed by a local restaurant. One worker said her weekly stint was a combination of exercise, education and fellowship. “I never knew doing God’s work could be so much fun.” Habitat does not require recipients to have any religious affiliation or belief structure. But prayer is also part of the dedication ceremony held inside each completed house. Most dedications are quite emotional, Elizabeth Cox says, in a way that people of better means may not comprehend. A house built of siding and Sheetrock with wood-grained vinyl floors and the odd crooked corner owns a grandeur unmatched by any Pinehurst mansion. It basks not in hand-painted wallpaper and mahogany paneling, but rather in appreciation. Three bathrooms, a laundry room and efficient climate control systems mean more to the Lopez family than a wine cellar or kidney-shaped pool. Everything is new — and works. Whatever furnishings they need can be found at the Habitat store. But reality won’t dawn until early January, when the Lopez family moves in. “If you would have told me two years ago when I was crying all the time that I would get a new home I’d never have believed it,” Victoria says. “It’s a miracle.” Now, with her life under control, Victoria has started a one-woman home-and-office cleaning business. The children will make friends on the Midway Gardens cul-de-sac. Maybe somebody will donate a basketball hoop. Victoria Lopez hopes the experience serves as a role model. “This teaches children to give back,” the proud mother says. “I hope mine will continue to volunteer for Habitat.” PS

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By Noah Salt January, month of white sales and empty pockets, begins with a hangover and ends with a minor head cold. In between, a gloriously quiet month meant contemplation and planning. We love January because it isn’t all demanding — too late for Christmas shopping, too early for garden labor — has clear night skies and clarifying cold. Voices travel miles. Hearts huddle by the fire. Sunny walks are a treasure. “There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you,” notes Ruth Stout. “In spring, summer and fall, people sort of have an open season on each other; only in winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.” The Almanac Gardener couldn’t agree more.

Go Jump off a Chair If black-tie and black-eyed peas strike you as somewhat tame New Year traditions, perhaps this year you should try these international traditions: In Ecuador and Bolivia, revelers don bright yellow underpants outside their clothes on New Year’s Eve to bring good luck or at least make for interesting photographs. In Mexico, orange underpants are favored, as is lots of tequila. In the Philippines, people traditionally don clothing with circular patterns, allegedly guaranteeing more money in the new year. Chileans visit graveyards to sit with departed ancestors on New Year’s Eve, and Panamanians parade through the streets holding effigies of famous people. Last year, for reasons entirely unknown, Donald Trump was big. The hair, probably. In Spain, revelers assemble on street corners at midnight to eat twelve grapes for good luck. In Scotland, “first footing” is an old New Year tradition — meaning the first person over your theshold in the New Year is asked to bring a gift, typically a bottle of good Scotch. Finally there is a small town in Sweden where carolers sing in the nude, upstaging neighboring Danes who save up their old china plates through the year just to smash them on New Year’s Day. Danes are also wont to climb on chairs and collectively jump off at the stroke of midnight to assure good fortune and only minor sprained ankles.

The Catalog Season Cometh & A Few Tips If you’re like the somewhat lazy Almanac Gardener, nothing heralds spring gardening season like the arrival of garden and seed catalogs come January. White Flower Farm’s and Johnny’s Seeds have been reliable old friends for

decades, but a highly useful mail order resource we’ve discovered is Cyndi’s Catalog of Garden Catalogs, a terrific one-stop shopping resource for generalized and specialized catalogs in the United States and Canada, everything from aquatic plant suppliers to wildflower seeds, heirloom veggies to house plants. From experience the AG has found a great daylily source and a fantastic English garden tool company that offers hard-to-find tools. The site: www.Gardenlist.com. Meanwhile, the short list of January garden duties this month: • If your ground isn’t frozen, now’s a great time to turn the soil in your veggie garden and annual beds. This exposes any insect larvae to birds and will eliminate many other pests with the next freeze. • Start plotting out your spring garden now. January is a good time to start seeds indoors and have slow-growing, cold-loving plants ready to transplant before the last frost. They include broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, parsley, onions, chives, sage, cilantro and thyme. • Use a warm January afternoon to take a good look at your garden — and those of others, as well. The winter bones will tell you more about your garden’s strengths and weaknesses than just about anything else. • A good time for a final clean-up and rethinking of your garden space. Judicious pruning of some deciduous trees and shrubs can begin. Finally, this late-breaking news: The North Carolina Herb Association is forming a new chapter, the Piedmont Regional Herb Society, aimed at providing programs on how to identify and use herbs for health and culinary purposes, network with other growers and share tips and resources. For further information contact camille.edwards@aol.com.

Good Enough to Eat Since we really can’t grow flowers in January, what about eating them? An adventurous cook of our acquaintance sent over her list of edible flowers from Schott’s Food & Drink Miscellany: marigold, marjoram, thyme, hyssop, saffron, chive, fennel, daisy, peppermint, hollyhock, lavender, sunflower, tiger lily, dill, citrus, borage, rose, rosemary, nasturtium, bergamot.

OMG January, we find, is a fine time to brush up on your classical gods and goddesses for your next Olympic cocktail party. Allow us:

GREEK Aphrodite Dionysis Zeus Hera Artemis Eros Persephone Athena Eos

DEITY OF love wine ruler of the gods marriage hunting, fields love, desire spring wisdom dawn

ROMAN Venus Bacchus Jupiter Juno Diana Cupid Proserpina Minerva Aurora

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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Wednesday

Weymouth Woods Birdwalk. 8 a.m. Bring in the new year. Meet at the Visitors Center. Free and open to the public. Info: (910) 692-2167. Weymouth Woods Hike. 2 p.m. Hike to the oldest known Longleaf Pine tree. Free and open to the public.

Lunch & Learn. 12:30 – 1:30 p.m. Topic: “New Year, New You.” Treatment options for revealing younger skin includes lunch, gift bags and specials. The Laser Institute of Pinehurst. Info/RSVP: (910) 295-1130. Curry House Night at Sly Fox.

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Local Chef Tutorial. 5 p.m. Curt Shelvey from Curt’s Cucina will give a cooking demo. The Flavor Exchange. Live Music at Circle M City. 7 p.m. Gather at the wild west town’s free music event. Circle M City, 74 Cowboy Lane, Sanford. Info: (919) 499-8493.

Pizza at the Library. 5 – 6 p.m. Southern Pines Public Library. Bourbon tasting at Sly Fox. 6:30 p.m. Taste four different small batch bourbons. Concert Registration. 6:30 p.m. Moore County Choral Society at Brownson Memorial Presbyterian Church.

Preschool Storytime. 3:30 – 4 p.m. Stories, songs, and fun, and then stay for playtime! Southern Pines Public Library. Guest Lecture. 6 p.m. The English Speaking Union welcomes Dr. Henry Williams III. The Country Club of North Carolina. Curry House Night at Sly Fox.

Movie at the Library. 2:30 – 4:30 p.m. Oldies & Goodies film series presents a 1944 musical. Southern Pines Public Library. Given Library’s 50th Anniversary. 3:30 p.m. Audrey Moriarty will talk about the library’s 50th anniversary, and the great expectations for the future.

Storytelling at the Library. 3 p.m. Explorations: a forum for adults presents Hobo Bill & Kristin, Railroad Music and Folklore. Southern Pines Public Library. Rooster’s Wife Concert. 6:46 p.m. Live music from Molasses Creek. The Poplar Knight Spot.

Art Class. 9:30 a.m. – 3:30 p.m. Artists League of the Sandhills. Sandhills Photo Club Meeting. 7 p.m. Hannah Center Theater at The O’Neal School. Live Music at Circle M City. 7 p.m. Gather at the wild west town’s free music event. Circle M City.

Art Class. 10 a.m. – 12 p.m. Drawing people and portraits with Pat McMahon. Artists League of the Sandhills.

Art Class. 10 a.m. – 4 p.m. Advanced alcohol inks: techniques and secrets with Sandy Scott. Artists League of the Sandhills. Preschool Storytime. 3:30 – 4 p.m. Infants and toddlers (ages birth through 5 years). Southern Pines Public Library. Curry House Night at Sly Fox.

Philly for Lunch at Sly Fox. 11:30 a.m. – 4:30 p.m. The Sly Fox Pub. Art Class. 1 – 4 p.m. Introduction to watercolor with Nancy Yanchus. Artists League of the Sandhills.

Rooster’s Wife Concert. 6:46 p.m. Live music from Jack Williams, Jeff Mosier . Dazzling picking, expressive voice, unique and interesting songs from two very fine circuit riders. The Poplar Knight Spot.

Art Class. 10 a.m. – 3 p.m. Follow the leader, Joan Williams as she takes you through a step-by-step beginner oil painting class. Artists League of the Sandhills. Live Music at Circle M City. 7 p.m. Gather at the wild west town’s free music event. Circle M City.

Art Class. 10 a.m. – 12 p.m. Drawing people and portraits with Pat McMahon. Artists League of the Sandhills. Trivia Night at Sly Fox. 6:30 p.m. Do you have what it takes to win this battle of wits? The Sly Fox Pub.

Art Class. 1 – 4 p.m. Notan. Artists League of the Sandhills. Preschool Storytime. 3:30 – 4 p.m. Southern Pines Public Library. Ruth Pauley Lecture Series. 7:30 p.m. Mark Vomund. Sandhills Community College. Curry House Night at Sly Fox.

Art Class. 1 – 4 p.m. Introduction to watercolor with Nancy Yanchus. Artists League of the Sandhills. North Carolina Farmers Series. 6 p.m. Hilltop Beef. Elliott’s on Linden. North Carolina Symphony. 8 p.m. Beethoven’s Fourth Symphony. Pinecrest High.

Rooster’s Wife Concert. 6:46 p.m. Live music from the Sweetback Sisters. A honky-tonk band from Brooklyn. The Poplar Knight Spot, Aberdeen.

Art Class. 10 a.m. – 4 p.m. Learn the basics of drawing an animal, anatomy, structure, gesture and movement. Artists League of the Sandhills. Live Music at Circle M City. 7 p.m. Gather at the wild west town’s free music event. Circle M City.

Art Class. 10 a.m. – 12 p.m. Drawing people and portraits with Pat McMahon. Artists League of the Sandhills. “Women Helping Women” Luncheon. 11:30 a.m. Fundraiser hosted by Friend to Friend. Admission by invitation only. CCNC.

Preschool Storytime. 3:30 – 4 p.m. Infants and toddlers (ages birth through 5 years). Southern Pines Public Library. Curry House Night at Sly Fox.

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Free Cooking Demo. 5 – 6 p.m. A fun way to play with your food using quick, easy, in-season ingredients. The Flavor Exchange.

Monday

Movie at the Library. 2:30 p.m. Kids in grades K-2 and their parents are invited to a movie. Bring a pillow to get comfy and popcorn will be provided. Southern Pines Public Library.

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Free Cooking Demo. 5 – 6 p.m. A fun way to play with your food using quick, easy, in-season ingredients. The Flavor Exchange.

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Free Cooking Demo. 5 – 6 p.m. A fun way to play with your food using quick, easy, in-season ingredients. The Flavor Exchange.

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Free Cooking Demo. 5 – 6 p.m. A fun way to play with your food using quick, easy, in-season ingredients. The Flavor Exchange.


Arts entertainment Saturday Opera at Sunrise Theater. 12 p.m. Berlioz’s Les Troyens. The Met offers a rare opportunity to witness Berlioz’s vast epic. Tickets: $25. Sunrise Theater. Free Cooking Demo. 12 & 2 p.m. “Apples.” Feel good about not only your dessert but your entree’ when you include something as delicious as it is good for you. Elliott’s on Linden. Free Wine Tasting. 12 – 4 p.m. Hugo gruner veltliner. Waltz in the New Year with this crisp, dry, tart white wine. Elliott’s on Linden.

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Free Cooking Demo. 12 & 2 p.m. “Peanuts.” From the legume/bean family and is full of vitamins and minerals. Elliott’s on Linden. Free Wine Tasting. 12 – 4 p.m. Ossiam monastrell. A perfect balance of earth and sweet spice. Elliott’s on Linden.

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Pruning Workshop. 10 a.m. – 12 p.m. Sandhills Community College Horticultural Gardens. Art Class. 10 a.m. – 3 p.m. Painting with paper pulp with Debby Kline. Artists League of the Sandhills. Free Cooking Demo & Wine Tasting. 12 – 4 p.m. “Sweet potatoes.” Licia albarino. Elliott’s on Linden. Opera at the Sunrise Theater. 12:55 p.m. Donizetti’s Maria Stuarda. Sunrise Theater. Barbershop Quartet Concert. 7 p.m.

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January 1

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WEYMOUTH WOODS BIRDWALK. 8 a.m. Celebrate the new year in nature. Meet at the Visitors Center. Free and open to the public. Weymouth Woods,1024 Fort Bragg Road, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-2167. WEYMOUTH WOODS HIKE. 2 p.m. Hike to the oldest known Longleaf Pine tree. Meet at the visitor’s center and carpool to the Boyd Round Timber Tract. Hike is approximately 1.5 miles. No dogs. Free and open to the public. Weymouth Woods,1024 Fort Bragg Road, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-2167.

January 2

include something as delicious as it is good for you. Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775. FREE WINE TASTING. 12 – 4 p.m. Hugo gruner veltliner. Waltz in the New Year with this crisp, dry, tart white wine from the Land of the Blue Danube. Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775.

January 6

MOVIE AT THE LIBRARY. 2:30 p.m. Kids in grades K-2 and their parents are invited to a movie. Princess Merida must rely on her archery skills and bravery in comedic adventure to save her kingdom. Bring a pillow to get comfy, popcorn provided. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: www.sppl.net or (910) 692-8235.

January 7

January 5

LOCAL CHEF TUTORIAL. 5 p.m. Curt Shelvey from Curt’s Cucina will give a cooking demo. The Flavor Exchange, 115 E New Hampshire Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1345.

LUNCH AND LEARN. 12:30 – 1:30 p.m. Topic: “New Year, New You.” Treatment options for revealing younger skin. Includes lunch, gift bags and specials. The Laser Institute of Pinehurst, 80 Aviemore Court, Suite A, Pinehurst. Info/RSVP: (910) 295-1130.

January 8

OPERA AT SUNRISE THEATER. 12 p.m. Berlioz’s Les Troyens. The Met offers a rare opportunity to witness Berlioz’s vast epic. Deborah Voigt, Susan Graham, and Marcello Giordani lead, portraying characters from the Trojan War. Tickets: $25. Sunrise Theater, 250 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8501. FREE COOKING DEMO. 12 & 2 p.m. “Apples.” Feel good about not only your dessert but your entrée when you

PIZZA NIGHT AT THE LIBRARY. 5 – 6 p.m. Pizza with Pizzaz: Recycled Art Night. Create your own art and enjoy free pizza. Bring along objects to use in your artwork. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: www.sppl.net or (910) 692-8235. BOURBON TASTING AT SLY FOX. 6:30 p.m. Taste

Free Cooking Demo. 12 & 2 p.m. “Pecans.” They have been found to be cholesterol lowering, may protect the mind, have weight control qualities and are heart healthy. Elliott’s on Linden. Free Wine Tasting. 12 – 4 p.m. Lelia. A gorgeous Grenache with earthy, smoky raspberry flavors, sweet clove, spicy cinnamon and pepper. Elliott’s on Linden.

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ca l e n da r four different small batch bourbons that are accompanied with a bite from the kitchen and learn something new or just enjoy the beauty of it all. Cost: $16. The Sly Fox Pub, 795 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1621. CONCERT REGISTRATION. 6:30 p.m. Moore County Choral Society will hold open registration for its 38th annual spring classical concert. Rehearsal follows at 7:30 p.m. Brownson Memorial Presbyterian Church, May St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-6979.

January 9

January 14

ART CLASS. 9:30 a.m. – 3:30 p.m. Take your next step and learn to paint using lights and darks (oil/acrylic) with Diane Kraudelt. Cost: $50. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 9443979 or www.artistleague.org. SANDHILLS PHOTO CLUB MEETING. 7 p.m. Program: Hunter Rudd on “Where will photography go next?” Guests welcome. Hannah Center Theater at The O’Neal School, Southern Pines. Info: www.sandhillsphotoclub.org.

January 15, 22, 29, February 5

January 16

PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. Bring infants and toddlers (ages birth through 5 years) for stories, songs, and fun, and then stay for playtime! Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: www.sppl.net or (910) 692-8235. GUEST LECTURE. 6 p.m. The English Speaking Union welcomes Dr. Henry Williams III. Topic: “Turkey and the USA.” Cocktails with dinner to follow. Cost: $40.50. The Country Club of North Carolina, 1600 Morganton Road, Pinehurst. Info: Hope Price, (910) 692-7727; reservations: (910) 692-6565.

January 10

MOVIE AT THE LIBRARY. 2:30 – 4:30 p.m. Oldies & Goodies film series presents a 1944 musical starring Judy Garland and Margaret O’ Brien. A heart-warming story of family and the World’s Fair. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: www.sppl.net or (910) 692-8235. GIVEN LIBRARY’S 50TH ANNIVERSARY. 3:30 p.m. Audrey Moriarty will talk about library facts and figures, ideas for celebrating the library’s 50th anniversary, and the great expectations for the future. An open forum to follow, with a question and answer period, and thoughts from the group. This event is free and open to the public. Given Memorial Library, 150 Cherokee Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-6022.

January 12

FREE COOKING DEMO. 12 & 2 p.m. “Peanuts.” From the legume/bean family and full of vitamins and minerals. Learn some of the sweet and savory ways you can enjoy these little beans. Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775. FREE WINE TASTING. 12 – 4 p.m. Ossiam monastrell. A perfect balance of earth and sweet spice. Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775.

January 13

STORYTELLING AT THE LIBRARY. 3 p.m. Explorations: A Forum for Adults presents Hobo Bill & Kristin, Railroad Music and Folklore. Families are welcome to warm up with hot cider, songs and storytelling. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: www.sppl.net or (910) 692-8235. ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. Live music from Molasses Creek. High-energy performances and phenomenal songwriting bring the love of their coastal home to the stage. Seating is by general admission. Tickets available at the door and online. The Poplar Knight Spot, 114 Knight St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-7502 or www. theroosterswife.org.

• ••• •

Key: Art Music/Concerts Fun History Sports

ART CLASSES. 10 a.m. – 12 p.m. Drawing people and portraits with Pat McMahon. Cost: $80. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979 or www.artistleague.org.

ART CLASS. 10 a.m. – 4 p.m. Advanced Alcohol Inks: Techniques and Secrets with Sandy Scott. Cost: $50. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979 or www.artistleague.org. PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. Bring infants and toddlers (ages birth through 5 years) for stories, songs, and fun, and then stay for playtime! Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: www.sppl.net or (910) 692-8235.

January 17

Philly for Lunch AT SLY FOX. 11:30 a.m. – 4:30 p.m. Philly Cheese Steak Sandwich during lunch accompanied with triple cooked fries. The Sly Fox Pub, 795 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1621.

January 17 & 24

ART CLASS. 1 – 4 p.m. Introduction to watercolor with Nancy Yanchus. This class will offer students an overview of the techniques needed to paint in watercolors. Cost: $60. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979 or www.artistleague.org.

January 19

PRUNING WORKSHOP. 10 a.m. – 12 p.m. A hands-on demonstration on how correct pruning should be done. Moore County Agricultural agent Taylor Williams will conduct the workshop for the Sandhills Horticultural Society. Sandhills Community College Horticultural Gardens, 3395 Airport Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 695-3882 or www.sandhillshorticulturalgardens.com. ART CLASS. 10 a.m. – 3 p.m. Painting with paper pulp with Debby Kline. Cost: $40. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979 or www. artistleague.org. FREE COOKING DEMO. 12 & 2 p.m. “Sweet potatoes.” There are hundreds of varieties of sweet potatoes ranging from white and mild to deep red and super sweet. Learn a recipe or two. Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775. FREE WINE TASTING. 12 – 4 p.m. Licia albarino. This refreshing white wine boasts intense flavors of grapefruit, quince, green apple, herbs, some minerality and sweet lemon. Aromatic and charming. From Rias Baixas, Spain. Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775.

• • •

Dance/Theater

• • Film

Literature/Speakers

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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OPERA AT SUNRISE THEATER. 12:55 p.m. Donizetti’s Maria Stuarda. Mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato, one of the world’s most exciting singers, takes on the virtuosic bel canto role of the doomed Mary, Queen of Scots. Tickets: $25. Sunrise Theater, 250 NW Broad St.,
Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8501. Barbershop Quartet Concert. 7 p.m. Come hear the 130-man chorus at the North Carolina Harmony Brigade’s 21st annual show. Owen’s Auditorium, Sandhills Community College. Info: (910) 295-6563.

January 20

ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. Live music from Jack Williams, Jeff Mosier . Dazzling picking, expressive voice, unique and interesting songs from two very fine circuit riders. Seating is by general admission. Tickets available at the door and online. The Poplar Knight Spot, 114 Knight St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-7502 or www.theroosterswife.org.

January 21

ART CLASS. 10 a.m. – 3 p.m. Follow the leader, Joan Williams, as she takes you through a step-by-step beginner oil painting class. Cost: $70, includes supplies. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979 or www.artistleague.org.

January 22

• APPAREL CoolSweats Gentlemen’s Corner The Faded Rose The Village Fox Boutique

BOUTIQUES

Trivia Night AT SLY FOX. 6:30 p.m. Thirty questions while you dine. Do you have what it takes to win this battle of wits? The Sly Fox Pub, 795 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1621.

January 23

ART CLASS. 1 – 4 p.m. Notan: The Japanese Design Secret (all media, intermediate) with Betty DiBartolomeo. Learn this award winning design secret and how to apply it. Bring photos or failed paintings and learn how to paint an award winner by building the under layer of good design. Cost: $60. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979 or www.artistleague.org. PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. Bring infants and toddlers (ages birth through 5 years) for stories, songs, and fun, and then stay for playtime! Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: www.sppl.net or (910) 692-8235. RUTH PAULEY LECTURE SERIES. 7:30 p.m. Mark Vomund will give his presentation, “From Soldier to Survivor: One Man’s Life Changing Event.” He will discuss his challenges after being wounded by an improvised explosive device (IED) in Kandahar, Afghanistan. Free and open to the public. Owens Auditorium, Sandhills Community College, 3395 Airport Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 245-3132.

Eye Max Optical Boutique Green Gate Gourmet Green Gate Olive Oils The Potpourri Old Sport & Gallery Tesoro Home Decor & Gifts

SALONS & SPAS

Elaine’s Hairdressers Glam Salon & Boutique

RESTAURANTS & INNS Lady Bedford’s Tea Parlour & Gift Shoppe Tenya Japanese Cuisine and Sushi

SERVICES Village of Pinehurst Rentals & Golf

January 24

NORTH CAROLINA FARMER SERIES. 6 p.m. Hilltop Beef. Featuring a unique demonstration, discussion and fourcourse dinner. Cost: $29+. Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775. NORTH CAROLINA SYMPHONY. 8 p.m. Beethoven’s Fourth Symphony. Tickets: $23-$50. Lee Auditorium, Pinecrest High School, Southern Pines. Info: (877) 627-6724 or www.ncsymphony.org.

January 26

FREE COOKING DEMO. 12 & 2 p.m. “Pecans.” They have been found to lower cholesterol, may protect the mind, have weight control qualities, and are heart healthy. All good reasons to put them in your next dish. Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775. FREE WINE TASTING. 12 – 4 p.m. Lelia. A gorgeous Grenache with earthy, smoky raspberry flavors, sweet clove, spicy cinnamon and pepper. Perfect companion for any evening. From Carinena in Aragon, Spain. Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775.

January 27

• ••• • •

ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. Live

Key: Art Music/Concerts Film Literature/Speakers Sports

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Dance/Theater Fun History

January 2013 P��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


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music from the Sweetback Sisters. A honky-tonk band from Brooklyn. They sing early-country classics and new, soon-to-be country hits in sweet, girl-on-girl harmony. Seating is by general admission. Tickets available at the door and online. The Poplar Knight Spot, 114 Knight St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-7502 or www.theroosterswife.org.

January 28

ART CLASS. 10 a.m. – 4 p.m. Drawing animals (beginner to intermediate), with Yvonne Sovereign. Learn the basics of drawing an animal, anatomy, structure, gesture and movement. Cost: $50. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979 or www. artistleague.org.

January 29

“WOMEN HELPING WOMEN” LUNCHEON. 11:30 a.m. Fundraiser hosted by Friend to Friend. Admission by invitation only. Call to inquire. Country Club of North Carolina, 1600 Morganton Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 947-3333 or www.moorefriends.org.

January 30

PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. Infants and toddlers (ages birth through 5 years). Stories, songs, and fun, and then stay for playtime! Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: www.sppl.net or (910) 692-8235.

WEEKLY HAPPENINGS Mondays

LIVE MUSIC AT CIRCLE M CITY. 7 p.m. Gather at the wild west town’s free music event. Circle M City, 74 Cowboy Lane, Sanford. Info: (919) 499-8493.

Wednesdays

CURRY HOUSE NIGHT AT SLY FOX. Five Wednesdays in January give you five opportunities to enjoy fabulous curries. Attending multiple nights will award you prizes at the sister restaurants. The Sly Fox Pub, 795 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1621.

Fridays

FREE COOKING DEMO. 5 – 6 p.m. A fun way to play with your food using quick, easy, in-season ingredients. Samples included. The Flavor Exchange, 115 E New Hampshire Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1345.

Art Galleries ABOUT ART GALLERY inside The Market Place Midland Bistro Building, 2160 Midland Road, Pinehurst. The gallery features local artists. Open Monday-Friday 11 a.m. — 2 p.m. (910) 215-596. ART NUTZ AND RAVEN POTTERY, 125 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Come see the potter at work. Features art, pottery from local potters, handmade jewelry, glass and more. Monday-Saturday 10 a.m. — 5 p.m. (910) 695-1555, www. ravenpottery.com. Artist GAlleRy OF SOUTHERN PINES, 167 E. New Hampshire Ave., Southern Pines. Features art and fine crafts from more than 60 North Carolina artists. 10 a.m. — 5 p.m., Monday-Saturday. (910) 692-6077. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St. in historic Aberdeen. Exhibit hours are noon — 3 p.m., Monday-Saturday. (910) 944-3979. Broadhurst Gallery, 2212 Midland Road, Pinehurst. Showcases works by nationally recognized artists such as Louis St. Lewis, Lula Smith, Shawn Morin, Rachel Clearfield, Judy Cox and Jason Craighead. Meet-the-artist opportunities available. Tuesday-Friday, 11 a.m. — 5 p.m., Saturday, 1—4 p.m. (910) 295-4817, www.broadhurstgallery.com. The Campbell House Galleries, 482 E. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. Monday-Friday 9 a.m. - 5 p.m. and every third weekend of the month from 2-4 p.m. (910) 692-4356, www.mooreart.org. The Downtown Gallery inside Cup of Flow, 115 NE Broad St., Southern Pines. Ever-changing array of local and regional art, pottery and other handmade items. (910) 693-1999.

••• • •

Key: Art Music/Concerts Film Literature/Speakers Sports

• • •

Dance/Theater Fun History

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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online @ www.pinestrawmag.com 78

January 2013 � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


ca l e n da r The Gallery at Seven Lakes at the St. Mary Magdalene building, 1145 Seven Lakes Drive. Just nine miles from the Pinehurst Traffic Circle up 211, this gallery is dedicated to local artists. Wednesday-Thursday 1 ­— 4 p.m. Hastings Gallery in the Katharine L. Boyd Library at Sandhills Community College, Pinehurst. Gallery hours are Monday-Thursday 7:45 a.m. - 9 p.m., Friday 7:45 a.m. - 5 p.m. and Saturday 8:30 a.m. - 2 p.m. HOLLYHOCKS ART GALLERY, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Features artwork by local award winning artists. Monday-Saturday 10:30 am to 9:30 pm. Fine oil paintings, commissions and instruction. Meet the Artists on Saturdays, 12 - 3 p.m. (910) 255-0665, www.hollyhocksartgallery.com. Lady Bedford’s Tea Parlour, 25 Chinquapin Rd., Pinehurst. Features local artist Nancy Campbell’s original oil and watercolor paintings. Tuesday - Saturday 8 a.m. - 5 p.m. (910) 2550100, www.ladybedfords.com. The Old Silk Route, 113 West Main St., Aberdeen. Specializes in Asian original art, including silk paintings, tapestries, Buddhist Thangkas and Indian paper miniatures. Monday, Thursday-Saturday 11 a.m. - 4 p.m. (910) 295-2055. Seagrove Candle Company, 116 N.W. Broad St., Southern Pines. Showcases art of the Sandhills and Seagrove area. Monday, Wednesday-Saturday 10 a.m. - 5 p.m., (910) 695-0029. SKY Art Gallery, 602 Magnolia Drive, Aberdeen. TuesdaySaturday 10 a.m. - 5 p.m. (910) 944-9440, www.skyartgallery.com. Studio 590 by the pond in Dowd Cabin, 590 Dowd Circle, Pinehurst. This historic log cabin is the working studio and gallery of artists Betty DiBartolomeo and Harry Neely. Fine oil paintings, commissions and instruction. (910) 639-9404. White Hill Gallery, 407 U.S. 15-501, Carthage, offers a variety of pottery. (910) 947-6100.

Nature Centers Sandhills Horticultural Gardens (32 acres of gardens). The Sandhills Horticultural Gardens are handicapped-

We are an authorized PFAFF® dealer. Machines are available at all price and skill levels from beginner to expert. Come by and see our vast selection of fabric, yarns, patterns and notions!

— Find X Designs —

Fabric & Yarn 719 Carthage Street • Sanford, NC 27330 919-774-4700 • Find us on Facebook! Hours: Monday - Saturday 10:00 - 6:00 Locally owned and operated.

accessible. Daylight hours year-round. (910) 695-3882. Weymouth Woods Sandhills Nature Preserve (898 acres). 1024 Fort Bragg Road, Southern Pines. (910) 692-2167. VILLAGE ABORETUM. 35 acres of land adjoining the Village Hall on Magnolia Road, Pinehurst. (910) 295-1900.

PineNeedler Answers From page 95

Historical Sites Bethesda Church and Cemetery. Guided tours for groups by appointment. 1020 Bethesda Road, Aberdeen. (910) 944-1319. Bryant House and McLendon Cabin. Tours by appointment. (910) 692-2051 or (910) 673-0908. Carthage Historical Museum. Sundays, 2-5 p.m. or by appointment. Located at Rockingham and Saunders streets, Carthage. (910) 947-2331. House in the Horseshoe. Open year-round. Hours vary. 288 Alston House Road (10 miles north of Carthage), Sanford. (910) 947-2051. Malcolm Blue Farm and Museum. 1-4 p.m. Wednesday-Saturday. Group tours can be arranged by appointment. (910) 944-7558 or (910) 603-2739. North Carolina Literary Hall of Fame. 10 a.m. - 2 p.m., Monday-Friday, at the Weymouth Center for Arts and Humanities, 555 E. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. (910) 692-6261. Shaw House Property. Open 1-4 p.m. Tuesday-Friday. (910) 692-2051. Tufts Archives. 9:30 a.m. - 5 p.m., Monday-Friday, and 9:30 a.m. - 12:30 p.m. Saturday. (910) 295-3642. Union Station. Open 8 a.m. - 5 p.m. Located in downtown Aberdeen. (910) 944-5902. Sandhills Woman’s Exchange Log Cabin Open 10 a.m. - 3 p.m. (910) 295-4677 PS To add an event, email us at pinestraw@thepilot.com by the first of the month prior to the event.

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MERIDITH MARTENS, artist Fine Art Animal Portraits

www.meridithmartens.com 910.315.1214

80 January 2013 P���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


Sandhills Photography Club Abstract Photography Competition Class A

First Place

Gisela Danielson

The Sandhills Photography Club welcomes all who have an interest in improving their photography skills and gaining the technical knowledge that goes along with it. The club meets at 7 p.m. on the second Monday of each month at Christ Fellowship Church on Midland Road at Pee Dee. Regardless of skill or background, any prospective member is invited to attend. Information: sandhillsphotoclub.org

Honorable Mention Jill Margeson

Honorable Mention

Chris Christiansen

Honorable Mention Dave Powers

3rd Place 2nd Place

Hunter Rudd

Donna Ford

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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82 January 2013 P���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


Abstract Photography Competition Class B

3rd Place

Honorable Mention

Tommy McDonell

John German

Honorable Mention

Honorable Mention

Chuck Kersey

Debra Rhodes-Smith

2nd Place Pat Anderson

Honorable Mention Jeanne Walker

First Place Gene Lentz

Honorable Mention Tommy McDonell

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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SandhillSeen

Moore County Hounds Thanksgiving Opening Meet Thursday, November 22, 2012 Photographs by Jeanne Paine

Jane Kury, Tayloe Compton, Dick Webb, Cameron Sadler, Dominick Pagnotta

Dr. Fred & Janie McCashin

David Raley

Lefreda Williams, Betsy Rainoff The Rev. John Tampa

Cindy Pagnotta

Mike Russell, Effie Ellis, Dick Webb, Cameron Sadler

Sharon Faker, Linda Hester, Charlie & Terri Cook, Andy Pellegrino, Beth Dowd

Campbell Jourdian, Ashley Van Camp

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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Lori’s jewelry is so fashion-forward. i love it!

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86 January 2013

Pergolas • Statuary • Planters Fountains • Garden Art • Aluminum Fencing

Windridge

Gardens

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� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


SandhillSeen

Pine Cone Open at the Southern Pines Elks Club, Saturday, November 10, 2012 Baxter Clement, James Melton, LuAnn DeBolt, George Little

Tony Paz, Nathan Summers, Susie Buchanan, Jake Kenworthy Bill & Linda Parke, Janet McDowell, Scott Baker

Cos Barnes, Jane McPhaul

Mike Haney, Judy Corso, Carol Haney, Denise Baker, Pat & Jack Murphy, Pat Corso

Stu & Nancy Heilman, Kate & Gabrielle Byrne

Jim Simeon, Paul Gibson, Reagan Parsons, David McNeill

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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Explore the creative art and professional craft of pottery at the training grounds of hundreds of Seagrove potters. Professional Crafts: Clay A.A.S. Degree or Diploma Day or evening classes

Learn from potters with over 100 years of combined professional experience.

Photograph by Ben Albright

Beginning to advanced certificate options

Learn form and design with a focus on individual expression.

MCC Pottery students created and assembled this 11-foot totem pole.

Montgomery Community College www.montgomery.edu (910) 576-6222, ext. 240 or 238


SandhillSeen

Holly & Ivy Dinner at the Holly Inn benefiting Given Memorial Library & Tufts Archives Tuesday, December 4, 2012. Photographs by Al & Annette Daniels

Suzanne Faker, Kelly McCrann, Joan Latta

Lynne & Jimmy Thompson

Michele Gowan, Mae West Durant, Miriam Lawson, Don Gowan

Kathy McPherson, Lulu Eichorn, Judy Leggett, Penny Junk

Susanne Schultz, Uwe Wescheropp, Beth & Col. Louis Mason

Anna Fitzpatrick, Jay Biggs

Margee Anawalt, Susan Currie

Judy Wood, Maureen & Rob Papp Ron & Patsy Rhody, Dashon Evans

Mary Jo Morris with MoJo Anne & Dr. Roy Keys, Celeste Bondy, Salvatore Doria

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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Maintenance Free Living!

Our most popular floor plan just got better! The New Canterbury Model features 3 Bedrooms, 3 Baths, a Carolina Room & Den.

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SandhillSeen

Puttin’ on the Ritz, Top Hat & Tails Benefit Gala for the Animal Advocates of Moore County Monday, December 3, 2012 Photographs by Al & Annette Daniels

Jordan Thompson with adoptable dog Raspy

Kitty O’Brien, Geoff Bishel Ann Parker, Cyndi McKenzie, Beverly Bizzell

Gail Clay, Pat Thomas

Barb Shepherd with Mario

Julie Page Morgan with Miss Coco Channel, Amanda Watkins

Rick Gagliardo, Judi Man-Gagliardo

Janise Lingle, Cindy Hughes

Kelly Stevens, Amy Bresky, Maureen Tkacz

Judy Anne Sherer, Janet Dustin, Nancy & John Bouldry with Abby Joe & Nancy Kling with Molly Jeanne Helmstetter, Sandra Morris, Linda Stevens, Carol Burgess Nancy Hudson, Bryon Morris

Mary Jo Morris with MoJo

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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T h o u g h ts f r o m T h e Ma n S h e d

The Month that Begs for Spring January. By most accounts it’s the coldest month

of the year. I wouldn’t argue the point, for that has always seemed to me to be the case. Where I’m from, we welcomed winter and looked forward to the first snow. Did you ever notice how quiet it gets during a heavy snowfall? Especially at night. We grew up in a neighborhood outside of Boston, Massachusetts, replete with all the associative noises of suburban living. But when snow fell, all those noises were mysteriously muffled, blanketed into silence. I loved to go outside and just listen. You could barely make out the sound of flakes alighting in the trees and evergreen shrubs. You could hear little else. A lone car might pass in the road in front of our house, and you saw its headlights illuminate the falling snow in its path, but you couldn’t hear the car’s engine. Only the tires quietly crunching down the road. And as the snow accumulated, the quieter it became.

By January, though, the novelty and the beauty of winter and that first snow had worn off. It was just plain cold. Christmas vacation was over, and you were back at school. The carrot, buttons and your dad’s pipe fell out in a temporary thaw and sat on the ground in front of your melted snowman . . . which has refrozen and lists slovenly like a faceless deformed zombie. It’s just plain cold. The school bully just hit you in the back of the head with a hardpacked ice ball. You’re probably bleeding, and it’s melting down the back of your neck. And it’s colder still. You can’t throw one back at him because your mom has you wearing those ridiculous wool mittens clipped to your parka. And they’ll get soaking wet if you even think of packing a snowball. Oh . . . and don’t forget the even more ridiculous black galoshes you’re wearing over your Bass Weejuns. You know the ones. The uninsulated oversized black rubber moon boots you turned purple trying to stuff your shoes into, and then clipped closed. Your feet were always so cold in those things you thought your toes were going to crack and fall off your feet. Yeah . . . January . . . it’s cold, and snow or no, you’ve had it with winter. All of this got me thinking about what was the coldest I’ve ever been. Well, that was when Mary died. And when did Mary die, you ask? January — of course! She was to be buried in the family plot at a cemetery in Boyertown, Pennsylvania. So my wife, Brooke, and I met her sister and husband in

Raleigh for the short flight up to Philadelphia, where we would rent a car and meet the rest of the family in Boyertown. It must have been a pleasant January day here, or none of us bothered to check the weather for Boyertown, because upon our arrival and exit from the airport, we couldn’t help but notice that the temperature was a good 40 degrees south of what we had left back in North Carolina, and we, in our suit clothes, were woefully under-dressed. After about an hour’s drive (the rental car was beautifully heated), we met the rest of the family at their hotel in Boyertown. Brooke, looking around and not seeing a hearse, asked Sully, Mary’s son, and her (Brooke’s) stepfather, “Where’s Mary?” “She’s in the trunk.” “She’s in the trunk of your car? That’s the meanest thing I’ve ever heard,” said Brooke, whose brain must have been solidifying toward deep freeze paralysis on account of the wind picking up and the temperature continuing to drop. “We cremated her, silly, and she’s in an urn in the trunk of our car,” he said. “Well, that’s more like it, then,” said Brooke. And after a good and warming giggle, we stuffed ourselves back into our various rental cars and proceeded directly to the cemetery for Mary’s service and burial. The cemetery sat on top of a mostly unprotected hill. At least in winter, for all the leaves had long since fallen from the many deciduous trees, and when we alit from our cars, it was into a stiff arctic wind, an inch or two of snow on the ground, and the temperature hovering between the high teens and early twenties. It was the kind of cold that pierced you like a knife. And there we stood on top of this hill, in our utterly inappropriate clothing, while the minister, who had been hired for the day by cousins who lived in the area and helped with all funerals for family members who had moved away from Boyertown during their lives, said many kind words about a woman he had never met in his life. And as Mary was lowered into the ground next to Harry, we had tears in our eyes. Both tears shed for our dearly departed . . . and tears ripped from our eyes by the godforsaken wind. And I remember looking down at my loafers as I had as a child in my ridiculous rubber galoshes, and thinking . . . my toes are going to crack and fall off my feet. And when it was over, we stood over Mary in somber reflection for as long as we could stand the cold, and it was then that the minister leaned into Brooke’s brother and asked him, “So just what denomination was your grandmother, anyway?” And Justin looked back at him with a quizzical look on his face as if surely Mary’s minister should have known the answer to this question and said, “Gin.” PS Geoff Cutler is owner of Cutler Tree LLC in Southern Pines. He is a regular contributor to PineStraw. He can be reached at geoffcutler@embarqmail.com.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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PineServices

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January 2013P�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


January PineNeedler

7

By Mart Dickerson

Soup’s On!

3

5 2

8 7

5 4 9 2 7 8 1 3 5 2 4 3 7 9 6 9 1 5 Sudoku:

Fill in the grid so every row, every column and every 3x3 box contain the numbers 1-9. Puzzle answers on page 79.

Mart Dickerson lives in Southern Pines and would welcome any suggestions from her fellow puzzle masters. She can be reached at martaroonie@gmail.com ACROSS 1 Mongolian desert 5 Salad with bacon, egg, chicken, tomato 9 Spots, on TV or radio 12 __ -garde 14 Organization concerned with civil liberties (abbr.) 15 Chimney 16 Dog retrieve command 17 School support groups (abbr.) 18 Lease 19 Day of the week (abbr.) 20 Stretch to make do, with “out” 22 MMMMM GOOD! 24 Bundle or ball of yarn 26 Lock openers 27 MMMMM GOOD! 30 MMMMM GOOD! 34 Thick piece of concrete 37 Decorate the tree 39 Soak 40 Caesar’s three 41 Plastic wrap 43 Deli sandwich order, for short 44 Musical “slow” 47 Reminder, on paper 48 Dues 49 Private instructors 51 Michelangelo’s famous statue 53 Tropical bird 55 John __ (U.S. president) 58 Sacred poems or songs 60 Pressure unit (abbr.)

61 Boxer Muhammad 63 Angry mob activity 64 Wait, as your time 66 MMMMM GOOD! 68 Data, for short 69 Aroma 70 Campers’ dwellings 71 MMMMM GOOD! 72 Onion-like vegetable 73 Actress and sex symbol Mae DOWN 1 Fish stabbing tool 2 Pull __ (sweaters) 3 Cloth dying with wax 4 Business title ending, for short 5 Superman’s costume part 6 Halloween mo. 7 White’s opposite

8 9 10 11 13 15 21 23 25 28 29 31 32 33 34 35 36 38

Large fruit basket size Specialty at Pinehurst Brewery Coastal sand pile Jell His or her Central California city Ship’s speed units Ogled Recede, like the ocean Trolley car Took on, as an employee English subway ____ of Wright Rents out River sediment In __ of (instead of) Southern negative Papa’s mate

42 45 46 48 50 52 54 56 57 58 59 60 62 63 65 67

Kinds of stars MMMM GOOD! Spoken Those who make the food laws (abbr.) Emblem, image that stands for something Moron Comment to the audience The only one syllable state Openings found in casinos Main tree in Moore County Couch Fringe benefit at work Mental home or hospital (abbr.) Initials on a tombstone Female deer Unused

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2013

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southwords

The Frugal Foodie’s New Year Resolutions For 2013, cheap and good are in

By Deborah Salomon

The best-intentioned

resolutions usually fizzle by February. These are keepable:

Cast a rueful eye on expiration dates, including meat and dairy. Usually the product is only a day or two past with no compromise in quality or safety. Look for packages reduced on expiration day. Get over being a coffee snob. Remember the oenophiles’ embarrassment when they couldn’t distinguish between fine and ordinary wines in a blind tasting? Reacquaint yourself with good, plain coffee made by the pot, not by the super-expensive cup. Boycott frozen prepared foods. Scrambled eggs, frozen soup for two at $7 — really. Master processor pizza dough. Duh. Every star from Flay to Batali to Deen has a super-simple recipe (even for yeast-o-phobes) online. Once mastered, a homemade family-sized pizza, heavy with toppings, costs about $4. Keep a pitcher of tap water in the fridge with a color-coded glass for each family member on the counter. Save the world. Ban drinking bottled water at home.

Flavor your own yogurt. Not necessarily cheaper but so much better: chocolate or maple syrup, strawberry jam, crushed pineapple, apple butter, OJ concentrate, sliced almonds. Swirl a can of cherry pie filling into a big tub of plain or vanilla. Shop for kitchen/table stuff at Goodwill — everything from champagne flutes to CrockPots, pickle forks to Bundt pans. Eventually, you’ll find silver-plated serving pieces and bone china. Or a cute pet feeding dish. Don’t assume every recipe (especially online) works. When in doubt, follow your instincts. Buy all spices/dried herbs in bulk at a natural foods store. Pay pennies instead of dollars for a fresher product. Gourmet pet food in itsy-bitsy cans (up to $6 per pound) — a complete rip-off when boneless, skinless chicken breasts cost $1.99 a pound somewhere, every week. Boil a pot full, chop in processor, moisten with stock. Even frozen tilapia on sale is cheaper than Fancy Feast. P.S. Would somebody please give perky, petite cooking show host Giada de Laurentiis a Valium? Every program feels like a cheerleader audition. She wears me out. PS Deborah Salomon is a staff writer for PineStraw and The Pilot. She may be reached at debsalomon@nc.rr.com. Illustration by Pamela Powers January

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January 2013P�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


January 2013 PineStraw  

The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

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