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www.prudentialpinehurst.com

Old Town Pinehurst

Shadowlawn: English tudor on 1.5+ lush acres. Quaility & History define this distinctive property. Text T256378 to 85377

Emily Hewson 910.315.3324

Old Town Pinehurst

Masterful ground-up renovation of the former Rectory House. Wood Beams, Wine Cellar, 5BR/5+BA. Text T11637 to 85377

Emily Hewson 910.315.3324

Live Large - CCNC

Hilltop 5+acres, Main House: 3BR/3+BA, 3-Car Garage, Carriage House: 1BR/1BA, Playroom. Text T767382 to 85377

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Pinewild Country Club

Golf Front! Large country home overlooking pond. Decorators delight! Wrap around deck. $579,000 Text T389304 to 85377

Marie O’Brien 910.528.5669

CCNC

Stonegate: Magnificent golf front home with water views on #17 Dogwood Course. Renovated. Text T529422 to 85377

Jim Saunders 910.315.1000

Pinewild Country Club

Sophisticated elegance at its finest! Stunning home overlooking several greens and the lake. Text T422568 to 85377

Marie O’Brien 910.528.5669

Old Town Pinehurst

Blackjack Cottage stunning home with magnificent views. 4ensuite bdrms. See: www.40Culdee.com Text T588314 to 85377

Beverly Valutis 910.916.1313

CCNC

Seller open to offers. Brick one-story home on wooded lot. 3BR/3.5BA, Carolina Rm. $390,000 Text T11591to 85377

Joel Rich 910.315.4009

Log on to www.prudentialpinehurst.com FOR OUR Easy Search or Snap & Search with our FREE APP on your Smart Phone 910.295.5504 Pinehurst | 910.692.2635 Southern Pines

CCNC - Waterfront

Formal areas flow out to lakeside terrace! 4BR/3+BA home on 1.62acres. Private! $1,400,000 Text T547882 to 85377

Carolyn Hallett 910.986.2319

Old Town Pinehurst

Edgewood Cottage elegant vintage Dutch Colonial exudes charm & character! Koi Pond, Pool & Cabana. Text T11599 to 85377

Eva 910.638.0972 / Emily 910.315.3324

Knollwood Heights

Brilliant renovation of this 1920's house. 4BR/4.5BA. See: www.clarkpropertiesnc.com Test T11855 to 85377

Maureen Clark 910.315.1080

Donald Ross Area

Style, quality & value! Well appointed custom brick home. 3BR/3BA, PCC available. $349,000 Text T244078 to 85377

Mary Joe Worth 910.695.5430

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©2012 BRER Affiliates Inc. An independently owned and operated broker member of BRER Affiliates, Inc. Prudential, the Prudential logo and the Rock symbol are registered service marks of Prudential Financial, Inc. and its related entities, registered in many jurisdictions worldwide. Used under license with no other affiliation with Prudential. Equal Housing Opportunity.


The Ryder Cup Lounge D r i n k I n Th e G a me

D

iscover a whole new dining experience at the

Ryder Cup Lounge located just off the porch of the historic Carolina Hotel. From the BBQ Pork Two Ways to the Pretzel Panini, our menu is as unique as Pinehurst itself.



We d n e s d a y S p e c i a l

Li v e Mu s i c

Get complimentary Deconstructed Nachos –

Bob Redding

tortilla chips, pulled pork

Friday & Saturday nights

BBQ, queso sauce, hoop cheese, refried beans, cilantro cream, salsa and guacamole – with the

.

Sunday brunch

purchase of one entrée. *

The Carolina Hotel • Village of Pinehurst, North Carolina • 910.235.8415 • pinehurst.com

©2012 Pinehurst, LLC

* Limit one appetizer per table.


October 2012

Volume 7, No. 10

Departments

Features

57 Over

Poetry by Kathryn Stripling Byer

58 Gone West

By Maureen Clark

By Ashley Wahl

Hear the voices of three of our state’s most revered literary giants resound at Weymouth

70 The Welcome

74

Short fiction by Ruth Moose

Hamlet: Prince of Towns By John Wilson

Our PineStraw traveler finds a world to love about Hamlet

82

Paulie’s Tale

By Tom Embrey

Who knew one small possum could change the world?

86 Sandhills Photography Club

Nature Photography Competition Winners 88

Home on the Range By Maureen Clark

The rugged life of Jim and Lisa Van Camp

97 October Almanac

By Noah Salt

Going batty and the great American pumpkin

2

Local tenderfoots on a real cowboy cattle drive

66 A Little Pound Cake and Tea

7 10

Sweet Tea

17 19

Cos and Effect

23 29 31 35 37 39 41 45 47 51 98 111 125

127 128

Jim Dodson

PinePitch Cos Barnes

The Omnivorous Reader

Stephen E. Smith

Bookshelf Hitting Home

Dale Nixon

Cook at Large

Deborah Salomon

Vine Wisdom

Robyn James

Spirits

Frank Daniels III

Out of the Blue

Deborah Salomon

Life of Jane

Jane Borden

Birdwatch

Susan Campbell

The Sporting Life

Tom Bryant

Golftown Journal

Lee Pace

Calendar SandhillSeen Thoughts From the Manshed

Geoff Cutler

PineNeedler SouthWords

Mart Dickerson Tom Allen

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


The DUXŽ Bed can deliver the best night’s sleep you will ever experience. Each DUX Bed contains thousands of springs that dynamically support your body, contouring to its natural curves while still maintaining firm support. You wake up refreshed and relaxed. Our artisans have hand crafted each DUX Bed from the finest materials since 1926. Your comfort, our pleasure.

DUXIANA at The Mews Downtown Southern Pines 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

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

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

Ashley Wahl, Editorial Associate EDITORIAL

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

John Gessner

CONTRIBUTORS

Tom Allen, Cos Barnes, Jane Borden, Tom Bryant, Kathryn Stripling Byer, Susan Campbell, Maureen Clark, Geoff Cutler, Frank Daniels III, Tom Embrey, Mart Dickerson, Robyn James, Pamela Powers January, Meridith Martens, Ruth Moose, Dale Nixon, Lee Pace, Jeanne Paine, Noah Salt, Stephen E. Smith, John Wilson

PS David Woronoff, Publisher ADVERTISING SALES

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

Stacey Yongue, 910.693.2509 Mechelle Butler, Clay Culberson, Scott Yancey CIRCULATION & SUBSCRIPTIONS

Darlene Stark, Circulation Director 910.693.2488

PineStraw Magazine

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

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


Floor Plans to FitAny Lifestyle New Construction homes by

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


My October Friend

SweeT TeA chrOnicleS

he’s my oldest friend and might

be the closest thing I know to a Renaissance man: an expert fly-fisherman and serious outdoorsman, a crack businessman, a devoted husband and father, a student of history and philosophy, serious oenophile, respectable golfer, skilled guitarist, even a beloved Sunday School teacher.

Not to mention one competitive SOB. That’s probably why I love him so much, my old friend Pat McDaid. True friendship, Aristotle said, is like one soul in two bodies. We’ve been needling and comforting each other, sharing life’s unanticipated ups and downs for nigh on forty years, almost since the late summer day my family moved to the north side of Greensboro and I wandered through a honeysuckle hedge and discovered a scrawny kid about my age shooting hoops at the end of his driveway. He looked like the Irish leprechaun on the Lucky Charms TV commercial. “Hey,” he said to me, “want to play horse?” “Sure,” I said, not knowing a single soul in the neighborhood. So we played. I don’t remember who won. Pat probably won. He had a better jump shot than me, though I was half a head taller. Even before proper introductions were made we played a second game, then went down to his basement to shoot a game of pool. We were both going into ninth grade and hormones — mine at least — were raging. Without any warning, his pretty kid sister Susie sauntered downstairs in search of her bathing suit, dressed only in her flowered underwear. My blood jumped. Her jaw dropped. She shrieked back up the steps promising to murder her brother. “That’s just my sister Susie,” Pat nonchalantly explained with a laugh. I went back the next day to listen to a Temptations record and hopefully see more of Susie. We played more pool and shot hoops. Pat in fact had two other sisters, one older (Jane), and another even younger (Carol). His mom was a nice but formal lady and his dad — Big Pat — was a super-friendly Irishman who owned the major electrical supply in town. The family attended Our Lady of Grace Catholic Church. “My dad hopes I’ll be a priest someday,” my new friend confided over Chinese checkers one rainy afternoon at my house. Not long after this, Pat’s grandmother was visiting and I was invited to Sunday lunch, with sweet little Carol, the

Left: Pat McDaid and Jim Dodson performing at a 1971 Grimsley pep rally

youngest, seated next to me. The blessing had barely ended when Carol broke wind with gusto. Every head swiveled in our direction. Her mother wasn’t amused, “Carol, dear, what does a proper young lady say?” Carol thought for a moment and grinned. “Oh, right. Safeties!” The table broke up. Pat and I laughed about that for years. We were in each other’s houses and lives constantly after this, playing board games or shooting hoops or quarterbacking fierce neighborhood pick-up games against each other that always went way past dark. I was Sonny Jurgensen, he was Fran Tarkenton. Pat threw a tighter spiral but I could throw the ball farther. We argued passionately about every team, every sport, every season, every player. When a second October arrived we went dove hunting out at my father’s childhood friend Henry Tucker’s farm out on New Garden Road, and Pat, a better shot, bagged twice as many doves as I did, probably because I always hated killing anything. There were really only three areas in which my best friend simply couldn’t top me. To this day I call them the three G’s — for guitar, golf and God. Because I started early and studied classical guitar for a time and wound up teaching at Mr. Weinstein’s music shop on weekends, I enjoyed a big head-start on Pat’s growing interest in music. I began playing golf in earnest around age 9 after swim practice at the Bur-Mil Club, punching around the cute little par-3 course half a million times before my dad permitted me to step up to Green Valley Golf Club. By the time Pat and I started playing the “goat tracks” around town in high school, I regularly shot in the mid to high 70s, at least ten strokes better than my best friend. He was more interested in running track, anyway, and lettered in cross-country. Unlike Pat’s father, mine had no design on his son becoming a clergyman, which may explain why I never had a problem believing in a loving creator. My old man — whom I nicknamed Opti the Mystic owing to his upbeat nature and love of a divine presence he believed was manifest everywhere but particularly in nature — served as the moderator of the adult men’s Sunday School for more than two decades. Not surprisingly, he introduced my older brother Dickie and me to camping and fishing at an early stage of life and encouraged us to follow Scouting all the way to Eagle rank. The night I received my Eagle at the Guilford Friends Meeting House, my pal Pat showed up to needle me and show his support. After that, we camped and fished and hiked all over the Blue Ridge in each other’s company. In high school, we both made the Queensmen, a folk group from the

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

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sweet tea chronicles

senior choir. I loaned him one of my guitars, taught him a few chords, and soon he’d bought his own guitar and was off and running. Pat was in Key Club and ran track, I was president of Interact Club and played golf. He could outrun me but I still murdered him at golf. We played all over the Triad, snuck on Starmount just before dark, and argued endlessly about orange golf balls and Mr. Nixon’s Cambodia policy. In college at Chapel Hill, Pat became something of a rebel, grew his hair and protested the war, becoming a priest no longer an option. Big Pat, I suspect, was none too happy. Down at East Carolina, I also grew my hair and wrote for the school paper and would have enlisted in the Air Force had my poor eyesight not kept me out. We still saw each other occasionally on football weekends but every year we seemed to drift further apart, politically and socially. Even so, when my girlfriend since high school was murdered up in the mountains, Pat showed up at her funeral to lend me support. I considered going on to seminary in Chicago but instead moved to Atlanta and worked for the newspaper’s Sunday magazine. Pat went to work for Big Pat and married a girl who had a rock band. During one trip home to Greensboro, he invited me over to the tiny house he and his wife shared. She was away, playing a gig, always on the road, it turned out. It was a tough time for my old friend. Pat and his dad had officially parted ways. I never quite got the whole story. When Big Pat was sober, you’d never met a nicer guy. But when he wasn’t, his son Pat was the easiest moving target and his biggest disappointment. Sometimes he fired him and later failed to remember it. Pat left his dad and found a job selling light bulbs, often stopping in to chat with my old man — who thought of him as a third son. Eventually he found a great mentor and became an outstanding manufacturer’s rep, a born salesman, a true rainmaker. I was pleased to be in Pat’s second marriage to his beautiful wife Terry, as an usher who could still kick his butt at golf and play the guitar better. (Not that I was competitive or anything.) By then I was living in Maine with a wife, two sprouts and a very demanding job that often took me around the world. But irrespective of time, give us five minutes together, we were boys of October trying to outdo each other in the dusk. Pat’s passion for guitars developed into a full-blown addiction. He built a special guitar room at his house and even recorded some outstanding original compositions. He’d also taken up fly-fishing with a vengeance and had purchased land in the mountains where he planned to build a cabin — something my father and I had long talked of doing. One day Pat went to check on his father

8

and found Big Pat unconscious on the floor of his childhood home. His sisters were living elsewhere with busy lives of their own. Didn’t surprise me in the least that Pat became his father’s primary caregiver, his steadfast keeper as the disease deepened and took its toll. As best friends do, we talked fairly regularly on the phone — he from his car somewhere on the highway, me from my office over the barn on the coast of Maine — about politics, books, our fathers, wives and children, you name it — the only friend I ever shared so much with. Time’s passage had made Pat something of an enlightened Libertarian, me an Olympia Snowe Republican. His daughter Emily and my son Jack were born the same year. We went on family vacations together and took rowdy guys-only golf trips to Ireland and England, where Pat’s game suddenly equaled mine. I had to work much too hard, in fact, to beat the little SOB. We were in Ireland together one fine autumn evening where we happened upon a gorgeous stag in the dusk when he began telling me about the youth Sunday School class he’d agreed to teach at Christ Methodist Church, the church around the corner from my childhood home. “I look at these kids and I think, ‘That was us at one time,’” he said. “I wish there were things someone had honestly told us about life — how you’ll go through hard times but that’s OK and even vital in order to think and ask the right questions.” So, in the end, he took a page from my dad’s book and became a priest of sorts — albeit an innovative Methodist youth Sunday School teacher. During one of my frequent trips home, shortly before I moved home from New England, I sat in on one of Pat’s Sunday classes and was deeply impressed, but hardly surprised, by the way he wove challenging questions and powerful spiritual insights into his class discussion. Last October, during our 40th high school reunion, a former classmate pulled me aside and asked if Pat and I were still best of chums. She remembered how the two of us once played a school pep rally dressed up like moonshining rednecks and were competitive in everything. “By the way,” she added, “I loved your book about fly-fishing with your daughter across America. I just watched the movie.” The book she meant is called Faithful Travelers, which indeed was made into a nice little cable film a few years ago. I’d been fly-fishing in Maine for almost two decades. But after he took up the sport, Pat flatly outdid me by joining an elite fishing club and becoming an expert at stalking wild trout. When I told her this she laughed. “You two never stop, do you?” “Nope. And unfortunately I can’t even kick his ass in golf, guitar and the great outdoors anymore.” I told her about the rustic cabin Pat had constructed on a mountainside in southwest Virginia,

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


sweet tea chronicles

a piece of heaven where he rigged up motion-sensitive cameras to film the local wildlife. Over the years he’s followed the lives of a mother black bear and her cub and video-tracked a pregnant bobcat and watched a flock of wild turkeys ever expand. The only shooting my October friend does now involves high-speed cameras and occasionally a compound bow. “Did you know,” she added seriously, “that he’s also a fantastic Sunday School teacher? He’s taught the high school kids at our church forever. He’s like a legend to some parents and kids.” I had to smile at this, thinking how boyhood rivalry had grown beautifully into seasoned wisdom. St. Augustine was a such an effective spokesman for Christianity, after all was said and done, because he’d led such a rowdy younger life. And even Jesus seemed to see the potential in fishermen. A few days after the reunion, Pat invited me to meet him at his “secret” fishing club in the hills. I was coming back from speaking at a book festival in Asheville and soon we were thigh-deep in a cold rushing Blue Ridge stream, lost in the pageant-fire of another October, though hardly boys and in the autumn of our own days now, as always talking about everything from our two recent college graduates to the state of a world that always seems to be hovering over the abyss. At one point, I asked him what it is about his long-running Sunday School gig that keeps him doing it year after year. He thought a moment and smiled, making a beautiful roll-cast to an emerald pool. “I’ve probably committed every mistake imaginable and survived all sorts of disappointment and I’m not afraid to share what I’ve learned from it. “In that respect, I suppose, I’m a crusty Christian. I’ve got a lot of battle scars but faith endures and I find there is still truth in asking questions. So I stir things up a bit — just like Opti the Mystic did in his class. Life has taught me that a spiritual life — a belief in something larger and more mysterious than all of this — is critical. If you don’t ask, you don’t learn. If you don’t learn, you don’t evolve and become who you’re meant to be.” He glanced at me up the stream and added wryly, “You know who told me that, don’t you?” I knew before he said it. He meant my father. Two October friends, one soul. When I said this, he laughed. “No, dumb-ass. You said that to me years ago. We do the same thing. The difference between us is — you write it, I talk it.” Making a cast, I tried to think of what to say. “Yeah, but I can still whip your ass at golf if I have to.” “Dream on, old buddy. By the way, you’re scaring the fish.” I moseyed up the stream to fish by myself for a while, grateful for my October friend. PS

capeable

of preserving life’s little moments There’s nothing like feeling the sun on your back as you savor those last warm days before autumn rolls in. Today you don’t feel a day over 30. And why should you? You exercise, eat right and see your doctor every year. And when a routine mammogram found something, you didn’t take any chances. You called Cape Fear Valley’s Breast Care Center and put their breast health navigator and multidisciplinary team to work for you. They told you when breast cancer is found early, stage 0 or 1, the survival rate is 100 percent. Put yourself in CAPEable hands. And enjoy many more moments in the sunshine.

www.capefearvalley.com

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

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Over and Out

All good things must come to an end. Don’t miss the last First Friday of the season, a grand finale featuring live music from Yarn, a Brooklyn-based Americana band that suits hipsters, country music fans, and everyone in between. When and where? October 5, in the grassy knoll adjacent to the Sunrise Theater, 250 Northwest Broad Street, Southern Pines, from 5 to 8:30 p.m. Admission is free with food donation. Info: www.firstfridaysouthernpines.com. Listen: www.yarnmusic.net.

Be the Change

Family Promise provides shelter, meals and hospitality to homeless families with children. Visit the agency’s Web site and learn that 18 percent of children in Moore County live in poverty. Or, better yet, come to the Fair Barn on Thursday, October 11, for Harvest the Promise, an evening of food, music and fun to benefit Family Promise and help erase homelessness among Moore County families. Call Susan Bellew at (910) 944-7149 for a sneak peek at live and silent auction items. Doors open at 6 p.m. Information: (910) 9442411 or www.familypromiseof moorecounty.org.

Live Opera, Anyone? Into the Night with Gershwin

The Arts Council of Moore County presents the thirty-first season of its venerable Classical Concert Series, which opens on October 1 with an all-Gershwin program created by virtuoso pianist Thomas Pandolfi. Solo piano versions of “Rhapsody in Blue” and “Concerto in F” plus Pandolfi original arrangements of “Embraceable You” and “I Got Rhythm” set the bar high for this four-concert chamber music series. All concerts begin at 8 p.m. Four-concert subscription: $80. Individual ticket: $25. Sunrise Theater, 250 Northwest Broad Street, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-2787 or www.mooreart.org.

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The Met returns to the Sunrise Theater — in HD, that is — with a new season featuring twelve live transmissions. The high culture fun begins on October 13 with Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore, aka The Elixer of Love, a new production that director Bartlett Sher says is “kind of two operas at the same time.” And Shakespeare fans won’t want to miss Verdi’s Otello on October 27. Both shows start at 12:55 p.m. Season tickets are $215; individual tickets cost $25. Sunrise Theater, 250 Northwest Broad Street, Southern Pines. Tickets/Info: (910) 692-8501 or www. sunrisetheater.com

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


A Spot for You May the Best Costume Win

Eat, drink and be merry on October 27 at the seventh annual Spooktacular Halloween Gala to benefit the Companion Animal Clinic Foundation and their efforts to solve animal over-population by providing low-cost spay/neuter in Moore County. Festivities begin at 7 p.m. and include dinner, dancing, live music from Suckerpunch, silent auctions and costume contests. Location: Pinehurst Fair Barn. Tickets: $45/pre-event; $55/at the door. Tickets/Info: (855) 439-3498 or www.companionanimalclinic.org.

October Almanac

Bring the family to the Downtown Park in Southern Pines for a day of autumnal festivities — aka Autumnfest — on Saturday, October 6, from 9 a.m. until 4 p.m. Expect crafts, concessions, local entertainment, plus fun and games for the kiddies. You can register for the 5K foot race ($20) the day of the race; one-mile fun run/walk and youth sprint races (for kids ages 3 to 12) are free. Downtown Park, 145 Southeast Broad Street, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-2463.

This One’s for the Green Thumbs

This time each year, the Sandhills Horticultural Society and landscape gardening students at SCC are up to their ears in azaleas, violas, camellias, daffodils, pansies, hollies, figs — you name it — all available for purchase at their Fall Plant Sale on October 6. Stop by Steed Hall on the campus of Sandhills Community College between 8 a.m. and noon. Snooze, you lose. Info: (910) 246-4959.

Luckily there isn’t a bad seat in the house at Poplar Knight Spot. Claim yours this month for one or more Rooster’s Wife concerts. The lineup: 10/7 – Carolina’s own Chatham County Line, a fusion of gather-round-themic bluegrass with traditional American handmade music, and singer/songwriter Jeanne Jolly, who brings her newest album, Angels, for a signing party. 10/14 – Modern-day troubadour Beth Wood, and the Adam Ezra Group, whose live performances have been compared to those of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. 10/19 – Mollie O Brien and Rich Moore, two national treasures who combine blues and bluegrass and create a fresh harmonic convergence onstage. 10/21 – Slide guitar player Tom Maxwell, and Walter Strauss, whom Maverick Magazine pegged a “one-man folk festival.” 10/28 – Bluesman Chris Smither, and Asheville folksinger Moses Atwood. Sunday shows begin at 6:46 p.m. at Poplar Knight Spot, Friday show begins at 8 p.m. For ticket prices and more information, call the concert hotline at (910) 944-7502 or visit www. theroosterswife.org.

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

Lord Alan Watson will be the guest speaker at the English-Speaking Union (Sandhills branch) meeting on October 3. Although the queen won’t be there, Lord Watson will honor her through a discussion of his book The Queen and the U.S.A., which celebrates the lasting bond between the United Kingdom and the United States. The meeting is exclusive to English-Speaking Union members, but the public can hear him speak earlier that day (2 p.m.) at The Country Bookshop, 140 Northwest Broad Street, Southern Pines. Monthly E-SU dinner meetings, by the way, are held at the Country Club of North Carolina and membership is open to the public. For E-SU membership and program information, contact Hope Price at (910) 692-7727.

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

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PINEHURST

PINEBLUFF

SEVEN LAKES NORTH

Enjoy magnificent lake views from this beautiful home with boat dock! The foyer’s cathedral ceiling continues into the living room with brick fireplace and large picture window. Open to the living room and kitchen, the dining room features hardwood floors, crown molding and chair rail, and a chandelier light.

Live like you are on a perpetual vacation with your own pool and tennis courts! This lovely 3 bedroom home includes an open floor plan with the kitchen open to the living and dining areas. The living room features a gas log fireplace with built-in entertainment center above, crown molding, and recessed lighting.

4 BR / 3.5 BA $615,000 Code 930 www.1060BurningTreeRoad.com

3 BR / 2.5 BA $289,000 Code 926 www.105MastersWay.com

Lake Front! This brick ranch on over an acre on Big Juniper Lake offers privacy and gorgeous lake views. The vaulted ceiling in the living room makes the large room feel even more spacious. Great lake views from the picture window. Accessed from outside the home, the lower level offers plenty of room for a work shop/artist studio/rec room. 3 BR / 2 BA $249,000 Code 936 www.126CardinalLane.com

SEVEN LAKES WEST

SEVEN LAKES WEST

PINEHURST

This gorgeous, custom-built home is on almost an acre of pristine property! The home has tons of space - over 4,000 sq feet and is the perfect family home. Beautiful hardwood floors, 2 gas fireplaces, and a wonderful 3-car garage. 4 BR / 4.5 BA $399,000 Code 937 www.130LamplighterLane.com

Great single-level waterfront on Lake Auman This immaculate and tasteful home enjoys wide water views of Lake Auman. Cozy sunroom is the perfect place to enjoy a quiet morning or lazy afternoon in comfort while watching the sailboats go by. The kitchen has been beautifully updated and is open to the living areas. 2 BR / 2.5 BA $469,000 Code 938 www.138SwaringenDrive.com

Sweet Spot Cottage - This beautiful, custom home, built by Billy Breeden, overlooks the 4th fairway of the #5 course. Located on a quiet cul-de-sac, the lane leading to this home feels like a cart path! Hardwood floors greet you on entry and continue throughout all the living areas. The living room features a wall of windows with great golf views, a gas log fireplace, and a built-in bookcase/media center. 3 BR / 2.5 BA $389,000 Code 939 www.3ForestHillsLane.com

McLENDON HILLS

LONGLEAF CC

PINEHURST

Gorgeous French country farmhouse sits high on a private wooded hill on 3 fenced acres in McLendon Hills. Zoned for horses but incredibly appealing to anyone who loves space and privacy. This custom built home is beautifully designed and w/3,800+ sq. feet. 4 BR / 3.5 BA $575,000 Code 940 www.600BrokenRidgeTrail.com

Gorgeous golf front home overlooking the 1st green of the Longleaf CC. The living room takes full advantage of the soaring ceiling heights, gas log fireplace flanked with built-in cabinetry and is open to the formal dining with architectural column and decorative palladium window. 3 BR / 2 BA $339,000 Code 713 www.325MagnoliaCircle.com

Beautiful new construction with an upscale European look! This golf front home in Fairwoods on 7 has it all! Hardwood floors greet you on entry and lead into the formal dining room with crown and chair rail molding and a modern chandelier. 3 BR / 3.5 BA $525,000 Code 925 www.33GrangerDrive.com

SEVEN LAKES NORTH

ABERDEEN

PINEHURST

This is a great two story home with lots of great features! Your family will love the spacious rooms of this well maintained home. The living room features a large brick fireplace, crown molding and access to the covered porch. The kitchen offers ample storage, work space and includes a dining area with chandelier lighting and access to the porch. 3 BR / 2 BA $178,000 Code 806 www.119PineneedleDrive.com

This is a charming, updated brick home in a great location with many desirable features. The living room offers hardwood flooring and a large picture window. The updated kitchen is a chef’s dream with three ovens! A really large yard with irrigation in the rear -big enough for a garden

All-Brick Golf-front in Pinehurst #6 Beautifully renovated home on the 3rd green of Pinehurst #6! Enter through the slate floored courtyard to the double entry front doors to this delightful home with beautiful views of the golf course.

3 BR / 2 BA $174,000 Code 895 www.303McQueenRoad.com

3 BR / 2.5 BA $239,900 Code 888 www.120DeerwoodLane.com

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

WWW.MARTHAGENTRY.COM


Homemade Fun

The Sandhills Woman’s Exchange will celebrate their historic building, which was built in 1826 and relocated to Pinehurst 90 years ago, on Saturday, October 27, with live music, refreshments, door prizes, face painting and more beginning at 10 a.m. Admission is free, but don’t leave without trying a cup of their soup and one of their legendary desserts. Sandhills Woman’s Exchange, 15 Azalea Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-4677.

A Vintage Taste

The cornbread alone is reason enough to drop by the Shaw House Fair on Saturday, October 13, but why not make a day of it? From 10 a.m. until 4 p.m., find vintage collectibles and antiques, take a tour of the historic Shaw House (free), watch vintage craft demonstrations (also free), and enjoy live music, hot dogs and homemade desserts. Proceeds from the Moore Treasures table of collectibles and silent auction will benefit the Moore County Historical Association. The Shaw House is located at 110 Morganton Road and Southwest Broad Street, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-2051 or www. moorehistory.com.

Here and There

The Southern Pines Sister Cities Pine Cone Open, an inaugural golf tournament to benefit a youth exchange program with Newry, Northern Ireland, is scheduled for Saturday, November 10, at the Southern Pines Elks Club. Golf plus food, beer and surprises. What’s not to love? Captain’s choice format; $300 per foursome or $75 per individual. For more information, call or email Nancy at (910) 246-4138 or heilmann@sandhills.edu.

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

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Live the Pinehurst Lifestyle M id So uth Club 201 Plantatio n Drive Distinguished two Home Estate in private setting. Golf Front and Water Front. Guest house is revenue producing. 5BD, 4 1/2 BA, 5 car bays. Pool, Fitness Room. Offered at $750,000 Call Lin

Oa khurst Vi sta Subdi vi sio n 240 Oakhur st Vi sta Superb craftsman style home on 13.5 acres. Builders residence. 6BD, 4 1/2 BA plus 2 large offices. Potential Horse-farm. Geo-thermal heating and cooling.

Pinehurs t 1 Bur C ourt Stately brick home on serene Pond. Hardwoods, granite, 11 ft ceilings. Walk-out lower level possible Mother-in-law Suite. 6BD, 5BA plus office, More!

Pi nehur st No 6 Pr emi um C ourse 67 De erwoo d Lane Soaring ceilings, Gourmet kitchen. Golf Front with Carolina Rm, Screened porch, Covered Deck. Mother-in-law suite, Golf and Water Views.

Offered at $650,000 Call Lin

Offered at $530,000 Call Lin

Offered at $525,000 Call Lin

N ati onal Gol f C lub 243 Str athaven C ourt Golf front and 5 bedroom home on cul de sac. 2 bedrms on main floor with adjoining baths, large master with 2 walk-in closets. Office/bedroom and 3 bedrooms upstairs. Granite and stainless steel in kitchen, eat in kitchen overlooking golf course. $585,000. Call Peggy

Old To wn, Pi nehur st 20 W. McDo nal d Ro ad Cottage within walking distance of Village of Pinehurst and Pinehurst Country Club, membership available. 3 bedrooms, 3 1/2 baths, hardwoods, lovely octagonal shaped sun room, 2 car garage. $350,000. Call Peggy

F airwo ods on Seven 60 Inver rar y Road 4 bedrooms and 5 baths with swimming pool, 2 garages for 2 cars each, walk out entertainment area to pool, veranda overlooking yard, golf views of Pinehurst #7 course, gourmet kitchen and more! $1,450,000 Call Peggy or Eddie (690-3145)

CCN C 205 P onte Vedr a Dri ve Waterfront on Lake Watson with views of 14th hole of Dogwood; over 5,000 sq.ft. including 4 BD, 4 BA, 2 half baths, new custom kitchen, pool, & studio. Offered at $1,275,000. Call Scarlett

CCN C 65 Cherr y Hi ll D rive Located on 5.3 private acres; great room open to second level, Carolina room, large eat-in kitchen, newly completed bedroom & bath over garage; 5 BD, 4 BA, 2 half baths. Offered at $660,000. Call Scarlett

C CNC 235 Lake Do rnoch Drive Waterfront on 2.3 acres; completely renovated with two additions; over 5600 sq.ft. with lots of windows for lake & garden views; 4 BD, 3 BA, 2 half baths; pool & pool house. Offered at $1,080,000. Call Scarlett

CC NC 125 Quail H ol low Dr ive Golf front on hole #4 of Cardinal with water views; over 4,000 sq.ft. featuring great room with cathedral ceiling & two master suites; 4 BD, 3.5 BA. Offered at $655,000. Call Scarlett

LIN HUTAFF 910.528.6427

14

lin@linhutaff.com www.linhutaff.com

National Go lf Club 26 Dung arvan Lane Over 3800 sq. ft. of golf front living; gourmet kitchen, two-story great room, 3BD, 2 BA, 2 half baths, media room, bonus room & many extras. Offered at $545,000. Call Scarlett

SCARLETT ALLISON 910.603.0359

homesinparadise@nc.rr.com

PEGGY FLOYD 910.639.1197

Peggy@PinehurstLuxuryProperties.com

October 2012 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills www.scarlettallison.com www.PinehurstLuxuryProperties.com


Don’t Miss it

The Golf Capital Chorus continues to preserve the art of barbershop singing here in the Sandhills. Snag a seat at their annual show, “A Salute to Those Who Served,” on Saturday, November 3, at 7 p.m. and be dazzled. R.E. Lee Auditorium, 250 Voit Gilmore Lane, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 215-9796 or www.thegolfcapitalchorus.org.

Attention All hopheads

Slammin’ Sam, a craft-brewed premium lager named for one of golf’s greatest gentlemen and champions, was launched in early July at the historic Greenbrier Resort in concurrence with the centennial of Sam Snead’s birth. The beer tastes surprisingly floral and pours a clear golden straw color. What’s best? Pinehurst resident Casey Bierer came up with the idea, and then partnered with a Wisconsin brewery to make it happen. Find Slammin’ Sam locally at Pinehurst Resort, 80 Carolina Vista Drive, Pinehurst.

Mira, Mira

Sign up for the fourth annual Miles for MIRA Fun Run/Walk, which happens on Saturday, October 20, and raises money to help provide guide dogs for children who are blind. The 5k-foot race starts and finishes at the Sandhills Community College Athletic Field, and loops around the Southern Pines Reservoir. Minimum entry fee: $25. Register online at www.active.com. For more information, visit www.mirausa.org.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

Patriot’s Pen, a nationwide youth essay competition sponsored by the local Veterans of Foreign Wars Ladies Auxiliary, invites sixth-, seventh- and eighth- graders to express their views on democracy and answer the question, “What Would I tell America’s Founding Fathers?” in 300 to 400 words. The incentive: money for college. The top national prize awards $10,000 in savings bonds plus an all-expenses paid trip to Washington, D.C. for the winner and a parent or guardian. The local VFW awards $150 for first prize. Teachers and guardians can contact Mart Dickerson at (910) 692-7119 or Jackie Emms at (910) 690-7879 to find out how to get started — but hurry! Essays are due by November 1.

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COS And eFFeCT

Granny’s Old nightgown BY COS BARNES

PHOTOGRAPH BY CASSIE BUTLER

S

ome years back my Aunt Sarah asked me if I would like to have one of my grandmother’s nightgowns. “Would I?” I answered incredulously as she opened the lid of an aged walnut cedar-lined chest and rummaged through layers of unused Christmas presents, unworn purchases, and an assortment of crocheted and embroidered items. I had no idea the gowns existed. Drawing out several delicate hand-made nightgowns, once white, now yellowed by time, she said, “Pick the one you want.” “How old are they?’’ I asked breathlessly as I examined each one. “Granny had a cousin make them years ago when her health began to fail. She died in 1954, so they have to be at least 35 years old.” (This was in 1987, so add 25 more years.) I inspected them carefully. Made of softest cotton, they featured yokes with tiny tucks and insertions of lace. The one I chose was trimmed with Hamburg lace at the neck and wrists. Three buttons adorned the front, and the buttonholes were hand-worked. “Can you imagine anyone now taking the time to work buttonholes by hand on a nightgown?” I asked as I slipped the garment over my head. It was wider than me and much shorter, but how I treasure this memento of my grandmother. The gown lies in my cedar chest. I will not wear it. I will not try to whiten it. I would never risk its fragility to bleach. I will simply save it and one day pass it on to one of my progeny. It is not as durable as a piece of furniture, or as lasting as an earring of gold, but it is now mine and how I treasure it. It is my tangible reminder of a woman who bore eleven children, reared six stepchildren as well, and still found the time and heart to serve as a midwife when she was needed. In my mind’s eye I see her still — sitting on the back porch peeling peaches for canning or sitting in her chair in her bedroom, either crocheting yards of delicate trim for pillowcases or reading her Bible. I can see the slow circular motion she used to massage liniment into her aching, swollen legs. She had rheumatism, which no longer exists, it seems.

Etched vividly in my remembrance is the way she removed the pins from the bun at the back of her head, took one of the two combs she wore on either side of it, combed her thinning hair, then took the strands of hair from the comb and tied them in a tiny bow. As youngsters we grandchildren delighted in being the recipient of one of those bows made of strands of silver. I have tried the bow-tying when I remove hair from my brush, but I can’t do it. I see her, dressed in black, and accompanied by her kin, going to the cemetery on Armistice Day (now Veterans Day) in November each year to mourn again the death of Jess, the son who died in France in World War I. I taste again the strawberry pie and wonder anew why my meringues lack the tiny honey-colored beads of sugar hers always possessed. I see her presiding over Christmas Day dinner when the whole clan gathered — and the children — who in those days were seen and not heard — ate at the last table. I remember taking Granny for rides on Sunday afternoons. She always rested her right hand on the door handle as if she did not completely trust machine or driver. With regret I recall my exasperation as a teenager when I had to babysit with my grandmother, who had done it so often and so willingly for me — and my impatience in the declining years when her thoughts began to wander back to her childhood, and she would plead, “Get the wagon, I want to go home.” And I wonder, what did I inherit from my strong, but gentle, grandmother? After all the years of watching her, I cannot crochet. My cooking wins no accolades, and rearing three children nearly did me in. I have the same short, stocky legs, the gray which, like hers, began its trespass in my hair in my twenties and achieved total dominance when I was 40. But what else? A fraction of her goodness, I pray . . . and her gown. PS Cos Barnes is a longtime contributor to PineStraw magazine. She can be contacted at cosbarnes@nc.rr.com.

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

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October 2012 � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills The NEW HOMES Specialist “Only the Pines Cover the Sandhills better!”


The OmnivOrOuS reAder

The Final Liberation of Jack Johnson is it time to pardon America’s most celebrated and controversial heavyweight champion?

BY STEPHEN E. SMITH

On a rainy autumn

afternoon in 1964, my father and I were traveling on US 1 north of Raleigh when he pulled the car onto the shoulder of the road. We sat for a moment before I asked, “Why are we stopped?”

“This is where Jack Johnson died,” he said and went on to explain that Johnson had been the heavyweight champion of the world in the early years of the 20th century — a proud black man struggling to survive in Jim Crow America. At a time when interracial marriage was taboo, he’d been married at least three times to white women, a social transgression that led to his being found guilty of violating the Mann Act. My father knew everything about boxing — names, dates, minutiae too obscure to fathom. He was the boxing coach at the Naval Academy, and for many years, the Everlast corporation featured his photo on their advertising materials. So he knew his stuff. “In 1946, Johnson stopped in Raleigh to eat, and he was refused service at a diner,” my father continued, “so he jumped in his car and sped out of town. He lost control of the vehicle right about here and was fatally injured.” We sat quietly for a few moments, as if to pay tribute to the late champion; then my father pulled the car onto the rain-slick highway, and we went on our way. I’ve been a reader of Jack Johnson biographies ever since. Theresa Runstedtler’s Jack Johnson, Rebel Sojourner: Boxing in the Shadow of the Global Color Line, the latest and most academic of the Johnson biographies, is an extensively researched exploration of the many and varied racial attitudes that shaped Johnson’s life, the lives of his contemporaries, both black and white, and how those attitudes followed Johnson as he fought his way around the world — and, more importantly, how those same repressive attitudes reverberate in contemporary culture. Runstedtler has not, however, written a full-blown biography detailing Johnson’s seemingly endless adventures. Her concern is primarily academic: “The surprising scope of Johnson’s high-profile career throughout Europe, Australia, and the Americas obliges us to think beyond the oftenstagnant domestic squabbles over reformist solutions to racial disparities,”

Runstedtler writes. “The controversies surrounding his far-reaching travels highlight the intrinsic relationships between the rise of global color line and the expansion of Western imperialism and capitalism. Even now, at a moment when many politicians have declared the dawn of the ‘color-blind’ and ‘multicultural’ era, racial inequality remains a defining feature of the contemporary world.” To this end, Runstedtler focuses on Johnson’s much publicized prizefights in Sydney, London, Cape Town, Paris, Havana and Mexico City, and examines public reaction, much of it journalistic, to Johnson’s sojourn in those cities. In Australia, for example, the public initially received Johnson as a minstrel, a harmless object of tomfoolery, but during his two-year stay he was “transformed from an amusing spectacle to a serious threat in the eyes of many white Australians.” And she also analyzes efforts in America and the British Empire to ban the showing of the film of Johnson defeating James Jeffries, the Great White Hope. Much attention is given to the relationship between black fighters and the French people, who seemed always to welcome black celebrities. She writes: “Black American prizefighters exemplified the fundamental paradox of transatlantic modernism for their combination of African primitivism and raw New World energy which became the basis for cultural regeneration of white France.” In 1920, Johnson surrendered to U.S. authorities. “Foreign lands are all right for the foreigner,” Johnson is quoted as saying, “and I have no complaint to make regarding the treatment I have received in many different countries . . . but I am an American through and through, and no country, however generous, can take the place of my country.” He served a year in prison. Readers are likely to find that Runstedtler spends too much time on the rise and fall of “Battling” Siki, a light heavyweight boxer born in Senegal. Although Siki’s experiences with the white color line were similar to those suffered by Johnson and his struggle to rise above white oppression also met with failure, the shift in focus away from Johnson is an unnecessary distraction. Of particular interest are recent efforts to obtain a pardon for Johnson. Senator John McCain and Representative Peter King have been Johnson’s primary supporters, attempting to “expunge a racially motivated abuse of the prosecutorial authority of the federal government from the annals of criminal justice in the United States.” A resolution pardoning Johnson passed the

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

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The Omnivorous Reader

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House and Senate, but in December 2009, the Justice Department announced that no posthumous pardon would be granted Johnson. Most Americans have been made aware of Jack Johnson through Ken Burns’ 2005 documentary Unforgivable Blackness, which is available from libraries and online. Geoffrey Ward’s book by the same title is an excellent biography for anyone seeking to understand Johnson’s story. An able and intelligent storyteller, Johnson wrote My Life and Battles and Jack Johnson, In the Ring and Out, which recount the many trials and tribulations that befell him because of his color. After suffering a lifetime of white oppression, he was philosophical: “I am astounded when I realize that there are few men in any period of the world’s history, who have led a more varied or intense existence than I.” He was right about that. At a time when the University of North Carolina is under intense scrutiny for offering black studies courses that were allegedly never

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taught, Runstedtler’s book is a timely reminder that African and Afro-American Studies are a necessary component of the college curriculum. In the almost 50 years since my father told me about Jack Johnson, I’ve often driven by the location in Franklin County where Johnson was fatally injured. I keep hoping I’ll encounter an NC historical marker that reads: “Jack Johnson, the first African-American to earn the title Heavyweight Champion of the World, was fatally injured here in an automobile accident on June 10, 1946.” It seems to me the citizens of North Carolina owe him that. PS Stephen Smith’s most recent book of poetry is A Short Report on the Fire at Woolworths. He can be reached at travisses@ hotmail.com.

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


The 2012 Holly & Ivy Dinner PineStraw Magazine and Pinehurst Resort Present

at the Holly Inn Frank Sinatra Comes to Christmas Dinner Pinehurst, Circa 1960s Featuring

Singer John Love and members of the Count Basie Orchestra

the Holly inn

tuesday, December 4, 2012 Cocktails at 6:30 p.m. • Dinner at 7:30 p.m. $125 Per Person

A Special Benefit for the given Memorial Library & tufts archives tickets will be available October 9. Make your reservations at www.shoppinehurst.com. For more information, please call (910) 235-8415. 22 October 2012 � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


BOOKSheLF

new releases for October BY KIMBERLY DANIELS AND ANGIE TALLY

FICTION The Art Forger by B.A. Shapiro. This book is a grab-and-do-not-put-down, take-up-yourweekend kind of book. True to life, thirteen works of art were stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston, and it is from this real life theft that the plot takes flight. The novel is about a very talented young painter who was shunned by the establishment early in her career. Though she is gifted, this stain has kept her real work from high-end galleries and museums. She has to pay her bills by creating high quality reproductions of masterpieces. One day an opportunity causes her to re-examine what she wants, who she is, what art means to those who paint it, view it or own it, and ultimately asks the question: What makes art . . . art? Mrs. Queen Takes The Train by William Kuhn. This is a delightful book for people who love all things British. The unflappable Queen Elizabeth II decides to disguise herself, sneak out of the palace and search for memories by visiting her former royal yacht, Britannia, moored in Scotland. The real stars of this novel — the wild cast of servants — form a search party to find her before the tabloids or MI5 hear that she is missing. Horse Stories edited by Diana Secker Tesdell. This collection of stories houses the musings of talented writers that all circle around one subject: HORSES. Annie Proulx and Bret Harte transport us to the ranches of the Old West, and Rudyard Kipling to the polo fields of India. Arthur Conan Doyle makes a famous Thoroughbred disappear, and Raymond Carver gives us a vision of runaway horses in the mist. Jane Smiley, Margaret Atwood, Isaac Babel and Ted Hughes explore the human passions horses can unleash. From the rollicking racetrack humor of Damon Runyon to the poignant lyricism of John Steinbeck’s “The Red Pony” to the wild recklessness of adolescence in William Saroyan’s “The Summer of the Beautiful White Horse” and Lydia Peelle’s “Sweethearts of the Rodeo,” these stories testify to our varied and timeless fascination with this noble animal. The End of Your Life Bookclub by Will Schwalbe. This is the inspiring true story of a son and his mother, Will and Mary Anne, who start a “book club” that brings them together as Mary Anne’s life comes to a close. Over the next two years, they carry on conversations that are both wide-ranging and deeply personal, prompted by an eclectic array of books and a shared passion for

reading. Their list jumps from classic to popular, from poetry to mysteries, from fantastic to spiritual. The issues they discuss include questions of faith and courage as well as everyday topics such as expressing gratitude and learning to listen. Throughout, they are constantly reminded of the power of books to comfort us, astonish us, teach us, and tell us what we need to do with our lives and in the world. Reading isn’t the opposite of doing; it’s the opposite of dying. The Secret Keeper by Kate Morton. Morton is well known for her previous novels, which include The Distant Hours, The Forgotten Garden and The House at Riverton. In her new novel readers again experience a unique writing style and meet a youthful Laurel in the English countryside on the afternoon that she witnesses a shocking crime. Fifty years later, a successful adult Laurel returns and tries to solve the mysteries from her past. With a bountiful cast of characters and set in pre-WW2 England, the blitz, the ’60s and beyond. This is Kate Morton at her best. Back to Blood by Tom Wolfe. Rejoice! Rejoice! Tom Wolfe returns! This time his book delves into the seedy streets of Miami with his signature style of investigative whimsy. From Art Basel to Cubans to Russians to corrupt billionaires and the mayor, this book is sure to delight longtime fans and introduce Wolfe to a new generation of readers.

NONFICTION The John Lennon Letters. Gathered for the first time in a book are the letters Lennon wrote to friends, family, lovers and strangers. In these 200 letters, Lennon’s personality reveals itself, his views are laid bare, and his thoughts are shared in intimate and sometimes heartbreaking ways. A beautiful book and a pleasure to flip through and read at your leisure through multiple sittings or to devour as inner insight into the Beatles. This is a treasure. Barefoot Contessa Foolproof: Recipes You Can Trust by Ina Garten. This is Ina Garten’s latest cookbook, which features tested recipes that are very easy to put together with simple ingredients. Garten’s philosophy is that a chef can assemble meals that do not leave the host or hostess scrambling or worrying. This philosophy is especially useful when applied to entertaining family or friends. She is a mainstay on the Food Network and this cookbook will excite her many fans. Look for the jalapeño cheddar cracker recipe!

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BOOKSheLF

The Art of Procrastination by John Perry. This tonguein-cheek argument of ideas is a fantastic Christmas gift. John Perry realizes that he is someone who gets a lot done while not doing other things. Think of his accomplishments as tasks performed from a “defensive to-do list.” Hilarious and timely, this fun book is for everyone. To anyone who is a procrastinator, you cannot put this off any longer! The Fire of Freedom: Abraham Galloway and the Slaves’ Civil War by David S. Cecelski. Dr. Cecelski wowed attendees last spring at a Weymouth event speaking about his forthcoming book on Abraham Galloway, and now, it is here! Ten years ago no one knew about Galloway and the formative role he played during the Civil War and beyond regarding slaves’ current and future rights.

CHILDREN AND YOUNG ADULT Instead of candy, toss a few good books into the bags of your trick-or-treaters this year. The Biggest Pumpkin Surprise Ever by Steven Kroll. Pumpkins big, pumpkins small, pumpkins short and pumpkins tall! Young readers will enjoy lifting the flaps to find all the hidden pumpkins in this colorful fall celebration. Ages 2-4.

Olivia and the Fairy Princesses by Ian Falconer. “If everyone’s a princess, then princesses aren’t special anymore,” declares Olivia. What is a pig to do to stand out in a pink and sparkly world? Fun for ages 4-7. The Scary Places Map Book by B.G. Hennessy. Not your average travel guide, this terrifyingly tempting book leads adventurous readers on seven terrifying tours. Cruise the seven seas on the Ghostly Galleon, follow Hercules through the Land of Mythical Monsters, take a trip through Transylvania with Dr. Frankenstein’s assistant, Igor, or venture through the western Terror-tories, Wicked Woods, Nightmare House, or the Museum of Haunted Objects — but only if you dare. Ages 7-10. The Jaguar Stones: The River of No Return by J & P Voelkel. Action-adventure fans of Percy Jackson and Harry Potter will thrill over this new series focusing on Mayan history. Seth (age 11) says, “This book is amazing. I never wanted to put it down!” With Mayan death lords, mysterious underground hotels and mutant cave spiders, Max Murphy and his Mayan friend Lola venture on a journey where the action never stops. Ages 9-14. Every Day by David Levithan. What if every day you woke up in a different room, in a different body, living the life of someone else — for 24 hours? Such is the life of “A,” until one day, “A” meets Rhiannon and decides living life through the eyes of others is no longer enough. This incredible book will grab your attention, tempt you with possibility and not let you go until the very end. Ages 14-Adult. PS Compiled by The Country Book Shop


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The Companion Animal Clinic Foundation Presents The 7th Annual

Saturday, October 27 Pinehurst Fair Barn 7:00 pm - 10:00 pm Music by Suckerpunch Catering by White Rabbit

Dinner, Dance, Auction & Costume Contests Tickets $45

$50 at the Door

online: www.companionanimalclinic.org or at Artistic Kitchen & Baths 279 W. Pennsylvania Ave., Southern Pines or Call 855.439.3498 Benefit for Spay Neuter Veterinary Clinic

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

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h i tt i n g h o m e

Good Clean Entertainment

By Dale Nixon

Now, don’t get me wrong when you read this

article. I’m not a prude. I enjoy some forms of adult entertainment, know when to laugh at the punch line to a risqué joke and have read the Fifty Shades trilogy by E. L. James. But enough is enough.

I WANT SOME DECENT, GOOD, CLEAN, FAMILY ENTERTAINMENT. Recently, I suffered from a virus and took to my bed for a couple of days. I channel-surfed for hours on end and other than a few of some older re-runs, I couldn’t find anything to watch. A lot of the material that television moguls are pumping out and shoving down our throats is garbage. They should have their minds washed out with soap. They maintain they’re giving the majority of the people what they want. How dare them blame poor taste on me. I find it hard to imagine that the majority of the people actually enjoy hearing foul language, watching a hatchet murder, viewing a rape scene or listening to a dialogue written by someone who enjoys all of the above. To make matters worse, our children are witnesses to this trash. Young minds are sharp and they’re quickly learning the baser side of life. When I was young, my parents had the privilege of telling me about the “birds and the bees.” That privilege is now in the hands of production companies and their reality shows. And if I had used one word of the deplorable language I am hearing on these shows, I wouldn’t be here to write this column today. Someone should sit down with the television executives and point

out the fact that The Cosby Show was No. 1 in the Nielsen ratings for years and that the beloved Andy Griffith Show is still playing reruns after more than forty years. These shows were popular because they offered DECENT, GOOD, CLEAN, FAMILY ENTERTAINMENT. Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz and Laura and Rob Petrie each slept in twin beds. I agree that times have changed since then and that after a certain age, Bambi loses its appeal. But something’s wrong with an entertainment industry that prides itself on the Mafia Wives, Jersey Shore (do you want Snooki teaching your child the facts of life?) and yes, even The Bachelor (how many girls can one man cavort with in a hot tub?) Is the Real World really the real world? Coco Chanel would turn over in her grave if she watched our current television shows. The fashions are as vulgar as the programming. I really don’t think any of the young girls on television wear underwear. How can they wear their clothes hanging off their shoulders, slit up to their waist, down to their thighs, or boast their backless dresses and wear any underwear? There’s not a lot of front to the front of their blouses or dresses either. The young men wear jeans that are so loose, I don’t know how they can walk, or so tight, I don’t know how they can walk. Very little is left to the imagination. Very little is left out of sight. Television moguls, there are those of us around who still enjoy DECENT, GOOD, CLEAN, FAMILY ENTERTAINMENT. Give it a try. The ratings may surprise you. Shall I pass the soap? PS Columnist Dale Nixon may be contacted at dalenixon@carolina.rr.com.

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

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


C oo k at l a r g e

Spooked by Eggplant A walk on the dark side of the garden

Robert VanderVoort of Half Acre Farm sells his eggplants and prepared foods, including eggplant caviar, at the farmers market.

By Deborah Salomon

Poor eggplant.

Photograph By Cassie Butler

Never has any vegetable (except, perhaps, Brussels sprouts) suffered such injustice. By promoting parmigiana, the Italians, who ordinarily deify produce, created a monster so fat-laden as to be shunned by nutritionistas.

Say it isn’t so . . . because it isn’t. True, eggplant guzzles oil like a ’57 Buick. But the cellular structure that predisposes absorption guzzles other liquids like broth or tomato juice, as well. One cup of cubed raw eggplant: 20 calories. Cooked in a spritz of oil and a few tablespoons broth: 40 calories. Then, the nightshade misunderstanding. Eggplant is a nightshade vegetable, something Stephen King might cultivate. The smooth, silky skin oft compared to a baby’s bottom feels other-wordly. The shape is sensual, the deep purple hue, mysterious. Fashion colorists use the French word, aubergine, which floats off the tongue like an Edgar Allan Poe refrain. But tomatoes, potatoes, peppers and tobacco are nightshades also. These plants contain alkaloids that may affect the joints and nervous systems of hyper-sensitive individuals. Other fears need allaying. Some recipes suggest salting cut eggplant to remove bitterness — a good idea for a nasty old specimen with dark seeds. But if the eggplant is firm, fresh, moderately sized and young with pale seeds, don’t bother. Eggplants come in a variety of shapes and sizes, from slim, dappled violet

Asians (guaranteed mild and sweet) to rotund white to segmented black. Globe — “dinosaur eggs” — is the supermarket standard. Robert VanderVoort of Half Acre Farm in Southern Pines sells “Italians” (smallish globes) at the farmers market. “They love our sandy soil and they don’t like cold,” VanderVoort says. “None of mine are bitter.” He plants late to avoid flea beetles. The problem was convincing shoppers to buy them, especially when he brought several varieties, which caused confusion. Instead, VanderVoort made eggplant caviar: peeled eggplant cooked and mashed with lemon juice, garlic, olive oil, salt, pepper and pumpkin seeds. “You can taste the eggplant better than in baba ghanoush,” he says. One thing’s sure: Your Tar Heel granny didn’t serve eggplant alongside the fried chicken at Sunday dinner. However, its velvety texture and musky flavor along with enticing preparations — baba ghanoush, ratatouille, caponata — trend eggplant off the menu and into the kitchen. To peel, or not to peel? Depends on the desired result. Eggplant holds together better unpeeled but the skin is chewy. Start with a simple steam sauté: Peel several small eggplants and cut into chunks. Film a large nonstick skillet with olive oil; heat to medium-hot. Add eggplant cubes and stir with a wooden spoon until they begin to brown. Reduce heat to medium-low, pour in a 1/2 cup of chicken stock and cover skillet. Stir every few minutes until eggplant is tender, adding more liquid if necessary. Remove cover, raise heat and allow liquid to evaporate. Sprinkle eggplant with fresh basil ribbons and shaved Parmesan. Serve warm. Now, blend Mediterranean flavors: Select several firm, unblemished, medium-sized eggplants with glossy skin, no shrivels. Peel or not. Cut crosswise ½into 1/2 inch slices; cut slices into quarters. Spray a baking pan with

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

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C oo k at l a r g e

How do you want to retire?

olive oil. Arrange pieces in a single layer. Strew pan with grape tomatoes and chopped sweet onion. Spray lightly with oil, sprinkle with salt and roast at 375 degrees, stirring occasionally, until eggplant is soft. Liquid released by eggplant and tomatoes compensates for more oil. When almost done, press a garlic clove or two over the vegetables and stir. As they cool, sprinkle with additional sea salt, black pepper and a few drops of balsamic vinegar. Serve warm or at room temperature with crackers or rounds of artisanal baguette. Fancy up the mixture by adding pitted, oil-cured kalamata olives and capers along with the garlic. For a sensational autumn antipasti, mound the roasted combo beside imported sardines on a dark curly lettuce leaf. Sardine haters can substitute paper-thin slices of spicy Italian salami. A few feta crumbles wouldn’t hurt. Don’t close down the grill without doing eggplant burgers, the vegetarian’s reward. Marinate thick round slices in bottled Italian or Greek salad dressing or brush with barbecue sauce. Grill over coals until soft and slightly blackened. Add a slice of gouda or havarti for a “cheeseburger.” Lavish with condiments; serve on a toasted Kaiser roll. Where’s the beef? Who cares? Halloween draws nigh. The nightshades await.

Eggplant and Rice Dressing Sheri Castle, Chapel Hill resident and author of The New Southern Garden Cookbook, admits that eggplant is her least favorite vegetable. “But I like the smaller ones that have a texture similar to zucchini,” Castle says. Her book, awarded Cookbook of the Year by the Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance, celebrates hundreds of vegetables. Her eggplant choice originated with Cajun food writer Marcelle Bienvenu. Bienvenu explained to Castle that this “dressing,” similar to dirty rice, is actually a sturdy stove-top main dish not associated with holiday turkey. Sounds perfect for a cool October evening, apres football or even trick-or-treating: 1 tablespoon vegetable oil 12 ounces lean ground pork 12 ounces lean ground beef 1 large yellow onion, chopped (about 2 cups) 2 celery stalks, chopped (about ½1/2 cup) 1 medium green bell pepper, cored and chopped (about ½1/2 cup) 6 cups peeled bite-sized eggplant cubes 1 cup chicken stock or water 1 teaspoon kosher salt or more to taste 1/2½ teaspoon ground black pepper, or more to taste 3 cups hot, freshly cooked long-grain rice 1 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme 2 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley ½1/2 teaspoon hot sauce, or to taste Heat oil in large, heavy pot over medium heat. Add beef and pork and cook, stirring often, until the meat is no longer pink, about 15 minutes. Stir in the onion, celery, bell pepper and garlic. Cook, stirring often, until the vegetables begin to soften, about 5 minutes. Stir in the eggplant, stock, salt and pepper. Cover pot and simmer, stirring occasionally, until eggplant is very soft and tender, about 30 minutes. Coarsely mash eggplant with a fork or back of spoon. Stir in the hot cooked rice, thyme and parsley. Season with more salt and hot sauce. Serve warm. PS

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

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


V i n e W i sdo m

The Taste of Autumn A little “punk” in your beer?

By Robyn James

It’s perfectly

clear in the alcohol industry that craft beers are all the rage. Flavored beers are quite the cachet with breweries offering any imaginable flavor from coffee to elderberry.

Photograph By Cassie Butler

But, the one flavor that outshines them all is far and away: pumpkin. I don’t have the answer to the pumpkin beer phenomenon; we Americans aren’t generally that crazy about this flavor except for an occasional slice of Thanksgiving pie. You never see pumpkin candy, pumpkin soda, pumpkin chips or pumpkin lip gloss. Nope, we don’t want it. But, pumpkin beer? That’s a whole ’nother story. The special orders for pumpkin and Octoberfest beers start stacking up in July. By the beginning of September, the frenzy begins. Our truck drivers start telling stories about people following their trucks to see if they are unloading their favorite fall libation so they can grab it before the driver can even roll it into the store. The North Carolina distributor for Dogfish Punkin Ale sold out in two hours, a 2,400-case record. If you buy your own home kegerator, you can probably snag a five-gallon keg of it to take home and relish for some time! Here are some of the more popular pumpkin and Octoberfest ales. DOGFISH PUNKIN ALE, DELAWARE This particular ale is named after a traditional Delaware extravaganza called The Punkin Chunkin Event, whose slogan is “We’re Gonna Hurl!” Delaware residents apparently get very excited about exploding pumpkins out of cannons and other devices. This is definitely the most popular of the pumpkin beers and disappears from the shelf quickly. A very full-bodied brown ale, it is brewed with pumpkin meat, organic brown sugar and spices. It pairs well with turkey, roasted duck, lamb, and sharp cheddar.

UINTA PUNK’N HARVEST PUMPKIN ALE, UTAH Uinta, an organic brewery in Utah, brags about a new bottle they designed that is referred to as the “compass bottle.” It’s branded by a 360-degree compass embossed into the bottle’s shoulder. The upshot? You’ll never get lost with a Uinta bottle in hand! The bottle cap has a compass on it too, just in case you have so many Uintas that you need two compasses to find your way home. They didn’t say that, I did. Their Punk’n has malt and hops accented with roasted pumpkin and spices of the season. A subtle hint of vanilla and honey. It’s a wonderful complement to foods with nutmeg, cinnamon and clove flavors. Try it with pumpkin ravioli, peach cobbler or pumpkin cheesecake. SAM ADAMS OCTOBERFEST, BOSTON Far and away, the most famous Octoberfest beer, Sam Adams, in my opinion, is the grandfather of the craft beer rage. Their Octoberfest blends together five roasts of malt to create a delicious harmony of sweet flavors including caramel and toffee. The malt is complemented by the elegant bitterness imported by the Bavarian Noble hops. It has a nice, reddish amber color with a thick off-white head. NEW BELGIUM HOPTOBER GOLDEN ALE, COLORADO This brewery, like Uinta, seriously prides itself on its environmentally and sustainable friendliness. They advertise this beer as “a veritable cornucopia of the Earth.” Pale and wheat malt are mashed with rye and oats to create a medium-bodied ale with a creamy mouthfeel. Five different hops form a bonfire of citrus notes, fruity cheers and a bold finale. The hops hits you up front, but it goes down smooth with a little aftertaste from the hops. It’s a pretty, refreshing autumn beer, a good way to transition from the crisp summer ones into the typically darker, warmer beers of the fall. 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 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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S p i r i ts

Whiskey in the Wind Our most American spirit

By Frank Daniels III

One of the best things about

cocktails is that they are surrounded by lore, not history.

So, as we have been recently teased by cooler evenings, and can see hunting season on the horizon, our attention swivels from cocktails that cool us down to those that warm our souls. Yes, it is time for a little whiskey. As we head into fall, the Manhattan cocktail stands as a perfect way to begin an evening, or to end a long working day. Classic cocktails should have a good backstory, and the Manhattan lives up to its billing. Lore has it that the Manhattan was created in 1874 for Winston Churchill’s mother, Lady Randolph Churchill, at the Manhattan Club in New York City, where she was attending a dinner for New York Gov. Samuel J. Tilden. Like many 19th century American cocktails, the original used rye whiskey, and a good rye Manhattan is wonderful; but most prefer the sweeter note of Kentucky Straight Bourbon, or Tennessee Whiskey. With the excellent choices available you can experiment; and don’t be put off by a purist declaring that you can’t use a fine whiskey in a cocktail. Spoil yourself; you’ve either earned a little spoiling, or need some. The proper Manhattan has a wonderful translucence that evokes thoughts of foliage and football, of cooling evenings and quiet conversation in front of the fire with good friends. Great ingredients make great cocktails, and a little upgrade in ingredients makes this version of a Manhattan the perfect autumn accessory. Splurge on one of the sweet (Italian) vermouths that have made their way into our market and your Manhattan will shine. Three of the more interesting sweet vermouths to try are Dolin, Punt e Mes, and the fabulous, and expensive, Carpano Antica. The fruit in each of these, though different, is worth the extra expense.

To achieve this translucence, never shake a Manhattan. Combine the ingredients in a mixing glass or pitcher with ice and stir gently until the glass is cold to the touch; stir too vigorously and the vermouth will become cloudy. And for those of us who just don’t want to let go of summertime, I asked Greg Davis, master distiller for Maker’s Mark, for his go-to summer whiskey drink. His Summer Breeze will blow some sunshine into a fall afternoon.

Manhattan

2 ½1/2 oz. Kentucky Straight Bourbon (Maker 46) 3/4¾ oz. Sweet (Italian) vermouth (Carpano Antica) Dash Angostura bitters Maraschino cherry Pour the ingredients into a mixing glass filled with ice. Stir gently until well chilled. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass, garnish with cherry.

Greg’s Summer Breeze

1 ½1/2 oz. Makers Mark (more for a stronger breeze) Splash orange liqueur Top with Ginger ale Orange slice In a rocks glass three-fourths filled with ice, pour the whiskey and orange liqueur. Fill the glass with ginger ale. Garnish with an orange slice. PS Frank Daniels is an editor and writer living in Nashville, Tennessee, and the author of Frank’s Little Black Bar Book, available at The Country Bookshop. Contact him at fdanielsiii@mac.com.

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

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out of the blue

A Sum of the Parts

Come sweet October and colors in a minor key

By Deborah Salomon

Sometimes people

seem to be composed of tiny chips activated by a keystroke at birth. The keys control preferences for colors, seasons, songs, foods. Strike the right combination and a hologram appears on the screen. You.

Furthermore, since combinations are endless, no two people turn out exactly alike: The snowflake principle. Nobody knows what activates these chips. Is it nature or nurture? Genes or environment? Why does one person love licorice and another despise it? Are you an early bird or a night owl? White meat or dark? This mysterious programming applies to what was once called love. Now, we call it chemistry. See?

R

I think about this every October. In my Shangri-La, October lasts forever. The leaves are always yellow, orange and red — the sky a deep blue without humidity or haze. This happens best in the mountains. October needs maples and oaks, which start to color by late September. In October I want to be in western North Carolina or Vermont. I have been happy there, in October — happier than any other month, any other place. The air was fresh and cool. I wore corduroy, flannel and, for the first time since May, socks. True, days are shorter but more intense, like double-distilled spirits. Energy comes roaring back along with an appetite for cider doughnuts, unthinkable in June. Enjoy, because November looms. Photograph By Cassie Butler

R

Colors grow with you. My childhood chips were soft green and dusty rose — don’t call it pink. My mother would never buy anything pink. Nursing home parlors done in rose and wish-washy green florals make me squirm. They may be soothing, pretty and genteel but I escaped that palette with a few bruises. Next came blue and a bolder green which represented rebellion because I was taught they didn’t “go together.” Oh yes they did, shouted my house, expounding the forbidden juxtaposition. Next, navy blue and almond. When the painter refused to paint my kitchen ceiling navy blue I fired him. That midnight ceiling created a gorgeous backdrop for a creamy blown-glass light fixture. Next, bittersweet and gray. The bittersweet tired quickly, leaving me with gray. Gray is my color, fading to taupes and creams with lots of geometric prints, no flowers. Self-analysis suggests

that I love gray because my father bought me a gray dress with a white Pilgrim collar on a business trip. I loved that dress. I wore it when he took me — just me — out to dinner at a “supper club.” I was 9. But in fabrics I gravitate to orange and teal blue paisleys straight off a Russian shawl. Same with plaintive music in a minor key followed by a rousing chorus. Something organic happens when I hear Jason Mraz sing “Life is Wonderful.” Google it and hear my Eastern European keys being stroked. But I get a similar reaction to fiddlin’ Appalachian bluegrass echoing the maternal chip.

R

Morning is golden even before sunrise. I have risen at 5:30 a.m. my entire adult life. I exercise. I bake, fold laundry, feed the birds, squirrels and cats. I wear a fleece hoodie, drown in black coffee and the news. Nobody else is awake. In fact, that’s why I started cracking the dawn in the first place. The house was mine; the world was mine. Recently, I heard on the early-bird news that genetics may be the key(stroke) to political leanings. Sounds plausible. Parents contribute not only genes but the background music of childhood. Little ones who grew up on the Kennedy-Carter-Clinton lullaby probably lean toward Eyore, not Dumbo.

R

The keyboard that creates this hologram needs wiring. Make mine highspeed broadband. I am often early, never late. I pay bills the day they arrive, fret over tasks unfinished and can’t sit still for very long. The origin of this program is surmised but better not shared. Let’s just say Intel inside made me do it.

R

What’s gotten into this woman? Does she have a screw (note the low-tech mechanical image) loose? Has she become unplugged? Pixilated? Exactly — broken down into tiny chips, each conveying a message. That’s what deconstructions look like before they crash. If this sounds like so much technobabble remember that electric impulses regulate the heart and hypothermia decreases blood flow.

R

Back to October — not a strength of the Sandhills, which positively glows in April. No problem. In a few days I’ll get up extra-early, put on flannel and corduroy, fill my travel mug with decaf and aim my cursor for the hills. PS Deborah Salomon is a staff writer for PineStraw and may be reached at debsalomon@nc.rr.com.

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

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


Life of Jane

A Real Knockout It’s their party. But I’ll cry if I want to

By Jane Borden

Illustration By Meridith Martens

Resolved: If an impeccably

dressed woman knocks on the door of a midtown Manhattan high-rise apartment, but Aerosmith is playing inside so loudly that no one hears her, it did not make a sound. So I knocked again. No response. I rang the cellphone of the party’s host. It went to voice mail. I put my purse on the floor, along with the chilled bottle of rosé I’d brought, dug the heels of my beige leather boots into the hall’s wall-to-wall carpeting, crossed my fingers that no one would round the corner in the next ten seconds and then banged on the door with both fists so powerfully that my entire torso rocked from the momentum. Nothing. It was too ironic: a party so fun that its guests couldn’t get in to enjoy it. It was like if O.Henry had a Super Sweet Sixteen. I started to second-guess myself. Was this even the right party? Did I have the correct address? Had I time-traveled to a period in the future when knocking is no longer recognized as a call for entry? Wait, that last one isn’t possible — there’s no way people in the future still like the song “Love in an Elevator.”

n Encounter with the Worlds

Maybe I should just go home, I thought, but, instead, I swallowed my pride and waited because, musical choices notwithstanding, this was going to be a fabulous party. I was on the forty-third floor of a swank Fifth Avenue tower just south of Central Park. How often can one sip a highball while surveying all of midtown through floor-to-ceiling windows? Doing so would help me forget that I’m poor; that I’ve chosen a career which will never land me here; that when I looked through the windows of where I used to live in New York, all I saw was the empty lot across the street where prostitutes brought their Johns. Damn it, I just wanted to pretend — for one night — that I was rich enough to be a John. Also, I’d taken a cab there, so I couldn’t go home until I’d had $18 worth of fun. “Workin’ like a dog fo’ ‘de bossman! / Whoa-oh! / Workin’ fo’ ‘de company! / Whoa-oh ye-ah!” The call-and-response lyrics sounded funny seeping through the foyer of a home so obviously belonging to the bossman. “Ugh!” I said aloud, mostly to the party gods but also to the bottle of rosé, which I decided to name Rosie in honor of Wilson the volleyball from the film Cast Away. I picked her up and said, “Looks like it’s just you and me, pal.” She responded by dripping condensation on my boots. It was time to strategize. As a rousing homage to public, anonymous sex, “Love in an Elevator” contains few quiet lulls. But one part is at least a cappella: “Go-ing Dow-owow-ow-ow-ow-own.” I waited patiently and then, on the lyric’s cue, banged until my knuckles were white. I knocked so loudly that I couldn’t at first detect the sound of everyone else singing along inside. Again, no one had heard my wooden cries. I grew despondent. I imagined all of my friends having fun without me, miming the lyrics, slowly squatting as if in a real elevator, pretending to push buttons to floors I’d never visit.

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

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


Life of Jane

Then I turned bitter. I mean, what if I were Jesus? What if I were Jesus in disguise, and I’d come to test their hospitality the way Zeus did with that elderly couple in Greek mythology? Actually, strike that. What if I were Steven Tyler? What if he just happened to be in the building and had decided to stop by and find out who was rocking his sounds so deafeningly? Sorry, fictional Steven Tyler, you’ll never know. “Gonna be a penthouse pauper! / Whoah-oh! / Gonna be a millionaire! / Whoa-oh ye-ah!” I checked my watch: Only a few minutes had passed and I was already perspiring. It was just so quiet and clean out there: no cracks in the paint, no Christmas tree needles in the corners, no Latino couples screaming next door. Suddenly I felt like an impostor in my Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress. Although I grew up in a world of blouses, slacks and fine wines, I now spend my life in jeans, sneakers and dive bars. The DVF is part of a small subsection of my wardrobe, which was subsidized almost exclusively by my mother’s generosity, and which is drafted from its dry-cleaning sheathes when I need to appear as if still living in the world of blouses and slacks. I wear them when I hang out with people who carry things like lip gloss in their purses, who carry things like purses. I wondered if I ought to just go home, slip into my Adidas and listen to obscure indie rock. Otherwise, someone might find me the next day, passed out in a hallway, spooning an empty bottle of wine and showing my Spanx. “Seriously, dude, where’s our pizza?” I heard a male voice say from the other side of the door. Hooray! I was saved: The pizza guy was coming! Then I realized that surely Dominos had already been, knocked fruitlessly, and gone. Actually, I’m surprised I hadn’t found a skeleton outside the door wearing a uniform and still gripping the box in its bony hands and . . . The door opened. “Dude, where’s our — oh, hey Jane. What are you — ? Have you been waiting out here?” “No! Heh, heh, I just arrived,” I responded and walked inside while surreptitiously twisting the deadbolt so the door wouldn’t click shut again. “Cool,” he said, and, noticing the song had ended, added, “Be right back.” I walked into the kitchen and allowed myself one small triumphant smile, knowing I’d gotten away with some ruse. And then, while locating the corkscrew (sorry, old chum), I heard the opening bars of “Love in an Elevator” rumble back into my life. “HM, mm, MM, mm, MM, mm. Hm, MM, mm, MM, mm, MM, mm.” I looked down at Rosie and — I swear to Steven Tyler — she winked. PS Jane Borden is a North Carolinian and the author of the highly-acclaimed memoir, I Totally Meant To Do That, available at The Country Bookshop. PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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


B IR D WA T C H

American Crow Long associated with the dark arts, isn’t it time we appreciated this smart, powerful bird

By Susan Campbell

The crow is an often

maligned bird that has even been feared by some. It is both smart and sneaky. Historically, both ravens and crows were considered a bad omen: commonly associated with witches. Groups are still referred to as “murders.” Today the species remains the bane of farmers, being a large bird with a big appetite that tends to arrive by the dozens.

Our common, year-round crow is the American crow. However, for a good part of the year we also have fish crows in the area. They, too, breed here but move east (and probably south) in the fall in large groups. Interestingly, they are one of the first migrants to return to the Sandhills by early February. Although not noticeably different, fish crows are a bit smaller than their American cousins and have not a one but a two-syllable call that is a very nasal “a-ah.” And as their name implies, these birds are drawn to wetter environments where they may feed upon the remains of fish and other aquatic creatures. Crows are more scavengers than they are predators. They will take advantage of defenseless young birds and animals but are more likely to be found picking at prey left by others or feeding on road kill. They lack the talons and raptorial grip of hawks and owls. Their bills are very strong, however. Crows can bite, tear and dig through a variety of materials. For these birds, their vision is the sharpest of the senses. Around our lake they will seek out female turtles laying eggs and will wait until the nest is complete and the female has crawled off in order to make a meal of the eggs buried in the soil. Even though the turtle

will rearrange the vegetation or leaf litter to disguise the nest’s location, the crows are not fooled. Not only do they possess tremendous visual acuity, crows have demonstrated the ability to remember familiar patterns, such as the faces of people who feed them, or, conversely, those who harass them. In feeding experiments not only did American crows remember where food was hidden, but how to predict where it might be found in a particular sequence. They have also been recorded using tools: deliberately manipulating sticks with their bills to pry insect prey from cracks and crevices. For large birds, crows’ nests are well concealed. In our area, they may utilize abandoned hawk or squirrel nests. When creating a nest from scratch, it is a stick-built affair, hidden at the very top of a tall pine. The only hint of its location tends to be parents chasing away intruders. A soaring hawk that is being jabbed at or a squirrel being pursued as it makes its way from tree to tree are pretty good indicators. But finding the exact spot may take some doing, especially if there are young in the nest, and parents are making frequent trips in and out. American crows often gather in loose aggregations to breed. Two or three nests may be close to one another. That results in not only better protection but more eyes on the look-out for food resources. Also, adolescents, young from the previous year, may act as helpers during their first spring. It comes as no surprise that crows tend to be rather successful breeders. Thanks to our gardens, hen houses, bird feeders and compost piles, humans are a major source of food for crows. Given their patience and perseverance, they have figured out how to take advantage of us. Maybe the time has come for us to step back and appreciate them for the amazing creatures that they are. Susan would love to hear from you. Send wildlife sightings and photos to susan@ncaves.com or call (910) 949-3207.

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

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


T h e spo r t i n g l i f e

Arctic Interlude

Deep in the northern wilds, a man and his dog find beauty and challenge

By Tom Bryant

It was a mistake. He knew it the min-

ute he had committed himself. Too late to turn back. A stupid mistake that could mean real trouble. One that he knew better than taking and one that he should not have made. This one could cost him his life.

The squall had come quickly, faster than any he had been in before. It roared out of the south catching him about mid-lake, he figured. He had just enough time to climb into the middle of the canoe and hunker down, knees to the floor, spreading his weight as low in the boat as possible. The only good thing was that he was lightly loaded and the wind was quartering from the south in such a way that enabled him to surf the waves. He hoped that the wind would hustle him closer to the shoreline where he would have a little more control. The lake was four or five miles across, and the way back along the shore to the camp was probably three times that, thus the decision to take a chance; and unlike others he had taken in the past, this one had pretty big stakes. The water was cold and grey and blowing whitecaps, colder than any lake water he had ever seen. What the hell, he thought. You are above the Arctic Circle. What did you expect, palm trees? I should have stayed along the shore. Tired, I guess, and in a hurry to get back to base camp and some real chow. His neck was hurting from constant turning to watch for rogue waves that could swamp the canoe. His paddle was in the water continuously, bracing, or prying, to be ready for the next black swell that could take them

under. His yellow dog was as low in the boat as he was, recognizing in her own instinctive way the trouble they were in. “Hold on there, Mackie, here comes a big one. Whoa,” he said as he leaned as far out of the canoe as he could for a paddle brace to help the boat stay upright. “Shipped a little water on that go round, old girl.” Over the past few days, he had started talking to his dog a lot more than he had ever done before. “We’ll have to bail in a few minutes if these seas will hold.” Then the rain hit, mixed with snow, colder than the black lake water. “Now this is adding insult to injury,” he said out loud. “Give me a break!” Thankfully, the rain and snow mixture did have a flattening way with the whitecaps and seemed to calm them a little, giving him time to grab his bailing bucket and slosh some water out of the boat. It was a good canoe, an Old Town Tripper, built for lake paddling and big loads. It had a depth of free board that would keep them out of trouble in most normal situations. “Mackie, I think I see trees,” he exclaimed, and sure enough, low growing aspens along the shore came into view and the lake seemed to slow and calm and lay down in that smooth way that had tricked him into taking the short cut. He leaned back on the stern seat exhausted and let the gentle waves push the boat onto the shore. Mackie leaped out of the canoe as if she hadn’t seen land in weeks, although the lake crossing had only taken a couple of hours. He collapsed in the stern breathing hard knowing that he had dodged a real bullet. After a few minutes, he stepped out of the boat on the sandy, rocky beach and stood for a time just looking out over the lake. “Great, good God almighty,” he said aloud to Mackie and the gulls that were circling close to the boat. “That one was close.”

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

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ouR LoCAL CoLoR doESN’t b E g I N i n t h E FA L L . I t b E g I N S wIth a NEIghboRhood F u L L o f FA S C I N At I N g P E o P L E .

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


T h e spo r t i n g l i f e

He walked up on shore to a higher hummock and sat, then lay back and watched the grey sky. It never changes, he thought. It’s bright or grey or black. Damn, this is a wild, forsaken land. I love it. After a bit, he stood and stretched. It felt good to be on firm ground but he knew that he had to get to base camp before dark. There was a lot to do before Larkin and the plane came to haul them back to civilization. He whistled up his dog and they got back in the canoe, knowing that food was waiting not that far around a few more watery bends. The lake had settled and was slick and black as skim ice. It was hard to believe how rough it had been just a little while ago. The north sun was going down faster and the days were getting noticeably shorter. I need to check the hours of daylight, he thought, as he pushed the canoe in the cut where he had made base camp. His dog ran up the little hill out of sight toward where he and Larkin had pitched the wall tent. He dragged the boat up on land, looked to the west as the sun settled in a grey-white nothingness and walked slowly over the rise. He couldn’t ever remember being this tired. After feeding his dog, he poured a can of beef stew into a pot and put it on the little Primus cook stove. It’s a good thing Larkin will be here in two days, he thought. Chow is getting low. He went outside the big tent and stomped the stew can flat, put it in his dump sack and hauled it back up the tree. The dump sack was bigger than the duffel where he kept the rest of his food. He spooned the beef onto a tin plate, pulled a couple dried biscuits from his diminishing stash and ate supper. After cleaning the dinner dishes, he went outside and started the fire that he had laid before the long reconnoitering trip around the lake. He pulled his camp chair closer to the heat. The air was colder since the day three weeks ago when Larkin had landed his beaver plane on the unnamed lake.

Larkin was real proud of his school bus yellow de Havilland Beaver sixseater floatplane. “If I can load her up and she still floats, she’ll fly,” he said when he was asked about carrying the big green canoe. “We’ll just strap the boat on the landing pontoons and everything will be fine.” Mackie inched closer to the fire. “It’s getting colder, old girl. We’re gonna need all the blankets tonight.” He filled his cup with the last of the coffee and thought about his pilot and how excited Larkin was going to be when he told him about what he had found on his trip around the lake. On this adventure, one of many in his life, there was a chance of real rewards if everything worked. It required two things: an honest, trustworthy pilot who knew the northern tundra, and most of all, one who could keep silent about what was possible. Larkin was the pilot he chose. The aurora borealis lighted up the Arctic sky with colors that made him feel infinitely smaller in this great empty land. He went into the tent and filled his Sierra cup with Scotch from an almost empty bottle. He had one bottle left that he was saving to celebrate with Larkin. He poured in a splash of water from the water bucket, got a dog biscuit for Mackie and went back to the fire. He put on a couple more logs and reclined in the camp chair. The sky had cleared and, as the northern lights faded, the great Milky Way stretched across the horizon. “Mackie, we are indeed one lucky pair.” Fifty miles to the south in a deep canyon at the foot of one of the Ogilvie Mountains was a smashed, school bus yellow plane. The pilot was hanging lifeless from the side window. Snow slowly drifted over the mangled hulk. PS Tom Bryant, a Southern Pines resident, is a lifelong outdoorsman and PineStraw’s Sporting Life columnist.

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

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October 2012 P������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art Enjoy & Soul ofResponsibly the Sandhills ® © 2012 Shock Top Brewing Co., Shock Top Belgian-Style Wheat Ale, St. Louis, MO


Go l f tow n J o u r n a l

The Dawn of a Profession The birth of the American society of golf course architects

The first annual meeting of The American Society of Golf Course Architects, December 5, 1947. Left to right: William P. Bell, Robert White, W.B. Langford, Donald Ross, Robert Bruce Harris, Stanley Thompson, William F. Gordon, Robert Trent Jones Sr., William Diddel, and J.B. McGovern. By Lee Pace

The first surgeons cut small, round

holes in a patient’s skull to “let out” the cause of a migraine headache. One doctor was known to amputate a leg in three minutes flat, the quicker to limit blood loss. Surgeons used turpentine and pitch to kill germs, opium and cocaine to kill pain.

Chinese merchants used the abacus to track their profits, and early American bankers used crude devices known as an arithmometer and a comptometer before the advent of the adding machine in the late 1800s. Cutting-edge engines from centuries ago harnessed the power of water flowing from a stream to a bucket to a trough to grind grain into flour. Imagine being there for the birth of an industry, the launch of a new profession. These ten men, gathered around the Putter Boy statuette outside the clubhouse at Pinehurst in the winter of 1947, represent the pioneers of the golf course architecture profession. Though trailblazers like Old Tom Morris, A.W. Tillinghast, Alister McKenzie, Charles Blair McDonald, Seth Raynor and others had established themselves as the forerunners in the art of taking raw ground

and turning it into interesting golf holes, these men were the first to convene and form an official professional organization. The American Society of Golf Course Architects was formed December 5, 1947, in a meeting at The Holly Inn. Later they convened outside the clubhouse at Pinehurst for this historical portrait; two men that you’re most likely to recognize are Pinehurst’s Donald Ross, fourth from the left, and Robert Trent Jones Sr., third from the right. Thirteen architects were approved for charter membership, with Robert Bruce Harris being named president and Jones secretary-treasurer. Throughout its history, the trade association for golf’s design community has paid frequent homage to Ross, a man considered the dean of early golf designers in the United States. Ross came to Pinehurst near the end of 1900 at the invitation of resort founder James W. Tufts, the plan being that Ross would teach the game, supervise the caddies, manage the golf shop, maintain the golf grounds, and suggest how the club’s inventory of 18 holes might be improved. In time, Ross concentrated on course design, building four courses at Pinehurst, three in Southern Pines, and several hundred more around the nation. The red plaid jackets worn by members at their annual meetings were designed in the Ross tartan and adopted in 1973. The Donald Ross Award was created in 1976 and is presented annually to a person who has made a significant contribution to the game of golf and has spotlighted the contributions of the architect. “I consider my Donald Ross Award to be my Heisman, my Oscar, my

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

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Go l f tow n J o u r n a l

This Fall’s most amazing

colors are on display at

The Cupola.

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Pulitzer, my Grammy,” said Golf Digest architecture editor Ron Whitten upon receiving his award in 1996. The group took its 1980 annual meeting to Dornoch, Ross’s home in Scotland, and for its fiftieth meeting in 1996, it returned to Pinehurst. One highlight of that gathering was a discussion headed by Pete Dye and Jack Nicklaus on why No. 2 was such a special place in golf. Nicklaus spoke of growing up playing Scioto Country Club, a Ross-designed golf course in Columbus, Ohio. “I always felt comfortable playing No. 2 because I was familiar with the look and feel of a Donald Ross course,” Nicklaus said. “It looks very natural, like it’s always been there, and can be played by every level of golfer. The greens will accept high shots if the course is wet and it’s been raining, but you can also bounce the ball into the greens if it’s dry and firm.” Nicklaus observed that trees along the fairways of No. 2 “didn’t come into play,” whereupon he was interrupted by the crusty Dye. “Maybe not for you, big guy, but they do for the rest of us,” Dye said to a round of laughter. Dye then told of frequent visits to No. 2 in the early 1940s from Fort Bragg and taking money from a colonel “who thought he knew how to play golf.” Dye said he was often asked why he frequently built a par-5, par-3 and par-4 as his finishing holes, and he pointed to No. 2’s closing configuration. “If it was good enough for Mr. Ross, it was good enough for me,” Dye said. Indeed, five of Dye’s most acclaimed golf courses conclude in a 5-3-4 pattern — the Ocean Course at Kiawah, the Stadium Course at PGA West, the Players Course at TPC Sawgrass, Whistling Straits and Oak Tree. Tom Marzolf, a design associate on the staff of Fazio Golf Course Designers, was ASCGA president in 2006 and brought the annual meeting to Pinehurst. Marzolf was the lead designer on the new No. 4 course that opened in 1999 and arranged a tournament with hickory clubs on that course. His connection to Pinehurst extends to attending golf camp at Pinehurst in 1973, and Fazio’s firm has done work of some sort on every course at Pinehurst except No. 7. “No. 2 has always been my favorite golf course,” Marzolf says. “From forty yards in, you can get a Ph.D. in golf course design by studying those greens and surrounds. It’s a special place.” The formative meeting of the ASCGA in 1947 included an address from Pinehurst’s Richard Tufts, who spoke about research the USGA was conducting on an ongoing basis into the issue of the length of ball flight. “We feel that a golf course is designed for a certain type of shot to the green, and that as you increase the length of the tee shot, you throw the golf course all out of scale,” Tufts said.

The Carolina Hotel Village of Pinehurst 910. 235.8474 pinehurst.com

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


Go l f tow n J o u r n a l

“Therefore, it spoils the pleasure of the play to have this continual increase in the flight of the ball. We feel that the question involves not only the ball but also the equipment of the game; that possibly the shaft has something to do with the increased length of the ball.” Tufts said that research by the USGA and ball manufacturers since 1942 had shown little increase in the properties of the ball that added to distance. “However, that doesn’t mean that it might not increase in the future,” Tufts said, gazing prophetically into his crystal ball. “It’s quite possible that improvements to the present ball have just about reached 100 percent efficiency under the present method of manufacture, but it’s quite possible that there might be improvements in plastics, or other material, that would greatly increase the flight of the present ball. We feel that it would be a very serious thing for the game, and we’d like the support of your association in maintaining the present ball.” When these ten men posed around the Putter Boy in 1947, the greens on Pinehurst No. 2 were covered in grainy Bermuda grass and required a wrist-driven putting stroke to pop the ball toward the hole. The second hole played 448 yards and required a 3-wood or 1-iron approach shot; the eleventh stretched 433 and it, too, required muscle and might and a low-running shot struck with little loft. Dye over the years scoffed at the idea that No. 2 was “subtle,” a term used often to categorize the course. He believed when Ross completed the design in the mid-1930s that he considered it extreme and tough and demanding of every ounce of power and precision the world’s best golfers could muster. In the late 1980s Dye marveled over the length that some in the U.S. Women’s Amateur were displaying — and this before graphite shafts, supersized driver heads made of titanium and the three-piece ball. Soon after, he completed an extensive lengthening of his course at Crooked Stick prior to the 1991 PGA Championship to attempt to save the original design characteristics in the face of longer and higher ball flights. “If Mr. Ross woke up and saw Brandie Burton, that young girl, stand on the first tee of Pinehurst No. 2 and knock a drive down there and hit a wedge to the first green, I wonder if he wouldn’t take the first tee, pick it up and put it in the parking lot,” Dye said. “I wonder if he was alive today, and he could see the great players play and how they play, if he thought a challenge was a drive and a long iron to a par-4, if he wouldn’t do like I did at Crooked Stick and modify the whole damn thing, to try to give these guys the same challenge that their peers had fifty years ago. I always wonder what he would do.” PS Lee Pace provides a behind-the-scenes look at the restoration of Pinehurst No. 2 in his new book, The Golden Age of Pinehurst, available this month. PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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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


Over For my father

October 2012

When Kelly flew over the farm with your ashes, the field waited, October light keen as a ploughman’s blade slicing through sod. When Kelly’s plane rose over loblollies, trailing its message — smoke, we knew you’d settled yourself into alfalfa stubble, eternally comfortable inside the dirt you had tilled. What a helluva way to come home, Daddy. Oh you knew all along what you wanted, a crop duster’s yellow plane diving so low the weeds shimmied, you floating down, in no hurry at last, to the earth you claimed always knew you better than you knew yourself.

— Kathryn Stripling Byer

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

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An old photograph captures a dusty cattle drive in 1989, from Lone Wolf to Layout Creek. LP Tate, Russell Tate and Jim Van Camp on hillside, Lisa Van Camp riding below.

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Gone West As friends from back home discover, a real cattle drive is about the wide open spaces and small comforts By Maureen Clark

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

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T

he friendship between a Southern lawyer, Jim Van Camp, and a young rancher, Hip Tillett, began with a handshake and a warm Montana welcome to the TX Ranch over thirty-five years ago. “I had seen an ad for the working ranch. It said ‘Don’t just go out West. Live it.’ I decided to give it a try,” Jim Van Camp remembers. He arrived in Montana on his Harley with teenage son Richie in tow. “I was struck immediately with the romance of it,” the attorney admits. Today Van Camp’s V3Bar branded cattle are mixed into the larger Tillett herd on the over 8,000-acre ranch straddling the southern Montana border west of the Big Horn River along the Pryor Mountain Range. Over the years, the strong bond that grew between the Tillett and Van Camp families has served as a bridge from Southern Pines to the West. Rattling off names of friends he has encouraged to sign on for the TX drives, Van Camp got to fifty pretty quickly. Tommy Howe from Pinebluff, June O’Connell, Betsy and Larry Best, George and Mickey Wirtz, Reg Miller are just to name a few. No one, however, took to moving and working cattle with more heart than the beloved Southern Pines horseman LP Tate. “I liked going out for the last drive of the season (taking the herd to a winter range in Wyoming),” Van Camp explains. “Hip would give me a call, then I would talk to LP. He would get on a plane and come every time.” Tate, who died last year, is revered locally as a founding personality of the Moore County equestrian community. Traces of his beautiful Starland Farm mark the golf course at Longleaf on Midland Road, a standing memorial to his part in the resort’s early history. “That first year, it was just me and Richie, and three more guests,” Van Camp recalls. He was introduced to the TX Ranch from a generation that took Montana from land grants to cattle ranges the hard way. The ranch has been in the Tillet family over a hundred years. Hip’s mother, Abe, was part Lakota Indian and could cook from a campfire like Julia Child in a gourmet kitchen. She was known for her sticky buns and blueberry pies. His grandmother Bessie delivered mail in the territory on a mule and told stories of running from Indians on the Crow reservation. In fact, the Custer battlefield lies a touch north, then due east with no interruption except the flow of the Big Horn River. The Tilletts were instrumental in donating land and establishing the Pryor Mountain Wild Horse Range described on Montana maps.

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Hip Tillett’s father, Lloyd, came up with the idea of guest ranching in the ’70s. Van Camp remembers the early setup. A few guests. No tents. They slept on the ground. No showers. “Once a week we took our horses out into the lake, about chest high, at the Beaver Dam and put our clothes up on the saddle. We bathed in the water. Put our clothes back on and rode out.” The conditions may have changed slightly, but the overall work of the ranch remains the same. The Tilletts’ home base in Lovell, Wyoming, is near Crooked Creek, the winter range for their 1,000 or so head of predominately Black Angus cattle. (In Montana, creek is pronounced and spelled “crick.” Natives know.) In April, the herd is moved into Montana for the spring and summer ranges. Before the cold sets in hard, October or November, there is a drive back to Lovell. During the intervening months the cattle are worked, section by section, in a series of roundups based from one of two camps, Lone Wolf or Deadman. The daily work involves first finding the cattle, who are happily spread out across the countryside, and then gathering them together for branding, tagging, castrating or inoculations as necessary. So what is the lure? How do the Tilletts draw “part-time cowboys” to their ranch, many of whom return year after year, for dust, hard work, long hours, a tent and outhouse, then ask them to pay for the privilege? A recent trip to TX with Van Camp’s daughter, Ashley, and his 14-year-old-grandson, Campbell Jourdian, provided insight. Ashley, the owner of the popular Ashten’s Restaurant in downtown Southern Pines, has been to TX more times than she can count. Son Campbell, an accomplished rider who fox hunts, and events, has been angling to go back all summer. “I don’t know how to explain it,” Ashley says. “But you’ll see. That outdoor shower (from the hanging, sun-heated plastic bag) will be the best shower you’ve ever had in your life.” On day one, Hip and his wife, Loretta, tall, blonde and sparkling with kindness, gathered their recruits from various hotels in downtown Billings. The couple embody a characteristic President Teddy Roosevelt once noted in cowboys: “They treat a stranger with the most wholehearted hospitality, doing all in their power for him.” The group of eighteen that pitched their gear into the waiting vehicles were from Sweden, Britain, Montreal, Oregon, Indiana, Virginia and Brooklyn. Six were returning veterans. While Campbell vied for a seat next to Hip on the way out so he could start negotiating for a spot as wrangler, Ashley commented knowingly, “By the end of the week you are going to love these guys.”

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


Photographs By Maureen Clark

Hip Tillett, cowboy and owner of TX Ranch

No electricity. No indoor plumbing. No cell coverage. PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Campbell pushing horses into corral at sunrise.

Campbell roping a horse in round pen for mother, Ashley Van Camp.

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ontana, like most of the western United States, is experiencing a drought. The ride from Billings, southeast to the range at the foot of the Pryor Mountains, took several hours going from a rustic two-lane highway to miles of dirt roads winding through gates and expanses of barbed wire fencing. Whorls of red dust marked the progress to Lone Wolf. Camp was a gathering of tents tucked under a spread of squat, box elder trees, a stick-built corral, log cabin with dining tables and kitchen, a deep spring-fed water tank, two outhouses, a campfire and two beach-type outdoor showers. Importantly, a stone-framed root cellar, dug into the side of a hill, provided cool storage for the food supplies, a critical feature of every Montana homestead or ranch built in the outlands in the last century. The perimeter was fenced in barbed wire to keep horses in and maybe whatever howled or roamed at night out. No electricity. No indoor plumbing. No cell coverage. The parallels to Billy Crystal and Jack Palance were inescapable, particularly as the group lined up the first morning to be interviewed by Hip and matched to a pair of horses that would be used on alternating days for the week. Campbell won his quest for the head wrangling spot. He slipped out of his tent in the darkness before dawn to bring the horse herd down from the pasture with the help of two outriders. By sunrise and breakfast an hour later, the herd would be thundering across the ridge and down into camp. Wrangling involves moving horses, not cattle. The Tillets keep about fifty-five horses shod, using about twenty each day. There are over one-hundred additional horses on the ranch in various stages of breeding, training and rest. With the herd stirring up dust in the corral, one by one Hip made his matches. Moving down the line, Hip, a permanent twinkle in his eye, and a curb on his ready wit, focused on pairing riders and horses. The man has what you might call Montana mettle, a steel and grit beneath the polite surface, that has been tempered by years of dealing with the elements. This year it is the drought. Last year it may have been an early winter, flood or injury. The first difference between Crystal’s film version and TX reality was the high comfort level of the riders with horses, although each came from a different equestrian background. And, secondly, the high quality of the horses in the Tillett herd. Sporting no-nonsense names like Cash, Gus, Biscuit, Chicken, Splat, Moose, Marble and Dirt, the horses did not bolt, kick, bite or display anything less than solid behavior all week. A smattering are named for Southern Pines friends like Russell (Tate) and Tommy

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Photographs By Maureen Clark

Campbell Jourdian from Southern Pines (left) bringing down a roped calf with help from Adam Cauldwell, Oxford, England.


Campbell moving through herd, roping calves.

Cash, Gus, Biscuit, Chicken, Splat, Moose, Marble and Dirt, the horses did not bolt, kick, bite or display anything less than solid behavior all week.

(Howe). A number of the horses came from Jim Van Camp, who enjoys going to the horse sales in Billings, the largest in the nation. Southern Pines native and Wyoming transplant Sam Morton, in writing about the horses of this area in southern Montana and northern Wyoming in his book, Where the Rivers Run North, describes them as “the best horses in the world. The grassland grows strong-boned, hard-footed, and long-winded horses. The horses raised here are tougher; they are fed from the land their ancestors grazed, and watered from the melted snow that flows from the mountains.”

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ip assigned a different section of the range each day for rounding up cattle. Some destinations were a three-hour ride. Campbell, trading his cowboy hat for a baseball hat turned backward, always took the longer rides and generally rode with ranch hand Pancho (Ryan Moody). By early afternoon, one or two o’clock, a large, milling herd was assembled. Lunch arrived by pickup truck. Then the work of branding, ear tagging and inoculating the younger calves began. First, however, the skittish critters had to be spotted, roped and thrown down. Hip’s daughter, Des, tall like her mother, beautiful, and a masterful roper, worked her way through the herd snagging calves by the back leg. Campbell teamed with a teenager from Oxford, England. Together, they would grab the tail, push the calf off balance, then hold down both ends for the work at hand. The task was proportionately difficult according to the size of the calf. The boys were matched in the dirt wrestling matches by the laughter, enthusiasm and pure spunk of two college coeds, Anna Paseka and Grace Littlefield, from Brooklyn, New York, appropriately dubbed the “A Team. “ The heat is dry, and a day on the range feels like slow baking in an oven. Several days the wind blew on the flats where the cattle were herded powdering every surface — faces, hats, horses — with a thick red dust. The functioning reason for every piece of cowboy garb and equipment from hat to

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

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Anna Paseka from Brooklyn, New York, concentrating on roping calves.

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Maureen Clark is a frequent contributor to PineStraw Magazine.

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Photographs By Maureen Clark

Ashley and Campbell in cattle pen full of afternoon dust, separating cows and calves.

spurs became explanatory. There was no shade during the day. A cowboy hat is a mini umbrella throwing down the only shade in a circle as wide as the brim. The bandannas keep sun off your neck, sweat off your brow and dust out of your nose and mouth. The long, needle-sharp thorns of hawthorne snag and untie a laced boot but not the western version. The thorns also rip shirts, cut hands and pierce blue jeans. Dense copses of hawthorne are the favorite hiding places of sneaky cattle. They stand still and you can ride right by. Flushing them out requires voice intimidation, then stick threatening, and lastly crawling under the thorny branches to chase them out. Unless, of course, the herding dogs are nearby, then life is sweet. The Tillets have three border collies and two Australian shepherds that are absolute wizards. Spurs, the clanging, boot clinging symbol of a cowboy, are also essential. Once the cow and calf are out of the underbrush, they can turn and sprint right back unless a horse can move quickly to cut them off. A touch of the spur signals the message quickly. Ashley believes that the sound of spurs clanging also serves to scare off bears when a cowboy has to step into the woods. The younger folks, in the evenings around the campfire, would practice roping. They roped chairs, rocks and each other in preparation for a chance to rope from horseback at week’s end. They all proved capable when the time came. The surprise superstar of calf roping, however, turned out to be a French dressage rider from Montreal, Brigette Charbonneau. Although she looked like a model who had walked right out of a western Ralph Lauren ad, she took instantly to roping. The seemingly impossible of catching the back hoof of a moving calf, hiding behind mom in a milling herd mixed with restless bulls, came easy. Throughout the dusty afternoon, the call of “Got one” consistently came from Brigette. Encouragement for all efforts at roping came from those on the perimeter, often in the form of cowboy trash talk. The laughter, the effort, the fun and pulling for each other bound the group together. Ashley was right. Like her father she is captured by the romance. Explanations of the magic are frustrating. The terrain is an opportunity to experience a breathtaking vista in every direction. The beauty is overwhelming with the Pryor Mountains on the horizon, hills and plains rolling toward the Big Horn in the other. The panoramic views are beyond the scope of a camera lense and words. The closest comparable in North Carolina would be the vast view of the Atlantic Ocean from the height of Jockey’s Ridge with a 360-degree spin around. Maybe, in the end, in a place where everything is big and awe inspiring, the sky, the horizon, the hills, the herds, the vistas and the land it is really about the small things after all: a warm shower, a good horse, a cowboy’s hospitality, the glow of a campfire, the time to make a friend, laughter and a steaming cup of coffee. “It’s a way of life,” Van Camp reflects. “And it is very real.” The most poignant memory from his years at TX was the funeral of Hip’s father, Lloyd Tillett. “He was the last of the real cowboys,” he said. “I will never forget that simple pine casket with handles made from turned around horseshoes. The TX brand was burned into the wood and tumbleweed was by his hat. It was so beautiful.” The little things. PS


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

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Three incomparable voices come home to the North Carolina Literary Hall of Fame By Ashley Wahl

Imagine the conversations that must have taken place here at Weymouth, the stately Georgian mansion that belonged to James and Katharine Boyd. Between sips of mint julep, a young William Faulkner surely would have spun wild tales about his boyhood jaunts in rural Mississippi. Or F. Scott Fitzgerald — filling his belly with gin — nattering half the night away about his batty wife, Zelda. Thomas Wolfe was also a frequent visitor, as were Sherwood Anderson, Paul Green, Maxwell Perkins, Lawrence Stallings and John Galsworthy. The Boyds loved to throw lavish parties, and in the 1920s and ’30s, their home was party central for their numerous friends — many of whom just so happened to be many of the South’s literary greats. Lucky for us the tradition continues. Today, in the upstairs study where James Boyd penned his famous novels, the North Carolina Literary Hall of Fame, a program of the North Carolina Writers’ Network, honors 50 Tar Heel authors, including Boyd, Wolfe, Green and former Poet Laureate Sam Ragan, who helped establish the NCLHOF in 1996. Visit the NCLHOF’s newly launched website, www.nclhof.org, and meet the writers for yourself. Hear the voices of O.Henry, Randall Jarrell and Doris Betts. Take a virtual tour of Tom Wolfe’s childhood home in Asheville. Watch D.G. Martin interview Lee Smith and Reynolds Price on UNC-TV’s North Carolina Bookwatch. Better yet, experience history firsthand at Weymouth. On Sunday, October 14, three new members will be inducted: nationally celebrated poet and memoirist Maya Angelou, former state Poet Laureate Kathryn Stripling Byer, and 18th century explorer and naturalist John Lawson. And you don’t have to belong to any sort of underground literary circle to attend the ceremony. “Everyone is welcome,” says Ed Southern, executive director of the North Carolina Writers’ Network, who considers the Hall of Fame ceremony “a rare and special opportunity to be part of something bigger.” Those familiar with the lives of Angelou, Byer and Lawson understand how remarkably different they are from one another. The same goes for the range of their literary achievements. But their distinctive voices are all part of the same cultural narrative — a never-ending story that tells of the rich and varied literary heritage of North Carolina. Byer will be there to accept this prestigious honor. Obviously Lawson, who was the first casualty of the 1711 Tuscarora War, will not. Angelou had made a prior commitment. “I’m delighted that my friend Ed Wilson will receive for me,” she says. Supposing that such a gathering could actually transpire — that, defying all logical boundaries of space and time, Angelou, Byer and

On Sunday, October 14, three new members will be inducted into the North Carolina Literary Hall of Fame (from top to bottom): poet and memoirist Maya Angelou, former state Poet Laureate Kathryn Stripling Byer and and 18th century explorer and naturalist John Lawson.

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

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Lawson could all be in the same place . . . Angelou, perhaps best known for her 1970 coming of age memoir, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, is also known to keep a bottle of sherry by her side as she writes. But let’s suppose they meet for tea. “Jasmine tea?” asks Byer, who says she makes a wonderful almond pound cake — yes, she’d bring it to the table. Byer studied with fellow Hall of Famers Allen Tate, Robert Watson and Fred Chappell at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. She hears the kettle whistling on her own stovetop. They could gather right here, says North Carolina’s first female Poet Laureate of her home, which is nestled in the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Or they could hike to the summit of Max Patch Bald, find a grassy knoll and let the beauty of nature envelope them. “There, you have a view of everything around you,” says Byer of the surrounding Balds, the Unakas, the Great Smokies, and the Great Balsams and Black Mountains. I expect Byer would bring a homemade quilt, and that Angelou, poised like a queen upon the surface of a smooth rock, would flash her gleaming smile between her poignant musings. How different things might seem to Lawson. “Did you come to know the spirit of the land?” Byer says she would ask him. His answer would be florid, just like his prose style. Perhaps he would share stories about the natives he encountered on his backcountry travels through the nascent Carolina colony. Or perhaps a patch of nearby wildflowers — or distant birdsong — would set him off and his descriptive genius would come to bear.

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If prompted, Angelou might recall the years of her childhood when she stopped speaking, and how, rising above trauma and racial oppression, she learned to let her soul sing. “That voice will prevail and rise again and again,” says Byer of Angelou, who serves as the Reynolds Professor of American Studies at Wake Forest University. “I would ask her how she has sustained the strength of her voice after all these years.” “We are more alike than unalike,” Angelou might say, as she so often does. Angelou might ask for Byer’s pound cake recipe. In addition to honoring the accomplishments of these three writers, Ed Southern explains, the NCLHOF ceremony will “celebrate what is happening now.” Byer’s newest book of poetry, Descent — which confronts memories most white Southerners would prefer to keep swept under the rug — will be released this fall, for instance. And expect the ceremony to celebrate North Carolina, which Doris Betts once pegged “the writingest state.” “I’m glad I live here,” says Byer. “Here, people sit on their porches and care about their gardens. There is something special about this place.” Angelou agrees. “When I’m on a plane approaching North Carolina, my shoulders go down, and I relax. I know I’m coming home.” PS The 2012 induction ceremony, which is free and open to the public, will be held Sunday, October 14 at 2 p.m. at the Weymouth Center for the Arts and Humanities. For more information, visit www.nclhof.org.

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Nina Campbell

Nina Campbell is one of the world’s most respected and influential interior designers. Her list of clients and design expertise is unparalleled. Renowned for her contagious wit and brilliant sense of style, her designs appeal to both young and old and sit well in both contemporary and traditional interiors.

Meet and hear her speak on Thursday, November 8, 2012 “Elements of Design” 11:00 a.m. Brunch/lecture and Book signing ($60 pp) Cocktails with Nina Campbell 6 – 8 p.m. ($85 pp) Held at The Weymouth Center 555 East Conn. Ave., Southern Pines

Tickets are available at

The Country Bookshop in Southern Pines or: www.companionanimalclinic.org This is a benefit for the Companion Animal Clinic Foundation’s Spay Neuter Clinic TVOEOPinestrawOct12_Layout 1 9/4/12 11:58 AM Page 1

327 SOUTH ELM | GREENSBORO 336.274.1278 | THEVIEWONELM.COM BECKY CAUSEY - LICENSED OPTICIAN

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The Welcome B

FiCTion By ruTh Moose

efore Martha Maude Henry knocked on the big white door, she straightened her hat. Her natural straw with the silk daisies and black velvet ribbon. She thought daisies always looked so perky and cheerful. Welcoming. She didn’t want anyone to ever say they had not been warmly welcomed when they moved to Mapleton. She tried to see herself in the small window beside the door, but it was thick with dust. Maybe whoever had moved in would be the kind of housekeeper to take care of that, but she doubted it. Nobody with any sense would buy . . . or rent . . . this monster of a house. Nobody in their right mind. Martha Maude took off her white gloves and knocked on the door. Not a hard knock, but not timid either. She’d perfected her knock over the years in this job. Firm, but not forceful. She waited, looked around. Missing boards on the porch floor. Terrible knotted vines where the porch swing used to be. This house had seen more Halloweens than most. She had her hand raised to knock again, when the door swung open with a loud moan. “Caught in the act,” Martha Maude laughed as she reached down and picked up her yellow basket with the perky bow on the handle. “I’m from the Mapleton Merchants Association,” she said. “Welcome.” She put out her hand, though most people taking it complained about the cold. “May I come in?” The woman in cut-off jeans and a flappy flannel shirt waved her arm. “Everything’s a mess. Me included.” Martha Maude was inclined to agree but said instead, “You’re perfectly fine.” The woman raked her fingers through her hair, which needed a good shampooing. They went into the living room or what might someday again be a living room, Martha Maude thought. This room, where she’d had more cups of tea than she could count, was now stacked with boxes. A single folding fabric chair sat in the center of the room facing the biggest television screen Martha Maude had ever seen. “Goodness,” she said. “Angie McGee,” the woman offered her hand, made a face, then rubbed it on her hip. “I’ve been scrubbing the tub. I’m sure you can tell.” Her nails had green goo under them, smudges on her wrist. “Sorry,” she said and indicated the chair. When Martha Maude was settled, Angie plopped to the floor beside her, sat cross-legged, began to pick the ragged paint on her big toe, polish that was long past a pedicure. “My dear,” Martha Maude said with a sigh, “This house needed you.” She had taken in the cracked plaster, the fine old wedding cake of a mantel over the black onyx fireplace someone had half painted gold. Merciful heavens, she patted her heart. Aunt Lula would die if she were to come back and see this

room, this house. “And I needed this house,” Angie said. “Took me long enough to find it.” “I hope you’re going to be happy here,” Martha Maude said. “I do hope so.” There had been happy moments in this house. So many, so many sad ones too. And happy, good people. She took a handkerchief from the front of her dress and blew her nose. “Dust getting to you?” Angie said. “I’m working on it, but I got a couple years’ worth to go.” Martha Maude reached in her basket and pulled out a coupon. “We have a few gifts of welcome for you. Curl Up and Dye offers $5 off on a perm, highlights, or color.” Angie took the coupon. “Lord knows I need it,” she raked through her hair again. Martha Maude saw grayish roots. Coupon couldn’t have come a moment too soon. “And a free pizza from Mario’s,” Martha Maude pulled out another coupon. “If you order a large first. If I were you, I’d skip the ham and mushroom though. He doesn’t refrigerate like I think he should and I’ve gotten moldy ham and mushrooms that tasted like the underside of a rock.” Her next coupon was for an oil change at Earl’s. Angie took the coupon, wiped a smudge off her cheek, fluffed her wrencolored hair. “The Sweet Stuff is the only bakery in town,” Martha Maude waved another coupon. “I do my own baking,” she said, “and so does everybody else in the book club. We just outdo ourselves when it comes time for the Books, Bake and Buy Sale. Dozens of cakes, every kind of pie in the world. And of course we take out ALL the calories in every bite.” She laughed. “If you get in a pinch and we always know who does, every time, Sweet Stuff does decent cheese straws.” Martha Maude and the other ten women in the Mapleton Book Club could detect a “bought” cheese straw at first bite, but they forgave Ginny Singleton, who couldn’t boil water without burning down the kitchen and she’d done that twice. “I don’t bake,” the woman said. “In fact, I don’t cook at all.” “My dear,” Martha Maude said, “Everybody cooks. You can’t run out for every meal.” “You can try,” Angie laughed. “Whatever do you use a kitchen for?” Martha Maude asked. She looked at the ceiling, which had been lowered and sheetrocked, and thought people ought to restore these older houses, not go changing them. High ceilings added so much dignity to a room. And kept the house cooler in summer. That’s what she told anyone who came to her house and noticed she didn’t have air conditioning. Not that she had all that much company. Still she kept her living room in perfect order. Hermon dusted it every day. That was one of his chores. He liked to think

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of dusting as one of his little jobs. Oh, it was so hard to find things he could and would do. Having a grown son still at home was a chore in itself, not that she wasn’t thankful for him, his presence in her life, but things could have been so different if only . . . she looked at the fireplace again. “Who cooks?” Angie asked. “You grab a Pop Tart or cereal bar on your way out the door, get lunch at the closest salad bar and wing by some drive-in on the way home. It’s easy.” She stood, coupons in hand, ready to show Martha Maude out. “I’ve got brochures from the two churches in town, used to be four. Now only First Baptist, First Methodist.” Martha Maude reached in her basket again. “Their doors are always open to newcomers, whatever your faith.” “My faith?” Angie stopped, looked at the brochures in Martha Maude’s hand. “Call me everything, everybody, nobody and nowhere. I learned a long time ago you get wound up like a tin toy, set on your path and you go till your spring winds down. No faith about it. No choice.” “Oh honey,” Martha Maude reached out and patted Angie’s shoulder. “What?” Angie unfolded her legs and stood squarely in front of Martha Maude’s chair. “Lady, you come in here to welcome me to this podunk town and try to rope me into going to some podunk church and I don’t even have my panties unpacked yet.” Martha Maude put her brochures back with a trembling hand. “I am so sorry. It’s just that the churches are one of my sponsors and part of my presentation and . . . ” “I didn’t invite you in.” “I know,” Martha Maude said. “I’m only doing my job.” Angie started laughing. “Of all the nerve.” She walked toward the door as though she expected Martha Maude to follow. “Don’t you want to know about this house?” Martha Maude played her most favorite card. “The history? I’ve known it all my life.”

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“OK, lady,” Angie turned around, slapped her sides. “You got me.” “To start with, my Aunt Lula lived here until she died. My grandfather built this house for her as a bride, only. . . ” “Only what?” “Only she never married,” Martha Maude put her hand over her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to tell that.” “What? That she got the house and never married? No sin in that. In fact, I think it’s damn smart. She musta been a pretty smart lady.” “Oh she was,” Martha Maude said. She felt herself starting to smile. “Taught high school home economics thirty-five years.” Angie looked at the cracked walls, ceilings, the poor mispainted mantel. “Home economics?” “You never saw this house in its prime. Why, Aunt Lula gave the best and most elegant teas in town. She did all the food, flowers, decorated the whole house . . . and the gardens. I was married here.” Angie brightened, smiled. Martha Maude saw Angie was beginning to soften. She had Angie interested. The stories about this house always got them, pulled them in. “And . . . ?” “It was the wedding of the century,” explained Martha Maude, “This whole town came out. Me and Hermon were the movie star couple of the year. The local paper had carried stories of our nuptials . . . don’t you love that word? . . . for months. My poor mother was running her legs off planning and checking on everything . . . the church, St. Emanuel’s of course, my home church . . . ” “But I thought you said . . . ” “I haven’t gotten to that part yet.” Martha Maude continued. It was such a sweet story. If you left out the bad parts, but of course she wouldn’t do that . . . not at this point. “Mama wore herself out. Killed herself, in fact. She had to have everything perfect. Two weeks before the wedding, she went to sleep

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in the upstairs bedroom,” Martha Maude pointed to the ceiling above the diningroom across the hall. “And never got up.” “I thought this was your aunt’s house . . . the one who never married.” “We lived here after papa was killed in the war.” “Oh,” Angie said, and waited. “So this house has had funerals AND weddings.” Martha Maude wiped her eyes. “That’s the bedroom I’ve been sleeping in,” Angie said with a little lopsided catch in her voice. “I think I’ll move my mattress downstairs.” She looked at the floor. “The funeral was in this house,” Martha Maude said. “Mama lay in state right here in this room.” She looked toward the double windows. That space. “OK,” said Angie, “Change of plans.” “Of course since Aunt Lula died seven, eight, ten years ago, this house has been left to rack and ruin.” She sighed. Heavily. “I bet this is a Halloween mecca,” Angie said. “A pure spook house.” “A little,” Martha Maude laughed. “But not to worry. Hermon and I’ll come help out.” “Help out?” “We always dress up. He’s Frankenstein and I am the good witch. It’s fortunate I can still get in my wedding dress.” Martha Maude smoothed her navy polyester dress. “Hermon? Your husband?” “My precious son. He’s the one I live for.” “Well, you’re certainly welcome to help out. Not that I imagine there will be many trick-or-treaters. Not in this neighborhood.” Angie flipped her coupons, fanned them out like a hand of cards. “You’ll be surprised. They come from everywhere, everywhere . . . even out of town.” Martha Maude said, “I’ve got more coupons. The best ones really. I save

those for last.” She pulled out a yellowed, wrinkled coupon from Page’s Shoe Repair and the free pair of shoe laces that were one of her giveaways. She had a toothbrush from Walker’s, the only locally owned drug store still on Main Street. Toot Walker was so good to let Hermon sweep his walk every day. Paid him a dollar, which Hermon thought was a million and always brought it home to her. She might have married Toot Walker if it hadn’t been for his nickname and the bad habit that got him the nickname. And she had a calendar in her basket for newcomers. It listed the one doctor in town, Dr. Tom Harris. He’d delivered Hermon. Too late, too late and he was on a drunk then, bad drunk. Not that he ever changed his ways. Just went wherever he had to go. Angie looked at the calendar, frowned, looked at her coupons closer. “These are expired. l979? Where did you get these things? “ “From my basket,” Martha Maude said. “You saw me. You saw me pull them out.” “This isn’t funny,” Angie said. “I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing, trying to pull some joke . . . ” She stared hard at Martha Maude who stood, started toward the door. “I’m your neighbor,” Martha Maude said. “On the corner. Just up the street.” “That’s a vacant lot,” Angie said. “Look, stay here and let me call somebody. Are you lost?” She reached out to touch Martha Maude, who jerked back. “I know where I am and what my business is. I’ll show myself out,” and she did, adjusting her hat as she went. PS Ruth Moose teaches creative writing at UNC-Chapel Hill and has published 6 collections of poems, including The Librarian and Other Poems, which recently went into a third printing.

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P S T r av e l e r

Just one Amtrak stop from Southern Pines when traveling South, the intersection of train tracks in Hamlet means that the trains travel North-South and East-West. But this diamond is only one of eight intersections: “To have one diamond is remarkable, but to have eight diamonds is exceptional,” says Miranda Chavis, manager and curator of Hamlet’s Historic Depot and Museums.

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Hamlet .................. Prince of Towns BY JOHN WILSON PHOTOGRAPHS BY CASSIE BUTLER

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H

amlet, located in the Sandhills of Richmond County, North Carolina, is a prince of a town, suffused with a rich and intriguing history. So much so that Hollywood producers chose it as the setting for the 1991 film Billy Bathgate, starring Dustin Hoffman as gangster Dutch Shultz, Nicole Kidman as a young socialite, and Bruce Willis as Bo Weinberg. The hit film won Nicole Kidman her first Golden Globe nomination. This quintessential small town is the next stop from Southern Pines on the southbound Silver Star line to Florida, or thirty minutes by car from Aberdeen. The last stretch of highway leading into Hamlet, Route 177, passes through tiny Cognac and Fruitland — important junctions long ago, when surrounding fields were vibrant with vineyards, peach orchards, watermelons, cantaloupes and packing houses. Hamlet traces its origins to 1872, when an enterprising textile man from nearby Rockingham, John Shortridge, built woolen and saw mills on the banks of Marks Creek. The stream had sufficient fall for power and its clear water was perfect for washing wool. High-end finished yarn from Shortridge’s mill was shipped to places as far away as Liverpool, England. When others arrived, Shortridge began referring to the area as a hamlet, a term used in his native England to define a cluster of houses. The name stuck and, in 1897, the town of Hamlet was incorporated. By the early 1900s, Hamlet was a prosperous and prominent railroad town, owing to its strategic location at the crossroads of a major north-south rail line and a major east-west rail line.

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Mike Wilson of Maxton, NC, volunteers twice a week to help with the model train under construction in the tornado building.

The Seaboard Air Line Railroad (SAL) operated 19 trains along the East Coast in 1900, including several passing through Hamlet — the Raleigh & Augusta, the Palmetto, and the Carolina Central lines. Dozens of trains pulled in and out of Hamlet daily. Passengers and crew overnighted; others shopped, dined, had their hair trimmed, or took in a game of pool during extended layovers, en route to Florida, New York, and points east and west. Fine hotels were constructed in the old railroad town, along with clothing stores, restaurants, pharmacies, dime stores, bakeries, laundries, groceries, hardware stores, banks, real estate offices, schools and churches. Streets were laid out and houses constructed to accommodate the growing workforce of railroad personnel, shopkeepers and teachers who called Hamlet home. Stately homes were built for the town’s business leaders. Keenly aware of Hamlet’s importance as a hub for its railroads, the Seaboard Air Line Railroad built a magnificent two-story Queen Anne-style passenger train depot in 1900 to accommodate growing passenger numbers, freight services and railroad personnel. The depot served as Seaboard’s divisional headquarters. The railroad company also built a strikingly beautiful Victorian hotel by the depot, with turrets and an expansive front veranda. The elegant 65-room Seaboard Hotel opened for business on April 1, 1900, and served the finest cuisine in town, delighting the palate of travelers, train crews and residents alike. Patrons dressed in their finest when dining at the Seaboard on Sundays. The Hamlet passenger depot still stands and is a marvel — one of the architectural wonders of North Carolina. It was meticulously restored over a three-year period, after having been purchased in 2001 for one dollar by the town of Hamlet from CSX (the successor to the Seaboard Air Line). The depot was moved 210 feet across the east-west rail line, rotated 90 degrees, and sited at the foot of Main Street. PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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had the good fortune of running into Riley Lee Watson, a long-time resident of Hamlet and part-time docent, when I first visited the passenger depot in early June. A polite Southern gentleman to the core, Riley greeted me with a warm and friendly smile as he grabbed the keys from the pocket of his faded blue jeans and opened the door to the depot. His railroad cap and silver belt buckle both bore the logo of the Seaboard Air Line. Riley is a veritable railroad man — the real McCoy — who started working on the rails back in ’47 at the age of 20. Railroads run through his veins. His father was a railroad man, as was his older brother James, now 95 and living in Roanoke Rapids. Riley spent most of his 42-year career as a section foreman, overseeing train crews responsible for repairing and maintaining large sections of track. The train depot came alive when Riley showed me the room where he was hired sixty-five years ago and the second-story offices, once teeming with dispatchers, engineers, purchasing agents, and secretaries. “The lobby was always busy with passengers and baggage carriers, when I first started working on the railroad. About thirty trains passed through Hamlet daily, including the Orange Blossom Special and the Silver Meteor Streamliner, which transported passengers from New York to sunny Florida,” he recalled with a smile. The restored depot remains active, served twice daily by Amtrak’s Silver Star, but also houses a spectacular railroad museum. Many of the artifacts displayed behind glass cases were contributed by Riley — a bush ax, spike hammers, tie tongs and other implements to repair tracks. Railroad man Riley Lee Watson with PineStraw Magazine contributor John Wilson

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With the flip of a switch Riley set in motion a spectacular model train display of Hamlet, circa 1952. The set, located on the lower level of the depot, was meticulously assembled by the Southland Model Railroaders of Winston-Salem. Riley pointed to a tiny elephant on the display, placed in the heart of Hamlet’s cemetery. I made a note to check this out. After a fascinating tour, I proceeded to walk up Main Street, a wide avenue lined with two blocks of one- and two-story storefronts, each brimming with historical clues. Chiseled on the corners of two buildings, in bold letters above bracketed brick cornices, was the name E.A. LACKEY. My curiosity was piqued. Eli A. Lackey, I discovered, was a mover and a shaker, who made a fortune in the distillery business. His famous “Silver Top” corn whisky was North Carolina’s first registered trademark, transported by rail from his distillery in Hamlet to points up and down the East Coast, and offered to patrons in his high-end bar on Main Street. Lackey called Hamlet home and used his wealth and influence to help build a town of culture and beauty. He constructed the first block of brick buildings on Main Street and the all-brick Central Hotel on the corner of Main and Lackey Streets. Brick construction embodied permanence and prosperity. He and his wife, Ella, also fulfilled their dream of building an opera house in downtown Hamlet. Lackey’s opera house was patterned after the neoclassical Bijou Theatre in Wilmington. Its elaborate façade was decorated with cherubs and scrolls, its roof lined with celestials playing musical instruments. When the opera house opened in 1912, Hamlet was a thriving and vibrant town, populated by an unusually talented and devoted citizenry. James Niemeyer established the first steam laundry and furniture store in Hamlet; Thomas Franklin Boyd built the town’s first hotel and developed what is today East Hamlet; J.P. Gibbons opened a Coca-Cola bottling factory; L.A. Corning established the Buttercup Ice Cream Company; J.A. Williams operated a lumber mill producing wood for the town’s new homes; and C.E. Johnson established Hamlet’s first ice plant, essential for transporting fruits and vegetables on the railroad. World-famous tenor Enrico Caruso, William Jennings Bryan, traveling road shows and a heap of local talent performed at the new opera house. Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show arrived by train in October 1916. People from afar watched Chief Sitting Bull and his regalia of Indians, and cowboys and cowgirls atop Appaloosas parade down Main Street. These were good times in Hamlet — the golden era of the railroad. Less than two years after the Wild West show, the flu epidemic of 1918 struck with a vengeance. Tragically, Eli Lackey and his two brothers succumbed to the nefarious virus, dying within three days of each other. Eli’s wife, Ella, was spared and lived to the ripe age of 87. Over time, the sand roads winding through Richmond County were paved and four-lane highways constructed. Sleek, affordable and exciting new automobiles rolled off assembly lines by the thousands. America’s obsession with cars and commercial air travel forever altered Hamlet and other small railroad towns across the nation. Hotels, hospitality services and other businesses dependent on railroad passengers declined precipitously or folded. The two buildings bearing Lackey’s name now house Birmingham Drug and Mabry’s Drug and Home Care. Through the display window of Birmingham Drug, I noticed four or five gentlemen sipping coffee and swapping stories around an old wooden table. Pharmacist Bill Horne said the Birmingham Coffee Club has gathered in his store daily since the mid-1950s. He added that most were retired from the railroad, but all were true blue Southerners. Robert Wood (left) and Burt Unger (right) declare “We’re about the last of the Mohicans,” regarding the Birmingham Coffee Club’s dwindling membership. But their focus is not the number of people in their club, but the friendships they’ve strengthened through their decades of meeting twice daily. PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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The Green family, left, on a birthday buffet outing at the Seaboard Station Restaurant.

I continued my trek up Main Street, stopping for a moment to peek through the glass door panels of the dormant Bank of Hamlet building, a stunning neoclassical edifice fronted with bold Ionic columns. Sitting quietly on a dusty but colorful mosaic-tiled floor was the original wooden teller cage and counter — splendidly intact. Across the street, I spotted Lackey’s old opera house. Its original façade of cherub reliefs was modernized in the 1930s to Art Deco and converted to a movie theater. Vacant for years, efforts are under way to explore ways to restore the majestic building to its original design and intent: to serve as a live performance and community event venue. The old Central Hotel was a few paces up. Fire escape ladders still cling to its walls. Nancy Rivers, a gutsy Hamlet native with strong family ties to the railroad, transformed the building into a successful antique consignment shop. The following Sunday, I sampled the cuisine of the popular Seaboard Station Restaurant, ensconced in an old Victorian manse on Charlotte Street, a few blocks from the depot. Beautiful dining areas with fireplaces and high ceilings were connected to the parlor by tall French doors. The tables were occupied by polite and soft-spoken patrons, most sporting coats and ties and summer dresses. The buffet was also true blue Southern, sumptuous and soulful: fried chicken, turnip greens, fresh corn, green beans, sweet potatoes, rice, biscuits, corn bread, a salad bar and endless sweet tea. A small sign placed on the dessert table read, “Stressed spelled backwards is Desserts.” I reached for the coconut/pineapple pie.

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collective energy is brewing in Hamlet — a passion and desire to return the historical town square to its former glory. Miranda Chavis, manager and curator of Hamlet’s Historic Depot and Museums, had just finished giving a tour of the passenger depot to 122 primary students when she joined me at Café on Main. Well- traveled and armed with a degree in American history from UNC-Chapel Hill, Miranda was full of energy and ideas: “I’d like to establish a walking tour in Hamlet, patterned after the Freedom Trail in Boston,” she explained enthusiastically. After touring the depot, visitors would follow a marked trail linking Hamlet’s notable historical sites. This would draw visitors out to Main Street and other downtown areas. After a cup of coffee, we strolled down Main Street to the Visitors Center and future museum display, sited in the old Stinson building. En route, Miranda pointed to the letters “YMCA” carved into a concrete step, a clue to the building’s past. Miranda’s office was crammed with historical artifacts: tin ceiling panels, a cast-iron bell retrieved from the Seaboard Hotel, a sign and milk jug from the old Buttercup Ice Cream Company, an original Billy Bathgate cinema poster, a seat from the opera house, old railroad machinery, and much more. “Artifacts like these are dropped off in my office daily,” she pointed out. “Most will be displayed in the new museum display next door, which will open October 27, during Hamlet’s annual Seaboard Festival.” After living in Florida for several years, Riley Lee Watson’s daughter, Linda, returned home when her mother passed away. A graduate of Hamlet High School, Linda worked for a spell at Roses dime store on Main Street,

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and occupied a room on the second floor of the old Central Hotel, when the building served as a dormitory for nursing students. I met Linda Watson Martin and her friends Steve and Jeanne Newton at the new ice cream shop on Main Street — famous for its Italian ice and sweet potato muffins. Linda, a talented artist, launched the first “Art in the Park” event on Saturday, June 9. Another happened in September. Hamlet’s citizens are cut from the same cloth as those who transformed a small cluster of homes into one of the most influential towns in North Carolina. Saxophonist and composer John Coltrane and New York Times columnist Tom Wicker were both from Hamlet. Hamlet is a wonderful destination for a day trip. The blare of train whistles and crossing bells still echo as freight trains roll by the old town to the nearby CSX classification yard, where cars are decoupled and reattached to new destination trains. And yes, there really is an elephant in Hamlet’s Mary Love Cemetery. The stone elephant was carved by Lincoln Borglum, an American sculptor, best known for overseeing the completion of Mount Rushmore after the death of his father, the project’s leader. Why was an elephant placed in the cemetery? Rumors abound. Just ask during your next visit to this fine old railroad town and folks will gladly offer up an explanation or two. PS John Wilson lives in Southern Pines and can be reached at jhw1353@ hotmail.com.

Linda Watson Martin painting local scenes of Hamlet in the park.

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

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Paulie’s Tale Or how one small orphaned possum aims to change the world By Tom Embrey Photographs by Cassie Butler

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aire Strouse has nursed hundreds of animals back to health during her seven years as licensed rehabilitator. Now, she is taking a shot at maybe her toughest case — redeeming the sullied reputation of the opossum, using Paulie, a now 6-month-old possum who fit in the palm of a human hand when Strouse took him in after he was orphaned last spring. “I intended to exploit this possum,” Strouse says. When he was “small and cute” Strouse used Paulie as a teaching tool at community events and took the marsupial to various venues throughout the United States. She even has kept a travel itinerary for her furry companion. And yes, Strouse gets plenty of strange looks when she arrives anywhere with Paulie. “It’s such a shock when people see somebody going into a public place with a possum,” Strousse says. “People don’t forget that.” And that is part of Strouse’s master plan to help rehabilitate the image of the possum. “I hope that people will remember the cute possum and swerve the next time they see one in the road,” she says. Strouse lives in a modest home located on a shady plot of land back off a busy street. The only hint of her affinity for animals is the numerous wood and wire release cages that dot the property. One of which houses Paulie. PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Paulie came to Strouse by accident — literally. On April 16, a cool spring morning, Southern Pines resident and selfproclaimed animal lover Suzanne Coleman was driving to work when she happened upon “traumatizing carnage” on Bennett Street. It appeared a motorist had struck Paulie’s mom when she attempted to cross the road with her six babies. The impact killed the mother possum and scattered her babies all over. “No one slowed down,” Strouse says of the motorists who hit the animals. Coleman quickly got out of her vehicle to check on the mother possum, hoping it was still alive, and discovered Paulie, the only survivor, “huddled in gutter.” Strouse took custody of Paulie. Back then everyone thought he was a she, and the tiny marsupial made the rounds under the name of Polly. The critter weighed 81 grams and fit in the palm of your hand. A few months later Strouse realized Paulie’s correct gender. Coleman has done extensive research on possums and said she is fascinated by the animals that have a unique, but in Coleman’s opinion, maligned place in America. She, like Strouse, is intent on restoring the animal’s reputation. Opossums, coloquially called possums, are marsupials. The word opossum is borrowed from the Powhatan language and means “white dog,” or “white beast.” Possums are opportunistic omnivoires, which has earned them the nickname “nature’s garbage disposal,” and can often lead to their demise, as many adult possums are killed in the middle of roads while scavenging for roadkill. Possums are typically solitary animals and will remain in one area as long as they can find food and water. Coleman is so taken with the animals and their safety that she, unlike many, will stop her car and move a possum to the safety of the side of the road if she sees one in the middle of the street on her travels. Possums likely get a bad rap because of their unpleasant looks and their odd, sometimes scary behavior. When threatened or harmed, they will “play possum,” mimicking the appearance and smell of a sick or dead animal. This physiological response is involuntary (like fainting), rather than a conscious act. When “playing possum,” the animal’s lips are drawn back, the teeth are bared, saliva foams around the mouth, the eyes close or half-close, and a foul-smelling fluid is secreted from the anal glands. The animal will typically regain consciousness after a period of between forty minutes and four hours, a process which begins with slight twitchings of the ears. Possums don’t hang from trees by their tail. Instead, they use their tail to help them climb. When in danger, a possum often will make a hissing or squawking sound to deter predators or other perceived threats from approaching. Coleman brought the newly orphaned Paulie to Strouse in hopes that she could help rehab the animal. “They are really beneficial little creatures,” Coleman says of possums. “I hope this (story) will give people a little more understanding and respect for them.” But when it comes to rehabilitating animals, possums were not an animal Strouse was overly familiar with. She spent a lot of time calling experts and searching for information online in order to know how to properly care for Paulie. One of the bigger problems she had was feeding Paulie. Possums cannot suckle like other animals, so they have to be fed sans baby bottle. Strouse opted for feeding him “one drop at a time,” for ten minutes every four hours, rather than inserting a tube down his throat and into his stomach. “Thankfully he was a good eater,” she says. Possums, you see, are not Strouse’s specialty. Squirrels are. Strouse runs Squirrel Central, a nonprofit nursery and rehabilitation organization for injured and abandoned squirrels, out of her house in Aberdeen. She’s actually known as “Agent Squirrel,” one of about a dozen licensed

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animal rehabilitators in Moore County. She specializes in squirrels, but can care for a variety of small animals, including possums. Recently she took in a baby deer from Pinehurst for a few days until it could be relocated to a licensed rehabilitator. There are more than 270 varieties of squirrels worldwide. In North Carolina, the most common variety is the gray squirrel. Strouse specializes in grays, flying squirrels and fox squirrels. In the nearly eight years she has lived in Moore County, Strouse estimates she has taken in hundreds of them. Strouse has a strong love for all animals and has said that she is is happy to take in animals if it can be a benefit to the community. She has always had a passion for animals, eventually getting involved with animal rescue and rehabilitation nearly a decade ago as a volunteer while living in Washington, D.C. The first animals she cared for were raccoons. But those mischievous, often destructive animals weren’t the right fit for Strouse, so she switched to squirrels, saying that she and the animals are a good match because of their “high-strung” personalities. Two years into her career as an animal rehabilitator, Strouse discovered that living in Washington created issues for a rehabilitator. For example, there was no real place to release the animals once they were ready to return to the wild. In 2004, she decided that if she was to rehab and ultimately release squirrels, she needed to be in a more rural setting, so she packed up and moved to North Carolina, settling on a 1.5-acre piece of property in southern Moore County. Her older-model home sits on a secluded, wooded lot. Dotting the property are three six-foot-tall, homemade wooden release cages. There are plenty of trees in the yard and seeds and nuts galore on the ground. One of the release cages is now home to Paulie, who has grown to be the size of a large cat, weighing more than ten pounds. Strouse’s connection to animals began at an early age. Growing up in the D.C. area she remembers having plenty of pets as a child.

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Guinea pigs and rabbits — and even a pet chicken — were the norm rather than the exception. As an adult, she noticed that she had a knack for finding animals that had been injured or abandoned. Time and time again while working as a paralegal in D.C., Strouse and stray or abandoned animals kept finding each other. It got to the point that she decided it was time for a career change. She decided to volunteer with the Wildlife Rescue League of Northern Virginia. She started out as a transporter, driving unwanted animals to rehabilitators. And in a few short months, the rehabilitators saw her interest in the job and recruited her to join their ranks. “Its been a passion ever since,” she says. But this year’s squirrel season has been slow. At the time a tiny orphan possum entered her life she was only rehabilitating three squirrels, which left her plenty of time to care for Paulie. “It has been a real learning experience,” Strouse said of raising Paulie. “But he is so mellow. Nothing seems to freak him out.” In nearly eight years as a rehabilitator, Strouse, who is also licensed to rehab some birds, estimates she has rehabilitated and released hundreds of squirrels, bunnies, turtles, a dove, and a variety of birds. “If someone calls me with an animal and I don’t rehab it, I have someone to call who can help or I transport it to the zoo.” She has had Paulie for more than five months now and she doubts if he can be released into the wild again. That means he likely will live the remainder of his life on her property with Strouse when he’s not off raising public awareness of this possum’s lovability and value. “He has been a real learning experience for me,” notes Paulie’s caretaker. “It has certainly made for one interesting year so far.” PS Tom Embrey is a staff writer for The Pilot.

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

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Sandhills Photography Club Nature Photography Competition Class A

2nd Place

Jill Margeson Spider and Sunflower

Honorable Mention Donna Ford Acadia Sunset

3rd Place

Kathy Green Fascinating Textures

1st Place

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

Member Choice Donna Ford Southern Beauty 86

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Nature Photography Competition Class B

Honorable Mention Christine Pritchard Fall Color

2nd Place Matt Smith Dragonfly

3rd Place

Barbara Gault The Eyes Have It

Member’s Choice Diane McCall Windblown

1st Place

Gene Lentz White Water Lilies with Lily Pads

Honorable Mention

Debra Rhodes-Smith Antelope Canyon

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

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Home on the Range

For Lisa and Jim Van Camp, life at Silver Spur Ranch balances nature’s raw majesty and a daily challenge Story and Photographs by Maureen Clark

T

he first time Lisa Van Camp turned down the road of her Montana ranch, two bald eagles flew from the aspen trees along the creek and crossed her path. “It was a sign,” she remembers. “And I believe in signs. I had been looking (for land) for a couple of years. I called Jim right there and told him I had found the right place. I knew this was it.” Six years later, cows and calves graze on the hillside, horses nose around the paddocks outside the barn, new fencing stretches down the drive, a noisy collection of dogs welcomes visitors, and a handsome lodge commands the acreage. Van Camp, East Coast horsewoman turned Montana rancher, is married to Jim Van Camp, a wellknown Moore County attorney. Since the sale of their horse farm here on Furr Road, she has managed the couple’s Montana adventure home, while he continues to practice law in North Carolina. Undaunted by the work involved in both building and running a 750-acre spread with 80 head of cattle and more than a dozen horses, the petite “cowgirl” is thriving in Red Lodge, Montana. The sign marking the entrance is still in the works, but it will read Silver Spur Ranch, giving the name of their old farm a new translation. Lisa Van Camp with her Oldenburg mare, Latusia


Above, the ranch house; below, its backdoor pastures. Nearby Aspen trees by the creek and the Fencing and Beartooth Mountains.

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

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Living room (top left) and its view (above) of buffalo grass with Beartooth Mountain range in distance. Bucking Horse Bronze (top right) by T. D. Kelsey. Bottom right, Stillwater River Trailhead in the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness of Custer, Gallatin and Shoshone National Park.

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Red Lodge, located southwest of Billings at the foot of the Beartooth Mountain range, serves as a gateway from Montana into Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming. The winding, connecting road, known as the Beartooth All American Road Scenic Byway, is one the late Charles Kuralt considered the “most beautiful roadway in America.” It climbs to an altitude of over 10,947 feet, passing snow-capped peaks and clear, alpine lakes. The town at the base is known for one legendary bank robbery. The Pollard Hotel, built in 1893, a hangout in the early years for Calamity Jane and Buffalo Bill Cody, also attracted the notorious Sundance Kid, Henry Longabaugh. He robbed the bank across the street while hotel guests watched. Today, The Pollard has been renovated and serves the best $3 dollar martinis around. The Van Camps bought their ranch land from the owner of the historic hotel. Jim and Lisa Van Camp didn’t exactly leave North Carolina behind. They sort of brought it with them. A stunning stone-walled hallway in the master wing of their home has niches for bronzes of an Indian on horseback balanced by a mounted cowboy on the other side. The two bracket a large oil painting by Beth Turner of the family foxhunting in Ireland. On the breakfast table, longleaf pine cones are mixed with elk horns in a copper bowl. And even in the tack room, the sturdy Western saddles are perched next to the lighter English versions for the two jumpers Lisa brought West. The corral is full of quarter horses that handle the elements, grazing on alfalfa more handily than the Danish warmbloods, but she is committed to embracing both. The view from the living room of the lodge through two-story paneled glass windows frames the Beartooth Mountain range in the distance. Watching the sky and landscape in Montana is like watching the sea in North Carolina. The clouds move and change. The colors soften and darken and the hillside grasses move through shades of gold like the ocean on the Atlantic seaboard switches from gray to blue. No two days are the same. No two hours are either. The clouds, the surface, the color, the wind, the light are all mesmerizing moving variables. Dotted across the landscape are black silhouettes of the cattle,

always moving, alone, in pairs, in single file, then fanned out, then gone. One look and the far pasture is bare. The next look they are plodding in single file across the hill. A glassed, two-story projection from the living room, positioned in front of the mesmerizing view, holds Jim Van Camp’s large bronze sculpture of a cowboy on a bucking horse done by T. D. Kelsey. The piece is particularly appropriate for Red Lodge, known as home to the most legendary rodeo cowboys in the West. Watching the bronc like a wise, woolly old man is the massive buffalo head hanging above the fireplace. Lisa had a hand in every aspect of building the lodge, from location to finishings. In a manner reminiscent of the Montana women who homesteaded here, she lived in a motor home, throughout a winter, at the building site. She shrugs off hardiness with a customary, hearty laugh that projects, surprisingly, much larger that her tiny frame. If the bucking bronc and buffalo head are husband Jim’s contribution, the kitchen is hers. Although beautiful, it is not for show.

W

hen grandson Campbell and daughter Ashley came for a visit, Lisa served her homemade lasagna and lemon meringue pie. The next evening she followed an equally stunning meal of steak, sautéed asparagus and blue cheese macaroni with another homemade dessert. Her blueberry pie could have made the cover of a gourmet cooking magazine and won a state fair cook-off at the same time. Ranch hand Joey Madrid, who also hails from Moore County, and his friend, Sarah Ross, are treated to dinner on a regular basis. The kitchen, with a breakfast area that overlooks the creek side and bank of Aspen trees, also opens to the great room, the stone fireplace and dramatic view west. Warmed by wood tones and braced by the views, paintings and sculpture with an equestrian theme, from either the east or the west, are in harmony here. On an early morning trip by Kawasaki Mule to the highest elevation of the ranch, Lisa points out the landmarks. The Beartooth Mountains loom in the distance, claiming rain and moisture from the clouds that pass it heights. The

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

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St. Olaf’s Lutheran Church, built in 1921 in Red Lodge, Montana

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Tuffy, Lisa’s 20-year-old pet steer

hills across the range are separated by coulee, dry gulches that were cut by water flow. The group of ranches in the Van Camps’ community are lined up single file along the flowing creek basins. The drive into the ranch weaves in and out through a grouping of homes and livestock reliant on the water source. The ranches each have carefully regarded water rights and are organized to protect them. One look at the crusty, seemingly barren surface of the highland begs the question: How does this rocky pasture produce the robust cows grazing in the distance? Lisa smiles. “It’s the buffalo grass,” she explains. “See that thin, light grass on the ground? It’s highly nutritious.” The threadlike tendrils look more dead than alive. On the way back to the barn, Lisa explains cow terminology. She does not have bulls on her ranch, but raises cows (the older females) with calves, either bull calves or heifers. Steers, older neutered males, are rare on ranches. They are nonproductive in a herd and sold at market early. Lisa’s beloved Tuffy is the exception. She singles out a large Hereford/Charolais cross standing near a group of black Angus cows and calves. “Tuffy was a bum calf,” she explains. “He had lost his mother. Sometimes on a drive the calves get separated or the mother may have died. Back in 1992, LP and Diane Tate were at TX Ranch and we were moving about 700 head fifty miles from Lone Wolf down to Lay Out Creek. The older cows lead a herd. There was one lone calf that I saw was behind the whole way. He never looked right or left. He just kept marching on. He had a mousy gray tip on his tail and a white tuft of hair sticking up on his back. I named him Tuffy.” Lisa admired his moxie. Often the stranded or orphaned calves fail to thrive. After the drive, she bought Tuffy, and for twenty years he has been a ranching anomaly. “No one in this business has a pet steer,” Lisa points out. Tuffy was left on the TX range. Every year Lisa would locate him in the roundups. “Two winters ago, we couldn’t find him. There was a lot of snow early and I thought we had lost him. Then he showed up on Thanksgiving Day at TX Ranch. He had made it through three cattle guards.” After the scare, she brought the old fellow to Silver Spur. According to the rancher, he is earning his keep. “Last spring we had a set of twin calves. One got separated and I heard it bawling. Tuffy went over the hill, touched noses with the calf and brought him back.” The ranch, spread along the creek basin, consists of a ranch hand’s house, a bunkhouse for overflow guests, equipment sheds, cattle pens, hayfields, the lodge and last in line, a six-stall center aisle barn with paddocks. On the property, wildlife abounds. A female pheasant leading a dozen chicks paraded across the lawn headed for the fields. Mule deer are so abundant Lisa has rigged her irrigation to trigger when they attempt to eat the flowers and shrubs landscaping the lodge. More than once she has had to clean the strong, oily scent of skunk off her dogs. (A grease cutting liquid like Dawn works.) Grandson Campbell caught a rainbow trout from the creek out back within minutes of his first cast. Flocks of sheep who graze close to home on nearby ranches are protected from predators by the odd, sentinel llama. Every grouping is guarded by one large, scraggly llama, reputed to be aggressive in fending off coyotes and

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The barn, set near Aspen trees; below, English and Western saddles inside. eagles. Wolves, black bears and mountain lions round out the threats to newborn cattle and sheep. Another curious feature of the ranching landscape is the proliferation of white bee boxes sprinkled throughout the communities. The state of Montana Department of Agriculture is working with ranchers, in three-mile radiuses, to promote beekeeping, in an effort to increase alfalfa pollination. “I tried to get bees,” Lisa said. “But there was already a project within three miles of our ranch.” Nearby, about two miles by dusty road, and shorter by horseback, is the Van Camps’ neighborhood church, St. Olaf’s Lutheran. Built in 1921, the white clapboard structure is a reminder of the strong Scandinavian immigration during the homesteading years at the turn of the last century. Looking like a study for a Georgia O’Keeffe painting, the church faces the Beartooth Mountains with a graveyard to the side and a two-door outhouse in back. “We meet on Sundays, once a month,” Lisa explains. “But it closes after Christmas in the hard part of the winter.” She had plans to attend, on horseback, an upcoming bluegrass Mass to be celebrated at the church. The Beartooth Mountains are close enough to enjoy on outings from Silver Spur Ranch to the Custer, Gallatin and Shoshone National Park in Stillwater. The Stillwater River Trailhead that follows the cascading waters up to an expanse of trout filled lakes is a favorite destination for Lisa. She recently trailered horses to the park and spent an afternoon riding the trails with friends. Ranch hand Madrid heads for the ski slopes whenever he can get away. Lisa laughs at their potential plans to practice for joring competitions this winter. The sport, popular in Scandinavia, is a timed event involving a rider pulling a skier through a slalom course with jumps at breakneck speed. “We’ll see,” Lisa mused, mentally measuring time for fun against the demands of a drought. She hand-builds the irrigation heads into the hillside. Jim spent his last visit locating hay for the winter. “I found enough hay in Helena,” he said. Ranchers in Montana who can’t feed through the winter will sell off cattle in the October sales. Those who can will wait for, hopefully, stronger markets in the spring. In Montana, the beauty is paired with challenge, the romance with reality. The Van Camps are signed on for both. PS PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P P October 2012

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


By Noah Salt

“There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on, and produce so pleasant an effect on the feelings, as now in October.” — Nathaniel Hawthorne

The Great American Pumpkin Thanks to jack-o’-lanterns and The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, pumpkins are the seasonal centerpiece of America’s most entertaining holiday — Halloween. But in terms of pure versatility as a foodstuff, few gifts from the garden can match the colorful pumpkin. The fall’s most famous fruit is indigenous to the Western hemisphere and a vital staple in the diet of American Indians, who ate it roasted, stewed and mashed into a variety of other dishes. It was also used in a variety of folk medicines, believed to cure snakebites and fade freckles. In New England, where pumpkins were introduced to the Pilgrims in 1621, pumpkin meat was brewed with persimmons and sweetened with maple syrup (another autumnal treat) to make a potent fermented beverage. Some believe the modern name derives from a common European “pompion” squash, so named by early colonists who soon incorporated it into everything from soup to pie. Last year, pumpkin-mad Americans purchased 1.5 billion pounds of pumpkin. The largest pumpkin pie on record was five feet in diameter and weighed 350 pounds. It required 80 pounds of cooked pumpkin meat, 36 pounds of sugar, 12 dozen eggs, and six houses to bake. No record of how much Cool Whip was involved. Two of our favorite North Carolina Pumpkin festivals happen this month: Franklin’s 16th Annual Pumpkinfest on October 19-20 (an hour west of Asheville, “Home of the World Famous” Pumpkin Roll), and the ambitious Grover Pumpkin Festival in Cleveland County, (just off I-85 above the South Carolina state line), on October 27, a town-wide celebration that includes a wall of 700 lighted pumpkins carved by local schools and community organizations and rides on the Headless Horseman’s coach to the annual “Punkin Chunkin.”

Going Batty This Halloween Common brown bats, the kind one finds in these parts, sure get a bad rap. Long associated with witches and vampires and things that creep in the night, believed to carry disease and even suck blood, bats are in fact one of the most social, clean and useful mammals on Earth. A single mature bat, for instance, is capable of eating anywhere from 3,000 to 7,000 insects in a single evening, including bugs that wreak havoc on agriculture. Despite popular notions to the contrary, they’re equipped with excellent eyesight and a highly advanced form of radar, which explains their skill at flying in complete darkness. Moreover, bats are the only true flying mammal, critical to maintaining the environmental balance, and long-lived creatures (surviving anywhere from 10-15 years) worthy of their own scientific designation, Chiroptera, which means “hand-wing.” How close are they to humans? In nature, the closest thing resembling a bat wing is a human hand. Need a few more reasons to fall for bats? Nectar-eating bats help pollinate plants and fruit-eating bats spread seeds that feed millions of migrating birds. Bat saliva is even used in certain human heart medicines. Unfortunately, owing to decades of misunderstanding and stubborn stereotypes that date from ancient times, bat populations are sadly in decline. This Halloween, why not do your garden and the world at large a big favor and learn the many benefits of this magnificent winged creature by setting out to build bat houses on your property? A great place to start is www.batconservation.org.

October’s Garden To-Do List Planting spring bulbs and transplanting perennials top the midautumn work list. October is also the time to clean up summer’s refuse and take stock of how your garden performed. Here’s our favorite gardener’s personal October To-Do List: If you haven’t planted spring bulbs yet, now’s the time to get cracking. As a rule of planting thumb, tulips, daffodils and crocus should be planted at a depth approximately three times their width — nine inches for tulips and three for crocus. Make sure you water amply before putting it to bed. The reason many transplanted shrubs, flowers and bulbs fail to thrive in spring is because of winter dryness, which can go unnoticed. While you’re at it, give your rhododendrons, young pines and mature shrubs a good autumn soaking. Consider leaving remnants of your summer garden for wildlife food and structural winter interest. If you do clear the garden beds, use this material to finally start a serious composting bin, incorporating manure, shredded leaves, and other organic kitchen leftovers to a pile that will soon yield “black gold,” a mulch that can enrich any garden soil. Speaking of soil, now is a great time to determine the proper pH of your soil by having it tested. Any garden center can give you easy instructions on how to take your samples — six different samples from every corner of your garden is a good rule — and provide information on testing labs, enabling you to determine what soil amendments will improve your garden and next year’s yield. Mow your grass at a height of two inches until it goes dormant, then apply a light winter fertilizer for the Big Sleep. Finally, this is the time to clean that cluttered garden shed and organize your tools, repairing whatever can be done and making an early list of needs for the spring.

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

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Tuesday

Wednesday

Thursday

Friday

CLASSICAL CONCERT SERIES. 8 p.m. “Into the Night with Gershwin.” Sunrise Theater. OKTOBERFEST. German cuisine & beers. The Sly Fox Pub.

BREAST CANCER GOLF TOURNAMENT. 10 a.m. OKTOBERFEST. German cuisine & beers. The Sly Fox Pub. DINNER & DANCE. Rue 32.

LUNCH AND LEARN. 12:30 – 1:30 p.m. MEET THE AUTHOR. 2 p.m. PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. DINNER WITH LORD WATSON. 6 p.m. OKTOBERFEST. German cuisine & beers. The Sly Fox Pub.

READ FOR THE RECORD. 4 – 5 p.m. Southern Pines Public Library. MEET THE AUTHOR. 5:30 p.m. Fred Thompson. The Country Bookshop. OKTOBERFEST. German cuisine & beers. The Sly Fox Pub.

OKTOBERFEST. German cuisine & beers. The Sly Fox Pub.

SANDHILLS PHOTO CLUB MEETING. 7 p.m. Guests welcome. Hannah Center Theater at the O’Neal School.

NORTH CAROLINA LAWN BOWLING INVITATIONAL. 9 a.m. – 4 p.m. Pinehurst Country Club MEET THE AUTHOR. 5 – 7 p.m. Jan Brett. The Country Bookshop PIZZA WITH PIZZAZ. 5 – 6 p.m. Southern Pines Public Library.

NORTH CAROLINA LAWN BOWLING INVITATIONAL. PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. Southern Pines Public Library ONE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF A SOUTHERN LAND TITLE AGENCY. 4 – 6 p.m. COOKING DEMO. 6 p.m.

OLDIES & GOODIES FILM. 2:30 – 4:30 p.m. Southern Pines Public Library. GATHERING AT GIVEN. 3:30 p.m. HOPS & BURGERS. 6:30 p.m. Sly Fox Pub.

WOMEN VOTERS MEETING. 11:45 a.m. Table on the Green. JUMP INTO FITNESS & FUN. 4 p.m. Reservoir Park.

TEEN READ WEEK. MANNA! GOLF TOURNAMENT. National Golf Club, Pinehurst.

TEEN READ WEEK. TEEN ADVISORY BOARD KICKOFF. 5:30 p.m. Southern Pines Public Library. MEET THE PUBLISHER. 6 p.m. The Country Bookshop.

TEEN READ WEEK. PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. Southern Pines Public Library.

TEEN READ WEEK. FAMILY FUN NIGHT. 5:30 p.m. Southern Pines Public Library. MEET THE AUTHOR. 6 p.m. The Country Bookshop.

TEEN READ WEEK. 5TH ANNUAL GIGANTIC TAG SALE. Community Presbyterian Church. 8 a.m. – 4 p.m.

HOPHEAD BEER DINNER AT SLY FOX. 6:30 p.m. COUNTRY CONCERT. Kellie Pickler and Bucky Covington. Cole Auditorium, Hamlet.

COUNTRY CONCERT. Kellie Pickler and Bucky Covington. Cole Auditorium, Hamlet.

1 2 3 4 7 8 9 10 11 14 15 16 17 18 21 22 23 24 25 28 29 30 31 Sunday

PINEHURST LAWN BOWLING. 9 a.m. – 4:30 p.m. MEET THE AUTHOR. 2 p.m. David S. Cecelski. BLESSING OF THE HEALING DOGS. 2 p.m. SENSES HIKE. 3 p.m. INTERFAITH WORSHIP. 4 p.m. Sandhills Alliance Chapel. ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m.

TEEN READ WEEK. LITERARY HALL OF FAME INDUCTION. 2 p.m. A CONCERT IN THE GARDEN. 2 p.m. Cape Fear Botanical Garden. OLD GROWTH HIKE. 3 p.m. ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m.

HORSE FARM TOUR. 11 a.m. – 4 p.m. Event to benefit the Prancing Horse Therapeutic Riding Center. WEYMOUTH WOODS EVENT. 3 p.m. “Owlology.” ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. Tom Maxwell and Walter Strauss. The Poplar Knight Spot.

LADIES NIGHT AT RUE 32.

HORSE COUNTRY SUNDAY SOCIAL. 12 – 3 p.m. The Hunter Trial Field. WEYMOUTH WOODS EVENT. 3 p.m. ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m.

HALLOWEEN AT THE DOWNTOWN PARK. 5 – 7 p.m. NEW REGION COMPETITION AT RUE 32.

PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. Southern Pines Public Library.

5 12 19 26


Arts & entertainment cA L e n DA r

Saturday CAMERON ANTIQUES STREET FAIR. SCOTLAND COUNTY HIGHLAND GAMES. SCC FALL PLANT SALE. AUTUMNFEST. MEET THE AUTHORS. ‘HOLY SMOKE’ BBQ & MUSIC FESTIVAL. MEET THE ARTIST AT WORK. BEST WURST COMPETITION. STAR WARS READS DAY. MINDS, MYTHS & MIRACLES. PINEHURST LAWN BOWLING.

6 13 20 27

SHAW HOUSE FAIR. 10 a.m. – 4 p.m. COOKING DEMO. 12 & 2 p.m. Elliott’s Provision Company. SUNRISE OPERA EVENT. 12:55 p.m. Donizett’s L’elisir D’Amore. MEET THE ARTIST AT WORK. 12 – 3 p.m. Hollyhocks Art Gallery. FREE BEER TASTING. 12 – 4 p.m.

TEEN READ WEEK. BIRD WALK. 8 a.m. Weymouth Woods. MILES FOR MIRA. 9 a.m. Southern Pines Reservoir. ART SHOW. 10 a.m. – 6 p.m. Hales Center. MEET THE ARTIST AT WORK. 12 – 3 p.m. COOKING DEMO & WINE TASTING. Elliott’s Provision Company. 5TH ANNUAL GIGANTIC TAG SALE. Community Presbyterian Church. 8 a.m. – 1 p.m.

PUMPKIN PAINTING & CARVING. 11 a.m. – 3 p.m. Elliott’s Provision Company. MEET THE ARTIST AT WORK. 12 – 3 p.m. Hollyhocks Art Gallery. COOKING DEMO. 12 & 2 p.m. SUNRISE OPERA EVENT. 12:55 p.m. Verdi’s Otello. FREE WINE TASTING. 12 – 4 p.m. Elliott’s Provision Company. SPOOKTACULAR HALLOWEEN GALA. 7 – 10 p.m. Pinehurst Fair Barn.

October 1

October 3

CLASSICAL CONCERT SERIES. 8 p.m. Series opener, “Into the Night with Gershwin.” Created by virtuoso pianist Thomas Pandolfi who performs solo piano versions of “Rhapsody in Blue” and “Concerto in F,” including “Embraceable You” and “I Got Rhythm.” Tickets: $25; four-concert subscription: $80/Arts Council members; $95/nonmembers. Sunrise Theater, 250 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 6922787 or www.mooreart.org.

LUNCH AND LEARN. 12:30 – 1:30 p.m. Topic: Break Free from Break Outs, Prevention and Treatment Options. Includes lunch, gift bags and specials. The Laser Institute of Pinehurst, 80 Aviemore Court, Suite A, Pinehurst. Info/RSVP: (910) 295-1130.

October 1—5

OKTOBERFEST. Special menu featuring German cuisine paired with German beers. Cost: $30. The Sly Fox Pub, 795 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1621.

October 2

BREAST CANCER GOLF TOURNAMENT. 10 a.m. Village Design Group will be hosting a fundraiser benefiting the Cancer CARE Fund and the Clara McLean House at FirstHealth. Cost: $75. Foxfire Resort and Golf Club. Info/Registration: (910) 692-1000.

DINNER & DANCE. Following a three-course dinner, dance the night away with instructors from the Fred Aistaire dance studio. Cost: $39; $15/wine pairings. Rue 32, 290 W. Pennsylvania Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1910.

• •

MEET THE AUTHOR. 2 p.m. Lord Watson of Richmond will be discussing his book, The Queen and the U.S.A. The Country Bookshop, 140 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-3211 or www.thecountrybookshop.biz. PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. • Preschoolers ages birth-5 and their parents or caregivers are invited to storytime at the library. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

DINNER WITH LORD WATSON. 6 p.m. After his stop at The Country Bookshop, Lord Watson will be heading to CCNC for cocktails and dinner. Join the English-Speaking Union and dine with the chairman of CTN Communications. Cost: $40.50. The Country Club of North Carolina, Pinehurst. Info/reservations: (910) 692-7727.

October 4

READ FOR THE RECORD. 4 – 5 p.m. Kids in grades K-5 and their parents are invited to listen to a special reading of Ladybug Girl and the Bug Squad by


c al e n da r David Soman and Jacky Davis. Craft activities and snacks to follow. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

and greet a panel of local authors. The Country Bookshop, 140 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-3211 or www.thecountrybookshop.biz.

MEET THE AUTHOR. 5:30 p.m. Fred Thompson will be discussing his book, Fred Thompson’s Southern Sides. The Country Bookshop, 140 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-3211 or www.thecountrybookshop.biz.

‘HOLY SMOKE’ BBQ & MUSIC FESTIVAL. 11 a.m. – 4 p.m. Family fun day features a variety of live music, BBQ and hot dogs, bounce house and kids games. Admission is free. Bring a lawn chair and stay. First United Methodist Church, 410 E. Washington St., Rockingham. Info: (910) 895-4027.

October 6

• COOKING DEMO. 12 & 2 p.m. “Apples.” Elliott’s Provision Company, Elliott’s on Linden, Pinehurst.

ANTIQUES STREET FAIR. All day. The annual fall fair includes all shops as well as 250 dealers, with food and refreshments. Cameron, U.S. 24-27 between Sanford and Southern Pines. Info: (910) 245-3415.

Info: (910) 215-0775.

MEET THE ARTIST AT WORK. 12 – 3 p.m. Diane Kraudelt. Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden Rd., Pinehurst. Info: (910) 255-0665 or www.janecasnellie.com.

• FALL PLANT SALE. 8 a.m. – 12 p.m. The Sandhills Horticultural Society and the landscape gardening

BEST WURST COMPETITION. 12 – 3 p.m. The 3rd annual house-made sausage throwdown between Elliott’s on Linden, The Sly Fox and Rue Thirty Two. Cost: $15. The Sly Fox Pub, 795 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1621.

SCOTLAND COUNTY HIGHLAND GAMES. 8 a.m. – 10 p.m. Enjoy traditional Scottish festivities and games throughout the day. Tickets: $10/adult; $3/ children 5-12. John Blue House, 13040 X-Way Road, Laurinburg. Info: (910) 224-1577 or www.schgnc.org.

students at SCC will conduct their fall sale. Sandhills Community College, 3395 Airport Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 246-4959.

AUTUMNFEST. 9 a.m. – 4 p.m. 34th annual festival features crafts, concessions, local entertainment, youth foot races and the Lizzy Ross Band. Cost: $10-$15/races, $25-$60/booths. Downtown Park, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-7376 or at www. southernpines.net/recreation.

MEET THE AUTHORS. 10 a.m. – 1 p.m. “Authors in the country. . . Bookshop.” Meet Key:

• • Art

Music/Concerts

Dance/Theater

FREE WINE TASTING. 12 – 4 p.m. California red zinfandel. Elliott’s Provision Company, Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775.

STAR WARS READS DAY. 2 – 4 p.m. Come dressed as your favorite Star Wars character for an afternoon filled with books, crafts and giveaways. The Country Bookshop, 140 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-3211 or www.thecountrybookshop.biz.

Lodge presents special guest speaker, Pete Earley, awardwinning author of Crazy: A Father’s Search Through America’s Mental Health Madness. Tickets: $15. Dessert and coffee provided. Pine Needles Reception Center, Southern Pines. Info/tickets: www.lindenlodgenc.org.

October 6—7

PINEHURST LAWN BOWLING. 9 a.m. – 4:30 • p.m. The best of the Northeast Division against the best

of the Southeast Division. Saturday is pairs and triples and Sunday is fours and singles. Free and open to the public. Pinehurst Country Club Resort. Info: (910) 215-5538.

October 7

MEET THE AUTHOR. 2 p.m. David S. Cecelski discusses his book, The Fire of Freedom: Abraham Galloway, The Slaves’ Civil War. The Country Bookshop, 140 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-3211 or www.thecountrybookshop.biz.

BLESSING OF THE HEALING DOGS. 2 p.m. Celebrate the work of the therapy dogs in our community. As a remembrance of St. Francis of Assisi’s love for all creatures, therapy dogs and their owners are invited to participate in a special tribute in their honor. Public welcome. The Healing Garden, 20 First Village Drive, behind the Clara McLean House of First Health, Pinehurst. RSVP: Cassie Willis, (910) 693-1221.

SENSES HIKE. 3 p.m. Discover what nature has to offer through all five senses during a walk along some of the trails in Weymouth Woods. Hike is approximately 1 - 1.5 miles. Free and open to the public. Weymouth Woods, 1024 Fort Bragg Road, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-2167 or www.ncparks.gov.

• MINDS, MYTHS & MIRACLES. 7 p.m. Linden • • • • • TRI-CITY AUTOMOTIVE Film

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cA L e n DA r

INTERFAITH WORSHIP. 4 p.m. The National Alliance on Mental Illness of Moore County presents the highly acclaimed author, Pete Earley. Free and open to the community. Sandhills Alliance Chapel, 425 Magnolia Drive, Pinehurst. Info: nami-moorecounty.com.

ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. Live music from Chatham County Line and Jeanne Jolly. The Poplar Knight Spot, 114 Knight St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-7502 or www.theroosterswife.org.

October 8

SANDHILLS PHOTO CLUB MEETING. 7 p.m. Guests welcome. Hannah Center Theater at the O’Neal School, 3300 Airport Road, Southern Pines. Info: www. sandhillsphotoclub.org.

October 9

MEET THE AUTHOR. 5 – 7 p.m. Jan Brett comes to the Sunrise Theater to discuss her book Mossy. A ticketed event, free with the pre-purchase of Mossy from The Country Bookshop. Sunrise Theater, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-3211 or www.thecountrybookshop.biz.

PIZZA WITH PIZZAZ. 5 – 6 p.m. Kids from grades 6-8 are invited to get ready for Halloween with all kinds of fruits and veggies. Come and create scary and unusual art and stay for free pizza. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

October 9—10

NORTH CAROLINA LAWN BOWLING INVITATIONAL. 9 a.m. – 4 p.m. Florida, Virginia and Asheville lawn bowling clubs are competing in singles and triples on the 9th and pairs on the 10th at the middle green of the Pinehurst Country Club resort. Free and open to the public. Reservations: (910) 215-5538.

October 10

PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. Preschoolers ages birth-5 and their parents or caregivers are invited to storytime at the library. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

ONE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF A SOUTHERN LAND TITLE AGENCY. 4 – 6 p.m. Will be serving door prizes and hors d’oeuvres. 200 McCaskill Road E, Ste. B, Pinehurst. (910) 420-2300.

COOKING DEMO. 6 p.m. “Oktoberfest swine and suds.” Cost: $39+; $10/12 and under. Elliott’s Provision Company, Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775.

October 11

OLDIES & GOODIES FILM. 2:30 – 4:30 p.m. The film series presents a 1942 classic that takes place in unoccupied Africa during World War II. Tea will be served. Southern Pines Public Library. Info: (910) 6928235 or www.sppl.net.

GATHERING AT GIVEN. 3:30 p.m. Karen Cook will be speaking about “The Essence of Dreams.” Free and open to the public. Given Memorial Library, 150 Cherokee Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-6022 or givenmemoriallibrary.org.

••• • •

Key: Art Music/Concerts Film Literature/Speakers Sports

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• • •

Dance/Theater Fun History

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 October 2012

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HOPS & BURGERS. 6:30 p.m. A menu featuring three IPAs paired with a burger. Cost: $25. The Sly Fox Pub, 795 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1621.

October 12

WOMEN VOTERS MEETING. 11:45 a.m. Lisa Donnelly Mudd, president of the Junior League of Moore County, will speak on “Creating Healthy Self Esteem in Young Girls.” Open to the public; reservations required. Table on the Green, 2205 Midland Drive, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 944-9611.

JUMP INTO FITNESS & FUN. 4 p.m. Celebrate a more healthy lifestyle by learning snack recipes, walking the 2.1 mile trail, playing Frisbee disc golf, or fishing. Free. Reservoir Park, Southern Pines. Info: www.southernpines.net/recreation.

October 13

SHAW HOUSE FAIR. 10 a.m. – 4 p.m. Vintage collectibles and antiques fair offers tours of the houses on the site, demonstrations of how people lived in the 1700s, live music as well as refreshments. Proceeds from silent auction and vendors benefit the Moore County Historical Association. Shaw House, 110 Morganton Road, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 693-1019 or www.moorehistory.com.

COOKING DEMO. 12 & 2 p.m. “Seasonal Greens.” Learn to prepare them raw or cooked. Elliott’s Provision Company, Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775.

SUNRISE OPERA EVENT. 12:55 p.m. Donizett’s L’elisir D’Amore. Tickets: $25. Sunrise Theater, 250 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: 910-692-8501 or www.sunrisetheater.com.

• FREE BEER TASTING. 12 – 4 p.m. Pumpkin beers from America. Elliott’s Provision • Company, Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775.

MEET THE ARTIST AT WORK. 12 – 3 p.m. Caroline Love. Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 255-0665 or www.janecasnellie.com.

• ••• •

Key: Art Music/Concerts Fun History Sports

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• • Film

Literature/Speakers

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c al e n da r

October 14

October 14—20

October 18

LITERARY HALL OF FAME INDUCTION. 2 p.m. Maya Angelou, Kathryn Stripling Byer and John Lawson will be inducted into the NC Literary Hall of Fame. Weymouth Center, 555 E. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-6261 or www. weymouthcenter.org.

TEEN READ WEEK. This year’s theme is “It Came From the Library.” Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 6928235 or www.sppl.net.

FAMILY FUN NIGHT. 5:30 p.m. Kids in grades K-5 and their families are invited to come listen to stories about cows. Crafts and a free dinner to follow. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

selections from E.T., Star Trek and many more. Bring a lawn chair or blanket for outdoor seating. Refreshments available for purchase. Cost: $10/members, $15/nonmembers, under 5/free. Cape Fear Botanical Garden, Fayetteville. Info: (910) 486-0221.

$125/ player fee. National Golf Club, Pinehurst. Info: John Roberts, (910) 315-1150.

October 15

• A CONCERT IN THE GARDEN. 2 p.m. A full symphony will transport you out of this world, with •

A CONCERT IN THE GARDEN. 2 p.m. As part of the ongoing lecture series “Explorations: A Forum for Adults,” the library will be featuring Change Comes Knocking: The Story of the NC Fund. Refreshments provided. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

OLD GROWTH HIKE. 3 p.m. Meet the oldest known longleaf pine in the world! Learn about longleaf pine and this amazing remnant of old growth forest. Meet at the park visitor center and then carpool to the Boyd Tract. Free and open to the public. Weymouth Woods, 1024 Fort Bragg Road, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-2167 or www.ncparks.gov.

• Key:

• • Art

Music/Concerts

Dance/Theater

• MEET THE AUTHOR. 6 p.m. John Perry will disMANNA! GOLF TOURNAMENT. To benefit the cuss his book, The Art of Procrastination. The Country • Moore Alliance Nourishing Neighbors, Amen! Cost: Bookshop, 140 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: October 16

TEEN ADVISORY BOARD KICKOFF. 5:30 p.m. High school students who are looking to participate in volunteer hours and fun. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

October 19

MOVIE IN THE PINES. 7 p.m. Watch The Hunger Games at the Downtown Park. Bring a blanket or a chair to enjoy the free movie. Concessions for sale on site. In case of inclement weather, the movie will be moved to a different date. Downtown Park, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-7376.

ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 8 p.m. Live music from Mollie O’Brien and Rich Moore. The Poplar Knight Spot, 114 Knight St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 9447502 or www.theroosterswife.org.

October 17

5TH ANNUAL GIGANTIC TAG SALE. 8 a.m. – 4 p.m., Friday; 8 a.m. – 1 p.m. Saturday. Support the local youth missions. Community Presbyterian Church, 125 Everette Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-6848.

PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. Preschoolers ages birth-5 and their parents or caregivers are invited to storytime at the library. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

• • Film

(910) 692-3211 or www.thecountrybookshop.biz.

MEET THE PUBLISHER. 6 p.m. Representative Sherry Virtz, of Random House publishing, will present some new must-have titles for the fall. The Country Bookshop, 140 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-3211 or www. thecountrybookshop.biz

ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. Live music from Beth Wood and Adam Ezra. The Poplar Knight Spot, 114 Knight St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 9447502 or www.theroosterswife.org.

Literature/Speakers

• • Fun

History

Sports

October 19—20

October 20

• BIRD WALK. 8 a.m. Fall migration is under way.


c al e n da r Birds that have spent the summer here are making the flight south to spend the winter in the tropics. Learn to ID birds by sight and sound. Free and open to the public. Weymouth Woods, 1024 Fort Bragg Road, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-2167 or www.ncparks.gov.

MILES FOR MIRA. 9 a.m. A walk or run around the Southern Pines Reservoir, to raise money to support MIRA in their mission to offer blind children the opportunity to receive guide dogs free of charge. Register at Sandhills Community College, or www.active.com. Cost: $25. Reservoir Park, Hwy 22, Southern Pines. Info: www.mirausa.org.

ART SHOW. 10 a.m. – 6 p.m. The Sanford Brush and Palette Club will host its 48th annual show, representing works from over 100 artists in the group. Show runs through October 27th. Hales Center, 147 McIver Street, Sanford. Info: (919) 498-2731.

MEET THE ARTIST AT WORK. 12 – 3 p.m. Jane Casnellie. Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden Rd., Pinehurst. Info: (910) 255-0665 or www.janecasnellie.com.

COOKING DEMO. 12 & 2 p.m. “Pumpkins & gourds.” Transform these fall staples into easy, savory dishes. Elliott’s Provision Company, Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775.

FREE WINE TASTING. 12 – 4 p.m. American pinot noir. Elliott’s Provision Company, Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775.

October 21

HORSE FARM TOUR. 11 a.m. – 4 p.m. Selfguided tour to six of the lovely horse farms for which the Sandhills are famous. See demonstrations of horse events at this annual fundraising event for the Prancing Horse Therapeutic Riding Center. Tickets: $20; $25/at the door. Info: (910) 246-3202 or www. prancinghorsecenter.com.

WEYMOUTH WOODS EVENT. 3 p.m. “Owlology.” October is a great month to listen for owls in the Sandhills when you know what they sound like. Meet in the Auditorium. Free and open to the public. Weymouth Woods, 1024 Fort Bragg Road, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-2167 or www.ncparks.gov.

ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. Live music from Tom Maxwell and Walter Strauss. The Poplar Knight Spot, 114 Knight St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-7502 or www.theroosterswife.org.

October 23

LADIES NIGHT AT RUE 32. Three courses paired with three wines. Live music. Cost: $35. Rue 32, 290 W. Pennsylvania Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1910.

October 25

HOPHEAD BEER DINNER. 6:30 p.m. Four course beer dinner featuring double IPAs. Cost: $39. The Sly Fox Pub, 795 SW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1621.

October 25 & 26

COUNTRY CONCERT. Kellie Pickler and Bucky Covington. Past American Idol performers from the area come back to town. Tickets: $25-$50. Cole Auditorium, Hamlet. Info: (910) 410-1691 or www.kelliepickler.com.

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Key: Art Music/Concerts Dance/Theater Film Literature/Speakers Fun History Sports October 2012 i��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


c al e n da r

October 27

PUMPKIN PAINTING & CARVING. 11 a.m. – 3 p.m. Reservations required. Elliott’s Provision Company, Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775.

MEET THE ARTIST AT WORK. 12 – 3 p.m. Morgen Kilbourn. Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden Rd., Pinehurst. Info: (910) 255-0665 or www. janecasnellie.com.

COOKING DEMO. 12 & 2 p.m. “Ghoulish treats.” Elliott’s Provision Company, Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775.

SUNRISE OPERA EVENT. 12:55 p.m. Verdi’s Otello. Tickets: $25. Sunrise Theater, 250 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8501 or www. sunrisetheater.com.

FREE WINE TASTING. 12 – 4 p.m. Chardonnay: California & French white burgundy. Elliott’s Provision Company, Elliott’s on Linden, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 215-0775.

SPOOKTACULAR HALLOWEEN GALA. 7 – 10 p.m. Dinner, dancing, auction, and costume contests to benefit the Spay Neuter Veterinary Clinic. Tickets: $45; $50/at the door. Pinehurst Fair Barn. Info/tickets: www. companionanimalclinic.org or (855) 439-3498.

October 28

HORSE COUNTRY SUNDAY SOCIAL. 12 – 3 p.m. Walthour-Moss Foundation invites you to lunch catered by White Rabbit with music by the Java Mules. Tickets: $35/adults; $15/children. The Hunter Trial Field, Old Mail Road, Southern Pines. Info: Landon Russell, (910) 695-7811.

WEYMOUTH WOODS EVENT. 3 p.m. “Naturally scary stuff.” Folklore about plants and animals find their way into our imagination. Join the park ranger for an interesting program, followed by a short hike. Free and open to the public. Weymouth Woods, 1024 Fort Bragg Road, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 6922167 or www.ncparks.gov.

ROOSTER’S WIFE CONCERT. 6:46 p.m. Live music from Chris Smither. The Poplar Knight Spot, 114 Knight St., Aberdeen. Info: (910) 944-7502 or www. theroosterswife.org.

October 30

HALLOWEEN AT THE PARK. 5 – 7 p.m. Spook, rattle, and haunt with the scariest of all. Cute pumpkins and snarling witches are invited for a hauntingly good time of fortune telling, crafting, Skeetball, Ghostbuster Bowling, Halloween Bingo, and the Monster Mash. For those 12 years and under. Downtown Park, Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-7376.

NEW REGION COMPETITION AT RUE 32. Cost: $35. Rue 32, 290 W. Pennsylvania Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 725-1910.

October 31

PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 3:30 – 4 p.m. Preschoolers ages birth-5 and their parents or caregivers are invited to storytime at the library. Southern Pines Public Library, 170 W. Connecticut Ave., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8235 or www.sppl.net.

••• • •

• • •

Key: Art Music/Concerts Dance/Theater Film Literature/Speakers Fun History Sports PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . October 2012

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c al e n da r

Weekly Happenings Tuesdays

FREE YOGA FOR PTSD VETS. 6 p.m. Yoga for retired veterans who suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder. Yoga Massage in the Sandhills, 5374 NiagaraCarthage Road, Southern Pines. Info: Mary Ann at (910) 949-2162.

Wednesdays

CHILDREN’S STORYTIME. 1:30 p.m. Given Memorial Library, 150 Cherokee Road, Pinehurst. Info: (910) 295-6022.

CLASSIC MOVIE WEDNESDAY. 7:30 – 8:30 p.m. Sunrise Theater, 250 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-8501 or www.sunrisetheater.com.

Thursdays

STORY/ACTIVITY TIME. 10:30 a.m. Stories and activities at The Country Bookshop, 140 NW Broad St., Southern Pines. Info: (910) 692-3211.

PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 10 a.m. Robbins Area Library, 161 Magnolia Drive. Info: (910) 948-4000.

CIRCUIT WORKOUT. 11:15 a.m. – 12 p.m. Workout for all levels, no pre-registration required. Cost: $10/cash or check. The Fitness Studio Inc., 1150 Old US 1, Southern Pines. Info: www.thefitnessstudioinc.com. Jewelry Showroom, Custom Jewelry Design, Watch & Jewelry Repair, Estate & Insurance Appraisals

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Fridays

PRESCHOOL STORYTIME. 10:30 a.m. Stories with crafts, and activities to follow. Moore County Library, 101 Saunders St., Carthage. Info: (910) 947-5335.

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

••• • •

• • •

Key: Art Music/Concerts Dance/Theater Film Literature/Speakers Fun History Sports PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . October 2012 107


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Discover your own reasons! Call 1-877-407-2536 to schedule a visit. Boarding Student Visitation Programs: Oct. 18-19; Nov. 8-9 Day Student Visitation Programs: Oct. 19; Nov. 12 Sisters Merit Scholarship for Boarding Students: Application deadline: January 2013 Visit salemacademy.com for online materials

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108

17 Regional Drive Pinehurst, North Carolina 28374 www.brookdaleliving.com

c al e n da r The Downtown Gallery inside Flynne’s Coffee Bar, 115 NE Broad St., Southern Pines. Ever-changing array of local and regional art, pottery and other handmade items. (910) 693-1999. The Gallery at Seven Lakes at the St. Mary Magdalene building, 1145 Seven Lakes Drive. Just nine miles from the Pinehurst Traffic Circle up 211, this gallery is dedicated to local artists. Wednesday-Thursday 1 ­— 4 p.m. Hastings Gallery in the Katharine L. Boyd Library at Sandhills Community College, Pinehurst. Gallery hours are Monday-Thursday 7:45 a.m. - 9 p.m., Friday 7:45 a.m. - 5 p.m. and Saturday 8:30 a.m. - 2 p.m. Hollyhocks Art Gallery, 905 Linden Road, Pinehurst. Features artwork by local artists Diane Kraudelt, Carol Rotter, Morgen Kilbourn, Deane Billings, Jane Casnellie and artist/owner Caroline Love. Monday-Saturday 10:30 a.m. - 9:30 p.m. Meet the artists on Saturdays, 12 p.m. - 3 p.m. (910) 255-0665, www. hollyhocksartgallery.com. Lady Bedford’s Tea Parlour, 25 Chinquapin Rd., Pinehurst. Features local artist Nancy Campbell’s original oil and watercolor paintings. Tuesday - Saturday 8 a.m. - 5 p.m. (910) 255-0100, www.ladybedfords.com. The Old Silk Route, 113 West Main St., Aberdeen. Specializes in Asian original art, including silk paintings, tapestries, Buddhist Thangkas and Indian paper miniatures. Monday, Thursday-Saturday 11 a.m. 4 p.m. (910) 295-2055. Seagrove Candle Company, 116 N.W. Broad St., Southern Pines. Showcases art of the Sandhills and Seagrove area. Monday, Wednesday-Saturday 10 a.m. - 5 p.m., (910) 695-0029. SKY Art Gallery, 602 Magnolia Drive, Aberdeen. Tuesday-Saturday 10 a.m. - 5 p.m. (910) 944-9440, www. skyartgallery.com. Studio 590 by the pond in Dowd Cabin, 590 Dowd Circle, Pinehurst. This historic log cabin is the working studio and gallery of artists Betty DiBartolomeo and Harry Neely. Fine oil paintings, commissions and instruction. (910) 639-9404. White Hill Gallery, 407 U.S. 15-501, Carthage, offers a variety of pottery. (910) 947-6100.

Nature Centers Sandhills Horticultural Gardens (32 acres of gardens). The Sandhills Horticultural Gardens are handicapped-accessible. Daylight hours year-round. (910) 695-3882. Weymouth Woods Sandhills Nature Preserve (898 acres). 1024 Fort Bragg Road, Southern Pines. (910) 692-2167. VILLAGE ABORETUM. 35 acres of land adjoining the Village Hall on Magnolia Road, Pinehurst. (910) 295-1900.

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

••• • •

Key: Art Music/Concerts Film Literature/Speakers Sports

• • •

Dance/Theater Fun History

October 2012 i��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


c al e n da r 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. Friday & 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. Tufts Archives. 9:30 a.m. - 5 p.m., Monday-Friday, and 9:30 a.m. - 12:30 p.m. Saturday. (910) 295-3642. Union Station. Open 8 a.m. - 5 p.m. Located in downtown Aberdeen. (910) 944-5902. Sandhills Woman’s Exchange Log Cabin Open 10 a.m. - 3 p.m. (910) 295-4677 To add an event, email us at calendar@pinestrawmag.com by the first of the month prior to the event.

PineNeedler Answers From page 127

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

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Cassie Angeline Butler Images affordable creativity for unforgettable memories

www.cassieangeline.com • 910.724.4821

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October 2012 i��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


SandhillSeen Paul Murphy Family Jazz Concert at Weymouth Friday, September 14, 2012 Photographs by Cassie Butler

John & Janee Cates

Lynn & Robert Anderson

Barbara & Fred Nuenighoff, Mary Lou & Art Boniface

Clay & Teresa Sessoms

Pat Williams-Dawes, Denise Baker, Marsha Warren, Martha Heinz, Lois Holt, Deirdre Newton

Beulah & Bob Warren

Jadah Cole, Martha Butler, Christal Cole

Jessie Spell, Mamie Martin Amelia Smith, Lin Ong

Don & Betty Vinson

Duane, Sharon, JoAnn & Dale Erickson

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

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112

GOOD THROUGH OCTOBER 31, 2012

BIRD FEEDERS, BIRD SEED & YARD DECOR

October 2012 i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


SandhillSeen

Carolina Polocrosse Tournament at the Pinehurst Harness Track Sunday, September 16, 2012 Photographs by Jeanne Paine

Melanie Watson, David Brooks

Marlee Bigsby, Callie Williams

Sarah Thomas, Sarah Ferebee, Jordan Almony

Jacqueline & Marley Paton, Haley Blend, Jamie Lee

Judy Santman, Jeff & Lorri Myers, Lee Santman Beth & Chuck Younger

Henry Watson

Jen Umland, Elle Dembosky, Crawford Liner

Roy Cook

Carolina Polocrosse / Charlie Creek

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

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2nd Annual

Pretty in Pink

Luncheon & Fashion Show

October 27th

Call for Reservations! Limited Seating

Fall-ow your heart...

Marie& Marcele b o u tiqu e NEW LOCATION!

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Windridge

Gardens

1650 Valley View Road • Southern Pines, NC Adjacent to Hyland Golf Course on US 1

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Wednesday - Saturday: 10am-6pm; Sunday: 1pm-6pm

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October 2012 i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


SandhillSeen

Moore County Kennel Club of NC at the Harness Track Sunday, September 16, 2012 Photographs by Jeanne Paine

Lisa Schrank, Beth Dowd

Barbara Ross, Jackie Meyer

Front: Sgt. Ronald Cochran; Back: Sgt. Kevin Lytle, Sgt. Jeffrey Smith, SPC Joshua Stiles, SPC Jeremy Gidding

Afghan Hound

Alyssa Honeycutt, Emma Johnson

Yvonne Sovereign

Kim Noel

Glenn Richmond

Borzoi

Lisa Cameron

Gary Alu

Tamra Dunn, Stephanie Parker

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

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October 2012 i��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


SandhillSeen

Walking the Moore County Hounds from The Kennels August 14 & September 14, 2012 Photographs by Jeanne Paine

David Raley, Maddie Wade

Maddie & Carolyn Wade

David Raley, Cindy Pagnotta

Front: David Raley; Back: Casey Thomasson, Maddie Wade, Angie Tally, Shellie Sommerson

Maddie Wade, Carolyn Wade, David Raley, Shellie Sommerson

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

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Good things are always found at home.

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October 2012 i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


SandhillSeen

Moore County Chamber Culinary Showcase at the Carolina Hotel Sunday, September 2, 2012 Photographs by Al & Annette Daniels

Patrick & Melanie Coughlin, Sheila Klein

Bob Papp, Bo Bozarth

Shelly Petrowski, Crystal Brown

Lovella Wilcox, JoElla Hardee, Dawn Wilson, Caroline Hendricks

St Joseph of the Pines (People’s Choice) Front: David Raff, Gloria Exiga, Josel Pingol, Anita Holt; Back: Patrick Coughlin, Jack Hill, Chabosca White, Scott Margolis

Leah Paskin, Danny Sanford

Crystal & Mark Brenner

Linda Parsons, Deborah Davis

Carol & Richard Gluck

Alek & Pamela Null

Maritza Webb, Tom Beddow

LeRoy & Valerie Dock, Felicia & Ron Buns

Cynthia Womack, Brittany Trail

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

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October 2012 i��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


SandhillSeen

Third Annual Carolina Philharmonic Gala at the Fair Barn Saturday, September 8, 2012 Photographs by Al & Annette Daniels

Mary Lou Queeney, Jim Schrum

Kathee & Jess Dishner, Marcel & Candice Goneau

James Rudisill, Mark Savage, Deanne Renshaw, Dana Redfern

Fred Hoffecker, Liz Polston

Jane Squires, Joyce Lipe, Marcia Snow

Sandy Hoffman, Judith Krall

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

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D

i n i n g

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farmersmarket_OCT2012:Layout 1

9/19/12

MOORE COUNTY

LIVE JAZZ MUSIC October 12th & 26th Starting at 6 PM

FARMERS MARKET Food Demonstration by

Rhett Morris of Rhett’s Restaurant Saturday, October 13th: 9:30am – 11:30am Fiona McKenzie of SCC & Sweet Fi’s Cakes Saturday, October 27th: 9:30am – 11:30am Apples, Sweet Potatoes, Pumpkins, Mums, Pansies, Cucumbers, Squash, Greens,Veggies, Tomatoes, Baked Goods, Jams, Meats, Flowers & Plants

Mondays - FirstHealth

(Fitness Center) Facility courtesy of First Health 170 Memorial Drive • Pinehurst 2pm-5:30pm

Thursdays - Morganton Rd (Armory Sports Complex) Facility courtesy of Town of Southern Pines Southern Pines 9am-1pm

Saturdays - Downtown Southern Pines Facility courtesy of Town of Southern Pines Broad St & New York Ave 8am-Noon

Call 947-3752 or 690-9520 for more info facebook.com/ moorecountyfarmersmarket Websearch: Moore County Farmers Market Local Harvest

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October 2012 i��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

4:28 PM


SandhillSeen Taylortown Day Celebration at the Elks Club Friday, August 31, 2012 Photographs by Al & Annette Daniels

Reverend Rose Highland-Sharpe

Marlene Pittman, Carolyn Jamison

Kenneth Stewart, Mayor Pro Tem James Thompson

Akeila & Becky Moses

Corrina Rebekah McNair

Edithann Jackson, Arieyanna Chalmers, Zoria Mack

Mr. and Mrs. James McCrimmon

Arizona & Sandra Vamper

Betty Hill, Otha Gillis

Mabele Cotton, Susie Alford

Sharon & Charles Nabors

Maxine & Zoria Mack

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

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KITCHENS BATHS CUSTOM CLOSETS

195 – F Pinehurst Avenue Southern Pines, NC 28387

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Countertops Granite • Quartz Marble

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

Must Be One Helluva Bad Word

By Geoff Cutler

The first time I ever heard a swear word,

I was helping my dad do some cleaning in the garage. He was pulling some old and dusty tarpaulins down from the top shelf of a large cupboard. There on top of the tarps, someone (probably him) had placed a tenpound barbell weight. As the tarps came free, so too did the weight, which landed squarely on his big toe.

I recoiled in horror at what I had just seen, and my dad’s face went the color of a freshly sliced beet. Tears poured from his eyes, and his fists clenched tight at his sides, his knuckles now a ghostly white. He gulped in air over and over again as if choking on a chicken bone, but no sound would come from him. And I waited as if an eternity for him to say something, and then, finally, it came. A bloodcurdling scream of the word that sounds like “duck.” I watched him hobble off toward the house, and only much later did I dare go to see if he was OK. The weight had hit his big toe squarely on the nail, which had already come off by the time I found him. He sat in a chair with his foot up on a stool, and the toe, when he pulled the ice bag off to show me, was swollen black and red and blue. I caught sight of the meat where his toenail once resided, and thought I would throw up. Later, I asked my mother what the word that sounded like “duck” meant. She asked where I’d heard that. “Well, when that thing-a-ma-jig fell on Dad’s toe, he didn’t say anything for the longest time. Like he was thinking about what to say or something, and then he only yelled one thing, and that was it.” She said my dad was in so much pain he’d lost his wind, and that’s why it took him so long to say something. But that word, she said, was one I should never say, and if she ever heard me saying it, I’d get a good spanking. “Why?” I asked. “Because certain words are bad words and we just don’t say them. That’s why.” “Well, why?” I pushed. They always said I was argumentative. “Talked back” is what they called it. I was always talking back. I thought I was

mostly just being curious, like that curious monkey, George. “Because I said so. That’s why. Now go on outside and play and I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” There was a time when that’s about all parents had to say to a child. Because I said so. And somehow, generation after generation of kids grew up just fine. Well adjusted, good jobs, self sufficient, polite. . . Wait a minute. . . this is probably stew for another column. Anyway, time passed and my dad started growing a new toenail, and I didn’t give the “duck” word much more thought. My mom said not to use it. So I didn’t. Then one day, our gang was all hanging out at the swing set. We had a monster swing set. The biggest one ever. Bigger than all my friends had, and even bigger than the ones at the park. We liked to swing standing up, and sometimes we’d go so high in the air you thought you might go right up over the top of the thing. This day, there was a neighborhood kid with us we didn’t like to hang out with all that much. He was kind of an odd and mean sort of bully. He had these GI Joe figures, but he didn’t like to play war with them or let the GI Joes be the good guys like we did. Nope. He’d set M80 firecrackers under them and when the firecrackers exploded, our favorite action figures would go flying up in air and come crashing down all torn apart and burned black with gunpowder. Well, this kid was swinging standing up, and he said he could go way higher than any of us punks could, and that he could even jump off the swings backward if he wanted to. We said that sounded kind of stupid, but if he wanted to jump off those swings backward, then he could go right ahead. So he started really pulling on those swing chains, and bending his knees to get real high up in the air. And just when he got to the top of his backward arc, he let go and jumped. And came down to earth hard, with his arms behind him. We heard the crack of those arms over the thud of his body hitting the ground. He rolled over onto his stomach and was able to get to his feet, his arms now dangling from their shoulder sockets at impossible angles. Well, he started screaming the “duck” word, and a whole lot of other new and nasty sounding words the rest of us had never heard either. And he screamed and screamed and was walking around all dazed in a circle, and he just kept right on screaming. That’s when our Canadian house-keeper, who heard all those bad words being hurled about the backyard, came whipping out of the house at a hellacious clip. Her red-checkered apron was flying in the wind, and she rushed right up to the kid with the arms all pitched off in this direction and that and started slapping his face silly. We stood there watching this spectacle in awe, and I remember thinking: “Duck!” If you can bust your arms into pretzels and still get your face rearranged for using all those bad words, I’m sure not going to be using any of them out loud. Not ever! PS Geoff Cutler is owner of Cutler Tree LLC in Southern Pines. He is a regular contributor to PineStraw. He can be reached at geoffcutler@embarqmail.com.

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

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October PineNeedler

By Mart Dickerson

Eek!

43 44 45 46 48 49 51 54 56 57 58 60 64 66 68 69 70 71 72 73 74

ACROSS 1 Affixed 6 Humble! 10 Fellow 14 National bird 15 Pivot 16 Welt 17 Acclaim 18 Farside’s Larson 19 Orchestra horn 20 Computer finger part 22 Firm up muscles 24 Writing liquid 25 Military attack 27 Speak in public 29 Liquor strength 32 Children’s game 33 Street abbr. 34 Red fruit 37 Tides 41 Scallion!

1 3 1 9 6

2 4 3 9 8

5 6 5 6 4 7 4

1 9 7

7

1 8

4

Chinese sauce Look for! Writer Bombeck Expiring ___Chi Regret Mary ____ Rain heavily Slideway Tiny At hand, close Surgical knife Dutch cheese Movie __ Jeweled headdress Relieve, soothe Do what you’re told Type of Greek column Had known Dam Brook!

DOWN 1 Nerd! 2 Do up shoes 3 Opp. of pretty 4 Pass, as time 5 Cause to be late 6 Chinese seasoning, abbr. 7 Thrill 8 European monetary unit 9 Political speech type 10 Cash with order, abbr. 11 Nun’s dress 12 By one’s self 13 Sneak a look! 21 Prefix ten 23 Time period 26 ____Rose Lee 28 Gets older 29 Ashen 30 Above 31 Swarm 35 Luau dish 36 Type of mob 38 Second letter of the Greek alphabet 39 Defeat 40 Short play 42 Corn syrup brand 46 Half human, half god 47 France and Belgium, anciently 50 Burial container 52 Type of electricity 53 Junior’s namesake 54 Type of car 55 Jeer 56 Face part! 57 Seven days! 59 Mongolian desert 61 Sugar plant 62 Canal 63 Horse gear 65 Kitten’s cry 67 Seed bread

Sudoku:

Fill in the grid so every row, every column and every 3x3 box contain the numbers 1-9. Puzzle answers on page 109

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

6

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

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so u t h wo r d s

Friday Night Lights

Did life get better than a Swanson TV dinner and an accidental trombone? By Tom Allen

Not long ago, while pushing a grocery cart

along the frozen food aisle at Harris Teeter, I spotted a vestige from my teenage years — a Hungry Man TV dinner, specifically, Salisbury steak. I opened the freezer door, tossed one in the cart, and for a few moments was taken back to high school days and Friday night home football games.

Mom, now 86, was never a fan of processed or frozen food. The TV dinner was one of her least favorites. But Swanson’s commercials were so enticing, she eventually caved in to the requests and humored me with an occasional Salisbury steak TV dinner, complete with mashed potatoes and corn, on Friday nights when those pigskin rivalries were at home. I was in the marching band. Home games meant a pre-game run-through of the national anthem and our brief half-time show, thus an early supper. Mom would pop a Hungry Man TV dinner in the oven, and true to its name, I’d wolf it down while watching an Andy Griffith rerun. Then it was out the door for the six-mile drive to my high school and our hometown version of “Friday Night Lights.” Lillington High School started a marching band my freshman year. I was a charter member. The clarinet was my instrument of choice, until I dropped it on the football field during practice the summer before my junior year. It took months to have it repaired, so our band director handed me a friend’s trombone. “Play this,” he said. Mark, the trombone player, broke his arm trying out for football and ended up not playing either. For most of my junior year, I played an accidental trombone. I loved those hometown Friday night games as well as my beloved TV dinner. I loved playing in the band and cheering the team to victory, even when wins were few. Most of all, I loved seeing my parents, my teachers, older folks who knew me, like Sunday School teachers and neighbors, on their feet, clapping to the rhythm of our school fight song as we wrapped up our halftime show and marched toward the home stands. Years later, I still love the thrill of a Friday night hometown game, the smell of a freshly cut playing field, and the sound of a high school marching band. In Bowling Alone, a fascinating study of contemporary culture, published more than a decade ago, Robert Putnam, a political scientist and professor of public policy at Harvard, mourns the loss of what he terms “social capital,” the connective fabric that holds us together as friends, neighbors and communities. Putnam’s exhaustive research shows how changes in work, family

structure and technology over the last quarter-century have brought about a marked decline in our engagement with others. Americans, he found, belong to fewer civic organizations, are less involved in community activities, and socialize less often with friends and families. And while more people are bowling than ever before, Putnam found they’re not bowling in leagues, hence the book’s title. This disturbing trend, he writes, has impoverished our lives and left many folks longing for a sense of community and connection. But the good professor doesn’t stop at statistics and the decline they reveal. Putnam concludes the work by offering ways in which we can reconnect with our communities and each other. How? He makes these suggestions: Join the Elks, Kiwanis, or Knights of Columbus. Eat breakfast at a local gathering spot on Saturdays. Host a neighborhood barbecue. Volunteer in your child’s classroom or chaperone a field trip Sing in a choir. I would add another — sometime this fall, head out to a high school football game. It’ll cost you around six bucks to get in, most going back to the school’s athletic program. Even if it’s been a while, you’ll find some things haven’t changed — a hometown touchdown is still a thrill, the cheerleaders are still cute, and the marching band’s halftime show is still a mix of old and new tunes. Most teenagers arrive toward the end of the first quarter. Making an appearance before the kickoff still isn’t cool. Some students watch the game, but lots of kids wander and chat, still congregate with their friends, and still look for a group to hang out with after the game. The roar of the crowd gets their attention if there’s an interception, a field goal or a touchdown. Some things have changed. My teenage years lacked cellphones and social media. Kids now text their friends to find out where and with whom they’re sitting. Cell phones are rarely left at home or in the car — you might miss a tweet from a buddy, a text from your BFF, or your girlfriend’s latest status on Facebook. Concessions offer more variety. Pizza, Chick-fil-A sandwiches and ice cream are often available. There’s a wider assortment of candy to satisfy your sweet tooth and more beverage options to wash it down. For the traditionalist, hot dogs and popcorn taste just as good as they did decades ago. So when an autumn nip chills the air, throw on a windbreaker, grab a blanket, and head out to a high school game. Invite a neighbor, wear school colors, and cheer like crazy for the home team. If you’re in a hurry, a Hungry Man TV dinner’s still an option, but probably not for Prof. Putnam. I’ll bet he’s a tailgater, a big time grill master, with more than enough burgers and dogs at his parking lot picnic, for newfound friends and neighbors. PS Tom Allen is minister of education at First Baptist Church, Southern Pines and a frequent contributor to PineStraw Magazine. Illustration by Pamela Powers January

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October 2012 i��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills


Satisfied

Another

Customer

We chose Mark to build our retirement home because of his reputation within the community and his knowledge of

“green”...

We were impressed with his integrity, the quality of his homes, and his outstanding communication skills.

- Wib & Kathy Doddridge

Madison Creek Farms • Southern Pines, NC

Our reputation is building...green!

910-673-1929

mark@stewartcdc.com

www.StewartConstructionDevelopment.com

October 2012 PineStraw  

The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

October 2012 PineStraw  

The Art & Soul of the Sandhills

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