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January 2012 Volume 7, No. 1



10 13 15

Sweet Tea Chronicles Jim Dodson

PinePitch Our Favorite Cookbooks Postcard from Nicaragua

Cassie Butler

17 PineBuzz Jack Dodson

19 21

Cos and Effect Cos Barnes The Omnivorous Reader

25 29

Bookshelf Hitting Home


Serial Eater

Stephen E. Smith

Dale Nixon

David C. Bailey

33 Vine Wisdom Robyn James


Spirits Frank Daniels III


Out of the Blue

Deborah Salomon

39 Birdwatch Susan Campbell


The Sporting Life

Golftown Journal Calendar

Lee Pace

Tom Bryant

45 76 84 93

SandhillSeen Thoughts From The Manshed Geoff Cutler 95 PineNeedler Mart Dickerson 96 SouthWords Lynn Moore


49 Benjamin Gorham Hamp

Tells All

Poetry by Stephen E. Smith

50 Running for Our Lives

By Ashley Wahl

A father and his daughter share an uncommon bond in the silence of the run

52 My Need to Ride

By Melissa Hall

How a bum knee led to a brilliant experience on a bicycle high in the Alps

54 Song of the Trail

By Ashley Wahl

A young man goes in search of adventure, and finds his life

56 Well-Balanced Lives

Cover Photograph By Cassie Butler 2

By John & Julie Tampa

Finding inner peace and fitness from an ancient discipline

58 Holly & Ivy Dinner Portraits from PineStraw’s second Holiday dinner

61 The Guest

By Tim Johnston

Fiction from Short Story America

64 Story of a House

By Deborah Salomon

Broadhearth is a grand old brick lady, recalling the way we were

73 January Almanac

By Noah Salt

Bright winter stars, Twelfth Night, and the glory of Nandina

January 2012 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

Handcrafted Since 1926 Skilled craftsmen hand make DUX Beds today just as carefully as our artisans did in 1926. They use the finest materials: hardy pine from our Northern forests, thousands of strong Swedish steel springs, high thread count cotton and latex harvested from the rubber tree. Our craftsmen fashion The DUX Bed by hand during weeks of intense effort. They are committed to the craft of quality, and that’s why a DUX Bed can last for generations.

DUXIANA D UXIANA at at The The Mews M ws Downtown Me Downtown SSouthern outhern P Pines ines 910.725.1577 910.725.1577

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

Kathryn Galloway, Associate Art Director Ashley Wahl, Editorial Assistant EDITORIAL

Deborah Salomon, Staff Writer Stephen E. Smith, Staff Writer Sara King, Proofreader Mary Novitsky, Proofreader PHOTOGRAPHERS

Tim Sayer, Cassie Butler, John Gessner, Hannah Sharpe CONTRIBUTORS

David C. Bailey, Cos Barnes, Tom Bryant, Cassie Butler, Susan Campbell, Maureen Clark, Geoff Cutler, Frank Daniels III, Mart Dickerson, Jack Dodson, Melissa Hall, Robyn James, Tim Johnson, Jan Leitschuh, Meridith Martens, Lynn Moore, Dale Nixon, Lee Pace, Jeanne Paine,Noah Salt, John and Julie Tampa

PS David Woronoff, Publisher ADVERTISING SALES

Darlene Stark, Advertising Manager 910.693.2488 • dstark@pinestrawmag.com Michelle Palladino, Sales Representative 910.691.9657 • mpalladino@pinestrwmag.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

Kristen Clark, Kathryn Galloway, B.J. Hill Mechelle Wood, Scott Yancey CIRCULATION & SUBSCRIPTIONS


PineStraw Magazine

910.693.2467 173 W. Pennsylvania Avenue Southern Pines, NC 28387 pinestraw@thepilot.com • www.pinestrawmag.com ©Copyright 2012. Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission is prohibited. PineStraw magazine is published by The Pilot LLC


January 2012 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills




One story brick beauty with panoramic water views on Lake Pinehurst features an open floorplan, hardwood floors, covered deck and new dock! 3 BR / 3 BA $629,000

Exquisite home in Clarendon Gardens. Beautifully renovated with great features and updates. Located on over two landscaped acres with water views. 3 BR / 2 Full & 2 Half Baths $479,000

Elegant custom built Villa in CCNC enjoys a gorgeous setting overlooking water on an oversized lot. Lovely views from large patio and interior areas. 3 BR / 2.5 BA $449,000







Gorgeous Arts and Crafts style custom home on two acres in a wonderful equestrian neighborhood! Loads of open and bright living space including a separate suite. 4 BR / 3.5 BA $449,000

Gorgeous all brick custom home located on the 15th fairway of National featuring hardwood floors, covered porches, 9 foot ceilings and beautifully landscaped yard. 3 BR / 2.5 BA $408,000

Beautiful custom home on the 6th hole of the Azalea Course in Pinewild. Open spaces and lots of windows to capture outstanding views from almost every room. 3 BR / 2.5 BA $399,000







Immaculate brick home on 13th fairway of Pinehurst Course #3 offering many upgraded features including lots of hardwoods, custom blinds, beautiful moldings and more! 4 BR / 4.5 BA $392,000

Gorgeous brick home with 154’ of golf frontage. Super floor plan with all glass overlooking long golf views. Over $25,000 in upgrades added to this almost new home! 5 BR / 4.5 BA $379,000

Beauty, style and elegance are carefully brought together in this golf front home featuring soaring ceilings, gas fireplace, built-in cabinetry and more! 3 BR / 2 BA $379,000







Beautiful Lake Pinehurst water front home in prestigious Westlake Pointe! Elegant floor plan with vaulted ceilings, walls of windows and great landscaping! 3 BR / 3 BA $379,000

Gorgeous all brick home sits high on hill with views of Lake Auman and offers wonderful privacy in the beautifully landscaped yard and covered porch. 3 BR / 2.5 BA $369,000

Beautifully renovated golf front home overlooks the 9th hole of Pinehurst Course #3. The house and grounds have been meticulously redone and the result is beautiful. 4 BR / 3.5 BA $349,900




View Floor Plans and Virtual Tours of Our Listings and See ALL Moore County Listings and Community Information at



Lost and Found By Jim Dodson

I may be the only

person I know who really digs the month of January. Where most folks see a month of cruel bone-chilling winds and Christmas bills arriving in a blizzard, I see a time of rest and reflection, the gift of a moment to withdraw and take stock and mentally regroup, as my equally hard-working wife likes to say.

In short, like Mole and Badger from Wind in the Willows, it’s my burrowing month. Come January, I’ve almost always just finished work on one book and am pondering the start of work on another — emphasis on pondering. This is, after all, my lovely self-imposed exile-from-the-world month, the time I stay close to the hutch and read books I’ve had stacked up for months (unable to read another writer’s work for fear I’ll confuse his voice with my own), drink gallons of real hot chocolate, take walks, take naps, watch my favorite movies for the umpteenth time, and try my best to to keep the mum’s freezing feet warm in bed. The pleasure’s all mine, as I’m something of a human hot water-bottle, the effect of being a child of winter, I suppose, naturally immune to cold and insulated for warmth. Possibly because I hail from a wintry clan full of January births — including both parents, and I just missed being born into the month by thirtyone hours — I love wool blankets and cashmere sweaters, rag socks, tweed jackets, good boots. I could easily pass the whole month of January dressed only in jeans and flannel shirts. Have done so many times, in fact. When we lived on a forested hill in Maine, moreover, there were entire stretches of January days when I ventured no farther than a hundred paces from our porch — to shovel walks or top up the wood pile or simply walk a fifty-pound bag of sorghum feed to the stone wall at the rear of our property where I fed a local family of white tails on frigid nights. One January, a freak ice storm knocked power out for half the state of Maine, and I lived by candlelight and tended my wood stove for close to a fortnight, falling into the routine of a Victorian woodcutter. I cooked, read, and turned in before eight o’clock most nights. Once the roads in my rural end of the county were cleared of downed trees, which took at least a week, I ventured out to restock the pantry with canned soups and was amused to come home and discover, of all things, a crew from Duke Power working on my ridge’s downed powerlines. They’d been flown in by the governor of Maine to help, and we had something of a Carolina reunion. It was intriguing to visit the 19th century — a real eye-opener as to what we moderns simply take for granted — but I’m in no hurry to go back there anytime soon. In a happier context, I’ve had beautiful bright January days where, burrowed

in, I don’t speak to another soul or even hear the sound of my own voice, always a plus, and solitary nights when the only sound that disturbed the deep winter silence mantling the earth was the welcome crack and pop of that same woodstove. If there’s a better place to sit and read and doze off than by a window leaned on by the benediction of midwinter afternoon sun, I simply don’t know it. Navy bean soup tastes better in January. So does real steel-cut oatmeal, buttered toast and good Scottish tea. Some people starve themselves in January, hoping to kickstart a transformation. My choice is to feed the soul with things that stick to your ribs. During the first full year of my married life, we lived on an island off the Maine coast where all but the postmistress, the geezers who gathered every morning for coffee at the island store, and maybe a dozen lobstering families braved the sharpest edge of winter. Our little house looked out over Mackerel Cove, and I came to treasure my afternoon walks around the island shore with my dog, Amos, a Vermont golden retriever who rejoiced in the coldest days. After a morning of work at my computer, a bracing walk was just the thing to clear my head and get the blood moving. Even better, on a clear January day from the seaward end of Bailey’s Island, one could see all the way to Portland thirty miles across Casco Bay — especially around dusk, when the sea turned cobalt blue and the western horizon was lined with brilliant orange and crimson, and the first lights of the city winked on. My wife at the time was pregnant with our first child. Before Christmas that year I began working on a fictional tale about the colorful inhabitants of a magical island where the peculiar residents serve as custodians of beloved lost items from all corners of the world, keepsakes and treasures from near and far that either washed up on shore or were brought to the island for proper caretaking by a mysterious sea captain named Skelton. I called it “The Island of Beautiful Lost and Found Things” and by the shank end of a curiously snowless January I’d finished about half the tale when I took my very pregnant wife to supper in town. Real Mainers, like Amos the dog, thrive on the coming of snow, but the snowless winter had caused real consternation back on the island. Buckets of sand were sitting at the ready by the village market door, and Bob the island’s defacto snow-plow boss had been idle all winter. Just as we began to eat, though, my wife pointed out the window and smiled. It was suddenly snowing like crazy, piling up to beat the band. The waiter became giddy, the cook even stepped out to look. A lost winter had been found! The hospital was only a block away. The jubliant admitting nurse asked me how it would feel to have a son on the day of the winter’s first big snowstorm. She was certain we’d have a winter baby boy by morning. In fact, by dawn’s early light the storm had blown itself out to sea, and we had a baby daughter we named Maggie Sinclair after her Southern and Scottish grandmothers. It was, without question, the happiest day of my life. As I was driving home to the island to shower, feed the dog, and phone my

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012



anxious parents here in North Carolina with the big news — this was years before I owned a cell phone — I happened to be passing the most beautiful farm on the coast road, its shoulders now two-feet-high with pristine white snow, when a large red cat dashed across the road in front of me. I swerved hard, sliding sideways, but struck the cat, which still managed to leap the far bank and bound off through the knee-deep snow. I pulled over and followed its tracks and found the big old tom curled up at the base of a sprawling hemlock on the hill. He’d already expired from either shock or internal injury. In a bit of shock myself, I picked him up and carried him back down to the road and crossed over to the field and waded up the long unplowed driveway to the beautiful farmhouse, where I knocked on the door and waited, looking at the transformed world around me and thinking how life gives and takes, often with equal measures of joy and sadness. When the door opened and the mistress of the farm saw me with her cat in my arms, she didn’t appear terribly surprised, though her eyes quickly filled with tears. I apologized and explained how I tried my best to miss him and she explained how old “Roger” loved to venture up to the hilltop across the road, even after massive snowstorms. “He’s been hit at least twice in his life. I’m just happy you brought him home. We’ll put him in the barn and bury him in the spring.” I went on home and phoned my folks, had my shower, made coffee and stood on my snowy deck with Amos the dog, looking at the city of Portland in the distance, on my first morning as a father, feeling my own eyes water from cold and emotion. Then, passing the farm, I drove back to the hospital, went in and held my new born, new found, daughter. Baby Maggie’s arrival in a January snowstorm was the talk of the island for several days, sparking genuine excitement in the village. Neighbors brought food and little gifts. The postmistress gave me a knitted cap with tiny whales on it. The geezers at the island store bought me coffee and offered to take Baby Maggie for her first lobster boat ride. Bob the snowplow boss kept plowing our road out just to make sure. Our island baby turns twenty-three on the third to last day of this month. For some reason — probably my sadness over accidentally killing old Roger — I set aside the story of beautiful lost and found things and never got back to finishing it. But this year, as I’m burrowed in, I may finally do that. I’ve lived long enough to know we all must journey through a world filled with beautiful lost and found things — people, animals, objects of the heart — and whatever we think we’ve lost is really only an illusion. Given enough time and patience, and a chance to remove oneself to an island of healing solitude, perhaps it will all come back again. PS


January 2012 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

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PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012


©2011 Anheuser-Busch, Inc., Michelob Ultra® Light Beer, St. Louis, MO • 95 calories, 2.6g carbs, 0.6g protein and 0.0g fat, per 12 oz.

Can You?

re County Twenty-two percent of Moo with en adults cannot read this (ev County their readers on). The Moore s a waitLiteracy Council (MCLC) ha hopes ing list of adult students with proving im of improving their lives by 17, a voluntheir literacy skills. On Jan. from 1 to teer orientation will be held ion (1500 2 p.m. at the Sandhills Coalit es) for Pin W. Indiana Ave., Southern CLC M those interesting in becoming held on tutors. Tutor training will be d 14 from Jan. 24 and 31, and Feb. 7 an 0) 692(91 at 1 to 4 p.m. Contact Pam you are if 5954 or pammclc@nc.rr.com interested in attending.

As Good as Gold

Beginnings were humble. In 1962, the Cape Fear Regional Theatre (then just a small group of local actors) offered a two-show season. Everything was borrowed, lights to props. Fast-forward fifty years. With community support, the Cape Fear Regional Theatre (CFRT) has evolved into one of the state’s finest theatres. From Jan. 19 - Feb. 5, the nationally acclaimed CFRT will celebrate its golden anniversary with a show called Encore: Fifty Fabulous Years. As the name suggests, Encore will be a musical showcase of the best of the drama, song and dance that have shaped CFRT’s reputation over the past half-century. Bravissimo! Stay gold! Cape Fear Regional Theatre, 1209 Hay St., Fayetteville. Info/showtimes/tickets: (910) 323-4233 or www.cfrt.org.

Take Your Vitamins Struttin’ and Stuff

Dancing With the Sandhills Stars has redefined “Power Couple.” On Sunday, Jan. 29, dress to dazzle and watch as local community leaders compete for your vote on the dance floor to raise awareness of mentoring and the impact it has on helping children reach their potential and becoming successful in school and life. Dinner and dancing will benefit Communities In Schools and Moore Buddies. Cocktails at 5 p.m.; dinner seating at 5:45 p.m.; show starts at 7 p.m. The Grand Ballroom, Carolina Hotel, Pinehurst. Info/RSVP: Cynthia at (910) 295-1072 or www.sandhillsstars.com.


The Rooster’s Wife (Janet Kenworthy) says music is essential to her well-being, and that live music happens to be her mega-vitamin. Lucky for us, she’s willing to share the goods. The Rooster’s Wife Concert Series presents an eclectic mix of live music in January. The skinny: Jan. 15 - Harpeth Landing, a group of classically trained musicians who make an impact wherever — and with whatever — they play. A little bit bluegrass, a little bit folk. Jan. 22 - Jamie Laval, a master fiddler who brings a full band along for a Celtic celebration. Jan. 29 - Malcomb Holcombe, like blues in motion. Not quite country. Somewhere beyond folk. Doors open at 6 p.m.; shows begin at 6:45 p.m. The Rooster’s Wife at Poplar Knight Spot, 114 Knight Street, Aberdeen. Tickets/info: (910) 944-7502 or www.theroosterswife.org.

January 2012 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

Squirrelly Behavior

Yours Forever, XOXO

Aberdeen Parks and Recreation Department has partnered with Squirrel Central to present National Squirrel Appreciation Day on Jan. 21 (actual date) from 1 to 3 p.m. at 301 Lake Park Crossing, Aberdeen. Event features crafts for adults and children, tips and tricks for deterring nuisance wildlife and information on what to do if you find injured or abandoned wildlife. Got ophidiophobia? Mortisha the Madagascar boa and Pugsley the yellow anaconda will both make guest appearances. But don’t worry. They usually don’t bite. Info: (910) 944-7275.

Manhattan-based performer and producer Morgan Sills was born and raised right here in Moore County. And he’ll return to the Sandhills as Judson Theatre Company’s executive producer Jan. 19 - 22 with Judson Theatre’s production of Love Letters, to be performed at Owens Auditorium, Sandhills Community College, 3395 Airport Rd., Pinehurst. Show recommended for ages 16 and up. Info/showtimes/tickets: www. judsontheatre.com.


On Jan. 6, an opening reception will be held for Boots and Britches, an equine-inspired art exhibit featuring sculpture, painting and jewelry by Dedi McHamm and Michele Garrett Laster, from 6 to 8 p.m. Exhibit will remain on display through Jan. 27 (weekdays, 9 a.m. - 5 p.m). Campbell House Galleries, 482 E. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-2787.

A Couple of Classics

The Oldies & Goodies Film Series at the Southern Pines Public Library presents The Lady Vanishes (1938) on Jan. 12, a British suspense thriller directed by Alfred Hitchcock that was adapted from Ethel Lina White’s 1936 novel The Wheel Spins. Film stars Margaret Lockwood and Michael Redgrave. Free event begins at 2:30 p.m. and includes complimentary cup of tea. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net. On Tuesday, Jan. 31, Classic Movie Night at the Fair Barn stars Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck in Roman Holiday (1953), a romantic comedy directed and produced by William Wyler. Free event begins at 6 p.m.; refreshments available. The Fair Barn, 200 Beulah Hill Rd. South, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-0166.

Exchange of Things

Located in a historic log cabin, the Sandhills Woman’s Exchange (15 Azalea Rd., Pinehurst) is a seasonally open local cooperative shop that offers one-of-a-kind handcrafted items and delicious homemade food. On Tuesday, Jan. 31, the Exchange will reopen for another season. Profits from the restaurant and sales room help with efforts to preserve the 1826 cabin, which was moved to Pinehurst in 1922. Sales room open Tuesday through Saturday, 10 a.m. to 3 p.m.; lunch room open 11:30 a.m. to 2 p.m. Sandhills Woman’s Exchange Cabin, 15 Azalea Rd., Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-4677.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012



January 2012 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


How do you want to retire?

By His Hands A Collection of Recipes by Bensalem Presbyterian Church


s one of the oldest churches in Moore County, Bensalem Presbyterian in Eagle Springs has hosted many a convivial gathering. And they have always centered around a hearty meal. “We decided we had better go ahead and assemble a cookbook before our recipes were forgotten,” says Holly Camplin, who helped to decipher and type up piles of handwritten recipes for the collection. Founded in 1790, Bensalem Presbyterian has a history as rich as Grandma Champan’s Chocolate Sheet Cake — found on page 83, by the way, in their inaugural cookbook, By His Hands (2011). The worship site has changed — once by choice, and again out of necessity when a fire burned their building to the ground in 1958. But church members have always broken delicious, homemade bread together, even — and perhaps especially — in times of hardship. Each Sunday, church cooks take turns preparing breakfast for the congregation. They have a spread of breakfast casseroles to choose from, but Delores Lewis’ “Brunch for a Bunch” remains perhaps the most requested. “The green pepper really sets it apart,” Camplin says.

When you live at The Village at Brookwood, you can relax and enjoy life without worrying about meal preparation, home maintenance or getting out in the weather to run errands. Instead, you’ll have time to exercise, visit with friends and explore new interests. Plus, you’ll enjoy the security and peace-of-mind that come from living in a premier continuing care retirement community (CCRC). The Village at Brookwood — This is how we do retirement.

Brunch For A Bunch

1 lb. hot bulk pork sausage 3 c. frozen hash browns, thawed �1/2 tsp. salt 2 c. milk 3 c. (12 oz.) shredded cheddar cheese 1/2� c. chopped green pepper 12 eggs, beaten

Cook sausage until brown, stir to crumble and drain. Place hash browns in lightly greased 13 x 9-inch baking dish and sprinkle with salt. Layer sausage, cheese and green pepper. Combine eggs and milk. Pour over all. Bake for about 50 minutes at 350 degrees. Yield: 8-10 servings. If for a large crowd (2030 people), I use 18 eggs and 2 pounds of sausage. PS

1860 Brookwood Avenue, Burlington, NC Sponsored by Alamance Regional Medical Center

Life Care & Fee-forService Plans

800-282-2053 www.VillageAtBrookwood.org

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012



January 2012 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


Home Again By Cassie Butler

After six months working

as a photographer with a medical nonprofit in Nicaragua, I am finally home. My time in Latin America seemed like it would never end, and yet it seems to have gone by in a blink of an eye. I feel both different and unchanged. It’s like time stopped, but now that I’m back, it has begun again.

When I left, summer was just getting started; now winter is in full force. I came home to a decorated Christmas tree and pets that had packed on the pounds for extra warmth. My nephew that I said goodbye to at three months old is almost walking now, and my two-year-old niece who only had peach fuzz for hair when I left is now sporting spunky “piggy tails” and talking a mile a minute! These are the things that remind me that time has been ticking the whole time I was away. Many people ask if it’s hard to transition back into life in the States after being without all the luxuries on hand, but it’s really not hard at all! Being home simply feels familiarly comfortable, like I am finally at ease for the first time in months. I visited homes in Nicaragua, but I never felt at home. I made a home in Managua, but I was still in Managua. After being robbed at knifepoint, I was always on edge in Managua. If I wanted to work late, I couldn’t take the bus home with my computer in my book bag for fear of another robbery. If I wanted to take a picture of a gorgeous sunset, I wouldn’t dare have my new camera with me. Filming and photographing out in the rural parts of Nicaragua was much safer and more enjoyable. My camera was always with me in the communities and I enjoyed the camaraderie, but I was still a foreigner. I doubt the traveling bug is completely out of my system, but for now, it feels nice to be in my home sweet home. My auntie duties are calling me, and so is PineStraw magazine. I am both honored and blessed to be home, to help out with my family, to take pictures for the magazine, to ride my horse, and to spend another day on this beautiful planet Earth. PS Cassie Butler is a contributing writer/photographer for PineStraw magazine.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012


Your future starts here please join us.


Enjoy golf privileges at 8 premier courses!

It’s Your Year Call today and reserve your private tour of our spacious homes, quaint cottages and beautiful apartments. Discover all Pine Knoll and Belle Meade have to offer as two

Nationally Accredited Continuing Care Retirement Communities.


910-246-1008 today for lunch and a tour!

St. Joseph of the Pines is an aging service network offering a full continuum of retirement housing, health care and community-based services for older adults as well as community outreach to those in need.



The Primary ipod

As you’re listening to them, what should they be listening to? By Jack Dodson

With the Presidential primaries right around the corner and an intense campaign season kicking into high gear, we thought we’d celebrate by bringing you selections from each candidate’s iPod.

‘Tis the season for politics, now that the holidays are over. Perhaps these selections will help you get in the zone and pumped up on your way to the voting booth.

Michelle Bachmann “Lyin’ Ass B****” by Fishbone The Roots got burned pretty hard for playing this song as Bachmann’s intro music on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. Bachmann called it a part of the media’s bias, saying that Michelle Obama wouldn’t be subject to the same treatment. But we know she secretly loves the funk of this song, and uses it to pump herself up before going on stage at the debates. “Miss Independent” by Beyoncé With all that sexism mentioned above, the Minnestota Congresswoman needs to balance it out in some way. Between Ann Coulter, Sarah Palin, and Michelle Malkin, she has a lot of female power to compete with. Pump it up, girl.

Newt Gingrich “Miss Independent” by Beyoncé Newt likes this song, too. It empowered him after his campaign staff quit on him early in the run. Too bad they missed his revival.

Mitt Romney “F*** You” by Cee-Lo Green Mitt uses this to remind himself how he felt when the Republicans went McCain-Palin in 2008. The chorus (of the clean version), “I see you driving ‘round town with the girl I love / and I’m like, ‘FORGET YOU’ / I guess the change in my pocket wasn’t enough / I’m like, ‘FORGET YOU,’” sums it up pretty nicely. With this in constant rotation on his campaign bus, no one will forget the goal: get out of the No. 2 spot.

Rick Perry “I’ve Got Friends in Low Places” by Garth Brooks Rick uses this to get into his zone and remind himself of his roots. It really helps with remembering federal agencies.

“It’s 5 O’Clock Somewhere” by Jimmy Buffett and Alan Jackson Given the ups and downs of Perry’s campaign, this one might become an anthem, especially toward the end. Then again, with an endorsement from Sheriff Joe Arpaio, who knows?

John Huntsman “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” by Simple Minds This Breakfast Club classic is what Huntsman wakes up to. The former ambassador to China and Utah governor has an uphill battle, so his aides work this track into all his playlists to keep his drive going.

Ron Paul The Pokémon Theme Song & “Eye of the Tiger” by Survivor These ultimate underdog songs are really what gives this representative from Texas the drive to keep going when he’s such an outlier. It must be disheartening to be the cult candidate, so he takes solace in thoughts of punching meat and having an electrically charged rodent for a best friend. “I Know” by David Lynch Random: David Lynch made an album in 2011. Wasn’t Eraserhead enough weirdness for one career? Random: Ron Paul is still around the GOP debates when he’s talking about legalizing all drugs, including heroin and cocaine. If these two should ever get together, the world won’t be able to handle the brilliancy/lunacy (depending on which way you look at it).

Rick Santorum “Kids” by MGMT Since this is Rick’s most common topic — his seven children — he loves the opening of screaming, obnoxious children. It helps him keep his focus on those family values. He has no idea what the song is actually about, just like most people.

Barack Obama “Yes We Can” by will.i.am Actually, this isn’t a joke. He put this at No. 10 on a list of songs he loves. For a dude whose aides wouldn’t let him watch news stories about himself during the Game Change years, apparently he liked songs made out of his own speeches. It’s worth a bet that Obama gearing up for 2012 means a remix is on the way. PS Jack Dodson can be reached at jdodson4@elon.edu.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012


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By Cos Barnes

You don’t move to the Sandhills without playing golf. Or so I thought.

My husband had given me new clubs when our third child was born. He was anticipating all the free time I was going to have, I suppose. Before we left Virginia in 1970, a sister-in-law and I were trying to learn the game. She needed change to pay her babysitter and ran into the clubhouse before the pro left. “Are you charging Cos for that lesson?” he asked. My husband was one of six, all natural athletes; the three girls could beat the three boys at golf, probably with a hand tied behind them. I started to play in self-defense because only non-golfers know how boring it is at a dinner party to listen to a hole-by-hole recounting of play by a golfer. My husband coached me and coached me. He really thought I was going to grow up and perform on the links like his sisters. I never did. But I tried. We went to Knollwood to have our game videotaped. This was the ’70s, and videos were rare. It was the era of the bell bottoms, and my bell bottoms were flapping in the breeze, as were my curls from a curly permanent. That didn’t do much for my game, but the Par Seekers at the Elks Club did. An 18-hole group, they decided to foster a nine-hole group on the “Little Nine.” After a few lessons, we named ourselves the “Swingers” and off we went to conquer the course and the game. We learned all the rules and called ourselves pros. I have such memories of that group. One woman was Peruvian, and I can still see her addressing the ball and hear her say, “Theese ball is going to die.” She was groping for our American expression, “I’m gonna kill it.” Realizing we were not getting any better, three others and I decided we would play for money, a nickel a hole. Unfortunately, we were no better at calculating winners than we were at winning. We would start out with nine nickels in our pocket and pay off hole-by-hole. No one, as I recall, lost more than a dime or two. 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 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012


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My Private Kennedy

Commentator Chris Matthews pulls no punches in his paeon to the iconic president — which makes it flawed, but quite readable.

By sTePHen e. sMITH

Given the political tenor of the country, the publication of a biography written by Chris Matthews, host of MSNBC’s Hardball, is tantamount to stoking a smoldering fire with resin-soaked heartwood. When the subject of the biography is John Fitzgerald Kennedy, there’s no avoiding a critical conflagration.

In addition to Hardball, Matthews hosts the syndicated Sunday news program The Chris Matthews Show — which means he’s out there almost daily doing battle with Megyn Kelly, Bill O’Reilly, Shawn Hannity, et al. But if Matthews is outshouted in the propaganda war, he manages to hold his own by rapid-firing more verbiage in 60 seconds than his nemeses can yammer during a week’s worth of stilted commentary. Matthews also boasts credentials that are more impressive than his cable adversaries’. He studied economics at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and for 15 years he worked for the Carter administration and held various posts in Congress, including staff positions for Edmund Muskie, Frank Moss and House Speaker Tip O’Neill. The winner of the David Brinkley Award for Excellence in Broadcast Journalism, Matthews has covered events of global significance such as the fall of the Berlin Wall and the post-apartheid elections in South Africa. And he’s the author of American: Beyond Our Grandest Notions and Kennedy & Nixon: The Rivalry That Shaped Postwar America, both best-sellers. His political views are less predictable than those voiced on the Fox News Network, but placed in context with other late-afternoon and evening MSNBC political analysts, Matthews is a trifle more conservative. Back in the innocent days of 2005, he went so far as to bark a few kind words in support of President Bush.

Putting aside political considerations, the question is straightforward enough: Is Chris Matthews’ Jack Kennedy: Elusive Hero worth the time and energy it takes to read 486 pages chockfull of facts, opinions, speculation, acknowledgments and endnotes? If you’re a JFK buff, the answer is, of course, yes. You’ll probably read the latest biography regardless of the author’s political leanings. And anyone who lived through the turbulent ’60s is likely to appreciate Matthews’ profound fascination with the JFK mystique. Indeed, it’s difficult not to get caught up in the passion. Moreover, Matthews offers new perceptions regarding Kennedy’s transformation from a McCarthy-supporting conservative to Democratic liberal, and manages to delve into the late president’s psyche — no mean feat considering his subject’s acknowledged inscrutability. His analyses of the formative events of Kennedy’s life and the highs and lows of his administration are related with thoroughness and balance, although he goes a trifle too far when crediting JFK alone with saving the world during the brinkmanship of the Cuban Missile Crisis: “It was his detachment that saved us,” Matthews writes. “Another man would have reacted with force to the Soviet treachery. He would have shared in the righteousness of the cause, been stirred to attack by the saber rattling. Jack resisted. He was not moved by the emotions of those around him. He knew his course and stayed to it. Thank God.” No doubt, Nikita Khrushchev, villain that he was, had a hand in averting catastrophe. For readers whose knowledge of JFK is limited to a few grainy frames of 8-mm film of a motorcade winding into Dealey Plaza, Matthews’ book will be an intense learning experience. He explores Kennedy’s reliance on his school and Navy buddies — and his ability to exclude them if need be — the compartmentalization of his life, the gravity of his various illnesses, and the ruthlessness exerted by the Kennedy family in pursuit of power. He also touches on JFK’s chilly relationship with his mother and his boldness in ignoring his father’s advice when he deemed it expedient. The Bay of

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012


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Pigs, NASA, the Peace Corps, the administration’s confrontation with the steel industry, the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty, and James Meredith’s enrollment at the University of Mississippi are all given thorough exposition. Matthews doesn’t linger on the unpleasant. The Bay of Pigs and the Vienna Summit don’t receive detailed analysis and Kennedy’s documented marital infidelities are explained away with a simple: “As a married man, he’d decided not to forgo his bachelor pleasures.” As for the Kennedy/Matthews haters who are likely to suffer grand mal seizures after glimpsing copies of Jack Kennedy piled high in bookstore windows, there’s little in this biography, or any other book, that will alter their opinion. They’ve already taken Matthews to task for offering nothing new in the way of scandalous or scholarly revelations, and they’ve concluded that Jack Kennedy is merely another liberal biographical interpretation that lacks objectivity. The truther/wackos crowd will also be livid with Matthews for not touching upon the Kennedy assassination and its conspiratorial insinuation — but mainstream readers, regardless of their political views, will probably be thankful the biography doesn’t become mired in endless speculation. God knows, the shelves are laden with books that thoroughly explicate the events in Dallas on Nov. 22, 1963. Even among diehard Hardball junkies, Matthews is likely to encounter some resistance. Fans are probably a trifle annoyed with the transformation of their favorite late-afternoon political talk show into a home-shopping network. Matthews has spent months immodestly praising his Kennedy biography, which suggests an unbecoming degree of self-indulgence and avarice. As of this writing, his JFK biography occupies the number four spot on The New York Times best-sellers list, just behind Bill O’Reilly’s Killing Lincoln. A biographer’s enthusiasm for his subject is commendable — even necessary — but it’s dangerous to allow one’s personal feelings to overpower one’s judgment, which is Matthews’ greatest shortcoming when writing about an American president whose potential went unrealized. Matthews can’t help but conclude his Kennedy’s biography with this simple but exuberant observation: “In the time of our greatest peril, at the moment of ultimate judgment, an American president kept us from the brink, saved us really, kept the smile from being stricken from the planet.” PS Stephen Smith’s most recent book of poetry, A Short Report on the Fire at Woolworths, is available at The Country Bookshop. Contact him at travisses@hotmail.com.

1 9/13/2011 4:38:46 PM 22MKTG22796_FRAMER.indd January 2012 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

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PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012



January 2012 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


Favorite Books

Our Friends at The Country Bookshop reflect on a few of their favorite literary picks from last year as a new season of reading dawns Kimberly Daniels Many of you may have read The Paris Wife in 2011. For those of you who haven’t, it is a fantastic fictional novel based on actual events told from the perspective of Hemingway’s first wife. It follows the couple from their meeting to their life in Paris and adventures in Spain. The book ends as Hemingway goes to Key West for the first time. It is here where my suggested reading list takes off. While many people have used The Paris Wife as an inspiration to read Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast, I suggest reading The Sun Also Rises, a favorite of mine and an adventure that the reader gets to relive in The Paris Wife. Following this, I suggest the reader dive into Hemingway’s Boat by Paul Hendrickson. This book is a biography of Hemingway from the perspective of his boat, Pilar. This nonfiction story line picks up in Key West at the end of The Paris Wife. Hemingway made his mark on Key West and a generation of writers made pilgrimages to the island to compare themselves to the great man. Next on my suggested reading list is Mile Marker Zero: The Movable Feast of Key West, a book that looks at these writers and creatives who went to Key West as a collective whole. William McKeen dives into Key West highlighting Thomas McGuane, Jim Harrison, Jimmy Buffett, Hunter Thompson and Tom Corcoran. I read Mile Marker Zero in spurts. I would stop and read books by the Key West writers as I came to them. It was a wonderful exercise. I found similarities between Jim Harrison’s The English Major and Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (please compare The Attorney and The Doctor). I started to look at this body of work as an interesting school of artists from the 70s and loved every minute of it. I suggest reading Jimmy Buffett, a writer who creates some of the best characters in literature. Start with his short story book Tales from Maragritaville, and pay particular attention to Tully Mars (a cowboy with a horse named Mr. Twain who finds himself in South America) and follow up Tullys adventures and meet Cleopatra Highbourne (a Lady Captain who is searching the world for the ‘soul of the light’) in A Salty Piece of Land. Other recommended reading are as follows: Ninety-two in the Shade, Thomas McGuane; The Longest Silence: A life in Fishing, Thomas McGuane (33 essays on fishing assembled over three decades); The Rum Diary, Hunter Thompson. One other book that shocked me cold with her fabulous writing and stories was The Homecoming of Samuel Lake by Jenny Wingfield. I have not read many adult novels where there are true delineations of good and evil, as that kind of worldly understanding exists mostly in novels for young adults. But Wingfield does not shy away from this understanding of people and the world. When Samuel Lake, a preacher, loses his congregation because he

keeps bringing homeless and unwanted people to church, he takes his family to live with his inlays. His mother-in-law runs a general store in the front of the house and his father-in-law runs a speakeasy called “Never Closes” in the back. Furthermore, the young daughter, Swan, is one of the most fearsome little girls I’ve come across since Scout Finch. There is a bit of child abuse and animal abuse in the story used only to illustrate evil in a man.

Janice Reagan IN THE GARDEN OF BEASTS by Erik Larson. It was just a part of that history before the war that I didn’t know. It was personal. The ambassador was an academic. It was interesting to hear how even in government some people don’t see what the true situation is. BUDDHA IN THE ATTIC by Julie Otsuka. Otsuka’s style is so simple but the story is so profound. The novel is about a young girl who came to marry the man without ever having seen him. The author is able to say so much in such a few words about their feelings and about what that was like. It is a very insightful read. PULITZER: A LIFE IN POLITICS, PRINT, AND POWER by James McGrath Morris. This book is a little bit different but I enjoyed it. Pulitzer was quite a character. He was one of the Germans who got to America by agreeing to fight in the civil war. When you think about the fact that English was his second language, it is really amazing to look at the things he accomplished. THE JEW STORE by Stella Suberman. A father starts a store in the 1920s, around the time when the clan was active and didnt know anything about Jewish folks. It’s just a very heartwarming book — a family memoir that is very funny and a lot of fun to read.

Bill Maher UNBROKEN by Laura Hillenbrand. Prepare yourself for a wide range of emotions (not all of them, thankfully, politically correct). The story of Louie Zamperini and his fellow prisoners of war clearly indicates that they were the greatest generation. A truly awesome book that will not be easily forgotten by anyone who reads it. EMPIRE OF THE SUMMER MOON by S.C. Gwynne. This mesmerizing account of the 40 year war between the Comanche empire and white settlers is an amazing work of history. Noteworthy for its total lack of political correctness, Gwynne makes the reader see and feel the epic struggle at the bloody and horrifying edge of civilization. Excellent book.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012


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DESTINY OF THE REPUBLIC by Candice Millard. President James Garfield has been shot. The nation is in shock. A gunman right out of modern headlines. A medical establishment that cannot comprehend the concept of invisible germs. Alexander Graham Bell desperately seeking the means to save the fallen leader. Popular history at its finest. Cannot wait until Millard’s next book. GEORGE F. KENNAN by John Lewis Gaddis. They were known as the wise men. Acheson. Bohlen. Harriman. McCloy. Kennan, however, was the wisest. Gaddis, simply the best of the Cold War historians, takes the reader deep into the mind and personality of the man who created containment. But Kennan suffered from a “profound uneasiness with complacency.” He was truely great, Gaddis argues, as a later critic of American foreign policy. Brilliant, fascinating man.

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PETE THE CAT: ROCKING IN MY SCHOOL SHOES AND PETE THE CAT: I LOVE MY WHITE SHOES by Eric Litwin. Fabulously cool Pete the Cat, the star of two fantastic picture books, loves his shoes. Whether strolling down the street, sitting in his desk, checking out things in the Library or being loud and busy in the lunchroom, it’s all good, because Pete is ROCKING in his awesome shoes. Includes a digital download of the story performed by the author. THE APOTHECARY by Malie Maloy. During the Red Scare of 1952, 14 year-old Janie moves to London with her parents who have been accused

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of being communists. There, Janie encounters a world of espionage, adventure and alchemy when she meets Benjamin, the son of the local apothecary and heir to a wealth of knowledge that could save the world from ramifications surrounding escalating tensions between the United States and the Soviet Union. Historical fiction paired with magic elixirs and transformational spells, this clever and often humorous title is perfect for voracious young readers. SECRETS AT SEA by Richard Peck. From Newbery-winning author Richard Peck comes this irresistible adventure story in the tradition of The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane and The Borrowers in which the nouveau riche Cranston family decides to journey to England in 1887 to search for a husband for their daughter and unknowingly take along an adventurous family of mice. Filled with history, laughs and idioms galore this wonderful new travelogue for ages 9-12 proves that even something as small as a tiny mouse can make big things happen. PS

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012



Cooked and Scrubbed I cleaned dishes and they dirtied them up again. Is this what they call a holiday?

By Dale Nixon

Cooking and cleaning

are all I know to talk about this month because that’s all I did over the holidays.

That knowledge amounts to very little, but if you wanted to know about cleaning supplies, I could assure you that Murphy’s Oil Soap is the cat’s meow. This little bottle of cleaner can put a sparkle on everything from wood to stainless steel. You can mop the floors with it, clean the toilets with it, and it has been known to remove crayon marks from walls. I guess I would rank Soft Scrub and Comet as cleaning supply seconds, but if used more than two times a day, they can really do a number on your hands. It just depends on how you feel about having red, chapped, cracked, itchy, alligator-like hands. I decided over the holidays that I know very little about cooking because I don’t remember what all I cooked, and I barely remember eating it. All I know is that I cook, and my family eats. I wash the dishes, and they dirty them up again. And this is called a holiday? I have made several other observations that amount to very little. Such as: A vacuum cleaner makes funny tinkling noises when Christmas tree ornament hooks are sucked up into it. Pine needles can survive in thick carpet for six months, even after repeated, vigorous vacuuming. Tinsel was invented by a mad scientist. It takes just as long to take the tree down as it did to put it up. The only way to remove glitter from a corduroy chair is to hold an exorcism ceremony. Sugar cookies should not be eaten in bed. Red food coloring, when spilled into the grout of white tile, will stain, never to be made white again.

Soda water will remove cranberry stains from a tablecloth (and some children). The average dishwasher will hold 32 soiled drinking glasses. Most Christmas china has to be washed by hand. My alligator-like hands. Fruitcake multiplies. A pot of spaghetti or lasagna has to follow the turkey and ham. A carton of eggnog will spoil on the 10th date of purchase, even if the fresh date is three weeks away. It is more fun to track mud in on a clean kitchen floor than it is to track mud in on a dirty one. It is a true test of patience to stuff tissue paper in your Christmas bows before storing them away. There is always one ornament left on the Christmas tree that ends up on the street. Dripless candles drip. Leftovers appeal more to your family when they don’t know they’re leftovers. It is easier to throw away the pan you cooked the turkey in than it is to clean it. Wash and wear is not always wash and wear. An angora sweater will not survive a clothes dryer. Tupperware and freezer bags are my best friends. Garbage is my worst enemy. My observations this month may amount to very little, but when all is back to normal, I will know a little more. I will know that I won’t have to go through this again for at least another year. Happy New Year. It’s time to relax. PS Columnist Dale Nixon resides in Concord but enjoys a slice of heaven (disguised as a condominium) in the village of Pinehurst. You may contact her by email at dalenixon@carolina.rr.com.

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

January 2012



Cheek and Jowl

From country staple to city chic, the once lowly hog jowl is the new darling of flavor

By David C. Bailey

“Grab your cheek

and pull on it,” is what Heath Putnam is urging me to do over the phone. I follow his instructions. “If you pinch and pull, that will be the muscle that’s the jowl on the pig,” he says. All I can feel, I tell him, is the soft flap of flesh between the inside of my mouth and the skin on my cheeks. “Bite down,” says Putnam, whose luscious, sweet bacon triggered my obsession with hog jowl a few years ago. “Whoa, I can feel something tightening,” I say. “Connective tissue,” says the Washington State hog farmer. “That’s the human equivalent of the streak of lean in hog jowl. The rest is fat.”

To Putnam, who raises fat-marbled, fork-tender Mangalitsa hogs, developed in 1833 by the Hungarian Royal Archduke Jozsef, “fat” is by no means a dirty word. You can buy Putnam’s Mangalitsa hams, and sometimes his Mangalitsa jowls, from Johnston County Ham Co. in Smithfield. Do note that a 12-18-pound Curemaster Reserve Mangalitsa Ham runs $275! It’s divine, but for me, Cumberland Gap Provision Co.’s hog jowl at Food Lion for $2.99 a pound suffices to bring a little bit of heaven to Earth on a Saturday morning when I’m craving bacon. “Endocannabinoids,” says Putnam. “Look it up if you don’t believe me.” I did, on livescience.com. It seems the fatter the jowl, the happier the baconeater. Fatty foods, the website says, “trigger the body to produce chemicals much like those found in marijuana . . . These chemicals, called ‘endocannabinoids,’ are part of a cycle that keeps you coming back for just one more bite of cheese fries.” Or that second piece of bacon. This time of the year when people are buying hog jowl to add flavor to their traditional greens and black-eyed peas, I’d like to take a moment to sing the praises of this humble, underrated, workingman’s bacon — and suggest several other ways to eat it. And I’m not alone. “I love jowl,” says Mark Elliott, whose distinct Southern accent comes from southeastern Britain. The chef and owner of Elliott’s on Linden in Pinehurst unabashedly


uses hog jowl in soups, stews and salads, especially lentils dressed with a simple sherry vinaigrette. “Fat has become trendy,” he says. “Everybody is getting back to eating fat again. You’re even starting to see it in magazines, a little fat here, a little fat there. There was a time when they turned their backs on it.” No pun intended. That’s all changed since Mario Batali introduced jowl at Babbo, his ultra-trendy New York City boite. Of course he called it something else, but his house-made guanciale is good ole hog jowl cured Italian-style. David Chang of the iconic Momofuku isn’t afraid of the j-word. He featured Fuji-apple salad, graced with jowl, kimchee and maple yogurt. “Anytime your most popular chefs start pushing something, there’s going to be a trickle down,” says Elliott. “Jowl is an off-cut and off-cuts are very popular now.” Matthew Hannon, chef at Ashten’s Restaurant and Pub in downtown Southern Pines, features braised jowls over grits. “Jowls are really becoming the popular, underutilized cut,” he says. Because there are, regrettably, only two jowls per pig, he only features them when he gets a whole pig from his hog supplier, Little Ass Farms in Derby. Hannon first braises the jowls, and then slow cooks them with Dr. Pepper, serrano chilies and onions. Finally, he deglazes the pan to make a sauce and serves the jowls over grits, sometimes adding shrimp. Hannon admits that chefs like “off-cuts” because they lower food costs, but he also says, “they showcase a chef’s techniques — all the years we spent in school.” Though they come from proximate regions of the pork’s anatomy, jowls and cheeks are two distinct cuts of meat. A cook’s tour of the pig in New York Magazine, of all places, pinpoints the difference: “In butcher speak, the jowl is the entire area on the side of the pig’s face; the cheek is a muscle nestled behind the pig’s jaw. The jowl is what you make guanciale from; it has a slightly gamey flavor. The cheeks have a stickier texture, becoming silky and soft after lengthy braising.” In January, Elliott plans to serve pork cheeks from Cane Creek hogs, braised in wine sauce and served with turnips and gnocchi (potato dumplings). My daughter, who has lived in Spain six years now, says the best part of winter in central Spain is when carrilleras de cerdo (cheeks of the pig) go back on the menus. “They’re always slow-cooked with a wine sauce, as in carrilleras de cerdo al Pedro Ximenez, and though I didn’t at first think I would like pig cheeks, I’m all about them now.” Christopher McKinley, a chef who has worked at Goat Lady Dairy in Climax, Neal’s Deli in Carrboro and most recently as butcher in resi-

January 2012 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

dence at Eseeola Lodge at Linville Golf Club, explains that two Englishmen, Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall and Fergus Henderson, were pioneers in getting off-cuts onto the menus of upscale eateries. Ferguson, whom he calls an offal-kind of guy, penned a book on the subject, The Whole Beast: Nose-to-Tail Eating.” He single-handedly has given cooks and chefs the OK to play with offal and entrails in the modern day culinary era,” says McKinley. “There is a dish simply titled crispy pig cheeks, served with a salad of dandelion greens.” At Eseeola, McKinley served cheeks and also cured jowls, sliced them thin, crisped them in the oven and paired them with heirloom tomatoes and balsamic vinaigrette. A lot of classic Italian recipes call for guanciale, he says, and it’s fine to substitute hog jowl, though guanciale is not smoked. “In my opinion, using guanciale is the only way to make a true spaghetti carbonara,” McKinley says. I picked up further evidence of jowl’s succulence following the barbecue circuit. The barbecue chefs who spend long hours cooking hogs for pig pickings understandably get what’s called the pit master’s choice — the finest tidbits from the finished hog. Time and again, I’ve seen them reserve the jowl for themselves or special guests — including me if I’m lucky. You’ll likely have hog jowl leftover from your New Year’s greens and black-eyed peas. I would urge you to gently and slowly fry it until it browns ever so slightly. My favorite brand for eating as bacon is Smithfield Sliced Pork Jowl Bacon, available from Harris Teeter. The almost hand-sized slices look a little bit like picnic ham, though they’re much more, well, fat. The bacon’s sweet, savory and lightly smoked with hickory. Its texture is smooth and not in the least stringy. Have you ever found yourself wrassling stringy bacon out of a BLT with your teeth? Jowl solves that problem. Food Lion’s Cumberland Gap jowl is much smokier and not as sweet, though neither brand is particularly salty. It, too, has a great texture. Smithfield also sells whole smoked pork jowls available at Wal-Mart. They’re nothing like the sliced jowl described above. This bacon is quite salty, and not particularly smoky. However, it’s the bacon I prefer for seasoning greens and blackeyed peas. I know you’re waiting for the word on jowl’s fat. Admittedly, two ounces of jowl has 27 grams of fat, which is 42 percent of the minimum daily requirement and half the saturated fat anyone ought to consume in a single day. But look at it this way: Jowl contains no trans fat whatsoever, no sugars, and only 2 grams of carbohydrates. And according to a number of knowledgeable chefs, the fat in hog jowl is 100 percent fashionable. ‘Nuff said? PS Our foodie David C. Bailey is a contributor to PineStraw magazine and O.Henry magazine.

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PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012



January 2012 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


Let’s Drink to Your Health

The medical benefits of consuming wine are numerous and growing. But who’s counting?

By Robyn James

Evidence continues to mount that wine

drinking goes hand in hand with a healthy lifestyle.

The American medical community has a bit more difficulty than their European peers admitting that in many medical conditions, wine consumption is a healthier choice than abstention. We are not giving the healthy nod to other forms of alcohol, just wine. There are two reasons for this: wine, particularly red wine has 1) resveratrol and 2) grape seed polyphenols. The combination of these two compounds can prevent or relieve the effects of dementia, diabetes and even osteoporosis. Check out what they do for us.


Men who consume up to two glasses of wine per day have a 40 percent lower risk of suffering an ischemic stroke. Polyphenols have been found to block and neutralize the toxic plaques that build up and kill cells in the brains of Alzheimer’s patients. One research team found that a combination of wine, dark chocolate and tea, in moderate amounts, would enhance cognitive performance in the elderly.


Moderate red wine drinkers run roughly half the risk of developing cataracts as nondrinkers, according to a study in Iceland. And, a survey in the U.S. found that wine drinkers are less likely to suffer from age-related macular degeneration.


There is still a great deal of controversy regarding wine consumption and breast cancer. A 2008 study found that resveratrol suppresses the metabolism of estrogen, protecting cells from becoming cancerous.


Researchers in Sweden have found that drinking an average of five to ten glasses of wine per week may cut the risk of developing rheumatoid arthritis by up to 50 percent, compared with the risk to nondrinkers. In addition, other studies have found that moderate wine drinking is linked to increased bone density in elderly women, possibly lowering their risk of osteoporosis.

Colds & Flu

Wine drinkers are less likely to come down with colds or flu, up to 50 percent. Polyphenol, a well known anti-inflammatory, is the magic bullet that may block the virus itself.


People who consume wine appear to be at an advantage when it comes to preventing type 2 diabetes, up to 58 percent.

Counting Carbs

Dieters are going to love this: A 5 oz. glass of wine typically has between 3.69-3.82 grams of carbs, way less than any soup you could drink. Light beer is twice that amount and a soft drink about ten times that much.


Here’s where wine really shines. Wine can reduce the risk of atherosclerosis and heart attacks by as much as 60 percent. Congestive heart failure is the most serious threat to women, so this benefit is huge. It also can prevent peripheral artery disease which cuts off the blood supply to the legs. It can reduce high blood pressure and high cholesterol. And, although there isn’t a scientific study to support this theory, imbibing wine has been proven to convince you that you can dance better than you previously thought prior to consumption. 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 2012



910-944-2526 • 1-800-345-3608 ©2011 Lennox Industries Inc. Lennox dealers include independently owned and operated businesses. May be available with the installation of qualifying high-efficiency products. To find out more about tax credits, ask your tax adviser.

Point-of-view City Drawing - JJ Love January 11, 9:00-3:00 pm $50 Follow The Leader - Joan Williams January 16, 10:00-3:00 - $70 no discount “Where Do I Begin?” – Drawing Prep For Still Life Painting - Barbara Sickenberger Jan. 17, 19, 10:00-3:30 $90 Digital Art: Brushes, Brushes Everywhere But Not a Drop of Paint - JJ Love January 18, 10:00-3:00 $40 Intermediate Chinese Brush Painting: The Lotus the Kingfisher and Koi Loretta Moskal January 21, 10:00-3:00 $40 plus $5 supply fee Creating With Oils: Beginning Oil Painting - Diane Kraudelt January 23, 30, 9:00-4:00 $120 plus $28 supply fee

Introduction To Colored Pencil Betty Hendrix January 25, 10:00-4:00 $50 plus $5 supply fee

Introduction to Chinese Brush Painting Loretta Moskal February 11, 10:00-3:00 $40 plus $15 supply fee

WORKSHOPS 2012 Feb 13 -14 Dianne Rodwell “Exploring Encasustic: The Ancient Art of Painting with Molten Wax”- 2 day - $475

Alcohol Ink Dreamscaping - June Rollins January 27, 9:00-12:00 $30 plus $5 supply fee

Intermediate/Advanced Soft Pastel on Canson Mi-Teintes Paper - Betty Hendrix February 15, 10:00-4:00 $50 plus $5 supply fee

April 2 -5 Sterling Edwards “Expressive Creations in Watercolors” – 4 days - $365

Alcohol Ink Dreamscaping - June Rollins January 27, 1:00-4:00 $30 plus $5 supply fee Introduction To Soft Pastel - Betty Hendrix February 1, 10:00-4:00 $50 plus $5 supply fee Painting the Human Form Abstractly JJ Love February 1, 6:00-9:00 $30 plus $7.50 model fee Collaging Out of the Box - Sandy Stratil February 6, 7, 10:00-4:00 $100 plus $5 supply fee Intermediate/Advanced Colored Pencil: Colored Pencil on Mylar Betty Hendrix February 8, 10:00-4:00 $50 plus $5 supply fee Cubist Form Painting - JJ Love February 8, 15, 6:00-9:00 $60 plus $15 model fee


How Do I Begin? Getting from the drawing to the oil painting - Linda Bruening February 18, 25, 10:00-4:00 - $100 Follow the Leader - Joan Williams February 20, 10:00-3:00 $70 no discount Ink Refresher - Karen Walker February 21, 9:00-1:30 - $40 Intermediate/Advanced Colored Pencil On Dark Paper Betty Hendrix February 22, 10:00-4:00 $50 plus $5 supply fee Understanding Light and Shadow Betty DiBartolomeo February 27, 28, 1:00-4:00 - $60 Intermediate/Advanced Soft Pastel on Sanded Papers Betty Hendrix February 29, 10:00-4:00 $50 plus $7 supply fee

July 18 - 20 Harold Frontz “Mastering the Elements” Oil - 3 days - $210 Oct 16 - 18 Kate Worm “On Location and Moving Toward Abstraction-A Contemporary Approach” Oil, Watercolor/ Gouache, Acrylic Accepted - 3 days $415 (Member Discount Available)

Exchange Street Gallery Opening

“Instructor Demo Day and Exhibition”

January 8th - 28th Opening/Reception

January 8th, 2012 • 2 - 5 pm

January 2012 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


Punched By History

A pre-Revolutionary libation that can still liven up a winter gathering

By Frank Daniels III

Even with the

holidays officially over, this is truly a spiritous time of year — a great time to throw a party to beat the winter blues and celebrate the convivial presence of family and friends.

With that in mind, break out the punch bowl that sits tucked back in the closet. A couple of years ago I went looking for an excuse to use our silver punch bowl for something other than the fantastic family egg nog and discovered this fantastic Fish House Punch, which has been served continuously at the Schuylkill Fishing Company since 1732. The Schuylkill club was founded by a group of Philadelphians (male of course) as a place to get out of the house, fish, talk about fishing and politics, smoke foul tobacco, and drink. They built a large structure on the banks of the Schuylkill River and christened it the castle. Members, known as citizens, called their club the State of Schuylkill, and kept as one of their state secrets the recipe for their famous punch. An interesting, but of questionable veracity, version of Fish House lore is that the punch was created in 1848 to celebrate the momentous occasion of women being allowed into the premises of the “Fish House” for the first time in order to enliven the annual Christmas party. It was supposed to be just something to please the ladies’ palate and get them livelier than is their usual wont. A more likely version of the lore of the punch was portrayed in 1896. The local Philadelphia newspaper trumpeted that it had unearthed the true recipe and published it in an article, How Fishhouse Punch is Made, Ingredients of the State in Schuylkill’s Seductive Concoction. “The secret of the making of the original fishhouse punch is jealously preserved by its guardians…” The Philadelphia Times wrote. “…the original receipt of pre-Revolutionary days is still in vogue on the festal days which the members celebrate, and that it is as follows: One bottle of brandy, two bottles of Jamaica rum, a quart of sour, and a pound of sweet. The addition of a dash of peach brandy and some sliced fruits completes the deadly tale.” The Times went on to relate, “The older members state that many years ago there was used in the compound two and a half pounds of sugar, but that frequent attacks of gout warned them that too much saccharine matter was disabling their underpinnings…” The recipe allows us to remember a time when brandy was the spirit of choice in the Colonies, because apple brandy was about all that was available;

and how rum became the coin of commerce and the source of many fortunes, albeit the commerce was nefarious and laid the foundation for deep division and struggle as our nation matured. Fish House Punch is served in a large nine-gallon bowl with a large ring of ice to maintain its chill. A festive addition has been to freeze fruit in the ring and float it in the bowl. I add peaches, mango and raspberries and freeze them in a large bundt pan. Sipping punch from a Jefferson cup, you can easily imagine Thomas Jefferson and the other framers of our liberation from the yoke of King George debating the wording of their declaration in the smoke-tinged rooms of Philadelphia. Enjoy.

Fish House Punch

1 btl Light rum 1 btl Dark rum 1 btl Cognac 1 c Peach brandy 1 c Simple syrup 3 c Fresh squeezed lemon juice 1 btl Club soda 1 btl Ginger ale 1 Orange (sliced) 1 Lemon (sliced) Large block of ice

The day before serving, prepare a large ice block that will fit into your punch bowl — a bundt pan makes a nice ice ring. Use distilled water and add frozen fruit, (mangoes and peaches are best), to the water. Freeze overnight. In a large punch bowl combine all the liquid ingredients except the club soda and ginger ale. Refrigerate. Just before guests arrive, remove punch from refrigerator and add club soda and ginger ale. Stir gently. Place the ice ring or block in the punch and float the orange and lemon slices on top. Ladle the punch into punch cups. Garnish with an orange slice or cherry if desired. Be careful; it’s very strong. And Happy New Year. PS Frank Daniels III is an editor and writer living in Nashville, Tenn. His cocktail book, Frank’s Little Black Bar Book, Wakestone Press, is available at The Country Bookshop. fdanielsiii@mac.com.

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

January 2012




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January 2012 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


The Tail of a Spotted Dog My official “wag” awards for 2011 (don’t make granny snarl)

By Deborah Salomon

See Dick. See Jane. See Spot. Look, Dick and Jane. See Spot run.

Americans who learned to read with Dick and Jane know when the tail starts wagging the dog. Spot certainly does. Spot doesn’t like it. Spot growls. You don’t have to be a first-grader to pin those tails on other dogs, like the big, green, leafy dog. I sat outside the Weaver Street Market co-op in Southern Village, Chapel Hill, one gorgeous autumn afternoon, sipping a bottle of iced organic black tea, catching up on the natural/organic/locavore/green movement. Inside, counters were stocked with luscious produce, meat, bread and dairy. Cashiers had rosy cheeks and a kindly buzz. This is good stuff — a fine way to live if you can afford it. Flashback 30 years, to the Great Birkenstock Generation that gave birth (naturally, with a midwife, at home) to the co-op movement. Stores thrived in off-neighborhoods populated by students, musicians, back-to-earthers. In Vermont, where I lived then, beards and threadbare jeans not purchased as such camouflaged stockbrokers married to heiresses with long, bushy locks, droopy skirts and, speaking of droopy, no bras. Their minimally groomed children resembled Renaissance cherubs. Blissful. The co-ops themselves were, well, a bit musty. Potatoes in boxes, apples in paper bags, grains in bins, flies everywhere … you know the drill. Not so, shoppers at this super-duper pristine market located in an upscale planned community. No wormy apples here. I did spot a few waist-length braids and rainbow serapes — more, perhaps, than at Whole Foods, Bread & Circus, Wild Oats and other chains (sales in the billions) patronized by well-heeled nouveau nutrition activists. Speaking of heels, priced Birkenstocks lately? Not to mention certified organic broccoli rabe. And dog chow. Look, Jane. See the yappy pups chase their tails. Political debates are for letting voters watch candidates in action, answer hard questions, confront one another. The participants must be sharp, shrewd, smart. Traditionally, debates included two, sometimes three presidential nominees. The debates got hot, but I don’t remember much frantic “My turn, my turn” hand-waving. Remember Kennedy and Nixon? Thirteen months before Judgment Day, 2012, eight or fewer Republican hopefuls strutted their stuff on primetime TV again and again and again. Each “debate” was moderated by a network personality who tried his or her darned best to keep the proceedings focused. The sets were handsome, the

candidates buffed, the audience primed. Morning-after commentators dissected each nuance. The debaters (minus no-shows) provided ample flubs for late-night comics. I sort of lost interest in favor of Showtime’s “Homeland,” a really good spy adventure. And now, mercifully, college basketball. The danger of this wag, I’m afraid, is diluting the process by overexposure. Secondarily, the better we know candidates, the less attractive or qualified they appear. What would Abe Lincoln and Stephen Douglas say? I’ll tune in again when and if the incumbent and his anointed challenger draw swords. Otherwise, go Dook! In its simplest form, isn’t banking based on the bank “borrowing” our money to lend out for a profit that exceeds interest, if any, paid to the depositor? Now, on top of everything, banks want to charge customers for accessing their own funds by debit cards, from tellers and such. Perhaps this is because banks have diversified into credit cards, ATMs and a host of services costing dearly to maintain, not to mention corporate offices rivaling Trump Tower. And bank officials who draw movie-star salaries. I realize this image is meant to convey solidity, trust. But I’d trust a FDIC-insured no-frills bank that doesn’t hit me with more ancillary charges than the phone company. I pay bills and receive statements electronically but still want face time with a polite teller who even knows my name. How quaint. How pleasant. Oh, I’m sure the banks have reasons for proposing this wag. I’m not buying them with debit, credit, check or cash. And neither, it seems, is the government — hardly a trustworthy institution. But it’s all we’ve got until the guy/gal with the best suit, fewest closeted skeletons and least ambiguous answers ascends the heap. My final wag goes to an unnamed airline. I cooperated — online reservation, kiosk check-in, horrendous fare, frustrating delay — until boarding the plane. My carry-on was bulky and a bit heavy. I’m strong but short. I have gray hair. After struggling to lift the bag into the overhead bin I flagged a flight attendant — tall, brawny, young — for help. I’m sorry, madam, he simpered, but I am not required to handle luggage. If I get hurt and can’t work I’ll lose my job. I AM YOUR JOB, granny snarled back. Hearing this, a gentlemanly black and white Springer spaniel sprung out of his seat, wagged his silky tail, heaved the bag at the bin and sunk his teeth into the flight attendant. Look, Dick. Look, Jane. See Spot jump. Give Spot an organic biscuit. PS Deborah Salomon is a staff writer for PineStraw and can be reached at debsalomon@nc.rr.com.

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

January 2012


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 today to visit our continuing care retirement community and discover all that we have to offer. to learn more, call us at (910) 692-0386 or (910) 692-0382.


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


January 2012 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


Northern Mockingbird Berry-laden hollies and dogwoods are a natural place to find this extraordinary singer in the winter

By Susan Campbell

Here in the Sandhills, we have

a number of birds that are with us year-round but most are easy to overlook in the colder months. One exception to this rule is the familiar Northern mockingbird. This medium-sized bird is not especially colorful but it can be very feisty — both male and female alike. They are mostly gray with a black mask. The sexes are identical and both call and sing. Their name originates from the fact that this bird vocalizes using the calls of others. In fact, mockers will imitate a wide variety of sounds, including those made by non-avian species as well as mechanical noises. They are well known to perch in the open and advertise their territory throughout the year.

The Northern mockingbird is the only mockingbird species that breeds in the United States. It can be found coast to coast from Mexico up into southernmost Canada as well as in Cuba and Haiti. Mockingbirds inhabit a variety of open lowlands such as parkland, forest edges and cultivated areas. They are very adaptable and are generalists, feeding on insects, seeds, berries as well as suet at feeding stations. Preferences do not change through

the year and, in fact, many mockingbirds remain paired and defend the same habitat summer and winter. The males will use the white patches on the inside of their wings as warning flags to both potential competitors and predators. During the warmer months, this species may have as many as three sets of young. As soon as mid-March a pair may be incubating their first clutch of three to five white eggs. Nestlings grow quickly and become vocal once they are about a week old. However, at this point they are only capable of making a loud squealing sound when they are hungry. The adults are dedicated parents that can be very intimidating around the nest. Mockingbirds will attack any perceived threats that come too close, including people. A goodsized dark bird suddenly swooping out of a thick bush at your head certainly gets your attention! In our yard, we do not have any mockingbirds until fall arrives. An unmated individual will wander in and settle in for several months. It will be replaced by the closely related and migratory gray catbird in spring. But from October through March at least one mockingbird will defend the berry-laden dogwoods and hollies — as well as the feeders. It can be found running around on the driveway chasing small insects. On warmer days he or she will stand guard from a tall shrub in the front yard and dart out to chase off robins, jays and even bird hawks that show up. Certainly “our” mockingbird is a welcome sentry for the small birds that call this home — as well as wonderful entertainment for us. PS Susan would love to receive your wildlife sightings and photos. She can be contacted by email at susan@ncaves.com, by phone at (910) 949-3207 or by mail at 144 Pine Ridge Drive, Whispering Pines, NC 28327.

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

January 2012



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January 2012 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


Thick on the Ground

Hunting woodcock and grouse in northern Michigan was a special treat — even the one that got away

By Tom Bryant

“I figure it’s gonna

take us about twelve to fourteen hours to get there, Tom. You’re an early bird. What do you think about leaving at four in the morning? I’ll pick you up and we’ll be way up the road by daylight.”

Rich Warters had invited me to go grouse and woodcock hunting in the wilds of northern Michigan back in the spring, and here it was time to leave. I was excited. I had never been to Michigan, much less on a grouse hunting trip. The woodcock would just be icing on the cake. Rich’s dog trainer, Robert Ecker, was at Houghton Lake running dogs at the famous Gladwin bird dog field trial grounds. He had been there for the previous two weeks and had offered to take us out hunting and show us the area. It benefited both parties; he got to work his bird dogs and we got to shoot birds over them. Houghton Lake is on the southwest shore of the largest natural inland lake in the state of Michigan. The lake has thirty miles of shoreline and covers about 20,000 acres. It’s an extremely popular resort and fishing area year round. The lake offers almost every species of game fish found in the state. Catches include northern pike, bluegill, walleye, crappie, yellow perch and largemouth and smallmouth bass. If Rich and I had not been on a quest for grouse, this would have been a great place to wet a line. The trip was grueling but not so much because of traffic. Rich was right; by leaving so early in the morning, we missed a lot of the city congestion that we would have run into during commuting hours. The time sitting behind the wheel, though, took a toll on this good old Southern boy. We drove through West Virginia and Ohio, then into Michigan; and fourteen hours after our departure, we arrived at our destination. We were registered at the same hotel as Robert Ecker. As we were unloading our vehicle, a muddy four-wheel drive pick up pulled up beside us and a young fellow stepped out. “You folks must be the hunters from North Carolina?” “You’re right there,” I said. “And we’re glad to be here. Michigan is a long way from home.” The youngster laughed and replied, “I’m Derek Zukovich. My friend and I are hunting with Robert. As a matter of fact, they stopped to get some gas and should be here any minute.” “How did you do today?” Rich inquired. “We got two grouse and missed a couple of woodcock. Robert seems to think the woodcock flight isn’t here yet.” “Well, Tom and I are going to unload all this stuff and kick back a bit. Why don’t you fellows join us for a drink and dinner and you can fill us in?”

We had just got settled and were unwinding with a much needed Scotch when the hunting crew arrived. “You boys should have been here today,” Robert said. “These two got a pair of grouse.” Joe Semasek was with Derek, the young fellow we’d met when we arrived. Joe is a stately gentleman and was holding a pair of grouse, one already cleaned and one in the feather. “Wow,” I said as I admired the grouse. “These things are a lot bigger than I thought. It would be hard to miss something that size.” All three looked at me and smiled. “You wait,” Robert said. “They fly pretty quick. Hopefully, you’ll find out tomorrow.” The next morning dawned cold and gray with a low overcast and fierce wind out of the northwest. We met Robert out by the dog truck. He was talking with Derek and Joe, who would be with us for the morning hunt and then leave for home after lunch. “You boys ready to go?” Robert asked. “I figured we would stop for breakfast, then head to the woods and see if we could find some grouse. This weather is supposed to make a drastic turnaround this afternoon. We could have a little snow.” As we drove, I was really surprised by the lack of people and farms in this wide-open area of the country. There was literally nothing but a wild forest of low brush and aspen trees, cut through with dirt roads. All a hunter had to do was pull off at a likely looking spot and hunt. I asked Robert about it as we were getting our gear ready. “All of this area is owned by the county and state. It’s timbered by contract now and then, but mostly it’s habitat for wildlife.” Derek was leaning against the truck ready to go and asked me what I was shooting. “I brought my little 870, 28 gauge,” I replied. “I figured if we were doing a lot of walking I didn’t want to haul a heavy gun.” “It’ll work,” he said, grinning, “but you’d better zip up your hunting coat. It’s thick where we’re going.” Robert let an English setter out of his truck, and the little dog hit the ground running. I would like to say that I did too, but it would be far from the truth. As a matter of fact, that morning began an endurance test that was as difficult as any I’d experienced in a long time. The cover we were hunting was so thick that, at times, I had to crawl under brush. Robert kept up with the dog, and I tried to stay parallel to the group. I thought to myself, it was going to be a long day. As we worked our way through the cover, our setter pointed. “Over here!” shouted Robert. “We have a point!” I looked around through the heavy cover in amazement. I couldn’t see Robert, much less the dog. “There he goes.” I could hear the sound of the grouse as it flew over the cover and away. No one had a shot.

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January 2012


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The day progressed more or less in the same manner. Derek happened to be near the dog as it pointed, and he got a grouse. As Jim walked the dirt road, he got a grouse that was flushed right in front of him. I continued to struggle with low growing alders and was ready for the day to end. The next morning, we accompanied Robert Ecker to the famous Gladwin field trial grounds to watch him run a couple of his dogs. Robert’s an interesting fellow. He is one of the finest bird dog trainers in the state of Pennsylvania, and his Midnight Kennel is known throughout the sport as one of the best places to put a talented dog for training and field trial work. He has produced many champions with his advanced methods of training. On our ride over to the grounds, I got to talk to him a bit about his kennel and found out that his wife, Kim, and young son, Michael, are huge supporters of his work. “Yeah, it’s rough being on the road so much. I miss my family, but I love what I do. I’ve got twelve dogs with me now and twenty-five back at home. They’re good animals and I’m happy with the way they’re progressing.” The two that he ran that morning did well and he was pleased. After lunch, we hunted cover close to the trial grounds, and Rich got a grouse and woodcock. Meanwhile I was in alders so thick that I dropped my hat and could hardly bend over to pick it up. It was another long afternoon. The next day was our last chance at hunting, and I still hadn’t fired my gun. We began our trek through the field, though, and I kicked a grouse up right under my feet and missed him clean. I still can’t see how a bird that big can fly that fast. All too soon our trip was over, and it was time to load up and hit the trail home. We were up and at ’em again at four o’clock, having loaded most of the gear the evening before. As we motored south, both of us watched hard for deer in the darkness. The area was wild, and we had noticed several road kills when we were hunting. We sure didn’t want to become another deer wreck statistic. Rich had the first driving leg, and as we hit cruising speed he said, “Well, what do you think, Tom? Have a good time?” “Rich, it’s a great, wild part of the country, and I loved coming up here to hunt and appreciate you asking me. But remember those two old-timers we met in the diner the other morning and you asked them about their winters?” They said the year was nine months of winter and three months of rough sledding. I believe I just went through the rough sledding part.” He laughed, and as the sun came up, we picked up speed as we headed home. PS

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Tom Bryant, a Southern Pines resident, is a lifelong outdoorsman and PineStraw’s Sporting Life columnist.

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January 2012


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The Quiet Gem of the Sandhills Tucked away and largely unknown to outsiders, Southern Pines Golf Club delights everyone who plays it

By Lee Pace

Beyond the small greens and

intricate chipping areas, past the features inviting the ground game and the limited use of water hazards and forced carries, the earmark of a Donald Ross golf course is a great routing. Ross arranged holes like Monet ordered brushstrokes and Chopin aligned notes. Poetry in golf, so to speak. Exhibits A, B, and C in the Sandhills golf universe are, of course, Pinehurst No. 2, Pine Needles, and Mid Pines, each an early 1900s masterpiece and a venue over multiple decades of elite golf competitions. Tucked away in the southeast corner of Southern Pines is yet another monument to Ross’s old-world sensibilities and eye for turning hardscrabble ground into inviting golf — Southern Pines Golf Club. This 1923 Ross relic has never hosted the U.S. Open or Ryder Cup … There is no opulent inn next door … It hasn’t a deep reservoir of marketing dollars … And in truth the 1970s architecture of the clubhouse and the neighboring Elks Club are like most structures and garments of that era — just what were we thinking? “People see the clubhouse and they see the ratty range and they say, ‘What have you gotten me into?’” golfer Ran Morrissett says. “I say, ‘Hang on, just give me a couple of holes, you’ll soon understand.’” Indeed, lace a nice little draw on the par-four first hole, pinch a nine-iron off the firm fairway and nestle your putt into the cup on a starkly canted green and you’re off on a golf adventure that taxes your strength on some holes, your touch in every nook, your skills at curving shots, your ability to plan shots and to balance risks and rewards.

Morrissett, a devotee of the course since his move to Southern Pines in 2000, is walking and carrying his bag one bright December afternoon along the fourth fairway. He nods to a row of condominiums to the right. “You see homes on four and five, but that’s it,” Morrissett says. “The rest of the time, you’re literally immersed in nature. How fortunate are we to have a course like this? Personally, I think it’s on the best property in Moore County. All of this is sand, and it’s rolling, up and down, up and down. You walk off one green, and in a few steps you’re teeing off. At some point, you’d think the architect is bound to get stuck with one bad hole. But here there is one appealing hole after another.” Golf has been played on this ground just south of Morganton Road and east of Broad Street for more than a century, as postcards collected by the Moore County Historical Association show holes in existence today being played in the 1910s. The final routing for Southern Pines Country Club was established in 1923, with Ross later adding nine holes and planning for nine more that were never built. By the onset of the Great Depression in 1929, Ross had designed four courses at Pinehurst and one each at Pine Needles and Mid Pines. The Depression strained every golf operation in the nation, the ones in the Sandhills included. Mid Pines and Pine Needles went bankrupt at one point or another and the Tufts family of Pinehurst struggled in operating its resort and private club. The Southern Pines golf operation was a drain on the town’s coffers, and after World War II the town sold the course to Mike Sherman, a Connecticut businessman who knew the area from his frequent visits to Pinehurst. In Sherman’s employ in Bridgeport in the late 1940s was a young accountant of Hungarian descent who complained that the cold Northern winters were bad for his golf game. So Sherman dispatched Julius Boros south to Southern Pines to keep the books and give golf lessons to Sherman’s wife, who came south for the winter. It was on these holes at Southern Pines that Boros sharpened his skills to the degree he could tie Sam Snead for runner-up honors behind champion Toney Penna in the 1948 Men’s North and South

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Open at Pinehurst No. 2. Two years later, Boros turned pro and launched a Hall of Fame career. Sherman owned the course until 1951, when he sold it to the Benevolent & Protective Order of Elks, which remains the owner today. The course has been operated since 2007 by Avestra Golf Management, which leases it from the Elks. It is open to the public at all times, and memberships are available. The greens were rebuilt by architect John LaFoy in 1998 to accommodate faster putting surfaces, and he added a tee on the 15th hole to lengthen it from a par-four to a par-five. The course plays 6,268 yards to a par of 71. “What struck me most about Southern Pines was that you had a really fine layout,” LaFoy says. “It’s just a really, really good layout. It’s outstanding. That’s what Donald Ross did so well — his routings. He used the topography very well.” Among Avestra’s initiatives in recent years has been to aggressively clear out decades of underbrush accumulation between holes, allowing for better vistas and air circulation. “It’s the absolute best value on a Ross course for this type of condition in the area,” says director of golf Doug Thompson. “It’s a daily fee course and it’s affordable. What hurts is the physical perception as you drive in. Once you get out there, the golf course and the conditions are off the charts.” Morrissett lives less than a mile from the course and often plays at twilight during the summer, taking three hours or thereabouts to walk the course. He remembers seeing it for the first time in the winter of 2000 and thinking it should be in Golf Magazine’s Top 100 Courses in the World, for which he serves as a course rater. About the same time, Morrissett and his brother created GolfClubAtlas, a website that has developed an international presence among golfers and architects interested in travel and classic design. Morrissett has been effusive in his praise of Southern Pines on the website and is eager to invite his golfing pals to town to experience the course. “I know, a little irrational exuberance,” he says with a laugh of his first impressions. “I got carried away. But I just loved it. I felt like I’d stumbled on a gem the rest of the world didn’t know about. I thought, ‘How have I never heard about this place?’ There is so much good golf here.” Early 20th century design customs didn’t require an architect to return the ninth hole to the clubhouse, so Ross had the freedom to route the course in best manner possible (e.g., No. 2, Forsyth and Linville, among other Ross gems of the era). Ross did so at Southern Pines by wrapping the eighth through 11th holes around a lake positioned half a mile south of the clubhouse and using the water feature as a visual backdrop on several other holes.

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There are small nooks in the front of some greens that make hitting and holding perilous. The player who can hit a driver flush with a draw on the par-five fifth hole can gain a trampoline effect of 30 more yards off the sloping fairway. The player who can launch a high fade can drive the green on the left-to-right shaped 11th. Eight and 10 are par-fours that require precise short-iron approaches, then 12 comes along and demands a hefty long iron or fairway wood uphill into the green. Accuracy off the tee is necessary to negotiate the bounces off the sloping fairways. You’ll find no confetti or mascara at Southern Pines. No bright-eyed cart boy will descend upon your arrival. Grab your bag and go hit it. And hit it again, nothing more, nothing less. “Without any doubt the thing I am sure of is, if more kids had exposure to this as their idea of golf, the sport would be thriving,” Morrissett says as his walk in the park continues. “If this is not your cup of tea, then golf is not your cup of tea.” PS Lee Pace will write about hickory golf and other vintage topics in his forthcoming book, “The Golden Age of Pinehurst,” due out in spring 2012.

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January 2012 Benjamin Gorham Hamp Tells How in dead january the memory sheds flesh & faces fade like calico you go from the graveyard deep into the pine wood & sit so quiet the wind could be voices you know ain’t there make a fire against the cold & just listen Listen

— Stephen E. Smith

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012 49


Running For Our Lives Running with my father has always been sweet salvation, a tonic for the soul By ashley Wahl


y father is an early bird. Always has been. On Saturday mornings, when our neighbors were pressing snooze or brewing their first pots of coffee, Dad was lacing up his running shoes. If there was a chill in the air, he’d have on the same nylon pullover he wore in the days he pushed me in my stroller. I woke to join him when I could. Sometimes we’d run around Reservoir Park, alongside Nick’s Creek or through the Sandhills Horticultural Gardens, breathing in nature’s gracious offerings. Aromas of flowering shrubs, longleaf pines, the very soil beneath us. We ate our share of spiderwebs too, plowing face-first through the silk-spun wonders of the night. Many times we ran Dad’s favorite loop. When I visit home, we still do. My father knows the route by heart — how long it takes to reach each bend, every landmark. He knows every change in the terrain and patches where the woodland critters like to graze. There is a pond beside the trail. Cattails and wildflowers dance along its edges. In years of abundant rainfall, the water swells with life, its surface rippling as if by raindrops from the motion beneath it. In times of drought, the pond becomes — at most — a lowly puddle. Such is life. When I think of this pond — our pond — I think of some of the most meaningful conversations my dad and I have ever shared. Conversations about life and death, the choices we have and the factors that are beyond our control. I think of all the stories he has told me. Stories about fishing with Papa, playing baseball, becoming a father. They say people have different ways of expressing their affections. In daily life, my father is a quiet man. But during our runs together, I feel as though I’ve come to fully understand him. Even when no words are spoken between us.


Let’s begin here: I’ve been running for as long as I can remember. At recess, when the other girls were playing house, I was chasing boys. And I could usually catch them. With ease. I chased the fellows in high school, too. Nat Carter, the legendary cross-country coach at Union Pines, immortalized in my mind in his faded orange ball cap, challenged me to train with them. The guys and I would meet before sunrise, when the morning was still and the earth wet with dew, for a five-mile loop around rural Cameron. We ran past pastures, tractors, chicken coops. We breathed in bucolic splendor. And ammonia. I kept up with some of the boys. I even fell for one of them — the one who offered me his sweatshirt when the air cooled after meets. His scent would linger on my skin. But I never did catch him. Numbers mattered then. Junior year, I completed a 5K (3.1 miles) in 19:25 (6.2 minutes/mile) — a school record that I am certain by now has been broken. I’ve yet to break it though. Since high school, running partners have come and gone. Naturally, boys have too. But my dad has always been there, and we’ve put in more miles together than I care to track.


January 2012 � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

We’ve run along the North Carolina coast and over stretches of the Blue Ridge Mountains. And three half-marathons to date. When I was 9 — a knobby-kneed, fair-skinned she-miniature of my father — I joined him for my very first 5K. Dad was 36. It was Independence Day in Hope Mills, the place my grandparents chose to call home when Papa was stationed at Fort Bragg. Dad played baseball at the local high school. The Hope Mills Lake glittered in the July sun that day. I have no recollection of how hot it was or how long the race took us to finish. More than likely, I was more interested in the snow cone I’d asked Dad to buy me afterward. Of the run itself, I don’t remember much. But I do recall crossing the finish line in perfect stride together. And it never crossed my mind that Dad was slowing down for me. In 2003, the Hope Mills Lake was drained when heavy rains caused the earthen dam to fail. The place my father learned to water ski, where he fished beneath the cypress trees, remained barren for five years. In 2008, a new dam was completed and the lake was restored to its former glory. But two summers ago, the Hope Mills Lake was drained again. That was the summer Papa died. Summer faded slowly. Dad was running more than ever. When November rolled around, we signed up for our second half-marathon together, the annual (13.2-mile) Turkey Trot in Pinehurst. The air was freezing. Naturally, Dad wore his old nylon pullover. I hadn’t been training like he had. Running had become his outlet, even a kind of sweet salvation Not long after the gun fired, I realized I was slowing him down. But every quarter-mile or so, he’d offer a double-clap of the hands, paired with the phrase, “Steady Eddie, Ashley.” I begged him to leave me in his dust. He wouldn’t do it. “This is a fine pace,” he assured. “Nice and steady.” But the clapping and chanting continued, and by mile four (only 9.2 to go), I knew it wasn’t fair to hold him back. I insisted that he go on, please, to see how fast he could finish. “Steady Eddie,” I said to Dad, who in no time was a distant speck. And as I ran, alone, I thought about the silent lessons my father has taught me over the years. Lessons of selflessness and sacrifice. Of rising early and starting the day with fresh air and exercise. Of channeling energy to good use, especially in times of hardship. We finished the race at our respective paces. For the record, his happened to be two-minutes-per mile faster. Go, Dad. Perhaps I’ll never run a 5K as fast I did in high school. And unless I step up my training, I may never run a half-marathon as fast as my dad, although I’m certain he’d slow his pace down just to run with me. But I won’t beat myself up over it. In recent years, running has become far less of a competition and much more a means of meditation — a movable feast of quiet time to reflect, think and notice things. On a solo run not long ago, I saw a pair of birds in flight above me. And as I watched them glide through blue infinity, I realized why we weren’t designed to be alone. Life is best when shared. And, for me at least, running is too. PS Ashley Wahl is the Associate Editor of O.Henry Magazine and a contributor to PineStraw magazine.

Photograph By Cassie Butler


PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012 51


My Need to Ride Sometimes fitness is a steep uphill ride. But oh, what a view from the top By melIssa hall


ho am I, you may well ask, to be writing a column designed to inspire readers to get off their duffs and honor their New Year’s resolution to exercise in 2012? I’m certainly not an authority, a 47-year-old single mom with three young kids. In fact, I have a physical condition that has hampered me throughout my life, a knee that periodically pops out of joint. Why should you read another word? Maybe it would help if I told you that after sprawling onto the cement roadway of Central Park in my 20s, staring at the sky trying to find the courage to look at my knee, I underwent physical therapy before joining a bike club, determined not to let my knee rule my life. I am proud to say that last summer I completed a 67-mile-long leg through the French Alps that follows the path of the Tour de France, the E’Tape du Tour Mondovello. Talk about a transformation. My accomplishment is modest compared with others in the cycling community, but what I want each of you to realize is that is it largely because of my physical limitation that I developed a framework to achieve what was for me a major accomplishment. You don’t need to join a gym or get an expensive piece of fitness equipment to get back in shape. You just need to dig down deep and find the resolve and courage to go forward, sometimes one small, and, yes, painful step at a time. I did. My kneecap dislocated all the time when I was a kid. Hurtling to the ground, I would cry with pain. I didn’t know what had happened, but it always popped right back into joint. As a tomboy, trying to have more scars than Annie Richards, this phenomenon


became part of my vigorous days. A doctor showed my parents that I had an exceptionally shallow patella groove and the kneecap is prone to slide out to the left. Not unusual in young females, without constant strengthening, it would continue. And did. The turning point came in the late ’80s when I was living in Manhattan enjoying a great 20-something life. The morning I found myself lying on the ground in Central Park with my kneecap dislocated, I knew what had happened was serious because my leg was above me in a funny angle and the kneecap would not pop back in. A huge wind of terror was blowing over me, stuck on my back in a not-so-great area of the park. Luckily the jogger who came upon me in the park was a doctor, who carefully straightened my leg so the kneecap popped back in. “You just need to straighten your leg if it happens again. You’ll be OK now.” Eventually I carefully stood up and with little old lady steps walked back to my apartment. After physical therapy with my leg immobilized for three months, I dove into cycling, joining the Century Road Club Association. Surprisingly, New York City affords amazing cycling opportunities. I rode north, through neighborhoods I would normally avoid in a car, and enjoyed spectacular views riding over the George Washington Bridge to the state line and down the beautiful woodsy River Road to see the broad Hudson River on the Manhattan side. After moving here with my then-husband and having three kids in quick succession, I rode infrequently. It was again my knee that got me back into the next chapter of riding after I dislocated

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my kneecap again in 2004. And again, physical therapy led me back to cycling. In March of last year, a friend asked if I wanted to join him to ride the “E’tape du Tour” in France in July, and I jumped at the chance. What is this strange sounding “E’tape” thing? It is a “citizens’ ride” in which the common man or woman gets to ride a stage of the Tour de France in a mass, organized ride. The 2011 event drew more than 8,500 people ranging from former pros to complete novices. The actual pros rode this stage days later as the 19th section of the Tour de France. This same route has been incorporated into the Tour many times and is famous for its three massive classic mountain climbs — Col du Telegraphe, Col du Galibier and Alpe d’Huez. It is on these three ascents that epic cycling battles have occurred over the years. My battle to stay fit and active, though a relatively small skirmish, was huge in reinvigorating my confidence and courage. Amazingly, once I began to climb the first hill, Col du Telegraphe, which was rated as very difficult — 7% — I discovered I was in pretty good shape compared with those around me. I found myself pedaling through one lovely village after another with a handful of cheering residents. Call it silly, but I felt as if they were cheering me and my triumph over my knee problem. I had never seen such a fascinating landscape. Rolling hills gave way to massive, bare mountains. We filed our way up roads that snaked along the sides canting, ever more steeply back and around and on. One time I yelled “stop” in French at a shepherd’s dog as he prepared to take his sheep across the road. He did! I had spoken French to a French dog and he had listened! As we got higher, the carved mountains gave the bizarre visual phenomenon of appearing in the distance both so far away and awesomely right on top of you. The road became more narrow and the climbs more

intent and rock-faced. It got steeper than I ever imagined, turn after turn. Finally at the top, I pedaled into a milling, elated throng and took in the amazing view. I’d made it and all I had to do was repeat what I’d done that day, and the next day, and the next. My knee still bothers me. I went jogging in early October without my knee brace in Weymouth Woods, and after jumping a herd of bedding deer that rose out of the fall leaves like an apparition, my kneecap went out again. While wearing a massive leg brace, I became a magnet to strangers who shared their own knee stories. That led me to think about all the myriad afflictions people have. As you wrestle with the demons of lassitude during January and February, you may find it reassuring to realize that you’re not alone in having some ailment to contend with — a bad back, an old football injury, an aching rotator cuff, 40 extra pounds, or a trick knee like the one I have. It is challenging — and sometimes discouraging — for all of us, but what I personally discovered is that the body I had was up to the task. All I needed to do was ask it, politely and patiently, to follow my orders. Now I will go ride my stationary bike trainer in an unheated closet in my house to do the work the physical therapist has outlined. My body has issues that I will always have to work on, as everyone must. The work may not be easy but it still must be done. After all, if you don’t constantly fight against the steep path and obstacles that age and injuries put in front of us, they will be the ones that win the race. PS Melissa Hall is a marketing consultant and lives in Southern Pines with her three kids and four bikes. Always looking for interesting opportunities for work and fun, you will find her playing outside whenever possible.

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Song of the Trail

The story of a young man, a long hike, and his guitar By ashley Wahl


hey called him Picker. He’d probably showered fewer times than he could count on his fingers over the past five months. And he hadn’t shaved once. But he was smiling as if he’d just found gold. His father met him in Maine at the base of Mount Katahdin, just five miles shy of the Appalachian Trail’s northern terminus on Katahdin’s Baxter Peak. Together, and with a few others Picker had met along the way — Easy Flow, Red Man and Snow Man — they made their way up to the summit, emotions surging. When they got there, the first thing Picker wanted was a cold beer. A shower could wait. Surely Tim Wilson noticed. Something about his son was different, aside from his funky odor and somewhat disheveled physical appearance. Something internal. “The trail changes you,” says local boy Jeremy “Picker” Wilson of what hikers endearingly call the AT — a 2,200-mile woodland hike that stretches from Springer Mountain, Georgia, to the tip-top of Maine’s highest mountain. “You realize you don’t need much to be happy. A shower and a clean change of clothes no longer go unappreciated.” Picker completed the AT two summers ago. He’d embarked on March 9, on the morning of his 24th birthday. His father hiked the first few miles with him, for support, then patted him on the back — which, by the way, was bearing the load of 40-plus pounds of supplies — and headed back toward the truck. Picker brought with him the bare essentials: tent, sleeping bag, two sets of clothes — one for hiking, one for sleeping — a small propane stove, a guidebook or two, a water purifier and light, dehydrated foods. Soap and deodorant were left behind. Camera and journal were more valuable. He brought his Martin travel guitar along too. That’s how he got his trail name. Not surprisingly, the hike was tough. Sometimes it rained for two weeks straight, or the air was bitter cold. Blisters were inevitable, as was the occasional stomach bug. And threats of wild boars, poisonous snakes and black bears — especially protective Mama bears — were ever-present. But in the midst of the various perils and discomforts, an abundance of radiant moments, fleeting as they were, made the whole trek worthwhile. Cooking with wild onions. Watching hummingbirds feed on wildflowers. Picking huckleberries. Making folk music by the campfire. Sleeping beneath a blanket of stars. Reaching summits. And views words can’t describe. “There’s certainly a withdrawal period once you finish a hike like that,” says Picker, now clean-shaven and sharply dressed in a collared button-down shirt. “You’re inspired to seek out another adventure.” So he did. Just eight months after completing the AT, Picker set out to trek the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), another long-distance mountain walk in the wilderness (approximately 2,663 miles) that stretches along the Western Seaboard. Another five months spent trudging through the wild, from the Mexico border to British Columbia. The kid’s not crazy. You can tell by looking at him. But there is a glint of


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wonder and wanderlust in his eyes. “I guess I get it from my father,” he says of his adventurous soul. “My dad hiked a lot when he was younger, and pictures from his travels inspired me to follow suit.” With no trail markers (the AT has white blazes), the PCT calls for map and compass. And with 700 miles of desert to cross, getting lost is not an option. Not a healthy one, anyway. “You learn to read maps pretty quickly,” Picker says. “And you really worry about not having enough water.” In some cases, he worried about too much water, as in wading across rivers or plugging through 500 miles of snow. In Falls Canyon, California, Falls River took Picker under, along with everything he was carrying. Wet wood doesn’t always dry well. At mile 1,000, his faithful companion had split open. He sent his guitar home but kept on trekking. But just as each trail had its own trials, each had its own draw. And magic. “Trail magic” is a term defined as any charitable act of kindness a through-hiker might experience along his or her journey. (Through-hikers, to be distinguished from day and overnight hikers, are the serious souls who start at one end of the trail, determined to get to the other.) And it’s great for restoring a hope in the goodness of humanity, says Picker. Strangers worked their magical spells on Picker with cold drinks, hot food and free rides to civilization. Some welcomed him into their own homes to shower and sleep. One couple even put him up in a hotel room for a night. Then there was nature’s magic, like seeing a gang of elk or mountain goats. And serendipity. Day one on the PCT, for instance, Picker bumped into a through-hiker he had met the previous summer on the AT. The two hiked much of the trail together, minus a good stretch of California when a stomach bug caused Slapshot to fall back for a bit. He caught back up the day Picker reached Oregon, though. Tim Wilson made a little magic happen too. After catching wind of his son’s broken guitar, Tim, who happens to be a local musician, wrote Martin & Co., telling them all about Picker’s adventure, and how its handiwork had survived a wilderness voyage as his son’s ultimate sidekick. When Picker crossed the Bridge of the Gods, which connects Oregon to Washington, he took a detour into town to claim a package of supplies he’d sent there miles ago. The post office also handed him a long box. Inside? A new guitar sent courtesey of Martin & Co. After 600 miles without music, the gesture brought him nearly to tears. The new guitar made it all the way to the Canadian border. The cracked one will soon travel to Pennsylvania, where it will hang in the Martin Guitar Museum. When Picker isn’t hiking or planning his next grand adventure — which happens to be completing the Triple Crown of American long distance hikes by trekking the Continental Divide Trail — the elementary education grad works for Moore County Schools as a substitute teacher. And his Martin goes everywhere with him. “My mom teaches,” says Picker, explaining what influenced his career path. “And I love kids.” Then out breaks his sheepish grin. “Plus, there’s all that vacation time teachers get.” Picker plans to tackle his third long distance hike next spring, giving himself a full year to prepare for perhaps his most dangerous adventure yet. “I’m trying to find some buddies to go along with me,” he says of the 3,100-mile trail that cuts straight through the heart of grizzly country. “You don’t want to do that solo.” During Picker’s previous adventures, cell phone service was limited. He contacted his anxious parents when he could. He never felt alone, though. “I met so many people out on the trails,” he says. “There’s certainly an interconnectedness out there. It’s like family.” When summer break comes along this year, you’re likely to find Picker camping out in the Great Smokies, handing out hot dogs to passing through-hikers and returning a little trail magic to his fellow wanderers. “Life on the trail really helps you to appreciate the little things in life,” says Picker. Even showers, though not always the frigid, unrelenting ones that fall sideways from the skies. “You can be having a horrible day, then, all of a sudden, the rain stops.” PS

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012 55


Well-Balanced Lives

How the ancient discipline of yoga changed two lives — and brought a couple closer together By John anD JUlIe tamPa

Julie: I had heard about yoga, and kept meaning to try it. With a family history of back issues, I’d had surgery to have a steel rod attached to my spine to keep a curve from deepening. I knew keeping my back flexible and strong was key to my well-being. I finally took the plunge, and during my first class I knew I’d found something life-changing. When we became empty nesters last fall, it was the perfect opportunity to begin my yoga teacher training. It’s one of those things — like the shoes John mentioned — that you find, and you want everyone to know about. I want everyone to feel as good as I do when I finish practicing for an hour! It’s hard to convey though because people have preconceived notions of what yoga is, or they’re intimidated by the idea of going to a studio for the first time. But when you begin to understand some of the benefits — the physical benefits alone — it’s incredibly compelling. The ability to “be” in challenging poses, while maintaining one’s composure by focusing on the breath, is a helpful metaphor for how to approach life in general. In most life situations, there is a great deal that is beyond our control … events that take place, the behaviors and attitudes of others. It is most helpful, therefore, to focus on what is within our control … how we are functioning. You learn that you can balance, or you can do an inversion, or you can get more deeply into a pose you’ve been working on. And with that knowledge, you begin to realize you can tackle challenges in other areas of your life. In the practice of yoga and meditation, we have both experienced a deepening of our sense of presence in the moment in our daily life and work. As teachers, it is this gift we hope to share — journeying together into a more centered and peaceful way of being in the world — and in so doing benefiting also the lives of others around us. Western medicine has just begun to look at how yoga affects us, and the research results are already amazing. Study after study confirm physical,


measurable benefits. Because we often stay in “fight or flight” mode longer than we need to — we call it chronic stress — our levels of the hormone cortisol linger, dampening our immune function, and generally wreaking havoc on our bodies. Studies are showing that yoga reduces our cortisol levels, thus decreasing our stress. Yoga also stimulates our parasympathetic nervous system, lowering our heart rate and blood pressure, and sending blood to our glands, organs and lymphatic system, creating a state of restoration and healing in which our bodies become more efficient at extracting nutrients from food and eliminating toxins. Yoga provides a way to manage a wide range of chronic health conditions, such as cancer, depression, pain, anxiety and insomnia, by helping with sleep problems, fatigue and mood. In fact, research has shown that heart failure patients who practice yoga have improved levels of C-reactive protein and interleukin, which means it is affecting molecules in our bodies that are known to predict risk for serious disease, reducing inflammation, which is responsible for a litany of health problems like heart disease, diabetes, and depression. Practitioners of yoga enjoy increased physical fitness. As you learn and refine new poses you may enjoy improved balance, flexibility, and range of motion and strength. And you are less likely to injure yourself in other physical endeavors or in your daily activities. If you’re overweight or have binge-eating disorder, yoga may help you make the healthy lifestyle changes necessary to gain control of your eating and drop those extra pounds. Yoga increases GABA, serotonin, and dopamine, feel-good brain chemicals responsible for feelings of relaxation and contentedness. These are the same chemicals you’ll find in drugs therapists prescribe to help people feel better. With yoga, you get those same benefits without the side effects. We didn’t need the studies to tell us all that, though. Just stand outside a studio and watch the students leaving. Those beatific smiles will tell you all you need to know. John: If you don’t know us, we don’t want you to get the idea that we are perfect. Just ask anyone who knows us and they’ll set you straight. But the beauty of life is that we are all works in progress and that we don’t have to be perfect. In fact, I am hoping God grades on a big curve! Julie: So wherever you are, whatever your strengths or limitations, we invite you to give it a try. We have many wonderful places offering a wide variety of yoga practices in our area, and lots of great teachers dedicated to helping you on your journey. PS John Tampa is the rector of Emmanuel Episcopal Church. Juie Tampa is a certified Yoga instructor.

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Photograph By Hannah Sharpe

John: My wife is an elegant Southern beauty. In the most thoughtful gracious way, she asks questions and makes suggestions, but rarely tells me what to do. After 23 years of marriage, I’m still a bit slow on the uptake. For the past nine months, she’s been telling me about this pair of Vivobarefoot shoes she bought that are the most comfortable she’s ever put on her feet. When she mentioned she was buying a second pair, the coin finally dropped and I ordered a pair. And they’re the most comfortable things I’ve ever put on my feet. This has been a recurring theme in our marriage. After many years of long-distance running and nagging injuries, I watched Julie come home from her yoga practice renewed, invigorated, talking about how it helped balance her running, how great she felt, how it was impacting every area of her life. I kept trying other things: weight lifting, occasional stretching, walking. In 2005, I took my first yoga class and was immediately hooked. I was initially attracted to its emphasis on strength, flexibility, and balance. But beyond that was the obvious body, mind, and spirit connection ... a concept with which long distance runners are quite familiar.

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PineStraw’s Holly & Ivy Dinner Tuesday, December 6, 2011 • The Carolina Ballroom

Gangsters, Bootleggers and a Night of Speakeasy Glitz Photographs By John Gessner


Mary Stewart and Gene Shaffer, Mike and Kelly McCrann, Randall Phillips, Peggy Sarvis

Kerriann Hillgrove and Frank Dean

Betse Hamilton

Ruby and Bill Sledge

Marcie and Peter Hill

Jim Dodson

Wayne and Vickie Hadock

Mike and Susan Sanders

Terry and Gary Strohl

Cynthia and John Strickland

Jane Dreher, Susan Currie, Jane Clark

Jean Thompson, Chuck Heblin

January 2012 P�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

Judy and Jerry Townley, Carol Alexander

Jim Dodson, John Chappell, Jack Nance, Tom Shannon

Keith and penny Junk, Steve and Judy Leggett

Joan Latta, Anne Louise Howell, Suzanne Faker

“Those folks down in Pinehurst know how to throw a party. Me and the boys had a grand time. If I didn’t like Chicago so much, hell, I’d move my operation here.” — Host Big Al Capone

Linda Covington

John Chappell

Bonnie and John Root

Anne and Roy Keys

Laurie and Jake Howe

Liz Stern and Pam Hampton

Eric and Helen Von Salzen

Richard and Anne Agnew

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012 59

“The food, the clothes, the band — it was all so perfectly delightful. I didn’t even mind the machine guns, cherie.” — Coco Chanel


Robert Lowery, Linda Covington, James Schmatenberger

Michelle Palladino, Jim Dodson, Kathryn Galloway, Darlene Stark, David Woronoff

Paul Blake, Jean Thompson, Chuck Heblin, Jenny Thompson, Bill Swift

Susan and Graham Huston, Liz Stern, Pam Hampton

Janet and Jack Farrell

James Schmatenberger, Margee Anawalt, Robert Lowery

Darlene Stark, Andie Rose, Charlie Eichhorn, Michelle Palladino

Karen and William Meadors

Tom Stewart and Linda Covington

Annette and Al Daniels

Kathryn Galloway, Kay Lund

Bob and Sharon Wilson

January 2012 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

You’ll fi nd more than 50 of the best brands here, including one you can’t find anywhere else. Adidas • Peter Millar • Sport Haley • Tail • Tehama • Puma • Titleist • Tommy Bahama • Under Armour • FootJoy • Straight Down Pinehurst Collection • SDI • Zero • Maui Jim • Oakley • Brighton • Dooney & Burke • Putterboy Collection • Vera Bradley • Isda Cole Haan • Lilly Pulitzer • Iliac • Aveda • La Bella Donna • J. Lindeberg • Ashworth • Oxford • Polo • Ashworth • Adidas • Ahead American Needle • Bobby Jones • Callaway • Cutter & Buck • EP Pro • Fairway & Greene Gear • Greg Norman • Imperial • Nike

The Pinehurst Shops are full of shirts, shoes, jackets, spa products, bags, gifts and accessories from brands like Vera Bradley, Adidas, Nike, Peter Millar and Cole Haan. So come in and find your favorites. Village of Pinehurst, North Carolina • 910. 235.8154 • pinehurst.com

e Guest

FICtIon By tIm Johnston



he answering machine down the hall in the kitchen clicked on after the fourth ring. Carl stared warily at the portable phone atop the dust-blanketed printer, ready to answer, maybe, if the caller wasn’t from the home office. He waited for Rachel’s tired voice to finish the greeting. The machine beeped. “Carl, it’s me.” Her voice wafted from the kitchen, attractive but irritating in its “I-know-what-you’re-doing” kind of way. “Pick up, honey. It’s about dinner.” Carl heaved himself out of his black swivel desk chair, sighed heavily, and picked up the portable. “Hey, Rae,” he breathed. “Just getting some work out of the way. What’s up?” The silence at the other end made Carl certain that she somehow knew of his morning spent with TV Land and the Superstation. But he really had been working since lunch. He really had. “Carl, you mind if someone from the office joins us for dinner tonight? He’s new, and doesn’t know anybody. You mind, sweetie?” Please, Rae. Not tonight. I’m in no frame of mind. “I guess that’s fine. What time? I’m not cleaned up.” Instinctively, Carl combed the fingers of his right hand through his tousled dark hair, as if she could see him in his funk. “Not until about eight, I think. I should have time to get home and fi x something by then. Okay if I tell him to come by about eight?” Idol’s on at nine. Remind her. “Sounds like a plan, Rae. Eight.” Damn it, man. Speak! “You’re so sweet. I know you wanted to see your show. I’ll make it up to you, baby.” I sincerely doubt it. “No problem, Rae. Any friend of yours.” “See you about seven,” she said, and hung up. Carl returned the phone to the top of the printer. He tried to re-focus on the spreadsheet before him on the computer monitor. It was no use. Three months on the new job, and already he was sick of telecommuting. Tired constantly, he had wondered recently whether he was sick, or whether leaving the school world for that of business was indeed killing him. Either way, the last thing in the world he wanted this evening was to host some hotshot broker from Rachel’s firm. He’d never leave before Idol, for sure. Why didn’t you just say so? “What the hell,” he muttered. “It’s just a couple of hours. Out of a lifetime.” Carl wandered into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of warm flat Coke from a two-liter container on the island. He downed the soda in several swallows, rubbing his left thumb absently against an orange juice stain on the counter. He walked into the living room, where the television was still on from his lunch date with Matlock five hours ago. He stretched out on the sofa nearest the television, aware of his lethargy, annoyed by the phone call, and swiftly fell asleep. A sound, abrupt like a thud or whack, awakened him. He groggily wiped dried drool from the left corner of his mouth, rose slowly, and looked around him. Much of the light had gone from the room and, though the vertical blinds were drawn over the sliding glass door leading to the balcony, he could tell that evening was falling fast. He entered the kitchen and glanced at the range clock. Six-forty-six. Jesus. Just enough time before Rachel gets —

The rap at the door was heavy, assertive. Carl vaguely wondered whether a knock was what awoke him in the first place. He bent down in front of the range door and used his reflection to smooth his hair and tuck his wrinkled white button-down into his jeans. Maybe she’s got groceries. Door’s not even locked. Carl cleared his throat and strolled slowly toward the door. The knock came again, almost obnoxious in its insistence. “Coming,” he said, hoping that the knocker, especially if it was Rachel, would detect the disapproval in his tone. Carl opened the bluish-gray metal door. Before him stood a well-groomed man of about thirty-five, his sandy-blond hair slicked back in a style which reminded Carl of Gordon Gekko in the movie “Wall Street.” The man wore an unnecessary tan trenchcoat, unbuttoned, over a dark-blue pinstriped suit. “Yes?” Carl asked, a bit uncomfortable with the man’s casual stance — hands in pockets, slouching to the right, eyes on Carl’s. “I believe I’m early. You mind?” “Oh. You must be Rachel’s guest.” The man straightened and removed his hands from his pockets. “I suppose I am. May I come in, or shall we plan to dine in the hallway?” “Um, sure. Please come in.” Carl stepped aside, and the guest strode confidently past him, removing his trenchcoat as he walked. He was several inches over six feet, like Carl, but considerably less filled-out. Lithe, like a tennis player. Carl guessed that they were about the same age, but this fellow was dramatically more fit. Five years earlier, Carl reflected, and that certainly would not have been true. He’d become sedentary since he and Rachel had gotten married two years ago, but he had resolved just a couple of weeks ago to begin working out again. Soon. The guest held the trenchcoat out toward Carl as if expecting Carl to put it away. Carl, irritated by the suggestion of superiority, made a suggestion of his own. “Oh, just throw it anywhere. We haven’t fixed the place up much yet. Any old chair will do.” “Okidoke,” the man replied, and dumped the coat on the dining table. You know, we might be using that for dinner. The guest stuck out his hand, smiling smugly. “Your wife didn’t give me your name.” “She didn’t? Oh. It’s— it’s Carl.” Carl shook the man’s hand, and was immediately disgusted by the guest’s dead-fish handshake, the kind that always made Carl think a man might be a little light in the loafers. But something about this man seemed as straight as James Bond. Insincere. That’s what that handshake says. “Hi, Carl. Can a man buy a drink around here?” The man stepped into the living room and sank into Carl’s red leather chair. “I didn’t catch your name,” Carl offered. You’re over an hour early. Carl forced a smile. And you know damn well a red leather chair is never for a guest. Never. The guest shifted comfortably in the chair, and placed his wingtipped feet on the red leather ottoman, crossing the left wingtip over the right. “Smith,” he said, examining his fingernails. Oh, come on. “I see. What — what’s your first name?” The seated man responded with an incisive look in Carl’s direction, followed by a return to scrutinizing his fingernails.

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“John.” He smiled and looked back up at Carl. “John will have a screwdriver, Carl.” She’ll be home any minute. “A screwdriver. You got it. John.” Carl turned to go into the kitchen, but the guest’s voice stopped him. “Stoly, Carl, if you don’t mind.” “We don’t have Stoly. We have Smirnoff.” Carl tried to make the words sound informative, but was irritated to hear them emerge defensive. He stood waiting for the guest’s response, and got it. “Okay, big spender.” That did it. Carl crossed to the sofa between the guest and the front hall, and sat heavily. He tried to stare at the man called John, but looked away when the guest regarded him with an amused look. “Look, John,” Carl said quietly, looking at the mauve carpet. “I don’t know you. But. This is my apartment. You’re sitting in my chair. You’re over an hour early for dinner. You’re my wife’s guest, not mine. So please, I don’t know where you come off being so rude, but I ask you, please, don’t try my patience.” Carl risked a glance at the guest. The man’s eyes clouded briefly, but the quick return of the confident expression forced Carl’s eyes back to the floor. “This is your landlord’s apartment, Carl. He’s just letting you pay to borrow it for a while. By the way, were you going to make yourself presentable for dinner? You unemployed or something? Need a couple of bucks?” Did he hear a word I said? How could Rachel invite a man like this to our new home? “I — I guess I want to know why you’re so early.” The guest reversed wingtips on the ottoman. “Carl, I’m a successful asset manager. I know how to pick them. The winners and the losers. I believe in being direct, and I believe that some people have got it and some people haven’t.” He re-examined his fingernails. “You most assuredly haven’t got it, Carl.” Carl had had two bosses speak to him this way in the two years since he’d left the teaching profession in search of more money. He’d allowed them both to get away with it. Not this time. “Get out of my house,” he whispered, staring at a single fuzzy strand of carpet next to his bare right foot. “I thought you wanted to know why I’m early, Carl.” The strand appeared to be moving, ever so slightly. “No. I want you to leave.” “I’m early because I wanted you to know that I plan to acquire your wife.” “You plan to — ” “Certainly. You see, Carl, I know how to pick them. She’s a winner. You’re not. Simple math. It’s not adding up to two, big fellow.” “Get out of my home, before I — before I —” The guest laughed heartily. “Before you throw a box of Frosted Flakes at me? Get real, Carl. You’re nothing. At least, that’s what your wife says. Man, you should hear her talk about it. About how much it sucks to be out there involved with life while you watch ‘I Dream of Jeannie’ and ‘Matlock’ and feel up your computer every day. And so soon after you’ve moved into this drab little apartment.” Carl leaped to his feet. “I have a job! An important job!” The guest remained comfortable in the red leather chair. “Sit down, Carl.”


Carl wavered, caught — as he so often was these days — between what he wanted to do and what he would do. He returned to his seat. “Carl, you’ve been married what, two years? Your wife tells me you’re lousy in bed, have no ambition, and she married you because she thought she’d never meet a man like me. Biological clock and all that crap. Most women I’ve known are in the same boat as your wife, except they married to gain access to resources, big fellow. Resources for them and their kids. So they stay with their husbands, and play happy house for their friends and their alumni magazines. But not your wife. She didn’t marry you for resources, Carl. So you’re smack out of luck. You don’t have access to offer your wife, Carl. Or ambition. Or energy. Or passion. So, you can give her to me.” Carl summoned the courage he thought he needed to defend himself. “If I had a gun, I swear I’d kill you,” he breathed. “If you had a gun, I swear you’d stick the barrel in your mouth.” An ache spread in Carl’s throat, and he fought the tears that would embarrass him in front of this monster. “Rachel would never say those things,” he rasped. “Never.” “She would, and she did. Just this morning, as a matter of fact. How about that fancy screwdriver, big fellow?” “She’ll — she’ll be here any minute now. We’ll ask her. She knows my new job has possibilities. And I don’t watch television all day. And we, we love each other. A lot. So you’re not so smart. If — if you don’t leave now, I’ll have you arrested.” “Mind telling me what law I’m breaking, big fellow?” Where is she? Why did she let him come here ahead of her? She must’ve gotten tied down at work. Unless — The guest rose and crossed the living room to the balcony door. He opened the vertical blinds to reveal the last shades of dusky gray gasping for air as night pressed its weight down upon the day. “Carl, the reason I’ll succeed in acquiring your wife,” the man said as he turned from the glass doors, “is that I am in possession of something that is not exactly one of your, ah, assets.” “Please. I don’t want to hear your — ” “Passion, big fellow. That’s what she’ll see in me that she doesn’t see in you. Passion for all that interests me. I don’t live my life through a computer screen, Carl. I don’t entertain myself or others with a television set. I possess both. They don’t possess me. And I will possess your wife, because I have the resource to which she wants access. She’s better than all the other women I’ve known, Carl, because the resource she wants from a man is passion ...” The guest took a step toward Carl. “Passion for all that interests me, Carl. I don’t hide anything. I think you see that already. And it’s why you already know you will lose her to me.” The guest’s face was inches from Carl’s. “Now get me that screwdriver before I passionately beat you to a pathetic pulp.” Carl, tears streaming down his cheeks, the churns of self-pity alive in his gut, turned and retreated toward the kitchen. She would be here soon. As he opened the cabinet which housed the liquor, he looked out toward the living room. His eye was drawn by movement, past the furniture, past the visitor who rocked cockily on his feet with his hands in his pockets. The movement was, from this distance, a mangle of colors that changed every second or two, seemingly for no reason at all. As his right hand closed on the bottle of vodka, his wet eyes focused more

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clearly on the constantly shifting images coming from the far corner of the living room. The more the images shifted, the more the churning in Carl’s gut turned to rage. He had never turned off the television set. Suddenly the ludicrousness of his life pointed a forefinger at him. It poked him in the chest, like a bully in a schoolyard. Carl set his jaw. He examined the bottle in his hand. The rage climbed out of his gut and into his arms and legs as he rushed madly toward the guest, charged past him, surprised him with his decisiveness, and smashed the vodka bottle into the television screen, obliterating the blather of a news show into countless pieces of dark glass. Turning, he faced John Smith. Drool ran from the left corner of Carl’s mouth, but he did not care. Smith focused on the drool, and put his hands up in self-defense. Carl advanced toward the guest, the reek of vodka filling the room, his right hand holding high the shattered bottle. He would kill this man, just as he’d killed the television set and the morons who lived in it. He would end this man who had come into his home and been so, so, ... so insightful. Carl stopped. He saw the fear in the man’s eyes, but saw something else, something which didn’t fit. It was pleasure. But no longer mocking, or cocky. Just pleased. Frightened and pleased. “Get out of my home. Now. There’s no supper for you here.” The guest wasted no time in retrieving his trenchcoat from the dining table. As he put the coat on and advanced toward the front door, the guest turned and faced Carl. “I’ll find my supper somewhere else, big fellow.” And the guest exited quietly. Carl, exhilarated and strangely clear-headed, returned to the kitchen and carefully laid the bottle remnant on the counter next to the microwave. His heart raced as he returned to the living room and sat confidently in his red leather chair. As he cooled off in the silence, he remembered, fondly, the first months with Rachel, nearly three years ago. The year before the wedding. The year before the career change. The constant, gorgeous music. The slow dances before bed. Touch football Sunday mornings in the park with strangers and friends alike. Weekend drives to the beach, where they played putt-putt at low tide, digging holes with their hands for a nine-hole course. They had passed books between each other. Classics, thrillers, spy novels, short stories, poetry ... and always the music. They had made love to Santana’s “Europa”, and Stan Getz’s “Keep Me in Your Heart,” seldom forgetting Pat Metheny’s “The Truth Will Always Be.” Each time was exquisitely unlike any other as they celebrated the passing of a day that had never happened before, and the coming of one the world had never seen. Carl wondered where it had gone. He didn’t think, now, sitting here amid the piercing scent of vodka, that any of it had ever gotten old. That first year together, he’d leapt out of bed each morning, the spring staying in his step all day as he taught his classes with a verve which enlivened even the most reticent students. As he remembered, he thought back to when he had taught Richter’s “The Light in the Forest.” Strange that only now did he recall the line from the slave character, Bejance, about any man being a slave if he pulls burdens which mean nothing to the soul inside of him. And he had missed her each day in the best of ways — the kind that says I get to see her again. He rose from the red leather chair and sank back into the sofa

nearest the deceased television set. She liked to sit here. To read here. She still did, while he sat toadlike in front of his computer terminal down the hall in the den, visiting inane websites and other substitutes for real living. When did it begin? He pressed his face against the back cushion, trying to catch her scent, but the vodka’s smell was more powerful and more ... recent. He tried and tried and tried, deep heaving sniffs of air against the cushion, but he just couldn’t quite catch it. Not right here. But he would. If I haven’t lost her.


sound, abrupt like a thud or whack, awakened him. He groggily wiped dried drool from the left corner of his mouth, rose slowly, and looked around him. Much of the light had gone from the room and, though the vertical blinds were drawn over the sliding glass door leading to the balcony, he could tell that evening was falling fast. He entered the kitchen and glanced at the range clock. Six-forty-six. Jesus. Just enough time before — Wait a minute. He could smell her. She was at the door. He was sure of it. Thrilled, he hurried into the living room and turned off the television set, glancing with disdain as he did so at the two nitwits pontificating on some useless idiotic subject that had nothing whatever to do with him. He ran to the front door and flung it open. And there she stood, groceries in both arms. What a beautiful woman she is. “What a beautiful woman you are,” he blurted, and took the groceries from his puzzled wife, who followed him into the kitchen. “Sweetie?” she said as he set the bags down and kissed her. “Are you all right?” “Of course I’m all right. I’ll pick the music tonight, if you don’t mind.” “The music? Why, that’s — that’s fine. But I thought you wanted to watch Idol. It’s Wednesday.” “Not me. I’ll go take a quick shower. Join me?” She looked around her as if she expected someone to jump out and end the joke. “Really?” she said, a smile growing. “Really. In case your friend is early.” She slapped her right palm against her forehead, as if she’d forgotten something. “Oh, my God, Carl, I’m so sorry. I forgot to call you.” “What? What is it, Rae?” “Frank got called away by a client about an hour ago.” She took a playful step forward and began unbuttoning Carl’s shirt. “Is that so?” Carl asked as he cupped her hands lightly while they did their deft work. “That’s so, big fellow,” she said, kissing his chest as she pulled the shirt away. “He asked for a raincheck. Said he’ll find his supper somewhere else.” Carl laughed softly at the man’s obvious inability to separate the good things in life from the mundane. He scooped his wife into the air and down the hall, wondering on the way whether perhaps they shouldn’t step out to Jordy’s later for Stoly screwdrivers and some swing. PS

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The Way We Were… Broadhearth, untouched by time, bears witness By Deborah Salomon Photographs By John Gessner


here she stands: stately, solitary, elegant, intact — perfectly groomed and attired in the fashions of her times, as though waiting to gather in friends and family once again. Broadhearth is her name, a continuance of homes commissioned by Michigan industrialist George Jenks, designed by architect Alfred Yeomans, completed during the Great Depression, and since occupied by five generations of mercantile and banking notables. Geoff Cutler, a Southern Pines arborist, represents the fourth generation. “My great-grandfather (George Jenks) had experience building houses. He told Yeomans exactly what he wanted and he got it, down to the last penny. Broadhearth doesn’t look anything like Yeomans’ other houses in the area.” It is, nevertheless, constructed on the grand scale of an era when society’s A-list kept October-to-May residences in Moore County. Broadhearth, with 10 bedrooms and nine bathrooms, is broad, tall, brick (except for the stuccoed servants’ wing), roofed in slate and surrounded by park-like grounds dotted with 60-foot pines. One with a turpentine slash may be several hundred years old, Cutler estimates. Interior woodwork is native pine stained dark. But the layout


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The long facade, old brick, casement windows and park-like grounds, designed by Alfred Yeomans, speak of a lifestyle that made Southern Pines a winter destination in the 1930s. PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012 67

Except for new upholstery, Broadhearth’s formal living room is exactly as Brigit Jenks left it to daughter Judith Ilsley.


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Living room mantel carved by an unknown artist, with N.C. symbols: cardinal and dogwood.

is puzzling. Why the small bedroom off the formal living room? Why does the master suite have two adjoining chambers? Did the staff take meals in the tiny room behind the kitchen? Why is there no dining room chandelier? Why hasn’t the kitchen been glamorized, or central air-conditioning installed? Most of all, where are the priceless antiques, the silver, the pouf draperies and luxurious carpets selected by interior designers? You have to understand these people, Cutler explains. “They cared about books and conversation, cigars and politics. My mother was no interior decorator. This house was built for comfort.” The Jenks/Ilsley/Cutler genealogy is a maze of enough step-siblings and cousins, steel barons, financiers, mill owners and philanthropists to give ancestry.com pause. Joseph Jenks, an English foundry operator, was invited by Massachusetts Bay Colony Governor Winthrop to open an iron foundry. The year: 1643. A decade later, dies for the first Colonial silver coin were cast at Saugus Foundry, which also built the Colonies’ first fire engine. Newly successful Joseph Jenks built his Broadhearth there, to house his family. The generations continued to prosper. By 1890 descendant George Jenks, to outrun the competition, turned from milling flour to milling wheat starch required by cotton manufacturers as a fabric finish. This Jenks possessed social conscience. “The mill was the whole town. My great-grandfather took care of his workers,” Geoff Cutler says. George loved golf. He and his wife — an audacious, opinionated lady who smoked cigars and changed her name from Bertha to Brigit — heard about the Tufts’ development in a climate favorable to children with respiratory illnesses, like their son. The family traveled to Pinehurst and, in 1912, built a cottage on Village Green named White Shingles, followed, around 1929, by the much grander Broadhearth, styled after a resort Jenks had built in Michigan. Labor was cheap. However, George Jenks paid his workers double the going rate.

From Brigit Jenks’ diary, January, 1934: Our new home in Southern Pines — Broadhearth, after the first house built by a Jenks in America — turned into a pleasant surprise … the view is superb. Brigit Jenks, and later her daughter and granddaughter, were known as ultra-immaculate, perfectionist chatelaines. Or, as Geoff says, “You could lick the garage floor.” But Broadhearth, for all its beauty, was never a fulltime residence. The family floated in and out from October until May. Eventually, the estate became synonymous with Lloyd (a granddaughter) and Donald Cutler and their blended family of eight children. Judith Jenks Ilsley, Brigit and George’s daughter and Lloyd Cutler’s mother, remained in residence during the winter season.


ears of family involvements have altered Broadhearth hardly a whit. Dark woodwork, sedate furnishings and a reversed staircase with upper gallery give the foyer a medieval look continued in the dining room, with beams but no chandelier. Geoff Cutler recalls the fireplace, sconces and candles provided light and warmth aplenty for meals served by the cook at the long monastery table. The spacious kitchen, with its original six-burner double-oven electric stove and ceramic tile backsplash, could be the “before” photo in a remodeling magazine — although anything more modern would appear anachronistic. Behind the kitchen, the maid’s off-duty room became a den, where Lloyd and Donald Cutler watched the only TV. The living room is large and bright, with several conversation areas, a grand piano covered with family photos, built-in bookshelves and a stunning fireplace carved with North Carolina dogwood and cardinals. Sofas and chairs have been reupholstered in flowery pastels, but no table or lamp

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Brigit Jenks’ initialed mirror and brush still lay on the dressing table in the master suite, done in 1950sstyle pastels and chintzes, with family portraits.


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An intercom called servants when needed.

The informal guest rooms have names: the Boston Room, Onnie’s Room (named for the Jenkses’ full-time nurse), Melissa’s Room (for a granddaughter) and Chauffeur Frank’s Room.

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The dining room came alive when the extended Jenks-Ilsley-Cutler clan gathered for holiday celebrations.

has changed position since Judith Jenks Ilsley presided. Here hangs her portrait, serene and perfect, opposite daughter Lloyd’s as a young woman. Interior designer Mary Gozzi has done some work at Broadhearth — and attended receptions there: “You really don’t need to decorate that house because its architecture is so good. There’s nothing showy or garish, just the subtlety of a warm, welcoming home.” Geoff Cutler notes that his great-grandparents slept in separate-butadjoining bedrooms, hers slightly larger. Brigit Jenks’ initialed hand mirror still lies on the dressing table. Brigit Jenks’ diary, Dec. 1947: Tonight George came in to kiss me good night and I laughed because he looked so much as if he thought it was his duty — much as he disliked it. I think I hurt his feelings … I don’t suppose he knows how my very life is bound up in him and what it would mean to me to think he cared about me. The informal guest rooms have names. The Boston Room, Onnie’s Room (named for the Jenkses’ full-time nurse), Melissa’s Room (for a granddaughter) and Chauffeur Frank’s Room. Most charming are rooms in the servants’ quarters, now furnished for grandchildren, with twin beds, slipper chairs, chintz, chenille and a private exit which, Geoff Cutler says, provided late-night entry — no one the wiser. The mismatch hangs together beautifully. Bathrooms are as they were. To Cutler’s knowledge, almost all the furniture is original, of unknown provenance. A servants’ call box hangs on the wall with buzzers for Man’s Room and Main Hall. The Jenkses-Ilsleys employed a staff of five or six. Several lived in. From Brigit Jenks’diary, October, 1939: Southern Pines seems so very far away


from all my dear ones … We expect, if I am strong enough, to leave for New York where we will stay until Anna, Frank, Elizabeth and Frieda, the family friends and — how I hate the word — servants get Broadhearth ready for us. Broadhearth’s semi-circular veranda and magnificent grounds covered with rye grass beg ladies wearing wide-brimmed hats and chemise dresses, nibbling canapés and sipping cocktails or discussing F. Scott Fitzgerald’s just-published Tender is the Night. Or, perhaps Brigit describing her encounter with George Bernard Shaw. Or grandchildren hunting Easter eggs. Geoff Cutler loves that grass. “I remember getting off the train from Boston, in April — how warm and green everything was. The whole front area was rye grass. The first thing we did was come out and sit on the grass and listen to the pines whispering,” he says. “This house just reeks of George Jenks. I never knew him but I feel a lot of my great-grandfather in me.” The pines still whisper but the house on a ridge overlooking Highland Road is silent. Brigit Jenks died at Broadhearth in January 1957. Her daughter Judith Jenks Ilsley occupied the manse until her death at Broadhearth in 1982. Lloyd Ilsley Cutler now resides full-time in Boston. But the old brick lady lives on, as is. Cousins came down at Christmas. Geoff Cutler passes by often. And caretaker (of 30 years) Robert Scarboro tends to every detail, inside and out. From Brigit Jenks’ diary, March, 1954: Our generation and our time is fast fading out of the picture of eternity. What we have meant, we shall never know. PS

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Butler’s pantry (above) and kitchen stove (right) stand relics to the entertaining that took place in this grand house.

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There are two seasonal diversions that can ease the bite of any winter. One is the January thaw. The other is the seed catalogs. By noah salt

The View From Here Midwinter is a splendid time for star-gazing, offering among the brightest stars and clearest skies of the year. The bright winter stars of Orion act as your guidepost, quite visible looking south about two hours after sunset. As it has all autumn, Jupiter continues to dominate that same southern perspective, setting by about 9 p.m. most nights. If you’re up early and have a decent telescope, Saturn, Venus and Mercury are all quite visible in the east.

A Song For January “And as I gaze at winter stars / The second house conjuncts with Mars They would suggest that we’ll be one / I have my doubts, you see If I maintain a skeptic’s eye / And train the other on the sky I’d eat my hat if it came true / I’d probably eat yours too If January stars came true” From “January Stars” by Sting

The Midwinter Garden Oh, how we love the humble nandina, sometimes called the “Bamboo of Heaven” for its delicate evergreen leaves that turn scarlet with the deepest arriving cold and produce epaulets of red and festive berries. Nandina, a species of the barberry family native to Asia, was among the first ornamental shrubs introduced to the western garden around 1800. Here in the South, where the commonplace shrub is actually listed as an invasive species, almost every home of a certain vintage used nandina to provide color to the winter landscape. Among flowering winter plants, hellebores, a vast genus of remarkable cold-hardy five-pedaled flowers that include the so-called “Christmas Rose,” are stars of the winter garden, though snowdrops, reticulated iris, and Grecian windflowers put forth durable blooms on the drabbest of days. Among shrubs, camellias dominate, boasting more than 250 species alone, with weeping winter jasmine and flowering quince also high on our list.

In Cold And Ancient Of Days On the Old English calendar, on or about January 17 or “Twelth Night” was considered the proper time for “wassailing” one’s apple trees to encourage them to bear a good crop in the coming year. Across southern parts of England, festive parties gathered in orchards to sing to the trees, toast their good health, and pour buckets of hot cider over their roots. Cider-soaked bread was placed in trees to feed the guardian birds, and guns and explosive implements were fired into the air to chase away unkindly spirits. On the modern calendar, however, January 5 is traditional “Twelfth Night,” marked by an evening of merrymaking to celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany and the end of the Lord of Misrule’s reign. Order is restored and prayers are offered for the benefit of the new year. In Colonial America, wreaths were traditionally taken down and unspoiled portions consumed at a special feast. On St. Agnes Day, January 21, though the nights remain dark, the sun enters the House of Aquarius and the days become noticeably longer. “To bedward be you merry, or have merry company about you, so that to bedward no heaviness or anger do disquiet you.” The Dietary of Health, 1547

To Do List With the landscape swept bare and nature at rest, this is the time to look more closely at your garden and surrounding spaces and plan new projects for spring. Remember that a garden is a place of retreat, with a spiritual purpose as old as man’s time on Earth. Look closely at what works and doesn’t work in your current garden. A few basics on the list: • Live Christmas trees and other container plants may be safely planted. • Remove dead limbs from woody plants but prune judiciously. • Sharpen tools, remove clutter, and spread a new layer of winter mulch. • Remember all gardens start in the soil of the imagination. Gather new ideas from arriving seed catalogs. One of our favorites this year is the Baker Creek Heirloom Seed catalog, available at www.rareseeds.com.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � January 2012 75






1 2 3 4 5 8 9 10 11 12 15 16 17 18 19 22 23 24 25 26 NEW YEAR’S DAY OLD GROWTH HIKE. 10 a.m. & 2 p.m.





ART CLASS. 10 a.m. - 3 p.m.




ART CLASS. 9 a.m. - 3 p.m. MET OPERA ENCORE. 1 - 5:20 p.m. CHILDREN’S STORY TIME. 1:30 p.m.




ART CLASS. 10 a.m. - 3 p.m.







6 13 20 27

METOPERA ENCORE.12:30-4:45p.m. LUNCH & LEARN. 12:30 - 1:30 p.m. CHILDREN’S STORY TIME. 1:30 p.m. PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 - 4 p.m.





ART CLASS. 9 a.m. - 4 p.m.


ART CLASS. 9 a.m. - 4 p.m.


29 30 31 FREE YOGA FOR PST VETS. 6 p.m.




ART CLASS. 10 a.m. - 4 p.m.


TEMPLE THEATRE: Country Royalty. JUDSON THEATRE COMPANY. Presenting Love Letters.


JUDSON THEATRE COMPANY. Presenting Tuesdays with Morrie.



Arts & Entertainment Calendar January 1


7 14

TEMPLE THEATRE PRODUCTION: Country Royalty. SENIOR ACTIVITY. 10:30 a.m. - 3:30 p.m


21 28


January 5

NEW YEAR’S DAY OLD GROWTH HIKE. 10 a.m. & 2 p.m. Celebrate the New Year while exploring the old growth longleaf pine forest at the Boyd Timber Tract. Rain or shine. Meet at Weymouth Woods Visitor Center, 1024 Ft. Bragg Rd., Southern Pines. Info/RSVP: (910) 692-2167.

January 2 SENIOR ACTIVITY. 2 p.m. Trivia Day. Trivia related to the 1920s and 1930s. Light refreshments will be served; winner receives a prize. Cost: $2/residents; $4/ non-residents. Douglas Community Center, 1185 W. Pennsylvania Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-7376.

January 3 FREE YOGA FOR PST VETS. 6 p.m. Yoga for retired veterans who suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. No previous yoga experience necessary. Yoga Massage in the Sandhills, 5374 Niagara Carthage Rd., Southern Pines. Info: Mary Ann at (910) 949-2162. CHORAL SOCIETY OPEN REGISTRATION. 6:30 p.m. The Moore County Choral Society invites all singers interested in joining their spring performance featuring Mozart’s “Requiem.” Rehearsal follows registration. Brownson Memorial Presbyterian Church, 330 S. May St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8306 or www. moorecountychoralsociety.org. CURRY HOUSE TUESDAY AT THE SLY FOX. Five Tuesdays in January give you five opportunities to enjoy fabulous Curries while earning points at Sly Fox’s sister restaurants. Sly Fox Pub, 795 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1621.

January 3 & 4 BYOB AT RUE 32. Bring the best you’ve got. Corkage fees will be waived. Rue 32 Restaurant, 290 W. Pennsylvania Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1910 or www.ruethirtytwo.com.

January 4

GATHERING AT GIVEN. 3:30 p.m. Audrey Moriarty, Executive Director of the Given Memorial Library and Tufts Archives, will share little known facts of Pinehurst’s past. Given Memorial Library, 150 Cherokee Rd., Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-6022.

January 6 ART EXHIBIT & OPENING RECEPTION. 6 - 8 p.m. Boots and Britches, featuring sculpture, painting and jewelry by Dedi Mcham and Michele Garrett Laster. Exhibit on display through January 27 (Weekdays, 9 a.m. - 5 p.m). Campbell House Galleries, 482 E. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-2787.

January 8 SUNDAY AFTERNOON MOVIE. 2:30 p.m. Based on the classic book by A. A. Milne, this all-new movie version reunites audiences with the “bear of very little brain” and friends Tigger, Rabbit, Piglet, Owl, Kanga, Roo, and Eyeore. Kids in grades K-2 and their parents are welcome. Refreshments will be served at this free event. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

January 9 PALUSTRIS DEADLINE. Final day to submit events for the 2012 Palustris Festival on March 22-25, 2012. Info: www.palustrisfestival.com.

January 10 SENIOR ACTIVITY. 11:30 a.m. Milk Day. Celebrate the day milk was first delivered in bottles 134 years ago. Sample various types of milk, add your favorite flavors, and have desserts along with it. Register by Jan. 2. Cost: $2/residents; $4/non-residents. Douglas Community Center, 1185 W. Pennsylvania Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-7376.

MET OPERA ENCORE. 12:30 - 4:45 p.m. Handel’s Rodelinda in HD. Two intermissions. Tickets: $25. Sunrise Theater, 250 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8501.

PIZZA WITH PIZZAZZ. 5 - 6 p.m. Game Night for kids in grades 6-8. Play Xbox with your friends while enjoying free pizza. BYBG (Bring Your Own Games), as long as they are “E” or “T” rated. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

LUNCH & LEARN. 12:30 - 1:30 p.m. Learn about Dermal Injectables with Dr. Melley. Complimentary lunch, goodie bag and gift with purchase. 80 Aviemore Court, Pinehurst. Info/RSVP: (910) 295-1130 or pinehurstlaser.com

FREE YOGA FOR PST VETS. 6 p.m. Yoga for retired veterans who suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. No previous yoga experience necessary. Yoga Massage in the Sandhills, 5374 Niagara Carthage Rd., Southern Pines. Info: Mary Ann at (910) 949-2162.

CHILDREN’S STORY TIME. 1:30 p.m. The Given Memorial Library, 150 Cherokee Rd., Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-6022.

CURRY HOUSE TUESDAY AT THE SLY FOX. Five Tuesdays in January give you five opportunities to enjoy fabulous Curries while earning points at Sly Fox’s sister restaurants. Sly Fox Pub, 795 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1621.

PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 - 4 p.m. Bring infants and toddlers (ages birth through 5 years) for stories, songs and fun. Playtime follows. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

Key: Art




January 11 ART CLASS. 9 a.m. - 3 p.m. Point-of-view City Drawing with JJ Love. Learn how to draw a city from a bird’s eye view, from a distance at eye level, and worm’s perspective.





PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012


CA L E N DA R Take away three drawings, and a set of drawing skills that will improve all your art. Cost: $50. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979. MET OPERA ENCORE. 1 - 5:20 p.m. Gounod’s Faust. A classic retelling of the Faust legend. Two intermissions. Tickets: $25. Sunrise Theater, 250 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8501. CHILDREN’S STORY TIME. 1:30 p.m. The Given Memorial Library, 150 Cherokee Rd., Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-6022. PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 - 4 p.m. Bring infants and toddlers (ages birth through 5 years) for stories, songs and fun. Playtime follows. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 6928235 or www.sppl.net. ENGLISH SPEAKING UNION. 6 p.m. Featuring guest speaker George Poteat. Country Club of North Carolina, Pinehurst. Membership/Reservations/Info: (910) 235-0635 or bmoc@embarqmail.com.

January 16

TEMPLE THEATRE PRODUCTION. Country Royalty by Jason Petty and Carolyn Martin. Hank Williams and Patsy Cline were the two biggest names country music has ever seen. Along with a live 5-piece band, Jason and Carolyn will take you back in time to when these country giants ruled the airwaves. All of their biggest hits are covered: Crazy, Hey Good Lookin’, Your Cheatin’ Heart, Walking After Midnight, I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry and many more. Temple Theatre, 120 Carthage St., Sanford. Info: (919) 774-4155 or www.templeshows.com.

ART CLASS. 10 a.m. - 3 p.m. Follow the Leader with Joan Williams. Cost: $70. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979.

January 14 SENIOR ACTIVITY. 10:30 a.m. - 3:30 p.m. Travel to Chatham County to tour Celebrity Dairy and learn how their Alpine and Saanen goat milk is transformed into fresh goat cheese or chèvre. Cost: $25/residents; $50/non-residents (includes transportation and lunch tour). Register by Jan. 5. Depart from Campbell House parking lot, 482 E. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-7376.

January 15

January 12 OLDIES & GOODIES FILM SERIES. 2:30 - 4:30 p.m. Enjoy a classic 1938 film starring Margaret Lockwood and Michael Redgrave while enjoying a hot cup of tea. Suspense thriller directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net. Key: Art

January 12 - 29




THE ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT SERIES. 6:45 p.m. Live music from Harpeth Rising. A blend of bluegrass and folk from a band of classically trained musicians. Doors open at 6 p.m. Poplar Knight Spot, 114 Knight Street, Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-7502 or www. theroosterswife.org.




January 17 LEAGUE OF WOMEN VOTERS LUNCHEON. 11:30 a.m. Former Robbins Mayor Theron Bell will discuss the history and future of Robbins. Cost: $12. Reserve seat by January 13. Table on the Green, Midland Country Club, Pinehurst. Info/RSVP: Charlotte Gallagher at (910) 944-9611. MOORE COUNTY LITERACY COUNCIL VOLUNTEER ORIENTATION. 1 - 4 p.m. An hour and a half of tutoring can make an amazing difference in a person’s life. Learn how you can help adult students improve their literacy skills. Sandhills Coalition, 1500 W Indiana Ave, Southern Pines. Info: Pam at (910) 6925954 or pammclc@nc.rr.com. FREE YOGA FOR PST VETS. 6 p.m. Yoga for retired veterans who suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. No previous yoga experience necessary. Yoga Massage in the Sandhills, 5374 Niagara Carthage Rd., Southern Pines. Info: Mary Ann at (910) 949-2162. CURRY HOUSE TUESDAY AT THE SLY FOX. Five Tuesdays in January give you five opportunities to enjoy fabulous Curries while earning points at Sly Fox’s sister restaurants. Sly Fox Pub, 795 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1621.


NEED PROPANE FOR HOME, BUSINESS, OR THE FARM? WE HAVE YOU COVERED. Demand more from your propane company. We have the PRICE YOU WANT with the GREAT SERVICE YOU DESERVE. • Home heating • Forklift cylinders

• Autogas • Blue Rhino tank exchange



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January 2012 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


January 17 & 19 ART CLASS. 10 a.m. - 3:30 p.m. Drawing Prep for Still Life Painting with Barbara Sickenberger. Select subject matter, set up an interesting arrangement, learn how to block in shapes, define a value system and become a keener observer. Cost: $90. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979.

January 18 ART CLASS. 10 a.m. - 3 p.m. Digital Art: Brushes, Brushes Everywhere But Not a Drop of Paint with JJ Love. Learn how to manipulate digital brushes to create any brush stroke imaginable, and create your own brushes to be used for painting or stamping. All students must have their own laptop and a copy of Adobe Photoshop Elements (minimum), which can be downloaded from adobe.com for a free 30-day trial. Cost: $40. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979. CHILDREN’S STORY TIME. 1:30 p.m. The Given Memorial Library, 150 Cherokee Rd., Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-6022. LIBRARY TEEN ADVISORY BOARD MEETING. 6 p.m. First meeting of the year; new members are welcome. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net. PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 - 4 p.m. Bring infants and toddlers (ages birth through 5 years) for stories, songs and fun. Playtime follows. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 6928235 or www.sppl.net.

January 19 - 22 JUDSON THEATRE COMPANY. Presenting Love Letters, a romantic comedy by A.R. Gurney starring Joyce DeWitt and Tab Hunter. Tickets: $36 (subject to change). Owens Auditorium, Sandhills Community College. Times/Info: www.judsontheatre.com.

January 19 - February 5 CAPE FEAR REGIONAL THEATRE. Presenting Encore! 50 Years, which features musical performances highlighting 50 years of Cape Fear Regional Theatre in celebration of its golden anniversary. 1209 Hay St., Fayetteville. Info: (910) 323-4233 or www.cfrt.org.

January 21 ART CLASS. 10 a.m. - 3 p.m. Intermediate Chinese Brush Painting: The Lotus the Kingfisher and Koi with Loretta Moskal. Cost: $40 plus $5 supply fee. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979. THE MET AT THE SUNRISE. 1 p.m. The Enchanted Island. Inspired by the musical pastiches and masques of the 18th century, the Met presents an original Baroque fantasy featuring a who’s who of Baroque stars. Directed and designed by Phelim McDermott and Julian Crouch. The Sunrise Theater, 250 NW Broad Street, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8501 or www. sunrisetheater.com. NATIONAL SQUIRREL APPRECIATION DAY. 1 - 3 p.m. Celebrate National Squirrel Appreciation Day with crafts, wildlife tips and knowledge, and special Key: Art




guest appearances. Free event. Aberdeen Parks & Recreation Dept., corner of Route 1 and W. Maple Ave.

January 22 THE ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT SERIES. 6:45 p.m. Live Celtic music from master fiddler Javie Laval and his band. Doors open at 6 p.m. Poplar Knight Spot, 114 Knight Street, Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-7502 or www.theroosterswife.org.

January 23 RHONE VALLEY WINE DINNER AT RUE 32. 6:30 p.m. Five of our favorite Rhone Valley wines expertly paired with five phenomenal courses. Cost: $75/ person. Reservations only. Rue 32 Restaurant, 290 W. Pennsylvania Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1910 or www.ruethirtytwo.com.

January 23 & 30 ART CLASS. 9 a.m. - 4 p.m. Creating With Oils: Beginning Oil Painting with Diane Kraudelt. Cost: $120 plus $28 supply fee. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979.

January 24 MOORE COUNTY LITERACY COUNCIL TUTOR TRAINING. 1 - 4 p.m. Learn how you can help adult students improve their literacy skills. Sandhills Coalition, 1500 W Indiana Ave, Southern Pines. Info: Pam at (910) 692-5954 or pammclc@nc.rr.com. COLLEGE FOUNDATION OF NORTH CAROLINA (CFNC) MEETING. 5:30 p.m. Ms. April Morey, a CFNC representative, will meet parents and prospective students of all ages to talk about funding a college education. Ms. Morey will have information on scholarships, grants, loans, work-study, FAFSA and NC 529 plans. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net. FREE YOGA FOR PST VETS. 6 p.m. Yoga for retired veterans who suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. No previous yoga experience necessary. Yoga Massage in the Sandhills, 5374 Niagara Carthage Rd., Southern Pines. Info: Mary Ann at (910) 949-2162. CURRY HOUSE TUESDAY AT THE SLY FOX. Five Tuesdays in January give you five opportunities to enjoy fabulous Curries while earning points at Sly Fox’s sister restaurants. Sly Fox Pub, 795 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1621. NIGHT WITH THE BEATLES AT THE SLY FOX. 7 p.m. Andy and Joe Heisinger present Beatles classics. Sly Fox Pub, 795 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1621.

January 25 ART CLASS. 10 a.m. - 4 p.m. Introduction To Colored Pencil with Betty Hendrix. Learn basic application techniques and create a simple piece in class. Cost: $50 plus $5 supply fee. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979. CHILDREN’S STORY TIME. 1:30 p.m. The Given Memorial Library, 150 Cherokee Rd., Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-6022. Literature/Speakers




PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012


CA L E N DA R PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 - 4 p.m. Bring infants and toddlers (ages birth through 5 years) for stories, songs and fun. Playtime follows. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 6928235 or www.sppl.net.

January 26 - 29 JUDSON THEATRE COMPANY. Presenting Tuesdays with Morrie, starring Jamie Farr. Owens Auditorium, Sandhills Community College. Tickets: $36 (subject to change). Times/Info: www.judsontheatre.com.

January 27 ART CLASS. 9 a.m. - 12 p.m. & 1 - 4 p.m. Alcohol Ink Dreamscaping with June Rollins. A highly unpredictable but extremely forgiving, unconventional medium that has the look of stained glass. Suitable for beginners. Cost: $30 plus $5 supply fee. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979.

January 27-29 SANDHILLS EMERGENCY SERVICES SEMINAR. Held on the campus of Sandhills Community College in Pinehurst and at the new Larry R. Caddell Public Safety Training Center in Carthage, this weekend of workshops and activities promises to provide participants with an opportunity to strengthen existing skills, to learn new techniques and methods and to participate in sessions that are interactive and dynamic. Information: www.sandhills.edu/coned/ public-services/fire-seminar.

January 28 LIVE CONCERT: Raising the Roof. 7 p.m. Featuring The April Fools Band. Sunrise Theater, 250 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-3611 or www.sunrisetheater.com.

January 29 DANCING WITH THE SANDHILLS STARS. 5 p.m. (Cocktails); 5:45 p.m (Dinner); 7 p.m. (Show). Local community leaders will compete for your vote on the dance floor to raise awareness of mentoring and the impact it has on helping children reach their potential and become successful in school and life. Dress in festive party attire. The Grand Ballroom, Carolina Hotel, Pinehurst. Info/RSVP: Cynthia at (910) 295-1072 or www.sandhillsstars.com.

FREE YOGA FOR PST VETS. 6 p.m. Yoga for retired veterans who suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. No previous yoga experience necessary. Yoga Massage in the Sandhills, 5374 Niagara Carthage Rd., Southern Pines. Info: Mary Ann at (910) 949-2162. CURRY HOUSE TUESDAY AT THE SLY FOX. Five Tuesdays in January give you five opportunities to enjoy fabulous Curries while earning points at Sly Fox’s sister restaurants. Sly Fox Pub, 795 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1621. TRIVIA NIGHT AT THE SLY FOX. Bring your “A” game. Sly Fox Pub, 795 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1621. CLASSIC MOVIE NIGHT. 6 p.m. Featuring Roman Holiday (1953). Starring Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn. Free event; refreshments available. The Fair Barn, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-0166.

February 1 ART CLASS. 10 a.m. - 4 p.m. Introduction To Soft Pastel with Betty Hendrix. pastels. Learn the basics of application techniques and create a simple piece in class from life or from a photo of your own choosing. Cost: $50 plus $5 supply fee. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979. ART CLASS. 6 - 9 p.m. Painting the Human Form Abstractly with JJ Love. Learn to paint quickly and abstractly from life in this short pose class. Students will paint a live nude model, for a series of three to four paintings, increasing the abstraction and composition each time. Is a great stand alone class or as a precursor for Cubist Form Painting. Any paint media welcome. Cost: $30 plus $7.50 model fee. Artists League of the Sandhills, 129 Exchange St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-3979.

Art Galleries BROADHURST GALLERY, 2212 Midland Rd., Pinehurst, showcases works by nationally recognized artists such as Louis St. Lewis, Lula Smith, Shawn Morin, Rachel Clearfield, Judy Cox and Jason Craighead. Meetthe-artist opportunities are available. Tuesday-Friday, 11 a.m. - 5 p.m., and Saturday, 1-4 p.m. (910) 295-4817, www.broadhurstgallery.com.

THE ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT SERIES. 6:45 p.m. Live music from Malcomb Holcombe. Experience blues in motion. Doors open at 6 p.m. Poplar Knight Spot, 114 Knight Street, Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-7502 or www.theroosterswife.org.

ART NUTZ AND RAVEN POTTERY, 125 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Come see the potter at work. Features art, local pottery from many potters, handmade jewelry, glass and more. Monday-Saturday 10 a.m. - 5 p.m. (910) 695-1555, www.ravenpottery.com.

January 31

ARTIST ALLEY features juried art and fine crafts from local and regional artists, 167 E. New Hampshire Ave., Southern Pines. 11 a.m. - 5 p.m., Monday-Saturday. (910) 692-6077.

SANDHILLS WOMAN’S EXCHANGE REOPENING. 10 a.m. Sales room open Tuesday through Saturday from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m.; lunch room open from 11:30 to 2 p.m. Sandhills Woman’s Exchange Cabin, 15 Azalea Rd., Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-4677. MOORE COUNTY LITERACY COUNCIL TUTOR TRAINING. 1 - 4 p.m. Learn how you can help adult students improve their literacy skills. Sandhills Key:


Coalition, 1500 W Indiana Ave, Southern Pines. Info: Pam at (910) 692-5954 or pammclc@nc.rr.com.





ARTISTS LEAGUE OF THE SANDHILLS, located at 129 Exchange St. in historic Aberdeen. Exhibit hours are noon - 3 p.m., Monday-Saturday. (910) 944-3979. THE CAMPBELL HOUSE GALLERIES, 482 E. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines, is open 9 a.m. - 5 p.m., Literature/Speakers




January 2012 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

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PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012


CA L E N DA R Monday-Friday, and every third weekend of the month from 2-4 p.m. (910) 692-4356, www.mooreart.org. THE GALLERY AT SEVEN LAKES, a gallery dedicated to local artists. The Gallery is open on Wednesday and Thursday each week from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m. 1145 Seven Lakes Drive, The St. Mary Magdalen building. Just 9 miles from the Pinehurst Traffic Circle up 211. HASTINGS GALLERY is located in the Katharine L. Boyd Library at Sandhills Community College, Pinehurst. Gallery hours are 7:45 a.m. - 9 p.m., MondayThursday; 7:45 a.m. - 5 p.m. Friday; and 8:30 a.m. - 2 p.m. Saturday.

THE OLD SILK ROUTE, 113 West Main St., Aberdeen specializes in Asian original art, including silk paintings, tapestries, Buddhist Thangkas and Indian paper miniatures. Open Monday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday 11 a.m. - 4 p.m. (910) 295-2055.

Key: Art




STUDIO 590, located in a historic log cabin, is the working studio and gallery of artists Betty DiBartolomeo and Harry Neely. Studio 590 offers fine oil paintings, commissions and instruction. Studio 590 is located by the pond in the Dowd Cabin, 590 Dowd Circle in Pinehurst South. (910) 639-9404. WHITE HILL GALLERY, 407 U.S. 15-501, Carthage, offers a variety of pottery. (910) 947-6100.

HOLLYHOCKS ART GALLERY, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst, features original artwork by local artists Diane Kraudelt, Carol Rotter, Mary Frey, Jean Frost, Morgen Kilbourn and artist/owner Jane Casnellie. Meet the Artists, Saturdays, Noon to 3 p.m. Open MondaySaturday 10:30 a.m. - 9:30 p.m. (910) 255-0665, www. hollyhocksartgallery.com.

SEAGROVE CANDLE COMPANY, 116 N.W. Broad St., Southern Pines, showcases the arts and crafts of the Sandhills and Seagrove area. Open 10 a.m. - 5 p.m., Monday, Wednesday-Saturday. (910) 695-0029.

SKY ART GALLERY, 602 Magnolia Dr., Aberdeen, is open 10 a.m. - 5 p.m. Tuesday-Saturday. (910) 944-9440, www.skyartgallery.com.

THE DOWNTOWN GALLERY (inside Flynne’s Coffee Bar) is located at 115 NE Broad St. in downtown Southern Pines. Ever-changing array of local and regional art, pottery and other handmade items. (910) 693-1999. LADY BEDFORD’S TEA PARLOUR, located at 25 Chinquapin Road in Pinehurst, is featuring local artist Nancy Campbell. Original oil and watercolor paintings are on display inside the tea shop. Open Tuesday - Saturday 8 a.m. - 5 p.m. (910) 255-0100, www.ladybedfords.com.

Nature Centers SANDHILLS HORTICULTURAL GARDENS (32 acres of gardens). The Sandhills Horticultural Gardens are handicapped-accessible. Daylight hours year-round. (910) 695-3882. WEYMOUTH WOODS SANDHILLS NATURE PRESERVE (898 acres). 1024 Ft. Bragg Road, Southern Pines. (910) 692-2167.




VILLAGE ABORETUM. 35 acres of land adjoining the Village Hall on Magnolia Road, Pinehurst. (910) 295-1900.

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. TuesdayFriday. (910) 692-2051.


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P.O. BOX 58 Southern Pines, NC 28388

January 2012 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

CA L E N DA R TUFTS ARCHIVES. 9:30 a.m. - 5 p.m., Monday-Friday, and 9:30 a.m. - 12:30 p.m. Saturday. (910) 295-3642.

SANDHILLS WOMAN’S EXCHANGE LOG CABIN Open 10 a.m. - 3 p.m. (910) 295-4677

UNION STATION. Open 8 a.m. - 5 p.m. Located in downtown Aberdeen. (910) 944-5902.

To add an event, send us an e-mail at pinestraw@thepilot. com by the first of the month prior to the event.

PineNeedler Answers From page 111 D I E T I N G I S I A A D P T C L U H E B O N B O N O U W I S H F U L L E R O D U N S N I E T U T T I S T



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PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012


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

BOUTIQUES Eye Max Optical Boutique Green Gate Gourmet Green Gate Olive Oils The Potpourri Old Sport & Gallery Le Feme Chateau

SALONS & SPAS Local farm freshness and quality served gourmet everyday.

Elaine’s Hairdressers Glam Salon & Spa Taylor David Salon

Visit our website for:

“Culinary Cures Winter Blues”

for the


2011 Winner Best Dish NC 910.215.0775 905 Linden Rd, Pinehurst, NC


RESTAURANTS & INNS Lady Bedford’s Tea Parlour & Gift Shoppe Pine Crest Inn Restaurant & Pub Tenya Japanese Cuisine and Sushi

SERVICES Brenner Real Estate Village of Pinehurst Rentals & Golf

January 2012 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

Marion Gaida, Elizabeth Kimsey, Liz Denman

SandhillSeen A Gift of Family and Friends Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Photographs by Al & Annette Daniels Rosemary and Charles Zuhone, Trudi Porter

Dick and Mary ann McCrary, Richard and Susan Lapato. Barbara and George Dvorozniak

Hester and Leon Petty

Suzanne Daughtridge, Suzy Morgan, Susan and Pat Newell.

Howard and Michele Rockett

Sam and Mary Lynn Carubba

Jack and Diane McCarthy

Richard Ballard, Martha DeVault

DeeDee Forehand, Susan Zanetty, Barbara Cohen

Jim Heiman, Hartley Fitts


BUTLER ASSOCIATES PERSONAL PROPERTY APPRAISALS and ESTATE SERVICES Appraisals: Insurance, Charitable Donations, Equitable Distribution

CHAPEL HILL, NC 919-968-3573

GREENSBORO, NC 336-299-6509



Tree Pruning • Removal Plant Site Consulting Stump Grinding • Shrub Care Tree Conservation for New Home Sites Free Estimates Geoffrey Cutler Fully Insured 910-692-7769 910-690-7657

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 January 2012


SandhillSeen 17th Annual ALS Art Exhibit & Sale Friday, November 11, 2011 Photographs by Al & Annette Daniels

Ethel and Scott Duvall are flanked by Jim and Pat Davis

Peggy Andersen, Francine Smarrelli, Darlind Davis

Betty Hendrix, Caroline Love

Cathy Carter, Michele Kelly, Jennifer Goff, Wanda Warner.

Kathee and Jess Dishner

Michelle Moloney, Robert Ingraham


Joan Williams, Summer Coggins, Billy Bag O’ Donuts, Ellen King.

Jerry and Sue Leary

Addie Johns, Nan Wood, Barbara Sickenberger

Ginger Minichiello, Carol Mulcahy

Neliah Cottam, Michele Kelly

January 2012 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

Dick Webb and Cameron Sadler

SandhillSeen Thanksgiving Day Hunt November 24th, 2011

Photographs by Maureen Clark

David Raley and Mel Wyatt

Mike Russell and Landon Russell

Irene Russell

David Raley Cameron Sadler The Blessing

Mel Wyatt and David Raley

Christine Raley

David Raley, Dick Webb, Mel Wyatt

Excellent Land Investment & Extra-Ordinary Homesite

15 1/2 acres on Morganton Road, Adjoining Lawn & Tennis Club Across Rd for main entrance CCNC Ideal for large domestic development, medical complex or inn. 5,000 sq. ft. of usable buildings. Totally unique property with 2 streams. All Utilities here or available. Not in a town. Will consider fine quality home, not old or expensive, in trade as downpayment, clear, and carry 1st mortgage only for rest. Has a superior investment future Owner (910) 692-7791

Vickie Haddock, Fore Properties (910) 603-2808 Fax (910) 692-9382


James R. McDermott, CPA Shelby B. McDermott, CPA Sonya E. Stalls, CPA Rick McDermott, CPA

• Accounting • Bookkeeping • Consulting • Financial Planning • Tax Preparation & Planning • Closely-Held Businesses • Golf Course (Operations/Consulting)

(910) 246-0660

FAX: (910) 246-0661 • E-Mail: rmcdermott@jrmcpa.com

515 D MIDLAND RD. • SOUTHERN PINES, NC 28387 PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012


Anthony Gibbs and Jefferson Goodwin

John & Martha Buckler LaRoche

SandhillSeen MCH Carolina’s District Meet November 30 - December 4, 2011 Photographs by Jeanne Paine

Archie Stevens

Aiken Hounds Gary Lergher and Shellie Sommerson

John Huganir and Lincoln Sadler

Mary Cremmins and Paul Striberry

Danielle Veasey and Shannon McCully

Diana Farr, Ann Webb and Marilee Nagy

Diana Farr, Shannon McCully, Danielle Veasey, Diane Garza and Shirley Gaither

Paul Striberry

Joey Peace, Linda Knox McLean, Dick Webb, Effie Ellis, Cameron Sadler and Mike Russell

Simone Reining, Savannah Russell, Kayela Smith and Mel Wyatt

Mike Russell, Charles DuBose and Fred DuFour Jane Kury and Dick Webb

Dr. George & Danielle Veasey, Shannon McCully and Diane Garza


Shellie Sommerson, Cameron Sadler

Jan Sorrells

January 2012 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

   Fayetteville


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PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012


SandhillSeen MCH Hunt Ball - December 2, 2011 Photographs by Jeanne Paine

Dan Butler, Dennis Paules and Dominick Pagnotta

Diana Farr

Irene Russell, Dick Walsh and Alice & Marshall Glass

Effie Ellis, Dick Webb, Ann Webb, Jeanne Paine, Cameron Sadler and Mike Russell Jean Rae and Hugh Hinton

Dr. Doug Jackson and Claudia Coleman

John Huganir

Tim Sayer, Bob Carriker and Michelle Palladino

Fran Gertz

Mary B. Later and Mike Russell

Barbara Sedwick

George & Mickey Wirtz

Shellie Sommerson, Neil Schwartzberg, Tim Sayer and Diana Farr Claudia Coleman and Mary Dembosky

Dick Webb


Taylor Ellis, Naggie Kelly and Elle Dembosky

Paul Striberry and Jan Sorrells

January 2012 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


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New Expanded Menu!

Table on the Green Now pairing American Cuisine with the exotic tastes of Thailand

910-295-3240, 295-4118 Midland Country Club, Midland Road PUBLIC WELCOME www.tableonthegreen.com

Live Music & Entertainment Please call for info

Sunday Brunch Menu 10-2pm Lunch 11:30 - 2:30 Tues. - Sat. Dinner 5 - 9 Tues. - Sat. Closed Monday Reservations Suggested | Banquet Room Available Elegant Dining with Family Friendly Atmosphere

Support S upport tthese hese llocally ocally owned owned reputable reputable businesses businesses for for all all of of your your home home improvement improvement needs! needs! HOUSE & HOME SERVICES

GO GREEN Energy Saving VISTA Window Film

910-281-5216 dontsquint.com

Concie rge & Prope rty Ma nagem ent Service s “At home - when you can't be...”

Mary Lou Vecchione 910-639-1387 Joey Vecchione 910-639-0385 houseandhomeservices@mindspring.com

West End, NC

(910) 295-2541 pinehurstpatio@nc.rr.com pinehurstpatio.com

Tracy's Carpets Hardwood Floors

Shaw Anso-Premier Carpet Area Rugs • Furniture Vinyl • Tile

(910) 673-5888 tracyscarpets.com



195 – F Pinehurst Avenue Southern Pines, NC 28387


designstudioforcabinetry.com closetsnc.com


Countertops Granite • Quartz Marble

910-944-1380 blarney-stoneworks.com


January 2012 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


Anyone Care For a Good Slice? The only thing worth missing is the pizza

By Geoff Cutler

A crispy crust, just the right mixture

of sauce to melted cheese, there’s nothing quite as satisfying as a great slice of pizza. I was enjoying one the other day and pondering over what Thoughts From The Manshed might have to talk about this month, when it dawned on me. Pizza!

After we’d settled here, we were often asked if we missed living in Boston. The answer was usually no. There is so much that’s wonderful about this area, it’s hard to look back at city life and find anything to recommend it. It was cold for one thing, the weather almost the exact opposite that it is here. Nine cold months, three hot ones. Here, we have a couple months where it can get bloody cold, but before you know it, the Magnolia and Forsythia blossom, followed shortly thereafter by the Azalea and Dogwood, and spring unfolds in a riot of color and warm sunny days. Then it stays lovely right through to late Fall. And then there is the sheer size of the metropolis, the traffic, congestion and hustle and bustle. We’re so lucky here to still be able to move about relatively unrestricted by endless lines of stopped cars. If you’ve never lived in a big city, you’ve no idea how something as mundane as driving a car from point A to point B can drive you absolutely bonkers. That’s because you’re not really driving at all. You just starting and stopping, starting and stopping. “Well there must be something you miss,” they say. There is, and it’s pizza. Now, don’t get me wrong, no need for bunched knickers, we have some good pizza here, this isn’t meant to be a critical food review, it’s just that the only thing I could think of to miss about my hometown, is pizza. As a kid, we weren’t allowed to have it. At least I think that’s true because I don’t remember eating any until living away at school in Connecticut, when almost every night, great swaths of the student body called down to Brothers Pizza to get an after-study-hall-pie delivered to their dorms. These guys made a killing on the two schools in the area, and they’d come onto campus around 9:30 p.m. in cars so stuffed with pizza boxes there was just enough room left over for the driver.

The brothers made Greek pizza because they were a Greek family. The difference as compared with Italian pizza, is that the crust tended to be somewhat thicker, but still relatively thin, airier, and always crispy, not quite as much sauce, perhaps, but it was the cheese that really made it so tasty. It tended to be somewhat greasier, but thick and elastic and usually baked until it browned over in spots. Rarely did it need toppings, just plain cheese was fine. I can taste it now. Fabulous. Back in Boston, the options for either Italian or Greek pizza were endless. It seemed like you could find a Pizza sub shop on every block. Closest to our house was a place called Pinos. This house catered to Boston College students and because of that, did, and still does today, a huge business, which is passed down from one generation of the family to the next. Most often, we ordered this Italian pizza by the slice, or two. One never seemed enough. A wafer-thin crust, always crispy, and an oregano tinged sauce with a looser mozzarella, not generally browned like the Greek pies, but always an even combination of ingredients. Every pie seemed to taste and look exactly like the one that came out the oven before it. Because we ordered by the slice, we had plenty of room left over in our stomachs, and I remember one of my brothers would also order a sub to go with his slice. On my first trips back North to visit family and friends, pizza was always on my mind, and I’d ask my sister if we could stop somewhere on the way from the airport to get a slice. Seems a strange thing to covet pizza this way, but for some odd reason, pizza is what I missed about living there. So sitting and eating the slice of pizza and wondering about what to write, it dawned on me that the slice I was eating was unbelievably good. And with each bite, I noticed that it seemed to be almost a mixture of the Italian and Greek pizzas I so loved. A crispy homemade crust, an herbed tomato sauce, just the right amount of cheese and browned over in some spots. Absolutely wonderful slice of pizza. Where is this delicacy, you ask? In Seven Lakes at the Seven Lakes Pizza house. Check it out. You will not be disappointed. PS Geoff Cutler is owner of Cutler Tree LLC in Southern Pines. He is a regular contributor to both The Pilot and PineStraw. He can be reached at geoffcutler@ embarqmail.com.

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012



General Psychotherapy Practice for Adults, Children, and Families

Licensed Psychologist and former Special Forces Soldier, specializing in the SOF Community PATRICK E. CALLAHAN, PH.D.


Fax 910-295-1549 P.O. Box 3090, Pinehurst, NC 28374

January PineNeedler It ITFigures! FIGURES 1





By Mart Dickerson

5 6 7

8 9













21 23





27 28


30 31


10 Leftover after the corn casserole

is made 27 Healthy post holiday 19phrase 1 "Cold one" How you want to thatpart packs 1 First of puzzle breakfast fare (4) appear on the pounds (4)shape, and what of puzzle phrase 5 In great youpost-holiday want 12 Second part (4) 3 After holiday want to foodjeans to do post-holiday 15 What29 youHow do toyou'll ill-fitting your 20 for Anxious suggestion (6) 1st activity clothinglook come summer 7 January many habit (2 words-Hyph) (4-6) 4 What you aim to candy do 16 ___-frutti (3) 9 French 22 Breakast staple, and about that extra 19 Last part of puzzle phrase "devilish" at parties weight (2 words) (4,2) (4) 7 Holiday cheese en 24 Clear, as a postcroute (4) holiday 6 5 drain 1 (6) 8 What your tummy 25 Japanese snack does after the holiday 2 offering (5) meal (2 words)8 (4,3)

3 1

1 5

21 Martini morsel 23 Hawaiian dress style after weight gain 26 Not happy with one’s choices (2 words-hyph) 28 Pinch an _____ 30 “Step away from the _____.” 31 How you want your post-holiday jeans to feel

3 2 1 7 9 5 6 6 2 3 5 2 7 4 9 4

1 Holiday snack with crackers or chips 2 “Dig in!” 3 Cheesy Mexican snack 4 Laze around, or car in neutral 5 ___ Tuesday (Mardi Gras) 6 TV spot 8 Like your treadmill...probably 9 New Year’s Day game, and snack holder 10 Bit of New Years Day green side dish 11 “Cold one” that packs on the pounds 13 After holiday food suggestion 14 What you aim to do about that extra weight (2 words) 17 Holiday cheese en croute 18 What your tummy does after the holiday meal (2 words) 19 How you want to appear postholiday 20 Anxious habit (2 words-hyph) 22 Breakast staple, and “devilish” at parties 24 Clear, as a post-holiday drain 25 Japanese snack offering 27 Healthy post-holiday breakfast fare 29 How you’ll want to look come summer

Curry House Tuesdays in January @ The Sly Fox!

Five Tuesdays in January gives you five opportunities to enjoy fabulous Curries while earning points at our sister restaurants! Attend one night: Thank you, we appreciate it! Attend two nights: Receive a complimentary starter at Rue 32, The Sly Fox, or Elliott’s on Linden; Attend three nights: Receive a complimentary starter and dessert at Rue, The Fox, or EOL; Attend four nights and receive a $25.00 gift card to any of our restaurants; Attend all five and you’re in business! You’ll receive a nice bottle of wine and a complimentary starter on your next visit to any of our restaurants!


Fill in the grid so every row, every column and every 3x3 box contain the numbers 1-9. Puzzle answers on page 83

Mart Dickerson lives in Soiuthern Pines and would welcome any suggestions from her fellow puzzle masters. She can be reached at martaroonie@gmail.com

PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . January 2012



Fat Suit

The fancy body-shaper wasn’t me. That is why it ended up on the floor

By Lynn Moore


was frantic. It was 5:30 p.m. and the wedding started at 7 p.m., a wedding that was the social event of the year. Our governor was marrying a congressional committee member here in Fairfax, Virginia. My makeup looked great. What makeup job doesn’t when you spend two hours applying it? I was trying to look a little younger; 15 years was my goal. With all of the shading and contouring tricks I learned at my last pay-the-rent job in cosmetics 20 years ago, I did, in fact, achieve a younger look. Admittedly, I didn’t expect to be “carded” at the wedding, but I don’t know of one woman who doesn’t want to look younger after menopause marches in with its army of sagging skin, fine lines and enough fat cells to wreck any wardrobe.

In my attempt to lose the 20 pounds that has sabotaged my happiness since hot flashes and night sweats took over my life, I have tried the milkshake diet, a hospital diet and the low-fat diet that worked great when I was 30. Hmmm. Wonder why the same diet doesn’t work any longer? I had decided to wear black again. My black, beaded knit, empirewaist, V-neck cocktail dress was slimming. If I had learned anything at all from watching one hundred episodes of “What Not to Wear,” it was to camouflage what you want to disguise. The only way to camouflage 20 extra pounds on my 5’ 5” frame was to buy a body shaper. Or what I call a “Fat Suit.” It’s just a few yards of Spandex designed to hold in the lumps and bumps that extra curricular fat produces around the belly. Three weeks before the wedding I had found one — sleek, shiny and black. I had tried it on in the dressing room and looked amazingly like a size eight again. Reaching into my closet, I happened to see the size four sequined silk pantsuit that I could no longer fit into. Was the girl who used to wear this actually related to me? I took out my Fat Suit, stepped into the two leg holes and began to slowly tug at the stretchy Spandex that was tight enough to keep a ship in a harbor. I pulled and pulled until it was resting beneath my breasts. I felt a sharp pain coming from the boning on the princess seam lines. Boning gives additional shape to the waistline in addition to forcing the unwanted bulges up toward the breasts. By moving fat up from the middle, you can look one size smaller and your breasts will look


two sizes larger. Who would ever want a boob job when you can buy a Fat Suit for $49.99? As I finally tugged the crotch into place, I discovered I couldn’t breathe. Something was wrong. Surely, I would want to be able to breathe at this lavish wedding, maybe even talk to people. I started feeling lightheaded. An anxiety attack was coming at the speed of a freight train. Tears started to ruin my perfect makeup job. I yanked at my Fat Suit until it was off and lying on the floor. I felt like a heavyweight prize fighter sitting on the mat after a surprise punch. I needed a referee. I had to settle for calming self-talk. “Maybe in the dressing room, Lynn, where you tried on five different styles of Fat Suits, you inadvertently handed the wrong one to the sales clerk.” That had to be it! My emotions jumped onto this welcome bandwagon of relief. I still had the receipt, so tomorrow I would simply return the size medium and buy the large Fat Suit although I was having a problem forming the word “large” on my lips. Picking it up from the floor, I decided to check the label inside for the name brand. What I saw, I didn’t like. “Size: Large.” I blinked and looked again. “Size: Large.” This couldn’t be. But it was. I remembered wrong. I would have to exchange my Fat Suit for an even fatter Fat Suit, an extra large. Reality whispered the news to my saddened mind. “I had outgrown my fat suit.”‘ I heard the whisper one more time. “You’ve outgrown your Fat Suit.” Too much truth for this moment in time. I wiped away the last of my tears and walked into my bedroom to find my Panty Smoother in my lingerie drawer. It offered a smooth panty line with no promises of turning me into the Disco Babe I was in 1980. I slipped it on. It was as comforting as an old friend. I then fastened my Wonder Bra that lifted my size 40C breasts up to eye level. After slipping my cocktail dress over my head, I reached to the top shelf of my closet and grabbed my platinum brocaded evening bag. I put my Chanel Classic Red Lipstick, a comb and Tic Tacs inside. While fastening my three-inch Calvin Klein rhinestone sandals, I made a promise to myself to have a fabulous time at the wedding anyway. I also carried with me the wisdom of Spandex: Even a Fat Suit has its limitations. PS Lynn Moore is an actress, singer and writer now living in the Sandhills. Illustration by Pamela Powers January

January 2012 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

harp-playin’, horn-blowin’, song-beltin’, hand-clappin’, heart-pumpin’ jazzzzzzzz.

Fill your senses with a weekend of classic jazz in the Cardinal Ballroom of the Carolina Hotel. Tickets include admission to a post-show “Meet-the-Artist” dessert reception. Enjoy a special pre-show dinner for just $40.

27th Annual Pat Bergeson

Tickets: $65 per night or $110 for both nights

Friday, February 10, 8pm

Pat Bergeson & his Quartet Featuring Vocalist Annie Sellick

Saturday, February 11, 8pm Annie Sellick

Trumpeter & Vocalist Brian Newman & Quartet

Purchase tickets at ShopPinehurst.com. For dinner reservations, call 235-8415.

Brian Newman

Presented by The Arts Council of Moore County

Profile for PineStraw Magazine

January PineStraw 2012  

January PineStraw 2012